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silent-sanctum · 1 year

Note

Do you do AUs? If you do, may I request Jotaro x fem!reader where he is a mafia boss? 💖💖💖

Oh anon, I absolutely love writing AUs, they're actually my specialty ^^ So I had a nice time writing this one for you. Everyone say thank you to anon for the request~ Granted, mafia aus are the fics I'm not too well-versed with, but I did my best! Hope you and the others enjoy it!💖

Lowlife Princess - Jotaro x Reader

word count: 9.9k+

3 minuscule clangs echoed throughout the darkened ballroom, followed by the screams of pain.

How unfortunate was it to think that this space used to harbor so much events may it be a drinking fest to drown the glutinous, a town hall meeting to indulge the corrupt, hell maybe even an orgy to satisfy the lustful.

Though with a couple of crimson smeared on the walls, unhinged doors cast aside useless on the floor, ruined furniture rid of their contents, and shattered glass from tall windows, the once grandeur of the hall has now been reduced to a decrepit room for slaughter.

All because the greedy politician couldn’t pay his debt.

Within the four corners, men in tailored suits stood by with an assortment of weaponry in their hands- a barbed bat, bladed steel, warm-tipped guns, etc. They remained still and stood to block every path of escape, watching their leader circle around his victim with a simple revolver in hand.

Around him, countless bodies of his guards lay motionless. All done by his hands. Red filled the spaces unoccupied by their corpses. His family was left unharmed but kept under close surveillance in case they try to flee and report.

And of the old coot? He’s bound to the singular chair in the middle of the room, stripped down to his sweat-soaked undershirt and piss stained boxers. 2 bullet wounds punctured his thighs, one each, bleeding profusely down his legs, while the last blew his right ear right off.

With the man stopping before him, the politician whimpered. “I-I swear the money was on its way 2 days ago! You can check my messages for proo-”

“I don’t give a fuck about your messages,” the boss gritted out, gripping the chair’s arms to lean forward with a deathly glare. “You owe us a shitload of funds and this is the third time you haven’t paid what’s due.”

This was also him being extra generous mostly due to this guy’s history with his family, but at the first sign of noncompliance, he won’t be tracing his roots just to spare one influential man. There are many other fishes in the sea after all.

He eyed the darkening skies outside the window and clicked his tongue. “It’s getting late. Might as well loot all your possessions and hack into your accounts to find my severance pay.” At the snap of his fingers, 4 of his men bowed and got to work in an instant.

With a cock of his head, another brandished a knife to slice the ropes off of the quivering politician. The adult immediately planted his face on the cold floor in a full bow, still whimpering. “T-Take all that I have! Just p-please let me go! I’ll find more ways to pay you more!”

The leader pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his blood-tipped gun, not looking at him. “I already let you go.”

A sliver of hope grew on his pathetic face. “Does that mean you’ll spare me?”

“No.”

Another bang echoed within the spacious area and the politician dropped to the ground with the others, a bullet lodged through his forehead.

He spared no more time watching his corpse rot on the floor and turned on his heels with the swish of his long coat. His men stood aside as he crossed through the door frame. “Report to me the details of the ‘transactions’ at my office. Understood?”

“Yes sir!”

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

Jotaro Kujo was what one would describe as “ruthless yet reasonable”.

Being the 3rd patriarch of his family bloodline at the age of 28, he was a smart figure with a penchant for methodical violence. He had a lot responsibilities managing the Sangyosei, one of Japan’s most dangerous yakuza clans, infamous for its reputation of gaining followers through material benefit and killing traitors with prolonged torture.

It wasn’t hard but the fact that the 1st patriarch, Jonathan, established the Joestar mafia lineage in Europe and the 2nd, Joseph, in North America, it made the whole structuring a whole hierarchy from the ground up a hassle to deal with.

But it took him a couple months of proving what he’s capable of to his lackeys and enemies, until the Japanese mafia has solidified its place with its current reputation.

And while power felt good to many, he would thrive in it if he didn’t have to deal with … other matters. Paperwork. Interviews. Secret meetings. Training. Dealing with backstabbers.

Jotaro needed a break once in a while. Good grief.

He stepped out of his car, unbothered by the amount of blood painted on his long black coat, and walked through the clan headquarters' main entrance, followed by his men behind him. “Good day, sir.” Two maids bowed upon entry.

“Kakyoin, any updates on the tasks I told about earlier?” Jotaro paid no attention to the ladies’ greetings, instead shrugging off his coat to dump into their arms for wash. “I’m expecting an increase of numbers.”

A man with red curled hair decked in a sharply-pressed olive green suit stepped aside from the line of soldiers, a tablet in hand displaying the needed information. “Yes sir. Accordingly, I’ve received reports from Polnareff that whatever Takahashi had in his possessions, they managed to sack everything valuable he had in his manor and wired all his saved money into your account.”

He handed over the device into the boss’ hand as the two reached the top of stairs where his office situated. Jotaro flicked through the images of accessories and priceless décor and read the success notification of money transferred. “And the clean-up?”

“Avdol already ordered them to get rid of the bodies,” Kakyoin said as he opened the door for the raven-haired to enter. Behind them, two stationary guards stood by to shut them close.

And behind shut doors, Jotaro could finally let that menacing mask off his face for once and slump onto his chair, hanging up his hat on the nearby rack beside him. “This is the 5th time someone hasn’t met deadlines. Why do I still bother offering at this point…”

“Well, you could either say it was due to Ms. Holly’s influence on you or your great grandfather’s values,” Kakyoin said.

The boss pinched the bridge of his nose with the hints of a headache coming any minute. “Damn their persevering good will. Makes me wonder why Jonathan started a business this shady in the first place.”

“Hey boss! We’re back!”

The doors burst open to welcome a silver-haired Frenchman with the indigo suit and upbeat personality, and a dark-skinned man beside him who received all the embarrassment for his companion with his persimmon robes. “Polnareff, what did I say about keeping the noise down?”

“Ah come on, it’s just us here. Let loose for a bit.”

Aside from his numerous men working for him, Jotaro kept a close circle of guards around him, those who had better skills and attributes than the rest. Kakyoin, the one who offered his services in exchange for protection from the Kyuketsuki clan, was the one responsible directing his orders to the others and the one who obtains details about almost everything.

Polnareff and Avdol were both transferred from the American branch under the instructions of Joseph Joestar. Those two shared the same role of leading selected groups of men to do Jotaro’s bidding.

Years of working together had granted these 3 adults privilege to be informal with their leader and the latter to be more lenient towards them. However, they all knew very well not too take his generosity for granted.

“Well… what’s next on the itinerary boss?” Pol asked, reaching into his suit to pull out a lighter for a smoke. With his cigarette lit, he tossed the silver item into Jotaro’s waiting hand.

“Imports from Italy are scheduled to arrive at the docks tomorrow dawn.” He brought the small flame to the tip of his cigarette and flicked the lid close with a tiny clang. Blowing out a puff of smoke, he continued. “But I’ve also heard that bastard’s planning a raid to get rid of the stationed guards and loot all the guns from their crates.”

“Should we inform them of the attack?” Avdol spoke out.

“No need. I already phoned the captain of the ship to change the time of arrival from dawn to late evening. Those who were standing by have already received the new schedule and to prepare themselves in the probable case Brando’s lackeys do proceed with the raid.” The leader said, eyeing the map and other paperwork on his desk.

“And the cops?”

“Sent representatives to deal with them. If they do what they’re told accordingly, then we’re in the clear.”

All three nodded. “How about you,” Kakyoin said. “Are you coming with us to inspect the imports?”

Jotaro huffed and pressed the cigarette butt against the image of a blond man smirking at him through the photo.

The cool surface of his revolver grew prominent as he said with a sneer. “Wouldn’t miss an opportunity to take him down along with his bloodthirsty crew.”

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

It was 11:30 in the evening and Jotaro walked through the alleyways leading to the docks with his men trailing behind him.

Prior to his departure from headquarters, he asked for any details if any sudden appearances transpired between 5 to 6 in the morning. Reports told him that several men did arrive fully armed with weapons, bearing the fang and blood tattoos on their skin.

And they were dispatched of at first sight.

Throughout the rest of the day, the raven-haired’s guards continued to monitor the area with sharp eyes, just in case the bastard tried to sneak another raid in an attempt to claim territory. He had another group of guards keeping an eye on nearby windows just in case someone dared to take him out in the clear.

But he arrived at the place the same time the ship delivered his goods with the captain and his crew members lowering the last of them onto the pavement. Around him, his men dispersed to secure the area and stood guard while their leader approached further.

The nearby street light allowed him to glance down and notice the visible red smears still on the wood panels below him and on those surrounding the landing docks. There’s the confirmation.

Though as he was about to move past the two buildings, Avdol spoke behind him. “Boss, you should stay hidden for now. Just so you wouldn’t feel too exposed.”

Jotaro regarded him for a split second and gave one nod. “Open them then but I still plan to have a personal talk to the captain after they load the goods.”

“We’ll just inform about your request to see him. Where shall the meeting take place?” Kakyoin said.

“Bring him to the nearest room here. Clear the area and make sure no one is around. I’d rather meet back at HQ but I know the captain has a tight schedule to follow.”

No further questions were asked and together with his two other personal guards, the red-haired turned to his tablet and went off around the corner.

Jotaro watched Polnareff and Avdol order people to open the crates, and felt satisfaction fill him as soon as he saw the items lifted from the sea of white Styrofoam- Beretta PM12 and MAC-10 sub-machine guns, Beretta 92 and Staccato CS handguns, numerous batches of ammunition, combat knives, bulletproof vests, and a couple of expensive wines and pasta as courtesy from Giorno Giovanna, Passione’s mafia boss- a subset branch of the Joestar business that Jotaro made connections with beforehand.

He shoved a hand into his pant pocket and had the other reach for his phone, informing his assistant to make sure the transaction wired to the young blond end up in success.

Though as he finished with the call, a commotion occurred in the direction of where he came from. He turned to see what caused the ruckus and stepped one foot back at the pack of rats worming around him.

Tiny scattering footsteps grew into regular human footsteps, echoing louder as it drew close. Jotaro reached for his revolver in an instant-

Only for a woman to jump out of the shadows in a panic and grab him with no ounce of decency, hiding behind him. “Help! Help me please!” The fuck? Informing his men of the intruder should be done by now, but she continued to point into the alleyway. “Some thugs are chasing me down! Hide me please!”

On cue, a couple more footsteps could be heard from a distance alongside the audible squabbling of men stating that they heard someone run here. Jotaro kept a firm stance and fixed his attention to the growing noise until a mob of 15 men came barging in with flushed faces and rabid mouths.

He gave one quick scan down their body to find the semblance of some tattoos belonging to a clan only to find none. The leader cocked his head. Just a bunch of predators I see.

One of them walked in front with a bottle of sake in hand with a hiccup. “Oi… you there… I think you should give her to us.”

“Why should I?”

The drunk laughed, turning to his fellow drunkards. “Would you look at this punk?” He spat on the ground. “You gonna regret denying us-”

“Take one step forward and you’ll be the one regretting.” The guy gave one last chuckle and put one foot forward-

Bang.

The sound rang throughout the alley, followed by the dull thud of his body collapsing onto the ground with a bullet wound in his head. Behind him, the woman yelped as she covered her ears from the sudden shot. The remaining mob staggered back in shock.

As if he wasn’t stupid enough, two more of them ran to the yakuza leader’s direction in a blind fit of rage, only for them to meet the same fate as the first with two more blasts of his revolver.

The rest of them cowered at the sight of their fallen brethren and froze on the spot. Behind Jotaro, his own men came running in at the sound of gunfire, and the rushing footsteps were enough for the mob to make a run for it. “Gun them down. All of them and make sure no one escapes.”

No response was needed as Polnareff charged into the shadows with his line of men, while Avdol and Kakyoin remained by their leader’s side.

“You…”

He grabbed the lady’s wrist and kept her securely in his grasp. “You’re coming with us to HQ to sort this little ‘mess’ you brought in today.”

She said nothing but offered him furrowed brows and a scowl in exchange.

“Kakyoin, have the captain wait for one of my calls and tell Polnareff to return as soon as they’re dealt with. And Avdol, secure the imports and bring them to base as soon as possible.”

“I have… other matters to deal with right now.”

Just as they retreated back into the shadows, the resounding gunshots echoed through the night.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

“Why am I dragged into this?” she said as she stood in the middle of the room, constantly glancing at the men watching her. “I’m the one being chased down yet somehow I’m also guilty enough to be here?”

“You’re here because you trespassed into yakuza territory and grabbed me unceremoniously that would have ended you dead like your chasers,” Jotaro said in return, leaning against his chair. “Consider yourself lucky that I left you alive.”

“Okay fine! I get it was rude for me to just throw myself to you out of nowhere and I’m thankful that you didn’t shoot me immediately,” she rambled on but the leader merely cocked a disinterested brow. “I’ll stop talking then. What do you want? Why did you bring me here in the first place?”

“Bold words for someone trapped in a lion’s den,” Pol spoke up, chuckling.

To which the woman averted her gaze to him with intentional judgment. “First time? What are you gonna do? Shoot me?” The Frenchman spluttered and reached for his gun, only for Avdol to stop him with a visible ‘what are you doing’ look to his face.

“Let’s start things of with some basic details about yourself. Start with your name-”

“Now why the hell would why-”

Multiple guns pointed to her, causing her to shut up with arms up in the air. “Your name, age, and occupation.”

Jotaro heard the lady mumble to herself before heaving a sigh and answering his query. “Y/N. 27. Investigator. You can check my pockets for my ID or badge or whatever.”

Avdol did what she said and found her identification card and badge, both having her in the pictures clear as day. “An informant and detective..,” the Egyptian muttered. “Boss, if we consider her occupation and… distasteful behavior, this could spell trouble for us in the long run.”

“Distasteful?!”

“I hear you Avdol, though with the information learned, we might be able to benefit from it as well.” The raven-haired turned to the woman as he poured himself a glass of imported whiskey. “I presume you’re smart enough to know that by having one yakuza clan save you from those drunks, you’re indebted to us.”

A rebuttal wanted to leave her mouth but with a swallow, she nodded. “Should’ve expected it.”

“You have two choices,” the clan leader presented a wad of bills and a pistol on his desk. “You pay us about 1 000 000 yen for our job and for you to shut up about this whole ordeal-”

“What?! But I don’t have that much mon-”

“Or,” Jotaro held up a hand, not finished with his sentence. “Offer your services to the Sangyosei Clan.”

All three of his personal men turned to him with surprise. Even Y/N widened her eyes at the choice of words. “B-Boss what?”

“Couldn’t we at least just make her one of our eyes in the city?” Kakyoin butted in. “We’ll just make sure she doesn’t end up spilling intel about the underground.”

“It won’t be permanent,” he said in return. “Only for a year or for how long I deem it to be.”

“Does she even know how to fight? Our job isn’t exactly a walk in the park.” Polnareff added to the cherry-haired’s concerns.

“That’s for us to see.” Jotaro snapped his fingers, prompting the attention of everyone in the room. “With the exception of my personal guards, I order for every man in this room to attack her. No guns or blades.”

The lady was appalled at the sudden decision and took in all 6 suited men with their fists up, ready to charge. She made sure to turn to the boss and cocked her head, tonguing the inside of her cheek. “Asshole.”

Admittedly, he didn’t know what to expect but he was curious on how developed she was in terms of combat. At the first advance of a guard, Y/N stepped to the side and elbowed the guy in the ribs, before dodging another incoming punch aimed for her face.

In return, she returned the favor and swept a kick on his knees, toppling him down. On her feet again, she lunged forward to the next guard, grabbed his arm, and twisted around, eliciting a yell from the man. Planting her foot on his back, she launched the guard onto the other one, knocking them both down.

With nimble feet and quick reflexes, she evaded the swings the remaining men had for her. Though, at an opening, Y/N ducked through them and landed a direct chop to one guard’s nape, dodging the last one’s last attempt at a jab. With his momentum lost, she returned the punch with one of her own, delivering a blow straight to his face.

To her luck, she was near the boss’s desk and with no hesitation, went for the pistol and aimed the gun at Jotaro.

“Boss!”

But the raven-haired only smirked, watching as Y/N tried to pull the trigger only for nothing but a dull click to come out. “Impressive. You’ve indeed excelled in your combat training for you to handle 6 grown men with no weapon… aside from reaching the fake model to shoot me with.”

“How’d you-”

“Quick look into your online profile and messages addressed to martial art trainers both new and old will do wonders in providing me information. Combined with your fearless attitude and your chosen career path, one could put two and two together.”

In a flash, Y/N yelped as he swiped the fake gun off her hand in a second, and pointed his revolver to her in the next. “Makes me wonder why you couldn’t fend off the bastards in the alleyways.”

“They were more than double of the men you have in this room, most armed with something. Even I have my limits boss-nim,” she scowled.

Jotaro huffed and gestured for Polnareff and Avdol to move. “Take her to her quarters. I’ll have my men fetch your essentials from your residence and you can start training tomorrow.”

Y/N clicked her tongue with irritation, but allowed the two guards to bring her to the ordered location. At their exit, he exhaled one long sigh, removing his hat to run his fingers through his black curls.

“I hope you know what you’re doing…” Kakyoin muttered quietly.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

What was promised to be a year or two turned to five.

And the next thing Jotaro knew was that Y/N rose in ranks, earning her a spot in his close circle of guards alongside the three men.

She was his right hand man.

And in an unexpected turn of events, he had strange fondness for her.

He could still remember how she performed during her first few weeks at headquarters despite her initial wish of just wanting to get out of her unfortunate situation. The leader had watched her sessions and monitored her performances.

He had to give it to this lady- she knew her way with weaponry as she was with physical combat.

She had near to perfect aim whenever she shot with the gun of her choice, had prowess in handling knives around their test dummies, and had able to withstand daily endurance tests that checked how good her stamina was.

With further research, Jotaro found out that you were an honors graduate at a police university that just so happened to have a club centered around martial arts. He double checked the images depicting her in the institute’s uniforms, scanned several lists she was in.

In every single one, she was there and he didn’t have to search further when her name would often be among the top students.

No wonder Y/N had no issues talking with criminals at their home base.

As days passed and she was given her own set of suits post training period, she was allowed in fulfilling assignments and thus followed orders from either Polnareff and Avdol to made sure whatever was asked was done, may it be to keep watch on a specified target, gun down non-compliant debtors, or secure an important object from a neighboring prefecture.

In the process, Y/N managed to be close friends with the two group leaders and his assistant:

“Hey you know, you’re not that bad as I initially thought.” Polnareff laughed, patting Y/N’s back.

“Really? But I do recall you wanting to shoot me when I was extra bratty that day…”

“Well who wouldn’t? Besides, you’re cool now. You do your job as a goon pretty well!”

She scoffed with a smile and a glass of alcohol in hand. They did come from a new mission to kill a new target and now they’re here in a small pub with blood splattered clothes. “Now that I think of it, I’d be annoyed by myself too, but… you’re right. After all, I do my job the best to my capabilities. Whatever it is.”

“To that I give my cheers to.”

“Is everything secured?”

“Hm, with Group A having returned fully loaded from floors 3 and 4 and Group B having cleared ground and 2nd floor and have helped with the other men, then I’d consider this a successful raid.”

Avdol smiled to himself, contented with a cleared task. “Though I have to say, it’s quite surprising that the Viper gang had several meditation books kept in one of the shelves.”

“And you’re saying this why?”

“Well, outside the bloodshed stress that I found myself in, I’d take most of my free time meditating in my room.”

“A zen person I see,” Y/N chuckled. “I figured you’d be one to let out some pent-up hassle through relaxing means.”

She crossed her arms and sighed. “I doubt our job won’t get any easier so Avdol-san,” you brought up one of the gang’s meditation books for the dark-skinned man to see. “Mind teaching me some of these relaxing methods you’ve mastered?”

With the rest of Jotaro’s men now heading back, the red-haired had stalled for a moment in the area of the interview to record the details of the events, making him more vulnerable to potential-

“Kakyoin!”

He turned around in shock at the sudden ambush of enemies heading straight for him. Though the guy had his gun prepared, he wouldn’t last too long. He pocketed his tablet in an instant and shot a couple of men down.

Y/N made the risk of running back into the fray to pull Kakyoin out of the line of fire. However, in the process of doing so, two bullets grazed her thigh and bicep, causing her to grunt in pain. “Shit! What the hell were you doing just standing there, you idiot?!”

Still on the run and frantic, the assistant reached for his phone to call for the men to return immediately, emphasizing the injury of his companion.

They ducked into the many lines of trees and hid themselves in a small cave hidden underneath moss-covered rocks and shrubs. “If your call did make it through and we keep quiet here, then we’ll make it out here alive.”

“Why’d you save me? You were already out of danger’s reach.”

She stared at him, stunned as if he spoke a different language. “Are you kidding? Don’t you know how mafia rules work? And I’m saying this as someone who’s newer to the clan.” She rose an arm to swat him, but forgot about her wound that she hissed in pain. “No one leaves brethren behind.”

Kakyoin pulled out a handkerchief to temporarily bandage the wounded spot. Y/N offered her own to deal with the one on her thigh. Just then, he let out a silent chuckle and she stared at him with confusion. “You’re right. I get too invested in my job too much that I tend to forget the most common of senses.”

She rolled her eyes with a disbelieving smile. “You sir are indeed an idiot.”

Beyond their small hideout, multiple rounds of gunfire rang throughout the forest together with the panicked screams of the attackers. “You’re gonna tell this to the boss, aren’t you?”

His acquaintance leaned on her good arm and responded with a cheeky smile.

Naturally, months of working together would eventually lead the once-hostile investigator to befriend his tightly-knit circle through violent yet worthwhile experiences. But Jotaro had also expected that organic growth of kinship to extend farther, stretching from his three personal guards to him directly.

Her ability to quickly adapt in any environment and headstrong personality were two factors that could penetrate through the Sangyosei leader’s intimidating aura. That was one thing… her providing insightful strategies and actively hanging out with him knowing he’s one of the country’s dangerous underground leaders were another.

And Jotaro, for the first time in his clan leader life, didn’t know how to respond to the woman’s clever approaches except with appalled intrigue.

“And if we turn to this side of the Hokkaido prefecture, there’s a gap here that will allow us entry to the Lotus gang’s hideout, and if we’re lucky, we’ll get some intel about the Kyuketsuki and their true motives.”

“But I see a slight problem in the plan and it has to do with the crowds we’re dealing with,” she said as she showed Jotaro the printed images of several people bearing lotus and/or blood-fang tattoos, standing guard or in the motion of surveying the area.

“These just came in from your men scouting the area and knowing the gang’s leader’s history of mischief and traps, they pretend to be unprepared to lure in prey.” Y/N said. “And who knows if they have goons on standby inside potential loot locations.”

“What do you suggest then?”

“We play the counter bait.” She reached for a pen and traced a circle on the area highlighting the gang’s main entrance. “If there’s another fact I’ve learned from the guy, he’s an addict to a good gambling game, and once he’s in, he’s in it to win it. Get one or two of your associates to deal a bet against his team and a distraction is set.”

“You got the head occupied but you’re aware of the guards still surveying the area.”

“That’s what everyone thinks, but I’ve studied his patterns long enough to know that once he’s in the middle of a game, he calls in everyone to watch the game in the main arena, because his pride is what fuels him, more so when he doesn’t have a single loss in his track record.”

She introduced three pairs of photos on top, all depicting a raving event featuring the gang’s leader and his cronies and empty pathways at the same time. “I’d know because it has happened thrice.”

“Even if he did leave some men on guard, it’ll be less and we’ll have enough workforce to take them down with the handy silencer equipped.” Y/N tilted her head, a finger under her chin. “Then we can ambush the remaining men from the shadows and capture the Lotus gang leader for info about the Kyuketsuki clan.”

Jotaro didn’t supply anything in return, speechless. Y/N turned to him with one raised brow. “What?”

“You are… very knowledgeable about a gangster mob that’s known to be discreet from the public.”

“Well you forget that I worked as private investigator for multiple clients. Nearly half of their complaints described the details of the same man you are targeting for. Call it a stroke of luck that you got me here now or else you guys would be in one hell of a night.”

And she did not disappoint. Her strategy was what earned Jotaro and his men a successful finish to a mission as his guards took the enemy crowd by surprise and shot them all down before they could launch a counterattack. Their leader, who was drunk with material wins and alcohol, was caught in the middle of his escape.

The bastard did spill intel about the bloodsucking yakuza, but he shared a bit more information than what Jotaro had initially expected.

“All you fucks searching for those leeches when there’s a bigger threat than that clan of his,” the Lotus leader said with his arms bound behind him on a chair. “Kyuketsuki this, Kyuketsuki that. I teamed up with them in the first place because I need to stay safe against the impending conquest of the Seiikigumi.”

“The Seiikigumi?” Jotaro asked, curious.

“Those guys are the real deal. Multiple mob houses and a clans have either fallen or submitted themselves to the mercy of that organization,” he said. “Scary thing is that no one in this city knows about them but Brando and high-paying info brokers.”

He did remember rumors of the mysterious yakuza clan spreading during his first years as leader, but he never saw any evidence to prove their existence. For all he knew, gangs fall because they were too disorganized and had high chances of getting caught by enforcement. Clans, especially the smaller ones, were disbanded due to insufficiency in human and financial resources.

“The Seiikigumi… I’ve heard of the rumors before,” Y/N muttered, deep in thought. “But people only told me details of them as if it’s a novel. I’ve yet to see a member of that group or their actions for myself.”

“Oh they’re real alright,” the bound man said with a grin. “So you better watch yourselves and be careful to not pry too much, or else the Sangyosei clan will be next on their chopping board.”

“The Lowlife Princess will have you as her next meal.”

Jotaro shot him clean in the head as soon the man started to cackle.

His words retained in his mind all throughout the rest of the day which was foolish for him to do. He had better more practical things to do than to fret about a myth. Yet, he found himself deep in thought in the middle of a meeting.

Eventually, it came to his realization that he was too busy scrounging his memories for any links to the Seiikigumi so he could devise something to prevent them from infiltrating his clan.

“Hey boss.” Jotaro blinked out of his mental thoughts and immediately made eye contact with Y/N standing before him in his office. “I’ve noticed you’ve been preoccupied with something. Is it what the Lotus leader said the other night?”

He sagged back against his chair and rubbed his temple, a mild headache starting to grow. “It’s nonsense but I’m here wondering why some drunk bastard is making me overthink.”

“You know, you’ve been busy lately- well, 24/7 if we’re being honest,” she said with casual tone, leaning against his desk with her back to him. “Have you even took breaks once in a while?”

“I have no time to let loose when anything could happen at any time,” he said. “Right now, I’m waiting for Kakyoin to update me on the whereabouts of the Kyuketsuki’s eyes. They’ve been too quiet recently and it peeves me off.”

“At this rate, you’re going to die from stress.” She turned to look over her shoulder. “How about we book the small, private restaurant nearby and eat? I heard the meals they got there are to your liking.”

Jotaro didn’t reply and instead stared at her with deadpan. Y/N rolled her eyes and lifted a white plastic bag filled with different boxes and cups inside. “Figured you’re gonna decline my every offer, but I insist you eat. You wouldn’t want the Sangyosei to find their boss dead on the floor due to starvation, would you?”

He was about to reject and suggest she share the meals with the other 3, but his guts had to betray him in that exact moment via a small growl. Jotaro closed his eyes in self-disappointment and Y/N smiled, smug as ever. “Chow time leader-nim.”

Starting from that offer to take-out lunch, the clan leader had granted the woman access to his social circle the same he gave to his personal guards. Where it stemmed from simple offers of drinks and food, slowly spiraled into conversations that didn’t involve the underground world, and eventually to flirting- both the subtle ones together with the direct.

That was the thing with her- she knew what she was doing, knew when to balance work and all the other stuff that was out of Jotaro’s field of specialty. One moment she’d assist him with formulating strategies and carry out orders as if it was merely shopping, and the next she’d share the most absurd stories about a client’s dead pet and its relation to a murder case while wasted beside him.

Y/N’s hardworking work ethics and clever planning eventually earned her spot as Jotaro’s right hand with the whole clan agreeing with the choice unanimously.

With her current position, she was able to connect with him more than before as she was able to follow him everywhere with no permission required. It gave her the power to convey approved orders to his men, acted as his advocate to associates wanting security, and watched over training sessions while he was busy with more serious matters.

With her by his side, Jotaro could feel himself getting swayed by her assertive charms and given how it seemed a heavy weight was off his shoulders, he had no complaints.

She’d start making advances that weren’t too subtle towards him- a sultry whisper into his ear, a brush of her hand against his, shared hooded glances, the press of her body against his in tight spaces, the quiet bickering of the two that contained suggestive innuendos-

It was unbearable, though not necessarily in a bad way.

The one that made the tightly-strung tension snap was the night Y/N made the conscious decision to walk into his office, fresh from a nightly sponge dressed in a silk robe while he in a dress shirt and vest. The raven-haired man swept his gaze up and down at her form with an intense look to his gaze, covering his actions with a quick “what are you doing?”

According to her, she came in with urgent news about the immediate sighting and dispatch of Kyuketsuki members making a move of sorts in the Gifu prefecture. At closer inspection, he learned that at that location, Brando kept majority of his weapons in storage, likely also containing maps leading to several more of his undisclosed bases.

If it were any other day, he would take note of the report and dismiss the reporter, but he kept her in the room longer than what should be.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you going to send me to my quarters, boss?” Y/N said while she had the gall to cross her arms under the swell of her breasts.

Jotaro stood with furrowed brows, never cutting eye contact as he walked to her in an almost predatory way. “Do you think what you’re doing is funny?”

The closer he got to her, she walked back until she found herself against the wall. “What exactly am I doing boss-nim?” She tilted her head up to face the frustrated clan leader and narrowed her eyes as if to challenge him. “Am I annoying you greatly?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. You know exactly what you’ve been doing and you’re right-” He slammed his hand on the space beside her head. “You’re driving me crazy, you vixen.”

Y/N scoffed, lips curling into a coy smile as her fingers threaded over the buttons of his vest. “Is that so? Why don’t you fire me then?” She purred. “Send me back to the world above the underground where I can expose your plot to the public?”

He clicked his tongue and leaned forward until his voice came out as a growl into her ears. “I’d be damned if I do such a thing.”

“So what are you gonna do, hm?” She whispered.

“I’ll make you shut up the way you like it.”

In the darkness lit only by the light of the full moon, Jotaro had her pressed up against the wall, robe cast aside as he fucked her with vigor, releasing all his pent up stress that accumulated throughout the times she teased him. Y/N whined and cried with every harsh pound of his hips against hers, every inch of her shivering from the intensity of it all.

Once she came, Jotaro flipped her around to let her face him as he lifted her up and thrusted back into her warmth with no hesitation. Y/N tossed her head back and moaned a loud cry, hands grasping his dress shirt with desperation. With her chest bouncing in front of him, he took the opportunity to bite and suckle on the hardened bud, prompting a second orgasm out of you.

He railed her to oblivion to no ends, carrying her over to his office desk only to fuck her over it with the same stamina as the first round. She gasped, breathless as her body rocked back and forth against the smooth surface of his table.

By the time her third orgasm hit her, Y/N still found herself on her back on the same furniture, unable to focus her vision and control herself from drooling at the overstimulation of Jotaro’s rough thrusts.

He never gave her the time to breathe, irritation still bubbling in him. As soon as she came yet again, he maneuvered both of them to his chair, where he planted Y/N on his lap, fucking up into her hear and letting you ride and bounce on cock.

Her body started to grow weary but her moans and cries were still loud as ever, addressing his title with every stimulated cry. Even at that, Jotaro grew annoyed. He wanted her to shout his name.

And so, the second she tightened around him for the fifth time, he held her close to him and pressed the tip of his nose into her neck, trailing it up until his lips grazed the shell of her ear. Raspy from his nonstop grunts, he muttered. “Beg.”

Y/N croaked out her words with unfocused, glassy eyes and a foggy mind resulting from the brutal poundings. “P-Please… boss-”

“Jotaro,” he whispered into her ear, emphasized with a slow yet deep roll of his cock against her walls. “I want you to cry out that name every time I fuck you.” Just like that, he suddenly bucked his hips upward, eliciting a ravishing cry out her reddened lips, one that only bore his name.

As his own release drew closer, his pace turned erratic and his thrusts increased in both speed and intensity, but to hear this woman plea his name over and over again just as she’s told was gratifying for the yakuza leader.

Wringing out one last orgasm out of her, Y/N jerked and let out a silent scream, a stream of clear liquid gushing out of her hole the same time Jotaro groaned and stiffened, feeling his release shoot into her soaked and loosened pussy.

Damn. He was exhausted.

Jotaro panted, sweat beading down his body as Y/N’s sweat-slicked body lay limp against his torso, feeling fluids leaking down his cock and seeping into the fabric of his slacks.

He turned to look at her to check on her current condition. She passed out from their wild escapade, cheeks flushed, panting with ragged breaths with stray hair plastered on her forehead from sweat. Her arms hung over his shoulders, no longer clawing lines onto his shirt.

Strangely enough, he was compelled to brush the hair off her forehead and plant a soft kiss on the area, before lifting her ass up to free his softened cock and arranging her body into a bridal hold to carry her over to his bedroom.

Ever since that night, no words were needed to convey that Jotaro’s relationship with Y/N became more than just simply that of “boss-guard”. They grew addicted to each other, craving that intimacy every moment it was just them in the comforts of closed doors. They would spend time in private establishments to plot, chat, eat, drink, and fuck.

Eventually, she wanted more. She wanted to claim his heart and so brazenly expressed her desires to him. And who’s he to decline her temptations at this point? Y/N was perfect in every aspect- a strategist, communicator, soldier, leader. Why would he refuse someone possessing those talents?

Just as she yearned for him, he gave into her allure, letting this woman become his queen.

But was it for the best?

Months after they had made it official, Jotaro decided to make a move to infiltrate one of the Kyuketsuki’s buildings in Gifu. Everyone in his circle had gathered around to discuss matters of the task, devised multiple plans on how to raid Brando’s precious armory.

Once all was clear and a plausible map of operations were made, he and a selected group of men chosen by Y/N, traveled to the marked location. Avdol had volunteered to join the venture as to provide extra security for his boss, while Kakyoin and Polnareff stayed behind to watch over for him.

It took them a while to get there, considering the distance between Tokyo and Gifu was fairly long. If it weren’t for the pathways formed exclusively for illegal transport, he wouldn’t be able to make it in time to weaken Dio’s forces, causing double repercussions for the territory he left without his watch.

But Jotaro reached the Kyuketsuki’s armory by nightfall and set everything into motion. He stationed his guards in their planned positions, with Avdol leading half of them to stay put in the shadows to serve as Jotaro’s eyes and keep watch of reinforcement, while he and Y/N lead the other half into the building, fully armed and cautious.

They crept through the darkened hallways that were eerily too quiet for a building supposedly filled with lackeys who often indulged in casual games and alcohol. “Boss,” Jotaro glanced at Y/N. “The firearms are found in the hangar in the left wing, but the documents and maps are kept in the right where the offices are located. Do you wish for me to help in retrieving the guns or-”

“I’ll lead the looting. You focus on giving me the paperwork,” he said. “Remember to keep an eye out. Who knows where they’re hiding.” She nodded once and split from the group at the next intersection between the two wings.

Something’s off. Why is no one here? Even as he first arrived, all the building’s lights were off. Not a single fluorescent lamp shining through a window, a lamp from a nearby shed, nothing. No goons were roaming around either, the footsteps of a patrol was non-existent. A chill crept up his spine. This is wrong. What happened?

As someone who’s been bested twice by him, Dio should have placed numerous men around his goods just as he always did to ensure nothing else would be stolen to maintain whatever pride he still had in him. But where were they?

The silence persisted even as he and his men reached the door to the hangar, kept shut with a low-security padlock tied to a chain. Jotaro pulled out his revolver and with a silencer equipped, he aimed and gave two shots before it gave away and fell. He cocked his head to motion his guards to remove the chains and push the door open.

True to the report, what he looked for were waiting for him to grab with crates of firearm stacked on top of each other lay inside while other miscellaneous items such as makeshift bombs and melee weapons lie on shelves. If he looked closer, he could spot a huge safe tucked in a dark corner where cash meant for the lackeys lay inside.

He should be relieved that he didn’t have to spare himself the extra trouble of fighting against a couple of gangsters to retrieve several guns, but he wasn’t because he knew this situation was too unusual and easy for his liking.

Unless-

The door clicked shut behind him and Jotaro spun just as he realized the reality he found himself in. He walked into a trap, but he was a second too late. A hard blow to his head sent him to the ground, warmth leaking out from where the pain came from. He bled from the impact.

He gritted his teeth and attempted to get up only for men, his men, to force him still on the ground, pulling out a white fabric to stuff his face into. Are you fucking kidding me? Jotaro was pinned to the floor, getting chloroformed by his guards.

The last thoughts that circulated his mind before falling unconscious was Y/N. She was caught in this as well and now she’ll be taken captive if she ended up unlucky as he was.

He should have seen this coming.

But why couldn’t he?

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

When Jotaro came to, he was bound in a rather… explicit way that he considered too vulgar for his taste.

He was on his knees, his whole body tied with red rope in a series of complicated knots. It was fortunate that his clothes were still on him or might as well shoot him where he knelt. Above him, a single low-hanging light was the only source of illumination this dark room had. Around him were people surrounding him with sub-machine guns in hand.

And out of the light, a lone figure stood in the shadows with two men standing guard beside them.

He squinted and tried to make out who it was. Dio Brando? Or some other lucky fucker who got a yakuza leader trapped? As a means of verification, he gritted out. “You’re being a coward now? Step out of the dark and face me, Dio.”

“Dio? Oh sweetheart, you couldn’t be more farther than the truth~”

Jotaro stilled, eyes widening and all air leaving his lungs at the familiar voice chirping at him. It was as if a cold bucket of ice had poured over him in an instant. It couldn’t be. How… How did… “Oh damn. I spoke to soon. Literally. But since I’m outed at this point, might as well not be a coward.”

The shadowed figure slowly stalked forward, revealing a woman dressed in a finely-pressed black suit ensemble fused with a black-laced sleeves and posterior half of a lace skirt trailing behind her, and with the culprit under the spotlight, he could see the wide almost excited smirk carved on her face.

“Y/N…”

“The one and only darling.”

He couldn’t fathom how he’s still able to keep it together at the revelation that the woman he saved that night, who served him to no ends for years, who became his lover, ultimately was the woman who would be his downfall. “Oh and you don’t need to worry about Avdol. I already sent them back to HQ, informing him that for investigative purposes, our half of the group had to stay behind a bit longer. And he listened with obedience.”

Jotaro felt a range of negative emotions boiling within him due to the most insulting betrayal he had throughout his life as a clan leader- anger, confusion, surprise, humiliation, hurt. “Explain yourself. There’s no point in talking about anything else now, is there?”

She hummed. “Might as well. Though there’s a lot of stuff I have to dump on you in one sitting unless you want-”

“Just get on with it, bitch.” He spat out, eliciting a delightful “oh?” from the other.

“Reaching curse words now are we? Alright, I’ll start from the beginning until where we are right now then.”

Everything started the night the imports from Italy arrived. With her associates, 80% of the civilians living in his turf, lurking in plain sight serving as her eyes, had updated her constantly on Jotaro’s every move. The same individuals who had sought his clan out for security.

The lackeys that Dio sent in an attempt to steal his weapons were all dealt by Y/N’s men who she called “wraiths”- silent and hidden only to strike at the right moment. The leech’s goons were all taken out by her snipers from the comforts of their undisclosed positions before they could reach the docks.

At the same time, Y/N had hired a group of drunk men she found in the streets, promised them she’d pay them for playing the part of assaulter, only for the promise to be in vain with them ending up dead.

The ID and badge that proved her "profession" as part of law enforcement were fabrications to sell her persona, but her combat skills and her way of handling weapons were very much true. Getting involved with the ruthless underground world would require one to possess at least one of those things.

Throughout her time working as one of his pawns, Y/N would do her job diligently, too diligent to the point where she was able to sneak through his and his men’s watch and kept contact with hers, updating them on new tasks to do that aided her and by proxy, the Sangyosei and she was able to do this without causing suspicion.

The strategies she had formulated were all due to her constant exposure to other clans and mob houses, studying their patterns, way of living, connections, and how their operations worked to find the one loop hole in order to flush her targets down the drain of defeat.

The photos she had presented him all this time, photos of which were high in definition and close to the target, where taken from her wraiths, not his men. How they knew where they were? Turned out she had eyes everywhere- a waiter serving meals, a mother and her child by the swings, a farmer in the fields, a ship captain or his crew members, a passing businessman, a politician’s bodyguard.

She had majority of the population in her grasp.

While they worked externally, Y/N did her part from the inside. She climbed up the ranks until she landed into a position where she shared power that equated to his. With new acquisition of power, she now had control over his men, sending a handful or two out to an empty mission only for them to get gunned down, replaced with wraiths disguised in their clothes.

The same wraiths who accompanied Jotaro to the hangar.

And of the Kyuketsuki’s lackeys who were supposed to watch over the armory? Y/N had them dealt with just as the time during the first day they met, their bodies disposed onto a nearby lake, leaving the building devoid of life.

“Now we’re here with you tied up under my mercy,” Y/N drawled out.

“You’ve got loads of conniving bullshit planned out admittedly well for a leader of a small yakuza clan,” he responded with a glare. “Must be tiring for your so-called wraiths to do so much just to do this.”

At that, Y/N tried to stifle it in but failed to keep the laughter from escaping. “Small? Do you really think my crew is just some fiery underdogs who knows what we’re doing?” This time, the wraiths in the dark laughed after her. “You’ve complimented me then insulted me, oh how do I process this?”

“Who the fuck are you then to spit this much confidence to my face?”

Y/N stopped her sadistic glee and faced him with sudden stoicism. She drew a few steps closer and grabbed his chin, making sure he’s facing her head-on as she sat on her heels and said.

“You’re here with the Seiikigumi darling,” she purred, tilting her head with a growing smile. “Lead by none other but yours truly, the Lowlife Princess.”

All this time… The myth spread around the underground about a mysterious clan taking down multiple others before him. The men skilled enough to not be caught by enemies. The leader responsible for running such business. Everything was bared open for Jotaro to experience first hand as their next target.

To that, he cursed to himself for being foolish to trust a random stranger pleading for help.

“As you’ve may or may not known, I’m notorious for shutting down clans as I please by first killing the boss and either letting loose a mass ambush to every known location where their men are or have them join my side… but-” She cupped his cheeks and held them dear. “You may be my first exception~”

“Just shoot me now and spare yourself the effort,” Jotaro hissed but she paid no attention and shushed him.

“Listen to what I have to say darling~” Y/N said with a pout. “Unlike the other fleabags I had to be with, you’re different. You’re competent, stoic, rich, intelligent, and above anything else, pretty handsome for a yakuza boss. Plus, your personal men were so lovely to be with. I’d hate for them to be killed from the get-go.”

“How about you swear loyalty to me and you get to keep the Sangyosei alive and running? You head back as if nothing happened and do what you do, but to imagine you leading your troops with me as your right hand knowing that you're actually mine to control?” She sighed. “Oh it would be such a waste if I were to do what you just said. I do like having my trophy be shiny with power.”

Jotaro growled. “In your fucking dreams.”

Y/N scoffed, standing back up to step back and pull something out from her pocket. “Of course, I’d expect you to be defiant. I know you too well.” She raised her hand to reveal a button. “Standard protocol for stubborn prisoners is usually torture with the usual go-to stabbing, breaking of fingers and/or toes, and other forms of prolonged physical pain.”

“But since I hold you to a higher regard than the previous victims I’ve kept hostage, I have a different form of torture for you~” She gestured for one of her wraiths to gag his mouth with fabric. “Consider yourself lucky~”

With a press of her thumb on the device, Jotaro widened his eyes as his hips jerked and back arched, letting out a strained groan as something stuck to his cock and nipples started to vibrate with much intensity, and he couldn’t do anything about it with his arms and legs stuck in a compromising position.

“I very much enjoyed the nights where you fucked me so hard I couldn’t think straight. Truly, an experience I’d love to be in again. So in your honor, you get to feel what I’ve felt during those times for the whole night.” She pressed the button and his muscles relaxed, sighing with relief.

Y/N slid the gag off his mouth for a moment and said, “So? Will I expect your compliance by dawn, Jotaro-ssi?”

His body still felt the lingering sensations from where the devices were taped on him and he’d expect worse to come, but he wouldn’t back down. He was better than to give his dignity away to a traitor who more or less, deserved to get killed by his rules.

Jotaro responded with a smug smirk, letting her know he’ll indeed be different than her past captives. “Go fuck yourself.”

And just like the first time she stepped into his office, she tongued the inside of her cheek and ordered for the gag to return to his mouth. She turned on her heels, pressing the button to the highest level, causing him to grunt and quiver from the overwhelming sensation of the vibrations.

The door opened for her to step through, but she paused to say one last thing, looking over her shoulder. “I’ll have you know that you’re being recorded as well. Knowing you’re a man with dignity, it be awful for everyone to know how the leader of the dangerous Sangyosei clan is tied like this, captured and shaking. Just something to consider.”

He locked into her gaze with a deathly glare.

“Though I’m proud of my title,” she smirked. “I’m glad you made me the Queen, and you only have yourself to blame.”

And the door closed shut.

#jotaro x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jotaro kujo #mafia au #enemies to lovers #got inspired by an album with the same name sharing vibes with seulgi's mini album songs

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obae-me · 4 years

Text

A Taste Of His Own Medicine- Beel

Word Count: 2464

Description: This demon cold isn’t done with its victims, and despite your best attempts at keeping everyone healthy, you still aren’t done with your caretaking.

Lucifer and Mammon were now fully healthy and back on their feet, Satan not too far behind them. The rest of the household had their fingers crossed that it wouldn’t spread any further. Those hopes were dashed when two people were absent from breakfast one morning. The twins, Beel and Belphie, had never come down from their shared room. For Belphie, this wasn’t something to stop the presses for, he was known for sleeping too late only to get up at the last minute. For Beel, however, to miss any sort of meal? Something had to be wrong.

You offered to go check on them, putting your fork down, your morning breakfast not the same without the two of them.

Lucifer was somehow already out of his chair, gently pushing you back to your seat with a single hand on your shoulder. “Please, let me. If they are sick it’s hard telling how they’ll react. They could just as easily be oversleeping.”

You wanted to protest, but you figured he was probably right. He was their brother first and foremost, you were still just some human living in their home. That fact and the kinder eyes and soft touch he had given you had won you over to his words. He strided away from the table, and with a few long steps, he exited the room.

Asmo was squirming uncomfortably, audibly whining. “I was stupid to think this sickness thing was over! With Beel eating everything down to all your leftovers, it’s no wonder he caught your ugly germs! Then he gave it to Belphie, and next you’ll all give it to me!” He pushed his plate away from him, only having a single bite taken out of his meal.

“You don’t know that they’re sick yet,” Mammon rebutted. “And what do you mean my germs are ugly? Yours are!”

“The likelihood that both of them are ill is high.” Satan sighed, putting down his book he had brought with him. After doing his best to tune them out, it just wasn’t working. He still was weaker than he’d like to be, not to mention drained, but a doctor had confirmed that he was no longer contagious and could continue attending his classes at RAD. “The fridge has been abnormally full and I heard plenty of coughing from Belphie the other day.”

An alarming banging sound came from above their heads, little specks of dust from the ceiling floated down, only just visible in the direct light. As if this proved his theory, Satan gestured towards the noise. His eyelid almost twitching as Lucifer’s booming voice could be heard throughout the house.

This was enough for Asmo to get up from his spot, shaking his head profusely. “I swear if I catch this thing, all of you are absolutely going to have it, you hear me?!” He choked back a fake sob and went to leave the room.

“Oi, where are you going?” Mammon called after him.

“To wash my hands!” The demon of lust slammed the door to the dining hall as you watched more dust sprites dance down from the air. They twirled and spinned right over Levi. His nose twitched and he raised his elbow to cover his face as he let out a sneeze.

Levi, the only one who had been quiet this far, finally let out a long groan. He glanced down at his hands fearfully, as if they had been covered with blood. “No no no no no, I’m sick, I knew it!”

Satan rested his head back in his chair, closing his eyes in annoyance. The ruckus upstairs had gotten worse, his brothers were driving him up the wall already, and he still wasn’t feeling well, maybe he’d skip out on classes today. “Levi, I doubt you’re sick, you never leave your room.”

“Mammon bumped into me in the hallway when he had it, I bet he gave it to me then!”

Now the only three brothers left at the table were fighting. You frowned as your food ended up on the far side of the room along with the table. Unfortunately, this kind of thing happened often, so you excused yourself, expertly dodging a plate as it whirled past. You sat yourself on the stone steps of the entryway, waiting for the multiple battles to die down. There was screaming downstairs, crashing upstairs, the whole house in chaos once again.

“Demons…” You sighed.

***

Lucifer confirmed it, both of them had caught the cold, and he had spent the past hour or so attempting to wrangle both of them into taking some medicine. He had succeeded naturally, but as much as wanted to take care of his little brothers, he had plenty of work to do, and this morning’s event had already set him behind.

He informed you that they were calm now, the medicine lulling and sedating them, so you could see them freely without worry of them tearing you apart. Lucifer still warned you about watching yourself. “You’ve been on the brunt of all of this. I’m concerned for your health, the last thing we need is for you to fall ill as well.” You persuaded him that if you hadn’t gotten sick yet, maybe you were immune to demon colds. He wasn’t fully assured but let you do what you needed regardless.

You figured the best thing to cheer the twins up was with some good homemade soup. With Satan’s assistance, you concocted the most comforting meal you had ever made. You put two steaming bowls on a silver tray and brought it up to the twins room. The door to their bedroom had a golden emblem ingrained in the wood. A moon encircling a sun, resembling the same individual symbols above both their beds. You balanced the tray on your hip for just a moment as you softly rapped your knuckles against the smooth wood. You were pleasantly surprised when someone actually opened the door for a change.

Beel looked down at you, eyes heavy, wearing a faded orange t-shirt and some black shorts. He was already radiating a ton of heat, his shirt sticking to the skin around his torso. His abs and muscles were clearly shown through the fabric, but he didn’t seem to mind. He rubbed one of his eyes with a hand, not even focusing on the soup bowls. “MC, what’re you doing here?”

You lifted up the tray with both hands and presented the meal you made with him. The creamy broth with hearty vegetables and noodles would surely make him feel better. “I made you both soup since you aren’t feeling well.”

He frowned deeply, a look of loss in his eyes. “I’m not hungry, and Belphie’s asleep.” A simple glance past Beel’s body, and you could indeed see a lump in Belphie’s bed, many lumps in fact. There must’ve been plenty new additions to his pillow collection. “I’m sorry you went through the trouble,” Beel sighed, and went to shut the door. You quickly brought your attention back to the demon at hand, shocked and a little hurt that he would shut you out. He had never done that, ever. All of his other brothers, sure, but him? He always had his door and his arms wide open for you at all times. You used your leg to push open the door.

“Beel wait, please, you haven’t eaten all day. How are you going to give your body enough strength to heal if you don’t give it any fuel?” You looked up at him expectantly, worried for him. He had said those same words to you once before when you accidentally skipped out on a meal. He was always aware of what you had eaten and when, making sure you had all the balanced meals your body needed. It was about time you returned the favor.

“But the medicine…” He pressed one hand to his gut, his nose wrinkling up at the mention of food. You noticed him sway a little in place before he gripped the door tightly for balance. The usual glow in his countenance had gone dull, and it broke your heart. He seemed to always be strong, always be positive, always have a smile on his face when it came to food and family. Now, he just seemed out of it, eager to head back to bed with both you and the bowls on the other side of the door. You cursed the tray for occupying both of your hands. You wanted to go wrap him up in your arms, even if he was much bigger than you were.

“The medicine might be why you feel sick to your stomach in the first place, you didn’t eat anything before Lucifer gave it to you, didn’t you?” Your words brought his eyes up from staring at the floor and back to you. Orange strands of his hair were freed from the skin on his forehead as he shook his head to your question. An answer wasn’t quite necessary anyway, from the fighting you heard and Lucifer’s brief description, the older brother forced the medicine down both the twins throats before they had a chance to protest. You lifted the tray back up near Beel’s face, the contents of the bowls sloshed enough to almost drip over the edge. “You might feel better if you eat. Even just a little?”

The look of your begging eyes just peeking up over the top of the tray made Beel shift around on his feet. He looked like he was having an intense internal debate. The door in his hand was creaking open and shut while he decided if he wanted to let you in or not. Your heart sank as he seemed to come to the conclusion to prevent you from entering, the door almost clicking back into place to leave you in an empty hallway. Then he brought it back wide open, his eyes a little watery as he made it up in his mind that he could never shut you out like that. Your chest swelled as he let you in, shutting the door quietly behind you.

The room was almost consumed in pitch darkness as soon as the entrance closed. The only light source seemed to be coming from Beel’s side of the room emanating from the screen of his D.D.D. on his nightstand. It worked well enough as you followed Beel’s silhouette to make your way to his bed. You waited until the demon climbed back onto his mattress, sitting up while he pulled the covers over his legs. Not wanting to speak as to disturb Belphie, you extended one finger from the tray handle and pointed at his bed as a question. He nodded and you sat down right beside his thigh, placing the tray on his lap. His blankets were soft, and with a stroke of your hand, you smoothed out some of the wrinkles.

The sight of the soup made Beel grimace at first, and he looked back up at you with pleading eyes, like he was begging you not to make him eat. Your stern but comforting expression let his shoulders sag down in defeat, and he picked up a golden spoon. You rubbed the side of his arm as the glint of dim light reflected off the utensil. He scooped up some of the soup and put it into his mouth.

For a moment, he looked like he was about to be sick, forcing himself to take a moment to breathe in deeply as you silently comforted him in the dark. Scooting up from your spot on the bed, you got closer to his body, reaching around to rub his back and shoulders as he composed himself. You leaned in, whispering into his ear.

“Is my cooking really that bad?” You frowned, embarrassed, unsure if his reaction was towards your talents in the kitchen or the state of his sickly body. He didn’t answer you. Once the first spoon had settled, he quickly went for another taste. You braced yourself for another terrible reaction. He lowered his head so you couldn’t see his face in the light, the spoon between his fingers was trembling. You attempted to grab the tray, ready to have a word with Satan about his supposed recipe he had given you. Beel covered your hand with his, closing around it and giving it a squeeze.

His head raised back up, small tears making their way down his cheeks. He leaned in towards you, his chin almost resting on your shoulder. “It’s...so delicious. May I...eat it?” You almost let out a chuckle as you squeezed Beel’s hand back in return, your other hand resting on the back of Beel’s head as you gave his hair some gentle strokes. The Demon of Gluttony had just asked you if he was allowed to eat the food you had made specifically for him.

“Yes, Beel, I made it for you.”

He sat up away from you, the happy glow returned to his eyes as he went to work not only downing the bowl for him, but the bowl for Belphie as well. You made a mental note to come take care of the other twin later, right now you were focused on Beel. Sick or not, he still was strong and fast enough to consume both servings in a few minutes. You took the tray and set it on his nightstand.

He already looked so much better, color in his cheeks, more light in his eyes, and a little less swaying. You went to go stand up to leave, but two big arms wrapped around your body to hold you in place. The hot skin on Beel’s cheek pressed against your forehead as he sighed in relief.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

You rested your head against his chest as he held you even tighter. “You’re welcome, Beel. I’ll bring you all the soup you want until you feel better.”

He buried his nose in your hair, his hands gripping your shirt. He leaned back against his headboard, bringing you along with him as you almost laid on top of him. It didn’t seem like he was going to let you go anytime soon. He closed his eyes and with one hand he flipped his D.D.D over so there was nothing but blackness in the room.

He breathed deeply, slowly sliding down until he was fully flat on his bed. You were right on top of him as his chest moved you slightly up and down with each of his slow breaths. He sleepily whispered one last phrase before he drifted into slumber. “You’re much better than any soup in the world.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me beel #obey me beel x mc #obey me beel x reader

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dapandapod · 3 years

Text

Hollow pt 4

It is finally here. After a year, the last chapter of Hollow is here. Prompted by my darling shiny @chaotic-fae-queen and a careful beta read by wonderful @kuripon (both are amazing writers, go check them out!) and Im so happy for them both!

Thank you all for following me through this. I hope you like this last chapter 💖

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Ao3

He is anger and hurt and shuddering breaths and thunder and sadness.

It trembles through him, when Jaskier looks at him with no recognition. Geralt knew, he knew it would happen and still it hurts. It was wise to let Yennefer approach first as he is not sure he would have been able to do it again. If the bard feels any fear, the wind has swept the scent of it away.

Jaskier leads them towards a little hut a short walk from the beach. It is a nice hut, walls tightly fitted and barely letting any of the raging wind inside. The inside is as modest as the outside; there is a bed, a fireplace and a small bookcase. The lute is leaning against the wall in the far corner of the room, seemingly untouched. A table stands in the middle of the room with two chairs. Of course.

Yennefer sits down while Jaskier bustles around to start a pot of tea, and Geralt leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

“May I offer you anything? I didn’t bring much but I'm sure I still have biscuits somewhere.”

Geralt ignores him, eyes locking on a familiar notebook on the bed. It is a bit worse for wear than last he saw it, the pages worn with use. Jaskier always brought that with him, and that seems to be true still.

“So, Gerald was it?” Jaskier says, looking through cabinets and drawers in his hunt for biscuits. “Have you been around these parts before?” Smalltalk. Jaskier is making smalltalk.

Geralt nods silently, still avoiding to look at the bard. He can hear the bard turn to look for a reply, so he nods again, staring holes into the notes.

“Jaskier, would you please sit down with me for a moment?” Yennefer finally asks, snapping Jaskier out of his hosting duties. When Yennefer asks like that, it is better to listen.

“There is something I need to tell you, and I need you to listen and tell me if you recall anything.”

Geralt chances a look at Jaskier, who is swallowing hard and darts a look back at Geralt. Fuck. He aches inside, and he looks away again with a frown.

“What do you remember from before you came to Oxenfurt?” Yennefer asks.

“I- uh…” Jaskier frowns, looking down at the table. “I'm not sure. I remember I hired someone to bring me there, but I can’t recall his name anymore. I think I was attacked on the road, because I have a scar on my side.” As Jaskier talks, he idly touches the side where the scar hides.

Yennefer nods and then looks pointedly at Geralt.

“I took you to Oxenfurt,” Geralt grumbles out. “And it was because of me you were hurt.”

“Geralt!” Yennefer protests, but it’s the truth. Geralt's truth.

“You did? But I don’t recognize you at all!” Jaskier says and Geralt just wants to leave.

“Alright, we will do this another way.” Yennefer sighs, clearly done with Geralt already. “Jaskier, memories were taken from you. Are being taken from you. You and Geralt spent years together, and something is making you forget him.” Jaskier frowns at that, then puts his face in his hands.

A soft moan comes from him, as if he were in pain.

“Do you know what you have forgotten, good and bad, or do you wish to carry on? I need to know if you want to remember.” She asks, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I won’t force it on you. You have a choice.” Yennefer shoots Geralt a glare as she says this.

The seconds tick by, and Geralt is all nerves.

On one hand, he desperately wants Jaskier safe. On the other hand, he desperately wishes to have him close. They don’t go well together, sadly.

“I think I need to know.” Jaskier finally says, and Geralt feels like someone has punched him in the chest. “But I don’t think I can do it today. It is a lot to take in.”

Yennefer and Geralt return to the hut in the morning. The skies have cleared up and the gulls are circling high above them and diving into the wild sea. Jaskier sits outside his door, leaning back against the dirt wall, chewing on a piece of straw. His eyes are closed, head tilted up towards the sun. The breeze is warm and brings a salty tang with it. When they come closer, Jaskier startles.

“Yennefer! I'm so glad to see you! It’s been so long!” He bounces up, arms wide like he is going in for a hug. He doesn’t, thankfully, so Yennefer doesn’t have to do something cruel. It doesn’t bode well that he doesn’t remember yesterday, but at least they are about to do something about it.

Then Jaskier's eyes snag on the witcher behind her, and his eyes widen comically.

“Bringing a bodyguard while visiting little ol' me?” His eyes rake Geralt up and down. Not a modest bone in that one.

“He will be staying outside,” She says with a smirk over her shoulder and Geralt scowls. “Do you have chamomile tea?”

She stalks into his hut without waiting, sitting down in the same chair as yesterday. Jaskier comes inside after her, giving one last look at Geralt before he closes the door, and then he starts the same routine as yesterday, looking for herbs and kettles.

“It really is such a great coincidence to meet you today, Yennefer,” He tells her, banging the same cabinets and drawers. “There is something I need to ask you.”

He puts the water on, takes out mugs for them and finally, finally sits down. There is a short silence, only disturbed by the sound of waves and seabirds from the outside. Yennefer is sure Geralt is listening to every word they say through the door.

“I think,.” Jaskier begins, clutching his empty cup in his hands,” I think there is something wrong with me.” He looks absolutely miserable, twirling the cup back and forth.

“What makes you think that?” She asks, knowing full well.

“I have a notebook,” Jaskier says quietly, like a confession. “It is filled with my handwriting, but I don’t remember a thing.”

Oh.

“Yennefer. I think I was in love.”

Oh fuck.

“May I see it?” She asks. She doesn’t know why she asks, but it is too late now. Jaskier hesitates for a moment, then he stands up, checks on the pot above the fire, and fetches a collection of notes that Geralt was trying to stare to death yesterday.

That explains a thing or two.

“I can’t for the life of me figure out why I don’t remember them. And everything in here is just hints, the shapes of secrets,” he says as Yennefer looks through the worn pages. It’s beautiful and rough, and just as he said, shapes. But Yennefer sees Geralt in them, and he sees the feelings Jaskier talks about.

“I might know what is wrong with you,” she says, closing the book and pushing it over the table. Jaskier takes it and strokes it’s cover lovingly. “But I need to do something to be certain. Jaskier, are you sure you want to know? Because there is so much pain in your past.”

Jaskier takes a moment, thinking it over. When he looks at her again, he looks troubled.

“It feels like someone is raking through my mind, and there are so many things I just can’t wrap my head around.” Jaskier says, looking down at the table. “It is eating me up inside, carving and emptying me out. I need to know.”

The same reply as yesterday then. Good. She can work with that.

Yennefer is strong. Incredibly powerful. Julian can’t wield magic, but he feels the vibrations of it in his chest, in his mind.

“You have a powerful curse on you,” she tells him, sweat forming on her forehead. She makes no attempt to wipe it away, only trying to force her breathing into a more steady rhythm. “It is going to be a bit tricky undo. I need to find what it is centered around.”

The vibrations stop, and he feels strangely empty when it’s gone.

“How?” Julian asks, and Yennefer smirks. She is indeed terrifying when she does that.

“I'm going to ask intrusive questions and you are going to answer them honestly.”

And she does. She asks about everything and nothing. When she asks him about his lute, he is surprised. He has a lute? Since when? Then he looks around the small hut and sees it standing in a corner. Not for the first time, he feels fear’s icy fingers grip around him.

Then she asks him about the songs, the poems, if he remembers where it all comes from. He finds he cannot answer.

“I have a theory,” Yennefer finally says, sipping her tea. “It is a little insulting if it is true, but nonetheless.”

“Let's hear it,” Julian replies, will he finally, finally know what’s happening to him.

“I think the curse makes you forget what you love most.”

Julian gapes. A million things run through his mind. A million things, his minds fingers grasping after them as they slip away.

“I can break it, but it will take some work. Do you want that?” She looks at him, he feels her in his head. He knows she has found his answer, but he says it anyway.

“Yes.”

Geralt hears bits and pieces from the conversation going on inside. He has taken the chair that Jaskier vacated, the sun warming his face in the breeze. Geralt tries not to listen in. Nothing good would come from hearing their conversation.

He focuses on the sea instead. On the gulls cry, on the roar of the waves, on the familiar lull of Jaskiers voice. It is peaceful. Quiet. If it wasn’t for the storm inside him, he would have been content.

Jaskier's eyes on him today, assessing him like he would a stranger in a tavern, it was… sad. Geralt misses his friend. And fears for him too. The scar that already mars his body, the curse, just being with Geralt puts him in danger.

What will happen next? When Jaskier remembers? What if he can’t remember, if Yennefer can’t break it? Geralt is not sure which is worse, but being forgotten hurts. There are many ways to lose a friend. But it stings even now, as he knows that the word friend is not enough. Not near enough.

Geralt has many friends. Many people he cherishes. But with Jaskier, it’s bigger. What he feels when he looks at him, it’s… frightening. He knows the word for it. It is waiting on the tip of his tongue, hidden behind firmly shut lips. The reason he needs to protect Jaskier.

Geralt falls into meditation easily. Their voices through the wall become a backdrop, his mind following the clouds instead of the raging sea. It soothes him to hear Jaskier again. Yennefer is right. It is not his decision to make.

Shame and fear drove him to this.

Geralt is selfish, he knows.

His medallion vibrates, a flash of light and the smell of sulfur breaks him out of meditation.

In the blink of an eye, Geralt is on his feet, sword in hand and heart in his throat. He sees no threat, senses no one else in the area, and slowly straightens again. Right.

So it’s done then.

This is when Jaskier leaves him, memories intact.

Silence reins inside the hut. Geralt doesn’t dare break it. He sits back down, leaning his head back against the wall. He closes his eyes and feels every emotion that rushes through him. All the what-ifs, all the if-nots.

Maybe Geralt should leave. He could leave, right now, and Jaskier wouldn’t get hurt because of him again.

Jaskier comes out of the hut, Yennefer close behind him. Geralt turns his head and looks at them, but says nothing.

Yennefer puts a hand on Jaskier's arm, squeezing it and smiling. Jaskier stands with his back turned, but Geralt thinks he is smiling too.

“I’ll be in town if you need me,” Yennefer says quietly. She turns, opens a portal, and then she is gone.

Once again silence sits between them, thick and heavy.

When Jaskier turns, he is frowning.

For a long moment, they just look at each other. Geralt feels locked in place, the roar of his emotions keeping him firmly stuck.

“Why?” Jaskier asks finally. He looks angry, hurt, disappointed.

“Because I can’t lose you,” Geralt says before he can stop himself. It is the truth anyway.

“So you let me forget?”

“To keep you safe.”

“Geralt. Do you know what the curse was?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt shakes his head. Jaskier presses his lips together into a thin line, another flash of anger behind those blue eyes.

“It made me forget what I love the most. Who I love the most.”

Geralt did….not expect that.

“Vital parts of me, gone. Do you know what it’s like to feel hollow inside, Geralt? To have a piece of yourself so thoroughly missing?” Jaskier's voice is calm, and Geralt can’t stand it.

Geralt swallows thickly and stands up, walking closer to Jaskier.

With one hand he grips Jaskier's chin and angles it up so that they look at each other.

“I do.” Geralt confesses. He is pain and fear and hurt and shuddering breaths and thunder and sadness.

It tears through him, and he lets himself feel it, show it, and Jaskier watches it all.

Jaskier loves him.

Jaskier forgot him.

Geralt let him.

“Why did you let me go?” Jaskier whispers, his own hurt and sadness and shuddering breaths falling from his lips. His hand comes up to wrap around Geralt's wrist, his eyes searching for the something hiding on the tip of Geralt's tongue.

“Because I… Because I love you,” Geralt says quietly, and the something builds. Builds and builds in his chest, so big that he can barely breathe. Geralt lets his other hand come up and cup Jaskier's cheek.

They are standing close together, the wind tearing at their clothes, but they are holding on to each other so tightly.

“Because I can’t stand to see you hurt, not because of someone like me.”

“Geralt-”

“Please let me say this. I think I need to tell you this.”

Jaskier nods and shuts his mouth, his hand on Geralt's wrist warm and grounding, keeping him steady.

“I am selfish, Jaskier.” It feels so good to say his name again. “The only way for me to let you go, I-”

He falters. It is hard to speak. Once again he admires Jaskiers ability to express himself.

“To forget me, to let you go this way was the safest way I knew how. It hurt me, but I could live with that pain if it meant that you are safe.”

Anger and hurt flashes in his eyes again.

“Geralt. She tooks my memories, yes, she made me forget all I love, all that brings me joy. Not just you. I forgot my name. My lute. My songs. My friends. One after another, they all faded away. Do you know how terrifying that is?”

With his words, Geralt grows cold. He didn’t realize it was so bad.

Let it hurt you like it hurt me.

It made perfect sense now. The spell was aimed at him, not Jaskier. And Jaskier has so much love in him.

“And I kept you from those things.” Geralt realizes with a shaky whisper. “I thought I could keep you safe, but I hurt you. Again. I don’t know how to keep you safe.” Jaskier smiles sadly at him and pushes their foreheads together.

“Idiot witcher,” He says, and Geralt closes his eyes. “Life isn’t safe. I am very angry with you for leaving me, Geralt. But I am incredibly happy you came back for me.”

“I almost didn’t.” Geralt confesses with a whisper, because he can’t seem to stop himself from hurting either of them. “I was so convinced that you were safer without me.”

“I probably would be,” Jaskier agrees, and the confirmation rips through him, sharper than any blade. “And you will never stop believing that. But you don’t get to make that choice for me. That choice is mine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I think that is only the third time in my life I have heard you apologise,” Jaskier says, and Geralt can hear the teasing smile in his voice.

“I have something I need to say too, but I think you already know by now.”

Geralt swallows hard again, a roaring need rising in his chest.

“Would you look at me, Geralt?” Jaskier whispers, and he does. Their eyes lock, inches from each other, and Jaskier's grip on his wrist tightens. His eyes are so incredibly blue.

“I love you,” Jaskier tells him, smiling sadly again.

No, that sad smile is not allowed.

Geralt leans forward that last inch, tilting his head, closing that terrible distance.

It is soft and a little awkward. Jaskier kisses him back, lips dry and clinging to each other, but Geralt wants nothing else.

“Don’t ever let me forget again.” Jaskier whispers against his lips.

Geralt can do nothing but promise.

#memory loss #geraskier #light angst #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #dapanda writes #jaskier the bard #yennefer of vengerberg #getting together #difficult conversations

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spidersbane · 3 years

Note

Hello! Can I get MCU, The Hobbit, and The Man From U.N.C.L.E. ship? 💚

Appearance: She/her. 179,5cm tall, rectangle body shape. Fair skin complexion with quite a few birthmarks. Dyed brown with honey-red highlights, shoulder-length, straight hair with bangs. The left eye is a mix of two colors – a smaller portion of (darker) greyish-blue and a larger portion of hazel; while the right eye is just a (lighter) greyish-blue. Heptagon face shape with two dimples on the left cheek and one on the right cheek (only visible while smiling). A gap between the upper front teeth.

Personality (good and bad traits): Ever since I was a kid, I was always quite mature for my age – I identify myself as an old soul. I come off as polite and well-mannered to strangers, yet I tend to keep it to myself by being reserved. But, that’s because I have social anxiety and I’m nervous and shy when meeting/talking to people. The only people I’m comfortable with being with my inner circle – closest friends and family. I am usually more “open” with my friends than with my family. With my friends I can be my “truest-self” – I smile more, I laugh more, I feel more accepted and understood. I am the mom and the fashionista of the group. Don’t get me wrong, I am fiercely protective of my family, especially of my mother and younger sister. But, lately, I’ve been feeling like the “black sheep” of the family, Cinderella who’s been taken advantage of. I express my affection for the people I care about in little, but practical, ways. I can be a little stiff when it comes to open, gushy displays of affection. Others turn to me for help and advice. I’m kind-hearted and generous, always ready to help a person in need. Always have been motherly towards children. Very awkward at keeping small talk (usually with people that I’m not that close with). Absolutely, hate speaking in front of a public, and if I do, because of my nervousness, I tend to mess up my words and/or I practice whatever I’m about to say in my head at first. I appreciate the simplicity and am often most comfortable when I’m not getting too much attention from the world. I am sensitive – both to criticism and to others’ feelings (I sponge up the feelings and moods of people and the environment around me). Have a hard time saying no or expressing my true thoughts, feelings. I get influenced by other people’s opinions/thoughts quite hard (I take everything to the heart), that is why I tend to keep a lot to myself (may come off as a little bit tense, secretive, mysterious). I avoid the harsh reality by daydreaming (almost every day) – imagining myself in situations far from my current circumstances. Sort of like a self-escape. I worry a lot and overthink almost everything. I am easily distracted and my attention span can be quite short. I have an internal struggle between my needs and wants. I can lack focus and be indecisive as a result – when I decide on one route, I am pulled in another direction at the same time (“But what if…”, “on the other hand...”). That is why I’m having a bit of a struggle with deciding what I want to do in the future (career-wise). I am easily overwhelmed by pressure and stress. There is a self-destructive side to me (self-critical, lack of self-confidence) that I’m working on by confronting my fears (coming out of my shell). Don’t like taking pictures, or other people taking pictures of me. I feel most content when I’ve straightened out all the details of everyday life. I have a routine, that I follow by mostly every day, and if something small changes in that routine, I start to have a small internal anxiety attack. Also, I like to do things my own way, like, when it comes to cleaning the house or organizing stuff, etc. I get triggered even if people don’t do the laundry the way I do. I guess you could describe me as a perfectionist, clean/control freak. In triggering situations I can be impulsive, spontaneous, quick to act. Quick flare-ups of anger/annoyance when being provoked on my patience. Even when I’m feeling low, I manage to find humor in life and have fun with whatever I do have. Although I tend to bottle things up, I am an emotional person and my emotions are genuine – I love and care deeply and passionately and wish no ill will upon anyone, yet it hards for me to imagine someone falling in love with me or just liking me.

Hobbies, likes: My hobbies are cleaning, writing (re-writing song lyrics, making small notes, writing stories), listening to any type of music, catching up on my favorite films and TV shows, hanging out with friends, going to the cinema, or the club, being out in nature, reading, traveling. I like history, cooking, fashion magazines (or fashion in general), road trips, spirituality, mythology, books, orange juice, previous decades, cottage-core, dark academia.

Overall: Hufflepuff. INFP-T. Bi-sexual. Pisces-Aries cusp sign. “Looks like could kill you, but is actually a cinnamon roll.” A feminist, support LGBTQ+ community. That’s it, thank you!

hey @pataim ! thanks so much for sending in your request, and thank you so much for your honesty about yourself. like it takes a lot to air yourself out like that, and I admire your strength for it. but also fINALLY a 'Man from U.N.C.L.E' ship! I love that movie and attempt Illya's accent all the time, so this will be fun :)

For the MCU/Marvel - I ship you with Steve Rogers/Captain America !

no one can tell me that Steve doesn’t have a set routine honestly, so let me just get that out there

he seems intimidating at first, esp as a public figure and Avenger, but Steve is nothing but passionate about what he does. so it may clash w your lack of direction, but I could honestly see him envying that a lil bit, like it’s not that you don’t have direction, it’s the fact that you still have a choice in the matter.

your love of history put you in a museum, here you bumped into Steve in a horrible disguise. he struck up the conversation first, and once you got past the whole “holy crap that’s Captain America”, you could actually engage with him in the material and boi was he smitten

he would love to join you when your rewatched your fave things, bc not only is he catching up on more media he missed out on, he’s also getting to know your interests in a way that’s comfortable with you. it avoids all the small talk, but leaves room for discussion after the film/show !

since you tend to sponge up a lot of what other people believe, it’s totally Steve who actually tries to question what you think and what you feel about things. he’s someone who encourages you to have your own opinions and to stay true to those thoughts. so while with him, you can rely on him to learn about yourself, you also gain skills for independence

overall, Steve is super patient, and despite his chaotic job as Cap, he takes comfort in his routine, and would find comfort incorporating a partner’s routine into his life. and as you grow in a relationship with him, he’s patient about teaching you how to be your own person, and helping you learn more about yourself. and while it’s uncomfortable, you grow stronger throughout being with him :)

For The Hobbit - I ship you with Bilbo Baggins !

Bilbo is the definition of introvert, and you're right there with him

not that introversion is ever a bad thing, bc it isn't. but Bilbo is quite content to sit in his little hobbit hole and vibe. like Gandalf had to come find him, ya know. dude disappeared from his own bday.

but anyways. it's not that Bilbo lacks purpose, it's just that he's more content with a quieter life. and it seems like his quiet life would balance you out well! like the Shire is so so chill, and there doesn't really seem to be a lot of pressure on the hobbits to pick a profession. like they just genuinely do what needs to get done.

similarly, Bilbo is the type who seems a little bothered by mushy displays of affection. exhibit a: disappearing from his own bday. like he's much more the type to refill your tea when y'all are reading by the fireplace, which he would totally do w you

it will probs take you a little while to warm up to each, given just how introverted you both are. but when he explains that he has set ways of doing things, then if they're compatible w your ways of doing things, then it doesn't take you long to open up to him

like it'll be a little jarring, but he takes comfort in his routines too. and it'll be an event trying to incorporate both of your ways of life together, but he's willing to do it

overall, yours is a very quaint partnership, built on deep respect for one another. neither of you are going to push the other to do things you aren't into. and y'all just live your best lives together tbh :)

For The Man From U.N.C.L.E - I ship you with Illya Kuryakin !

I love my big Russian spy so much, so this is fun for me

so Illya is the epitome of reserved and generally quiet, so it might take a while to really break down his walls and talk to him. and he's not quite sure what to do with you once you join the team

but, he's playing his game of chess alone, and when you sit down and ask to play with him, he opens up a little more after that

if you're one who get sent out on mission with the team, get ready, bc sometimes those missions require a lot of improvising. but you'd probably be at whatever 'base' was, helping run operations from a more secure place. but Illya and Napoleon improvise a lot, leading to a lot of headaches for you and Waverly

Illya has small bursts of anger, but similar to Gaby, most times, you can intervene and he doesn't get violent. or when he does, he tries to make sure it isn't in front of you. but bc you care so deeply for him, you're there for him in the aftermath. and that's how you show your love for him.

by patching him up if he gets cut, by talking him down when he's angry. and just generally trying to take care of him. and he totally does the same for you, especially if you get sent out into the field

and much to Illya's dismay, Solo doesn't refrain form making jokes about you. but if you can take them in stride, then Solo welcomes you into the team just as well :)

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cryptidsandcatacombs · 3 years

Note

Hey! For the prompt meme, How about some “I know that you love me, but your jealousy is getting out of hand.” for L please! Only if you want to!

Uhuh this my shit This is an L x Reader so this should be fun~<3 I might be channeling my s/i's story into this but

Summary: Reader has been L's assistant for quite some time. They care about each other mutually during the ample time they've been around each other. L is usually good about keeping it subtle and under wraps but something happens that makes him mcfucking lose it. Rating: Pretty adult stuff here. NSFW. No one under the age of 18 may read. Sexual content is contained in this fic.

The evening had droned on with the hours wasting away unknown to L. He's never been one to keep track of the time that well. Once he's into his work, he ignores he forgoes a decent sleep schedule and what could be considered an actual substantial meal for coffee with an embarrassing amount of caffeine and sugar and what could be considered enough candy and pastries to give a horse diabetes. However, this has changed since y/n came along. It isn't that Watari didn't keep L in line when it comes to his diet. Watari has learned how stubborn L can be in the middle of an important case and getting L to do anything is like pulling teeth. But, there was something about y/n that made L listen and made L want to take care of himself a bit better. Watari definitely regards y/n as a miracle worker of sorts. Even L has to admit he has gotten a soft spot for y/n. Something he hasn't felt for anyone in a very, very long time. However, L has to admit his little soft spot has manifested into something of the more romantic variety. He can't help but see them and try his hardest to sound impressive. The blind man has no idea y/n already finds everything about him impressive. The hour was late however and y/n was nowhere to be seen. They had informed him that they had an engagement that evening. Didn't say what though. "Hey y/n, would you come here pl--," he said looking over to find y/n wasn't there. L was so used to having y/n around that he had forgot about this little detail. "Oh yeah, that's right," L mumbled to himself. One of the members of the latest task force he had been working with came over to L's side. "Sir, maybe you didn't know, but y/n has evening plans with a Mr. Enji Tanakada. I figure they have might informed you." "Enji Tanakada..why does that name sound familiar," L mumbled to himself quickly typing away at his computer. L froze when he saw the name come up. The case L had been working on was of the international sex trafficking variety. Dozens upon dozens of people of every gender had gone missing and it linked back to a company L had been tracking. They seemed legit on the surface, but the CEO, Renji Hiroto, had a dark side to him. Enji Tanakada was a certain Hiroto-san's close personal assistant in what L suspected was all matters including the illicit and illegal ones. "Son of a bitch y/n," L growled. He tightened his jaw in frustration. "Of all the stupid, reckless things you could have done." "Sir, I apologize I didn't tell you earlier. They had informed me that you were told and you had given them the approval," the task member had stated flustered and nervous fearing L's current state. "Well, next time inform me will you. Don't make a dumb mistake like that again," said L being snappy. He wasn't ok in this state of mind and any form or reasoning escaped him. "Now, did they tell you where they were going off to," L inquired. "I had overheard a phone coversation y/n was having that lead me to ask about the engagement. Some sort of hotel. Very high end. They both wanted to keep this under wraps," the task member said now regretting not asking for more details in case they needed back up. "And you didn't ask for the location? Your stupidity astounds me," L said not having any patience. L furrowed his brow, pinching the bridge of his nose in contemplation. He was kicking himself for not asking for more details now either, but he figured it was y/n's life and their business is their own. A mistake, he noted, that he will not make twice. "Well, I guess if you want something done right," L said bringing out the tracking device he had kept on him for cases like this. "Hopefully, y/n was wise enough to bring the tracking device I asked them to have on them at all times." L would reason with himself that this wasn't a stalking thing. That was partially a lie. The major part of it is when y/n signed up for this, he had known that the job came with a particular risk factor that could include kidnapping and so on. L has seen enough for the dingy, corrupt criminal underworld to warrant such

paranoia. L's eyes lit up to see that yes it had been on them. "Oh thank heaven y/n you beautiful angel," L muttered as he put the device in his pocket. "Watari, I need you to drive me," L ordered Watari already heading towards the car 3 steps ahead of L. The room Mr. Tanakada had booked super pricey with much leg room to go around in. Y/n wasn't sure whether he was seeking to impress or knew y/n was an agent and looking to throw them off. Either way, it was a lot. Tanakada had set down two champagne glasses. One y/n was wise enough not to drink. Tanakada had raised an eyebrow in concern. "What's a matter," he had asked. "Oh I'm doing a 10 step program. Major drinking problems a few months back," they said coming up with a lie. "Tch I'm sure you can let loose for one night," said Tanakada lifting his own glass in temptation. "So uh Tanakada-san, you said you had an ongoing business proposition to ask of me," y/n said. "Oh yes. There's a bit of travel involved if you're in," he said leaning forward to look y/n in the eye. "Oh, and what makes you think I'm a perfect fit for this business proposition," y/n inquired. "I can tell just by looking at you. I have a certain eye for these things," he said looking y/n up and down. "Well, if you're that sure, I guess I can be onboard," y/n said leaning forward, placing their hand under their chin. "Good. You're a smart one," Tanakada said lifting his glass, "You sure you don't to drink to celebrate. Excellent. Just had to close the deal before getting to this point. "Cheers to new beginnings," y/n said lifting their glass. Just as they were about to drink, the door to the room busted wide open with a violent bang. Y/n stared behind them to find a very angry L breathing heavily. Y/n froze figuring this might happen, but hoping they wouldn't. L snatched the glass and handed it to Watari. "Watari, can you bring this in for testing. If it tests positive for drugs, then we may have a few more questions for you," L said staring down Tanakada the angriest he's ever been. Tanakada snarled. "And just who do you think you are barging into my private room and--" Tanakada froze with the sight of the warrant L had lifted up. "I would watch what you say. You're under suspicious Tanakada-san. Let's just say your place isn't so safe either right now," L said with a voice that wasn't so whimsical as it is during these moments, but very cold and caculated. Y/n could tell he had lost patience. L took his seat in one of the chairs around the room taking a candy bar out of his pocket. "You don't mind if we just hang out til the boys in blue inform me of your dirty laundry now do you," L stated taking a bite of his bar. L had a look in his eye that wasn't of a detective giving you his knowing gaze, but of a predator looking to tear apart its prey. It sent shivers down everyone's spine whether he realized it or not. Hours later, L's task force had come back with evidence. Video tapes upon files upon illegal drugs had been found in Tanakada's home. All of them leading to the missing people. L's eye twitched suspecting the man got off on this job and liked to keep recordings of his capture for a certain Mr. Hiroto. And to think y/n might have been next. The thought of someone jerking off to this happening to y/n made his hand turn white and shake with rage. He snarled at Tanakada as he was being taken away in cuffs. L was kind of hoping merely staring at Tanakada would knock him out cold from the impact. After rigorous hours of y/n giving their testimony to L and the task force, L flopped down on the couch in his room tired. Y/n came in with their pjs as L had asked them to stay the night. "Sorry about that. I just didn't want you to worry cause I thought you wouldn't ap--" Y/n was interrupted by L standing straight up to face them. His posture was usually abysmal so y/n had never seen him with his back straight. Seeing it for the first time was absolutely terrifying. "You're damn right I wouldn't approve. What were you thinking? You could have gotten killed or

taken away somewhere no one would find you. Is that what you want," L said actually raising his voice. Y/n tried to find the answer, but couldn't finding L pretty intimidating right now. L flopped back onto his couch sitting in his usual manner. "Seriously, I'd love to know what your thought process was," L said voice low and raspy. "Well, I figured, if I could get taken by the people you suspect, you could track me having seen that I had gone missing and that would be your evidence right there," y/n stated. L looked over at y/n like they grew a third head. Y/n could be reckless some times, but holy shit this took the cake. "I'm going to have to ask you to repeat that as I don't think I heard you right. You were hoping to get kidnapped," L inquired, voice containing a thinly veiled tone of frustration. "Well, yeah. What faster way to catch the crooks then to catch them in the act yeah," y/n responded. "Of all the stupid..." L growled running his hand down his face. He tapped his fingers on his knees trying to figure out what to say. Y/n stared at L for a long time. Y/n noticed the fall and rise of his shoulders had become sporadic. L was far from composed right now and y/n was close enough to him to know it. Y/n shuffled over to L and sat by him. L turned to y/n noticing the new presence beside him. L shakily reached out for y/n's hand, rubbing it tenderly. "Don't you dare ever do that again. You might work for me, but believe it or not, I care very much for your well being. Too much for you to be doing impulsive actions like this. Do you comprehend what I'm saying? I understand you want to help, but not at the risk of your life. Never at the risk of your life," L said as if he was nearly going to break down. Y/n looked down to see L's hand trembling and gripping y/n's hand. His breath became shaky and anxious. Y/n had never seen L this upset. They were mostly taken aback by how much this had shaken him up. "Ok. I'm sorry," y/n conceded. L nodded slowly, pulling y/n close. Y/n stood frozen at the sudden contact. Y/n slowly held L back. L could feel how exhausted he was as he melted into y/n's arm. The warmth and comfort was far more healing than anything L had ever felt. “I know that you love me, but your jealousy is getting out of hand," y/n said cracking a joke. L gave a stifled laugh at this. Not only cause it was kind of funny to him, but also he didn't want to admit the truth. While what he did to save y/n was out of pure concern, he had to admit. He had grown jealous towards the idea of them being alone together. This dangerous man holding y/n's hand, kissing them, earning y/n's sweet words in his ear. Possibly more. L didn't like to think about it nor did he want to. It was far too unbearable. L decided to retort before this feeling of envy took him to increasingly dark places. "Oh and what about you? I joked about taking a certain lady out on a date for an investigation and you looked like you were going to kill someone." Y/n shoulders stiffened at hearing this. God, they were hoping he didn't notice that. "Now whose jealous," L said stick his tongue out playfully. Y/n blushed and began looking for a way to change the subject. "Hey uuu isn't that movie you wanted to watch on netflix," y/n said picking up L's laptop punching in L's password. "Oh right. I guess a movie night wouldn't be so bad," L said taking the blanket off the edge of his couch, covering both of them. L clapped a couple of times, dimming the lights as the movie started. L may have been joking about y/n being just as much of a jealous creature as he was, but he had a hard time admitting aloud that he was dearly hoping it was true. L truly didn't want to think about anyone having y/n's affection. Having this time they gave him to someone else. He had never been this close, this trusting, with anyone. This in love with anymore. Romance was never a possibility in his mind seeing as he had never been interested in romance. Then here came along y/n. Someone who had effortlessly won his heart and made him fall in love

with them in the most romantic way possible. If anyone were to take any of that that away, take away the person he loved more than life itself, the person he fell in love with, he wasn't sure what he'd do. All he could do was hope y/n had fallen in love with him too.

#fics for others

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sometimesiwrite · 3 years

Text

The Way It Is

Prompt: Fake Dating

Pairing: Lambert & Essi Other Characters: Julian (Jaskier), Eskel/Geralt

Rating: Teen Content Warnings: No Archive Warnings; platonic/queerplatonic dynamics; pressure to engage sexually; coarse language; alcohol/intoxication; modern AU.

Summary: When Essi and Lambert are setup on a blind date, they don’t expect to get along as well as they do. However, when they decide to keep their relationship platonic and non-romantic, they realize they might face some uncomfortable pressure. For the sake of simplicity, they decide to tell people they’re dating, but is it sustainable?

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Essi fidgeted with the bent corner of her cafe menu, looking around at the various styles of local artworks hanging on the walls. She was early by about ten minutes, but that didn’t stop her from checking the pearlescent dial of her watch every thirty seconds. Finally, the bell above the door tinkled and a man walked in. Essi could tell from the way he was looking around that he was there to meet someone—her. The only other people sitting alone in the cafe were working on laptops and tablets; no one else waiting for a date. And this man was most certainly looking for one.

He was handsome in a ruffled sort of way, though he’d clearly put in a bit of effort. His black casual dress shirt and slim light-wash jeans fit his lean frame impeccably, and a subtle quantity of mousse was clearly doing its best to tame his short, scruffy brown hair. Even his bristly beard appeared to have been trimmed recently. Though there was nothing particularly remarkable about his clothing, there was something striking about the way he carried himself, a devil-may-care sort of presence that Essi appreciated. For a blind date, she thought, it certainly could be worse. Allegedly, they knew each other, at least based on his abruptly out-of-the-blue text, and the closer she looked, the more her memory of him crystalized.

A loud ping! emitted from Essi’s phone and the man looked up from his own cellular device, clearly having just texted.

“Uh, Essi? Essi Daven, right?” He took a step towards her and leaned in, pointing to his phone screen.

“Yes,” Essi stood to shake his hand, “hi.”

“Nice to see you again. Lambert.”

They sat down awkwardly, both struggling to find the will for smalltalk.

“So…” Lambert had become keenly interested in a black-and-white digital photograph behind Essi’s shoulder.

“Listen,” Essi could feel the words start to tumble out of her mouth, and it was too late to do anything about it. Lambert raised an eyebrow, “I don’t really know how to say this, so I’m just going to be honest and probably regret it later: I don’t really do this. Dating. I find it strange and uncomfortable and if I’m perfectly honest I think I’d rather die.” She didn’t cringe apologetically, which would have been the expected behaviour to accompany an outpouring of disinterest. Instead she stared at him, wide-eyed, lips slightly pursed as a muscle in her neck twitched, waiting for his response.

Lambert laughed. Genuinely laughed—a joyful release of tension and dread, “Oh, thank Fuck!” Essi blinked in pleasant surprise and watched as Lambert began to relax.

“Excuse me?” Her startlingly blue eyes widened in amusement.

“No, no, I just mean—I would absolutely and one-hundred percent, without a doubt, rather die in a hole than date,” Lambert slotted the edge of the menu under his fingernails and let his eyes wander a little more freely around the cafe.

“So then… why?”

Hm. Direct, frank, amusing lack of filter… the memories were starting to come back from what limited, heavily inebriated, time they’d spent together.

There was something about the straightforwardness of this endearingly odd woman that made Lambert feel infinitely more comfortable. Usually, any kind of interaction with the potential of building mutual interest made him feel like he was playing a game he didn’t know the rules to. The signals, the code words that never meant what they said: having sex on the first date means you’re a slut; not having sex on the third date means you’re a prude; grabbing coffee means this; having dinner means that; if they your arm but don’t invite you up, it means that they’re actually a KGB operative and need to give you the launch codes for a super secret missile...

Fuck that, we have words for a reason. Say what you mean and don’t waste my time. For that reason alone, Essi was already scoring quite well in Lambert’s books.

He shrugged, “You somehow remembered me from the KM Christmas party almost six months ago, and still asked for my number. I figure that at least deserves a coffee and a conversation.”

Essi was bewildered, “I didn’t ask for your number, you texted me.”

Lambert shook his head, “Impossible. No offense, but I absolutely guarantee you I did not.” He produced their short text exchange and scrolled to the top of their conversation:

Hi, is this Lambert? From the KM Christmas party?

You might not remember me, we got talking about

the political situation in Kashmir after about…

Too many drinks. Eeep!

Anyway, I’d love to get a coffee sometime, if

you’re interested.

Sorry, this is Essi Daven.

You called me Goldilocks at one point and

seemed amused XD

Hope you’re well!

Essi snatched Lambert’s phone, shocked and slightly outraged as she reached for her own device, opening her thread with Lambert. The text at the top was not from her, but from the man across from her:

Yeah, hi, this is

Lambert-from-the-KM-Christmas-party.

As it happens, I remember you and our

conversation quite well. Not many folks

happily get into drunken political discussions

You know what, I wouldn’t mind grabbing a

coffee.

Let me know if you’re free in the next couple

weeks!

Lambert gestured emphatically at Essi’s phone screen, “In what world is this an acceptable way to ask someone out?! I wouldn’t have said yes to that!”

“I don’t know,” Essi fired back, “It was straightforward! I found it charming, okay? Is that a crime?”

“No, but I have some serious concerns about your taste in men.”

“Like you’re in such a fine position to judge after the hollow, paltry invitation you accepted—which I absolutely did not write, by the way. I want to make that perfectly clear.”

“Alright, alright, cool your jets, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.” Lambert narrowed his eyes as he passed Essi’s phone back to her, “You didn't fire the first shot, so who texted me from your phone and cleared the history?”

Essi nibbled the inside of her cheek, “I can think of a few.”

“Okay, next question,” Lambert pocketed his phone, “who added you to my contacts before you texted. Because we did not exchange numbers six months ago, but your name was already there when I received it.”

Essi shrugged, “Who has access to your phone?”

“I dunno. Really just Eskel and Geralt and neither of them would—”

“Geralt.”

“Why him?”

Essi’s bright blue eyes turned steely and murderous, “Julian… They’re working together.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Are you telling me that Geralt the-last-thing-I-need Rivia and Julian Alfred these-aren't-my-pants Pankratz think we're so helplessly undateable that they decided to secretly set us up?”

“Eskel doesn’t know me that well; he wouldn’t try to set you up with someone he hadn’t vetted. Who did you talk to first when you got that text from me?”

Lambert’s eyes widened, “Holy shit, they’re working together.”

Essi nodded, a flood of embarrassment warming her cheeks. “Sorry to waste your time. You’re very nice but, um, I should just…” she got up to leave.

“Wh-hey, hold up. I mean, if you wanna go, go, that's fine, but there's something you might want to know first.”

Essi tossed her yellow bangs out of her eyes, “Oh? What's that?”

“This,” Lambert produced an Amex credit card from his breast pocket, “is Geralt's.” The cheeky glint in his eyes was a very convincing argument.

“Fine then. Coffee and a conversation.”

The coffee was hot and decent, and the conversation meandered through the usual topics of music, movies, and television, but also dipped into deeper waters as they grew more comfortable with each other’s company. Of course, it didn’t hurt that neither of them had any stakes in the outcome of this “date”. It made it easier to be frank and open, which in turn led to them quickly enjoying their time together. So much so that coffee turned into lunch, which turned into a long walk in the pleasant weather, which finally landed them outside Essi’s apartment, just around dinner time.

“I have to say, this was actually a pleasant encounter,” she said, turning to face him with a characteristic toss of her bangs.

“Yeah, who’d’ve thought two people forced together by meddling friends would actually find it enjoyable?”

“In light of that,” Essi squared her shoulders and found Lambert’s hazel-brown eyes, “I think it’s fair to say I want to see you again.”

He cringed regretfully and scratched the back of his head, “Ahh, yeah, so… I don’t know if that’s really--”

“Oh, relax,” Essi smirked with a casual touch to Lambert’s forearm. “I don't mean like that. I just mean--you're interesting and fun and, well I don't have many close friends and I feel like we connected well today.”

“Well…”

“I'll make it even simpler: I absolutely, one-hundred percent, am not interested in dating you.”

“Easy there, you know I love it when people get all straightforward with me.”

“I mean it, I just want to be friends,” she toyed back, trying her best to look sultry. It kind of worked.

Lambert bit his lower lip in mock arousal, “Mmm, oh yeah...”

She swayed her shoulders forward and back, doing her best to emulate the seductive actresses and models of the 1950s, “I want to Netflix and chill with a documentary about Soviet propaganda.”

Her last comment prompted a playfully stern look from her companion, “Careful now, you’re wading into actual turn-on territory.”

“You're such a weirdo,” Essi chuckled, giving him an endeared shove. “Seriously, though, would you like to do this again? Friends?”

He nodded sincerely, “Yeah, I think I'd really like that. Just one problem, though.”

“If we claim not to be interested in each other but keep hanging out we’ll never hear the end of it?”

“Bingo.”

Essi hummed thoughtfully and nibbled the inside of her bottom lip, “Well… we could always… pretend?”

***

“Sounds like you two are hitting it off. I’m glad. I know Essi’s been feeling a little isolated between work and being new to the city.” Geralt closed the fridge with his foot and headed towards the sofa, popcorn in one hand, three beers in the other. “I’ll take my card back, by the way.”

Lambert reluctantly handed the Amex back in exchange for a beer and perched on the arm of the sofa. “She’s really something. We’re, uh—yeah, hitting it off is a good word.”

And hitting it off, they were. The last ten days since their first “date” had been more enjoyable than all the dates he’d had in the last year combined. Essi was a fantastic companion: sharp, witty, kind, took no bullshit… They had done absolutely nothing but hang out, and no one had pried them for many details about the nature of their relationship. As far as their friend group was concerned, they were simply dating in the way that most adults dated. This also meant more time to themselves without unwanted interruptions (namely Julian barging in with his spare key to gossip about whatever fires were currently alight on twitter). The first night Lambert had been over, it took Julian all of five minutes to “grab something from the fridge” before parting with a knowing wink.

To her credit and imagination, Essi had expertly fielded her cousin’s initial barrage of questions when she first announced their “involvement.” It wasn’t that she didn’t like her cousin, Essi adored Julian, but she was also the first to admit that the man had no boundaries. What he lacked in that arena, he certainly made up for with opinions, which he was always more than happy to bestow on his younger cousin—usually dating advice, almost always unsolicited. Lambert had a much easier time convincing his side that he and Essi were taking it easy to see where things went. Between Eskel being a consummate gentleman and Geralt having his own Delicate Sensibilities, neither of them had demanded any details.

“As long as you’re both happy and everything’s healthy, that’s all that matters,” Geralt’s partner reiterated, reaching into the bowl on Geralt’s lap.

“Jesus, Eskel, you sound like my Nonna.”

“That's no way to talk to your father,” Geralt smirked into his hand of popcorn

“You're no better,” Lambert took a swig from his beer, lips popping as he lowered the bottle. “I swear, you've turned into a couple of mother hens since you two got together. Quit fussing and watch the game.”

Geralt put his arm around Eskel’s shoulders, “We have gotten a little soft haven’t we?”

Eskel huffed out a laugh, “Probably. Hey, Lambert, don't fuck it up or I'll kick your ass into next week.”

“Thank you. See? Was that so hard?”

“Eh,” Eskel shrugged, helping himself to another handful of popcorn, “I stand by my original statement. Geralt agrees.”

“It's true,” he said between mouthfuls. “Essi’s a good woman. Smart, talented, kind, attractive.”

Eskel cleared his throat.

“Eskel, she is, it's just a statement of fact it doesn't mean that she doesn’t have other…”

“I know it doesn't but I still think you could bear to be a little more…”

“Funny thing,” Lambert interrupted, “I still can’t figure out how this smart, talented, kind, attractive woman’s number programmed itself into my phone. Because I may have been drunk the night we first met, but I have never in my life forgotten a successful number grab. Fess up, fellas. Who was it?”

Eskel’s eyes widened, “Geralt, you didn’t.”

“I… may have… helped Julian gain access to Lambert’s phone.”

“Unbelievable. The betrayal,” Lambert shook his head, eyes still on the game. “If only there was some way to square things up…”

“You charged everything to my company card, didn’t you?”

“First two dates and a fresh pair of pants. Thanks, bud.” Geralt accepted a pat on the back as Eskel began gently but sternly berating him.

Lambert shook his head, smirking as he took another swig of beer, leaving the two lovebirds to bicker amongst themselves. His hip pocket buzzed and he checked his phone: Essi.

Next Wednesday? Pizza and a movie? Still can't believe you haven't seen Ocean’s Eleven.

Yeah, okay, fine. Jeez :P 7:30 my place? I'll provide beverages.

If by ‘beverages’ you mean watery beer…

Fuck off, I'll get the good stuff. Unless you prefer Arbor Mist or some shit.

*gasps* I am offended! (but also it's delicious)

*sigh* do you want me to get you some?

*turtles into hoodie* ...peach or cherry pls?

Haha okay, fine, I'll get a bottle. Can't promise I won't judge you forever, though ;)

It's okay, I deserve it. g2g, see you tomorrow! xox

***

Lambert groaned contentedly, massaging his stomach as he sprawled back on his aging brown sofa, long legs resting habitually on the coffee table. The now-empty pizza box lay abandoned on the far edge, accompanied by four empty beer bottles, and a nearly-empty, unfavourably warm Peach Arbor Mist. The toilet flushed and Essi emerged. Her dark gold hair had long ago been pulled into a messy bun, but her indigo skinny jeans had been replaced by soft-looking grey leggings.

Lambert shook his head in amusement as she settled back next to him on the couch, "I still can't believe you brought your own lounge pants"

"That's because I'm a genius," she quipped, crossing her legs and adjusting the height of her waistband. "Besides, when else will I have the opportunity to actually be comfortable during a date?"

"You took your bra off, too, didn't you?" Lambert asked without missing a beat, eyes never leaving the screen.

"Yup!" Essi confirmed, her sparkling blue eyes glinting with joy as she raised her glass to her lips.

The movie continued as the new friends settled into comfortable silence, their food-drowsy, alcohol-fuzzy states lulling them into a new level of comfortability around each other. Legs fell asleep, positions were adjusted, and shoulders leaned on as the two sought maximum comfort for minimum effort. Soon, an arm was around Essi's shoulder as she settled her cheek on a comfortable spot on Lambert's chest.

"You good?" Lambert asked, only half-irritated at her seemingly endless search for the perfect angle.

"I'm sorry, I thought I'd found a good spot, but..." A few more adjustments of her head and Lambert couldn't take it anymore.

"Jesus, woman, here. Get up for a sec."

Essi sat up as Lambert rearranged himself into a sort of semi-recline with one foot on the floor so his other leg could make room for the tiny pain-in-the-ass that was taking up the rest of the couch space. At his invitation, she wriggled up to the crook of his arm and quickly settled in. Lambert hadn't really thought about what they were doing. Not when Essi had harmlessly leaned against his arm; not when their weight settled into each other; not when Lambert had put his arm around her; not even as he was rearranging to get to where they were now. It had all just... happened. Now, though, with Essi lying still, Lambert felt the weight and warmth of her body shifting gently against his, and it dawned on him that this had the potential to be, well, weird.

But the strange thing was, it didn't feel weird. He'd fucking cuddled before, but there was always a sense of holding back, a tension in his body, being on the lookout for signals from the other person to move onto the Next Step. But now, he actually felt comfortable. There wasn't anything that was supposed to happen after this. Nobody was asking anything of him, no one sending signals he could pick up on but never read properly, no sinking feelings of dread as the other person moved in for a kiss that always felt too soon. Essi was just there, breathing, content. And Lambert was relaxed.

The woman half-on top of him gave a twitch as the credits started to roll, and Lambert let out a private laugh, "Hey, Sleeping Beauty, show's over."

Essi inhaled heavily through her nose and lifted herself up, "Hmmm?"

"Movie's over."

"Did I fall asleep? I'm sorry!" she sat and rubbed her eyes, taking a sip of water to rinse the stale taste from her mouth.

"Eh, only a little." Lambert exited Netflix and tossed the remote back on to the table. "Thought you might wanna start heading home before it gets too late."

Essi nodded in response as she grabbed the pizza box and brought it to the kitchen trash, leaving Lambert to bring the empties.

"You going to finish this atrocity of a beverage?" Lambert waggled the near-empty wine bottle at Essi as he passed on his way to the sink. She merely scowled and shook her head, letting him pour it down the drain 'where it belonged anyway'.

Essi gathered her things and met Lambert by his front door, checking her pockets for her phone and keys one last time before putting her shoes on.

"You okay to walk? Want me to come with?"

It was only 10:30 on a weeknight, and she appreciated the gesture all the same, but it was fine to walk. "Thanks, though. And thank you for tonight. I really needed to get out of the house. I hope, um..."

She trailed off, not sure how to ask. She didn't have the same physical boundaries that most others seemed to have. She was affectionate—often overly so, and it had led to more than a few misunderstandings in the past. She didn't want Lambert to feel as though she had ulterior motives when the simple fact of the matter was that she hadn't really been thinking. Between the instant relief of not actually being on a date and Lambert's easy manner all evening, she'd forgotten that most friendships didn’t generally involve that much physical contact. Would Lambert be confused now? Thinking they were onto something more than friendship? Had he been wanting more? Had she pushed past a point of no return and doomed their friendship?

She inhaled, "Were you comfortable tonight?"

For a split second, Lambert flailed, wondering whether he’d made her uncomfortable. Fuck, she'd seemed comfortable, if anything it felt like he’d been following her lead but maybe...

"I—yeah. That was, I enjoyed that. Were... were you not—?"

Essi smiled and Lambert relaxed again, "No, I was. I wanted to ask in case, that's all. Boundaries and all that. I'll text you when I'm home."

Lambert opened the door and waved her off toward the elevator, "'Kay. 'Night!"

The door clicked shut.

Okay, alright. Fine. Did they cuddle? Yes. Did he enjoy it? Fuck yes. He absolutely didn’t care what anyone might think about how he chose to enjoy his time with other people. However, this didn’t stop him from acknowledging that he was in uncharted friendship territory. More than anything, he was worried about how Essi really felt. Of course, she had no reason not to be honest with him. But the last thing he wanted to do was play fast and loose with someone’s emotions, especially not a friend, and definitely not one as close as Essi. Time would tell. As Lambert’s head hit the pillow, the memory of her warmth and weight settled over him again, and he slept soundly for the first time in months.

***

“Yes Poppet, but have you slept together yet? Honestly, you’ve been dating for almost three weeks now, what could you possibly be waiting for?”

Oh, I don’t know, hell to freeze over? You to mind your own business? Whichever comes first…

“I mean, you clearly adore one another, I’ve never seen you happier. What’s there to lose?’”

Essi scoffed.

Julian placed his hands on her shoulders, “I know it’s been a while for you, but I think you can afford to let yourself go a little, have some fun, hm? Besides, it’s better to find out sooner rather than later if you’re sexually incompatible.”

She took a deep breath, “That’s a very good point, Julian, I’ll think about that.” The dating act was starting to wear a little thin, but it was worth not having to explain to anyone that they weren’t doing exactly what it looked like they were doing.

Julian took time to give his cousin a scrutinizing look, “Well, by the look of things it won’t be long anyway. If you spend all of your time together as tangled up as you were the other night when I came over, it’ll happen sooner rather than later. Just trust your gut, and when in doubt, a little hint never goes awry.”

Needless to say, Essi more or less ignored her cousin’s advice.

As the weeks stretched on, it became evident that they were quickly becoming what most people would consider to be more than friends. The first time they pulled the covers back and climbed into bed, each on their half of the mattress, they were aware that yet another boundary of friendship had been pushed a little farther into the grey zone. But, they woke up the next morning feeling happy, content, and refreshed, and surely there was nothing wrong with two people sharing a comfortable bed. Essi had woken up with crust in her eyes and her nightgown bunched around her waist. Lambert had woken up with morning wood and his hair a mess. Neither of them cared. People wake up in the morning, big deal.

Still, it didn’t stop the questioning that oscillated in the background of Lambert’s mind. Was he unknowingly leading Essi on by allowing her so much closeness without a clearly defined relationship? She’d made her own disinterest clear enough on their first “date”, but feelings change over time. What she’d told him three weeks ago might not be true anymore…

And then there was that soft warm tingle in the middle of his chest every time she lay her head in his lap, every time he ran his fingers through her hair. He knew he wasn't in love. Not that he was an expert, but what was all that "when you know, you know" bullshit if he couldn’t trust his own feelings? He loved her, sure, but more like a... not a sister, that would be weird. He didn't know what like. Whatever. Fuck it. Eskel had said it best three weeks ago: “As long as you're happy and everything’s healthy, that’s all that matters.” Yeah, sure. We’ll stick with that.

As far as Lambert and Essi were concerned, it was what it was, and whatever it was was working… wasn’t it?

***

"Fuckin' finally!"

The door to Essi's apartment clicked closed as the tenant wilted against it, emitting an exhausted groan, "Two. Hours. It took me two hours to get home!" She toed off her penny loafers and abandoned her purse and jacket in a pile by the front door, ignoring the hook three inches to her left. She flopped heavily onto her living room carpet.

"I see you found my spare key," she added, not at all surprised that Lambert had managed to let himself in.

"Yeah, you should probably put that in a less obvious spot," he answered, crossing to the door to hang her things up. "So, I see it's a lying on the floor kind of evening. Can I interest you in a drink to start? Vodka pairs well with the general vibe of Done-With-This-Shit, or we also have tequila if you feel like shouting out the window after a couple shots. Alternatively, there's gin if you want to cry later."

Essi smiled with her eyes closed, feeling her body slowly relaxing into the spongy throw rug underneath her, "You know me so well."

"Vodka?"

"Vodka. Euch, I need to vacuum!," Essi peeled herself to a seated position as clinks and clatters began in the kitchen. She hopped in the shower to rinse the day off, and after a few minutes, there was a knock on the bathroom door.

"Yeeees?" she called, playfully.

"Drink delivery!" Lambert hollered back, "you want this now or later?"

"Why are you so good to me?"

There was a draught of cool air as Lambert opened the bathroom door, "Because you only marginally annoy me. Here," he passed his hand between the shower wall and the opaque fish-scale-patterned curtain. "What's on the docket for tonight?"

Essi groaned, "I don't know, I'm sorry. I used all my brain cells trying not to murder people on the streetcar."

"Okay," Lambert sat on the lidded toilet, "here's the thing. I kinda maybe figured that might be the case so I kinda maybe picked up a few things to make dinner."

A shampoo-piled head poked out from behind the curtain, "You're kidding."

"Nuh-uh."

"I love you."

Lambert chuckled, "Yeah, you're alright. Come on, hurry up, this bathroom's a fuckin’ sauna, and I don’t want the croutons to get soggy." Essi burbled an answer about conditioner and almost done, and Lambert took that as his cue to leave.

Dinner was simple: pan fried Salmon with crispy skin (delicate and buttery on the inside); wax beans in butter (tender and not overcooked); grilled brussels sprouts (just beginning to brown on the edges); and a fresh caesar salad. Everything done to perfection. Full, content, and ready to take their relaxation to the next step they settled themselves on Essi’s blue-grey sectional to begin the arduous task of deciding what to watch.

This was proving particularly difficult with the addition of Essi's caveat that whatever they chose not be "too plot-heavy" which so far had included Masterchef, an interior design show, and program about shepherding in the Orkneys.

"Sweetheart, you gotta give me some slack here. I thought I was on track with the sheep!"

"I know, I'm sorry!" Essi muffled into his shirt sleeve. "I do like animals..." She gasped loudly. "BLUE PLANET."

Lambert stopped the endless scrolling and pushed play as the soothing voice of David Attenborough filled the small living room.

"Hey! Why'd you pause it?"

Lambert was standing up, "If we're going to do this, then we're doing it right. Hang on."

Essi slumped on the sofa as the microwave kicked on. In a few minutes, there was popcorn in their laps and half a bottle of vodka on the table with an ice bucket and lemon wedges in a bowl. Lambert read off his phone screen.

"We will take a drink when:

-David says 'Extraordinary' -David uses a clear understatement such as 'But then again, living in an active volcano is not without its risks' -An animal is being eaten -An animal is mating -There is sped up footage of a plant growing."

"Oh no," Essi lamented, chewing her popcorn ungracefully, "I'm going to get so drunk."

"You got it, Goldilocks. Fill up."

And with that, they were off, taking it slow with their vodka twists, but nonetheless feeling the warm buzz start to tingle under their skin. The box of microwave popcorn was empty by halfway through, and the remains of Essi's exhaustion had almost dispersed entirely.

"Ooh! Understatement! Drink!!"

By ten o’clock, pink-cheeked and feeling boisterous, they had finished with their favourite parts of Blue Planet, or at least the ones they had patience for, and had moved on to Planet Earth II.

“Holy fuck, that’s a lot of snakes—Go, you little fucker! Go!”

The drama on the screen had caused the two to separate from one another while Lambert invested himself in the success of the small lizard. Once the baby Galapagos Iguana had made it to safety, they were once again able to recline without Essi risking an elbow to the face.

She bundled against him, scooting farther between his legs where he leaned in the corner of the sectional. He gathered her hair and draped it over her left shoulder so it wouldn't get caught in his buttons—they'd learned that the hard way. It was still damp, cool to the touch, and smelled like verbena sea salt shampoo. He felt a pulse of affection ripple through him as her weight resettled. He loved that feeling. It had taken some time to get used to it. But now it was high on his list of favourite things. He was happy. And it was healthy. And that really was all that mattered.

Right?

Eskel’s words turned themselves around again in his mind as he wrapped his arm around the front of Essi’s shoulders. He let himself indulge in the texture of her cotton knit nightshirt under his fingers. He relished in the peace of mind at being able to just be there with someone who meant something to him and made absolutely no demands. He let himself relax.

Essi felt a kiss land on the top of her head with a playful, "Muwah!"

She giggled quietly, "Thank you!" Then, upon further thought… Did he want to kiss her? Her mind did a double take as she tried to get on top of the ball.

It wasn’t impossible. They were close after all, and she wasn’t opposed to the idea. She’d recently found herself in a balancing act of realizing she could, in theory, have a deeper kind of feeling for Lambert. Only if, for whatever reason, it turned out he felt the same way. These weren’t the helpless uncontrollable feelings of ride-or-die infatuation; they were malleable, translatable, general feelings of affection and fondness that belonged in any number of different relationships and dynamics.

No sense risking it, she thought. They'd found a liminal space of comfort and safety that she'd never experienced with anyone else before, and if the options were between being a little confused and ruining everything, the choice was an easy one. Then again, if Lambert was developing feelings for her, she didn’t want to miss an opportunity. Shit. Her cheeks burned as she felt the question rise closer to her lips.

"Lambert?" she sat up abruptly and turned to her friend who was still moulded into the corner of the couch, watching the mating rituals of exotic birds with bewildered skepticism.

He jolted at Essi’s sudden movement, "Hello, yes."

Her bright blue eyes were now slightly unfocused, "Do you—? Nevermind." She lay back against him, suddenly skittish..

"Mm, nah, try again," he said, sluggishly. "What’s up, buttercup?"

She swayed a little when she sat up, "Are you happy with what we are?"

Lambert blinked, caught slightly off-guard. The question was easy enough to answer, "Yeah! I mean I don’t know what the fuck we are, but I’m feeling pretty good about it. Shit, why? Are you not? I can be less… whatever. Or… more?" It wasn’t like he was repulsed by the idea of anything else happening between them—in theory it was a possibility. In practice, however...

Essi put an emphatic hand on Lambert’s knee, her glassy eyes going wide, "Do you want more?"

"What? No! I dunno, I—maybe. I haven’t really thought about it. I mean…” Lambert searched Essi’s face for any clue that might help him know how to proceed, “I don’t not want anything else. Fuck, I don’t know! I’m used to doing things the other way around. You know the drill: uncomfortable date, smoosh faces together, have sex, hope feelings fall out. Lather-rinse-repeat. I dunno, do we have to… But what if we try something and...? I don’t wanna lose this."

Essi leaned in close and whispered, “I have an idea.”

"Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?"

"We should kiss."

Lambert nearly swallowed an ice cube, "What?!"

"Just once. Quickly. Just... in case."

"You want me, Lambert, to kiss you, Essi Daven, on the lips."

She nodded sincerely, "For science."

There was a brief pause during which Essi felt the beginnings of panic brewing in her stomach, but by the time she'd finished grappling with potential consequences, Lambert was filling their glasses.

"Alright. Fine. My friend wants me to kiss her for science? Fuck it. I'll drink to that."

They downed their drinks and squared up, knee to knee on the edge of the sofa as they each prepared for their best form—or as good as they could offer given the circumstances. They counted down, 3-2-1...

The kiss was quick, over as soon as it had begun, and both friends pulled away with questioning looks. Inconclusive. They tried again for a little longer, still returning with the same quizzical expressions. They went in for a third time, committing more thoroughly, and for a brief moment it seemed they might have found the semblance of a spark. But it didn’t build. It felt… fine? But no different than if they were lying together on the sofa. It was just another thing they were doing. They each tried to find the right word for what they were feeling, but were soon distracted by the oddness of it all.

Essi started to giggle. Less than a second later, Lambert joined her, and they both pulled away, thoroughly satisfied that their experiment had yielded a strong No on the subject of More. There was a dull thud as Essi slid from the couch and onto the floor, still holding her drink in one hand and laughing hysterically.

Lambert sighed and shook his head, "I think it’s time we got you to bed."

Headaches and dry mouths greeted the two friends the next morning when they blinked awake. Essi’s hair was a cotton-candy mess, having still been slightly damp when Lambert put her to bed. The brunet himself didn’t look much different from his usual scruffy state as he gathered Essi up in an armful of duvet and squeezed tight.

“Gods, Lambert, I still need to breathe,” Essi chuckled, pressing her back into his chest.

“You’ll get over it,” he teased and self-indulgently nuzzled even closer. “You feeling alright? I mean, aside from the hangover. About last night?”

“Oh no,” Essi groaned, “I’m so sorry, Lambert. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just—you kissed my head and then that got me wondering about whether you might want something else, and then I didn’t really know what was happening and—”

“Hey, easy on the rambling, okay, I’m running on limited brain cells, here. Look,” Lambert sat up to find those big blue eyes, now shining brightly, “I have no idea what the fuck this is that we’ve got going on, but I like it fine just the way it is.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And we can keep talking about that. Just, you know, maybe next time something’s on your mind, don’t wait ‘til we’re wasted at 2am?”

“Okay, deal. Can we go get bacon now?”

Lambert chuckled, “Yeah, alright, fine. Make me put pants on, I see how it is.”

Their conversation continued over strong coffee and eggs benedicts. Between their check-in that morning and everything that had happened the previous night, it was well-established that they were perfectly happy where they were. Rather, the main topic of conversation was their growing desire to level with their friends about the nature of their relationship. Eskel and Geralt, they both agreed, would be the easiest—Lambert could tell them that evening. Julian and Essi’s friends on the other hand would be a little more difficult.

Telling Julian together would be best, Essi thought. He was bound to have questions, and if both she and Lambert were there to answer them definitively and explain that no, they didn’t have secret feelings for one another; and yes, they really were just friends and not at all interested in exploring the relationship further thank you very much. Exactly when this discussion with Julian would occur still wasn’t clear. Realistically, they could pick any time, but they decided to wait until Lambert could tell the Old Men. At least then they were assured some less invasive support.

Their reaction was easy enough to predict: Eskel reassuringly repeated his standby “As long as you’re both happy with things…” and twirled a forkful of pasta; Geralt tilted his head thoughtfully and said, “That sounds very nice. I’m happy for you.” Lambert had expected mild disapproval, concern that they were deviating too far from the norm and into a complex dynamic that would be too messy to manage. Instead, Geralt simply said it ‘sounded very nice.’ Lambert smiled into the open refrigerator on his way to get a beer.

The following weekend was Julian’s birthday, and, as per their annual tradition, the group all gathered on Friday evening at the birthday boy’s favourite restaurant—Vegelbud’s. The two decided to tell him the week after his birthday so as not to detract from his Big 3-0. Just one more week, and it would all be in the open. Easy breasy.

The afternoon of the dinner, Eskel and Geralt received a group text: Haven’t told Julian the details yet. Keep the beans to yourselves please (I’m looking at you, @Eskel).

“Why me?” Eskel turned to Geralt over his paperwork, looking a little hurt.

Geralt chuckled, “You have a slight tendency to overshare when you want to be supportive.”

“I do?” He turned on the bar stool to follow his partner on the way upstairs.

“It’s not a bad thing, but…” Geralt sighed, “Lambert has always needed to feel in control of situations like this. He doesn’t want one of us bringing this up before he’s ready to talk about it, especially in a public place, you know how he gets when he feels cornered. And Julian is Essi’s cousin…”

Eskel raised a hand, “You’re right, you’re right. All points taken. Are you showering?”

Geralt smirked as he headed for the stairs, “Come on then.”

Four hours later and halfway through dinner, everything had gone swimmingly. The food had been expectedly delicious, the company and conversation excellent, and so far no one had felt the need to bring up Essi and Lambert’s relationship on any level. That is until Julian got a few drinks under his belt, and decided it was time to document the occasion. Geralt and Eskel were the first victims.

“Aww just look at you two! So in love, so vivacious and full of adoration,” Julian held up his phone as Geralt touched the side of his head to Eskel’s. Beep-Chk! A perfect image of a happy couple was captured and posted to Instagram (#julianturns30 #dinneratvagelbuds #dinnerout #cutiesofinstagram #favoriteotp #gaycouplesofinstagram #livelaughlove…). There were a few more photos of the three of them together, the white chocolate raspberry cheesecake with the candle in it, a group shot taken by the waiter. It was all so close to being over, Essi could practically taste the refuge of the streetcar.

"Come on, lovebirds, show us a smooch!" Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Essi’s stomach lurched and she felt her cheeks start to warm. Lambert’s hand landed gently on her knee under the table, his fingers pressing firmly into her leg as she desperately tried to think of something to say.

"Oh, um..."

Across the table, Geralt and Eskel shared a wordless communication: de-escalate, distract, redirect.

“You’ll want to eat that cheesecake before it gets warm” Geralt offered. “I hear it’s so light it’ll disintegrate in a heartbeat.” Eskel nodded in encouragement, taking a bite of his own.

“I know, I know,” Julian shrugged, “Just a quick one. Say Cheese!”

"Not right now, Julian," Essi tilted her head, her eyes flashing a little.

"Oh come on, Poppet! I know you don't like PDA, it's just one little picture--"

“Don’t call me Poppet.”

Eskel cleared his throat loudly, "Doesn't seem they're that keen on it. Maybe let's try for one another time."

"It's past your one-month-a-versary, let everyone see how in love you are."

"Julian," Geralt growled, "leave it."

Julian covered his mouth in alarm, "I’m so sorry, have you not used that word yet? I didn’t mean anything by it, I just want the world to see how happy my beautiful cousin is!"

“Really Julian, it’s not necessary we—” Essi’s fingernails were starting to dig into Lambert’s palm from the sheer effort of maintaining composure. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to cry or disappear, and with neither of those being an option, it seemed the only possible escape was for them to kiss. They’d done it before. No big deal. It would feel off, but they’d just go back to her place and drink about it after.

“Essi, what’s the matter with you, it’s just one little picture, and we all know you’re not camera-shy. On three, ready? One, two…”

"For fuck's sake we're not dating!"

The table all silently turned their attention to Essi whose cheeks had been turning progressively redder.

“What?” Her cousin laughed incredulously.

“We’re not a couple, Julian. We’re friends. We have been from the beginning, but we didn’t want to tell you because we knew you wouldn’t fucking leave us alone until you could boast about having set us up.”

Lambert shared a brief look with Eskel before lowering his eyes to the tablecloth, his hand still firmly clutched in Essi’s.

Julian gaped, “So, it was all… the cuddling, the laughing, that time I came over and you were asleep on the couch, that was all… a ruse?”

“No, Julian, that was real. I told you, we’re friends.”

“That’s not friends! Since when have friends watched a movie half-on-top of each other?”

“Two people can enjoy each other's company lying flat, Julian,” Eskel’s rich voice interjected across the table and the discussion ground to a halt.

Geralt shrugged with his tea at his lips, “It is the twenty-first century after all.”

Julian’s cornflower blue eyes flitted back and forth between the two friends, utterly bewildered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well what with your complete and utter invasion of privacy for the sake of hooking us up, we didn’t necessarily trust you to believe us,” Essi answered curtly, her hand shaking slightly.

“Poppet, you could have just told me—”

“Stop. Calling me that. And I did tell you, Julian!” she exploded. “I told you the first day I moved here. The first. Day. I said, ‘Julian, I think I want to take a break from dating until I’ve been settled for a year.’ And what did you do? Conspired with my well-meaning former mentor to hook me up with someone I had one good conversation with at a Christmas party. And do you know what? We are happy. But we’re happy in our own way. And maybe our boundaries with each other seem a little strange to you, but we’re not fooling ourselves. We don’t want to kiss each other, we don’t want to have sex, and we don’t want a relationship. And even though it’s absolutely none of your damn business, I’ll tell you anyway: we’ve talked about it. All of it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I don’t think I want to be here anymore.”

The chair legs scraped against the floor of the restaurant as Essi stood to leave, throwing her purse over her shoulder as she went. Lambert looked hesitantly around the table, “I should probably, you know…” He gestured after Essi with his thumb. Eskel gave Lambert the go ahead and he quickly stood to follow his friend out of the restaurant, leaving a very stunned Julian with the other two. He found her perched on the parking barrier in the small lot to the left of the front doors. He called to her and she looked up. Eyes shining, mascara running...

“Ah shit, you know I’m no good with this kind of thing.”

“I’m sorry, Lambert, I just—” she blew her nose, “—he just wouldn’t stop and I didn’t know what to do or say, and it all just came pouring out. I didn’t want it to. The whole time I was begging myself to stop, but I just couldn’t, it’s been bottled up for so long and-and—but it’s his birthday, and—oh, he must feel so awful! I didn’t want to make him feel bad, but—and with Eskel and Geralt there too! They must think I’m horrible! I’m so sorry, Lambert, I didn’t want it to be like this, I wanted to have him over and sit him down and be patient, and instead I’ve just made a complete mess of things. And on his birthday! It’s his birthday, oh God, this is the worst thing I could have done.” Essi choked back bitter tears as she tried desperately to stem the flow with her soggy tissue, “Are you upset with me, Lambert? If you are, I understand. Maybe we should take a break of some kind, you know. Not see each other for a while and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold it right there. Look, I’m probably not going to say any of the right stuff here, but I am absolutely not upset with you. You got that? And for what it’s worth, I don’t think us taking a break from spending time together is going to do anything. Unless you’re looking to punish yourself by taking away a nice thing which, okay. But the fact that you’re willing to ditch me instead of Arbor Mist says something about our friendship I’m not too pleased with.”

Essi turned her wide, pleading, bloodshot eyes to Lambert who cracked a smile, “Jesus, I’m kidding! You adorable fucking mess, c’mere.” He pulled his petite friend into a hug and rested his chin on the top of her head until she quieted down. Neither of them was quite sure how much time had gone by, but Essi found herself wishing it had been long enough for everyone to have gone home so she didn’t have to face whatever aftermath she’d left behind.

Meanwhile, Eskel and Geralt had settled the bill and offered to give Julian a lift back to their place for a night cap, not wanting to leave the evening on such an unsettled note. Essi needed space, and whatever company she needed, Lambert was clearly capable of providing. It was for the best, they suggested, and dissuaded Julian from trying to call her.

“Best to sleep on things,” Geralt said, tucking his card back into his wallet and giving the waiter a nod in gratitude. “We can meet for coffee this weekend and sort this out. For now, just let her cool down.”

Eskel clapped Julian encouragingly on the shoulder as they made their way into the damp summer night air. As they turned into the parking lot, they came face-to-face with Essi and Lambert who had clearly just turned to come back inside. Both cousins looked like they had seen better days: Essi’s eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks blotchy and streaked with inky makeup stains; Julian was perhaps less dishevelled, but the dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced, his boyish features now dejectedly weighted down with remorse and hurt.

“Juian, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

Essi’s cousin raised his hand, “Don’t. Please don’t. Essi, I am so, so sorry. I never meant to push you like that, I didn't realize... you both have been so happy this last month and—"

"It's okay, really, we can talk about this all another time. I'm just so sorry I ruined your birthday. We wanted to sit down with you and talk properly but..." Essi's tears welled up again, and Julian smiled weakly.

"But we both did what we always do?"

She sniffed, nodding emphatically with a tearful, "Yeah.” Julian pulled his cousin into a fond embrace while the other three clumped together to watch the reconciliation.

“Oh! Here,” Essi reached into her purse and pulled out a small, neatly-wrapped box. “Happy birthday!”

Julian opened his gift without a second thought, his face brightening instantly. The box contained a set of premium ultra-light guitar strings and a pair of concert tickets. The perfect gift. Overwhelmed with gratitude, and the atmosphere having been recovered, Julian suggested they all attend brunch together that Sunday morning, his treat by way of apology. Geralt offered to split the bill as a peace offering for his part in the initial setup, and the five made a date.

A fresh start, a promise of spending time together with fewer secrets and, Julian conceded, a few more boundaries.

#witcher rarepair summer bingo #wrsb #Platonic #queerplatonic #no romo #Geralt/Eskel #Essbert #Gereskel #Jaskier #Julian Alfred Pankratz #alcohol #drunkenness #Essi & Lambert #Essi Daven #Lambert

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e-milieeee · 4 years

Text

four ways to say i love you

Summary: It’s the little things—such as waking up at five in the morning to cook for him or lending her a coat when she’s cold—that mean the world.

Because Marinette loves her partner very, very much, and she’s so lucky that he feels the same.

Notes: I was initially going to do one side of the lovesquare, but all sides are equal and therefore have all four sides in this oneshot :) Post reveal, established relationship. A commissioned piece for @mlbforblm—there’s plenty of talented artists and writers who still have slots, so make sure to commission!

Or read on AO3

Adrien is brushing his teeth when Ladybug comes crashing through his window.

He’s a little later than usual today, still decked in his Ladybug pajamas that he’s so unashamedly proud of. He has tied his bangs back with an elastic band, and it sits like a little tree on top of his head, water still dripping from his face.

“And here I was, thinking you’d be ready to eat breakfast,” she tsks playfully.

He grins back. “Sorry, M’lady. Plagg turned my alarm off.”

His smile is, as usual, contagious and in a way that can’t help but to smile back. Ladybug returns to his room and takes out the box from her bag, where she’d painstakingly prepared breakfast for him at the expense of a shattered bowl and spilled jug of milk. It’s still warm to the touch, thankfully, and her slightly rough landing in his room hadn’t messed it up too much.

Adrien joins her a couple minutes later. He has taken the hair tie out, but his bangs fall softly over his eyes like it does when he’s Chat Noir, and Ladybug wants to run her hands over it so to feel just how soft it is. She refrains herself, though, as they both settle cross-legged on the ground where she has laid their breakfast out.

His mouth drops open. “Wow,” Adrien marvels. “When you said you were going to make a feast, I thought you’d fry an egg or two and slap it between some bread and that would’ve been it. This is… can you describe food as gorgeous? Because this is gorgeous.”

“Just because that’s the only thing you can cook doesn’t mean it’s all I’m capable of,” she sniffs, but underneath, Ladybug preens at the compliment.

It’d taken a lot of effort, and Ladybug had collected the ingredients the day before and planned every single detail before going to bed. Then, at five in the morning, she dragged herself out of bed looking and feeling like a zombie just to prepare it.

There are four egg rolls drizzled with homemade sauce, then sprinkled with dried seaweed and sesame. Next to that are neat cuts of green onion cake, made from absolute scratch (she burned herself in the process of deep-frying them). Inside the longest container are fried fish, the ones her mother had prepared the night before. Finally, the leftover mooncakes from the Lunar Festival are in the little box, tied with a red bow. Marinette had spent careful care on that one.

“Miso soup,” Ladybug tells him as she hands him the thermos. “Uh… I think I added too much paste and it’s too salty, so you might not want to drink that one. And…” She opens the last box, where a variety of fresh-cut fruit awaits. “For health reasons, there are fruits. Oh! Also a cheese platter for Plagg, but he’s still asleep, so he can have it later.”

Adrien is positively beaming when she unpacks everything. “You’re the absolute best,” he gushes.

“Couldn’t have you starving on your diet, right?” The nonchalant act can only go so far when she’s grinning so wide. “I’m just hoping it tastes as good as it looks.”

“It’ll taste good just because you made it.” He throws her an exaggerated wink, then immediately reaches for his chopsticks to dig in.

Ladybug watches him take a bite out of green onion cake. He chews, swallows, eyes lighting up. “This is amazing, and I promise I’m not just saying that because my diet’s forced me to eat boiled chicken breasts with no seasoning of the past week.”

She giggles. “Just let me know when you want me to bring you breakfast.”

He places a hand on his chest. “I can’t believe Ladybug’s my personal delivery girl. Do you offer lunch services as well?”

“Only for you, kitty.”

His grin is worth getting up for at 5am.

***

Marinette is freezing at lunch break, but they’ve agreed to eat outside, so she sucks it up. At least the lunch she’d packed for her and Adrien is warm.

It’s late autumn now, and the last couple of leaves cling to otherwise bare trees. She regrets the outfit she picked—cute, but not practical. Especially not in this weather. Looking at Alya bundled up in a hoodie and combat boots, Marinette really regrets the dress.

The noodles in the thermoses are slightly soggy, but the flavour is still there. They chat for a while—about upcoming tests, about projects and the end-of-the-year field trip that is still months away, and everything is lovely. Lovely, but cold.

Halfway through, her noodles emptied, Adrien notices her shivering. “Are you cold?” he asks, eyes growing wide in concern.

Alya halts her conversation with Nino as well. “Wait, Adrien’s right, you’re wearing a dress. I’m chilly and I have a sweater on.”

Marinette, who has refrained from speaking for the past couple of minutes in fear of her teeth chattering too loudly, manages to shake her head.

She gets a scrutinizing look-over by Adrien before he makes his verdict. “This isn’t going to do,” he declares firmly. Then, with one fluid movement, he shrugs his own sweater off and drapes it over her shoulders.

“Oh, he’s smooth,” Alya remarks with a wicked grin.

Smooth, indeed. The jacket is wonderfully warm, and, with a content sigh, Marinette slides her arms through the sleeves. There’s also the faint smell of his cologne and it’s so very him that she can’t help the smile that crosses her face.

He opens an arm in a beckoning gesture and Marinette happily settles into his embrace.

***

Because of his father’s strict rules, it’s much easier for Adrien to come by as Chat Noir after school, which he does almost everyday. Sometimes it’s between his schedules, sometimes it’s after, late into the night when both his father and Nathalie believe he’s asleep. Marinette always listens for the thump on the skylight, an indication that he’s there. The trap door is always left unlocked for him, so she only needs to wait as he climbs down the ladder.

It’s nearing nine when he comes this time. She sits at her desk finishing up the rest of the notes when the door creaks open and Chat Noir climbs down.

“Evening,” he greets. “What—ooh, you brought croissants for me.”

He zeroes in immediately on the food that Marinette had, admittedly, prepared for him. Between Adrien’s schedule and that godawful diet his father insisted putting him on and his time sprinting across rooftops and fighting akumas, it’s a miracle that he hasn’t fainted from lack of nutrition. Marinette has made it her personal goal to make sure he’s properly fed, and she ensures there’s a snack waiting for him every time he drops by.

Half a minute later, he’s munching enthusiastically on the food and Marinette can no longer focus on the rest of her notes. She sorts them out—there’s at least four pages that she’d copied in her neatest handwriting—and then hands them to Chat.

“Here,” she tells him. “You missed both physics and mathematics today because of the photoshoot, so I copied the notes from class and re-organized them. I also added a review section from last class so it’s easier to figure out just where we are since the two lessons are connected. And…” She shuffles through her desk once more, producing the textbook. “It’s on page one hundred and twenty seven to one hundred and twenty nine, if my notes don’t make sense. You can study here, if you’d like. My parents won’t be coming back up anyway, so we should be left alone for now.”

The last time her mother had walked in on her and Chat doing homework together, she’d been understanding. Understanding, but skeptical. It had been awfully hard to explain why Paris’ superhero was lounging in her room like he lived there—and much harder more awkward to explain that Adrien was one hundred supportive of her friendship with Chat after her father had become defensive that he had ulterior motives.

Chat takes the papers from her. “You’re absolutely unbelievable,” he tells her, eyes shining in a way only his can. “Seriously, Marinette, have I ever told you?”

She pretends to count on her fingers. “Let’s see… only about six times today. Why? He shakes his head, a grin pulling at the corner of his lips. In one fluid movement, he leans down to pluck the textbook from her hands and plants a quick kiss against her cheek in the process. “What would I do without you?”

“Go hungry, probably? Start lagging behind in all of your classes?” Marinette tsks at him. “God, you’re right. What would you do without me?”

Chat’s laugh is wonderful and full and happy. “Then aren’t I lucky to have you.”

***

The akuma strikes at midnight.

Marinette, about to change into her pajamas after just sending off Chat Noir, curses to herself. She’s tired and not in the mood to transform, but when Chat comes crashing back down from the skylight urgently, she knows she has no choice.

“Akuma!” he informs her, as if the tremors outside could be caused by anything else. “It’s close to here. We should be able to take this one quickly.”

“Why is Hawkmoth even awake?” Marinette grumbles, but transforms nonetheless. Chat waits patiently on the side, though he’s drawn taut, prepared to scramble into action the moment she’s ready. Then they’re climbing out of the skylight, into the light, where the akuma has begun its rampage. The once-quiet night is ripped apart with panic and terror.

The akuma is relatively easy to deal with: a little girl, apparently inspired by Frozen, is decked in full Elsa, wielding similar powers. She covers the streets in ice, a snowstorm whirling around her, as spirals of icy sculptures rise and fall.

Both she and Chat have icicles hanging off them by the time Ladybug purifies the akuma. Even after she releases the Miraculous Ladybug, the cold from the girl’s powers haven’t seeped out of her bones. Judging from Chat’s chattering teeth, he feels the same.

Despite her watch reading 12:32 and the next day hailing as a school day , they stop by at a 24-hour-cafe for hot chocolate. A couple minutes later, seated on the rooftops warming their chilled hands, they’re huddled against each other and staring out at the gleaming cityscape.

“Another successful take-down, m’lady?”

Ladybug laughs as he raises his cup for a toast, and she obliges and bumps her own against him. Hot chocolate sloshes over the lid, splashing onto her suit. She flicks it off. “What a team we make, huh? Now, if only Hawkmoth would get the memo and stop creating his akumas so late. Why is he even up now? Say, do you think he has a life outside of being Hawkmoth?”

“He probably wants to catch us off guard in the middle of the night. Remember that one time we got woken up at three because there was an akuma attack? Plagg wanted to tape my mouth shut so I couldn’t transform.”

Ladybug groans. “I did really bad on a test the next day because I got three and a half hours of sleep—I fell asleep halfway through the test! It’s— ugh. He’s so annoying.”

“There’s one good thing about midnight akumas, though,” Chat points out.

She takes a sip from the hot chocolate, which, during their conversation, has cooled down to just below scalding. “A good thing?” Ladybug echoes. “Name one good thing, chaton.”

He nudges her shoulder. “You, m’lady. It’s nice just being alone like this without anyone else, right?”

Then, like he’s said nothing out of the ordinary, Chat goes back to drinking his hot chocolate with infuriating nonchalance.

Ladybug finds herself smiling. “You know,” she tells Chat Noir. “You’re ridiculously good at this. Where do you even get the inspiration to say these things?”

“You.”

“You are completely overdoing it.”

“You love me, admit that.”

“No.”

“So you would get up at five in the morning to make breakfast for just anyone, Bugaboo?”

Ladybug relents. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Chat Noir’s laugh rings crystal clear throughout the night, loud against the crisp air. Ladybug wants to trap that laugh and hold it close to herself. She can’t help but treasure it, after all: it’s a sound that chases away worries, soothes fears, and she thinks she's so, so lucky to hear it everyday.

“I love you,” he tells her when his laughter dies down. “Don’t forget that, m’lady.”

Ladybug leans her head on her shoulder. “I love you too,” she replies quietly. “You better not forget it, either.”

Notes: Here’s my fics masterlist!

#miraculous ladybug #ladybug #chat noir #adrien agreste #marinette #marichat #ladrien #ladynoir #adrinette #fluff #post reveal #established relationship #mlbforblm #my writing #mlb fic

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lotusss-flowerbomb · 4 years

Text

We Have A Situation (1)

Bucky x reader

Warnings: implied smut

A/N: I haven’t really been feeling inspired to start anything new, so I’m hoping this will inspire me to finish something I started last year. Let me know how y’all feel about this and if I should continue. 😁

Word Count: 2,051

********

You feel yourself stirring awake. The headache hits you immediately as you roll over with your eyes still closed to climb out of bed. You crash into a hard body on your way out. Lifting your hand, you felt around and suddenly stopped when you felt something cool. Your eyes shot open and so did his.

"Oh my God!" You yelped and struggled to get up. Realizing you were both naked, you grabbed at the sheets and covered yourself leaving Bucky completely naked and exposed. "What are you doing in here?!"

"This is my room," he raised an eyebrow. You finally looked around. Shit, what were you doing in there?

"Oh no, did we — no, we didn't... did we??" You paced back and forth.

Bucky just watched you trying to hold in his laugh. You felt the faint ache between your thighs confirming what you didn't want to believe. How did you get so drunk? You stopped as the memory came flooding back. You looked up at Bucky with wide eyes.

"Thor!" The two of you spoke in unison.

Thor had made the last few rounds of drinks last night. He’d added the strong Asgardian liquor to the drinks since he knows it's the only thing that will give both Steve and Bucky a buzz and you drank from his glass to prove you could handle it. You must have gotten off the elevator on the wrong floor. Bucky's room is right above yours, so it makes sense that you'd think you were at the right door.

You looked around frantically for your clothes. Your head was killing you and Bucky was just sitting there looking all smug. God, you wanted to slap that look right off of his stupid face. He still had not bothered to cover himself and it was getting harder and harder not to stare at him.

"Can I keep these?" He held up your underwear.

You grabbed a pillow and hit him in the face with it snatching the underwear from his hands. He laughed.

"Ugh! I can't believe, of all the people I could have drunk fucked, it had to be you."

"This isn't exactly my proudest moment either, baby doll. But let's not pretend that you didn't enjoy every second of it," he smiled.

Bucky Barnes was the one person on this team that you just couldn't get along with. The two of you fought about everything. He didn't trust you to be on his team for missions and you didn't want to be. You even argued about things you agreed on just for the sake of yelling at each other.

Bucky moved from the bed finally and handed you your bra. You hurried to dress and ran out of the room. Not wanting to risk running into anyone else on the elevator and having to answer questions, you took the stairs down to your room. Once inside, you immediately showered and took medicine for your headache wishing you could go back in time.

That's it! You'd call Stephen and have him turn back time. It's just a few hours, what could it hurt?

********

"Please?!" You spoke into your phone.

"I absolutely will not," Stephen Strange scoffed from the other end of the receiver.

"But I did something really stupid and I need it to have never existed." You whined.

"You know that I cannot and will not turn back time, because you regret a decision that you made."

"Come on, Doc, I thought I was your favorite? Just do me this one favor and I'll never ask for anything ever again."

"You said that last time I opened a portal for you at the pizza shop, so you wouldn't have to drive yourself." You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth to say something, but he cut you off, "I'm very busy. I'm sorry, but you're going to have to figure it out." He hung up.

You flopped down in a kitchen chair. You heard a throat clear and you looked up. You hadn't even noticed Wanda and Natasha sitting there. Your eyes became as big as saucers.

"Would you like to tell us what that was about or do I need to torture you?" Natasha asked.

"Why is torture always your go to, Nat?" Wanda questions.

"What? It's my favorite thing," she shrugged.

You dropped your head to the table and groaned. "I got drunk last night and hadadgkvuikfsexyghujggj," you grumbled out.

"What?" Wanda twisted her face.

"I had sex with Bucky," you said again without looking up.

Dead silence.

You finally peeked up at the two women who sat across from you doing their best not to laugh. You groaned and dropped your head again and they were unable to contain their laughter.

"I'm sorry," Wanda was first to apologize, but continued laughing. You pushed back in the chair ready to make your exit. "No, no, no, please we're sorry!" She bit her lip to force herself to stop. She nudged Natasha with her elbow.

"You have to tell us how it was."

"Nat, no," you said.

"Oh, come on! He has women here all the time. I can't ask them, but I can ask you." she leaned forward. Wanda was tuned in waiting for you to answer. You glanced at the kitchen door. "Don't worry, all of the guys are in the gym."

"Well," you started, "from what I think I remember it was... incredible." You put your hand in your hair and twisted a braid. "I was still sore this morning," you looked down.

"And why are you ashamed? You're both adults." Wanda asked.

"Because it's him. I could accept anybody else," you exaggerated.

"I don't know, good sex is good sex," Nat shrugged.

You glared in her direction and dropped your head once more. This could not be happening.

********

It had been a little over a month since you had slept with Bucky. You both ignored what happened and went on with your lives. Still arguing and still fighting about nothing. Once again, everyone was sitting around drinking after a long mission. The thought of alcohol made you nauseous, but it had been a while since your last drink. You knew to stay away from Thor's stash this time.

Nat handed you a shot of tequila, knowing it's your favorite. When you brought it to your nose you could've vomited on the spot. You sat the glass down.

"You're not taking a shot?" She eyed you curiously.

"Nope, immediate flashback. I'm good on the liquor." you pushed it towards her.

She shrugged and threw it back. Bucky rolled his eyes knowing what you were referring to.

You excused yourself to bed trying to figure out what your deal was. Of course you were scarred for life knowing you'd gotten drunk and slept with Bucky, but it was just sex. You were also able to hold any other liquor just fine, so why did tequila sound like the worst thing in the world right now? You shrugged off your thoughts and went to bed. Your stomach was still rolling from the smell of the tequila.

The next day, you stayed in bed all day. You weren't feeling too well and decided to just lie around and do nothing. Nat brought you some soup hoping it would help settle your stomach a bit. You threw it up shortly after. You stuck with crackers and ginger ale deciding the sickness had to be one of those 24 hour bugs.

You rubbed your belly and froze.

"No," you whispered.

Jumping out of bed you hurried to get dressed, grabbed your purse and ran to the elevator. Smashing the button rapidly as if that would make the car come faster. The doors finally opened, thank goodness no one else was on it. You made your way down to the main floor and rushed outside. A small convenience store wasn't too far away.

You snuck back into the tower undetected and headed to your room. Dumping the contents of the bag, you stared down at the pregnancy tests and bottles of water. You took a deep breath and tried to remember when your last period was and how you hadn't noticed it was extremely late.

After gulping down the water and waiting a few minutes, you went to the bathroom. A three minute wait. This was going to be the longest three minutes of your life.

The timer went off. Snatching up the stick, you stared down at it. Two lines indicated pregnancy. You snatched open another one and headed to the bathroom. Same results. Another, hoping this one would read differently. It didn't.

"What the FUCK?!" You screamed at no one. You sat down and calmed yourself before deciding to go up to Bucky's room. Might as well tell him now.

Heading to his room, you could hear voices the closer you got to his door. A giggle from some random woman. You smiled. At least you'd get to ruin his night.

*Bang! Bang! Bang!*

"Go away!" he yelled from the other side.

"James Buchanan Barnes, you open this door right now!" You yelled back banging again. You heard him stomp over and he snatched the door open.

"Somebody had better be dying," he said. You pushed past him into the room. The woman sitting on his bed jumped to her feet.

You smiled over at her and stuck your hand out for a shake, "Hi, how are you? I'm —"

"I know who you are," she shook your hand, "I'm Kayla."

"Hi, Kayla," you turned to Bucky. "I don't mean to be rude, but she’s gotta go. We need to talk."

"What? Can't this wait?" He scrunched his face up.

"If it could wait I wouldn't be here," you rolled your eyes.

"I drove her here."

"FRIDAY," you called out, "please get an Uber here for Kayla right away." Bucky let out an exasperated sigh, he apologized and walked Kayla to the elevator.

When he got back he slammed the door behind him.

"You know, there's no reason for you to be jealous. You could've just joined the party," he teased.

"Get your head out of your ass, Barnes, this is serious," you pulled a test out of your pocket and tossed it to him. He stared down at it for a few seconds before it registered. He looked at you in horror.

"You're pregnant? By who?"

"Really?" You stared back at him.

"Are you sure? I mean, take another test." You pulled the other two out of your pocket and showed him they all had the same results. He sat down on the bed and ran his hands through his hair. The room was quiet before he finally asked, "What are you gonna do?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know, I mean, it's really up to you, right? Back in my day, this wasn't a question that needed to be asked, because there really was no other option."

You thought about your answer before speaking out loud. "Although it means that I'll be stuck with you until I die, I want to keep it..."

Bucky released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. You couldn't tell if it was a happy release or a sad release. He smiled over at you and nodded. He supported your decision.

********

After visiting Dr. Cho and getting confirmation from a blood test, you asked FRIDAY to have everyone come to the conference room. As you and Bucky walked in, you could hear Sam grumbling.

"What's this about?" Sam asked, seeing you in the doorway. Bucky stuck his hands in his pockets.

"To keep it short," you started, "this idiot knocked me up," you pointed at Bucky.

"Hey! Why do I have to take the blame for all of this?"

"Because it's your fault! Ever heard of pulling out, pretty boy?"

"If I remember correctly, you were in my bed completely naked when I got there. You seduced me." He squinted his eyes and waited for you to back down.

"Sam, you know those cookies you love? I'll make you some if you shoot Bucky right now."

"Say less," he said, standing and reaching for his waist.

"Sam, no!” Nat yelled. “This is gonna be a long 9 months," she sighed.

********

@titty-teetee

@bluestarego

@fandomfavesss

@literaturefeen

@angrythingstarlight

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #Bucky Barnes #Smut #marvel smut #marvel fanfic #Avengers #avengers smut #Lotusss Writes

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harryskiwis · 4 years

Text

New Beginnings

You and Harry start the next chapter of your lives.

(not my gif)

A/N: Hi! Welcome to the first installment to my new series “New Beginning’s!” It’s a fluffy fic, and one I’m excited about because I really love dad!Harry! So lemme know what you think because I’m nervous to post this, but excited to get feedback! Reblogs, likes, asks, and comments are greatly appreciated! xx

Pairing: Harry and Y/N

Warnings: Fluff and light swearing!

Summary: You and Harry have been trying for a baby for a while now, yet every test turns out negative. However, one day, things might get a little more positive for you two.

Today was sunny and humid. Very humid. Typically your favorite kind of LA weather, but today, you just weren’t feeling it. Everything seemed to be against you nowadays- your car broke down this morning while you were on your way to work, the power at your house went out last night, and you and your husband, no matter how many times you try, cannot get pregnant.

It’s all the two of you wanted. You just wanted a baby. And some would say, “You’ve still got time!” And while that is technically true, now is the time you both feel is the best time to welcome a child into your lives. Your job has never been a burden for you- as you’re a bridal consultant at a nice, expensive, chic bridal salon in the center of LA. And your husband- who bless his heart, just wants a baby so bad that he mentions it all the time- is at a standstill with his music career right now since he’s not touring. You tried and tried and tried, but the universe just wouldn’t give in and give you what you wanted.

You were currently sat on your couch watching a rerun of ‘The Big Bang Theory’ on TV. Only, you were half paying attention. You were sipping your favorite tea that Harry had so graciously got for you last night when he was on his way home from the studio, and petting your trusty black cat, Eddie. You were lost in thought thinking of what being a mother would be like- the domestic moments with Harry, buying them cute clothes, getting to celebrate mothers day, and getting to chat with the other moms about motherly things. It’s all you wanted and more.

Your lack of paying attention to the TV and incessant thinking about being a mother had you make the impulsive decision to take another pregnancy test. You knew it’d be negative, but that tiny slimmer of hope still left inside of your heart somewhere kept your whole being optimistic about someday having a positive test.

You quickly ran to your large marble bathroom and opened the cabinet under your side of the sink to pull out the box of pregnancy tests you had bought about a month ago. There was only one left. You knew it was negative- you had no symptoms- but you wanted to take it anyways. Harry was currently at his managers house working on some upcoming plans, so you figured now was the best time to take your spontaneous test.

After quickly grabbing the test and ripping the plastic off of it, you took it. Once you were done, you stared at it for a few moments before placing it face down on the counter and leaving the bathroom. You had to wait at least five minutes for the results to pop up, and you didn’t know if you’d last that long before your stomach fell on the floor from nerves. Even though you’ve done this multiple times, and they’ve come back negative every time, each new test brings nerves and a small sense of hope that maybe you are pregnant. It never checks out, however, and you know this time will be no different.

During the long five minutes waiting for your test results, you pace back and forth your kitchen gnawing your bottom lip raw. Your nerves make you sweat, causing you to have to remove Harry’s “Treat People With Kindness” hoodie from your body as it was doing nothing to quell the fire in your belly. Your socked feet walked back and forth across the kitchen for what felt like twenty years before the timer on your phone went off causing you to jump, slapping a hand to your chest out of being startled.

You let out the breath you were holding from your mini-scare and quickly turned off the timer with shaky hands. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath before slowly making your way back to your bathroom. Once you got there, you stood in front of the test for a moment before picking it up. You had to remind yourself that it would be okay if negative- just like every other time. You’d probably sit there and scold yourself for putting yourself through that madness again, but you’d be okay. You have Harry, and he’s all you need.

Slowly, with your hands shaking, you close your eyes and pick up the test, flipping it around. All it takes is one more deep breath before you’re opening your eyes and facing the ‘negative’ result on the stick. However, what you see makes you fall to the floor below you in complete shock.

It was positive.

A sigh of relief that you had been holding since you took your first test was finally let out, and your eyes instantly welled up with tears. You literally couldn’t believe it. You were pregnant. You had been absolutely certain the test was going to be negative, yet here you were, sitting on the floor of yours and Harry's bathroom, looking at a positive pregnancy test.

You were going to be a mother. You’d get to dress your baby in the cutest clothes, go shopping for said clothes with Anne, you’d be celebrating mothers day, and you’d finally get to hear Harry sing lullaby’s to your baby. Thinking of all of these things made you cry harder. You genuinely never thought you’d get here.

After a few more minutes of sitting and crying, you picked yourself up and began planning on how you were going to tell Harry. You knew you wanted to keep it simple, but your mind was racing with ideas. However, you knew you’d tell him as soon as he got home. He’s been waiting just as long as you have for this news, and he deserved to know right away.

Your newfound happiness inspired you to go to your kitchen and whip up some Fettuccine Chicken Alfredo. Harry says you make the best, but everyone knows Anne holds that rank. Yet, yours is not bad, but you hardly make it anymore, which is why you’re making it now.

As soon as Harry steps into the house, he immediately smells your Alfredo dish. It’s his favorite, and he hadn’t realized how much he had missed it until now. He sets his keys down on the side table by the front door before following the scent of your cooking. Once he gets a little closer, he can hear you humming along to some tune that he can’t quite figure out. He turns the corner and stands in the doorway of the kitchen for a moment watching you prepare your plates while humming and dancing. The sight makes him smile faintly, his love for you surfacing after a long day of work.

When he finally clears his throat to get your attention, you gasp and jump a bit, making him chuckle. You blush, but smile at him nonetheless as you make your way towards him. As you reach him, your hands make their way around his neck, playing with the hair that faintly curls at his nape. His hands settle on your waist and the two of you gaze at each other lovingly.

“Hi baby,” Harry starts, smiling down at you. “Wha’s got you all happy today?” He asks.

Once again, the butterflies and nerves from earlier return to your stomach, as you know you’re about to tell him that he’s going to be a father. You knew he’d be excited, but doubt can be a real bitch sometimes.

“Hi Harry,” you say. “I’m just in a good mood, that’s all. How was work?”

“It was good. Boring, but good. Glad to be home to you,” he says. At this, the two of you lean towards each other to lock in a sweet kiss. It’s the first since this morning, and it makes you feel content.

“I’m happy you’re home,” you say. You leave his grasp and direct him towards the plates of food sat out on the counter. “I made your favorite tonight. Figured you’d want it after a long day.”

“Know me so well baby,” he says as he leans down to press a kiss to your cheek. “Smells s’good.”

You smile and hand him his plate as you take yours. The both of you head over to your dining table and take your seats across from each other to eat.

Throughout dinner, Harry tells you about his day and the plans he and his manager made regarding his career. You tell him about your day at work, and how you arrived late because of your car breaking down, but then tell him that it was overall a good day.

After dinner is done and you and Harry are washing up dishes, you finally decide to tell him about your pregnancy. You’re nervous, but yet still confident, as you know he’ll be over the moon about the news. You bashfully turn your head to him, and blush- staring at him for a few moments. He’s washing up a pot, and he has a furrow in his brows from concentration. Once he’s done, he goes to hand the pot to you to dry it, which you take it, but he notices you’re staring.

“Why’re you starin’ love?” He asks, a smirk painting his perfect lips.

“I need to tell you something,” you say, setting the pot down after it’s been dried.

A frown immediately takes over his features, as the phrase “I need to tell you something” scares him just as much as “We need to talk” does.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, concern in his voice.

“Yes,” you say with a light laugh. “Everything is more than alright, I just need to tell you something.”

He nods, and you begin walking towards your bedroom to go fetch the test when you notice he’s following you.

“Stay there,” you say. “I’ll be right back.” The frown on his perfect features deepens.

Once you arrive in your bedroom and retrieve your test, you take a deep breath and give yourself some encouragement. It’s only Harry- your beloved husband Harry who loves you so much and is going to be absolutely thrilled once you tell him.

You slowly leave the bedroom, walking back to your anxious husband who, in his mind, is worried you’re bringing him divorce papers. Once you see him, frown still very evident in his features, your hands start to shake.

“I have something to give you,” you say, your voice sounding a bit shaky.

“I thought you needed to tell me something,” he says, raising a perfect eyebrow.

“Well, I do. This will tell you everything.”

You walk towards him further, and instruct him to hold out his hands, which he willingly does. He looks down at you expectantly, and you smile up at him.

“Close your eyes,” you say, making him groan in frustration.

Once his eyes are closed, you slowly pull the positive test out from behind your back, and place it in his awaiting hands with your clammy ones. You grab his fingers and maneuver them to where they’re clasping the test in his fists.

You step back from him, hands behind your back, beginning to chew on your lip some more. He still hasn’t opened his eyes back up, awaiting your command to do so.

“You can open your eyes,” you speak out, and it makes him chuckle a bit before opening them.

When his eyes open and his fists unclasp from around the test, he blinks a few times making sure he’s seeing what he’s seeing. As soon as he looks up and his eyes meet yours, you’re crying again.

“Are you-?” he begins. “Are you really-”

He doesn’t finish, as he looks up to see you nodding back at him. Once he sees your confirmation, he too begins crying, and you run towards him, his arms engulfing you in a much needed hug.

“Oh baby,” he says through tears. “Finally, my love.” He presses consistent kisses on your forehead as your tears soak through his shirt.

You hug him the tightest you have in a while, as your life is finally starting to feel complete. You were finally going to be a family, and it made you happier than anything ever has.

“How long have you known?” Harry asks after a few more moments of hugging. You pull apart and look up at him, your eyes puffy from all the crying.

“I found out a couple hours ago. I just took the test spontaneously. I didn’t expect for it to be positive,” you say as you wipe your eyes.

“I’m so happy, darling,” Harry says in a smile. He swiftly picks you up, catching you by surprise, and twirls you around the kitchen. You let out a squeal through smiles as he spun you around. When he set you back down, his lips immediately met yours, and you closed your eyes as you smiled into the kiss.

“We’re going to be parents, Harry,” you whispered up to him once your lips broke apart, your foreheads pressed together.

He closed his eyes and smiled down to you, his cheeks still wet from his tears. “Yes we are, my love.”

fin

#AHHH #ok here it is #PLS PLS PLS PLS let me know what you think i’m so nervous #reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated as this is my first fic here.#send me all the asks too!#much love!#please tell me if there are any mistakes!!#harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles fic #writing #fanfic #fluff #harry styles fluff

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fluffyferalkacchan · 3 years

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BNHA Headcanons #3: Kacchan is afraid of ghosts

Okay so pull Bakugou into a Battle Royal style situation, surrounded by villains? He'd just smirk while going Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight on their ass.

But ask him to watch a ghost movie, or go to a supposedly haunted place? He'd nope his way out faster than Hawks at full speed.

So whenever the Ashido or Kaminari invited him to a ghost stories night, he'd categorically refuse. On every friday night aka. "movie night" he'd ask whoever is inviting him (a member of the Bakusquad or Todoroki, absolutely NOT Deku though) what movies they were supposed to watch (thankfully after the First Movie Night Fiasco, Iida instated some rules which worked in Bakugou's favor) so he'd googled it and knew when it was safe to come.

Besides the ghost types of horror movie, he's actually fine with all the other ones, so no one picked up on the fact that he didn't like ghost movies yet. (He's definitely not asking Deku, because he knew that that nerd would notice the pattern).

Somewhere along the line though Kaminari and Todoroki ended up finding out about it. In totally different circumstances, though.

Kaminari

After coming back from his supplementary classes, Bakugou was dragged to movie and since he was tired he totally forgot to ask about the title. He totally should have though, because it became obvious ten minutes into the movie that this was going to be about ghosts. But at this point it was too late to extract himself from the situation.

Halfway through, Kaminari, who was sitting right next to him on the sofa, noticed that Bakugou had gone strangely stiff and that he was clutching very hard at his knees. One subtle peek at Bakugou tense face and wide-eyes was enough for Kaminari to understand. And he mentally went like "Oh shit."

So like three seconds later he went like "Eeeek!" and splashed the full content of his glasses on Bakugou's face. Predictably, everyone around them went like "?!!!!", while Bakugou was like "What the actual fuck, dunce face?!"

Kaminari made a super sheepish face and explained that he felt something touching his neck from behind so he got super jumpy. So he dragged Bakugou to the bathroom to try to help him clean up, all the while apologizing super loudly.

"Whoa you got strawberry milk in your hair! Hmm... how about you go wash your face, while I take care of your shirt, okay? Just take it off and hand it over, I'm really sorry, Bakugou!"

He was half-expecting the other teen to explode on his face and to bite his head off for telling him what to do, but Bakugou was oddly silent and just studying for a while. Then,

"You did that on purpose. What's your deal, dunce face?"

Busted.

"Hmm.... I just sort of feel guilty 'cause I'm the one who dragged you there to watch the movie? And you must really be super tired 'cause you didn't even ask what we were going to watch and.....now that I think of it you probably ask for that specific reason so -"

"Quit the fucking rambling you sound like the nerd!! Get to the fucking point!"

"Right, so like, I think it's really not cool to force you to watch something if you don't like it? "

"The hell? I was fine!"

"Dude, it was written all over your face that you were sca-"

"I WASN'T SCARED!"

"... that you'd rather go kiss an octopus than be anywhere near that scary ghost lady. Unless you want to go back there?"

"..."

"Yeah that's what I thought. Now give me your shirt."

"Don't fucking expect me to thank you for throwing milk at my face!"

"Yeah no, no, don't. t'was my fault, anyway!"

(Though if sometimes afterwards Bakugou tutored Kaminari with way more implication than usual, it was because that dunce face was even more dumb that usual and absolutely not because he was feeling grateful or anything.)

"But like dude, it's actually kinda unexpected... like you seem the type to go full on "DIE, DIE, DIE" on anyone even on ghosts."

"... ghosts are not corporeal, dumbshit. And they're already fucking dead."

"Oh, right!"

Kaminari thought right there and then, that it actually made a whole lot of sense that Bakugou would be afraid of things that he was defenseless against and couldn't physically fought off.

Todoroki

Todoroki actually figured it out on his own by noticing which movies Bakugou tended to avoid and how he'd react when sometimes someone in the class would talk about that or that rumor. So one day he just came up to Bakugou and bluntly announced. "You are afraid of ghosts."

Bakugou of course blew up a gasket trying to deny it, but then Todoroki just went and showed him a picture of Sadako up close and reaching out like she was about to come out of the screen on his phone and Bakugou swatted at the phone so hard that it nearly fell down on the floor. "GET THAT THING OUTTA MY FACE!"

So yeah, the cat was out of the bag after that.

At some point, class 1A went to an amusement park and they decided to do the haunted maze.

Todoroki, whispering: Do you want to take my at hand?

Bakugou, hissing like a feral cat: Ask me that one more time and I'll fucking punch you in your asymmetrical face!

(Bakugou is fine with haunted attraction, because when he was a kid he once punched a fake ghost in the face and it actually went down, so hunted attraction are (relatively) safe).

The Origin Trio

Actually, I think that Bakugou is not the only one afraid of ghosts. This probably extends to any of the Origin Trio. Like all three of them are super badass and used to harsher and more dangerous situations than any other hero-in-training were at their age (and even than some actual pro heroes)...

But put them in a situation where they might be confronted to a ghost, like an old 'haunted' place? They'd react just like any scared teenagers would and I think it's hilarious.

Like at some point during their week-end internship with Endeavor, they went to an old inn in the middle of nowhere. And Endeavor had left them there alone for the night, while he went ahead to some place he wanted to scope beforehand.

While being served to eat, Midoriya asked the owner if she'd notice anything strange going around here recently. He actually just wanted to know if the suspect they were chasing had escaped there, but she ended up talking about how sometimes at night there would be that weird low scratching noose, like nails dragged on the wall and thumping in room where no one was supposed to be... and cue interjection from other resident of the inn about local tragic deaths and ghost rumors.

Which of course caused Bakugou to turn two shades whiter. But aside from that they determined that it probably wasn't the villain they were looking for and put it out of their mind. Until they heard the exact same scratching the owner had been talking about in the middle of the night... coming from inside their closet.

Midoriya, looking uneasy as they are inching closer to the closet: M-maybe it's just wind...

Bakugou, looking just as uneasy, if not worse: Inside the fucking closet?!

Midoriya, mumbling, mumbling: well, depending on the structure of the inn, there might actually be some places susceptible to air leakage and because of the difference of pressure between the inside and the outside -

Bakugou: Oh for fuck's sake, shut up.

And of course the light chose that exact moment to malfunction. Then a loud banging noise came from the inside of the closet, causing all three of them to flinch and frantically using Todoroki's light and Bakugou's explosion as their source of light.

Midoriya, sweating bullet and voice shaking: I think it wants to come out. See? It's banging and scratching on the closet door as if it is stuck in there... maybe it is too weak to properly move the door yet? Or it has not realized that the door is a sliding -

Bakugou, swatting him on the head: Are you freaking dumb, don't give it ideas on how to escape, damn Deku!

Todoroki, who had kept his poker face until now actually started to feel scared as well: M-Midoriya, what if I burn the whole closet down, while it's in there?

Midoriya: No your fire probably wouldn't be able to affect it. Odds are you'd actually end up burning only the closet door... which would actually allow it to escape....

Todoroki: Oh.... I think I understand now why you're scared of ghost movies, Bakugou. Feeling this helpless is very unpleasant.

Midoriya: Wait, what?! Is that why you're avoiding movie night, Kacchan?

Bakugou: Can we fucking focus on the actual fucking threat trying to break through our closet door?!

Midoriya: But now that I think about it, it's really strange that the door managed to physically restrain it while it's supposed to be incorporeal. Was there some kind of seal on the door? Or is it actually linked to the way it died -

And then the "actual fucking threat trying to break through the closet door" mewled. Yes mewled. Because, turned out it was actually just a cat who had sneaked in at some point and got stuck in there.

(And when Endeavor came back some time later, they unanimously decided not to tell him about what happened.)

So yeah, while Bakugou is the type to be afraid of anything ghost related and avoid them as much as possible, Todoroki is fine with ghost stories and movies and so on, but he would be the type to be really scared when actually confronted to a "possible ghost encounter situation". Midoriya, while still scared shitless, is probably the one who would be the most level-headed in such situation, 'cause he's sort of used to be scared?

About ten years ago.

Kid Deku and Kid Kacchan were exploring some part of the forest and they saw an abandoned shack and Kacchan wanted to go look inside,

Deku: Kacchan, it looks like it's haunted. What if we meet a ghost? Aren't you scared?

Kacchan: I'm not scared! Even if there's a ghost, I'll just use explosion on it!

Deku: But ghost doesn't have bodies. I don't think you can touch or hurt it. But it can touch you.

Kacchan, going super still:...

Deku: So what if we see one, and it tries to hurt us because we went inside its house?

Kacchan, looking at Deku with wide eyes: ....

Deku: Or what if it follows us home and attack us when we're asleep? I don't wanna go in there, Kacchan. Let's go back?

Kacchan, close to tears: F-fine, but that's just 'cause you're scared! I'd totally go on my own!

Deku accidentally being the source of Kacchan's traumas and totally forgetting about it, since time immemorial.

#bnha #bnha headcanons #bakugou katsuki #kacchan & deku #origin trio chaotic energy #kaminari & bakugou friendship #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #todoroki & bakugou dynamics #kaminari is a good friend

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softly-savage-mint-yoongi · 4 years

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Estiferous;

es.tif.er.ous /adjective/ Producing (much) heat. Pairing: Chanyeol x f.reader Rating: angst Words: 3k I spent the entire day in a seething rage about certain events that happened yesterday and so, this was born. In part because the lovely @saebyeog-i just adores him with her entire being and we’ve not stopped talking about everything wrong with the entire situation and how much he deserves to be LOVED.

“Good morning on this fine twenty-ninth of October! It’s a chilly one out there ladies and gentleman. Those gray skies are here to stay today, and it looks like the rain will be steady through most of the evening,” says your partner from his place at the left side of the table. He glances sidelong at you as he turns back to his notes, “Ah, Y/N you’re looking so happy about that!” You blink once, caught in your daydream and stumbling for a response. Looking at the cameras positioned in your direction, you quickly recover, “Even with the chill and the rain I just love this season.” The man beside you gives a flamboyant chuckle that turns your gut, “What do you love about it?” “The colors,” you reply with honesty directed toward your viewers, “They’re like fire. The last reminder of the Summer warmth.” Your co-anchor touches at his in-ear briefly, “Oh, speaking of fire, take a look at this!” He spins his chair to face the large monitor that serves as the background of the studio, “Breaking news of a rogue Evolved out on the streets!” The way he says the words fill you with horror while you force your body to turn. On the screen, a shaky, grainy video- clearly from a cellphone some yards away- shows a disaster scene. Dusty clouds and smoke drift in thick and thin wafts across the screen, and the back of a tall and gangly man comes into view. Immediately your body stiffens as you watch his frame against the backdrop of a burning building. There is no air in your lungs, turned to stone as you absorb the video progression. Whoever filmed this is clearly terrified, by their deep breaths and coughing, high on adrenaline. There’s a barricade of fallen metal. You hear the man taking the video shout in warning, whispering an ‘oh my god’ as a dozen large steel pipes fall on top of the man he’s filming. Some grunting and distressing sounds pass the few seconds it takes for the next moment to come. Through the smoke and dust renewed, something glows faintly at first beneath the pile of metal. Then, between the haze, the video catches a form rising from them, accompanied by the sounds of heavy metal banging against the ground. One glows to a white-hot redness before bending and falling from what appears to be the Evolved’s hand. ‘Holy shit, what kind of monster is he.’ Says the owner of the recording in a choked whisper, clearly filled with absolute terror. You’re still frozen to your chair with your heart thudding loudly in your chest as you watch the rogue man change. Gently at first as if he appears to be lit on fire slowly, until everyone watching realizes he is engulfed in flames of his own making. Oddly, he checks over both shoulders before he takes off into the burning wreckage of the building. The moment the video ends, your co-host whirls back toward the cameras with too much enthusiasm, “Amazing, aren’t they, folks? What a world it has become!” He pauses, looking over some new papers that had been passed to both of you. Looking down at your own, you read the words as they’re said by your partner, “Wow! Looks like this video was taken by someone who had just escaped that building with their life! Then this Evolved showed up right before the fire department.” It makes you jump as another video pops up on the screen behind you, of two children animatedly talking, albeit a bit hoarse. ‘It was amazing, like PSSSKKKHHHHHHAAAAA!’ says the smaller one, throwing his smoke-stained hands up into the air and then coughing. The larger child nods along enthusiastically, ‘Yeah, yeah! This guy came and grabbed the metal stuff in the way and, and-‘ he tries to find the words but needs to stop for a drink of water from an woman that coddles them both on a hospital cot. ‘-and he melted it all away like this. Hhhhnnngggg!-‘ he says, clenching both of his tiny fists and squeezing his face tight to make a bending motion. The smaller one interjects by jumping off of the cot, ‘and then he helped us outside.’ He looks sad for a moment before he shrugs and adds, ‘But I think he was shy ‘cause he wouldn’t come outside with us.’ ‘Go find the firetruck!’ hollers the older boy in a mocking tone. ‘But what do we say to the man, boys?’ the person filming asks, clearly the father. ‘Thank you for saving us!’ the boys chime together with grins too big for their cheeks. You smile to yourself, thinking of the kindness shows to these two children in such a scary situation. It doesn’t last, as hell breaks loose with the very same video of the Evolved across several social media sites. Tweets and Instagram shares and YouTube reaction videos. A few that are impressed to see such power from an Evolved, and a rogue one no less. Although much more common in today’s world than generations past and protected under their agencies, they are still the minority. Most of the buzz around the now viral video is alarming. Hateful spews of threats and accusations that this rogue started the fire himself. Calling him Hellspawn, or the devil himself. Threats and ugly words thrown around out of fear and jealousy. A few demanding the Manifestation Rehabilitation Center arrest him and lock him up so he isn’t a danger to society. “You heard it here first, Channel sixty-one news station. We’ll be right back,” says your co-anchor. He stands from his chair and adjusts his tie, stretching his back, “What an awful creature,” he comments dryly under his breath. It’s enough for you to catch. “What did you just say?” you ask him from your seat, back straight as a spring board. He looks at you blankly, and you decide in that moment that you hate his over-gelled slicked back hair and his tie is the ugliest shade of puke green you’ve ever seen. “Come on now, you know that thing probably started that fire. It’s lucky everyone made it out alive, but what about the damage?” It takes you a moment to consider his words and if he is really standing here in front of you or just a dirty apparition, “Excuse me?” He has the audacity to sneer, “What?” “That ‘creature’ you just called him, is a person! He didn’t ask for that manifestation!” you scream at him. The director and camera coordinators all jump, spilling coffee and turning back toward you at the news table. Even your co-host seems to fumble for words at your outburst, “Are you really so small minded? You’ll jump to that conclusion without all of the information?” He raises his hand at you to speak, “It’s probably true though. Looks better for the news at least. You saw how quickly it we-“ “Stop talking! This is unbelievable! You want to know who the real monsters of this world are?” your anger is rising like acid up the column of your throat, “You are! People who only care about their fucking money or their fucking story or their five fucking seconds of fame!” You spit more words at him before he can make a rebuttal, “You don’t give a shit about the people your stories might hurt? Are you so content with yourself that you don’t have an ounce of shame for the words you say about others? Are you serious right now? Have a bit more compassion for humanity!” He laughs. The man within striking distance of your palm actually laughs. It is as the phrase ‘I don’t care.’ Leaves his lips that your palm meets his cheek. It stings harshly, but your refuse to let it show. And then you walk out, flinging your fistful of notes in the air to scatter about the news studio as your heels carry you sharply across the floor and out the door with your coat and purse. ______________________________ “Unnie, I’m so sorry.” You mumble, wiping at your tears and sniffling to keep them at bay as you walk. On the other end of the line, a woman coos at you, “Don’t worry about it. Are you okay?” You feel terrible. Channel sixty one was the only news station that would even look at your resume straight out of college, and only on Yoora’s word that you were perfect for the junior anchor position that got you in the door. A year later and you were promoted to anchor, gleefully dropping the ‘junior’ title from your work. Thankful to her as always, you feel even worse as you admit that you walked out. “I just quit,” you say in one breath, “Unnie they were talking about Chanyeol.” The other end of the line goes quiet for three seconds, “Where is he?” You sigh, tilting your head to hold your phone between it and your shoulder so you can unlock your car while the other holds your umbrella. “Not sure, but I have a feeling I know. I’ll text you when I find him. I’m just… I’m really sorry after all of the hard work you did for me.” She hums, “Seriously don’t worry about that. We’ll figure it out later. For now, just make sure he’s okay, please.” “On it,” you whisper, ending the call as you situate yourself in your car. With both hands on the wheel, you take off in the direction he’s most likely to be. _________________________________ Nearing late afternoon, you’ve decided there’s only one place left to find him. His G65 is tucked nicely under the foliage of a large tree. It’s the only one left in the parking lot when you pass by the only other car on their way out of the park. You don’t bother checking your phone. He’s not answering anyone’s messages or calls and he’s turned off his location. Luckily, you had your gym bag in your car, intent on having gone today after work. Running shoes and a hoodie are much better for this kind of weather as you hunt for the man you love. It doesn’t take long to find him, since the park is scarce otherwise and he never carries an umbrella. He only ever needs to for the sake of his attire. Pulling open your messages, you text Yoora that he’s safe. You save her the detailed description of your lover; sitting on a bench with his ear pods in and the length of his legs spread out into the walkway, comfortable in his slouched position. He’s wearing his scuffed-up converse, favorite jeans and a large gray hoodie. One hand, large even from a distance, is extended in front of him. You know, even from this distance, he is watching every droplet evaporate from his skin. It is obvious in the Summertime, in the way his body steams as if it were asphalt when he doesn’t care to regulate his external temperature. You smile when he lets the hand drop to his lap and his head lulls back against the bench. He exhales into the chill, a gently puff of humid white from his volcanic chest into the late October breeze. It pulls a quiet laugh from you. His head rolls in your direction, and he is not surprised to see you standing ten yards away. His expression doesn’t change, but you know it isn’t personal. His cheeks, usually high and glowing, have deflated to sag near the down turned corners of his lips. Although he still exudes warmth, it makes your heart feel chilled. As you approach, traces of his tears become evident, pink around his round eyes- staring up at you from his resting spot. “You okay?” you ask, moving your umbrella away from yourself to shield him, “Your clothes are getting soaked.” A dissatisfied hum is your only reply at first, until he sits up and grabs your free hand to tug you closer. In his hold, you let him guide you to stand in front of him so he can comfortably wrap his arms around your hips. Leaning his head into your stomach, Chanyeol sighs. “You know you saved someone, Chanyeol.” You speak the words into the breeze with such conviction, letting your free hand raise to pet his hair. Even without the sun, you are happy to notice you can still see the auburn riding the waves of his chestnut curls. “It doesn’t matter. So many more hate me for starting a fire,” he mumbles into the thickness of your hoodie. Dropping your umbrella, you sink into a squatting position between his knees and revel in the warmth of his skin against your palms where they touch his cheeks, “But you didn’t start that fire.” He groans, voice cracking with stress, “Everyone thinks I did. It’s all that seems to matter. They are making jokes about it, too.” “I don’t think you did.” For the first time, he meets your eyes. Hesitantly, “I know.” He pulls you back up against him, hugging you into his larger frame as if you were his favorite stuffed animal, but commits nothing to the conversation otherwise. “What if you signed with an agency?” you wonder aloud. Sure, conversations had come and gone about it before, when they first began gaining popularity and legitimacy, but Chanyeol had always shrugged it off for the sake of keeping his manifestation private and doing what he wanted. He hadn’t thought that far about it, thinking there would never be a need to expose himself. “Might have to now. Still don’t want to,” he admits. “Why did you risk yourself then?” He lifts his chin and tilts his lips onto yours briefly, “The kids. They wouldn’t have made it.” The words are sobering to you, as they probably were to him. “You did that for them?” He takes a deep breath through his nose. It’s clear he is exhausted, “Would you have?” “Without a second thought.” You wrap his head in your arms again, leaning down to kiss at the crown of his head and inhaling his scent. Smoky and warm, tinged with the fresh rain. “That’s why I think you should find an agency.” Chanyeol hums, squeezing you tighter, “Later. For now, let’s go home and forget about the world for a while.” He kisses you again, “Thank you for finding me.” “I will always come to find you. I just want you to be safe and happy and loved,” you remind him gently, stealing a kiss on your own from his perpetually pouted lips. He takes your hand and stands, giving you the tiniest smile- just an uptick at the corner of his lips- at the happy sound you make when he squeezes your hand in his. It is unusually warm, like always. He takes the umbrella from your other hand, looking every bit like a normal couple trying to shield themselves from the chilled rain under one small piece of fabric. Chanyeol stops a few feet from the gate you came through, and his hand grows hotter in your hold. Enough that he lets you go and subtly moves you one step behind him, “Can I help you?” Lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed a man leaning against the grill of Chanyeol’s Mercedes. He’s wearing a black overcoat, bucket hat, and dark sunglasses. Even without the weather, he is immediately suspicious. The man smiles, lifting himself from the car and uncrossing his arms. He looks down and back up, lips twisted in a smirk. Not quite cocky, but almost. Chanyeol must be able to feel something off because he reacts with one small puff of flame from his breath. You don’t miss the way he spreads his fingers wide with the hand he keeps in front of you, alerted by the way his fingertips become daker pink and then red as if sunburnt. The man approaches gracefully, and something feels a little cold. You watch, transfixed and a little afraid of the way the rain doesn’t quite seem to touch him. “Easy there, let me make this a little more comfortable,” he says mysteriously with a quick look around. You immediately notice the way the sound of rain on your umbrella has stopped. Chanyeol noticed too, and hesitantly moves the umbrella. Above your heads, the rain is not suspended. Upon closer inspection, you can see it is moving around you three instead. “See? Now she won’t get wet, right?” says the man, grinning. He removes his sunglasses and lifts his head to meet Chanyeol’s eyes. “Can I help you?” Chanyeol asks again, a little less polite than before. The man, clearly an Evolved, clears his throat and holds a card out to your boyfriend, “My name is Junmyeon. CEO of JM Enterprise, an agency for Evolved.” Your lover stills, relaxing from his threatening posture. You peek around him, curious, “Wow.” Junmyeon smiles at you, “I’m particularly selective in recruiting myself. I’m looking for a partner whose manifestation is complementary of my own. Natural element types if you will.” “Are there more?” Chanyeol asks quickly, his curiosity getting the better of him. Junmyeon smirks again, a bit lopsided. “A few. Currently, five including myself. I’d like you to make it six.” “I’ll think about it,” Chanyeol agrees a bit reluctantly, clearly finished with the conversation. He takes your hand once more and moves past the CEO toward the cars. “Oh, and miss Y/N?” calls Junmyeon. Both of your heads whip back around to face him. He holds his sunglasses with both hands, sliding them back over his eyes, “We could also use someone of your journalist talent, since you’re looking for employment now that you quit.” You squeak, trying to ignore Chanyeol’s wild eyes boring into the side of your head, “You quit your job?!”

#chanyeol x reader #superpower!au #chanyeol drabble #chanyeol fanfiction #exo fanfiction #chanyeol angst #in true fashion as of late... JUNMYEON WOULD NEVER #i had to because it makes me feel better #and chanyeol is a whole ass softie but protective babie #AN: this is totally unedited sorry not sorry

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 4 years

Text

Dear Mr. Fantasy

Summary: Sometimes when he sleeps, Dean sees flashes of other Dean Winchesters, in other universes. His dreams lately have been filled with himself in a thousand forms, a thousand different versions of what could have been. Dean likes to think that they’re made of the same star stuff, but whatever the cause, he feels the connection.

Warnings: SEASON 15 SPOILERS, bit of angst.

Author’s Note: Inspired by Traffic’s “Dear Mr. Fantasy” and the header image; prompt given by @thoughtslikeaminefield. Love you. @cabin-fever-bang prompt fill. So many thanks to @cracksinthewalls and @there-must-be-a-lock for exceptional editing and motivation. Also love both of you.

Word Count: 2157

ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Dear Mr. Fantasy

Sometimes when he sleeps, Dean sees flashes of other Dean Winchesters, in other universes. His dreams lately have been filled with himself in a thousand forms, a thousand different versions of what could have been. Dean likes to think that they’re made of the same star stuff, but whatever the cause, he feels the connection.

Some have been vastly different (he spent an entire day lost in thought about a female version of himself who was apparently a rodeo queen by day and monster hunter by night).

Some are so similar that the lines between his actual self and the other blur to the point of confusion; is he dreaming about himself or a different Dean who made one different choice twenty years ago?

He can always tell the difference, eventually. A scar in the wrong place, an absent friend or loved one still around or maybe someone gone who shouldn’t be. In one universe, someone neglected Baby (couldn’t have been Dean, had to’ve been Sam) to the point where she pulls slightly to the left.

Dean spends the morning after that dream with a muscle tick in his cheek and a suspicious, side-eyed glare for Sam that he never bothers to explain.

But there’s one particular Other Dean, a favorite one his mind drifts to during rare peaceful moments. Daydreaming when he should be researching, drifting off when a particular song plays on the radio while he’s working on Baby, even washing his hands sometimes will pull him back to those dreams.

Unsurprisingly, his favorite alternate world has no monsters. It’s not that he isn’t aware of monsters in this dimension, that he doesn’t hunt them. No, in this other world, there’s no magic, no terrifying creatures of the night at all. He can feel the lightness of this world, steadiness that comes with not having to worry about whether a vampire is going to make this evening walk your last or a wendigo is going to join you on your camping trip.

Dean has a theory that this world was a test world, one where Chuck decided to just let things evolve as they would with very little interference. Humanity still has its issues: war, plague, famine, politics, streaming services that have lived long enough to become the villain.

But no monsters.

Chuck has left this world more or less alone, and Dean is pretty sure he knows why. In God’s eyes, a world without monsters is stale. This alternate world is a world without supernatural conflict, without apocalypse-level struggle, without life and death and good and evil and all that high-stakes, cursed-destiny crap Chuck literally eats for breakfast.

Boring. This world is a snoozefest for Chuck, and Dean’s okay with that.

In fact, he loves it.

He’s been rooting for this world for a while now. He still dreams of it sometimes, so he knows somewhere deep inside that it’s still around. He knows all the worlds will be destroyed eventually, wiped away by Chuck’s callous cruelty. But this one…

Dean’s not the sentimental type, not really, but if he could send it a greeting card, it’d be that cat from years ago on the motivational poster, clawing onto a tree branch.

Hang in there, baby.

He must have done something right for once, because he drifts off and finds himself back there again. He’s a little older in this universe, and he suspects his other self is in denial about beginning to need glasses. A shame, too. A mechanic’s gotta be able to see what he’s doing, and the eyestrain headaches his other self suffers every night would probably clear up completely if he’d just go get his eyes checked.

But they both know he won’t.

He sees better with his hands than his eyes these days. At forty-eight years old (none of that years young bullshit, either; he’s old, and he’s goddamn earned it), he’s spent his entire life in a garage working on one motor or another, same as his dad before him, and so on.

It’s honest work, clean despite the grease, and Dean himself has used his own money to help put at least a couple of generations of little Winchesters through college or wherever their hearts took them, starting back with his brother. Dean and his dad both feel pride over Dr. Winchester, the history professor. Might not make as much as a mechanic, but he’s happy and settled, and really, what man could ask for more?

The best part of this Dean’s day, the best part of his whole life, is her. He’s known her for nearly three decades and loved her just as long.

He was a twenty-year-old punk, learning his way through the art of motorcycles. He’d spent his life so far working on muscle cars, something he would never completely tire of, but now he was in absolute heaven. Dad’s buddy Danny Elkins had agreed to take Dean on, and Dean had taken to bikes like it was meant to be.

Four months into his new life, Danny’s daughter brought her dad lunch, and, for the first time in his life, Dean wondered whether there might actually be a woman who could pull his attention from an engine for longer than a night or two.

It was more or less instant attraction for the both of them, kinda like the movies that she loved to watch. Unlike those movies, however, there was no disapproving father to contend with or prove himself to.

“She’s a big girl and can crack your skull just as good as me,” he’d told Dean. “Pretty sure she’s settled on ya, so just make sure you’re worth it.”

So that’s what Dean did.

Tonight’s dream finds the older Dean alone in the garage, and the sun is at the tail end of setting. Splashes of indigo and orange paint the horizon, framing her approach in a wash of colors blending into shadows that hold no danger.

“Figured you’d forget dinner tonight, what with your new toy. Thought we could share, and you could show me what you’ve been up to.”

She doesn’t really care about the bikes, the cars, any of it. She only cares that it matters to him, and whatever keeps him running is something she wants to be a part of.

Surrounded by motorcycles in various states of repair and assembly, they speak quietly of their day, sharing the tiny details and separate moments that make up their simple life. She feeds him a bit of meatloaf with her fingers, and he eagerly returns the favor by sucking a smear of mashed potatoes from the corner of her mouth.

She sets the dinner containers aside, twisting to the side to reach for the apple cobbler she made yesterday, when he realizes he can’t stand even that bit of separation between. He’s been without her all day; that’s too much to ask of any man.

“C’mere,” he says.

Dessert forgotten, she settles astride his lap, arms linked around his neck, smiling that serene combination of lips and eyes and cheekbones that makes his heart twist and his groin swell same as the first time she turned them on him thirty-odd years ago.

They’ve sat like this a thousand times, and he prays silently he’ll get at least a thousand more. When they were kids, crazy and hungry for every experience, she’d come into the garage in her little tank top, her tiny shorts showing off her new ink, heels fit to kill someone (how she never broke an ankle has always been a mystery and a miracle, in both Deans’ opinions).

She scrubs a thumb over his bearded jawline, humming deep in her chest. She’s swapped the tiny skirts for jeans, although he thanks his lucky stars every day that fashions have moved from bootcut back to skinny. Harder to get off quick, but damn does he love the lines of her legs in ‘em.

They press foreheads together as an old Traffic song plays over the radio, swaying gently, always in sync.

“Dear Mr. Fantasy, play us a tune,” he half-whispers, half-sings, breath warm on her cool cheek.

“Something to make us all happy,” she answers in kind, eye closed. She slides her nose alongside his, runs her chin over his wiry beard, smiles into his kiss as it buffs her face red.

Perhaps in remembrance of their long-past youth, she’s chosen her smallest tank-top, one she’d normally never wear without at least a button-up over it, and he drops his head to rub his cheeks over the bare skin over her collarbone. Her legs link behind his back, anchoring her as she leans back to allow him more access.

God, what she can still do to him. The salt of her skin, the fragrance of her perfume that he picked out for her on their first anniversary that she’s worn religiously ever since, the silk of her hair that he tangles between fingers that still tremble with eager nerves.

Older Dean and worn-out, monster-plagued Dean sigh together, content down to their bones. This life is it for both of them. She is it. One Dean still can’t believe his amazing luck after all these years, and the other aches at the simple, total happiness he feels honored to witness.

“Dean.”

The older man runs a reverent hand down his wife’s arm, twining his fingers with hers. He kisses her knuckles, a few more crinkles lining his eyes as he smiles.

“Dean, wake up.”

The scene before him begins to fade as she takes his face between her hands, kisses his temples, the spot between his eyes, the corner of his mouth. For just a second, this Dean (the “real” Dean, as Chuck put it) feels those kisses, looks deep into her eyes and feels that warmth and light that she brings to the other man’s life.

I love you, she whispers, and he allows himself to believe for one moment that she’s talking directly to him.

“Dean, come on, Cas has a lead.” Sam’s voice finally breaks the dream wide open, and Dean reluctantly opens his eyes. “We gotta go check it out. Get dressed.”

“Yeah.”

He sits up slowly, feeling each of his forty-one years with an ache that no longer surprises him. He swings his legs over the side of his bed, rests his elbows on his knees, and drops his face in his hands. If he concentrates hard enough, he can still feel her phantom caress, her thumb against his cheekbone, her lips on the corner of his.

I love you.

Dean scrubs at his face with hands that get a little older and a little more scarred every day. Warrior’s hands, a testament to his hunts and battles. If he squints a little (maybe he needs an eye exam, too) he can imagine they’re different sorts of scars: burns from hot engines, cuts and scrapes from tools and every-day hard work rather than knives and punches.

He inhales, gathering strength, putting on his mental armor piece by piece. A knight, riding off to save the world from the devouring dragon. He reaches over and grabs his jeans, sliding them on and standing in a smooth motion that is accompanied by only one or two pops and cracks.

I love you.

Dean doesn’t know how this is all going to end. He knows how he won’t let it end: him against Sammy, to the death and all that biblical Cain and Abel crap. But beyond that, he’s going to fight to save his brother, all of his little patchwork family, because they’re all he has in this world.

He wonders briefly if his other self’s wife exists in this world, or if she’s just an anomaly, a one-time figment of Chuck’s imagination. He’s pretty sure it’s the latter; a man can only get that lucky once in a thousand lifetimes, and that other Dean is that one in a thousand.

This Dean could search a lifetime and never find her. She’s already been found, and maybe, just maybe if he and Sam can get their act together and bring the final beatdown on Chuck in enough time, he can save her. He can’t have her, but he could save her world, leave her safe and happy with his other self.

“Let it be enough,” he says aloud, not sure if he’s coaxing himself or the universe. He says it again, one more time for luck.

It has to be enough.

…

“Dear Mr. Fantasy” by Traffic

Dear Mister Fantasy, play us a tune, Something to make us all happy. Do anything, take us out of this gloom. Sing a song, play guitar, Make it snappy. You are the one who can make us all laugh, But doing that you break out in tears. Please don't be sad if it was a straight mind you had. We wouldn't have known you all these years.

#cabin fever bang prompt fill #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural #SPN #spn fic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #dean winchester #chuck #angst #what if #somewhere out there #the one #dear mr. fantasy #let it be enough #Sam Winchester

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lochrannn · 3 years

Link

Warnings: Sexual Content (M Rating)

Characters: Lila Pitts; Diego Hargreeves; Allison Hargreeves; Klaus Hargreeves; Ben Hargreeves

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Roommates AU; Fake Marriage; Slow Burn; Mutual Pining; Emotional H/C

Chapter 8/9

They’ve planned to head out early in the morning, because they will have to drive for a couple of hours to get to the more scenic part of the coast that Diego’s never actually been to himself. So the evening before he stops by Ben’s to borrow his camera. To his annoyance Klaus is also there.

Diego loves Klaus and he’s usually glad to see him and always relieved to see him in a safe and relatively normal place. He hasn’t forgotten the years of crawling along the city’s streets in his car in the dead of night, looking for Klaus because nobody had heard from him in days, or picking him up from shady ass bars, high as a kite.

But Klaus, despite the fact that he seems a little spaced out half the time, has always had an unfailing read on him and Diego really doesn’t want to get into it with Klaus what his plans are for tomorrow and why he needs Ben’s camera. Dealing with his brother’s shenanigans at the wedding was bad enough.

“So you’re taking your fake wife on a fake honeymoon beach trip to take some romantic pictures and you have absolutely no ulterior motive, you say?” Klaus asks, sipping on a large mug filled with a very fragrant and spicy smelling tea in Ben’s living room.

Diego’s leaning against the windowsill, arms crossed defensively, while Ben is over by the dining table unpacking his camera equipment and trying to pare down the amount of stuff he’s going to send Diego out with and very pointedly trying to look like he’s not listening. “First off, Lila’s my actual wife, you were literally the witness, Klaus, and second of all, yeah, I have an ulterior motive, I want to help her convince immigration officials that we didn’t just get married so she could get a visa!”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, stop deflecting!” Klaus says in that mild tone of his that always puts Diego on edge.

“Why, what other ulterior motive could I have other than scamming the government?” Diego asks in irritation and then instantly regrets opening that door for Klaus. The slow grin that spreads across his brother’s face makes Diego regret a lot of choices in his life.

“I think you’re in love with your wife, you weirdo!” Klaus says, batting his eyelashes at him and Diego tries not to react, but then thinks that may be exactly the wrong choice, so a little too late he grimaces and says, “Don’t be silly!”

“Oh please, it was written all over your face at the wedding. And so much sexual tension between the two of you, maybe you should fuck and see whether that resolves it,” Klaus offers with a shrug.

“Yeah, no… that didn’t really work…” Diego breathes out and then instantly realizes the horrible mistake he made when both his brothers almost shout, “What?!” at the same time.

“Urgh, you slept with your wife, you pervert?” Klaus squeals in delight, almost falling over on the couch laughing at his own joke.

“She wasn’t my wife then…” Diego shoots back and he just doesn’t know how this keeps happening. Why is he arguing about this with Klaus? He really, really doesn’t want to talk about it, but Klaus just always manages to push his buttons.

“Oh, intriguing! Do tell!” his brother rights himself on the couch and looks at him with big curious eyes.

“Absolutely fucking not!” Diego says grumpily and crosses his arms again, trying to physically make himself shut the fuck up.

“But then what are you even doing, Diego?” Ben pipes up from the other side of the room and that is almost worse, Diego thinks, because Ben’s going to end up making a good point, “You’re clearly in love with each other, you’re having sex, you live together, you’re married, but for some reason you say you’re not actually together?”

“We had sex once, and Lila’s not in love with me!” Diego grumbles just for the sake of disagreeing with Ben.

“But you’re in love with Lila?” Ben asks at the same time as Klaus says, “Oh please, Lila is definitely in love with you! I thought she obviously wanted to bang you, but now I know she already got there that puts all the longing looks she gave you in a completely different light!”

Diego’s not inclined to simply believe his hyperbolic brother and suddenly talking about the whole thing stings in a peculiar way, so he tries to not pout when he stabs a finger at one brother at a time and says, “I’m not talking to you two about this!” Then, directed at Ben he asks, “Are you done with the damn camera? I don’t want to be here all night, should have just gotten a disposable one at the drugstore!”

To Diego’s relief, Ben holds out a small bag and he grabs it, says his very swift goodbyes, and leaves in a hurry.

They leave, as planned, in the early morning and at first Lila is grumpy and Diego starts doubting himself for suggesting the trip. He’d hoped that beyond getting some nice photos, he could offer Lila a bit of a reprieve from the stress of the past weeks, but once they’ve stopped off to get some coffee and donuts, to his relief, her mood markedly improves.

It’s stupid, but after what Klaus and Ben said to him, Diego can’t help watching her intently to see whether they might actually be right. But all he achieves is to get distracted from watching the road when he keeps looking over to see Lila, feet up on the dashboard, donut in one hand and take-away coffee in the other, singing loudly and badly along to the radio.

Despite the good forecast for the weather, the sun hasn’t managed to come out through the clouds yet, but, Diego thinks maybe a little overly poetically, he’d hardly notice with the way Lila seems to brighten up the inside of the car with her huge toothy grin as she looks over at him while still chewing on her donut.

“What? D’you not like my singing?” Lila asks him with a challenging sparkle in her eyes and Diego turns back to look at the road because he’s starting to worry that he might just be openly mooning over her.

“Why wouldn’t I like your singing, seeing as you’re so good at it?” he responds sarcastically.

“Fuck off!” Lila says, laughing lightly and punching him playfully in the arm with her donut hand, transferring a little of the powdered sugar onto his shirt.

“You’re in a good mood,” Diego points out. He doesn’t mind that, of course, in fact he’s endlessly relieved, but it does come as a bit of a surprise after the last few weeks in which she seemed to be on quite the emotional rollercoaster.

“We’re going to the beach! You have to be in a good mood when you go to the beach, Diego, it’s the law!” Lila explains seriously and Diego makes the mistake of looking over at her again and his heart skips a beat at the way she’s looking at him.

Klaus’s words ring in his ear, but once more he can’t figure her out. It’s just as likely that she simply genuinely likes going to the beach and is excited about it.

When they get to the shore Diego gets so distracted by all the attractions and all the different activities they get up to that he almost starts to feel like they’re on an actual date.

They take a walk along the water, joking and chatting in a way they haven’t in weeks, Lila taking off her shoes and pulling up the skirt of her dress so she can wade in all the way to her knees. Diego’s impressed as he just puts his hand in the shallow waves once to gage the temperature and decides that he has absolutely no interest in getting any other part of his body wet.

They have about twenty pictures left on the film, so they make sure to get as many different photos as possible so they can claim their honeymoon was a couple of days long, rather than just a single day trip. They have lunch on the terrace of a small seafood restaurant and then head back to Diego’s car to change into a different set of clothes and wander along the fair on either side of the promenade.

One stall offers knife throwing for prizes and Lila gets Diego to take part. He’s surprisingly good at it and lets Lila choose a prize and instead of taking one of the huge stuffed toys she picks a cheap-looking bracelet made up of wooden beads on a string and Diego can’t help but think that it really does look pretty cute on her.

As the day turns into late afternoon he buys them ice cream to take along their walk down the pier and Diego doesn’t miss the way something flashes across Lila’s expression when he hands her her cone and then turns back to the vendor and asks for a receipt for their immigration file. He has no idea what to make of it, though.

“There’s a place near London called Brighton,” Lila begins telling him as they almost reach the end of the pier, “it has this huge, gaudy pier and when I was at school they took us there on a day trip. I really didn’t like it, but then they also took us by boat to this other pier that was derelict and damaged by storms and you couldn’t get to it without a boat anymore and I much preferred that one, even though there was nothing really there anymore, except for the ruins of a victorian building.” Lila leans over the ornate, wrought iron railing and looks out at the water. “And then, when I was in my teens there was this massive fire and a couple of friends and I we bunked off school and took a train down to Brighton to take a look. We could still see smoke coming off it even the day after and there was this sooty smell on the beach and I don’t know why but I actually teared up. And I can’t quite explain it, but it was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen!”

Lila turns to look at him then, and her huge brown eyes are so full of emotion that Diego finds it hard to look at her and simultaneously can’t tear his eyes away.

Lila blinks rapidly and then turns back to look out at the sea and the slowly setting sun and says in a low voice, “Don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

On some instinct Diego pulls out the camera and takes a picture of her in profile. They’ve been purposely only taking pictures of the two of them together, on occasion asking strangers and then wrapping an arm around each other, or Lila would put her hand in the crook of his elbow, because a photo of them individually will offer nothing in the way of evidence for the visa process.

Having heard the shutter release go off, Lila looks at him again and asks, “What’d you take a picture of?”

Diego looks down at where he’s winding the little wheel to the next picture on the film with his thumb and says quietly, “One of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

Lila doesn’t respond and when he does muster the nerve to raise his eyes up to meet hers, there’s suddenly a charge between them that feels like it might set the damp sea air on fire. He’s just about to say something, anything really, when a slightly nasal voice coming from somewhere off to the side chimes in with a midwestern twang, “Hey mister, would you like me to take a photo of you and the lovely missus?”

They both look around abruptly to see a small woman with a kind, round face look at them expectantly.

“Uh…” Diego begins, taking a moment to find himself back in the real world, “Yeah, thanks, that’d be nice!”

He hands the camera to the woman and she takes a few steps back to get them in frame and calls out, “Smile!” and he hears the camera click before he’s even managed to follow her instructions. He’s in the middle of wondering about just how dumb he probably looks in the photo when the woman looks over the top of the camera and asks, “One more?” to which Lila says “Yes!” with determination and then grips his shirt with both hands and Diego turns just in time for Lila to press her lips to his and that’s when all coherent thoughts get swept out of his mind like sand along a beach.

“Aw, how wonderful!” Diego hears the woman call out and only realizes that he’s closed his eyes and pulled Lila hard against himself when she puts a couple of inches between them, but doesn’t quite let go of him at the interruption, “Got the sunset in and everything! Here’s your camera.”

Diego lets go of Lila with one hand and she slides back onto her feet, a tiny selfish part of Diego’s brain notes that it almost seemed like she was a little reluctant, and he takes the offered camera.

He puts it back in the bag and then startles when Lila wraps her arms around his waist and presses her face into his chest, hugging him tightly.

A little uncertainly, Diego puts his arms around her and hugs her back, then leans his head down and whispers into her ear, “What’s that for?”

She mumbles against his chest, but he’s close enough to hear her, “Just don’t think I’ve really thanked you enough for what you’re doing for me!”

There are so many things he’d like to respond with but they all seem to either not say enough or far too much about how he feels in that moment, so instead, Diego tightens his grip on her and buries his face in her hair and just holds on until Lila starts pulling away.

The drive back to the city is a lot more sombre compared to the giddy energy that Lila had created in the car on their way to the beach. Diego looks over at her periodically, but for most of the time she’s just quietly staring out of the window at the scenery whizzing by in the half light of dusk. It’s a beautiful view, he can’t blame her, but he feels almost like she’s trying to avoid conversation with him. So not sure what he would even talk about, Diego leaves her to it and spends his time making up his mind that once she has her green card and is no longer reliant on their continued charade, he owes it to himself, but maybe even the two of them, to tell her how he feels.

There’s a definite shift in the way they live together after their beach trip. They never actually discuss it, but Diego makes an effort to not work until late in the evening, and it seems Lila hardly ever has any plans with friends at night, and so they spend the weeks leading up to their immigration interview cooking and having dinner together, often using the time to get to know each other as best they can and compare notes on all the relevant answers to the questions Rodriguez and his wife wrote down for them. Other times they’ll put on a movie and make popcorn and spend a quiet evening on the couch together.

It’s both perfect and absolute bliss and at the same time it nearly tears Diego apart. Because every time they sit together on the couch, separated only by the fucking bowl of popcorn that they both very strenuously take turns to put their hand in, he has to physically restrain himself from simply shoving the stupid bowl to the floor and launching himself at Lila.

It’s slowly driving him insane.

On the day of their interview they are both quite nervous and when the USCIS agent separates them and puts them in different offices, Diego can’t stop fidgeting even when the interviewer promptly comes back in to talk to him.

He needn’t have worried. They’d done a good job at preparing for the interview and between all of the photos and receipts (some of them legit others maybe slightly less so), there are no holes that anyone could poke in the story they’d created.

He is somewhat thrown, though, when the agent asks him whether he loves his wife, that wasn’t a question that Rodriguez had mentioned, but it strikes him that it’s the one question that he can answer most honestly, so he tells her that he loves Lila with all of his heart and at this point couldn’t imagine living without her, and the agent just makes a note on her notepad and then thanks him for his time.

He’s waiting in the foyer when Lila comes out looking a little flustered and Diego’s heart sinks in disappointment as he concludes she must not have gotten her green card.

“You ok?” he asks tentatively as she gets to him and Lila gives him a glassy eyed look and says slightly absentmindedly, “Yeah, course!”

Confused by her answer, Diego tries again and asks, “How’d it go?”

Lila seems just as confused when she answers, “Uh, yeah, fine!”

Feeling like there’s a misunderstanding somewhere in their conversation Diego asks head on, though he feels like he’s being insensitive, “So, d’you get the visa?”

“What?” Lila asks distractedly, then adds, looking more harassed than he’s ever seen her “Oh that, yeah, yeah, of course I did. Uhm, can we just go home?”

He’s absolutely thrown by that. He would have expected her to be significantly more excited, considering the amount of work she put in, but he thinks maybe it’s just the adrenaline wearing off, so he follows her wordlessly out of the building and back to the car.

When they get back to the apartment, Diego’s just in the middle of taking off his boots, when Lila twists around to look at him and then rushes out, almost as if she’s been holding the question in for hours, “Diego, are you in love with me?”

#otp: just be gentle #lila pitts #diego hargreeves #dielila #diego x lila #diego/lila #tua #the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #fanfic #ongoing fanfic

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btsslowburnfic · 4 years

Text

Sonata Second Movement

The dear @omgalyssag17 asked: hi i saw you have your requests open and was wondering if you’d be interested in writing a story where yoongi moves into a haunted apartment/house (human!yoongi x ghost!reader pairing). i like giving authors lots of room for creativity so let your imagination flow.

Here is part one Series Summary: Yoongi travels to a lake house to get some work done in peace. While he is there he has several strange encounters that make him question his own sanity. Chapter Notes: Ghosty girl is catching feelings WK:6kish

---------------------

Previously... “Wow you look even better when you are soaking wet,” you mused from your spot by the fireplace mantle.

Yoongi shook his hair out of his face and looked over at you, “Thanks, but who are you and why are you here….” His eyes widened as he was finally able to see clearly.

Your eyes also grew wider and you looked behind you to make sure he wasn’t speaking to anyone else. You looked back at him, “You can see me?”

Yoongi slowly nodded his head. The woman definitely looked like she could be twins with [y/n] from the photograph. “Of course I can, you’re ogling me from the fireplace.”

If you were alive you would have blushed. “Yeah well...I didn’t think you would see me. Let a girl have a little fun.” You wrung your hands. “Go put on a towel or something.”

Yoongi laughed, his shoulders gently shaking up and down. “Sorry. I’m Min Yoongi. It’s nice to meet you. Are you [y/n’]’s sister? Didn’t you know the cabin is booked for the week?

“………..yes. I’m her sister.” You decided, what the hell? You’re dead. He’s not going to believe that you’re a ghost anyways. Let’s go with it. “ It’s nice to meet you. My name is Elise. I’m so sorry for staring at you. I didn’t know anyone was staying here. My parents are awful about letting me know the schedule.”

Yoongi felt his heartbeat slowing down. “S’okay. Uh...when did you get here? I didn’t see a car?”

“Late this morning. I had a friend drop me off. I saw your car out front but I thought maybe one of our family friends had stopped by to go fishing or something. When I came inside I headed straight for the guest bedroom to relax.” The lies easily fell from your lips and you felt a little bad. But an easy lie was better than a hard truth for today.

Yoongi was so shocked from the ghost incident and the surprise of having another person there he didn’t analyze the story too much. “OK. Well, like you said. I’m going to go put on a towel or something. Probably dry clothes, unless you’d prefer the towel?” He teased.

“Hey, don’t flatter yourself too much. Like I said, I didn’t think you’d be able to hear me,” you looked away embarrassed.

Yoongi smirked, not quite sure where his confidence just now had come from. He shouldn’t flirt with some random girl in an isolated cabin. He was here to work. He walked back to the bedroom to change.

You gathered a few logs and paper to start a fire in the fireplace. He would probably be cold and you felt bad for scaring him out into the cool rain. How on earth could he see you? You wondered. You tossed a match into the pile and waited for the flames to catch.

Yoongi came out with his hair still damp and dressed in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. “I’m booked here through the week just so you know. Oh,” he looked at the fireplace, “thanks for starting a fire.”

You sat down in front of it and held your hands out, imitating getting warm.. “No problem. And OK. Are you trying to kick me out of my dead sister’s house?”

Yoongi froze. “Well I guess when you put it like that, I was going to. But now I feel bad.”

“I’ll try and get a hold of my friend tomorrow to see if they can come back early. But you know how the reception is out here.” You said from your spot in front of the fire.

“Yeah. No worries. I just came up here to get some work done. So as long as that still happens, it’s all good.” He squatted next to the fire and began to blow on it to add oxygen. You had tried to blow on it as well, but of course your efforts amounted to nothing.

“Oh? What kind of work?” You pretended like you had no idea even though you figured it out the first night.

“I’m a music producer. I also write songs and rap. Sometimes I'm even forced to sing,” he joked as he stood up and walked over to the desk. “Was your sister a musician?”

“Yes. She was a concert pianist and also dabbled in composing. She had written a few things before she died."

"Anything I'd recognize?" he asked, putting his notebook into his bag.

"No, nothing you would have heard of. How did you know?”

Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck and walked over carrying the letter. “Ah, here. I found this in the piano. Umm...it might be difficult to read. I think she wrote it when she was really sick.” He gently handed it to you. You took the time to read your words and reflect on them.

You gave the letter back to Yoongi and let out a deep breath. “Cancer. She was so young, they didn’t suspect anything. By the time they caught it, it had spread to her bones. She turned down treatment and moved up here full time. All she wanted to do was enjoy the lake views and play music.” You sighed, remembering the worst year of your life.

“I’m sorry. That must have been really horrible for both of you.” He nods in understanding and you don’t say anything, just staring into the fire.

Yoongi sucked in some air, making a whooshing sound and began, “Well, along with the letter she also left the music she was working on, would you like to hear it?” He sat down at the piano bench.

“Please,” you responded and turned to face the piano. You were absolutely relishing every minute that he was actually interacting with you.

Yoongi began to play the song as you had written it, along with the few notes he (and you) had added. Before you knew it, you felt something on your face. Tears? Ghosts couldn’t cry?? What was going on with you today?

Yoongi stopped playing and turned around to hear your appraisal. “Oh shit. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. I didn’t even know I could cry.” You responded, wiping the tears away. He didn’t notice your strange phrasing, just assuming you weren’t a very emotional person.

“Your sister wrote most of it, I added just a few notes. It’s really good. Hold on.” He got up and went hunting for tissues. He returned a moment later and gently handed you the box. “Here.”

“Thank you,” you said while wiping the tears from your face. “It sounds so gentle the way you play it.”

He mumbled a response you couldn’t quite make out while rubbing the back of his neck and sat down next to you on the floor.

“Would you like some coffee?” You asked, suddenly remembering the task he was trying to complete when you scared him earlier.

He shook the bangs out of his face, “Sure, if you want to make some I’d drink it. By the way, did you sit all the stuff out earlier?”

I mean. It wasn’t a lie this time, “Yes. I was going to make some this morning but then I got distracted.”

“Oh good. For a while I thought this lake house was haunted.”

“Ahahaha” you laughed way too much. Creepily, if you were being honest. You stood up, “that’s so weird. A haunted Lake house. Are you easily frightened?”

He leaned back on his elbows, enjoying the heat from the fireplace. “No. I mean, I don’t like horror movies, but I don’t think I get scared easily. Imagine if you thought you were alone and suddenly the groceries were in other places and doors were unlocking and locking.” He pouted.

You added water and coffee grounds to the machine. “Yeah yeah that’s fair. Sorry for teasing you, that would be pretty scary.”

“Plus I found that note, and the piano seems like it has a mind of its own. And it’s a secluded cabin.” He lists reasons, defending himself. You feel bad since he wasn’t wrong; the house was haunted.

“Hey stop, you’re starting to freak ME out.” You teased as you leaned against the counter. “So, are you on vacation or working or….?” You gestured hoping for him to finish the sentence.

He turned to face you entirely, his tiny legs folded underneath him. “Both. But I can’t stand not working. A lot of my teammates are traveling and spending time with their friends and family, but I’d rather work. I had dinner with my brother the first night and then headed here the next day.”

“I understand.” You truly did. You weren’t lying earlier when you had said you spent your last year up at the Lake house mostly by yourself. Your family and friends didn’t understand your decision. But for you it was easier to not see them sad. To not hear them ask “how are you doing?” every time they saw you. You were dying. How the hell did they think you were doing?

You poured some coffee into two mugs. “Milk? Sugar?” you asked.

“Sorry, I like it iced. Here, I’ll get it.” He stood up and walked over to the kitchen, taking the mug from your hand. In doing so he ever so slightly brushed up against your hand. You hadn’t touched anyone in ten years. Holy shit that felt weird. And Amazing. You quickly put the cup up to your mouth to hide all of your feelings.

“Well, I’m going to give you some space to work. I’ll try to stay in my room.” You mumbled into the cup and turned to leave.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. Like I said, as long as it’s quiet I don’t mind. So you know, no karaoke parties or anything.” He teased as he put ice cubes into a glass and dumped the mug contents into it.

You smiled, “Ok ok. It was on my list of things to do while I was up here, but I guess I’ll hold back.”

“Oh well, if it’s on your to-do list, we can always try it later today,” He took a sip of the coffee. “Ahhh much better.”

He was nice. You thought as you walked over to the sofa and nestled in, watching the rain fall. Could you drink coffee? you wondered. You very hesitantly stuck out your tongue and tried to place it on the liquid. Success. Maybe you were actually in heaven now. A cute boy was talking to you and you could drink coffee again. And cry. And he actually was able to touch your hand. You tried not to freak out as you remembered. It was not a big deal. This was all totally normal. As normal as a day could be for a ghost. You heard beats quietly playing and saw that Yoongi had placed his headphones on and was working on his laptop.

You looked around for a book that you hadn’t read twenty times. The last family that stayed here had left in such a rush they left behind several paperbacks of various genres. They thought they would have a relaxing time in your house, reading on your deck. Oh no. Not once their children smashed on your piano and jumped on your bed. They had to go. Banging a few pots and pans, opening up their car doors, and opening up the windows had done the trick. And voila, you had new books. You picked your new Jojo Moyes’ book and laid back on the couch.

The rest of the afternoon passed relatively peacefully. Yoongi was really dedicated to his work. He occasionally would get up to refill his coffee, but that was it. Was he going to eat? Humans needed to eat right? Yes. You remembered. Humans ate 2-3 times a day. Sometimes more.You got up and started the rice maker.

You heard Yoongi sit his headphones down and walk over to the kitchen. “Did you bring any food? What were you planning on eating?” He asked as he opened the refrigerator door.

Shit. Shit. He started pulling out some vegetables and meat.

“Umm...I don’t know. I was just in such a hurry to get up here, I guess I forgot.”

Yoongi scoffed. “Forgot to bring food? For the weekend? Are you a careless person?”

Damn, he was very blunt for such a nice person “There’s a chalet on the other side of the lake that has a market. I was planning on going there in the boat.”

“Oh? I didn’t know about that.” He shrugged.

Well maybe it was still open. You had no clue actually. Shit. Fortunately for you he didn’t ask any follow up questions, suddenly immersed in his new task of chopping vegetables and meat. Apparently he could cook? So domestic, you thought as you stood there feeling useless.

You wandered over to the piano and took a seat, the wood creaking beneath you. You looked at your unfinished piece, still sitting there with the picture of yourself staring back. You placed your fingers on the keys and began to play. When you arrived at the end you tried a few other runs to see if they fit, but, much like when you were alive, none of them felt right. You sighed and turned around to see Yoongi staring at you with his lips slightly parted. “Wow, You play as well?”

You don’t know why but suddenly you felt very shy. “Yeah. My parents made me start taking lessons when I was three. Piano, eat, sleep. Then, Piano, school, eat, sleep. It’s ok though. I actually enjoyed playing so I didn’t mind. Especially when I got old enough to where I could pick my own music.”

“That’s nice. My parents hated that I loved music. They’re supportive now, but when I was in high school I got caught writing lyrics in class and they tore up all of them. Notebooks full of music all gone in a matter of minutes.” He said it with a smile on his face, but you could still sense the bitterness in his voice.

“That’s so awful. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

He shrugged, “They were doing what they thought was best for me at the time. Our parents are just humans too.” A timer went off in the kitchen. “I need to check on the soup.”

Apparently he had made soup. You turned back to the piano and played through a few more times, still getting stuck at the same place. Frustrated, you started playing some other songs so you could feel like you had accomplished something.

“Food’s ready.” You heard him call from the kitchen. You stood up and walked over to the countertop bar.

“Thank you. Wow. This looks amazing,” you commented as you stared at the delicious food sitting in the bowl.

“Ah it’s nothing.” He said, blowing onto his spoon, his cheeks puffing out with each breath.

“Well I haven’t had homemade soup in forever, so I am very excited.” You took a spoonful as well and began to try to cool it down.

The two of you eat mostly in silence. The soup is of course, very good. “I’ll clean up, you can get back to work.” You offered, taking the empty dishes over to the sink. Being dead was weird, you missed even the small things like feeling water against your hands; smelling soap. So many small everyday moments that you had taken for granted.

He mumbled his gratitude and headed back over to the desk, putting his headphones back on. You washed and dried the dishes. Looking outside, you saw that the rain had finally cleared up. You grabbed your book and headed out to the deck. To your amazement, you were able to feel the sun’s warmth. God. It had been forever. You had come out here almost every day for ten years but hadn’t been able to feel sensations like hot, cold, or wind. You gazed out over the lake, admiring the way the sun shimmered over the water.

You weren’t sure if hours or minutes passed by, but eventually you came to a good stopping point in your book and headed inside. To your surprise, Yoongi was asleep on the couch, a pillow tucked between his knees. He looked so tiny and cute. You walked over to the corner of the room and grabbed a blanket. You headed back towards the couch and covered him up, wishing for a moment you were still invisible so you could watch him sleep without being a total creep. You looked at him for a few more seconds, trying to memorize his features so when he left you would still be able to remember him. You decided it was best if you didn’t stare creepily at him and headed to the guest bedroom.

Yoongi woke up in total darkness and yawned loudly. How long had he slept for? He meant to take a power nap on the couch but had apparently rested for much longer. Constant traveling and insomnia meant he had a messed up sleep schedule anyway which is what made him lay down in the first place. He pulled the blanket up to his chin and stretched, the tips of his toes hitting the other end of the couch. He hadn’t remembered putting a blanket on. Honestly, that’s probably what made him sleep for as long as he did. Ah, he remembered his new housemate. He smiled. Something about someone putting a blanket on you when you were sleeping was so cute.

He sat up and neatly folded the blanket. Running his hands through his hair he took out his phone to use as a flashlight and made his way over to the light switch. He stretched once more and headed over to the piano to see if any progress could be made with [y/n]’s composition. This time he was able to string together a few more chords that sounded like they fit. The melody was difficult to categorize, but if he had to he would call it “nostalgic.” It was both happy and sad, and befitting of a dying woman, he thought sadly.

“That sounds great.” He heard a voice say behind him. He jumped slightly, he hadn’t heard you enter the room. “Ack. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, you’re fine. I just didn’t hear you come in.” He scooted over on the black bench, making room for you. “Would you like to try?”

You sat down, trying to not notice that your legs were touching on the very small bench. You played through the piece, adding in the newest notes he had written.

“Hmmm...I think your playing style is better suited for this song,” he said. He leaned over and grabbed a pen and sheet music from the desktop and made some notes.

“I like listening to you play it, but I suppose since it was [y/n]s song, maybe I’m a bit more familiar with the style. We did have the same teacher after all.” You said as you began to play through it once again. “I like the progress you’ve made on it though. In just this afternoon?”

Yoongi smiled at that and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well at first it was easy for me to see what direction the song wanted to go in, but now I’m not sure. I can see why she struggled with it.”

“Well between that and the pain and headaches and nausea,” you added without thinking.

“Yes. Once again, I’m just so sorry that happened. When did [y/n] die?”

“Ten years ago.” You looked sadly out the large back windows. It was night now and the moon was casting it’s tiny crescent reflection on the water.

“Did she pass away here?” He asked, gesturing to the room.

“Right over on there.” You pointed to the sofa. “Don’t worry. They bought a new couch.” You quickly amended your statement when you saw his eyes bug out ever so slightly. “She sent our parents a message saying it wouldn’t be long. She sat out a bunch of food and water for Barley and then laid down for a nap. But she never woke back up.”

“Jesus that’s sad.”

“Yeah….Cancer sucks.”

“What happened to Barley?” Yoongi asked, reaching out to hold the picture of [y/n] and the dog that rested on the piano.

“He passed away shortly after. My parents said he died of a broken heart. Soooooooo, that sucks too.” you said and you felt tears starting to run down your face. Your poor dog. He didn’t understand. All he knew was that you weren’t waking up. No matter how much he barked or pulled on you or whined; you wouldn’t get up to let him out or play with him. Your parents arrived the next morning to Barley lying on top of you on the couch, trying to keep you warm. Of course, you weren’t ever going to be warm again at that point. It really sucked.

You felt a gentle squeeze on your hand that was still resting on the keys. You looked over at Yoongi, his face a few inches away from yours. “That does suck.”

You sniffled loudly and reached for the Kleenex box. “Yeah. Thanks. Sorry. Coming up here and hearing the song has made me an emotional wreck. I usually don’t cry.”

“It’s fine. I mean, I’m sorry it’s happening to you, but don’t feel bad on my account. Feel your feelings. It’s all good.” He said and gave you an understanding :]

“Thanks. I’m going to go lay down for a bit. Good luck with the song.” You stood up abruptly.

“Ok.” He was slightly surprised. “Do you need anything? Dinner? Water?”

“No, thank you. I’m not very hungry. I just. I need to go lay down.” You turned to go to the guest bedroom. Then you awkwardly turned around, “Thanks again. Really.” You felt your cheeks growing red and felt a sound in your ears that would have felt like a heartbeat if you were alive. Today had been so very confusing. You forgot what it was like to feel all of these things at once. You didn’t need to be trapped in a lake house, as a ghost, with a crush on a guy who you would never see again. Even you knew this was a bad idea. You just wanted to creepily stare at him. Not talk to him. Not like him. Not have a crush on him. Stupid ghost, you chided yourself as you laid down. You resolved to try to avoid him for the next 2 days. It would be easier to accept oblivion without missing somebody.

Yoongi sat on the piano bench, staring at the couch. Wow. What a sad story. He knew that people died all the time. He comprehended that young people died and that life was unfair. But it was still just so shitty. The more he thought about it the more angry and sad he got. He moved over to the desk and started to write some lyrics. The next thing he knew it was the middle of the night and his notebook was full of words and sentences; concepts and ideas. If there was one thing Yoongi was good at, it was turning pain and anger into music.

He stood up and raised his arms over his head, then moved side to side. You had never come back out so he assumed you went to sleep. All things considered, he thought, you were actually doing pretty well. He couldn’t imagine if his brother passed away, going to his house and having to think about poor Holly being left alone. Well he could actually, since he just got into that headspace to write lyrics, but it was still a shitty thing to think about, and even shittier that it actually happened to [y/n]. He grabbed himself a glass of water, skipping food, and went to bed.

Day 4

You woke up to the sunlight streaming in your room. Gross. You had planned on just trying to sleep a solid 2 days in order to avoid Yoongi but the bright ass sun was making it difficult. You grumbled and decided to take advantage of being able to drink coffee again today. You weren’t sure how long this being able to interact with food and beverages was going to last but you were going to take advantage. You listened for Yoongi, hearing nothing, you walked quietly out to the kitchen and prepared the coffee.

A few minutes later you heard Yoongi’s heavy footsteps in the hallway and saw him yawning with his hair sticking up. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

He stood there, blinking slowly. “Coffee.”

You laughed. “It’s dripping right now. Late night?”

“Mmmm…” was all he responded as he walked into the bathroom.

So much for avoiding him. You looked around and noticed everything was in the same place as last night. Had Yoongi not eaten dinner? You wondered. Humans need to eat. You poured the coffee over ice and sat it on the countertop.

Yoongi walked out of the bathroom a few minutes later, straight over to the glass. He took a few sips. “Thank you.” He sat down at the counter and rested his head on his arms.

“Did you eat dinner last night?” You asked, checking the rice cooker.

“uh-uh... “ he mumbled, still not quite coherent.

You frowned, “That’s no good. I’ll make something in a few minutes after coffee, ok?”

“Mmmm….” was the response you got. Wow, he was really out of it this morning. It wasn’t often that a ghost had more energy than an alive person. You took your cup of coffee out onto the deck, determined to distance yourself. Even though you didn’t want to. You felt very conflicted.

Yoongi slowly came back to the realm of the living with each sip of coffee. He wanted to sleep longer, but the sunshine, magnified by the lake, wasn’t going to let him do that this morning. He guessed another afternoon nap was in his future. He stood up and wandered into the kitchen. Realizing you hadn’t eaten dinner either, he decided he should go ahead and prepare lunch.

You walked back in to refill your cup and found Yoongi cooking. “Hey, I said I was going to make something.” You chided.

He shrugged, “I like to cook. It’s nothing fancy. Kimchi fried rice. You need to eat. You can’t just feel sad sitting around your sister’s house.”

“Well I could if I really felt like it. It is sad.” You responded. “But, I guess you’re right. It’s not the best thing to do. Did you eat dinner?” You asked. He didn’t answer. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” You teased. “Get any work done last night?”

“A lot actually,” he responded while moving the food around the pan. “Do you want to go out on the lake today?”

This sudden question caught you off guard. You weren’t sure if you could go out on the lake. “Don’t you need to work?”

He shook his bangs out of his eyes. “I wrote a lot last night. And experiencing things is a type of work for me. It influences my writing. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“No,” you quickly answered. “I want to go. I’m just nervous and I didn’t want to interrupt your work.”

“I suggested it, it’s no trouble. Why are you nervous?” He asked, taking plates down from a cabinet.

Uh because I’m afraid I’ll suddenly disappear if I get too far away from the Lakehouse, is what you wanted to say. Of course you couldn’t. When this had first happened, when you first died, you tried walking out of here. You made it to the end of the gravel path before you felt yourself being pulled back towards the house. A force physically repelled you away from going too far. It hurt. You didn’t know ghosts could experience pain until that happened. But how could you resist going on a boat ride with Yoongi on a nice sunny day? Wait. weren’t you trying to avoid him? You couldn't avoid him if you were in a boat with him.

“Why are you nervous?” he asked again, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Oh. I can’t swim.” You lied. When had you become such a good liar? You asked yourself. Oh well. What’s the worst thing that could happen? You wondered.

“I’m not a very good swimmer either.” He put the rice onto the plates. “I almost drowned in the ocean when I was a child. I assume there’s life jackets in the boat house though.”

“Yeah. There are.” You decided, what the hell? You’re a ghost. How often did you get to do anything fun. “Sure. Let’s do that.”

The two of you ate lunch and headed down to the boat dock, Yoongi putting a hat on to shield his eyes and skin from the sun. “I don’t have a license for the motorboat, so I guess we’ll take the rowboat.” He said as the two of you approached the garage.

“Yeah, my license is expired,” You said truthfully. Expired by about ten years.

He unlocked the garage and fished out two lifejackets for the two of you. To your shock he held one out for you to put one one. You walked over and slipped your arms through. “There,” he commented. “Nice and safe.”

You zipped it up and really hoped that this didn’t turn into a total shitshow. The two of you climbed into the rowboat, ensuring the weight was evenly distributed. Yoongi grabbed the paddles while you untied the rope and pushed away from the dock gently.

“It’s nice out today,” you commented as you felt the breeze blowing through your hair. The sun felt warm on your face and for a minute, you felt like the happiest woman in the world. You forgot about death and pain and loneliness.

“It is. I was worried there would be another afternoon rain storm. Without cell service it’s hard to tell what the weather will be like.” He said as he gently rowed.

“Can we stay closer to the dock? That would make me feel better.”

“Sure.” He let the oars drag against the water, bringing the boat to a gentle stop. The vessel gently bobbed up and down. “Do you ever go fishing?” He asked suddenly.

You shook your head, “No. The hook going through worms and the fishes mouth grosses me out. And I feel bad for the fish. Why? Do you?”

“Yeah, sometimes me and my friend go fishing. We don’t usually catch anything though.” He mused, looking into the water and trying to see if he could spot anything.

“Well I have heard it’s a good lake for fishing. You should bring your friend up here sometime,” you smiled and dipped your fingers into the water.

“Your parents tried to sell the Lakehouse?” He asked.

“Yeah, it was on the market for a while. But with no serious interest they started renting it out so they weren’t losing money on it.”

“I wonder why it didn’t sell. It’s a cute house, and the lake is quiet.” He pouted his lips in thought.

“Well there is that whole “ghost” thing.”

“You said there was no ghost,” you heard him whine.

You laughed, “I haven’t had any problems with a ghost. Other people on the other hand...maybeeee they have.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.” He pouted.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” you asked.

“I believe that there is no way human beings could possibly know everything about the universe. People once thought the Earth was flat. People one hundred years ago would have no concept of what the internet was. So I don’t know. Maybe. Just because something is unlikely doesn’t mean it isn’t possible.”

“What a diplomatic answer. Do you give interviews often?” You shook your hair behind your back.

He smiled shyly, “I mean actually yes. I do. But that’s not why I said it. I just think there are a lot of unexplainable things in the world. Maybe the house isn’t haunted to you because it’s your family's house.”

You shrugged. What an interesting guy. “Maybe. Why? You want to buy a haunted lakehouse? I’m sure my parents would sell it to you. At a discount even; boats included.”

He laughed and leaned back a little bit. “Maybe. Do you think they’d throw in the piano?”

If you had a heart it would have stopped beating at that exact moment. This was the opposite of avoiding him. This was falling for him even more. Ugh. Stupid stupid ghost. You suddenly felt very sad.

“Hey? Did I say something wrong?” He asked.

“No, no. Sorry. Just thinking.” You put on a fake smile.

“You could still come visit the house if I bought it. You don’t need to be sad about that.” He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. How was this guy so nice?!?!

“That’s very kind of you.” You said quietly. “I’m sure you can get a hold of them through the agency.”

“You can’t ask them?”

“Ehhhh ever since [y/n] died we don’t really talk much. Things got weird. I’m sure it’s hard for them.” It hurt you at how true your words were. You missed your parents so much. They had come by the house a few times after you died, but it was too hard for them to be there after you were gone. No parent should have to bury their child.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure your sister dying is hard on all of you. I think I’ll do that once I’m back in Seoul. Get a hold of them about the house.”

You smiled. “That’s great. If you like it here, I’m happy for you.”

As the two of you talked, the boat had gently moved itself further out into the middle of the lake. You hadn’t even noticed since the two of you had been talking so much. Suddenly though, you felt it. The pulling sensation.

“Yoongi,” you said, the pitch of our voice higher with fear.

“Eh?” He responded lazily, unaware that anything was wrong.

“Can we please go back towards the dock?”

“Just a second, I’m taking some pictures for Jin.” He answered. He had his phone out and was capturing a panoramic of the lake.

Ouch. Ouch.Ouch. “Please. I’m very uncomfortable,” you said, but even as you spoke you could feel your words becoming less and less audible.It felt as though someone had taken a weighted blanket and placed it on top of you.

“Ok. All done.” He turned back to face you. You could tell immediately that something was wrong with the way he suddenly dropped his phone down onto the floorboards of the boat. His mouth came up to his hands. “[Y/N]?” You barely heard.

#bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts scenarios #bts suga x you #suga x reader #suga x you #bts yoongi x reader #yoongi scenarios #yoongi x reader

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thanksjro · 4 years

Text

More Than Meets the Eye #16- All the Greatest Love Songs are Secretly About Heroin

Dang, been a minute since we got into the series proper. What all happened again?

Oh. Right. That.

…So anyway, let’s brush up on our Ultra Magnus history!

There was a massive fight on top of a spaceship. Swoop was there, Impactor was there, Overlord was there, Heretech was there, Killmaster was there- shit was lit. Ultra Magnus was doing his thing, though it looks like this was before he got LASIK done, because he’s got a visor on.

Then Ultra Magnus got shot in the gut and fell off the spaceship. It was so scary his hand started spasming.

Later on, we return to a place we’ve seen before, albeit from the Decepticon side.

Magnus, your badge isn’t up to code, my guy! Better get that sorted, before your current self comes out of his medically induced coma, invents time travel, and comes to beat you up.

Also, Pious Maximus? What is your friggin’ DEAL, bro? What the actual hell is your deal?

All the K-Cons start falling out of the sky, and Magnus orders everyone to take cover, as a familiar-looking bomb that literally has his name written on it lands bang on target. It’s such an intense experience, his hands start spasming.

Later still, Magnus is in the middle of dealing with the Simanzi Massacre, and it looks like his visor’s seen better days. Hopefully it was a reading pair, and not something he actually needed to see. Rotorstorm is also there, because his character apparently only exists to suffer. Magnus and his team rise from the muck and the mire, coming ashore right on top of a Cybernought, which promptly fries Magnus with its hand lasers. He gets so crispy, his hands start spasming.

For anyone having trouble parsing the scraps of rended metal that used to be Rewind of Lower Petrohex here, allow me a moment to break him down. That cylinder in the lower left corner is his camera, the wire coming off of it is where it plugged into his head, and that squarish chunk with the clean, round hole in it is probably part of his helmet. The other chunky bits I couldn’t tell you what they are, but I think it’s pretty safe to say that Chromedome absolutely put the dog to sleep with that blast last issue.

Inside the Lost Light, Swerve’s trying to be a nice guy by putting on some tunes for Ultra Magnus, who got his spark shot by Overlord last issue, but all it’s really done is make Ratchet get distracted.

Magnus is in a bad way, as was established by First Aid last issue, and it doesn’t seem like Ratchet’s having any more luck than had been predicted. Swerve’s here for emotional support, and also because he’s got medical training. Tailgate’s here for cleanup duty. Drift’s off in the corner making snide remarks about the medical equipment, probably because he’s mad his legs are still off.

Drift looks like he’s been chiseled out of stone here, and I kind of love it. Forget softboi uwu Dwift, I want more of this guy who’ll bite into a teddybear cactus and not even flinch.

Agustin Padilla’s back on the scene for this issue, and he’s decided that everyone’s going to be elongated in as many ways as he can manage in 20 pages. Tailgate and Swerve? Tallest they’ll ever be in the series. They’re as tall as Cyclonus, and he’s a fucking space jet. Someone’s got a chevron? You better believe that thing’s scraping the gotdang ceiling. Drift’s kitty-cat ears almost never fit into the panel, because those suckers are LONG today. It’s like they’ve all been put through a taffy-puller. There are a lot of little quirks with this art, but this is one I can kind of get behind, if only because it’s so distinctive.

Getting back to the story, Drift’s talking about the Death Clock here- no, not the animated band from Adult Swim, but an actual medical device that can calculate the moment a shrinking spark will give out, down to the second. It only measures the lifespans of the terminally ill, so Swerve hasn’t accidentally given himself even more depression by sticking his little hands in the shiny light without a thought as to what the device he’s messing with might do.

Ultra Magnus has about ten days to live. This makes Tailgate incredibly upset, because he, unlike everyone else on the ship, hasn’t experienced the horrors of war and death.

Ratchet’s right, though. There’s certainly a chance that Tailgate, who’s been shown to react to stressful situations by having panic attacks to the point of blacking out, could have a very severe response to what is his first major catastrophe. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder usually isn’t an immediate development, but being proactive about your mental health is never a bad thing if you can swing it. Hell, with how bad the Overlord situation was, I wouldn’t be surprised if Rung was booked solid long enough for Tailgate to actually have time to develop PTSD.

Rodimus is on the intercom to address the situation that just took place, because man oh man, was it a doozy. He intends to hold an inquiry to figure out just what the hell happened and how Overlord got on the Lost Light to begin with. As he tells everyone what’s going to happen, our focus shifts to Chromedome, who’s standing on the outside of the ship, staring off into space.

Man, I hope Chromedome’s on the front half, because this is a fucking grim scene to witness.

Skids comes out, having been looking for Chromedome. Trailcutter of all people pointed him in the right direction- which I suppose makes sense, given that he was on the Ethics Committee on Kimia. He probably would know Chromedome and Rewind decently well by this point.

Chromedome turns around to show off his mourning black Autobot badge, freshly photoshopped onto his chest for our viewing pleasure. It’s especially blatant when contrasting with Padilla’s rougher linework style.

Skids asks our brand-new widower how he’s holding up, and Chromedome says he’s fine, which is funny, because the other day he was all:

Chromedome has a moment of reminiscing, playing connect-the-dots with the stars like he and Rewind used to do all the time.

Skids, they were married for 250,000 years.

Skids might actually have been one of the worse people to have found Chromedome, if this is what he’s going to say, and then immediately leave. He’s so awkward and clearly uncomfortable and doesn’t want to be there. Does he feel weird about Chromedome knowing more about him than he himself does? Does Skids not have access to any of his memories related to mourning? Geez, I hope nobody needs him to help them through a difficult emotional time for a good while, because this was painful to watch.

Back inside the ship, Rung’s come over to Rodimus’ room to see what all the crashing and banging is about. It would seem our dear captain’s upset, and has decided to work through his frustrations by destroying his private quarters, perhaps in an attempt to summon the wrath of Ultra Magnus, thus saving him through the power of his own mess-induced rage. Rung comes to sit with Rodimus, I guess giving up his search for Chromedome, and the two of them discuss Magnus. Specifically, they discuss Magnus’ memos, and how much Rodimus despises receiving them, because they make him feel like he’s not doing his job right. He stopped even opening them, they made him feel so bad.

If you subscribe to the headcanon of Rodimus having ADHD, you could potentially read this as being a manifestation of Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. As it is within the story proper, Rung’s decided to ignore this tidbit of information to get at the more pressing issues, like why exactly Rodimus felt the need to wreck his room.

This is about the point where the art for Rodimus becomes roughly 90% spot blacks, and it’s highly suggested that Rung get out while the getting’s good.

Oh, well this is going to be awkward.

Later on, we’re at the funeral. There’s five coffins, though not all of them actually contain a body. Everyone’s here to see their friends off, even Cyclonus, who was invited to the wake by Chromedome himself. Awful nice of him to do that, given their history.

The lineup in the front row is a bunch of chatterboxes, and they prove that very quickly as Swerve, Skids, and Whirl theorize on the contents of Brainstorm’s mysterious briefcase, which is also here at the funeral. Swerve swears himself to the duty of finding out what’s inside, on threat of death should he fail.

A short time skip is had, and Rodimus is revealed to be wearing his ceremonial funeral cape and terrifying vampire arm spikes to this shindig, as he sends Tripodeca, who is surely the most beloved of all Autobots, off with as many kind words as he can muster in the time they have. Everyone says goodbye, and we get to Rewind’s turn. Rodimus has a moment of pause, as Rung gives him the most withering look I believe he will ever produce in the entirety of the run of MTMTE/Lost Light.

Rodimus concedes to giving Rewind the credit for saving everyone from Overlord posthumously, as well as Fortress Maximus and Chromedome, labelling himself as a failure on that front. Chromedome comes up to the podium for a few words on the love of his life.

…well, it’s been a long day for everyone, I suppose.

Chromedome sits back down, right next to Brainstorm because they’re besties, as Brainstorm stares him down like he knows something Chromedome doesn’t.

Probably because he does.

After the funeral, Brainstorm pays Chromedome a visit, finding him in the middle of spring cleaning. He’s taking all of Rewind’s stuff and shoving it in a box to be destroyed.

Does it count as foreshadowing if it’s like a page before the reveal? I guess so.

Chromedome is trying to ease Brainstorm’s mind about the inquiry Rodimus is conducting, saying that the guy ought to talk to Drift before he gets TOO antsy about spilling the beans- perhaps a touch too late there, Domey- but Brainstorm isn’t here for any of that.

So you’re saying Chromedome/Dominus isn’t going to be endgame.

Turns out Chromedome’s been collecting dead spouses, and he wasn’t even aware of it. When faced with this inherent truth about his personal relationship with grief, Chromedome only has this to say:

Time for a pop quiz!

When the burden of life is too much to bear, what is an addict most likely to do? Is it:

A) Quit cold turkey

B) Seek help for their addiction

C) Relapse

If you answered C, you get a gold star, and a harsh reminder that addiction is a fucking monster that will devour your life and meaningful relationships, leaving you with nothing but itself for company.

Chromedome has had a problem with injecting since he got good enough at it to get his own set of finger needles, and he’s been completely dependent on other people to get himself to even close to stopping the habit. His character bio on the crew roster page has, up until this point, outright claimed this.

Now Rewind’s gone, and there’s really nothing stopping him from just taking that pain away. Brainstorm certainly can’t do it, though not for lack of trying.

Chromedome says that he won’t go through with his plan, but Brainstorm knows he’s lying, because they’ve done this song and dance before. At this point, asking Chromedome to not inject is just a courtesy to the deceased.

No wonder Chromedome invited Cyclonus to the funeral- probably figured why the hell not, since he wouldn’t remember it anyway.

Brainstorm gives Chromedome a data slug- the last one Rewind ever made, shot through the door just before it sliced Chromedome’s arm off, and found by Fort Max. Brainstorm leaves, probably to go prepare himself for that awful, hollow feeling he’ll be getting the next time he sees Chromedome.

Over in the shuttle bay, Rodimus is addressing the crew, Chromedome is retconned into being Toxin because he’s not supposed to be in this scene, and Drift is named as the sole conspirator in the Overlord debacle. Rodimus just starts tearing into Drift, and while he does, we cut over to the medibay, where some zombie nonsense is going on.

Golly, seems like there’s some flavor of undead on the Lost Light every other week, doesn’t it?

Rodimus strips Drift of his Autobot badge and tells him to get the fuck out.

Back at Chromedome’s room, he’s decided to take a gander at what Rewind left behind, plugging the data slug into the computer.

Man, this part always makes me a little weepy.

I can’t do Rewind’s final message justice, not in the choppy format I present here- which is perhaps a bit ironic, given the nature of how it’s presented. In the final moments he had, Rewind pieced together a plea for Chromedome to love himself, and to remember that he was- and still is- loved. He shared his own fears of them being apart, and how he knows how hard the coming days will be. He begged Chromedome to be kind to himself, because he- whether he believes it or not- has grown from the person he was in the New Institute.

As this message plays out, we see Drift swarmed by furious Autobots, who get violent as he makes his way off the Lost Light, only to be helped back to his feet by none other than Ratchet, before climbing into a shuttle, surely never to be seen again.

Shane McCarthy slipped Roberts a twenty to set up a slowburn between his OC and Ratchet all the way back in MTMTE #4. This is the start of the pining portion of their relationship.

God, just- there’s a reason Roberts has claimed this issue as one of his best, and it’s this fucking message. Please, if you somehow have gotten to this post without reading the comics- well, first, how, and second- go and READ THEM. I promise it’s worth it, they’re beautiful and funny and full of heart, even when everyone’s being a dick to each other.

Rewind leaves Chromedome with one final piece, which probably didn’t feel like enough, but was all he could manage in the time he had left.

I’m basically legally obligated to post this panel.

Let’s take a moment to consider Rewind as a character. He’s an archivist, and one who’s gotten very good at his job over the millennia. The guy’s OBSESSED with history, and recording as much of it as possible.

Which stands to reason that he knew about Chromedome’s past conjunx endurae. I mean, why wouldn’t he? It would be public record- even if you don’t necessarily get a marriage license on Cybertron, Chromedome would have been on the paperwork with these other guys somewhere, and the fact that he wouldn’t be able to answer the question of “Who’s this guy you lived with for several thousand years?” Would imply some… rather unfortunate things.

Rewind also has a hard time letting go of things- he gets jealous of Chromedome’s past relationship with Prowl any time it’s brought up, and he’s still looking for his ex-husband after what’s probably been at least a million years. That, combined with the way Rewind lives his life- you know, recording every single moment of it- gives me the impression that he really, really wouldn’t enjoy the idea of being forgotten. He wants Chromedome to stop injecting because it’ll kill him, of course he does, but he also wouldn’t want to be erased.

The video cuts off, leaving Chromedome alone. It’s all up to him now, whether Rewind gets to stay in his heart now.

Chromedome/Dominus is still on the table.

With THAT crisis of love dealt with, we move back on to that weird zombie nonsense we saw a little bit ago. Ultra Magnus is missing. Odd, that.

Ratchet, how many times are your patients going to have to disappear from your medibay before it’s less of a “them” problem, and more of a “you” problem?

As Ratchet goes off to search the rest of the ward, Tailgate accidentally bumps into the death clock, which gives him a nasty little surprise: apparently he’s only got three days to live.

Yeah, this is the point where the comic kicks into overdrive, plotwise- there are no brakes on this train anymore.

#transformers #jro #mtmte #issue 16 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #overthinking about robots #incoming analysis #comic script writing

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