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dandelion-wings · 9 days

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Things I should have done today: chores. Things I could have done today: worked on any of my actual WIPs. Things I did do today: write 5k of loosely-connected and wildly wandering snippets of the AU where Fredrica raises Kaeya to marry Jean, omegaverse version, because my 2024 mood is that I can do whatever I want, forever, and today I wanted to do this. I tried to pack in everything @theabysscomeshome and I have kicked around for their teenage years, and almost (if not quite) managed it!

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Today is a rare occasion: Mother is letting Jean go out shopping with Diluc, *alone*. It's the first time she's been allowed to spend time with him without Mother's supervision since Mother and Father divorced.

Okay, 'alone' isn't quite true. Mother insisted that she take Kaeya along. But she'd given Jean the purse, and told her she was responsible, and Kaeya is so quietly obedient that she can almost forget that he's there. And that the instructions Mother has given her about looking after him are identical to the instructions she used to give regarding Barbara.

Jean won't let him replace Barbara. It would be weird if he did, wouldn't it? He's going to be her mate someday, after all, and her husband, and so he can't also be her little brother--he's just someone under Mother's care, and anyone her Mother is responsible for, Jean is responsible for as well. Even if he's the alpha and she's the omega, Jean is a *Gunnhildr*, and he isn't yet. Won't ever be one the same way that Barbara is.

The same way that Barbara *was*.

Eager for a distraction from that thought, Jean slows in front of the bookstore, pausing to survey the display in the front window. The bright cover of a romance novel catches her eye: there's no question that the woman on the cover is supposed to be Vennessa, even though she's holding a style of sword that wasn't developed for another three hundred years and everyone knows that Vennessa preferred a claymore. She's holding that sword to the throat of a muscular, short-haired woman whose Lawrence insignia is half cut away, and while the pose is aggressive, the painter has put a look in both their eyes that makes it very clear who this romance is between.

"Are you going to buy that one?" Diluc asks beside her, startling Jean from her reverie.

"Of course not." Face hot, Jean tears her gaze away. Her mother would disapprove of her using the money she'd been given for any frivolous romance, but *especially* this one. No matter how compelling Jean finds it. The cover is so well-painted, that's all, Jean tells herself--it doesn't mean she would truly enjoy the subject material, not when a Lawrence is involved.

"There's a new book from Liyue about economics," she says, scanning the other titles on display. "That sounds educational. Mother would approve if we bought it."

She marches inside to do exactly that. Before she can get to the counter, she sees Barbara, browsing hymnals in the company of a nun.

"Big sister!"

Barbara flings herself into Jean's arms, and Jean instinctively hugs her close before remembering they may have an audience. Diluc won't tell, and the nun is smiling, but she still makes herself pull away. If Kaeya sees and tells Mother....

She can't make herself pull away immediately, though. "How are you? Are you making friends at the Church?"

"I am! I'm spending time with the orphans. None of them are as much fun to spend time with as you, though. I miss you a lot."

Jean feels a pang at Barbara's innocent words. Swallowing hard, she reminds herself that she should be mature about this. She can't encourage Barbara to continue to pine for her when they're always going to live apart. "I'm sure they could be, if you give them time to get used to you. If they're orphans, they're probably shy."

"But they're not *you*," Barbara says, tears welling in her eyes. "I really wish you were there. I don't know why you had to go away. And now you have a new brother-"

"He's not my brother," Jean says, fiercer than she'd meant, and hears a sharp little inhale behind her.

She looks over her shoulder to see Kaeya, whose expression flattens as soon as she looks, and Diluc, who goes wide-eyed and grabs Kaeya's hand to pull him away. Heat tingles in her cheeks. He's *not* her brother, though, she reminds herself again, defiantly, he's her betrothed, and that's a different thing. She didn't say anything wrong, or a lie.

"Oops," Barbara whispers, staring worriedly after them. "Is- is Mother going to be mad?"

"No," Jean says, though she knows all her perfectly correct arguments won't matter in the face of being told that Jean was talking to Barbara in the first place. Her stomach sinks at the realization that Kaeya has every reason to tell. Mother will approve of him if he tells, and disapprove of Jean, and if she hurt his feelings, even though that really shouldn't have....

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Jean reaches out and squeezes Barbara's hand, doing her best to give her a reassuring smile.

"Barbara, dear, I think I've picked out a hymnal," the nun says. "Why don't we leave Miss Jean to her own shopping and check out?"

"Okay," Barbara says, reluctantly.

Jean lets go of her hand just as reluctantly, with one last squeeze, and makes sure to nod politely at the nun. "Don't let me keep you."

The nun takes Barbara's hand and hurries away to the counter, while Jean goes and searches the stacks for the economics text she'd seen in the window. She finds a few simple books for Kaeya, too, ones meant for children, which means he can probably read them. Maybe Mother will be less mad if she can prove that she was looking out for him like she was told.

Diluc and Kaeya are over in the fiction section, heads bent together, whispering furiously. Jean doesn't know what they're talking about, or which book Diluc takes to the counter, cover tucked to his chest like he's hiding it, when she's done with her purchases. He has it wrapped in brown paper before he hands it to Kaeya, who squirrels it away in his jacket with a nervous look at her.

Jean pretends not to see, and doesn't tell Mother, either, when they get home. Either that makes him decide to hold his own tongue, or Diluc bought it as a bribe in the first place, because he doesn't say anything to her about Jean's encounter with Barbara in the shop. Jean is relieved and grateful enough for his silence not to ignore him when he tugs on her arm in the hall on the way to their rooms after dinner and evening drills.

"I'm not trying to be your brother," he says softly, looking down at the floor. "I promise. I know what I'm here for, and that is isn't that. And I know that family is important, even if you can't be with them anymore. I won't... if you want to see her, I can help."

Which is a ridiculous offer. His training schedule is even stricter than Jean's, and even if he had as much free time, he doesn't know anything about Mondstadt. But some of the resentment Jean has felt all day subsides at his words. She nods, and smiles at him, and Kaeya slowly, shyly, gives her a relieved smile back.

***

Once Jean is an apprentice knight, she has more money and significantly more freedom. Spending an afternoon out with Diluc isn't as much an occasion; the apprentice knights are encouraged to spend social time together, it's why they're given twice-weekly free afternoons, so Mother can't do more than make oblique comments about who she spends them with. And having Kaeya along hasn't been an annoyance for some time now.

It's sometimes a convenience, even, when Barbara also happens to be out and about. He's better than anyone at contriving the sort of brief meetings that even Mother couldn't object to, and better yet at finding places for them to talk without prying eyes and discreet methods to get them both there. Which even Barbara, by now, agrees is far better than his strategy of his first year in the Gunnhildr household, when he kept contriving to be injured just badly enough for Jean to have to take him to the Cathedral, but not badly enough for Mother to come along.

If he and Diluc tend to duck off on their own now and then on these trips, too, Jean doesn't have room to complain. It could be a good thing. Mother might not let Kaeya get away with possessive behavior, but all the romance novels she sneaks from the Ordo library make a point of just how strong alpha instinct becomes when other alphas get too close to their mate. If they're friends before Jean and Kaeya ever marry, then Kaeya won't have to wrestle with that instinct in the first place.

She hopes, anyway. She knows better than anyone else just how much Kaeya does wrestle with the instincts that puberty is stirring in him, and that Mother's strict standards aren't the only reason they make him upset. Not to mention just *how* much he enjoys spending time with Diluc on their outings, and why.

*'If you're something other than an alpha, the Church has ways to fix it,'* she'd whispered to him, the night she'd found him crying in the bath. *'Mother isn't so cruel she wouldn't let you, if you tell her what you really are.'*

*'First I'd have to know what I am,'* Kaeya had answered, his expression twisted up in ways she didn't understand. *'All I know is what I'm not, and they can't fix *that*. Besides, I don't plan to leave you in the lurch.'*

He'd looked desperate when he said that, despite his attempt at a smile. Jean could understand. Mother wouldn't stop him from seeking the Church's services, no, but if Kaeya wasn't what she wanted him to be anymore, the well-behaved alpha mate who wouldn't try to dominate the first Gunnhildr omega in uncounted generations.... He's not a Gunnhildr yet. She'd end her guardianship of him and send him to the Church to take a place amid their orphans, or if he was lucky, to live in the Ordo dorms as a rare fostered apprentice. He wouldn't be part of Jean's family anymore.

Jean is selfish enough not to argue with his determination. She doesn't want to lose him any more than he wants to leave. That means that if whatever he *is* under all the uncertainty is someone who can look at an alpha the way he sometimes, when he thinks neither of them are looking, looks at Diluc....

They aren't married yet. He isn't her mate yet. Jean doesn't mind looking the other way and pretending she doesn't see. She just wishes for his sake that Diluc was only pretending that he hasn't noticed.

Out of the corner of her eye she can see Kaeya giving Diluc just that look right now, while Diluc picks through the tailor's display of new Inazuman silks in innocent ignorance. Jean turns back to her own contemplations. There's a beautiful robe here, pale green patterned with purple cranes picked out in charming detail, that she can't resist reaching out to touch. The fabric is smooth under her fingers. She traces the line of a crane's neck, turns over the price tag, then sighs and pulls her hand away.

When she looks back again, Diluc and Kaeya are both watching her. She smiles at them, embarrassed, and puts her hands behind her back.

"Mother would disapprove, wouldn't she?"

"If she doesn't pay for it, she can't stop you," Kaeya points out. "Let her frown at you all she wants."

"It's out of my price range, anyway. I'm going to look at their hair ribbons. I could use a few new ones."

Diluc frowns, but Kaeya shrugs, turning back to the silks and commenting on one Diluc seems to have liked. Their voices fade behind as she moves across the store to the hair ribbons, and she doesn't see them again until she comes to the counter with her selections. They're just ahead of her, Diluc counting out mora as the clerk ties string around two tissue-wrapped bundles. Diluc hands the smaller one to Kaeya before smiling at her and stepping out of her way.

It's far from the first time Diluc has given Kaeya such gifts on these shopping trips. It's a generous gesture, but it's also an *alpha* gesture, a courtship gesture, the kind of kindness that has a weight from alpha to omega or alpha to beta that Diluc probably doesn't even imagine it has here. That it wouldn't, alpha to alpha, if Kaeya was the alpha that everyone thinks.

As soon as her ribbons are paid for, Jean follows them out of the shop, clears her throat, and asks, "Kaeya, can you go ahead to Good Hunter and put in our order? I'm getting hungry, but Diluc and I should stop at the cobblers and see how the new boots for the apprentices are coming along. The Grand Master will expect a report."

His eyebrow goes up, but all he says is, "Of course," before taking himself off.

"Since when is it our job to check on the boots?" Diluc asks her, baffled, though he's heading down the street towards the cobbler's even as he asks. "No one said anything to me."

"It isn't, but Mother will appreciate that we took the initiative. Besides," Jean adds, her voice dropping as they pass a fruit cart, "I wanted to talk to you alone. I think... maybe you shouldn't buy things for Kaeya anymore. I think it might be giving him ideas about- about what you want from him."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Jean doesn't want to confess Kaeya's crush for him, but she forges on with as good an excuse as she can muster. "Kaeya... doesn't like being in debt to people. And- and at your age- for alphas- some of the things people say to him about, um, about us, that he's mentioned or I've heard about- he might think he needs to pay you back a... certain way."

Diluc only looks more confused. "He doesn't have to pay me back at all. It's my allowance, and I like buying things for the two of you with it. He knows that. What way do you mean, anyway?"

"With- kissing, and things." Jean blushes furiously, as much at the mental image of the two of them kissing as at the other word she can't bring herself to say. "Like I said, I *know* people talk like that about... us, and his debt to the family, and he's said some things to me, so I just...."

"Oh. *Gross*. No. Why would I even want that? I'll tell him so," Diluc says firmly. "And if anyone's making him feel weird about it, I'll punch them. The same if anyone makes you feel weird about it, either."

Jean's stomach drops, but at the same time she feels a rush of relief. She doesn't want Diluc to hurt Kaeya, but it has to happen sooner or later, and better that it happen before Kaeya gets too many ideas. And this way, by blaming the gossip that she honestly has overheard, she doesn't have to give up any of his secrets to Diluc. She'll keep those safe, just like he does hers. She'll just keep this conversation secret too, while she's at it.

***

However he might feel, Kaeya is an expert at *pretending* to be an alpha. It actually helps, she thinks, that Mother has spent years drilling into him that he can't be overbearing with her. If he smiles and demurs instead of posturing, and slides his way sideways out of most attempted challenges, and doesn't say a word about anything Jean does when another omega might look to their alpha for approval, then people blame Mother and not Kaeya himself. Mother meets every criticism with a pointed reminder that all dynamics are meant to be equal in freedom-loving Mondstadt, and Kaeya meets any scorn with a smile and an exact echo of her words in a faintly sardonic tone.

In the meantime, Kaeya mimics everything that Mother wouldn't reasonably have stomped out of him with aplomb. Most of it, she can tell, Diluc has taught him. Jean doesn't know when he'd shared that particular secret, or if he even has--Diluc may simply think that he's counterbalancing Mother's repression--but he imitates Diluc's straight shoulders and fierce grin when he does have to accept a challenge, and Diluc's careful backstep to signal disinterest when he's introduced to a new omega, and Diluc's fashion of cupping his hands around her own when he gives her a gift.

Which he does now and then, now that they're dating. The dating itself is a gift, too, Jean is well aware. Kaeya's disinterest in omegas is just as real as Diluc's, and it encompasses her, isn't because of her, despite the public facade that's all that makes those other omegas believe it. But she hadn't been able to keep herself being wistful, this past Windblume, and it must have been so openly that he had caught it, because she'd found herself the recipient of a bundle of roses and the worst poem she's ever read, and he'd taken the calla lilies and heartfelt if clumsy lines of her response with a smile and a cheeky reminder that, as a captain, she could afford better than he could to pay for a dinner out.

It's the least Jean can do to thank him for bothering.

Now that they are dating, Jean tries hard not to look too closely at things she isn't going to buy these days unless she's very sure that he can't afford it any more than she can. This jewelry set, though.... It's ridiculous, heart-shaped earrings and a heart-shaped pendant, set with colored glass in exactly her favorite shade of blue. Mother would disapprove of how cheap it is even if the motif wasn't so childish. Jean couldn't possibly buy something so gauche. No matter that it's cute.

And Kaeya can't buy it for her either. Necklaces are symbolic in ways that Mother would *despise*, and this particular one, with the romantic motif, would be utterly inappropriate for an alpha to give any omega but their mate. Even one they're betrothed to.

"What are we looking at?" Kaeya pokes his head over her shoulder just as Jean had expected, leaning in close. Jean enjoys the press of his shoulder against hers, and the brush of his breath on her cheek; that he means nothing by it doesn't mean that she can't take pleasure in it, so long as she doesn't discomfit him by letting it show. "Oh, that's pretty."

"I can't imagine where I would wear it, though. Mother would have a fit, and it wouldn't be appropriate on missions. It wouldn't be worth the mora."

Kaeya sighs against her ear, and it takes all Jean has not to shiver. "You don't have to talk yourself out of anything you think you want too much, you know."

"I just don't want it that much, that's all. There's no need to blow things out of proportion. And don't buy me a necklace you can't give me," Jean adds in warning. "You know how Mother would react."

"Yes, I know." Kaeya chuckles and leans back again, and Jean fights down a pang at the loss of his weight against her shoulder. "Sister Barbara! fancy seeing you here. You wouldn't happen to know how Sir Taute is holding up, would you? Jean's been worried."

Which is, if not a lie, *mostly* an untruth--Jean knows Taute is fine--but she grasps eagerly for the excuse, turning to smile at Barbara. "Yes, I would like to know."

"Let's step aside, for her privacy," Barbara says, in a cue Kaeya has long since taught them both, and smiles back at Jean as she leads her aside for a private conversation.

It doesn't occur to Jean how much of a distraction that was until hours later, when Kaeya stops her on the front porch to cup her hand and set a small box into it. Jean opens her mouth to scold him, then closes it again when she opens it. She had only told him not to buy her the necklace, after all.

"I still don't know where I'll wear them," she protests, resisting the urge to clutch the little box with its heart-shaped earrings to her chest.

"You can wear them on missions if you pass the Grand Master's uniform test. Which you should ask to take anyway. Half of your earrings dangle, and I know you wish you could wear those more often. You'll pass it with flying colors if you do."

Jean swallows down a sudden surge of emotion and puts the lid very carefully back on the box before smiling back up at Kaeya. "Maybe I will. Thank you, Kaeya."

"You're welcome."

He leans down and brushes his lips against hers in a familiarly chaste kiss, one that sends a thrill through her nonetheless. Jean takes a deep breath, taking in the rich spice-edged fruitiness of his scent, which seems to grow stronger every day. Then she pulls back before she can give into the urge to try and coax more out of him than he wants to give.

She doesn't comment on the second box she feels briefly through his jacket while they're pressed close. Kaeya may be an expert at pretending to be an alpha, eschewing jewelry for more prominent displays of ornate clothes and ornamented hair, but he ought to be allowed to experiment in private without Jean's prying. All her dreams of buying him whatever he *does* like most founder on the realities of their situation, so perhaps it's better if she doesn't know what he spends his mora on when she's not there.

Just as she shouldn't dream of a necklace to go with the earrings, and a claim he wouldn't want to make even if he dared.

***

Mindful as she is of Mother's disapproval, Jean does take advantage sometimes of having her own money to buy things that she knows Mother would never have let her spend her allowance on. The romance novels in particular. It's been years since she's had to skim them quickly in the shop or sneak them out of the Ordo library. Now she can buy them herself, at her discretion.

As long as she has good enough cause. Mother may not object aloud anymore, but Jean can still hear her voice in her head when she indulges too frivolously in some luxury she doesn't deserve.

This week, what she doesn't deserve is a beautiful first edition, with gilt edging on the pages and the author's signature on the frontispiece, of one of her favorite romance novels. She already owns a copy of the book, so it's an utterly self-indulgent purchase, but she'd thought she might have been able to earn it for herself anyway if only her company had come first in the survival games Grand Master Varka has decided the Ordo needs to run.

Unfortunately, Diluc, as always, outdoes her. Very slightly--a handful more points on foraging, which would have been balanced out by her company's better score in scouting if he hadn't made it back to base camp a mere hour before her--but it puts her company in second place, while his is first, and second place isn't good enough. She doesn't need Mother to tell her that.

Mother tells her anyway. "You *cannot* let an alpha outdo you," she says through gritted teeth, an old refrain, as she paces back and forth across their front room. "No Gunnhildr can let themselves be outdone by their peers, and that only goes double for you. Every alpha in the Ordo is primed to dismiss you, whatever excuses they may give for it. That means that you cannot give them *any* to seize upon. We have been over this."

"If it's anyone's mistake, it's mine," Kaeya says, even though he should know better than to interrupt Mother in the middle of a lecture. "I was the one who fumbled the net and lost us all those fish."

"And you cannot let him defend you!" Mother rounds on them both. "Never, *ever* let him defend you. The moment anyone perceives you as hiding behind an alpha, it will be him they look to in order to win your obedience."

"Mother," Jean begins, because ill-advised as Kaeya's words were, she owes him her defense in return.

She never gets further. Mother has significantly more to say, first to them together and then to Jean alone, and afterwards she sends Jean out with the instruction to send Kaeya in. Half of what she says to him is audible through the door.

Jean knows that all this anger is on her behalf, that it covers up the fear Mother has always felt that people will look at Jean as lesser, will disregard her accomplishments because of what she is and how she was born. That doesn't make it any less cutting. She's still raw and smarting by lunchtime the next day, though she makes sure not to let it show when she dismisses her company for their meal and heads herself to the Cathedral on the pretense of checking on two of her knights who had been particularly foolish in the games.

If that route takes her past the bookstore, well, she can look, can't she? Even if it's sand in the wound?

Maybe it should be a relief that the book is gone. The bottom drops out of Jean's stomach, though, and the rest of her day is dismal, only made more so by the discovery that Barbara is in choir practice when she arrives and won't be out before she has to go. She goes through the motions with as much efficiency as she can muster and is grateful for her bed.

She's more grateful still when Kaeya slips in through her window. Mother stopped checking on them after bedtime years ago; Jean still doesn't know if that's out of trust, or because she has some concept of what she might find teenagers up to on their own, not that Jean knows if Kaeya can stomach touching himself in the same way she couldn't resist doing in the rush of all the hormones at that age. If she still does so after he departs again from these nighttime visits, well, she's only overwhelming the room with her own scent to disguise his, or at least that's what she would try to claim if he knew.

"You know I wasn't defending you as your alpha," Kaeya says without preamble.

"I know."

Jean doesn't bother ask if Mother believed him. She doesn't know what Jean does, and Barbatos willing she never will. Not until he and Jean are married, anyway, and Kaeya is a Gunnhildr whether Mother wants him to be or no. Jean is determined to insist that he can present as whatever he is, then, or not present as whatever he isn't, and never mind the Gunnhildr reputation. It will be as welcome to her as it is to him when he stops playing the romantic alpha she wishes for in public.

Kaeya sighs in relief, as if he somehow thought she might not believe him, and sinks down onto her bed. Above the covers, while she's below, but Jean pushes the quilt down a little to bare her shoulder and he nuzzles into her neck as if he's seeking her scent. His own clouds around her. Jean breathes it in and feels herself relax.

"Do you want-"

"*Please*," Jean says, her voice nearly cracking. "Otherwise I don't think I'll sleep at all."

He pulls his face from her neck and leans down to nip at her shoulder, well below the line of her uniform, where no one, even Mother, will notice a mark. Well away from her bonding glands, too, which Jean refuses to be disappointed by. She'll get what she wants once they're married, once, if probably never again, and until then this is kindness enough.

The pinprick of pain as his teeth sink in is soothed by the brush of his tongue. His venom sweeps through her, calming her almost immediately, relaxing her muscles until she's lying nearly limp on the bed. As soon as it eases her tension away, she can feel the exhaustion throbbing in her temples surge forth to start ushering her into sleep.

She's selfish, though. Kaeya is already giving her one comfort, and she still wants another, something pleasant to take into her dreams. They used to do this through letters, hidden beneath matresses and passed back and forth in secret during the day, writing answers before bedtime to titillate each other with their secret fantasies. But they're both braver now, if only with each other. All she has to do is ask.

"If you were a pirate-" Kaeya likes pirates, so much that she's fantasized sometimes about saving up to buy him a tame dusk bird, as if Mother would ever permit such a beast in her house "-and I was a stowaway you found in the hold, what would you do with me?"

"A stowaway, hmmm?"

"A beta stowaway," Jean adds impulsively. "Promised by my family to-" she yawns "-to a powerful mated couple in, hmm, Fontaine, whom I loathed enough to flee."

Kaeya props himself up on one elbow and cups her cheek, running his thumb gently down it. With his venom in her veins, Jean couldn't resist her shiver if she wanted to.

"Well, if *that* was the case, you'd be quite a prize, wouldn't you? You'd have to convince me that it was worth my while not to give you up for a reward...."

He starts to detail exactly how Jean might convince him in warm, suggestive tones. Jean lets his voice wash over her, and as she sinks into sleep, all her disappointment fades away. She doesn't need first place, or that book, or even Mother's approval. She already has everything she really needs.

***

Her future with Kaeya is so certain, so solid a factor in Jean's life that she doesn't realize how fragile it actually is until Mother, with one private meeting and the slash of a pen, throws it all away.

Jean is still reeling as she follows Mother home, her throat hoarse from shouting protests that went nowhere against the united wall of her and the Grand Master and the Seneschal, all furious in different and equally terrifying ways. Mother's fury is quiet, grim, and sharp, and leads her straight to Kaeya's room. She doesn't even seem to notice Jean right on her tail.

She tosses Kaeya's room with vicious efficiency, emptying drawers, flipping his mattress, digging into the back corners of his closet, and then circling back to pry at solid furniture and slit everything soft in search of hidden compartments and stashes. Which Kaeya *has*, as it turns out. Jean is only briefly shocked; she would have hidden some of this from Mother, too, if she'd had certain of his secrets, or even if she'd simply known how to conceal things as cleverly as he has.

None of it, though, is evidence. Mother's frustration mounts as she dumps out jewelry and hair ribbons, toys and harnesses that under any other circumstances would make Jean blush, and books with featureless red covers that even now do. She tosses a necklace atop the pile of earrings and bangles with a snort of disgust, not seeming to recognize the blue glass heart that makes Jean freeze in place, nor note that betraying reaction. While she turns back to the closet, Jean reaches out with shaking fingers and dares to snatch it up. Had Kaeya bought that for himself...?

The back of the closet is full of bedding that Jean knows no Gunnhildr has ever purchased. Most of it is the same shade of pale sky-blue as the necklace, just enough lighter than Mondstadt blue a proper Gunnhildr should prefer that the difference is obvious. None of it has the feather and bird motifs that Kaeya most likes, nor the diamonds that are his second-favorite; there's a duvet embroidered with fine white dandelion seeds blowing in an invisible wind, a scarf with orange tabbies, a pair of pillows with several increasingly pale shades to suggest clouds, a brown-and-green quilt whose interlocking blocks are, she realizes, in the shape of tortoises.... Mother tosses another piece upon the pile, a green silk robe decorated with purple cranes.

"This is nesting material," Jean says aloud, her voice scratchy in her throat.

"He had *ambitions*, didn't he." Mother's lip curls. "Let's both be grateful that his nerve failed before he got that far."

Jean swallows hard. Mother moves on to the closet's top shelf, where the red-bound erotica had been, and pulls out a few more books that she tosses out atop the pile with such carelessness that Jean nearly cries out in horror. All are romances, and every one is familiar, from the old and yellowing one where Vennessa holds a Lawrence at swordpoint on the cover to the fine leatherbound, gilt-edged first edition she hadn't won the right to buy last year.

Kaeya has never cared for romances. These are all to Jean's taste, ones that she had wanted and for some reason or another had never purchased. She doesn't remember the details, but she finds herself certain anyway that she'd either eyed them or mentioned them in Kaeya's presence.

A feeling is stirring inside her that isn't shock, or grief, or even horror. Jean realizes, staring at the hard lines of Mother's back as she jerks a hidden bag out from where it was tied beneath the wardrobe and pours out only mora, that it's defiance.

She takes a step back, then another, then turns and flees the room while Mother is still distracted. Nothing in there is going to be evidence. Not of Kaeya's supposed treachery, nor of the loyalty that Jean can't help but believe in. One way or another, she'll have to find her own.

Mother has discarded enough of Jean's family. She was a child when she lost Barbara, and powerless to act; now she's a woman grown, a knight and an officer, with a Vision at her waist and all the power of her recent promotion at her disposal. This time, Jean won't let Mother throw away someone she loves. She'll get Kaeya back.

#fic bits #(this could be a real fic if i wanted to expand it out more. but i don't. it's basically a fanfic of the au itself and i'm okay with that)#jean and kaeya run this city #memories of warmer days #(there is some confusion going on here re: cross-pollination of gender and sexuality that is deliberate btw #jean is a teenager whose entire context for both comes from romance novels and her mother's lectures and fears #so her understanding of things is... maybe not comprehensive and complete. regarding both herself and other people #it takes a couple of years past this but eventually they figure it all out together :> )

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drowsy-siren · 8 months

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I love deck building games so I just wanted to ask which one(s) are your favorite?

I really want to get into one but I feel like there’s always an entry barrier that I have a hard time getting around. Any advice?

Thanks ❤️

Excellent question. and I'm gonna be VERBOSE in my response, best of luck dear readers:

So I'll start with TCGs / PVP deckbuilders: I've played MTG / MTG:A, Legends of Runeterra, Hearthstone, Marvel Snap, and Gwent. Of these, I've enjoyed Hearthstone, Marvel Snap, and MTG the most. I stopped playing Hearthstone because it is owned by Activision-Blizzard, but if that is okay with you, I would recommend it. I feel it is fairly simple to understand mechanically, and the largest barrier is having cards to play with (which is best fixed by doing your daily missions, if you dont have ~$70 or whatever it is now to get a ton of packs) Marvel Snap I LOVED as soon as I started playing. It's an absolute blast and a few months ago, I would have said that it was a nearly-perfect PVP deckbuilder. And to me, it's one of the best because for a while, the exact deck you were running wasn't all that important. Your "winnings" were moreso dictated by your ability to read the game and know when to double down on your wins or back out, rather than being reflective of the actual outcome of deck-vs-deck. My issue with the game recently is that I disagree with the devs decisions to make card-collection growth extremely slow later in the game (I could do a separate post about it, cuz it would be verbose, so I'll leave it at that for now). BUT, this largely does not impact newer players. In fact, I think it is easier for newer players to get cards that they like and want. I feel that Snap is a fairly easy game to learn quickly, and the skill development comes from learning when to snap (the doubling-down mechanic) and predicting what your opponent might do. I feel that you can enjoy the game as a F2P player, but if you want to be highly competitive, you'll likely want to buy the monthly battlepass for the card that comes with it.

MTG is a social game to me, and I think (unless you are intending to be competitive / go to FNM or tournaments) it should be treated as such. And what I mean by that is I believe you should find people of similar mindset to you, in terms of what level of play you want to experience at your table and how strict of rules you want to adhere to. I tend to only play Commander/EDH or variations on it (planechase), but I do enjoy one-off draft games. And I play with people who likewise enjoy these formats and are generally lax with how they play. There are a LOT of magic cards, so being an "efficient" deckbuilder in MTG is extremely inaccessible to new players, imo, simply due to the sheer volume of cards to consider. BUT, when you play with more relaxed/casual players who are there for fun, good company, and silly times, it can be very easy to get into because there are resources like Pre-Con decks or EDHREC to simplify the deck-building process and get you playing sooner/more easily. If you are looking to become more competitive at MTG, I recommend playing MTG:Arena because it's an easy way to get a bunch of games under your belt and get a feel for what kinds of cards and decks are strong at the moment.

Non-PVP Deckbuilders:

So, if you like deckbuilders but aren't as big on TCGs for money reasons or the companies that make them are shitty, there are a bunch of other deckbuilders that I absolutely love and recommend to everyone (advice about getting into them will be at the end cuz it's kind of the same for all of them):

So first and foremost, Slay the Spire. An absolute blast, deckbuilding roguelike/roguelite that was absolutely addicting to play. I cannot recommend this game enough. Across the Obelisk. Like Slay the Spire, it's a deckbuilding RPG. BUT. It's multiplayer (up to 4). It is soooooo much fun, with really interesting narrative paths. Progression looks like unlocking new characters and unlocking/upgrading things that make your runs easier. And difficulty ramps up pretty quickly without making you feel discouraged. Cannot recommend this enough Wildfrost. Another deckbuilding roguelike. It's very fun, but very different than Slay the Spire because a lot of the gameplay focuses on interactions with ally and enemy positioning, in different lanes of combat.

Beneath Oresa. HOLY FUCK is it cool and fun. It only fully released within the past few weeks, I played a couple months ago and am so curious what's been added. It is another deck-building roguelike, but it's 2.5D ish in that you do combat in zones (near and far). And (extra cool) your character is physically moving around a space when you fight and bounce between these zones. The artwork is stunning and I cant wait to see what they did with the narrative because the atmosphere is incredible.

I probably have a couple others, but they didn't come to mind as I was writing this, so I'm leaving them out for now. One key recommendation about the non-TCG deckbuilders, particularly the roguelike ones, is to keep your deck size small. It's easy to see a cool card and want access to it, but the more cards in your deck, the less consistent your hands are. When you get the option to remove cards from your deck, use them

#ask Siren #nerdposting #gay mergirl gamergirl #mtg #transgender

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bitchesgetriches · 1 year

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Hi Bitches! I have a relationship/money question for you?

I'm in a fairly new relationship with a guy, and it's going pretty well so far. My only real complaint is that I feel like things are kind of unbalanced in terms of how much we're each financially contributing, if that makes sense?

For the first couple dates, I convinced him to trade off on who paid for dinner, which was good. But now that we're doing more 'stay-home' dates - ordering in or cooking - it feels like he's paying way more than his share. For food, renting movies, etc. And now he's the one buying all the supplies for our physical relationship!

I've told him I'm not wild about him spending so much on me, but he just waved it off. He has mentioned before that gift giving is one of his preferred forms of showing affection, but... We're both financially comfortable (and financially responsible) but I was recently promoted, so I know I'm making a fair bit more than he is. How do I have this conversation with him to get the point across? Any suggestions on ways to balance the scale?

Honey bunches of oats... let him pay.

You don't mention your gender, but I'm going to assume you're a woman (if I assume wrong... disregard this next bit). And this whole situation smacks of one of the primary tenets of heteronormative romance: the man pays for things so he can subconsciously feel like a strong and masculine provider. I know men who literally find it insulting if a woman they're dating pays for a date instead of them. Not saying this is the case with your boyfriend... but still, it can be a sensitive topic with a lot of men in dating situations!

Heteronormativity aside, you should still let him spend what he wants to spend on your dates. While it's very thoughtful of you to want to equalize things, you cannot control his financial decisions nor his reasons for those decisions. And despite what you think you know about his financial situation... PERSONAL FINANCE IS PERSONAL. Your relationship is new enough that you likely don't get the full picture.

That said, if it's truly bothering you, you can let him know--briefly and with care--something like "I wish you'd let me pay for my fair share of these dates. I don't want to feel like I'm taking advantage of you." He'll probably repeat something about his love language or whatever, at which point you should drop it. Under no circumstances should you verbally compare your incomes.

After that, just tell him how grateful you are when he pays for things, and find other ways to contribute to your experiences together. Maybe that means a hard split-the-bill rule when you go out. Maybe it means you always bring wine or a six pack to your evenings in when he's cooking. Maybe you splurge on that Ninja Turtles cosplay you know will rev his engine in the bedroom--I don't know! This is a money blog, not a sexy times blog!

Enjoy the honeymoon phase and don't worry so much about splitting equally right now.

How Dafuq Do Couples Share Their Money?

Take Pride in Being a Cheap Date

#dating advice #money in dating #personal finance

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mylittlegayheart1221 · 11 months

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Catarina Rodriguez x fem reader

Warnings: none this is angst and fluff

summary: you are a secret spy to track where is Catarina Rodriguez because she stole all Carlos money you were sent by Carlos and you leave Beverly valley to go to Paris to find Catarina, but little do you know during your mission you fell in love with her.

You work as a spy for Carlos Rodriguez. You were just sitting down minding Ur business in your small office in Rodriguez industry until Carlos came in and requested something you to do something for him.

“Hey, I need to request you to do something for me “Carlos said.

“Sure, what is it “you asked.

“Remember my ex-wife, Catarina?” Carlos said.

Carlos told you a lot of Catarina off how she ran away with an Egyptian prince. You felt bad for Cinnamon and Carlos, and you thought that Catarina is a bad person.

“What about her?” You asked.

“She stole 10K from me and she ran away so I need you to go to Paris and track her down for me “Carlos said.

You nodded in response without hesitation. You do as what he said because you are getting paid anyways.

“Great so you will take this earbud so I can tell you what to do and you leave tomorrow so you can leave work early today to park and always remember stick to the plan” Carlos said handing you the earbuds.

You left the Rodriguez industry workplace and head to your house and started to pack you packed almost your whole wardrobe cause you don’t know how long you're staying in Paris.

After 44 minutes you finished packing lay on your bed exhausted you eventually fell asleep.

the next day.

you woke up and went to get ready today is your flight to Paris on a mission you remember Carlos gave you a private jet so after getting ready you just took your luggage and went to the private jet.

after 5 hours, you reached Paris you decided to go to the bakery to buy croissant and a coffee for yourself once you pay you bumped into someone spilling your coffee on that person.

“I am so sorry “you said looking up just to find it was Catarina Rodriguez and she looked pissed.

“ excuse me do you know how expensive this dress is oh wait you won’t “ Catarina said in an angry tone.

“who are you? You look familiar?” Katrina asked.

You started to panic you were supposed to spy on her and track her down you haven’t even put the earbuds on because you just landed you tried to walk past her, but she stopped you.

“Answer my question “Catarina said in serious tone.

You have flashback on one year ago when your new to your job and cinnamon is giving you advice.

Flashback:

“One more rule of being a secret spy is when any rich people asked who you are just say you are a nobody because they couldn’t care less because we rich “Cinnamon said.

end of flashback

“I am a nobody you should care about because you couldn’t care less “you said.

“Yeah, you are right, but you still owe me for my dress “Catarina said before walking away.

You realized you were supposed to spy on Catarina, so you ran up to her stopped her.

“Is there anything I can do to owe it up to you?” You asked forcing a fake smile.

you already knew this gonna end up worst but you have no choice

“ Hmm be my maid because my old maid i fired her she was useless” Catarina said.

You were starting to regret it but it was part of the plan if she lets you in her house you can find the money.

“ sure why not “ you said faking a smile.

“ Great come to my house and if you do anything stupid I fire you got it ?” Catarina said her face was close to you for a second .

you were just staring at her you never knew she was this beautiful wait you are falling in love with her? No, you thought to yourself you are on a mission.

" Hey, are you just going to stand there and look like an Idiot or are you coming?" Catarina said making you snapped out of your thoughts.

She rolled her eyes and went to her limo as you followed her. While in the limo you took the earbuds and wore it and Catarina is just staring at you it looks like she is still suspecting you.

The whole ride was awkward and uncomfortable but finally you reached to her mansion perfect now you just have to find where the money is to take it and go.

You thought it will be simple but oh this is just the beginning.

You got out of the limo and Catarina lead you to your room It was big and you did not expect it.

"This is your room and remember I could ruin your life if you tried to betray me" Catarina said.

"Enough chit-chatting time for you to do your job" Catarina said before leaving room.

" Hello?" Carlos said in the earbuds.

"Yes?' You asked.

"Is everything going according to plan?" Carlos asked.

"Everything is going according to plan, but I must be a maid" you said.

You went downstairs started mopping the floor for 3 hours because the house is too big. You went on Instagram for a while until you came across a post it was your ex-girlfriend who betrayed you by cheating on you. You sighed. You loved her but she betrayed you.

You wanted to cry so you just ran to the bathroom but on your way, you bumped into Catarina. You look up and apologize.

" Watch where you are going" Catarina said but you just ignored her tears were blurring your vision.

Catarina noticed and hugged you. You were shocked she is mean, but she still has a heart deep down. You were falling deeply in love but you have to stick to plan.

"Carry on cleaning" Catarina said walking away.

You went to the bathroom to take your phone out, but it was not in your pocket you panicked.

You just decided to take the money first and go find your phone. You remember there was an office and they money must be hidden there, so you sneakily went to her office.

You were right there was a safe but what is the password. But before you could even guess the password someone put their hand cover your mouth causing you to scream but you dozed off.

You woke up and your heading is hurting. You look around only to find yourself surrounded by men in a cabin.

" Where am I?" You asked but the men did not answer you.

"Oh, I am sure you know why you are here" A familiar voice said.

It was Catarina Rodriguez and at this point you knew she found out about your plan.

"You see I knew you look familiar so when you were secretly talking to my ex-husband it clicked then I remembered that day at Rodriguez industry workplace I went there to steal Carlos's money and saw you but did not think much of it." Catarina said smirking.

"Oh, and you were looking for this?" Catarina said taking your phone out.

" How did you even unlock my phone?" You asked her.

"Oh, I have my ways" Catarina said.

"Kill her" Catarina order her men.

" What?" You asked.

"You know I actually trusted you, but you betrayed I told you I can ruin you." Catarina said.

You untied yourself and beat up those men. You could not do this job anymore, so you just wanted to confess your feelings to Catarina. Catarina just stomped out the cabin. You ran out to catch up to her.

" Catarina please wait" You shouted catching your breath.

"What do you want now? You betrayed me so leave me alone" Catarina said crossing her arms.

"That was before I really know you" you said.

"What do you mean?" Catarina said.

This is it you thought to yourself you going to confess to her.

"I never believed in love after my ex-girlfriend but when I met you I started to believe in love" you said.

"What? "Catarina asked.

" I am in love with you Catarina, and I do not want to continue bring a spy for Carlos." You confessed.

" Look I know you won't love me back but I-" Before you could finished.

Catarina just kissed you and you do not know say or do.

"I love you too" Catarina said hugging you.

You have quit being a spy and live your life with Catarina Rodriguez.

#Catarinarodriguez #bvh #beverlyvalleyhigh

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mark6f · 1 year

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sport9s · 2 years

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

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5 times Merlin noticed Arthur’s odd reactions to things,

+1 time he could start on the road to helping.

TW: Graphic descriptions of child abuse, claustrophobia, panic attacks/flashbacks/disassociating.

Merlin notices things. He always has done, ever since he was a child. Maybe it was the magic, maybe it was the ingrained fear of being snuck up on (as a Bastard child, as a citizen of Essetir, and as someone with magic) or maybe it was just some odd, innate skill. It doesn’t really matter: Merlin is observant, he has keen eyes, which is why he notices Arthur’s sudden change in disposition.

It was a normal afternoon, Arthur and Merlin had just gotten back from the first hunt of the spring and were filling The King in on how it had gone. Well... Arthur was, Merlin was just sort of stood there.

The servant was annoyed that Arthur had dragged him along, both to the hunt and to the meeting, but The Prince had been so excited (not that he showed it too much) at the prospect of telling his father how well everything went, he conceded easily. It was rare that Arthur got his father’s approval; Merlin had only been serving him for a few months, so maybe it was stupid of him to want to see Arthur happy, but oh well. He may be a prat, but he meant well and he loved his people, he deserved a little happiness occasionally.

Uther was in fact proud, and Merlin had better luck than Arthur at holding his grin in, though that changed quickly.

Arthur was looking out of the window and making casual comments on when he planned on going out next, and Uther, stepping quietly without even realising it, manages to move to the space just behind him without Arthur noticing. He claps a firm, but proud hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and if Merlin hadn’t known that Arthur would deny it later, he would accuse him of jumping a foot in the air. He turns around quickly, eyes wide and barely focusing as Uther gives his son another congratulations, as well as a terse “Make sure you keep it up.”

The sudden tightness in Arthur’s shoulders and his clear discomfort at having Uther so close do not go unnoticed by Merlin and he frowns, making a split second decision that could very well get him put in the stocks:

“Sorry to interrupt, My Lords, but The Prince mentioned wanting to join the evening patrol. Sir Leon and his partner will be leaving shortly.”

Uther whips his head around disapprovingly, and his anger at Merlin for interrupting whatever it was he was about to say translates to a tightened grip on Arthur’s shoulder. The Prince flinches slightly, but carefully steps away from The King, speaking before he can order the servant punished:

“Right you are, Merlin. If you’re happy for me to take my leave, father?”

Uther looks back to his son, confused, but approving of Arthur’s sudden eagerness to join extra patrols:

“Very well. I expect you to keep up the hard work, Arthur, I shall be disappointed if you start slacking again.”

Arthur nods and bows, but doesn’t say anything, his jittery demeanour getting worse with The King’s vaguely threatening tone. He walks stiffly from the room, and Merlin follows with a confused frown, making sure to keep his distance and step loudly on the stone floor; apparently Arthur was feeling jumpy today.

Arthur, still in his armour, leads them down to the courtyard where Sir Leon and another knight were indeed preparing to leave. The Prince doesn’t say anything to Merlin, simply nods in his direction before joining the others, and Merlin thinks he must have done the right thing if Arthur wasn’t shouting at him for giving him extra work that he hadn’t intended to do.

He stores this new, odd information in his mind for future reference, reminding himself to stay away from The Prince’s back and warn him of anyone approaching.

The next thing Merlin notices doesn’t come from a specific incident, more from a series of odd happenings over time.

When Arthur had been released from the dungeons after Merlin’s miraculous survival from being poisoned, he was a mess. At the time, Merlin had smugly suggested that it was because Arthur was worried about him; his hair was similar to a bird’s nest, as if The Prince had been running his hands through it and pulling it on a near constant basis, and the shirt he was wearing frankly stunk of sweat.

Arthur had rolled his eyes at that and slunk off to sulk in his chambers—once Gaius had assured him Merlin would be fine—and the young servant had taken that as confirmation.

The first time Merlin actually witnesses Arthur’s quick, shallow breath and wide panicked eyes, they’re rushing through the narrow servant corridors. The Prince’s grip on his sword looks uncomfortably tight and the sweat on his brow seems a little odd: they weren’t running that fast. Merlin figures that Arthur is just stressed out from trying to catch the sneaky arsehole assassin who was trying to do in as many councilmen as he could before getting away.

Which is an understandable thing to be stressed about.

Merlin only takes actual note of it when, after the assassin had gotten away, The King had demanded Arthur retrace his footsteps back through the castle to see if the criminal had dropped anything or hidden anywhere. Arthur practically freezes up at that, his wide eyes and pale skin making Merlin frown in confusion, only for his frown to deepen when Arthur stutters through his suggestion of having another knight lead the internal search whilst Arthur heads out into the city.

The relief on Arthur’s face when Uther agrees is, though brief and immediately hidden, immense.

Merlin thinks back on the state Arthur had been in after he’d quested for Merlin’s cure. Perhaps... perhaps Arthur had been such a mess because he had spent a night in the dungeons, and not because he had been worried about Merlin.

As much as Arthur might like to think Merlin’s an idiot, the servant makes quick connections, pieces things together easily, like a children’s puzzle. At least when it comes to Arthur.

The servant is also reminded of the way Arthur insists that Merlin leave a few candles lit in the evening. At first, Merlin thought it was because Arthur was sneaking out of bed to get more paperwork done (Uther may rarely see it, but Arthur works ridiculously hard), but he checked the paperwork one morning and nothing had been added or altered. Then he though that it was maybe so Arthur could see any attackers coming in the night, because he was paranoid like that, but the candles always burnt out after a couple hours anyway, so it wasn’t like they were lasting through the night.

Merlin figures he was probably just reading into things too much (plus, he knows that accusing Arthur of being afraid of the dark or tight spaces would get him nothing but a slap up the head and, depending on The Prince’s mood, a visit to the stocks), though Arthur refusing to stay in Merlin’s tiny bedroom for any longer than necessary, and insisting on multiple torches being lit whenever they ventured into caves, forces Merlin to reconsider.

It was after one such adventure in one such cave that Merlin took advantage of the castle’s funds being available to him, and heads down to the market to buy some larger candles (and if he cast a spell to make them last longer... well... no one needed to know). Arthur gives him an odd look when he walks into The Prince’s chambers that evening and begins setting up and lighting them without acknowledgement; Merlin answers his questioning hum without looking at him:

“I know you like to be able to see just in case attackers make it into your chambers: these ones should last all the way until the morning. I set up a standing order with a merchant in the lower town.”

Arthur frowns confusedly, knowing that no one had managed to sneak into his chambers in months; it was definitely odd that Merlin had suddenly decided that this was a good idea. Still, Merlin doesn’t look back at him as he casually moves around the room, lighting the new candles and hoping that Arthur wouldn’t notice him leaving the curtains open by about an inch. He notices, though he doesn’t mention it in his response:

“Hmm. It seems you’re finally putting that brain of yours to use, Merlin.”

Merlin finally turns to look at him, glaring half-heartedly as he sarcastically laughs. Arthur just grins at him, glancing at the strip of moonlight on the floor for only a moment before climbing into his bed, muttering for Merlin to go ahead and get an early night.

From then on, Merlin packs extra torches in his pack when they go adventuring, and if he has room, a candle, in case they end up in an inn. If Arthur notices any of that, or the fact that Merlin always opens the window whenever they’re in the tiny Physician’s chambers for more than five minutes and always keeps him company on the now-rare nights Uther is angry enough to lock Arthur in the dungeons... well... neither of them point it out.

The next odd reaction doesn’t happen until years later.

Of course Merlin keeps noticing Arthur’s aversion to surprise touch (especially from knights and his father) and general dislike of the dark/closed spaces, but dealing with it and adjusting to make things easier just sort of becomes part of their routine, without either of them really realising.

Arthur has been King for a few weeks when it happens. It's warm, too warm for armour, so the roundtable knights are practicing their hand to hand instead of using swords and shields. Arthur usually sits out for these lessons, teaching and observing from the side-lines as opposed to taking part in spars. Merlin had always thought it was odd, but the one and only time he had brought it up, years ago, Arthur had forced him to join in on the lessons. He had a lot of bruises that day.

But today was not a usual day apparently; Arthur joined in. He seemed reluctant at first, like he was unsure if he actually wanted to, but his first weeks as King had been going well and he’d had a successful meeting with some of his Lords the previous day, so he’s in a good mood. He finally caves when Lancelot offers to spar with him; there was something about the gentle man that just makes everyone in his vicinity feel a little more at ease.

The sun was shining, but heavy rain the previous week means the grass was bright and soft; all in all, it was a lovely day, but Merlin’s focus was still on Arthur and the way he and Lance dance around each other. All the knights were holding their strength back a little, the purpose of sparring is rarely to go all out, but practicing form and technique and footwork is always a good idea.

Arthur falls into the rhythm of the spar, dodging and side-stepping and blocking with ease, neither he nor Lance were eager to speed things up in the heat. He was moving automatically, running on instincts and just a little bit of adrenaline, which is probably why he freezes up when confronted with something so terrifyingly familiar.

A glint of sunlight off something metallic caches his eye, and his gaze moves away from the fight for barely a split-second, but when he looks back all he can see is shortly cropped brown hair, a bright red tunic, and a fist swinging for his face.

Lancelot yelps when Arthur doesn’t block like he had expected him to, and Merlin is sprinting over before The King’s head has even finished rocking to the side. The other knights go to crowd closer, worried for their leader, but Merlin waves them off harshly and they keep their distance, trusting him. Lancelot looks horrified, but dutifully steps back as Merlin puts one hand on Arthur’s shoulder and uses the other to tilt his chin from side to side.

Merlin’s frown deepens when Arthur just lets himself be manhandled. Even in his worst injuries he was reluctant to let people check him over; Merlin quickly notices his wide eyes staring vacantly and the breathing that was far deeper than it really should be. He tries to get The King to look at him as he speaks lowly, so the others can’t hear him:

“Arthur? You with me?”

Arthur gulps, blinking rapidly and meeting his gaze, though Merlin can tell that he still isn’t really seeing:

“I... I’m sorry, I... I didn’t mean... I wasn’t...”

Merlin can only just hear Arthur’s whispers, and he’s grateful for the fact that the others definitely can’t hear them. He moves the hand on Arthur’s shoulder down to grip the other man’s hand and squeezes, and uses the other to shield his eyes from the sun as he mutters:

“Arthur, it’s Merlin, you’re out on the training field with members of the Roundtable, it’s late Spring, and you were crowned King three weeks ago. Arthur?”

It’s only then that Arthur’s eyes come into focus.

Merlin has never been grateful to have the bones in his hands almost break, and he doubts he’ll ever be grateful for it again. Merlin’s squeezes back, digging his nails in just a little as a subtle “please don’t break my hand”. Arthur loosens his grip and Merlin raises his eyebrow slightly in question; the blonde groans slightly and lifts a shaking hand to rub his eyes:

“What happened?”

Merlin glances at the huddle of knights behind him and gives them a reassuring smile before he looks back to Arthur, speaking so everyone can hear:

“You took quite the well placed hit from Lance, got a mild concussion and lost yourself for a minute. You’ll probably be fine by this evening, but I want to get you in the shade just in case, ok?”

Arthur seems surprised at the explanation, but nods wordlessly, letting Merlin guide him up towards the castle without a fuss. That just worries Merlin more, and he speeds up slightly as he yells over his shoulder:

“Leon’s in charge!”

Leon just chuckles, knowing that Merlin wouldn’t be paying them the slightest bit of attention if Arthur was even close to being seriously injured, but Gwaine just tilts his head and frowns:

“I love the guy but since when does Merlin decide who’s in charge? If he had said Elyan was in charge would we have just... gone with it?”

Leon shoves him playfully and tells him to get back to work, giving Lancelot a comforting pat on the shoulder as they all look away from the servant-King duo.

Merlin doesn’t take Arthur to the physician’s chambers, but goes to The King’s bedchamber instead; Arthur wasn’t actually concussed, but his mind had been elsewhere for a moment, so much so that he hadn’t recognised Merlin and spoke to him as if he were someone else. He sits The King down on the edge of the bed and kneels in front of him, hands on his knees as he frowns:

“Arthur? Still with me, or gone again?”

Arthur takes in a sharp breath, making eye contact with Merlin again as he straightens his back and answers confidently, his voice wavering only slightly:

“Yeah, yes, I’m with you. Sorry, lost in thought. I don’t feel concussed, are you sure?”

Merlin nods and stands up, leaving Arthur on the bed as he moves to open the window and get him a goblet of water:

“Hmm, I lied, I don’t think you are either, you weren’t hit that hard to be honest, but you weren’t really... with it, thought it best to get you away from the others.-”

He turns around the see Arthur tense and angry-looking, though Merlin gets the distinct impression that it’s not aimed at him:

“-You probably just got dazed by the hit, that and you’re overtired, you’ve been staying up late the last few nights. Drink this, maybe have a nap, or at least stay out of the sunlight for a few hours, you’ll definitely be getting a headache at some point soon and I don’t want you to make it worse.”

He hands over the goblet of water, holding it slightly out of Arthur’s reach so the other man has to stand for it. He manages to stand on his own two feet with no issue, and the shaking in his hands is lesser than it was before, though not gone entirely, so Merlin makes a mental list of all the chores that he could finish here, in Arthur’s presence. The King drinks the water absent-mindedly, leaving the goblet on the side table as he mutters:

“Overtired... yeah, probably.”

He wanders towards his desk, collapsing in the seat and staring half-heartedly at the paperwork spread all over the place. Merlin relaxes slightly, deciding that maybe there was a reason Arthur never joined in on hand-to-hand.

Merlin wasn’t fond of Arthur’s current visitor, Lord Algere, but he was pleased to note that Arthur didn’t seem all that fond of him either. He was an old supporter of Uther’s, which meant the occasional snide remark about how Uther would’ve handled certain situations differently, followed by deferential admissions of being “a close friend and advisor to the former King.”.

He was just friendly and kiss-ass enough that he couldn’t be kicked from court, that Arthur still had to be polite to him, but he rubbed pretty much everyone up the wrong way and Merlin couldn’t wait until he left to go back to his estate, thankfully situated on the furthest edge of the Kingdom.

It's the day before he’s due to leave when he says it:

“You remind me of your father a great deal, you know, you’re very similar.”

Arthur freezes up at the so-called compliment, but recovers quickly, giving the Lord a tight smile before excusing himself so he wouldn’t be late for the city border patrol he was undertaking. Normally Merlin didn’t go with him on these patrols, he’d only be gone for a couple hours at most and he was joined by a partner; it gave Merlin time to finish up some chores, but the servant felt the need to be there today.

The King is silent the entire time, which is unusual considering he's riding alongside Sir Leon today, and those two always have something official to talk about. He doesn’t even spare Merlin an annoyed glance when the servant drops his bag and has to dismount to pick it up, only halts and waits for him to catch up again. Though he's sure The King had relaxed slightly at the beginning of the patrol, when Merlin mentioned that he fancied tagging along, and if Merlin weren’t so worried he’d be immensely proud at his apparent ability to put Arthur at ease.

Leon gives Merlin a worried grimace as they ride back into the citadel, but Merlin shakes his head and smiles, his meaning of “I’ll deal with it, I’m sure he’s fine” obvious in the action. The two of them have gotten quite good at silently communicating over the years, God forbid Arthur find out that they were trying to look after him.

They made the journey up to Arthur’s chambers in continued silence, though Merlin really starts to really worry when Arthur just wanders over to the window and stares down into the courtyard. He only does that when he’s feeling particularly pensive. Merlin lays out the work he knows Arthur had wanted to get done this afternoon and perches on the edge of the desk, facing Arthur’s back with his arms crossed:

“Arthur, you alright? You’ve been quiet.”

Arthur nods, but doesn’t turn away from the window, staying silent. Merlin purses his lips, but it doesn’t take him long to figure out what he thinks might be wrong. He moves across the room and sits himself down at the dining table, casually starting on the polishing he had left there earlier as he speaks, trying to keep his tone as neutral and absent-minded as possible:

“I’ve no clue what Algere was talking about earlier, he either knows nothing about you, or didn’t know your father nearly as much as he says he did.”

Arthur finally turns from the window, fixing a curious frown on Merlin, who forces himself to keep his gaze down:

“What makes you say that?”

Merlin still doesn’t look up, but knows that he’s on the right track. Arthur has been able to admit, especially recently with his changing opinions on magic, that his father was not a good man, though he still struggles to admit that he wasn’t a good father:

“Well, from what I’ve seen, you look way more like your mother than you do Uther, and you don’t act like him at all, you haven’t picked up on any of his mannerisms or anything.-”

The servant finally looks up at Arthur, his words true but his nonchalance false as he continues with a confused frown:

“-To be honest, I’ve always thought you act more like an odd mix of Leon and Morgana. You’ve definitely got Leon’s sense of chivalry and respect and his knightly traits, but your... how do I say... fiery attitude when it comes to your sense of right and wrong, that’s definitely Morgana. Uther was quick to anger, you’ve got fairly good control of your anger nowadays. Uther was set in his ways and refused to change no matter the consequences, you bend traditions all the time, improve things in ways that Uther would never have dreamed of doing.-”

The servant shrugs and looks back down to his polishing:

“-I just don’t see the similarities, and I certainly know you better than Algere. I’ve a feeling I knew Uther better than Algere as well.”

Arthur hums non-committedly, but sits down at his desk instead of turning back to the window. Merlin feels the tension leave his shoulders, but doesn’t relax fully when he notices Arthur staring at his folded hands instead of working. Apparently it had only partially worked:

“Arthur?”

He doesn’t look up, just shuffles slightly in his eat as he lowly answers:

“Do you think I might... turn out like him? In the end? People say he was kind and gentle when he was young. If... if I ever have children...”

The question goes unasked, but the fear in his voice is palpable, and Merlin has to stop himself from sprinting from the room to burn every painting of Uther he can find. Instead, he puts the armour down on the table softly and stands, making sure to step loudly and clear his throat as he leans against the edge of Arthur’s desk again:

“Arthur, you’re a wonderful King, a wonderful knight, a wonderful man, and I guarantee that one day you’ll be a wonderful father. Don’t stress, you’ve out done your father in every other aspect of your life, I’m sure you’ll continue to do so.”

Arthur looks up at Merlin with a slight frown on his face, though it’s more thoughtful than anything. Merlin holds his gaze with a soft smile for a few moments, content to wait for Arthur to give him some sort of cue; Arthur just rolls his eyes and shoves him from the table, picking up a quill and finally beginning to actually work:

“Try not to insult the former King too much in one sitting, Merlin. And that armour won’t polish itself.”

Merlin just laughs quietly and moves back to the table, understanding and accepting that that was probably the best he was going to get. He makes a mental note to mention Arthur’s similarities to Leon next time the three of them are together; Arthur will be relieved, though he won’t show it, and Leon will be flattered beyond words.

He dares not do it with Morgana. Both of them would be secretly be pleased, though they’d kick up one hell of a fuss trying to deny it.

Thankfully, the two of them are in Arthur’s chambers when it happens.

Merlin’s not entirely sure he could use the “concussion” excuse like he did last time, not with the length of time it lasted.

It’s late, the curtains are drawn—with the traditional inch wide gap allowing a strip of moonlight to fall across the floor and over Arthur’s bed—and Arthur’s special candles have been lit. He’d been made aware of the spell Merlin had cast on them a few months ago, and though he was annoyed that Merlin had put himself at such risk, he hadn’t asked him to remove the spell, which the servant took as a good sign (both that Arthur wasn’t too mad about the magic, and that it had been a good idea).

The King sits at his desk, doing his normal pile of evening paperwork and trying to fit in as much as he can before Merlin snatches it away and manhandles him into bed, Merlin who is generally pottering around the room tidying. Arthur thinks of it more as just... moving the mess around, but he let’s him be; Merlin’s quiet company is much appreciated, especially with all the difficulties Arthur is having with repealing the ban on magic.

The King lets out a deep sigh, sitting back in his chair and tiredly rubbing his eyes. Merlin notices, because of course he does, and wanders over, a concerned frown on his face as he sits in the chair opposite him:

“You alright? Hit a snag?”

Arthur hums but shakes his head, opening his eyes but staying slumped in his seat; Merlin makes plans to get him to bed at some point in the next half candle mark at least:

“Hmm. No, just tired. This whole thing is draining, I wish I could just force them to see sense.”

Merlin knew that the them Arthur speaks of is the council. Currently, The King has about half of them on side, not including Leon, Morgana, and Gaius, but they need a majority by a significant margin before they can move forward, and Arthur refuses to act in any way that isn’t democratic.

Merlin nods, smiling softly at his lap as Arthur closes his eyes again:

“This is what it means to be King, Arthur,-”

At first, Merlin doesn’t notice the way Arthur’s eyes fly open, nor the way he slowly sits up straight, nor the way his shoulders tighten and his skin grows pale and his eyes go vacant.

“-but I think you’re doing great, don’t be too hard on... Arthur? Are you alright?”

Merlin frowns when he finally looks up to see The King sitting ramrod straight and staring into the middle distance, his breathing ragged and his blue eyes glassy and unseeing. He stands slowly, moving around to Arthur’s side to crouch there and wave a hand in front of his face.

He doesn’t react.

Merlin shakes his shoulder slightly, hesitating only momentarily before touching him, but even then, Arthur doesn’t respond. The servant gulps, glancing over his shoulder at the door to make sure it was locked before touching a hand to Arthur’s forehead and muttering a spell; he normally uses this spell to wake up unconscious people, but it has no effect on The King other than sending a slight shiver through his body.

Merlin calls his name a few times, but it expectedly has no effect. He tries to test Arthur’s pain awareness by pinching the underside of his arm, and whilst he flinches away slightly, he doesn’t come to, still stares blankly at the opposite wall. Merlin thinks of calling for the guards and asking for Gaius, but somehow he doesn’t think the elderly physician will be able to help; there was no magic at play here, and he certainly hadn’t been poisoned. In all honestly he just looked a little zoned out, like the time Merlin had lied about the concussion, except it was clearly lasting longer this time.

Merlin frowns but tries his best to keep the panic at bay, it had only been a few minutes now, but other than breathing Arthur hadn’t moved an inch.

The servant takes a deep, relaxing breath, or at least what he hoped would be a relaxing breath. It’s not. He uses magic to slide Arthur’s chair away from the desk slightly, and moves into the space it leaves, shuffling all of the paperwork away and leaning on the edge. Once again, he puts one hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and takes his hand with the other, squeezing slightly.

He waits.

After another ten minutes or so, Arthur’s breathing gets slightly more frantic, and he begins squeezing Merlin’s hand back. Merlin moves closer, crouching in between Arthur’s legs and shaking his shoulder again, but he stops when Arthur begins muttering:

“Didn’t... I... I’m sorry. Not my.... didn’t... didn’t mean to... sorry... disappointment...”

Merlin’s frown deepens at the barely audible whispers, especially when he notices the tears gathering in Arthur’s eyes. He shakes his shoulder again and forces himself to speak, just about managing to keep the waiver from his voice:

“Arthur, there’s no one else here, it’s just you and me, it’s just us, just Arthur and Merlin. It’s the evening in late Autumn, it’s almost time for bed, you sparred with Percival this morning and had a long, annoying council meeting this afternoon. You’re sat at your desk in your chambers with me, no one else.”

Arthur’s eyes come into focus, slowly at first and then all at once. He blinks and stands suddenly, almost tipping his chair backwards in his haste as he reaches a hand to his sword-less hip. Merlin moves back quickly, grimacing as he bumps harshly into the desk. Arthur’s gaze whips around the room desperately, as if searching for a danger that he was certain was there, before his eyes finally land on Merlin. The servant holds his hands out placatingly, not relaxing even as Arthur takes a deep breath and seems to calm down.

The King slumps back in his seat, rubbing the tears from his eyes with shaking hands; Merlin crouches down again, but doesn’t dare touch him, not quite yet:

“Arthur?”

His head whips up, but he relaxes again when he sees Merlin sat in front of him:

“Yes, sorry, I... must of dozed off or something.”

Merlin frowns, but nods one, speaking slowly, his tone low and even:

“Hmm. Must’ve, you looked like you were having a nightmare or something so I woke you. Time for bed, I think.”

For once, Arthur actually agrees with him, not bothering to argue like normal as he stands on shaking legs and heads to where Merlin has neatly laid his sleeping clothes on the bed. Merlin’s concerned gaze follows him, but he doesn’t move too far from the desk, deciding that he and Gaius definitely need to have a chat about... whatever the hell that was.

Half a candle mark later, Arthur is quietly wishing his manservant a good night and dismissing him. He was obviously distracted, Merlin normally can’t be frowning for more than thirty seconds before The King is hounding him about what’s wrong, but thirty minutes pass with not a question from Arthur, and Merlin makes his way to the Physician’s Chambers hoping that Gaius is still awake.

Thankfully, the elderly physician is still pottering around, tidying away various bits and pieces and generally preparing the room for a new day tomorrow. He immediately notices Merlin’s peculiar mood and gestures for the younger man to sit opposite him at the table:

“What’s bothering you, my boy?”

Merlin sits slowly, biting his lip and trying to decide just how honest to be:

“What does it mean if someone... zones out, completely, for extended periods of time?”

Gaius raises an eyebrow:

“I’m going to need a little more than that, Merlin.”

Merlin huffs but nods, shuffling in his seat slightly but responding:

“I was with someone earlier today. We were just chatting whilst we worked and suddenly they just... weren’t there anymore. Stiff, eyes glazed over, ragged breathing. They responded slightly to pain but it didn’t snap them out of it and they just... sat there, utterly blankly, for about twenty minutes. Eventually they started muttering to themselves, but it didn’t make any sense, then they... woke up, I guess, and thought they had fallen asleep. They definitely weren’t asleep, but they weren’t... I don’t know, conscious?”

Gaius frowns but nods, clutching his hands tightly on the table as he explains, his voice grave:

“Hmm. Sounds like an extended disassociation episode. I gather that I’m not to be told who this was?-”

Merlin shakes his head slightly, and though he looks slightly annoyed, Gaius nods and continues:

“-This happens mostly to people who experience something extremely traumatic, though it also happens in victims of extended abuse, especially if the abuse was in childhood, the younger the victim, the worse the reaction. Occasionally it can happen randomly, though it’s mostly triggered by something in their surrounding environment.”

Merlin’s frown deepens, and Gaius would easily hazard a guess at saying he looks angry. He doesn’t point it out though, just waits for his ward to continue:

“What can trigger it? And what other symptoms will child abuse victims display?”

Gaius takes another deep breath, but slowly responds:

“Anything can be a trigger really, something they see or smell or hear, something someone else does or says.-”

(”This is what it means to be King, Arthur,-” pops into Merlin’s head.)

“-As for other symptoms, aversion to touch, occasionally fear of being alone, OR fear of being in another’s presence. Some experience trouble with regulating strong emotions, difficulty in regulating long term relationships, platonic or otherwise, trouble with self-esteem. It varies from person to person, there is no strict list of obvious signs. Might I ask... why?”

Merlin shakes his head and stands, moving towards his bedroom with clenched hands and tight shoulders. Just before he shuts the door behind him, he turns to look at Gaius over his shoulder, brow furrowed and voice low:

“What... what was Uther like? When Arthur was a child?”

Gaius closes his eyes briefly, letting out a weary sigh and trying his best to hold in his grief:

“Strict, extremely difficult to please. He never... he never hit Arthur, not in public anyway, though it wouldn’t surprise me if he was violent privately. As a child, The Prince was terrified of the dark, and the dungeons. I got the impression that Uther forced him down there on more than one occasion. Arthur is... the one your concerned about?”

Gaius knows the answer, but it doesn’t stop the tears from welling in his eyes when Merlin wordlessly nods before shutting the door behind him.

+1)

A few weeks have passed since Merlin had figured it all out.

He didn’t dare bring it up to Arthur, and shuts the conversation down any time Gaius mentions it. The conversation is for Arthur, and Arthur only, and Merlin wasn’t going to force it.

Besides, they’ve been extremely busy with the transitions; The Kingdom was going from anti-magic to pro-magic, and Merlin was going from servant to a member of court. Arthur had tried to force nobility onto him as well as his position as Court Sorcerer, but Merlin had put his foot down at that, insisting that he wouldn’t become some stuck up wealthy arsehole, not even if his life was on the line.

Gwaine, Elyan, Percival, Gwen, and Morgana had grinned at that, Arthur and Lancelot rolled their eyes, Mordred continued to insist on calling him “My Lord” anyway, and Leon had looked marginally affronted as he mumbled something along the lines of “I’m a Lord you know, technically.”.

They aren’t lucky this time around, and it all comes to an explosive head in a quiet, though still habited corridor in the middle of the afternoon.

Afterwards, Merlin absent-mindedly considers the fact that they could’ve been in the courtyard or the throne room or somewhere equally busy, and thanks the Gods for just this little bit of luck; only two servants, one guard, and the... the noble and his son were in the corridor at the time.

Arthur and Merlin are making their way to the council room, preparing themselves for a busy meeting: it was the first since magic was officially legalised, and the first that Merlin (and Gwen, though that was another matter entirely) would officially be sitting in on. Though, in all honesty, pretty much the whole Kingdom knew that Merlin had been advising Arthur privately for years.

Merlin frowns and Arthur stiffens slightly as they spot the noble gripping his young son’s collar and aggressively whispering at him. The boy can’t be more than ten summers old, but the tears in his eyes display his utter terror clearly enough; no child should ever have to be that scared, especially not of their parents. Merlin resigns himself to just magicking the pig’s trousers down when no one was looking his way, but barely a second after he makes that decision the man raises his hand, and slaps the boy across the face.

Everyone in the corridor freezes as the boy cries out, and the noble doesn’t seem to notice the way the guard looks frantically between him and The King, waiting for instruction, or the way the servants and Merlin were staring, horrified. Arthur breaks out of his shocked stupor first, striding towards him with his fist already raised and his eyes blazing:

“How fucking DARE you?!”

His knuckles make violent contact with the man’s mouth, and the spray of blood from a busted lip and loosened teeth is what spurs Merlin into action. He runs forward, scooping the distraught boy up in his arms and quickly handing him over to one of the servants:

“Take him to Gaius, swear that you will not utter a word of this to anyone bar the Court Physician?”

His eyes flash golden as the servants’ both nod, and they rush off in the direction of the Physician’s chambers. Merlin, satisfied that they will be unable to break their promise, turns next to the guard, momentarily ignoring the way Arthur has shoved the bleeding noble against the stone wall:

“Fetch the Lady Morgana and Guinevere and tell them to go to Gaius and the boy, stay with them, swear that you will inform no one bar those three what has happened?”

The guard nods, understanding the magic implicitly as Merlin’s eyes flash gold again. He spares The King and his deserving victim one last glance before running towards Morgana’s chambers.

Merlin turns, finally, to Arthur, almost-but-not-quite recoiling at the tears on his cheeks as he lands another punch to the noble’s jaw. His face is black and blue at this point, and Merlin pulls Arthur back just as he raises his fist again; he thrashes in his grip, but quickly sags as his breathing deepens. The noble falls to the floor, unconscious in all likelihood, and Merlin clicks his fingers, banishing him to the dungeons with nothing but a shower of golden sparks.

Arthur breathes deeply, leaning all of his weight on Merlin as he clamps his un-bruised hand over his mouth, his wide eyes staring intensely at where the boy had been stood moments before. He doesn’t respond to Merlin’s calls, and with another flash of gold, they disappear, reappearing in Arthur’s bed chamber.

Merlin shoots Mordred a quick message over their mental link as he lowers Arthur to the floor, leaning him against the edge of the bed and moving around to be crouched in front of him. The King’s breathing has gotten dangerously deep and dangerously fast, the tears streaming down his face as his hands clench and unclench around nothing. Merlin quickly intertwines their fingers in an effort to stop Arthur hurting himself, but that just freaks the other man out even more as he desperately scrambles to get away from the contact.

Merlin lets go and moves back, eyes wide and desperate as he watches Arthur bring his knees up to his chest, burying his head in his arms and rocking slightly. His cries are muffled, but Merlin can still hear the heart wrenching sound; the Warlock takes a moment to breath before he stealthily moves around the room, lighting candles, locking the door, and shutting the curtains (bar an inch), before moving back to sit beside Arthur, a foot or so of space between them.

After a few minutes of no change, Merlin starts humming. He can’t remember any of the words, but it’s an old lullaby his mum used to sing when he couldn’t sleep, when he was scared of his own magic and his own friends and every shadow that moved in the dark. Arthur’s breathing slows, though he still hiccups occasionally, and Merlin rests his hand on the stone floor between them: an offer, not a demand.

Arthur doesn’t take it, instead shuffling over to lean his head on Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin freezes, not daring to put his arm around the other man as he continues to hum; he must’ve circled back and restarted the same song six, seven, eight times before Arthur nuzzles in further and sniffs before muttering:

“You’ve a good voice, Merlin.”

Merlin huffs a gentle laugh, leaning his head on top of Arthur’s softly as he quietly replies:

“Runs in the family, my mother used to sing to me, though I don’t really know any other tunes I’m afraid.”

Arthur nods, but doesn’t reply, turning into Merlin’s chest slightly as the Warlock hesitatingly wraps his arms around the other man; he stops being so hesitant when he notices Arthur’s eagerness. Merlin pulls him close, sighing but letting Arthur settle in before he says anything. In the back of his mind, he’s aware of the pain shooting up his spine at being sat on the stone floor for so long, but he decides he doesn’t really care, if this is what Arthur needs.

After a few more minutes, he rubs his cheek into Arthur’s soft hair and speaks, his voice gentle and loving:

“Feeling better?”

Arthur stiffens slightly, but quickly relaxes, nodding into Merlin’s chest and mumbling:

“The boy?”

Merlin smiles at Arthur’s worry:

“Safe. He’s with Gaius, Morgana, and Gwen, under protective guard.”

Arthur nods again, tightening his hold on Merlin’s tunic:

“And his... father?”

“Bloodied up and locked in the dungeons, far away from his son. Mordred let the guards know that he is not to leave under any circumstances, told the council that the meeting had been postponed until further notice, and then went to relieve the guard in the Physician’s chambers.”

The King relaxes, and so does Merlin, though only slightly, he knows that this is where that terrifying conversation has opportunity to rear it’s ugly head:

“Arthur, are we going to talk about this?-”

He rushes to carry on when Arthur’s breath hitches and his hands pull on Merlin’s tunic slightly:

“-You can say no, Arthur. I swear, I will never, ever ask, not if you don’t want me to.”

Arthur doesn’t relax, but he shakes his head, gulping before replying, his voice thick:

“No, it’s fine, I should probably... talk about it, right? Morgana is always on my arse about being less repressed or whatever.-”

Merlin nods, but doesn’t say anything, stroking his fingers through Arthur’s hair rhythmically. Arthur lets out a deep breath, humming contentedly at the gesture and leaning even more into it:

“-My father was... difficult to please. His default was anger, no matter what, and it was... rare, for him to be anything but furious. He never... not in public, and never left marks where anyone could see.-”

Merlin struggles against the urge to hit someone (preferably Uther, though unfortunately he was dead. He supposes Uther’s old supporters would do in a pinch), but he makes do with taking a deep breath:

“-When he was especially furious he would lock me in a storage closet, or the dungeons. He... he would order that all the lights be put out, and all the windows covered, so I couldn’t see. Merlin I couldn’t see anything. I still... I can’t stand the dark, but I’m guess you figured that out?-”

Merlin knows that he’s referring to the candles and the perpetually open curtains and nods, humming in agreement:

“-How pathetic is that? A grown man, a King, afraid of the dark.”

Merlin tightens his grip on Arthur and shakes his head:

“It’s not pathetic, Arthur. It’s an automatic response, a defence mechanism that your brain puts in place to try and protect you from being re-traumatised. To this day, I’m terrified of fire, even though I have no reason to be anymore, even though it can’t hurt me as a Dragon Lord.”

Arthur gulps, but relaxes slightly, though his voice is quiet, almost ashamed as he continues:

“I can’t look at Lancelot’s turned back, I struggle to spar with him as well. He... he doesn’t even look anything like my father, he just... he always wears red and has the same hair as my father when he was younger and they’re the same height. Sometimes I feel like I’m a child again, everything around me just disappears and I’m back in that dungeon, or my father is stood over me screaming. How am I meant to be a good King when I’m scared of my own shadow?”

Merlin sighs, staying silent for a few minutes as he attempts to put an answer together in his mind. Arthur sniffles again, and Merlin is suddenly made aware of the wet patch where Arthur’s head rests on his tunic:

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, as many times as you want: you are a wonderful King. You’ve delivered a Golden Age upon this Kingdom, your friends love you, your people adore you. You’ve never just been a good King, Arthur, you’ve been the best this Kingdom, and this world, has ever seen.”

Arthur loosens his grip again but huffs a quiet laugh against Merlin’s chest, which the Warlock definitely counts as a win:

“Kiss-ass.”

Merlin laughs this time, though he doesn’t stop carding his fingers through Arthur’s hair:

“Nah, when have you ever known me to kiss ass? I speak only the truth, My Lord.”

They both fall silent again, and Arthur pulls away from Merlin’s chest. Merlin drops his arms immediately, not wanting to make the other man uncomfortable, but Arthur just takes one of his hands and goes back to sitting by his side, his head resting on Merlin’s shoulder. The silence is long, but comfortable, and it’s dark outside by the time Arthur speaks again:

“Merlin?-”

The Warlock doesn’t make a sound, but squeezes Arthur’s hand in acknowledgement:

“-I thanked you for all the big stuff: saving my life, and saving the Kingdom, and all that. But I never thanked you for the small stuff. The candles and the endless support and the excuses.”

Merlin frowns slightly in confusion, not that Arthur can see:

“Excuses?”

“You didn’t think I didn’t notice, did you? You started years and years ago. You always seemed to notice when being with... with my father, or the knights, or anyone really, was getting too much, you always had some excuse ready. Sometimes you outright lied, even if it would get you in trouble, just to get me away from people. I don’t know how you knew... no one else ever realised. Saying I had paperwork when I didn’t, or a patrol when I wasn’t scheduled for one, or a concussion just to give me some privacy. Thank you.”

Merlin smiles slightly, squeezing Arthur’s hand again:

“You were too busy looking after everyone else, someone had to look after you. I’m grateful it was me, Arthur, I-”

He pauses and sits up slightly straighter, though it doesn’t jostle Arthur too much. He lifts his head anyway, staring at Merlin in concern with tired eyes:

“Merlin?”

Merlin looks to him suddenly, but smiles:

“Hmm, sorry, just Mordred. Updating me on the kid and asking if you’re alright.-”

Arthur’s cheeks flush slightly, but Merlin’s smile grows as he shakes his head:

“-Don’t worry, no one knows about... this, just that you went berserk when you saw a Noble beating his kid, and punched his teeth out.”

Arthur relaxes and nods, humming thoughtfully as he looks to the floor. He stands up, wobbling only slightly after being curled up in the same position on a cold stone floor for several hours, and Merlin follows him confusedly:

“Do... do you want to go check in on them? The kid’s been asking after you apparently, wants to thank you.-”

Arthur looks conflicted, almost as if he were worrying that he wouldn’t actually be welcomed, so Merlin puts a hand on his shoulder and smiles, waiting until Arthur looks at him before continuing:

“-We can leave it until morning, if you like, but you saved that boy, Arthur, there’s nothing to worry about.”

Arthur nods, but doesn’t move until Merlin wipes his face clean with his sleeve and smooths out his clothes. If he uses a little magic to make the two of them more presentable, then neither of them mention it as they walk purposefully to the door.

Merlin looks to Arthur stood next to him, his hand hovering over the door handle:

“Ready?”

Arthur smiles at him, taking his hand and squeezing it, but not dropping it as he opens the door and steps into the corridor:

“Ready.”

THE END!!!

As angsty as it was, I really enjoyed writing that😅. I couldn’t help myself though, I had to give it a happy ending :D

I hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!! I love y’all!!

My Ko-Fi, which is where I post sneak peeks of upcoming works, check it out and consider donating!!

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apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

Text

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝟒. ♡ 𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

"Hi! I hope u have a lovely day :] I was wondering if I could request an imagine where you're online friends with Gogy and one day you send him a picture wearing his merch and he can't stop thinking about it and finally ends up telling you he has a crush on you?? Thank you in advance :] I really enjoy your writing"

pairing: georgenotfound x reader

warnings: Zoom Video Communications none :)

links: | ao3 | request | masterlist |

⋆ song recommendation: Slowly by Josh Gilligan

(streamer bf gogy brainrot brrr) hello sweet anon! thank you for much for this request :) I love love love all the geo simps and their ideas. also thank you to my dearest LB for helping me with the plot help. happy reading, everyone! ♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ

You tapped your fingers on your desk, nails clattering at you waiting to be let into your third Zoom meeting of the day. Usually, you got off with only one lecture, but because of upcoming exams, you were finding yourself in and out of virtual meetings and office hours. Sure, it was better than jogging from building to building, fighting the crowds, and searching for a seat in a packed lecture hall, but it was still wearing you down beyond belief.

You rested your chin in your hand as your window went from white to dark grey, the square with your name getting wedged in beside the professor. Everyone’s cameras were off, a thankful sigh leaving your lips as your head slumped down to lay against your arm, the danger of falling asleep suddenly becoming more prominent.

You jumped slightly as your professor cleared their throat, sharing their screen and beginning to ramble off facts listed on the slideshow. You played with your keyboard, focused on removing a crumb from beneath your spacebar that was almost unreachable. You usually took notes in the class, but today was just one of those days.

“... And with that in mind, I’m going to put you all into breakout rooms…” Your professor trailed off, eyebrows furrowed as they peered at their screen and clicked frantically to assign all of you to rooms. You yawned, smacking your cheeks and sitting up. You were determined not to be a shitty partner, at least. The white box popped up, inviting you to join breakout room four. That’s always lucky, you thought to yourself as you joined.

Once again, you were cursed to look at the buffering wheel of death as your internet struggled to sustain all your opened tabs. Please, just a little longer, you groaned internally, eyes dashing towards the receiver and exhaling in relief as your computer connected to the breakout room. You turned on your camera, eliciting your partner, George, to do the same.

You flashed him a smile as you struggled to open the article from the previous night. “Hi! How’s it going?” You greeted, not yet looking at him.

“I’m good, actually. How are you?” He engaged, his voice deep and tired.

You finally managed to split your screen enough so that you could see him and the article. “Yeah, I’m good too. Thanks,” you chewed the inside of your cheek, eyes skimming some of the notes you’d etched into the margins. “So, did you have any idea what,” you paused, squinting at the author’s name, “Robert A. Schneider means when he discusses how ‘men of letters’ fear the lower class more than anything?” You asked, as your eyes trailed across your screen to finally gauge his reaction, you were taken aback by his appearance.

His soft features and dark eyes made you feel safe. As he smiled softly, running his fingers into his hair, he seemed to be racking his brain for an answer. He opened his mouth to begin, detailing what you had previously thought with better articulation.

The two of you got through the basic questions the professor had scripted for the students, then finding yourself still stuck in the breakout room. On a normal day, your professor would have pulled everyone back into the call after the first few questions.

George swiveled in his chair quietly as he listened to you briefly explain your area of study. His kind smile made your heart flutter slightly. Deep down, you hoped the two of you would be stuck in the room for a while.

Soon your topics blended into what kind of movies you both watched, a debate on where you could buy the cheapest bread on campus, and what kind of party people the two of you were. After an hour, instead of worrying whether or not your professor was dead, you were swapping numbers and planning out how the two of you would turn the Florida Keys into the headquarters of your new cult where the members would all worship a separate bitchy philosopher.

You pulled one of your legs to your chest, resting your cheek against your knee as his laughing died out. “Okay, this might be a weird question, but I need to know why your webcam is so clear. Is it like an OnlyFans thing or…”

He chuckled. “Yeah it’s definitely OnlyFans,” he joked, making you laugh. “I’m actually a ᵐⁱⁿᵉᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐᵉʳ” he mumbled.

Your eyebrows perked playfully. “You’re a what?”

He pursed his lips to fit the grin stretching across his face. “ᵃ ᵐⁱⁿᵉᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐᵉʳ”

You snorted slightly. “Sorry darling, you’ll have to speak up. What was that?”

He wet his lips, rolling his eyes as he bashfully groaned. “I’m a Minecraft streamer.”

You giggled, him basking in your disbelief. He smiled a bit brighter as he shrugged, leaning back in his chair as you rambled off questions. “There’s no way! Nerd!” you chaffed, making him smile as if he liked it when you playfully teased him. “Are you super popular?” You asked, catching your breath.

He bit his bottom lip swaying his head slightly as if deciding not to answer. “Mmmm. Not really.”

“Well, come on, Georgios! Give me your Twitch user and I’ll be your biggest fan, I promise.” He laughed at your response, digging out his phone to send you a link.

“I’d like to see you try,” he mumbled.

After the class had finally ended, you’d learned that your professor was on the phone with their credit card company. In the following weeks, you and George were in constant contact, even becoming part of each other’s daily routines.

As you studied for finals, you’d turn on his stream, letting his voice alleviate some of the stress of your exams. He knew you were watching and would even drop hints for you in what he was saying, or he’d blatantly just ask what you were talking about in your essay for a certain class. After the stream would end, he’d call you either on Discord or the phone, just so it felt like the two of you were studying together.

Jokingly, you badgered him to send you some of his merch, threatening to buy it from a bootleg online store if he didn’t. He had only brushed it off at the time, but shortly after, you received a hoodie in the mail with his gamer tag printed across it.

It was late at night when you’d received it, the tiredness of your eyes and George’s dulcet tones lulling you towards the idea of a dead sleep. Yet, you were drawn from your pleasant relaxation with the shrilling of your doorbell. You shrugged out of your blanket cocoon, grabbing your phone and trudging down the stairs. As you tore open the bag, your phone buzzed with a text from George asking if you’d seen something that one of his chat members. You chuckled softly and dug your hand into the material, holding it out in front of you.

You snickered to yourself, running your fingers across the red patch in the center. You slipped it over your head, letting the softness of the fabric brush against your skin. You snapped a photo of yourself and stumbled back upstairs before sending it to him.

When you returned, George was focused on something he was crafting. His eyes darted down to one corner of the screen where his phone was probably sitting. His eyes flashed back up with a smug grin on his face as if he knew exactly what you were going to say. Your “Thanks sugar daddy xx,” probably didn’t help either.

“What, chat?” His voice came out slightly uneven as he bit back a smile. You skimmed what people were asking. “It’s not a nude. A friend of mine got something I sent them,” he answered nonchalantly, finishing up what he was doing. The chat began to spam quietly. “No, it’s not a maid costume. Jesus Christ.” He leaned back in his chair, grabbing his phone and opening your message.

A grin spread across his face, alongside the light dusting of rosy pigment settling in his cheeks. He chuckled to himself, quickly replying before getting back to his game. You scoffed at his response.

George (H325) Anything for my silly little baka

You curled up again, putting away your schoolwork and devoting your attention to watching his stream as you drifted off to sleep.

Once again, you found yourself at the mercy of your internet as you attempted to join the breakout room assigned to you. You almost jumped out of your chair when it finally connected and you found George waiting for you. You smiled slightly as he scrolled through his phone. “What are the chances?” You asked, pulling his eyes to you.

He grinned, clicking off whatever he was looking at. “I was just about to raid your inbox.”

You chuckled. “I almost wore your merch to class, just to out you to whoever my partner was,” you joked, making him roll his eyes.

“I’m glad it’s me then,” he responded. You began scrounging around for your article. After a beat of hesitation, George spoke up again. “Hey, I’m glad you like the sweatshirt…” You perked an eyebrow in his direction. “I actually haven’t been able to get that picture out of my head. I know it’s stupid,” he stated lightly, chuckling nervously. You could feel your heart beating in your ears. “It’s so lame, but I think I have a crush on you.”

You sat back in your chair, stunned. “I mean, the feeling’s mutual. Even if it’s lame,” you mirrored, winking at him. “I mean, maybe it’s not lame because I know I like you.”

He smiled to himself at your answer before chuckling, “Should we Zoom date or something?”

#georgenotfound headcanons #georgenotfound x y/n #georgenotfound fluff #georgenotfound x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyt fluff #mcyt imagine #college au #gnf x reader #gnf brainrot #gnf my beloved #gnf x y/n

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warmau · 3 years

Text

"his birthday is literally a month away."

kun says and you shrug your shoulders, bringing the straw of your milkshake to your lips

"you're the one who taught me it's always good to plan in advance."

"you don't need a month to plan a birthday party, plus its xiaojun - not ten - who would probably insist on a whole gala."

ten throws a look across the table but doesn't dispute this fact

you tap your fingers on your drink and set it down to mumble something about how fine, you'll do it yourself if they don't want to help

it takes two seconds for kun to give an exasperated sigh after that and agree to help you after all

you smile and tell him you knew he would, he's too much of a micromanager to refuse

ten laughs and sicheng smirks as he doesn't look up from his phone

kun gives you the same look ten gave him a minute ago

you've been friends with xiaojun for a good year now

ever since he nearly lost bella when she got off her leash at the local park and you bolted after her like any good citizen would before she could wander off into the street

xiaojun and you have gotten closer

you kind of get him in a way that not a lot of people do

his humor can be kind of dry, and he tends to be picky about certain things

you're exactly the same way so you never really get mad about it - you both have come to learn the things you dislike and like about literally everything

being friends with someone who is as particular about movie popcorn and indoor room temperatures is a blessing more than people might think

the other members see the similarities between you two and more often than not they're happy that xiaojun, who can also be kind of reserved around strangers, has found someone that makes him so comfortable

everyone in their apartment is a character from hendery to yangyang but xiaojun meshes best with you

so it's kind of no surprise that even after a short time of being friends, and most of that time spent around the others

you two start getting the off-handed "you're so alike, why don't you just date?" comments

hendery is the first person to say it after you guys spend hours playing video games together

you and xiaojun are so in sync about everything that the rest of the team feels like you guys have to be playing together when in reality you're not even in the same room

the immediate response is for you to cackle into your headset microphone and for xiaojun to let out a high-pitched, almost theatrical 'never!'

it passes over your heads and nothing changes

but then everyone seems to be saying it

"only you two can put up with each other."

"have you ever considered being more than friends?"

"oh you're 'hanging out' again or are you just actually going on a 'date'?"

the words are supposed to carry absolutely no weight

but at some point when someone says something you end up looking at xiaojun out of the corner of your eye for some kind of response that isn't just a staunch and straightforward

"never!"

it somehow also manages to get worse the month you're planning for his party in secret, both the teasing questions and your weird hope that xiaojun will one day say something different

nearly everyone knows you're trying to put this thing together but him and maybe that's why they tease

or maybe it's because xiaojun only ever seems fully himself when you're beside him

the way the tension in his shoulders falls completely to pieces when you topple over to spread out like a starfish on his sheets

the way the look of complete boerdom on his features shift around and up into a smile when you open the door holding your favorite cold drinks from the bubble tea place next door

the way xiaojun has never let someone close to him like this before - the way he lets you get cloes.

doesn't flinch when you lean over to brush an eyelash from his cheek, seems totally content with having you put a hand on his knee when you're all seated around the table and arguing over who goes next in this game of monopoly

it's a couple of days till the party and you are standing in the parking lot of the apartment building xiaojun lives in, you both have run away from the noise of his roommates

"hey, what do you want for your birthday?"

you feel hot when you ask - and it's not just because of the summer weather

xiaojun's head tilts as he says he hasn't thought about it

"actually, i'd love it if everyone got off our backs with his 'dating' crap."

dating crap

"do you hate it that much?"

"it just feels like they're taking it too seriously."

you run your tongue over your teeth and the unusual pause makes xiaojun narrow his eyes, in the evening darkness you think maybe he won't notice the confusing expression on your face but he does

"did i say something wrong?"

it's almost like he's poking at the sleeping giant question that you both are too nervous to actually ask - do we like each other in a way that's more than just friends? is everyone just pointing out the obvious?

"no, i just got lost in my thoughts for a second."

your mouth feels dry when xiaojun looks like he's going to step closer to you but doesn't

your saving grace is hendery's head popping out over the balcony and yelling for you two to get back inside before the mosquitos eat you alive

xiaojun holds the door open, but you tell him you need to go home early

that night you look at your checklist of things to do for his birthday

you've already sent out invites, you put in the order for the cake, and you got all the decorations

two things are left, pick up cake and snacks and get present

"dating crap"

you say out loud to yourself and for some reason, it hurts in your chest. you decide you'll just get xiaojun some kind of giftcard, maybe so he can buy more games.

"dude, xiaojun is like a cat."

kun says and you try to balance the cake in your hands as you two make your way to his car

it's the day of the party, kun is lugging bags of snacks and you're thankful that the cake has xiaojun's name on it spelled correctly, but something doesn't feel celebratory about all this

the excitement of making xiaojun happy has turned to anxiety ever since your talk in the parking lot

dating crap, dating crap, dating crap - did i say something wrong?

you squeeze the thought from your mind and look at kun with your brows furrowed

"what?"

"he's like a cat ok, he'll never show how much he wants something until he gets it."

it's cryptic and you tell kun you don't know what he's talking about, the cake is cold even through the bag it's in as you place it on your lap in the passenger seat

kun sighs as if he knows you're just being difficult

"sure, anyway xiaojun will be back to the apartment at seven so we should have enough time to set everything up."

at a red light, just as you're deep in mixing thoughts about xiaojun and your feelings and his feelings and how you sometimes get embarrassed seeing him walk around shirtless or eating from the same plate as him

kun goes, "by the way what did you get him as a present?

"oh a giftcard for games."

kun taps his finger against the wheel

xiaojun is actually surprised when he walks through the door and you all jump up with balloons and cheers and brightly colored party hats

he immediately looks at you in the crowd and asks

"you did this all for me?"

your heart threatens to jump up and out of your chest because he should look normal like he always does

but he's standing there with his grey t-shirt and silver chain looking like a sculpted masterpiece bestowed on you from heaven itself

god, i have it bad.

"we did it together!"

"nah it was like all them!"

hendery counters your modesty before throwing his arms around xiaojun into a half tackle hug

the party is like ... any other party

kun was kind of write, you didn't need to take a whole month to plan, but you're glad it is all going smoothly

people are enjoying the food, people are playing the usual games and chitchatting and summer is wafting in from the open balcony door

the pets are scampering around from lap to lap and someone has put on music that's upbeat but not ear piercing or distracting

xiaojun is being passed around for presidents and hugs and congratulations for another year of his life

and you are in the kitchen constantly putting new bowls of chips out, busying yourself with your hands to fight this weird churn of your stomach

xiaojun looks so handsome i could be sick. i want all of his attention but that's such a horrible thing to think - this is his party, this is literally. his. party.

someone taps your shoulder and you half expect it to be another person asking where the dip is when you turn to see xiaojun

"thank you so much"

his voice is softer than usual

"oh don't thank me, it's your birthday, it's the least i could do."

"i guess when i said i don't want a present you went with a party which is so sweet and unexpected."

the compliment goes over your head because the mention of that conversation has you thinking about it again.

dating crap. did i say something wrong - you feel cold in an apartment of packed bodies - it's like he was saying i don't like you like that. i don't love you.

"a-ah, yeah. i did also get you a present."

you fish the gift card that was put in a pretty envelope by the employee out of your pocket and hand it to him shyly

"i know it's not much-"

"no, you know me so well. you know i wanted to get all those new skins and stuff."

he's gripping the cup of soda in his hand unusually tight, you try not to notice the way it makes the veins that run up his forearm stand out

"xiaojun!"

someone's attention is needed and he disappears with a little smile. the conversation feels so stoic. it doesn't feel the way you and him talk.

and then somehow you end up in a circle on the floor with bella in your lap playing truth or dare

it's a birthday party in a huge apartment, so it's bound to reflect some of the traditions of high school

also hendery got too excited about playing it and no one wanted to say no

everyone starts off the way these things always go, embarrassing borderline comedic dares. stupid truth questions so that roommates can out other roommates for their mistakes.

you laugh a lot, you notice xiaojun keeps looking at you

then it gets to the birthday boy himself and hendery's big white grin kind of scares you

"so xiaojun, truth or dare?"

"truth"

a loud ringing of 'oooh's' plays through the walls and you swallow

"is it true..........you aren't romantically interested in your best friend?"

all eyes turn to you and then xiaojun

bella whimpers in your lap like she's sentenced the shift, she hops out and stretches before finding a corner somewhere else - you wish you could find a corner somewhere too.

xiaojun's face is unreadable, you haven't touched any alcohol all night but your vision feels fuzzy

"no. we're just super close friends."

the smile on hendery's face falls and the crescendo of your heartbreaking thumps through your ears so much that it physically hurts

someone coughs and clears their throat

you don't even register what you're doing as you're doing it, don't hear xiaojun say your name or the hard thwack of kun's hand on the back of xiaojun's shoulder

"are you insane, why would you say that when you don't mean it?"

the question floats from someone's mouth and it's not yours and you don't stick around to hear xiaojun's answer

you only navigate yourself up to your feet and out of that apartment because your body puts autopilot into flight mode

you're maybe two blocks down the street when something warm wraps its arms around you

you don't move - your eyes are fixated on the asphalt

"im so stupid, im sorry."

xiaojun's voice breaks in a way you've never heard before

"you're not stupid for not liking me back."

your voice sounds flat in a way you've never heard before too

the arms around you drop and you start to move forward again, still wanting to get away from him and everyone else

"no. i mean im stupid for lying."

you stop

"i thought you didn't want me to be interested in you like that and then kun said that's the dumbest thing he's ever heard because you obviously-"

xiaojun can't say the rest of the sentence because he's waiting for you to confirm

kun is always right about so many things, when he'd said xiaojun is like a cat, you get this is what he meant

"that i obviously am in love with you?"

you hear the sigh escape from xiaojun before you turn full around

when you do xiaojun nods, opens his arms again and you have never felt more fit for a place than when you tuck yourself into his chest and he buries his nose into your hair

"you're so bad at truth or dare"

you muffle into his shirt and he laughs, squeezing you closer

you don't mind the way you stick to each other under the glaring heat of the last summer month's hold

of course you come back to the apartment and everyone looks like they've just been saved from drowning in the titanic

the birthday party goes to a congrats-on-finally-confessing-your-feelings-you-two-idiots party

and for all the time you two spent apart that evening, you're now glued to xiaojun's side and it finally is in a way that lets your fingers brush and hold onto each other

in a way that lets him turn his head to kiss your temple when he's had enough of the conversation or argument his other roommates are in

you refuse to let him clean when the party is over - he is the birthday boy - but he does it anyway

you get some alone time on the balcony again and you kiss some more, all shy and new and tender

but xiaojun's hand finds your hip and you stammer against his mouth

you want to stay over but literally everyone is home so you peck xiaojun on the lips and he mutters we could just cuddle instead when you say goodbye at the door

the rest of august is sweeter than summer ice cream

you and xiaojun go on dates, which xiaojun is actually good at planning because he just knows you so well and he knows you are not the type of person who wants to go to fancy, uptight restaurant or even entertains the idea of seeing sappy romance movies in theaters

he knows what to order for you two before you even come over

you know what he needs when he just offhandedly mentions that he needs to get some stuff from the store

and it's like you two are connected by something more than just a physical need for the other, it's like your souls have been intertwined and your minds too

you do finally get to come over when the rest of the members are out practicing or hanging out with other people

and you check the door to the room is locked about six times before xiaojun has to rope you into his arms with his pretty lips

before scuttling out from under the covers to check the lock himself too

it makes you laugh, he laughs too, you two kiss and you think you can only remember xiaojun's taste for hours after

no one, not even strangers, seem surprised by you being together as they learn it

an older woman at the beach says you and him just look like puzzle pieces that have found each other, she says she sees happiness in your futures

and it is all happiness - from that birthday to this one - almost ten years later

xiaojun knows you're planning a party, you always do like it's a tradition, so you can't call it a surprise anymore

but he promises to act shocked when he comes through the door anyway

"is this shocked face good enough?"

he asks, putting his hands on his cheeks and opening his mouth

age has treated him so well, he's still got the absolute best cheekbones you've ever seen in your life

you giggle and clamber over onto the sofa where he is

"no, no - more oomf!"

he tries again and then reaches out to pull you into him, you kiss his nose and he scrunches it up

"how about i just jump up and go 'no way!' or something?"

"xiaojun you're not twenty anymore."

he pouts, "fine. ill think of something."

"by the way what do you want as a present?"

you look into his eyes and the browns soften as they reflect the image of you, the person he's sworn to love for the rest of his life

he shrugs - says he got the best present of all time already

"you said that last ye-"

"and it's true, you're the only thing ive ever wanted so badly i was just too dumb of a guy to ask for it."

your hands are warm on his chest

"that's ok, you still got it in the end."

#ok......ok. so now i actually only have three neos left #*strikes a pose* i love this concept i could write 54387928 of these #wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv au #xiaojun scenarios #xiaojun au #xiaojun #xiaojun x reader #nostolgic!au #nct imagines #nct au #nct scenarios

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hyunsuks-beanie · 3 years

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It'll Always Be You

Lee Felix × reader; angst, but with a fluffy ending; 2923 words; lovers to exes and back

A/N So Felix has me feeling all sorts of things today, bc of how good he looked during the performance. So here's a scenario for our Sunshine!

"Here's your order and have a nice day," you smile to the female customer in front of you, before handing a pack of cookies to her child. Once the leave, you let out a sigh and look at your best friend who's cleaning the counter next to you. "All done for today!," you exclaim, to which your friend looks up and smiles, before taking off and folding her apron. "So, what are your plans for tonight?," she asks, making you give her a knowing look. She to her eyes before saying, "How long are you gonna stay cooped up inside your house? The break up was two years ago for heaven's sake, you need to start living your life again." "Hey, I am living my life, it's just that, unlike you, I am not interested in going out and meeting new people every day. I meet enough strangers while working here, so there's no need to go clubbing daily," you shrug.

When all she does in reply is pout, you chuckle and say, "Okay, how about we go for a movie tomorrow? My treat." Her face lights up at that, and she gives you a tight hug before saying, "I really want to meet your ex once though, just so I can break his nose." You giggle "Oh he's dead and gone."

Oh, if only you knew.

Once you send your friend off, you start tidying up your little bakery up. This was the place that helped you get over your breakup, which had been messy to say the least. You had immersed yourself fully in your work, because you knew it was one thing that would never hurt you or break your trust.

You sigh lovingly at the memories of setting up and running your bakery, turning your back against the front door. And just as you are reminiscing you hear the door open, causing you to turn. The moment you do so, however, you regret it, because standing there, staring at you wide-eyed, is your ex, otherwise known as Stray Kids' Lee Felix. You both continue to stare at each other for a while, before he finally breaks the silence (and your trance) by whispering, "Y/N."

You clear your throat, and say, "I'm sorry, but we're closed for the day." He rushes to the and hurriedly replies, "Please, it's rather urgent. My friend Hyunjin is really craving some blueberry pie, and he refuses fo join practice before I bring him what he wants." "I told you, I'm sorry, but I can't help you today. You can come back tomorrow though," you say, not looking into his eyes. "Please Y/N, Chan hyung is getting really angry, he's gonna ground me along with Hyunjin," Felix reasons, and you find yourself giving in to his pleading eyes and pouty lips.

"Fine, wait a minute," you say, making him crack a smile. Boy have you missed that smile of his, you think, before mentally slapping yourself for still not being able to resist him, even though he broke your heart to pieces when he broke up with you over the phone two years ago, telling you that he could no longer do long distance with you being all the way in Australia. It wasn't the breakup that hurt you though, it was the fact that he had found someone better and closer to him, or so he said.

Little did you know, though, that the company had he had never really found anyone else, that he didn't want to find anyone else. The company had made him lie to you when they came to know he was secretly dating. He tried to put up a fight, but the company started threatening him about the group facing consequences. He knew you'd see right through him if he told you the truth, so he had to lie to you in order to make you hate him, just so you could move on in life. He meant well, but he never knew he hurt you so bad that you'd give up on dating and love altogether.

"Here you go," you say while handing him his parcel. He thanks you, while contemplating if he should make small talk. Mustering up the courage, he asks, "How have you been?", while looking down. "Fine," you reply, "Congrats on the comeback." His head snaps up at that, as he says, "I didn't know you knew I had a comeback," "It was all over the news, Felix. Stray Kids are really making it big," you swallow before adding, "Your partner must be really proud of you," complete with a fake smile plastered on your face.

Felix winces at your words, not knowing what to say. In the end, he settles with, "How long have you been running this bakery?" "Since about a month after we broke up." When he gives you a confused expression, you sigh and add, "I was kinda already about to move to Seoul when you told me that you had found someone else. I was gonna surprise you, but you ended up surprising me instead."

"Y/N, I-I never knew. I'm so sorry, I-," he says, but you cut him off. "I-I t-think you should leave," you say, with tears threatening to spill. "Let me explain, please. I swear I'll come clean, please, just give me a chance." "No Felix, I can't give you any chance, you blew it up when you hurt me so bad that it made scared of ever loving again. Please.....j-just go," you say, shutting your eyes close. Dejected, he turns around to leave, but not before saying, "I'm sorry," one more time. Once he leaves, you sink down to the floor, crying. "Why did you have to ruin me so bad?," You whisper.

You don't, however, notice that just outside the door, Felix too, is crying hysterically as he gets into his car.

Upon reaching the JYP building, Felix rushes to the washroom to try and dry his eyes and hide any signs that he's been crying. "I still love you. I never stopped, but gosh, why did I have to be such an idiot to let you go? And that too, in the worst way possible?," he says to his reflection in the mirror, thinking back to your broken expression. Slamming his fist against the sink, he curses at himself.

Once he's finally sobered up a little, Felix goes back to the practice room to give Hyunjin his pie. Though he has half a mind to just call in sick and go home and weep, he knows the group needs him. "Here you go, Hyun," he forces a smile onto his face when Hyunjin thanks him. Chan notices his slumped shoulders, but shrugs it off as tiredness. "Now that everyone is satisfied, can we get back to practice?," he asks. Once all the boys agree, rehearsals begin again, but Felix can't find it in himself to focus. He keeps making mistakes, which finally results in Chan stopping the music, grabbing his hand, and taking him out the practice room and to his studio.

"What is it, Lix? You've been distracted ever since you came back from the bakery. Come on, I know something is bothering you, it isn't like you to lose focus. Tell me what it is," Chan says, sternly but gently, his concern for the younger boy evident. "It's nothing, hyung. I'm just tired," Felix tries to evade the question, but Chan presses on. "I'm not buying that, and I'm not gonna have you distracted during performances or practices, either. I can't risk you injuring yourself or any of the boys, so I'm saying again. Spit. It. Out. Leader's orders."

Felix sighs, running a hand through his hair. After a pause, he finally says, "I saw Y/N today. The bakery, it is owned by them." Chan's eyes go wide at this, since he's the only one who knows the circumstances under which you both broke up, and is also the only one who knows about how much Felix regrets letting you go, in the worst possible way. "What happened? Were they....rude to you? Or did they do something?" "What? No hyung, they were nothing but nice to me. We made small talk, and they told me that they were planning to surprise me by moving to Seoul, when I broke up with them. I hurt them so bad that they are scared of ever loving again," Felix says, taking shaky breaths between sentences as tears welled up in his eyes again.

"I messed up so bad hyung, you know I still love them. They're the nicest, most perfect, most lovable person I've ever known, and I damaged them so badly, gosh I feel so guilty," he breaks down again, causing Chan to wrap his arms around him, giving him a shoulder to cry on. Once Felix calms down, Chan says, "You know what you have to do now, right?" "What do you mean?"

"You say you still love them. You say you're guilty. But instead of telling these things to me, you need to tell this to them. Apologize to them, tell them the whole story. Tell them there was never anyone else, and that it's always been them. You didn't fight for them back then, because you were worried for us. But you can fight for them now, because we got your back. Win them back, Lix. Make up for your mistake."

"B-but hyung, why would they ever want to take me back again? I've been nothing but a jerk to them." "Well, in that case, you can't blame them. But they deserve to at least know the truth. They deserve to know that your intentions were not wrong. If they choose to walk away after that, they will at least have had gotten closure. Who knows, it might help them muster the courage to go out and love again. You owe this to them, Lix."

Chan succeeded in knocking some sense into Felix, as the next day, the younger boy found himself in front of your bakery, preparing a long speech explaining why he did what he did to you. He's so engrossed in his thoughts that he doesn't notice your best friend walk out the bakery and stand next to him. "Uhm, are you okay?," she asks, surprising him. "O-oh, uh-uhm, yeah," says Felix, while noticing her uniform, that's identical to yours. "Do you work with Y/N?" "Yeah, we're friends and partners, and on most days, we work together. But they called in sick today, and told me they'd cover the evening shift. How do you know them though?"

To this, Felix finds himself at a loss for words, but he figures if he's gonna come clean to you, he needs an ally. And what better person than your best friend? So he takes down his mask slightly, making your friend gasp in response. "You Felix from Stray Kids! What are you doing here?" "I-I came here to meet Y/N. We broke up two years ago due to a mistake I made, but I need to explain things to them. They deserve to know the truth." He looks up to see your friend glaring at him, as she says, "That was you? You broke my best friend's heart? How could you? I'm not letting you anywhere near them, you jerk"

"Please, just give me 5 minutes, and I'll explain everything to you. Then you can decide if I deserve one more chance." When your friend doesn't say anything, Felix launches into his own version of things, explaining himself and his actions. Once he's done, your friend is still glaring at him, but he notices a smile tugging at her lips.

"You have been nothing but a complete and utter jerk to them. And honestly, you deserve to get your ass kicked by them. But I know that they still love you, and the way you are repenting what you did tells me that you love them too. So I give you my blessing. They'll be here in the evening at 6, be here before then." Felix hugs her super tight at that, with the biggest smile plastered on his face while thanking her. She adds, "But if you hurt them again, I swear I'm gonna murder you with my own two hands." "It won't come to that, I promise."

Felix arrives at the bakery at 10 minutes to six, and the moment he enters, your friend shoves him into the kitchen, asking him to stay there till you come. Once she leaves, he starts pacing up and down, raking his hand nervously through his hair. He tries to prepare what he is going to say, but gives up when he realizes that it would all go out the window when he sees you.

Meanwhile, the moment you step inside the bakery, your friend pretends to be busy setting stuff up on the counter, and asks you to bring in some things from the kitchen. Unassuming, you start walking towards the kitchen doors, when she notices your swollen eyes and exclaimed "Babe, have you been crying?" You muster up a fake smile and tell him that it's just you not feeling well, but unknown to you, Felix heard your friend, and guilt washes over him again. But he doesn't have time to wallow in it, as soon after, you step in.

The way your expression morphs into one of pure sadness breaks his heart into a million pieces, and when you say, "What more do you want from me?" while holding back tears, it takes everything in him to stop from falling to his knees and begging forgiveness. He tries to speak, but you hold up a finger, indicating you aren't finished. "Now that you've found me again, was it not enough for you to have me admit that what you did to me made me stop believing in love? Do you even want to rub it in my face by telling me how happy your are with your partner? If that is so, then please, just get lost, I'm begging you."

Tears are now streaming down your face, and Felix finds himself saying, "Just please. Let me explain. You deserve to know the truth and my feelings and intentions. If after that, you want me to leave, I swear, you will never have to see me again." You can't look at him, but when you don't reply, he says, "I promise that this is the real truth behind what I did. Please hear me out. I lied when I said I had found someone else. There is no 'someone else,' and there never will be one. The only person I've loved, the only person I still love, is you. It'll always be you."

"The company made me break up with you, and threatened me that the group will face consequences if I didn't do as they had asked. I that that if I outright told you the real reason, it would hurt you. And so, I decided to lie to you in order to make you hate me, even if it broke my heart. But never did I ever think that it would damage you so badly, and I know I've been stupid, but I can't help but ask for you to forgive me, and give me one last chance. I know I've been a total jerk to you, and even now, I'm being nothing but selfish, but I just want you to know that I still love you. I'll understand if you want nothing to do with me, and I'll walk away forever. But you deserved to get closure, and I hope that if you do choose to give up on me, you will now be able to love again, and trust again."

By the time he stops talking, the both of you are sobbing hard. You ask him, "Are you done?" When he nods, you say, "You say that you will walk away if I choose to give up on you. But do you really think I'll be able to give up on you? If I couldn't stop loving you even when you broke up with me in the cruelest way possible, what makes you think I'll stop loving you now that I know that you went through the same pain as me? You knew what the truth was, and you still had to hide it. I can only imagine how hurtful that must have been, Felix. I hate myself for believing your stupid lie, for ever doubting the love you had for me. I'm sorry, and I forgive you."

Felix looks up at you, surprised. It takes him some time to process your words, and when he does, he asks you, "What does that mean....for us?" To this, you shyly reply, "Well, I never stopped loving you, and if you didn't either, then should we give us another try?" Felix smiles the brightest he has in ages, as he slowly comes closer to you. Cupping your face, he wipes off your tears, as you proceed to do the same. "I promise I'll never let you go again," he says softly. You giggle and say, "You'd do well to keep that promise," before biting your lip.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?," he asks. You nod in response, causing him to gently place his lips on yours. And for the first time in a while, you feel like you're home.

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troubatrain · 3 years

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good for you - t. jost

a/n: one day it dawned at me that tyson jost really had just been hitting different lately, and so i just needed to write some filth about it. i'm thinking of making this a smut based mini series so let me know what you guys think :)

part two

warnings: it's smush time (smut)

I can’t believe you’re leaving me like this.

Mat Barzal was pouting, laying across your bedroom in your apartment whining about how you were heading off to Colorado and leaving him. It wasn’t by choice, you’d gotten into a grad program that was an amazing opportunity, separating you and your childhood best friend for the first time in ages. Mat was your friend by accident, a kid was picking on him and you got mad because only you’re allowed to do that and punched that kid square in the nose. Mat covered for you so you wouldn’t get suspended and you’d been inseparable ever since.

“This place is going to be too quiet without you,” Mat whines, dodging the book you’d thrown in his direction, “And not that I keep you to clean up after me but I do need you to teach me how to use the dishwasher.”

“How about you help me pack then?” You suggest, rolling your eyes at his inability to take care of himself. He’d always been like that, his own mother relieved when you moved in because it eased her worries about Mat burning his place down.

“You should give Tyson a call,” Mat hops up, grabbing a box and some stuff off your shelf, “Sure he’d be able to show you around.”

“Tyson Jost?” You furrow your brows, trying to clarify exactly who Mat was talking about. There wasn’t anything wrong with Tyson, that was the problem. Tyson was like sunshine in the summer and in another life, he’d be your dream man. He was kind and the way he talked about his mother made every one of your girlfriends swoon. Tyson had the kind of drive you respected and he just seemed so steady, “I thought we agreed I’d break him.”

“You agreed with yourself on that one not me,” Mat chuckles, shaking his head at your response. Mat couldn’t think of any one of his friends that he’d let date you besides Tyson. Tyson was an astronomically better person than Mat was, always the kind of kid his parents encouraged him to hang out with, “What if Tyson’s the best dick of your life and you don’t even give him a shot?”

“I’m not sleeping with Tyson, he’s too innocent,” It wasn’t an excuse, it was the truth. Everything about Tyson screamed that he’d get you off but it wouldn’t be all that exciting. Tyson was a relationship type, and you weren’t and aside from the obvious sexual incompatibility - he was Mat’s friend. Despite his efforts, you always swore that was a line you’d never cross. Besides, as kind and endearing as Tyson was, he was still a hockey player, he just got away with it better than most.

“Just promise me you’ll call him? Especially if something’s wrong,” Mat pleads, a soft expression on his face even if it was just for a second before you had a t-shirt tossed in your direction, “You can’t let him replace me though, I’m number one around here.”

“I cannot wait to live alone,” You tease, laughing when Mat’s middle finger is thrown in your direction. It was bittersweet, leaving the comfort of having Mat around to buy you ice cream when you were sad and to take care of his best friend duties and onto a new adventure.

“You won’t be alone Josty will be there,” Mat jokes, his laugh bouncing off the now barren walls of your bedroom, “I swear I’m done now.”

“You better be.”

“I give it two weeks before you fuck Josty though.”

***

Just swing by her place, please.

Mat was like a mother who just sent their first kid away for college, and he was panicking. So, yes, he was begging Tyson to just drop in on to make sure your move was going as smoothly as you made it sound on the phone. Tyson could have been doing anything else on a Friday night with no game, but he was getting closer and closer to giving in by the second.

Tyson could admit, he wanted to see you, and he was excited when Mat shared the news you were moving to Denver. He looked forward to seeing you in the summer, carefree and light and so far out of his league he’d never even try. You made Tyson fumble his words, and every time he saw you he would think with his dick and he couldn’t focus on anything else. Above all else, Tyson wanted you to know he was a phone call away, a promise he made to Mat that he’d be there if you needed anything that he was going to keep for his own selfish reasons.

So Tyson was off to your apartment, a bottle of wine in one hand and a case of Coors Light in the other. He lifted his hand to knock, taking a deep breath and just thinking to himself, don’t fuck this up.

You knew that familiar tuft of curls in your peephole anywhere, summers spent watching the way Tyson’s curls bounced against his forehead whenever he spoke. This had Mat written all over it, no doubt your best friend put Tyson up to his welcoming committee bit. You turn around, boxes piled everywhere with nothing set up in your place aside from your mattress in the middle of the floor and your tv in your living room. Unpacking had been a bit overwhelming, and you may have lied on the phone to Mat that you were doing just fine. You take one deep breath, holding your head up high and pretending like your place wasn’t a mess.

“Hi,” You smile, leaning against your doorframe and taking in the man in front of you. Did he get bigger? Maybe it’s the hair, it’s longer. No, the scruff. Whatever it was, your feet were glued to the floor because you were stunned by the fact that Tyson Jost had gotten hot.

“Welcome,” Tyson cheeses, holding up the beer and wine in his hands and shrugging his shoulders, “I hope it’s fine I stopped by, Mat called and-”

“Told you to come?” You finished his sentence, Tyson nodding at your question, “Well, I have no furniture because it won’t be here until tomorrow, but you’re more than welcome to come join in my sad empty apartment.”

“I’d love to,” Tyson chuckles, bumping his shoulder with yours when he walked into your place. It was definitely empty, Tyson wishing he’d known sooner you’d be without most of your stuff for another day so he could offer up his guest room. It didn’t matter to him, his mind focused more on the fact that you looked incredible, a too big Islanders shirt and a pair of shorts that were leaving little to the eye. You were digging through a box, a small aha leaving your mouth when you pulled out a mug, “Wine in a mug?”

“That’s how Mat used to pour me glasses when we first moved in together,” You admit, gripping the mug in your hand tightly. You may have stolen it from your former kitchen, but it was a memory you wanted to remember, “You can sit, I mean the only place is on my mattress but-”

“Sounds like a tradition then,” Tyson hums, sitting down and leaning against your pillows, taking a sip of his beer. You sat cross legged next to him, pouring yourself some of the wine he’d brought over in that silly I <3 New York mug Mat bought for your first place. You settled on a movie, thankful you at least had wi-fi and didn’t have to make awkward conversation with Tyson.

It’s only awkward because you’re making it awkward, you thought to yourself. Maybe Tyson was doing it on purpose, peacocking around your apartment because Mat told him he had this weird thing about you sleeping with him. He wouldn’t do that, remembering every other time Tyson’s ignored one of Mat’s grand schemes because they were bad ideas, “Excited for the season to start? A few more weeks right?”

“I’m excited for camp to be over,” Tyson groans, snuggling himself into

your mattress, “My entire body’s on fire.”

Yeah mine too. You watched the way Tyson rolled his shoulders, clear pain across his face, “Ty’s let me-”

You were usually bold, confident enough to make the first move without the fear of rejection. It could be from years of watching Mat, a true master at his craft of picking up women, and constantly encouraging you to do the same. That’s how a player plays the game Y/N. Tyson’s brows were raised at you, a blush on his neck while he let himself sit a bit. You slipped your fingers under the soft cotton of his t-shirt, digging them into the knots in his shoulder. Tyson let his eyes rest, embracing the relief you were giving him.

Of course your fingers felt like magic. Tyson was doing everything in his power to keep his cool, and not blow this one chance he’s had with you without Mat’s stupid antics in the middle of it. Just ask her out, she’ll probably reject you, but at least you’ll get laid. Mat was right, he had to be because he knew you better than anyone. It wasn’t just some claim he made either, you didn’t do relationships, never giving your heart to someone else, “How are you good at this?”

“Tito used to tell me I had a career in deep tissue massages in my future,” You joke, Tyson’s head falling back to look at you while he let out a laugh, “Sometimes I think he just wanted to save a trip to the rink…do you mind if I-?”

You were tugging at Tyson’s shirt, waiting for him to nod in response and grab it from the back and toss it off. You never took the time to look at Tyson like this, eyes scanning over his skin and taking him in. Scars on his skin, no doubt from his choice in sport and one from that time Mat took roughhousing too far over the summer. Your finger curled around a loose curl at the base of his neck, Tyson letting out a hum, “I like the curls grown out Tys.”

“Keep pulling on them,” Tyson grunts, the words falling through his lips before he could stop them. You let out a small giggle, Tyson thanking his lucky stars you didn’t just hit him. He turned around, a glimmer in his eyes that you’d seen dozens of times before. Your hand stayed in his hair, gripping his hair softly when Tyson’s lips finally landed on yours. It was slow at first, testing out the waters and Tyson waiting for the blow of rejection. His hand was on your waist, hand slipping under your shirt and rubbing your skin softly. His lips moved down your neck, scruff tickling your skin, “Been wanting this for a while…”

“Yeah?” You muse, tilting your head back while Tyson’s teeth sunk into them. His grip got tighter, your breath hitching in your throat.

“If you don’t count the years I spent wondering what the fuck you and Mat were, then every summer for the past four years,” Tyson’s eyes had gotten a shade darker, flipping you over so you were underneath him, “Don’t act like you don’t know you’re hot, or that I’ve been mentally undressing you for years.”

“Now’s your chance Tys, don’t blow it,” You chirp, waiting for Tyson’s laugh to follow, except it didn’t. Tyson’s hands pulled yours over your head, grip tight on your wrists. What if Tyson’s the best dick of your life and you don’t even give him a shot. Mat’s words were spinning your head, taunting you because there was a chance he was actually right.

“Don’t move them,” Tyson grits, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands pulled your shirt off slowly, stifling a groan when his suspicions about your lack of bra were true, “Be a good girl-”

“Or what?” You smirk, wondering how many buttons you could press before Tyson just railed you. This was new, welcome, and maybe you shouldn’t have assumed Tyson was the boring type behind closed doors.

“Or I’ll fuck you until you’re begging to cum, but I still won’t let you,” Tyson mutters, his lips pressed against your skin while his fingers hooked under your shorts, “So are you going to be good for me?”

Tyson waited for your answer, gaining himself a plus one in your book on consent and when you nodded, your shorts and panties came clean off. Tyson hooked your thighs over his shoulders and pressed a kiss to your clit lightly, “Don’t tease Tys.”

“Am I the first person who gets you like this?” Tyson groans, watching the way your hips were squirming every light kiss he pressed around your pussy. You were an alpha female, Mat’s words, never Tyson’s, and that meant that under most circumstances you were in charge.

“Yes,” You whimper, desperate for some sort of relief. Tyson had you wound up, in a position you were used to being in and you were eating up every bit of it. He finally gave in, Tyson’s well skilled tongue swirling around your clit, pulling a moan out of you that echoed through your empty apartment. You clasped your hands together, taking every bit of strength you had not to tug on Tyson’s curls, “Fuck, Tyson let me touch you.”

“Not what we agreed to, princess,” Tyson reminds you, his tongue teasing your entrance while his nose rubbed against your clit. His tongue slid up your folds, Tyson climbing back up your body and letting his spit slide down his tongue and into your mouth, “Taste yourself babe.”

You nod, obliging happily with Tyson, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head at how fucking hot this was. His lips landed on yours, reminding you just how good you were being against your mouth. Tyson’s hand grabbed one of yours, intertwining your fingers with his, “Tyson, please I wanna cum so badly.”

“Where?” Tyson hums, sucking at your skin, undoubtedly leaving you a little gift to cover up for your first day of class.

“On your cock,” You bat your eyelashes, playing into Tyson’s game because you needed some release, “All over it, please-”

Tyson kicked off his boxers, taking his own cock in his hand and pumping it a few times. He tapped your clit the head, smirking when you moaned underneath him. This was better than he imagined, all of those unwanted dirty dreams about you that seemed to be more frequent over the summer. You let your free hand move, Tyson’s head thrown back when you lined his dick up your core, guiding him inside of you, “God, you feel so fucking good.”

Tyson dropped your hand, both of his large hands gripped your hips tightly while he slammed into you. Your legs with shaking from pleasure, “Fuck, right there, please I’m so close-”

Tyson wrapped one of your legs around his waist, hitting you deeper. His arms were on both sides of your head, his lips pressed up against your ears when he spoke, “Cum for me princess.”

Tyson’s deep groans sent you over the edge, your pussy fluttering around his cock while he fucked you through your orgasm. His lips parted, hips sputtering when he pulled out and came all over your stomach with a loud fuck. You both fell silent, the realization that you broke your own rule about Mat’s stupid friends washing over you. It wasn’t regret, it was something you couldn’t quite explain. Tyson finally fell next to you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, letting his light kisses trail down your shoulder, “Let me get the shower ready for you.”

You nod, letting your eyes follow Tyson’s ass as he wandered through your place in search of your bathroom. An aftercare king too? Maybe you were biting off more than even you could chew with this one. You grab your phone, rolling your eyes at Mat’s unanswered texts complaining that you’d already replaced him with Tyson. Your fingers dance across the screen, typing up the text you’d been meaning to send since Tyson was at your front door.

You could’ve warned me Tyson got hot, you know?

You didn’t even last two weeks did you?

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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hyukmoon · 3 years

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moon. | l.sy x gn!reader

lee sangyeon x gn!reader

word count: about 4.01k

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

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

taglist: @loki-in-hogwarts

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You could’ve told me. I would’ve-.”

“Broken up with her?”

“No, I-.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, I’ll be there.”

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

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

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

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ultralovedeluxe · 3 years

Text

Yandere! Jotaro Kujo with prompts #25 and #31

Hey everyone this was requested by @mirroredmovements. I struggled with which Jotaro you meant, but I ended up settling with Stardust Jotaro (I hope that’s okay!). I also added an additional prompt, just for fun ^^

‘Why won’t you talk to me anymore?’

‘You’re the only one who understands me’

Warnings: 18 year old Jotaro, kind of au?, yandere behavior, mentions of violence, implied nsfw.

The definition of loneliness is the state of being alone, and feeling sad about it.

However, why is Kujo Jotaro experiencing this emotion of all people? He has nothing to be upset about. He’s financially stable, has a caring mother, and most importantly he does have friends (although only one of them is closer to his age range). So why is he feeling this way?

He could always try to make new friends, but he’s already feared amongst his school (and the fact he dislikes people isn’t helping much either). He couldn’t meet new people, even if he wanted to. The male students would probably only want to be friends with him because of his status, and the females, well they already annoy him as fan-girls, having them as friends would be worse.

That is, until Kakyoin introduces you to him.

“Good afternoon Jotaro, how was class?” the fellow red-headed stand user asked. “I didn’t go to class today..” the taller male replied, his eyes going directly towards the person next to Kakyoin. He’d never seen you around before, were you a new student or something, because if you were he didn’t have time to show you around. Kakyoin sighed, “I thought we talked about this before Jotaro, it’s important for you to go to class and..”, Kakyoin noticed Jotaro staring at you; and to be completely honest his stare was starting to freak you out a bit. Kakyoin coughed and placed a hand on your shoulder, “Jotaro this is [first]-chan, I met her in art class a few weeks ago, and I wanted you two to meet”.

“Nice to meet you Kujo-san, I hope we become good friends” you smiled, sticking your hand out to greet him. Jotaro stared at you for a bit and then looked at your hand, “Nice to meet you too I guess..” he said walking away from the two of you without looking back. He trusted Kakyoin’s judgement of people, but at the moment he didn’t want to waste his time here.

“I think that went well, usually he doesn’t even greet the other person at all..” Kakyoin whispered as he began to walk the opposite direction. You began to follow him, “I guess. Do you think I made a good first impression? He doesn’t look like he likes people very much..” you admitted while giving your hands a firm squeeze. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you two will get along..”

Jotaro didn’t expect to become friends with you, let alone be good friends with you. When he first met you, he found you to be kind of annoying. He didn’t want to waste his time with you. Just because you were a friend of Kakyoin’s, didn’t mean he considered you a friend. But for some reason, he found himself growing attached to you. It was odd for him to be open with his feelings about things, but whenever he was with you it never felt that way. Whenever he’d talk with you or open up about things, you would just look at him and listen, without judging him at all.

You occasionally gave him advice, but most of the time you’d listen to what he had to say. From his thoughts about becoming a marine biologist one day, and anything really, you’d be there to listen.

This warmed Jotaro’s heart to the core, and he found himself falling for you. He really didn’t expect it, but he welcomed this feeling regardless. He’d tell you eventually, but now was not the time.

“Jotaro-kun!"

Even your voice had become music to Jotaro’s ears. He always prefered hanging out with quiet people, however you became an exeption. He began to look forward to hearing your voice.

Jotaro hummed in response, looking over to see your face. You gave him a small smile in return, “Look what I brought you! I remember you said you didn’t have any marine biology books at home, so I went to buy you one!” you grinned handing the tall male the book. Jotaro took the book and lowered his hat to cover the smile forming on his face. “Yare yare [first], you didn’t have to, I could’ve just gone to the library”

“But I wanted to! Besides, checking out a book isn’t the same as owning one now is it?” you replied, sitting down on the grass to take a small break. Jotaro huffed, “Jeez woman, it seems you’re the only one who gets me. You understand me y’know?”. You only smiled back and lightly punched his shoulder, “Wow Jojo, you’re really sweet. Didn’t think I’d hear those words from you..”

That was the first time you had used his nickname. Jotaro would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a chill go up his spine (in a good way of course). Unfortunately, these warm, fuzzy feeling vanished too soon.

“Ah Jojo, do you know what time is it?” you asked, almost frantacally so. The taller male wondered how you manged to freak out so suddently, “It should be around 4:30..”

“4:30? I’m late for my date! I hope he’s still waiting for me..” you said packing your bags in a hurry, ignoring Jotaro’s precense. “You’re going on a date? Who’s the lucky man?” Jotaro asked, trying his best not to just storm off in rage and jealousy. You just looked up at him, so innocently, like nothing you had said hurt him in the slightest, “Yeah a date with Ishii Yuuto. I haven’t met him, but he is really cute..Wish me luck Jojo-kun!” and with that you had already left. A date? You had a date? With someone who wasn’t him? Someone had already captured your heart and asked you out? He wanted to be happy for you, he wanted to support you, just like how you are supportive of him. But he can’t, and the feeling is eating him from the inside.

It could’ve been you and him on that date. But maybe, just maybe, he could still go on a date with you after all. And he felt more of his patience chip away..

The small cafe your classmate chose was adorable and pleasing to see. The warm colors greeted you nicely, and you had heard from a friend that this cafe serves some of the best sweets in Japan. Although you had never met Yuuto, you were exited that someone had invited you to a place like this, let alone being invited to a nice place by someone you found attractive. Then again, it seemed like it was too good to be true. You had been in a rush all day. You managed to go to a book store and buy a book for Jotaro, go back to school to meet Jotaro, and then go to this cafe. But your date didn’t seem to even be here.

“Great. This is fine” you mumbled to yourself as you paid for your drink. How upsetting, you actually thought Yuuto was a nice guy, guess he turned out to be the comeplete opposite of what you originally thought.

Walking out of the cute atmosphere from the cafe, you were met with an unfortunate sight. Not far from the cafe, was Jotaro standing over from what seemed to be Yuuto, but he was covered in bruises. You let out a small whimper, but quickly covered your mouth. Once Jotaro’s eyes met yours, you couldn’t stand being in his sight no longer. You started to run home, it wasn’t that far anyway, your parents were most likely home, you would be safe and sound; you just needed to run a little faster.

‘Was that really Jotaro?’ you thought finally reaching your home in time. There was no doubt about it. That man that stood above Yuuto was indeed Jotaro. You just wished this was all a dream, that it wasn’t true, but there was no denying what you saw was true.

Jotaro watched you run, letting out a small ‘tch’ while kicking the unconscious body of Yuuto. He didn’t kill him (but he was on the verge of), he just injured him a bit, that’s all. Deep down, Jotaro was dissapointed in himself, but at the same time, he only did this because he cares for you right?

At least that’s what he’s telling himself.

“[first]-chan did you hear about Ishii-san yesterday?” your classmate asked you. You avoided eye contact with her, “No. I don’t know what happend at all” you replied, trying not bring tears to your eyes. “I heard from the police officers that he was found beat up not far from where you were supposed to meet him. They said he is going to be in the hospital for a month. Did you see anything?” she asked, clearly asking questions that were getting more personal by the second. Images of Yuuto’s bruised body ran thorugh your mind, “I didn’t see anything. I just went home and that’s it. I have to go”.

You walked out of your classroom and began to walk to a bathroom nearby. These thoughts were going to haunt you, and you tried to get rid of them, you’re really trying. But you’re starting to get convinced that won’t happen, because just a few seconds into your walk, Jotaro was walking behind you. ‘No..no he’s not supposed to be here anyway! Just keep calm and keep walking you’re almost there’ you thought, but you started walking faster. Jotaro noticed this and caught up with you real quick.

“Yare yare why do you keep running? Why won’t you talk to me anymore?” Jotaro asked you, as if he didn’t know what he had done; making it seem like you were the crazy one. You walked farther, but Jotaro just kept catching up with you. This time however, he held your hands behind your back. You hissed in pain, you always knew he was strong, but never in your life did you think he’d lay a hand on you.

“Please let me go..” you said, trying your best not to let your voice crack out of pressure. You felt Jotaro kiss your cheek lightly. And you let him. You let him because you actually couldn’t move. You felt like there was something holding you against your will. You let Jotaro explore your body for a few minutes, and you felt awful. Someone you once saw as a friend, was fondling with your breasts along with kissing your neck with and ever loving passion. You wanted to cry, you wanted to scream, hell you just wanted to run away from Jotaro’s grasp. Those arms that were once so comforting, were starting to sufficate you.

Jotaro had been using Star Platinum to hold you together. He didn’t want you to leave so soon, after all he finally had you in his grasp he had no reason to let you go.

Not satisfied with what he had done to you, Jotaro dragged you towards a bathroom and shoved you towards a stall. He removed that stupid hat he always wore and pinned you towards the stall, while unbuckling his pants.

The definition of of lonliness is the state of being alone, and feeling sad about it. Kujo Jotaro had experienced this emotion right before meeting you. Now the feeling he is experiencing is love. However, that ‘love’ soon became a frightening obssesion.

And you can only watch him go through it.

#yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere jjba #yandere jotaro #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere jotaro kujo #jjba imagines #jotaro kujo #yandere headcanons #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo x reader #jotaro x reader #yandere jotaro x reader

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writinglizards · 3 years

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No One Else

Summary: Jaskier hates winters and he hates Yule time, especially.

How is he supposed to spend the holidays with his loved one when his heart is in the Blue Mountains, tucked away safe in Kaer Morhen?

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Jaskier hasn't spent many Yule holidays with people he cares about, family or otherwise.

As a boy, he remembers a few Yules, but mostly his parents had gone off to bigger, grander Yule celebrations at the homes of other, more influential nobility, leaving Jaskier and his siblings at home. There may have been a few, insincere gifts as a child, but even those tapered off as he grew older. Then he'd been old enough for school and he’d spent...remarkably little time at home, even on the holidays. And then he'd gone off to Oxenfurt and never looked back.

Oxenfurt is more his home than Lettenhove ever was, but his Yules here are still mostly lonely. As a student, he'd been one of the few not to return home for the holidays and had spent most of them, therefore, shut up in his dorm writing and composing as if it were a normal night. As a lecturer? It's not much different, only a nicer set of rooms. There's no point visiting siblings he hasn't seen in years or spending the night down in a tavern with the rest of the sad sacks.

The only person he wants to spend his time with retreats into the mountains every winter and wouldn't stay in Oxenfurt even as a last resort. Jaskier knows, he's offered him lodgings here over the winter before and Geralt has always been quick with a reason he can’t accept. It’s a standing invitation, but Jaskier knows he’ll never take him up on it--he’s just lucky Geralt lets him stick around the rest of the year.

This year, they'd parted much earlier than normal. Geralt had been following a contract south and Jaskier had needed to be in Ellander for a festival and things just hadn't lined up. They'd parted before the first leaves had even begun to fall and Jaskier hates that he'd missed so much time with Geralt this year. After all, it's only a matter of time until he decides he's done humoring him and letting him tag along. He's lucky to have squeezed so many years out of the witcher already--each subsequent year is a gift and Jaskier is terrified of when they will finally end.

Either way, he hasn't seen Geralt since before the first turn of fall and he's missing him terribly, not that that's new at all. He always misses Geralt when they're apart, but winters are...harder. The chill reminds him of cool evenings camping under the stars, the snow always inevitably makes him think of Geralt's hair, bright in the sun, the lit holiday candles always glimmer in a way that makes him think of gold eyes in the dark.

Winters have never been Jaskier's favorite season, but missing Geralt makes them so much harder. Yule is always somehow the hight of that pain--the holiday meant to celebrate the year, to be spent with those you love--and Jaskier spends each and every one alone.

There's a knock at the door and Jaskier reluctantly uncurls from brooding in the armchair by the fire and goes to answer to find one of the attendants that runs the building. It's bizarre to have a personal visit in general, but especially on the night of Yule.

"Master Jaskier?" He's...nervous?

"Yes, Nichol?"

"There's ah...someone here to see you? We didn't let him in because you hadn't said--"

"It's fine, Nichol," who could possibly be here to see him? "Send him up, won't you?" He moves as if to close the door, but Nichol doesn't move.

The man shifts from foot to foot. "Y-yes, Master Jaskier. It's just--" Jaskier cocks an eyebrow, "he's--it's a witcher, sir." It's like being thrown headfirst into the Pontar in the middle of spring--ice cold and shocking. Something must be very wrong.

"Is he--" but there's no point in asking this nervous ball of a man about what the witcher looks like or how he is, is there? Jaskier can tell now, the fear hiding in the set of his shoulders. That’s not the disposition of someone who could be concerned with the well-being of a witcher. "Give me a moment, I'll follow you down."

Geralt's standing at the desk downstairs, whole and unharmed, and Jaskier lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"Geralt!" He turns as Jaskier approaches and the look on his face brings Jaskier up short. There's...something wrong. "Geralt, is everything okay?"

"Hm." It's one of his cagey hums. Jaskier won't be getting an answer out of him anytime soon.

"Well, come on up, anyway. No reason to stand in the hall and talk." The attendant is visably relieved when Geralt hoists his swords back over his shoulder and follows Jaskier back to his rooms. Mentally, he makes a note to have a very strong word with the head attendant about sensitivity training the next time he sees her.

It's silent the entire walk back, which isn't new with Geralt, but Jaskier finds himself a little nervous about it anyway. What’s Geralt is going to think? He's never been to Oxenfurt with Jaskier, never seen his rooms, never met the people he works with or the shop owners that know him by name. It's...unsettling. And then there's the reason Geralt's here, which he still hasn't given an answer about.

The door is unlocked, so he shoves it open and ushers Geralt in. He ducks a bit as he passes Jaskier and enters the room and then he...stops. Freezes on the spot. Jaskier freezes in the doorway in response.

"What." He means it as a question, but it comes out taunt and frigid, like an accusation.

"Looks like you," Geralt grunts out after a long moment. Jaskier doesn't know if that's a compliment or not (probably not).

"Sorry, I can--" he starts, already darting forward to clean the loose parchment from the divan, stack the books laying haphazard all over the room, do something.

"No," Geralt interrupts, and Jaskier feels his stomach flip-flop almost unplesantly, "No, this is--it's nice, Jaskier. It's you." And that's...he doesn't know what to do with that.

"Oh," he laughs, just a little strangled, "okay then. Um. Make yourself at home, darling. Sorry there's no Yule decorations I'm...a little unfestive this year.” He’s never festive, actually, but Geralt doesn’t know that. “Have you eaten?" He doesn't wait for Geralt to answer, "of course you haven't. I'll call for something. Won't be more than a moment." He ducks out into the hallway again without waiting for an answer.

He spends the entire walk to the kitchen trying to calm his rapid heartbeat, walk off the nerves that have made their home in the set of his shoulders, the fidget of his fingertips against his thigh. It's just Geralt.

He orders a spread and doesn't let the curious look the cook gives get to him at all as he paces in the hallway and waits for her to finish.

"You know we could send this up for you, Jaskier? No one should have to pace the hallway Yule night." The cook says when she hands the plate over, finally. He smiles at her, only a little tightly.

"Oh, I know Margret, darling. Needed the walk, though. Thank you, love." She 'hm's at him but lets him go, something akin to the noise Geralt makes when he's not buying Jaskier's bullshit. It makes him a little sick, how much he both loves and hates that noise--it sounds wrong coming from someone else's throat.

The walk back to his rooms is both too long and too short--he's worked himself up into a minior frenzy by the time he's at his own door again.

He takes a moment to breathe, eyes closed, before he forces a smile back on his face and pushes through the door. "Food's here," he calls, setting the spread down on the low table in the sitting room. Geralt's nowhere to be found. "Geralt?"

He finds him in the bedroom, the spare shirt of Geralt's that Jaskier nabbed in a moment of weakness earlier just this year to keep him company for the winter in his hand. "Uh, I'm--I'm sorry that's--"

"I thought I'd been a shirt short." His tone is even and neutral and it makes Jaskier want to tear his hair out. Does he care? Does he not? Jaskier can’t tell.

"It, um, must have ended up in my pack. I meant to bring it back this spring." The look on Geralt's face says he doesn't believe a word. "Food's here!" he deflects.

"Mm." He allows himself to be redirected and follows Jaskier back into the sitting room, leaving the shirt on the bed. He settles himself on the divan after Jaskier clears him a spot and digs into the meat and cheese spread without a word. As far as Yule meals go, it’s not very traditional, but Jaskier’s sure it doesn’t matter. He settles himself on the floor by the table and picks at the spread absently, giving Geralt the time he needs to eat unharassed. He tries not to think about how this is the first Yule he's spent with anyone in any capacity since he was a boy and very determinately does not get emotional over the fact that it's Geralt here with him, even accidentally. He can feel his eyes on him as he plucks at a loose thread on his doublet and tries not to fret.

"Soooo--" he says after Geralt's eaten his fill and leaned back, kicking his legs out in front of him, "--what brings you here to Oxenfurt, Geralt?" He winces immediately, but he's already asked, so-- "Shouldn't you be at Kaer Morhen already?"

Jaskier can already tell he's fucked up.

"I won't stay long," Geralt says, expression blank the way it only is when he's withholding his true reaction.

"I didn't say you couldn't stay, you oaf," Jaskier snaps immediately, tries not to let his irritation get the best of him because he knows what Geralt’s like when he meets anger for frosty frigidity, "I would be deeply offended if you left, actually."

Geralt stares at him, hard. "I’d be...intruding," he says, no elaboration.

"What? Gods, Geralt, intruding on what? I'm--" he gestures to the expanse of his very empty rooms, "--pretty fucking far from busy, if you hadn't noticed."

Geralt's expression does pinch at that. "I noticed. Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why aren't you--" he pauses, seems to be searching for the right words, "--why aren't you...involved? Doing things. It's Yule, Jaskier, why are you--"

"Alone?" Jaskier interrupts, seeing where this is going. Geralt doesn't say anything, just stares at him, steady. Jaskier sighs, hard. "Who else would I spend winters with, Geralt?"

"I don't know," Geralt says slowly, "I just...I assumed you had someone."

"You assumed I--Geralt. Tell me you didn't think I had some...some lover I'd never told you about waiting for me here in Oxenfurt every winter."

The look on Geralt's face tells him he thought exactly that.

"Melitele's tits, Geralt." Jaskier sighs, breathes in slowly in an attempt to calm himself. "So why are you here, then? Since it's pretty clear you aren't here to take me up on the offer of wintering with me."

Geralt's expression does something complicated Jaskier can't parse before it smooths out into slightly constipated indifference again.

"The passes are snowed in."

And that's-- "Yes, Geralt. I know that," Jaskier says, drawing on the infinite well of patience he seems to only have access to when trying to coax Geralt out of being an obtuse ass. "Why didn't you make it up the mountain before the passses snowed in?"

Geralt visibly swallows. Jaskier can't help but track the bob of his adams apple. "I--" the gust of breath is audible as Geralt sighs, shoulders loosening in something like defeat, "I missed you, Jaskier."

The fire crackles in the hearth. It'll need another log soon. "What?"

Geralt looks like he'd rather be hunting drowners. "I missed you, Jaskier. And I was--I was thinking about coming to see you but I--I couldn't, I wasn't sure--" Jaskier will not faint like some kind of wilting damsel, even if he feels as if he can't get enough air all of a sudden. "--And then the pass was closed and I. I don't--I won't stay if you don't want me to. I'll figure something out."

"Geralt," Jaskier says. It comes out barely audable and he has to clear his throat and try again, "Geralt, love, of course you can stay." Something in Geralt's posture loosens in relief this time, as if he'd still been afraid Jaskier might ask him to leave until that moment, "of course you can. I missed you too."

Something flashes in Geralt's eyes, something that looks a little like surprise. "Oh."

They tip-toe around each other the rest of the evening. Jaskier helps him bring his bags up after a brief visit to Roach during which he slips her a sugar cube he knows Geralt pretends not to see. He gives Geralt space and time to get settled until his armor is off and his bags partially unpacked. They don't really talk until Jaskier realizes he's going to have to either offer Geralt his bed or make up the divan for him. And. Well. He's a weak man, after all.

"Geralt?"

"Hm?" He’s taking stock of his armor by the fire when Jaskier ambles up beside him to stand at his shoulder. He tries not to fidget, despite the nerves trying to choke him. There’s no reason this should be different from any other time they’ve shared lodgings (except of course, it is).

"Going to bed soon, love?"

He stares at his armor just a beat too long before he leans back to look up into Jaskier's face, expression mildly puzzled. "Mm?"

"I--" he can feel his face heat, "I wanted to--to offer to share. You know since I--I don't have--"

"I can sleep on the floor, Jaskier."

"No! No, I--I have plenty of room. And I. I want you in my bed, Geralt." That comes out...not quite the way Jaskier meant it. Or it comes out too honest, actually. He absolutely wants Geralt in his bed like that, he just doesn't think Geralt would want it.

Interestingly, Geralt's cheeks color and he looks away. Jaskier expects him to refuse again. "Okay," he says, soft, and something in Jaskier's chest flutters.

He follows Jaskier into the bedroom and it's...almost normal. Like sharing at an inn, except this is Jaskier's room, Jaskier's space. It's as much a choice as it is a necessity.

The shirt on the bed taunts him. He wants to wear it--has been wearing it--but with Geralt here--

He’s stolen from his painful reverie when Geralt thrusts the shirt at him, gaze averted.

“Wha--”

“Wear it,” Geralt rumbles, already slipping into bed, predictably on the side closest to the door. Something warm and bright burns through him. He does as he’s told.

The material falls to roughly mid-thigh. It fits well enough in the shoulders, but Geralt’s slightly longer and bulkier torso means it billows on him a little like a slip. It makes him feel impossibly small and it’s...nice. Even nicer to settle together, not quite touching, and Jaskier reluctantly relaxes. He's drifting comfortably but not quite asleep when Geralt shifts and tucks himself along Jaskier's side, rests his head gently on Jaskier's shoulder and it's suddenly all too much.

"Geralt," he whispers, afraid to break the spell they seem to have fallen under. They are well outside their normal playbook at this point and Jaskier has no idea how to navigate the situation, only knows he wants it to continue, wants Geralt close.

Geralt stiffens and stays still for a beat too long before he starts to pull away.

"No, love," Jaskier corrects immediately, rests his hand on the back of Geralt's neck to keep him close, tangles his fingers in his hair, "no, please stay." Geralt shivers and tucks himself in closer again, eyes resolutely closed.

"Sorry," he says.

"Don't apologize, darling. I'm--I'm happy you're here, you know? I haven't spent a Yule with anyone in a long time." Geralt makes a tiny noise of acknowledgment. He should say it, he should say it. If there's ever been a time it's now, clothed in Geralt’s old shirt, with Geralt curled along his side, the heat of him radiating through the thin material. He presses his lips to the top of Geralt's head and feels him relax slowly. His heart pounds.

"I know you're in love with someone," Geralt breathes, warm against the soft skin of the bard's throat, "I figured it must be someone you had here. But--" Jaskier's breath hitches, "there really is no one else, is there?"

"No," Jaskier says, voice just a little strained.

"Who is it?" It's barely more than a breath.

"Geralt," Jaskier sighs softly.

"Humor me," he murmurs, presses his lips to the exposed skin he can reach. Jaskier's breath punches out of him.

"It's always been you," he says, running his fingers through Geralt's hair. Geralt makes a small noise. He seems...content. Soft and quiet against Jaskier's side.

"I thought it was too good to be true," Geralt says into the dark when Jaskier doesn't think he'll speak again. "Figured there must be someone else." His chest aches.

"It's only been you since I was twenty years old, Geralt," and oh, that's a bizarre feeling, to get that one off his chest. He's very aware of the fact Geralt hasn't said it back, but...he's here, isn't he?

"Idiot," Geralt scoffs, "I should have left you behind at that inn in Posada." To the ear untrained in Geralt-isms, it sounds dismissive, harsh. Jaskier hears the fondness in it, all the things Geralt isn’t saying.

"Where would I be without you, witcher?" He breathes, feels the tears prickle at the corner of his eyes.

"Safer," Geralt says, without missing a beat. Jaskier scoffs.

"You know, traditionally Yule visitors bring a gift, not verbally berate their hosts." Geralt snorts a laugh, presses his lips to Jaskier's skin again.

"Mm, thought you might like this gift," Geralt says, spreading a palm above Jaskier's pounding heartbeat.

"Geralt, you did not wait until Yule to come to Oxenfurt so you could make a tasteless joke about gifting me your company, tell me you didn't."

"I didn't," Geralt repeats, but Jaskier can hear the smile in his voice.

"Oh, you are awful," he says, delighted.

"There's also lute strings in my pack for you," he says, "I bought them in case...well. They're yours anyway." Jaskier knows what he means. He bought them in case there had been someone else, in case Geralt had been right.

"Thank you, love," he chokes out past the lump in his throat. It's the first time anyone's gotten him anything for Yule since he was a child. "I'm sorry I don't have anything for you."

"Just you is enough," Geralt breathes into the curve of his throat. Jaskier feels fit to burst.

He may not like winter and he may not care for Yule, but this one? This one's just fine.

#witcher #witcher fic #geraskier #lizard writes #rating: general #SPITE IS A POWERFUL MOTIVATOR #thank u em for saying i couldnt finish this in three days lmao

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