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aprilsrant · 4 years

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Liquid Luck and its wonders | Harry Potter x Ravenclaw!Fem!Reader.

SUMMARY: Harry meets a shy girl from Ravenclaw House. After taking a liking to her, he tries to catch her attention.

WORD COUNT: 1,693.

WARNINGS: none, I think.

REQUEST: Hi! Um I'd like to request a Harry Potter x Ravenclaw!reader where she's pretty shy and Harry has a major crush on her so he's always trying to catch her attention in any way he can? Thank you!

A/N: English is not my first language, there could be mistakes here! If you enjoyed this, like, comment or reblog, whatever you want!

This took a little longer than I expected, but I wrote something and didn’t like it so I had to do it all over again and here it is! I love Harry so I’m really happy someone requested a fic for him because he’s so underrated! Hope you enjoy it!

MASTERLIST. / WORK IN PROGRESS.

Gif below is not mine.

The fake Galleon felt heavier than usual in her hands, the date of their last meeting —the fact unknown to any of them— still engraved in it, gleaming from different angles depending on how the sunlight would shine through the large windows. Not a single day would pass without (Y/N) looking at it from time to time, expecting to see the numbers change, waiting for the return of Dumbledore’s Army.

Once more, reality didn’t reach her wishes.

A sigh left her mouth while she climbed down from the windowsill and abandoned her dorm, Rowena Ravenclaw’s statue watching her back as the sixth year girl started to walk towards the Great Hall, stomach rumbling and crying out desperately for breakfast.

She sat down next to Luna Lovegood, her closest friend, and listened to her comments on Nargles, —“mischievous they are”, she said in a dreamy voice whilst buttering her toast—. (Y/N) knew a lot about the creatures that only Luna and her father believed in after years of being by her side, only separating for lessons and to sleep because of her being a year older than the silver haired girl, although you could find (Y/N) in her friend’s dorm more times than you could encounter Hermione Granger in the Library, laying down on the bed and staring at the canopy filled with little stars that would shine whenever Luna touched them with her wand. (Y/N) had done something similar with hers, but with a glowing full moon instead.

The stars and the moon were never far from each other and neither were them.

Zoning out from her housemates chattering around her, her eyes diverted to the Gryffindor table, quickly finding the remarkable Golden Trio talking to each other. Hermione seemed frustrated, Ron had a delighted expression on his face while the last member had been discussing with the only girl in the group.

Her heart jumped at the thought of them arguing about whether or not Harry would teach the D.A again, just like last year. But why would Hermione be upset then when she was the one who initiated the whole thing? The realisation that they were discussing other matters saddened her. Unconsciously, her fingers reached for the golden coin inside her rob’s pocket.

Glancing back at the plate in front of her, (Y/N) missed Harry waving his hand at her, closing his mouth about to greet her when he noticed the Ravenclaw was no longer looking at them.

Although Harry and (Y/N) were both sixth years and shared many classes, they hadn’t seen each other as much as the first would have liked because of the never ending assignments and most of their free periods spent in the Library.

On the day of tryouts for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, this changed. The girl and Luna had been relaxing near the Quidditch Pitch, resting on top of the grass while the first one read a book and her friend doodled faces on a notebook (Y/N) had gotten her as a birthday present alongside a new set of charcoal crayons, when a large group of people gather around the Pitch.

Leaving the book by her side, (Y/N) began to watch just as a first year crashed into one of the goalposts. Her right hand flew quickly to cover her mouth, a loud laugh trying to escape from her throat. But the laugh disappeared and a tight knot took its place upon seeing the amount of girls trying to catch Harry’s attention, and maybe more.

Luna giggled, her hand still moving around the paper but her bright, blue eyes were flashing with realisation and a funny tingle.

“You like him, don’t you?,” she asked without needing much of an answer.

(Y/N) shocked her head, eyes moving between Luna and the Quidditch Pitch. To her relief, Harry had, apparently, dismissed the girls and they were now sitting on the stands.

But nothing could escape Luna, and most certainly not something related directly to her best friend.

“He fancies you too,” the girl commented casually, like it wasn’t what (Y/N) had yearned to hear since their third year, “you should see how much he stares at you. I was concerned at first, maybe he’d noticed you’ve become infested with Nargles and I hadn’t, but… but then I realised he liked you because I remembered seeing the look on his face.”

“From where?,” (Y/N) questioned softly, still trying to process the fact that Harry Potter liked her. It’s not like she didn’t trust Luna’s judgement —even if people believed she was out of her mind, the girl was surprisingly good for this kind of thing—, but her own insecurities clouded her mind. Did he really fancy her? And if he did, what was so special about her that had captivated Harry’s interest when so many others were throwing themselves at him?

“My dad had the same expression whenever he looked at my mum.” A small smile grew on her face while (Y/N)’s hand travelled to grab one of Luna’s, the one resting on top of the notebook, and squeezed it lightly and reassuringly. “I can still see it whenever he mentions her.”

After the conversation she had with Luna, (Y/N) started to notice more of Harry’s efforts to talk to her while walking to class; after a particular rough lesson of Defense Against the Dark Arts with Snape; sharing hushed instructions (different to the ones in their book but incredibly helpful) every time he pretended to look for more ingredients and walked right behind her during Potions.

Their short exchanges turned quickly into long conversations and shared afternoons, both of the teenagers trying to forget, maybe even ignore for a little amount of time, how dark and obscure was the Wizarding World becoming.

Harry didn’t confess his feelings, —those increasing each time she smiled, or laughed, or gazed at him while rays of sunshine illuminated her skin, making her look even more endearing than usual—, until one particular afternoon.

After succeeding on his mission, —to retrieve an important memory concerning Voldemort from Professor Slughorn that he had altered—, something coming from the interior of his body, or mind, he didn’t know, screaming at him to go to the kitchens. Logically, if a potion that induces luck to the drinker tells you to walk towards a particular destination, then that’s exactly what you do.

The boy wasn’t sure about what could possibly be waiting for him in the kitchens, but after seeing her sitting in one of the large tables across the room, coincidentally the replica of the one she’s used to have breakfast and dinner, he knew the reason the potion had wanted him there.

He took a seat next to her before greeting the house-elves, who were already bringing him trays full of pastries, and struggled to shake the dizziness out of his head —Harry couldn’t figure out if it came from the potion running off, the excitement of finally achieving the memory that would take him one step further to understand Voldemort and his plan, or the nerves that’d always attacked him whenever (Y/N) was near—.

“Hi, Harry,” she murmured softly without looking him in the eyes and grabbing a cookie from the plate in front of her, “what brings you here?”

What brought him to the kitchens and face the girl he had a crush on? Felix Felicis, of course. For what had the potion made him go there? He didn’t want to admit it, Harry didn’t want to confess the urge he had to kiss her whenever she would laugh at one of his jokes, even when they were terrible; he didn’t want to talk about how much he cared for her and how that was the exact same reason why he had taken so long to, first, accept his feelings and to even think about telling her about them. (Y/N) didn’t deserve to be thrown into a war he wasn’t sure he could win. And he didn’t deserve her. She would have to find another person to tease, to laugh with, to confide her problems and desires.

However, the potion hadn’t left his system yet, not entirely at least and enough to make a difference in (Y/N) and Harry’s friendship.

“I-I think I have feelings for you,” the words escaping his mouth before he could stop them, “and they are kind of weird because every time you walk in, or you are close to me, like right now, I don’t know how to act around you.”

No reaction came out of her, not even a slap, which he was kind of preparing for. (Y/N) stood motionless beside him, with the half of her cookie still in her hand, rests of chocolate and crumbs around her mouth.

“I’m sorry if I ruined our friendship, but I just,” he said before releasing a shaky breath,” I needed to tell you that I fancy you and that you are absolutely amazing.”

Swallowing and licking her lips, missing for a few inches the bit of chocolate scattered on them, (Y/N) shifted her position. Her chest was now facing Harry completely, her left leg below her body, giving the impression that she was taller than him, while the other one supported her weight. One of the girl’s hands had barely touched Harry’s jaw when she kissed the corner of his mouth.

“What took you so long?”

Harry could no longer see the chocolate and the crumbs, instead, he was capable of tasting them the second their lips met, hesitant at first but more confident the second time they did.

Whispers coming from the house-elves, —who had stopped, for once, doing their work and were now staring at them, many with tears in their big eyes—, made (Y/N) and Harry to separate from each other, even if it was the last thing they wanted.

“Maybe we should leave,” the Ravenclaw suggested softly in his ear.

Nodding eagerly, Harry took her hand and they both walked out of the kitchens, a grin on each of their faces.

general taglist: @gcdric @lilac-wrists

If you want to be add to the general taglist or to the taglist for a specific character, let me know!

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buckyownsmylife · 4 years

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daddy issues - chapter iv

The one where Ransom doesn’t feel ready to become a father, but he should have thought about it before sleeping with a complete stranger.

When Ransom’s latest one night stand lets him know that he’s going to become a father, he finds himself looking for the qualities he never believed to have so he can become the parent he never got to witness as a child.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist. It’s being constantly updated and if you’d like to be tagged on my following Chris Evans and characters stories, just fill out this form.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Okay, I’m here now. What was the important thing you had to tell me about?” Ana’s arrival startled me, and I almost spilled some of the hot chocolate I had been clinging to like a lifeline while I waited for her arrival. I’d never been one to really crave the sweet drink when it wasn’t near Christmas, but I guess things really were starting to feel different now.

I took a deep breath while I waited for my friend to place her order, trying to get my nerves in check. It’d been a few hours since I stormed out of Ransom’s office and I still felt my heartbeat slightly out of pace, begging me to look for dangers lurking in the shadows that weren’t really there.

This would be my first time telling someone who was already a part of my life about the new one I was supposed to bring into the world. Ana was a mock test for how I would tell my parents about the baby, and the fact that apparently, there would be no other parent in sight.

The thought had me looking at my phone, as if some part of me was still waiting for Ransom to reach out. It’d only been half a day. It was okay if he needed more time to figure things out - this wasn’t exactly easy news to bear, I would know. It took me more than a few hours to process everything.

But still, I was surprised that there was a part of me that believed he would actually want to be a part of this. I didn’t know a lot about him, but from what I did read while searching for his work address, he didn’t seem like the type of guy who would bother showing up as a parent.

“Hello? Are you still there?” Once again I was awakened from my thoughts by Ana’s sweet voice, this time paired with a concerned face. “Okay, now I’m worried. What is it exactly that you need to tell me? Did something happen?”

Okay, here it goes.

“I’m pregnant.”

After the understandable fit of laughter when she immediately assumed I was joking, the following guilty apology for not believing in me and the incessant questioning about how the situation had come to be, I was finally done talking and the reality of what was happening seemed to finally be settling in on her.

“Oh my God, you’re actually pregnant. With Ransom Drysdale’s baby.” Instinctively, my hands covered my belly, even though it was in no way, shape or form, any different from how it looked like just a month ago.

“Excuse me? I’m pregnant with my own child. Ransom might choose to be a part of it, but it’s still mine, I’m not just a carrier for his genes.” Something in the look she sent me had my insides freezing, and I immediately felt vulnerable. “What?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but seemed to think better and shook her head, looking down at her drink instead, but I needed to know. So I reached out and put my hand over hers, so she’d know to look me in the eye again. “What?” I repeated, and even though she took a deep breath to gather her courage, she ended up spilling out anyway.

“I just don’t think you should get your hopes up about him wanting to be a part of this, that’s all.” The sentence surprised me, even though I wasn’t getting my hopes up anyway. It just seemed like there was something she knew, something that made her 100% certain about him not deciding to call me that had my stomach in knots.

It seemed like, even though I didn’t want to admit it, the thought of doing this completely alone terrified me.

“Why?” Again, Ana seemed to hesitate. Still, it seemed like she knew this was something I needed to hear, because after taking a sip of her drink, she launched right at it.

“He’s just not the type, hun. You just moved here, so you don’t know, but he’s always been a screw-up. Everyone was so surprised when he actually decided to settle down with his trust fund, playboy lifestyle and assume his grandfather’s company. I still don’t think he actually works there, anyway. He’s probably just the face of the business, so he’d stop openly doing stuff that’d hurt his family’s name.”

I had heard of Ransom before, of course - hence why the name was recognizable to me that morning at his place. Right after I moved, his takeover became the main story in the local news, and the way it was portrayed by the press made it very clear that the surprising aspect of it was how this wasn’t something to be expected of him. But I thought the bad parts of his story had been a thing of the past - he was a man now. I mean, I never would have slept with him if he wasn’t so clearly older than thirty, maybe even thirty-five. Just how immature could a man in that age really be?

Apparently, a lot. Ana told me as much about his not-so-ancient past as she possibly could, before she had to leave to get ready for a date, and then I was left with a running mind and my fully-charged phone to google the shit out of him, finding much more than I ever thought I could possibly discover on the internet.

Guess finding someone’s work address really isn’t a big deal when their dick is out for the world to see.

Sitting with all of that information only made Ana’s parting words resonate even more through me. “No reason to feel down about it, hun! He’s definitely not worth it. Even if he did end up wanting this child anyway, he’s not really fit to become a father, anyway.”

Maybe it would have been easier to digest all of that if she’d managed to sleep on it and work through her issues in the morning, like she usually did. But all her plans for the evening went downhill when she arrived home in the pouring rain, to find Ransom waiting for her just outside her apartment’s door.

#ransom drysdale angst #angst #random drysdale #my series #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale reader #ransom drysdale reader insert #ransom drysdale reader inserts #ransom drysdale fanfiction

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hopelesshawks · 4 years

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History of Us Part 13- Your Fathers’ Children

Summary: Once upon a time Todoroki and (y/n) were best friends. Now they haven’t spoken in years. When (y/n) is forced to transfer to UA, will she and Shoto reconnect or will their troubled past keep them apart? A childhood friends to enemies to lovers hybrid fic.

If you don’t want to see History of Us content blacklist #hopelesshou

Warning for canon typical violence

Masterlist Kofi

“Don’t tell me I gotta compete with Shinso now too,” Sero groans as he leans over your shoulder. “Aww, scared of a little competition?” you tease him. “No but if you could be a little less alluring that’d be great. It’s hard enough trying to compete with Denki,” Sero jokes. “Who even said Shinso is a suitor? Maybe he just wants to be friends.” “A suitor? Don’t make this sound like the 1800s or something and we’re fighting for your hand in marriage.” “Don’t act like it and I won’t!”

Shoto watches you joking and laughing with Sero from a few rows behind, something angry simmering in him. Sero’d been beaten by Kirishima in the round of 16, so now he’s free to flirt and joke around with you as much as he’d like between your rounds. Denki is currently holding his own against Bakugo but after their battle concludes he’s sure Denki will similarly hover around you. The more he thinks about it the more it annoys him. A small voice in the back of his head reminds him your distrust of him largely stems from his own actions whereas Sero and Denki have done nothing wrong. In fact they’d reacted to the news of your father exactly the way he should have all those years ago. Round after round starts and ends and Shoto pays no attention to any of them except for yours, too caught up in looking at you and wishing he was the one making you laugh like that. His own matches are a blur, even when he faces Midoriya in the semi finals. By the time he’s been declared the victor he realizes he can barely remember any of it. As he helps his friend up off the ground, Midoriya gives him a concerned look. “Are you ok Todoroki? I haven’t seen you that pissed since our first year,” he asks. “Yea, I’m fine,” Todoroki lies, determinedly not looking at the stands.

He doesn’t want to risk looking up and seeing you laughing with the others instead of watching him.

The next round is you and Bakugo and you’ve already descended to the tunnel by the time Shoto’s returned to his seat. Watching you and Bakugo once you begin is mesmerizing in its ferocity. You both respect each other too much to hold back and the amount of firepower you both are executing in your own ways is devastating. Shoto can’t help but wince when you hit the ground particularly hard and he’s sure you must’ve broken something but before Bakugo can land on top of you to pin you down you roll out of the way and stagger back to your feet, giving just as good as you got. It’s too bad the two of you met up in the semi finals in all honesty. It’s a devastatingly close match through the end but Shoto sees the exact moment both you and Bakugo realize you’re going to win. Cementoss looks like he’s a second away from calling a halt as you pin Bakugo down, your forearm to his throat as he attempts to blast it off, looking almost feral as you use your quirk to hold yourself down on top of him. It’s the longest five seconds anyone in the stadium has experienced. Finally the airhorn blows to signal the end of the fight. You ease off immediately, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. You stand back up gingerly before reaching down to help Bakugo up. Shoto expects the blonde to smack the hand away but to his surprise Bakugo accepts the hand up and only manages to scowl at you for a moment before he gives you an almost feral grin, saying something that makes you laugh although it’s impossible for Shoto to hear it from where he’s sitting. You wince as the laugh aggravates one of your injuries and Bakugo rolls his eyes before helping you off the field.

Nezu announces that you’ll be given twenty minutes to recover before they have the final. After about five Bakugo comes back up to the stands. “Damn Kacchan didn’t expect to see you knocked out before the finals,” Denki teases. “Shut the fuck up Pikachu, (y/n)’s the only one of you idiots that had a shot against me,” Bakugo scoffs. “Is she good?” Mina asks and to everyone’s surprise Bakugo barks out a laugh. “Oh she’s fine but she’s pissed,” he snickers. “What why?” Jiro asks. “They’re letting the kid help recovery girl with injuries and she accidentally rewinded (y/n)’s hair back to its natural color too. The two finalists are gonna match,” Bakugo explains, causing several heads to swivel to Shoto as if trying to picture what you’ll look like with half white hair. “I’m going to prepare,” Shoto says, quickly standing and leaving his classmates and their gazes behind.

Time passes quickly and before Shoto knows it it’s time for the finals to start. He walks out to the cheers of the crowd and moves to the start. Shortly afterwards you emerge from the opposite tunnel. He sucks in a surprised breath when he sees you. A memory surfaces of the two of you being six and begging Fuyumi to take a photo of the two of you before your fathers returned from work. You had insisted on standing on Shoto’s right side. He can practically hear you whining “Sho-chan our white sides need to be touching! The mom sides!” He’s shaken from the memory when he notices you’re not looking at him but behind him. He turns to see what could possibly hold your attention right now and sees you’ve locked eyes with his father who’s standing at the railing with his arms crossed. The melancholy the memory had brought forth was swiftly and suddenly swept away by a burning rage. The moment “start” is called Shoto lashes out with his left side, scorching flames shooting in your direction that you just barely manage to dodge. “Of course you started with your flames,” you scoff as you retaliate but he manages to dodge as he begins to close the distance between the two of you. You prepare yourself for an ice blast but are surprised as he instead chooses to tackle you, you’re quick to make sure he doesn’t have you pinned, both of you rolling along the ground. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite,” he spits out as he tries to freeze you in place. “Excuse me!?” you reply incredulously finally managing to push away from him before launching your own counter. “You heard me,” he responds, his voice sounding almost lethal despite his even tone. “How, pray tell, am I a hypocrite?” you question as your quirk responds to your growing outrage at the accusation. Shadow and fire meet and begin to swirl around the two of you, creating a vortex that whips your hair around your face. “You go on and on about not wanting to be defined by your father yet you have done nothing but define me in terms of mine since you got here,” he accuses. “You chose to align yourself with him, not me!” you spit back. “Bullshit!” “Fuck you!” You both dive at each other, the sports festival all but forgotten to you both as you each continue to lash out. “I am not my father,” Shoto bites out. “Nor am I!” you fire back. “I have never once thought you were!” “Then why were you afraid of me!” you finally sob out. “What?” Shoto asks stunned. You’ve got him pressed flat against the dirt beneath you but the vortex continues to swirl around, hiding you both from view as Shoto stops fighting back. “Is that what he told you?” Shoto presses. “I mean it was understandable I guess but I just.... I thought if anyone would know that my father being a monster didn’t make me one, it would be you,” you confess. “I have never been afraid of you,” Shoto tells you and as your (y/e/c) eyes meet his blue and gray ones you can see the honesty there.

Only then do the two of you seem to realize how much your quirks have spiraled out of control. Your arm is burning where it touches Shoto’s left side which has been burning consistently since the two of you had started your shouting match. The black veins have expanded well past your forearm, up your neck, and onto your face. You realize Shoto’s overheating, if the sweat pouring down his face is any indication. Both of you have tears on your cheeks, although you can’t be certain when either of you started crying. As your emotions calm down and you both process what’s been said the swirling vortex slowly dies down and dissipates. The countdown starts as the two of you finally become visible to the anxious audience but Shoto makes no move to push you off. Instead the two of you just stare at each other as all of the hurt and anger finally drains out of you both. The airhorn blows to signal your victory but neither of you notice. “I’m sorry,” you breathe out, chest still heaving from exertion. “I’m sorry too,” Shoto responds and next thing you know you’re both laughing incredulously with relief, as if a thousand pound weight has been lifted for the first time in a decade. You roll off of him to starfish out next to him on his right side as you’re both racked by the laughing fit. Considering the display of violence you’d both just presented it’s probably a disconcerting sight, but neither of you can help it, too giddy with relief. When the laughter finally subsides to hiccuping giggles you both turn your heads to look at each other.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too Sho-chan.”

A/N: When (y/n) and Shoto were trapped inside the vortex everyone was freaking out cause they couldn't tell what was happening. Cementoss thought they should end it before things escalated any further but Aizawa told him to just let it be. Present Mic then questioned why all the feral students end up in Aizawa's class and Aizawa just kinda grinned in response kjhbadvehf

Taglist: @sorrythatspussynal @miss-bakugo-writes @pixelwisp @larkspyrr @sokkaandzukosimp @akkaso @sunaispretty @mindofess @todoplusultra @oliviasslut

#hopelesshou #shoto torodoki #shoto smau #shoto x reader #shoto x fem!reader #shoto x y/n #todoroki smau #todoroki x reader #todoroki x fem!reader #todoroki x y/n

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mrwinterr · 4 years

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The Devil Always Works Harder

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x Female Reader

Summary: Your husband can’t make it back in time for your wedding anniversary. The town’s sheriff takes notice and doesn’t plan to let you celebrate alone.

Warnings: Adult themes 18+ | Smut (unprotected & non/dub-con sex, vaginal penetration & fingering, belly bulge, breeding kink). Infidelity. Corruption. Language. Manipulation. Sexual assault. Mentions of alcohol consumption & misuse of drugs (date rape drug).

Disclaimer: The Devil All The Time (2020) film spoiler-free! Please be careful if you’re out in public and NEVER leave your drink unattended! I’d rather go thirsty than accept a drink from someone I’d just met, seemingly sealed in a bottle or not.

A/N: I’m not sure when date rape drugs became a thing, but for the sake of this fic, let’s just forget about specifics in the drug timelines.

Seconds turned into minutes, minutes quickly turned into an hour, and already you’d drank at least two glasses of water, ate a small basket of bread that was offered, the second growing stale in front of you, and you even made a trip to the restroom, but still there was no sign of your husband in the dimly lit restaurant.

Tonight, was your third wedding anniversary but it felt longer than that. You and your husband were high school sweethearts, so there’d been plenty of anniversaries throughout the years, and the love never faltered. The pair of you were very understanding and caring of each other. He was really the one.

He’d been away for at least four days now on a business trip, and while you were used to him traveling for work, tonight was different. It was your wedding anniversary, and he was set to return to town in time to celebrate another milestone of the relationship. It’s not like there was much to be excited about when hitting the streets of Knockemstiff, but tonight you were given a reason to look extra nice and just enjoy an evening out with your husband, maybe even cap it off lovingly in bed. Who knows? Maybe tonight would even be the night you two start trying for a family.

You do your best to sit there trying to not look so dejected as you stare at the condensation budding on the outsides of your glass of water, but you’d been occupying this table for a long time now while the other occupants enjoyed their dinner around you. They just had to have noticed you’d been stood up by now. The eyes felt heavy on you. It’s not until the waiter tending to you the whole night breaks the spell.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Sitting up straight you listen to what he has to say; perhaps if you needed yet another refill or wanted to go ahead and place an order, but it wasn’t any of those. Instead, he informs you that they’d received a phone call a few minutes ago from your husband, claiming he was extremely sorry for not being able to make the reservation.

Still keeping up with appearance, but you know you’re failing miserably to look okay, you thank the waiter for the message and leave a decent amount of cash to pay for the establishment letting you practically loiter there for an hour and occupy the table.

Before you leave, you ask if you can borrow the phone to make a quick phone call, which they were kind enough to allow you to. Your husband had given you the number of the hotel he was staying at a few towns over, and you wanted to not only make sure he’s okay, but at least speak to him on your anniversary.

“Hello?” You hear his tired voice through the receiver.

“Hey, babe, it’s me,” you reply, clutching the phone closer to you, like that’d make you feel any better. The distance was still large, and you longed for him to return.

“Hey! Honey, I’m so sorry,” he says, very apologetic, “the client is asking us to come back and present a final pitch tomorrow and then they’ll make a decision on if they want to sign a deal with us...”

The company he worked for was very prominent and credible in the area. He provided for you both just fine and you knew how important this client was to them. He was leading this pitch with his boss close by, and you were made aware that if they successfully closed this deal it would send him to a promotion and you’d both be set, enough to possibly leave the rough town of Knockemstiff. This was no place for you, and he was determined to get you both out of here as soon as he could.

“Oh, yeah. No, I get it,” you respond, trying to sound as understanding as you could without giving off how crushed you actually were that he wouldn’t be returning tonight. Twirling the coiled telephone cord around your pointer and attempting to lighten the mood, “I do. I know they’ll sign!” You boost, and hear his cute laugh drown with the static of the connection.

“Happy Anniversary,” he says sincerely, and you can tell that he genuinely feels bad for standing you up tonight, but at least he had the decency to call the place and let you know.

“Happy Anniversary,” you repeat then continue to let him speak. He promises you he’ll be back tomorrow and if everything goes as planned, he’ll spoil you with a trip, a little getaway for you both. It fills you with so much hope that after the exchanges of “I love you”, the call ends, and you’re feeling slightly better than you had minutes ago.

Make no mistake, you were still upset, letting your make-up, hair and dress go to waste. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to extend a trip. You thought you were used to it, but again, it was your anniversary. It knocked you down a bit that life was cruel enough to not let you have just this one thing.

As if that wasn’t enough, the sudden downpour was the cherry on top of it all as you were now left standing on the sidewalk, using your long dress coat as a makeshift umbrella, while waiting for a cab. You’d taken one earlier to the restaurant, but the idea was to go home with your husband in his car that he’d taken for the trip.

You contemplate for a few minutes to leave your post and head back towards the restaurant to stand under the awning for shade. With this much rain, you were doubting you’d be able to hail a cab anytime soon. The water seeps into your nice heels with each step through the puddles, water splashing against your legs, and the ends of your dress dripping.

Once under the tiny roof, you shake off the water on your coat before slipping your arms back through the sleeves and try to warm up as best as you can, while waiting for the rain to let up.

“Mr. Perfect stand you up, tonight?” You suddenly hear a voice pipe up next to you. The voice is smooth and a familiar one, and not just because it was prominent to the townspeople of Knockemstiff, but because you’ve heard it almost your whole life.

You turn to see Lee Bodecker, childhood friend and the town Sheriff, uniform-clad, badge slightly fogged from the moisture of the weather but still as shiny as ever on his left breast pocket and topped with his campaign hat.

“Hey, Lee,” you greet him, ignoring the comment about your husband, as he lights a cigarette.

He always called him that and hardly ever by his first name. Even physically around the man, he’d resort to calling him by his last name and you’re not sure if it’s because there was something personal between them or where you all stood in life, but surely them having known each other since high school you’d think there would be no need for formalities amongst...friends? Acquaintances? Whatever they were to each other, they weren’t strangers.

You’d lived in Knockemstiff your whole life and was around the same age as Lee. You grew up going to the same school, church, camps...he was a constant in your life. You liked to think he was a friend. He on the other hand liked to think more. He always wanted more than what he already had.

“You look nice tonight,” he compliments before blowing out a cloud of smoke into the stuffy air.

“Thanks, but no,” you begin explaining why you ended up alone tonight, “he’s having to extend his business trip,” not like you owed it to him or anything, but you suppose it wouldn’t hurt to kill time talking to an old friend.

“You sure it’s not something else…” he trails off while looking forward, not paying mind to your bewildered expression. Of course, you’d think that was the most outlandish idea. He knew you were madly in love with your dear husband and he would never think twice about him cheating on you. The two of you were just too perfect. It was almost sickening to him.

“He would never!” Your voice raised, but not as to shout out at him, but loud enough to appear insulted and defensive. Your arms crossed over your chest, upset that he would insinuate your husband would be unfaithful to you. You trusted him and he trusted you, that’s what made the dream work.

“I’m not saying he would,” he says flicking the white stick of the ashes on the end, “...would be a damn fool to,” the last bit more to himself before taking another drag.

If he thought you didn’t catch the last part, he was wrong. You weren’t completely oblivious to Lee’s advances, no matter how little they were. People talked, your husband especially, noting the soft spot the Sheriff had for you. He was always nice to you and you didn’t think any harm of him. He was rough around the edge, but that’s how he had to be. Plus, he was married, and your heart was spoken for.

“How’d you know I was even here?” You ask curiously. How did he know your husband was a no show tonight?

“Think I’m some stalker?” He jokes, a grin spreads across his features, and you blush embarrassed you’d made it sound as if he was a creep, “I was hungry and heard this place was nice.”

He was in there? You’d been people watching the whole time you were inside, and not once did you recall spotting Lee at a table. You shrug that thought aside, settling with the fact that he was a trained official, and it was his job to blend in and keep a watchful eye.

“I wouldn’t know,” your remark sounding a tad bit petty. You didn’t get to eat anything on the menu aside from the free bread. A few more seconds go by, before he speaks again, waiting for the uncomfortable topic of your date being cancelled tonight to pass.

“You’re never going to catch a cab in this weather,” he points out, tossing the rest of his cigarette onto the soiled ground and stomping on it. He hears you let out a big sigh knowing he’s right. “Come on. My car’s not too far,” he offers, his head cocked to the side in the direction of the lot.

The last thing you wanted to appear as was helpless, but that’s what you were in this moment. Spirits down, soaked and stranded. You shrug your coat off again to cover your head before reluctantly accepting his offer, not noticing the wicked curvature of his lips on his pudgy face.

He wasn’t having dinner inside that restaurant at all. He was aware that your wedding anniversary was tonight, and had your husband been able to attend, Lee got some sort of sick pleasure in tormenting him in front of you, even with something as silly as bringing up a past memory unfavorable to your beloved, and luck seemed to be on Lee’s side tonight.

Lee knew where you lived. He’d visited a few times from the outside, and as an official he knew the town almost like the back of his own hand. The rain seemed persistent by the second. You could make a run for it up the steps of your front porch into the safety of your home, but you knew how bad the roads could get on a stormy night. Lee didn’t leave you stranded tonight, and you wouldn’t feel right leaving him stranded in his police car overnight.

You hang your coat on the nearby rack by the front door and extend the courtesy to Lee, who hands you his hat and worn-out leather jacket. He slips off his wet shoes, not wanting to leave a trail of muddy prints in the pristine home. It was a beautiful house. You kept it nice and clean, it was basically a model home. Lee couldn’t help the scowl on his face, while your back was turned to him as he followed you deeper into the house, just thinking about how your husband won again. His home couldn’t compare to what he gave you.

After stowing away your heels in the closet, trading them for a comfy pair of house slippers, you tell Lee to make himself comfortable in the living room, while you disappear into the kitchen to make a quick snack. You opt for a nice variety of meats, cheese, crackers and some fruit on a small charcuterie board.

When you returned to the living room, Lee had been inspecting the artifacts that decorated your home. The framed photos of you and your husband, his bright smile almost mocking him as he glared at it. He’d sure like to knock that smug son of a bitch stiff himself, alright. Other items that scattered the home were of the souvenirs from his trips, tiny religious figures, and other trinkets that made the home your own. Oh, you had it made, he thought.

Lee never liked your husband. He believed he was well on his way to snagging you, until he moved into town that year during high school, and when you both met, people called it love at first sight. Lee felt like he was always out bested by him, he one-upped Lee in almost everything. It was ridiculous, but it wounded his male ego, and even up to now, with the kind of power he possessed, he still felt like he came in second place and your husband ultimately won because he had you - the real prize.

He does his best to maintain his composure at the sight of your exposed cleavage, the dress you wore accentuated your bust nicely, as he turns around just in time to see you bent down to place the board on the coffee table. When you come back up, you offer him a seat on the couch.

“Got anything nice to drink around here?” He asks, and you mentally scold yourself for not being a good hostess and initially offering him a beverage upon arrival. You list out a plethora of usual choices, water, coffee, tea, a bottle of pop even, but he was looking for something hard. Neither you or your husband were heavy drinkers, so you didn’t stock up on liquor, but tonight was supposed to be special, so technically you had something.

“Well, I do have this nice bottle of wine, but…” your words trailing off. You probably wouldn’t be able to enjoy it anytime soon. If your husband successfully closed the deal tomorrow, he’d probably be thrust with more responsibilities and longer hours, before you two could escape on that getaway he promised to take you on. “...I was saving it for my anniversary tonight,” the words come out pathetically and you curse yourself for even mentioning you had the bottle and its purpose, but you were awful at lying.

He lets out a tiny scoff, no doubt amused on being reminded that Mr. Perfect couldn’t be here to rightfully celebrate your union. “There’s no use letting it go to waste, right?” He says, it was almost effortless on his part, like his whole domineering appearance made people bend to his every will.

“I guess you’re right,” you agree and turn back around to grab the pricey bottle and two glasses. It was a little weird at first, drinking with an official of the law, but he did his best to make it feel more like two friends catching up over drinks.

Suppose it had been the effects of the alcohol, you were definitely not a frequent drinker, but it made you feel more at ease and open enough to get through the night with your guest. Lee knows very well that you’ve been a good girl your whole life. The girl next door. An angel in his eyes, who attended church regularly and lent a helping hand to the community, he knew with his track record you’d never settle or trade the life you had now to be with his sorry ass. Not to mention, he let himself go after his marriage to Florence; he’d settled that was for sure.

He kept tabs on you, more than of the suspects he’d be tipped about. You figured he was just dedicated to his job and not much of his seemingly harmless rounds around your usual routes. It wasn’t a big town after all; you ran into people all the time.

With your legs folded underneath you, the alcohol settled itself in your system enough for you to relax, not realizing your dress had ridden up, so much that if Lee were to just recline a few inches back, he’d get a peak of your panties. The food and bottle of wine halfway through, Lee started probing into your personal life. Was everything all that it cracked out to be? Were you really happy with your husband? What did he have to do?

He works his way cleverly in conversation. Starting with old memories of growing up together and embarrassing high school moments, before asking the more personal ones. The elicited memories served as a blanket of faux trust, to get you to confine him. Good old Lee, you’ve shared countless memories with him, you could trust him, right?

You didn’t realize you’d drunkenly admit how you’re ready to start a family with your husband, but the thought of his impending promotion would halt the idea. Maybe he wasn’t ready just yet. You’re alone at home for the majority of the day, you were ready and were getting tired of waiting, but you made a vow to do whatever it takes to make this marriage last even if it meant putting a pause on things you wanted.

Lee notices the wistful look that washed over your delicate features. On the outside you were happy, but on the inside, you yearn for more. A better life outside of Knockemstiff, with a more devoted husband and someday soon a baby in the picture. No doubt, he would’ve given you that immediately...

“I’d never leave yo-” he quickly catches his slip-up, before recovering, “Florence. I’d never leave my wife alone, especially on our own wedding anniversary,” he says, voice growing almost husky, and suddenly you’re uneasy at the close proximity between you two.

You could even smell the alcohol on his breath, see the way it made his lips shine, staining it a deeper shade of red. You remain unmoving for a moment, like you’re hypnotized by his alluring blue eyes. You thought they were rather nice, very different from your husband’s eyes. Your mind clouded, you started convincing yourself of something you’d never felt before, an attraction to Lee Bodecker.

It was absolutely not a match made in Heaven, but Lee always wanted a taste, and you were the embodiment of forbidden fruit. He notices your glossy eyes but thinks nothing of it. You’re scared, scared to break your sacred vows, ashamed of yourself for thinking about someone in another light other than your husband.

Not wanting to turn this into a pity party or even think about what would happen if you didn’t cut the tension now, you excuse yourself and keep busy by cleaning up the remnants of your “dinner” and pick up the charcuterie board to take back to the kitchen and begin cleaning up. The slight wobble in your step indicates you’re almost gone and would have to call it a night.

In your absence, Lee fishes out a tiny plastic bag he had stashed with him from a previous bust. Some stupid teenage party, and with his power, it meant he had access to all the confiscated substances the precinct collected. He decides to pour you both another glass but pays special attention to yours. When he hears the rush of water from the kitchen, he takes advantage of the stalled time to slip and allow the drug to settle in your glass, careful to measure just enough based on your body mass, so as to at least keep you conscious.

When you reappear, Lee stands up, glass in each hand, yours outstretched to you. You want to refuse, knowing your limit, but not wanting to be a downer, you give in and accept the doomed glass.

“To wedded bliss?” Lee toasts to you and your husband, raising his glass slightly up towards yours, to which you force a smile and clink the cup ware together.

Two gulps in, your head starts spinning, and you blink your eyes a couple of times to keep your line of vision straight, but it doesn’t. Lee sets his glass back down on the coffee table and swoops right in, an arm cradling the small of your back to keep you steady before you stumble to the floor. He grabs your glass and sets it next to his, still holding you close, your hands are covering your face as if to wipe off the effects of the alcohol.

“You alright there, gorgeous?” He asks with a light pep in his voice as if he found some humor in this. He certainly did. You were a lightweight and it wouldn’t take long for him to finally get what he’s always wanted. It couldn't have been more of a blessing in disguise that you were left all alone, vulnerable on this particular night of your life. The devil always works harder…

“Yeah, I-I think I just need to lie down,” you say disoriented. Eyelids heavy, you try to focus on Lee’s concerned face, your hands settled on his chest.

“Then let’s get you to your bed so you can rest properly,” he nods before taking your hands in his calloused ones. He reveled in how soft they were and how nice they’d feel wrapped around his cock, tugging him until he came undone.

“It’s okay, Lee,” you attempt to thwart his plan and remove your hands from his. A part of you had some sensibility to remind you that your bedroom was sacred, and no one else, especially another man that wasn’t your husband should be left alone with you in it, “I-I can...m-make it there on...m-my own,” you struggle in convincing him.

“I’m not so sure you can, sweetheart,” he starts to reason, “just let me help you,” and then pulls your body back to prevent you from falling again. You let out a strange noise, which causes him to laugh. You stagger in guiding him to the master bedroom, but soon enough he’s successfully laid you on top of the large bed.

As soon as your body hit the mattress, you felt weightless, almost as if you were floating in the clouds. Nothing hurt and nothing mattered, it felt kind of good, suppose that’s why some people abused certain drugs. It wasn’t until you felt a pair of rough hands running up the length of your thighs, dangerously close to the hem of your dress.

“What?” You speak out ever so confused, hands coming down on his wrists to stop him from traveling further up.

“Relax, babe,” Lee says as tender as he could be, your hands weakening their hold, “I just want you to feel comfortable in your own bed.” He was crossing a line and had you been able to think clearly, you’d have kicked him out, but Lee didn’t even entertain that possibility at all. What were you going to do? Call the cops? He was the law. No one would believe you.

“I-I,” you stutter profusely, “I don’t think you should be...doing that,” you manage to say, his hands long gone under your dress, grabbing the sides of your hips, hands full of your flesh. You weren’t going to lie, it felt nice to be touched again, but as soon as Lee started to lean in, your legs bent up to block him, your body still playing in defense over him. His hands reemerge from your dress and settle themselves on top of your knees.

“Lee, I-,” all words disappear from you, you can’t seem to find them or the strength to enforce them, especially when he parts your legs, climbing into bed with you, he maneuvers his body to settle in between, and he’s careful to not crush you with his weight.

“What is it, baby?” He asks, then tests the waters by planting featherweight kisses on the skin of your exposed cleavage that’d been teasing him all night, “What do you want?” Each kiss burns, but the substances flowing through your veins turns it into sheer pleasure that you start to lust for more.

His lips make their path up the column of your neck, until their ghosting right above yours. Your breaths mingled with one another, eyes staring at the small gap between your lips. Your mouth opens and you try to speak, but nothing comes out. Lee however takes the initiative and closes the space, his tongue wasting no time delving right in.

When the muscle makes contact with yours, you’re not sure what to do at first. A part of you wanted to voice out that you’d wanted him to kiss you, relieve you of the frustration, and the other part wanted to demand he get off. You were always faithful to your husband, the initial shock needed to pass by first.

Lee notices your frozen state, and coaxes against your lips, “don’t fight it, baby,” his hands wander and explore all the fields of your body, “you deserve to feel good...I can make you feel good...better than he ever could.”

Your head starts to turn to the side, your willpower isn't going down yet still putting up a fight against this act of sin, but their efforts fail as he forcibly grips you by the chin, directing you back to his lips. The kiss is sloppy on his part as you’d still manage to not reciprocate his affections.

“You’re allowed to feel good, doll,” and by some unexplained phenomena, it was as if his words gave you the push, the permission, to give in to temptation.

When he’s sure you’re locked in place, he lets his hand loose to grope at and knead your breasts through the material of your dress. Your lips started to relax and move against his. His handy work causes you to sigh through your nose and it encourages him to slide the straps down your shoulder, pull at the top of your dress, and yank at your bra, allowing your breasts to spill out.

The skin-to-skin contact causes an abrupt jolt to course through you as you involuntarily arch up into his body. Your sensitive nipples rolling in between the pads of his fingertips, causes your breathing to hitch. Lee tears his lips away from yours to take a gander at your exposed top half, and he audibly swears at the very sight. That son of bitch husband of yours, keeping you housed practically all day, away from anyone. He can’t entirely blame him there, he’d want no one to get any ideas of you behind closed doors either. At least they could agree on one thing - you.

Breathless, you start tugging at the end of his tie, desperate to feel his lips back on yours, and he doesn’t disappoint, going in for a bruising kiss. Your hands unwittingly start undoing the knot at the front of his neck, unbutton the top of his shirt, but he stops them, and pins them at the sides of your head. He was going to leave his clothes on for now, not sure if you’d be turned off by him - drugged or not.

You let out a whine and stare up at him with big, pleading eyes. The smirk on his lips, makes your stomach flip. You were losing this battle. You sealed your fate, there was no coming back from this now.

Lee ruts his hips forward, the rough material of his pants scraping against your delicate under garment, and you let out a guttural moan, his hard on evident and poking at you the more he does it because he loves each and every sound that escapes you.

He lets go of one of your hands and revisits an earlier task, slipping back underneath your dress. His fingers push aside the slit of your panties, enough to let him run his fingers through your unashamed wet folds. It was so wrong, but you couldn’t control the itch anymore. Lee hisses lightly, the effect he had on you all too evident.

His ministrations are slow and calculated, running his fingers up and down, your arousal coating his digits, rubbing small circles at the nub, and just right at the entrance. You inhale sharply when he slips a finger in, your hand still cuffed by his other, the intrusion causes your fingers to curl around his wrist, your nails slightly puncture his skin. You’d only been with your husband, and the comparison between him and Lee were indisputable.

He drags his finger back out before digging in again, this time almost knuckle deep. You bite your lip and stare back at his eyes that have turned dark, almost black, full of desire. He’s all but enamored by every bit of reaction he pulls out of you. He’s judging by the looks of it, your husband didn’t think out of the box, wasn’t exciting enough. What a bore, he thought. A woman like you, deserved to feel all sorts of pleasure. And you felt incredibly tight around his digit alone, he could hardly wait to bury his cock inside you.

“That feels good, huh, baby?” He pretends to ask, but he knows it does. It’s written all over you, you’re breathing deeper, eyes closed, intensified by ecstasy just running through you. Nonetheless, you nod in response, and it turns him on even more at how obedient you are.

“You want to feel more?” He tempts you. Your eyes flutter open and look at him again, faces close once more, the tip of his nose nudging your own. Growing impatient with your answer, without warning he curls his finger inside and lightly scratches at your walls.

“Yes, yes!” You say, stunned by the sudden trick, but also loving it.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, right before reclaiming your lips with his. Your complete and utter mush underneath him, his kiss sends your mind in a frenzy. Your hands fisting at his short hair, any trace of inhibition completely leaves your body.

He pulls you into an upright position, lips never parting only for the brief seconds when he pulls your rumpled dress over your head. Your bra casted aside, hanging on the edge of the bed, closest to your husband’s side as if to mock him.

You attempt to untuck his shirt, pulling roughly at the material, Lee laughs at your eagerness. It’s all but muffled as your other hand, at the nape of his neck, pulls him impossibly closer to you, lips moving feverishly on his. The faint stubble on his face burning the corner of your lips and jaw, a sharp contrast between your husband, who kept a clean-shaven face.

Lee parallels your legs to easily pull your panties down, then gets between them once more before pushing you to back down on the bed. You lie there, watching him hovering over you, your eyes travel down his large body and are mesmerized on his hands working to unbuckle his pants. He leans into you again, and kicks his pants off, the thud of the metal belt clanking on the bedroom door serves as an indicator.

You daringly, sneak your hands down south and grip his hard cock through his boxers, catching Lee off guard. Your heart pounded heavily in your ears, all you could hear was the sound of blood rushing as you felt, firsthand, at what you’d be dealing with tonight. It only increased your appetite and sexual curiosity.

Palming him, you start to gauge at the length and girth, but you didn’t want to leave the rest of the imagination, so you reach in and pull his member out, the tip already leaking with pre-cum, staining your palms. He bucks into your hands and you both let out sighs of pleasure when you start rubbing the bulbous head of his cock on your soaking cunt.

Lee swats your hands away, wanting to be in control again. He rids himself of his boxers, tosses the end of his tie over his shoulder and on his back, and picks up the flaps of his police shirt. He does all this to give you both a clear view of his cock as he slowly sinks into your wet channel.

As soon as he disappears inside, so deep you feel the underside of his clothed belly against your lower body, Lee looks up at you, desperate to see your expression, getting off at how good he made you feel. Your head thrown back, lost between the fluffy pillow you were resting on, mouth hung wide out. He was so much bigger, and Lee knew then that he won in at least one other aspect of their little battles.

You gripped him like a vice, your body not used to this kind of intrusion. He moved in-and-out slowly, the tear from each stretch of his thick cock gradually became less painful. Lee studies your facial features, waiting patiently as the creases between your eyebrows start to disappear, and your breathing turns from choking on air to puff sighs and breathy moans.

Your thighs start to loosen and the walls that grip around his hard member relaxes, your eyes peer open again and get a glimpse of the work. You start whimpering at how just as good it looked than it felt. Lee snaps his hips hard the next time, now that the worst part has passed.

As much as he’d rather plow you deep into the mattress at a fast pace, he also wanted to savor the feeling of your warm walls, squeezing him just right for as long as he could last. Who knows when he’d be able to get you alone again? Maybe he should stop by more when Mr. Perfect was out on another business trip.

His thrusts back in are long and hard, a strangled noise escaping you each time, only fuels him. He picks himself up, resting his body weight on his knees, he hooks his arms underneath your legs and pulls your body upwards, your ass resting on top of his thighs. You grip at the bedsheets, a corner popping off, as the new position allows his cock to probe at different areas inside you. It didn’t take long for you to convulse around him, wrecked with euphoria from the orgasm.

Your legs falling slack in his arms when you come down slow. It was apparent, you hadn’t had it that good in a while or Lee would peg, ever, just convinced he was a better lover in bed than your husband. He was wrong before; you could have it so much better with him. Lee reaches over to caress your face, skin hot and cheeks flushed, but the touch provides a sense of comfort and tenderness.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he says blown away by the sight of you overcome with pleasure, and spread open, completely bare for him. His eyes scanning your body from your head to where you both were connected.

That’s when he notices it. His hand travels down and braces itself on top of your belly, right where his dick poked, feeling the slight bulge. The mere thought of you swollen riled him up. If you wanted a baby, he’d give you one. You didn’t need to ask if he was ready or not, he’d give you however many you desired.

“You want to be a mommy so bad, dontchu?” his voice all gruff and thrusts picking up speed, “I’ll give you a baby,” he promises and continues to pound into you, tenderness a thing in the past. It was now all about his climax and living up to his new promise.

“Huh?” you question, a sense of knowing creeping back in when he says this, “no, no, please don’t,” you start begging, legs trying to kick him off before he cums inside, “Lee,” your pleading hopeless and futile against him as his hips ram into yours forcibly, no doubt you’d be incredibly sore in the morning at the sudden roughness. It gave him a thrill to fuck you in the same place where you and your husband slept.

His lips litter wet kisses all over your exposed neck, you pay no attention to it as the tears stream down the corner of your eyes, burn your ears, and you’re exactly what you hoped to not appear as, completely helpless. The death grip he has around your waist holds you still long enough for your body to absorb every drop of his seed. You hadn’t realized your hands were braced against his sweaty shirt as if to attempt to push him off, but he was much stronger than you, they formed into clutching onto handfuls of the material instead as you felt his load shoot into your womb.

For a few minutes, Lee stays put, still inside of you, trying to remember how you feel around him. He filled you to the brim, as some of the mixed juices pooled around the base. Lee lets out a low groan, as your walls involuntarily contract around him, like you’re trying to suck him back in as he slowly pulls out.

He collapses on your husband’s side of the bed, but just before he does, he reaches down at his discarded pants on the floor for the carton of cigarettes in one of the pockets, the lighter in the other. When he’s back in a reclining position, a few drags in, he looks over the opposite of him, and studies you.

Your body shining with a thin layer of sweat, hair matted and stuck on parts of your face, your breathing had seemed to regulate once more. It might as well appear that you were sleeping and not recovering from a good fucking.

“You still with me, doll?” He asks for safe measure before lightly tapping the sides of your face. When you make no protest or movement at all, he mentally applauds himself for a job well done. You’d sleep through the night and he’d be long gone before your husband returned.

By now, the rain had since died down, roads were safe for driving, and well into the late-night hours. Lee finished his cigarette and decided it was time to tidy up and make his exit. He’d set the scene as if you’d been drinking alone tonight. He carefully slipped your clothes back on, tenderly wiped you, and even cleaned the glass you were drinking from earlier, to rid of any traces of sludge, in the kitchen sink. He did everything to make sure there were no holes in this plan.

Before Lee leaves you, he stares at your sleeping fame. So sweet, he says to himself, while tracing the outline of your lips with his finger then leaning down to feel them soft against his for one final taste.

The next morning you hear your name being called out repeatedly, and even with the slight pounding ache on the side of your head and remaining grogginess, you recognize the voice to be of your husband’s. He was back, and you regrettably attempt to sit up to welcome him home with loving arms, but the sudden and quick movements only increase the drumming in your head.

“Whoa, take it easy, babe,” he says, gently resting his arms on yours and pushing you back down on the bed, “looks like you had a long night,” he comments.

“What?” You ask why he’d think that. You don’t remember much of last night other than him cancelling on your wedding anniversary...and the very vivid dream you had about Lee Bodecker. Yeah, too vivid it made your stomach flip, but also it felt all too real except it couldn’t be. You’d never sleep with another and break your vow and he was a married man.

He figured you’d have trouble remembering, but he explains that he found the opened bottle of wine, you’d saved for the both of you, the stained glass next to it on the coffee table, and you passed out in bed still in your dress. It was then you noticed you were still in last night’s attire, so any wild thoughts that crossed your mind earlier of infidelity were scratched out.

“I thought something was wrong,” he expresses worriedly.

“Why would there be anything wrong?” You ask now confused. Despite the dull ache in your lower region, you were in the safety of your home, and you didn’t have a history of drinking heavily before, so last night was just a fluke.

He starts informing you of how your kind and elderly neighbor had noticed a sheriff’s vehicle parked in front of your house for a few hours, “…said she’d gotten worried something had happened to you when she saw the car...” he pauses, a hint of annoyance on his face at his next words, “...but said once she saw Lee step out, she knew you’d be safe, and well, I can’t disagree with her on that. Lee would never let anything happen to you.”

You didn’t even pay attention to his last few words, too caught up when he revealed Lee was in fact here last night. The idling, dull ache now suddenly growing, and you do your best to swallow down the small bile rising in your throat at the revelation that confirmed your suspicions. The dream you had about Lee couldn’t have been a dream, but reality. Not only had you committed adultery, you were ashamed of the heat between your legs at the flashback of how good he made you feel.

You knew you’d never consent to such a thing. Was this a case of sexual assault? And could it be classified as one if you were just as willing? It confused you greatly, not wanting to believe Lee manipulated you to having sex with him. You couldn’t recall any part of how it began, where he had done something wrong other than also cheating on his wife. Oh, poor Florence, you thought to yourself and it only added to the headache.

“I guess I owe him some form of gratitude for making sure you’re okay,” he says reluctantly, almost a little pained and forced, “oh honey, don’t strain yourself,” he advises, nursing your obvious hangover.

He’d mistaken the look of sheer horror and internal heartache for illness. Like the doting husband he was, he helped you slip into something comfortable and less restricting before heading into the kitchen to fix you up something light to eat.

As you laid there in the tainted bed, you prayed for forgiveness. You lived your life carefully and to your best ability, morally, how could this have plagued you? Was there an appropriate way to confess your infidelity to your husband? He wouldn’t tolerate it, you knew that much, and you wouldn’t blame him for leaving you.

The thought of a life without him scared you, but not as much as the possibility of a life that wasn’t a product of your love growing inside of you.

A/N: Yeah, I don’t even know. I’ve been reading a couple of Lee Bodecker fics and I was tempted. Thanks for reading! Please give this a like, reblog or comment if you enjoyed!

#mrwinterr writes #lee bodecker imagine #lee bodecker smut #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan smut #tdatt fic #tdatt imagine #the devil all the time

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Note

Idk if you still accept requests but can you please bless us with more Levihan Witcher AU?Hanji as a bard/alchemist is so on brand for her.

anon, thank you so much for this ask! you woulnd’t believe it, but this fic was sitting in my drafts for almost six months, and your ask finally motivated me to finish it! this is super self-indulgent and also my nerdiness for witcher series is definetely showing but eh.... hope you still enjoy it <3

The town of Rinde, near the edge of Redania, was as shitty as they came.

The roads were washed away with dirt, the huts (calling them houses would be an exaggeration) stood dirty and even and kids were running around, dressed in torn clothes and without any shoes on.

Needless to say, all of it disgusted Levi.

And, really, he would have skipped that town altogether, it didn’t look like there was anyone there, who was rich enough to pay for hiring him, and, since he wasn’t on a hunt for a long time, he really needed to find someone, who would toss that coin to the witcher. He would have skipped that town, he almost did, but then he heard it. His witcher senses had picked it up immediately, the faint sound, the voice that was unmistakable for him, even though Levi hadn’t heard it for almost a year.

He headed in the direction of that voice instantly, the Roach following after him with an unusual willingness. Maybe, the horse has sensed her as well. The Roach always liked the annoying bard, after all.

After reaching the small tavern near the outskirts of the town and tying Roach to the outpost, Levi stopped in front of the door, giving himself the time to change his decision.

The tavern wasn’t up to his standards. At all. Even without seeing what was inside, it was enough for Levi to see the moldy walls to understand that he was standing at the threshold to a shithole.

He should have turned around and escaped this town. The nightfall was approaching and, as far as he knew, there wasn’t a town or even a village nearby. He’d have to sleep under the stars again. It was more preferable to stepping inside the unkempt tavern.

Besides, even without his supernatural senses, he could hear that the place was full of drunkards. Some shouted out vulgar jokes and laughed boisterously, some sang loudly and quite terribly.

And amidst all of it, there it was. Her voice that was laughing and singing with the rest of the patrons. For anyone else it would have been hard to decipher just one voice out of the dozens of others, but for Levi, this voice was special.

There were no doubts in his mind anymore. He pushed the door open.

All conservation ceased as soon as Levi walked inside. Well, that was to be expected. What was unexpected was the absence of a loud cheerful shriek greeting him. Although... considering the way he parted with Hange a year ago, maybe, he should have expected it as well.

Nevertheless, she paid him no attention, didn't even look at him. Levi's mood worsened. Glaring at all the patrons, he made his way to the bar.

"Tea," he ordered gruffly.

"Tea?" the maiden, who was standing behind the bar, raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Are you sure? We have ale, beer, vodka..."

"I don't want that piss that you call ale and beer here, and I definitely do not want to taste whatever the fuck substitutes vodka in this shithole. Just simple tea. You have it, I hope?"

"I'll look around...." the maiden nodded uncertainly. "Anything else?"

"If you have some soup that'd be great."

"Alright, I'll bring your order in a minute. Are you going to stay the night?"

Levi's eyes immediately darted to Hange. She wasn't looking at him. He sighed.

"We'll see about that."

Levi spent the whole evening boring holes into the back of Hange's head. She didn't turn around even once, too busy having fun with her new friends. As he watched the merry group in front of him, Levi couldn't help but scoff. Most of them, both men and women, were already smitten with Hange. He could see it in the way they subtly touched her hand or squeezed her shoulder, in the way they smiled dreamily and blushed every time she looked at them. Hange always had an uncanny ability to charm people. If it was her silvery voice or just the natural charisma, Levi wasn’t sure. He hated it nevertheless.

Not because Hange managed to put him under her spell as well (she did not) but because he hated when Hange paid attention to someone, except him. Apparently, even witchers could be childish sometimes.

However, considering what he had told Hange at that mountain, when anger and frustration took over him, maybe, he didn't deserve her attention anymore.

Still, Levi felt bitter, watching Hange’s smiles and teasing directed on someone, who wasn’t him. He missed her, goddamn it. It took him so long to realize it, but he enjoyed Hange’s company so much. The hunts just weren’t the same, if she wasn’t by his side, splurging some weird facts she read from bestiaries at Oxcenfurt. The roads seemed longer without Hange, who filled the silence with one of her new songs or her musings about the life. And even though, Levi always acted annoyed whenever Hange claimed that the nights were too chilly, so they have to sleep together to savor the warmth, now, since she wasn’t sleeping by his side anymore, even a brightly lit fire couldn’t make the cold disappear.

Shit, he was in such a deep shit.

As the evening progressed into the night, the patrons slowly started to tinker out of the tavern. Levi watched each of them carefully, trying to guess which of these lucky bastards would leave together with Hange.

However, soon almost everyone had left. The only other person, who was still at the tavern, was Hange.

As soon as the last customer went on his way, she sat atop the table and took out her lute.

She plucked the strings of the instrument, tuning it in. Throughout the evening, Hange sang numerous songs, all of them were accompanied by laughter and applause. But not by her lute.

A special lute that was given to her by an elf after her last one was destroyed and after Levi had threatened the said elf to break her nose if she dared to put that miserable expression on a pretty face of his bard ever again.

It was a shame that Hange still refused to look at him. He always enjoyed looking at her while she played. Her expression always matched the song she was performing - if the song was fast and catchy, she would be grinning from ear to ear, lightening up the whole room, and if she was singing the sad one, the one about heartbreak and tragic love, her face was mournful, her eyes distant.

Hange started to play, and Levi recognized the song instantly.

A storm raging on the horizon of longing, and heartache, and lust

Damn, of course, she decided to sing that song. Evidently, Hange was out to torture him as much as possible.

“I dedicate it to you, Levi!” she announced after she had first presented it to him.

They were in the middle of a road, resting in front of a fire after an exhausting hunt for a Nightwraith. Well, Levi was resting after an exhausting hunt, Hange was sitting beside him, blabbering almost nonstop. She sang a song to him too, after shyly confessing that this was her latest creation.

“How the fuck can this song be about me?” Levi grunted then. “It’s about woman, dipshit.”

“Ah, but a song about a man won’t be popular amongst my fellow bards! So I had to change a few things there and then.”

“So my kiss is that sweet?” he asked, fighting back a smile.

Hange snickered, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “And it destroys me each time.”

That memory – amongst hundreds, millions of others – kept replaying in his mind, as he listened to her beautiful voice. Hange was called a genius, one of the most talented bards in all Northern Kingdoms.

Levi always considered it to be bullshit. He was sure that even in Nilfgaardian Empire there wasn’t an artist half as blessed with a gift of music as Hange was.

As she finished the song, Hange got to her feet. She slanged her lute over her shoulder and headed to the bar. As he watched her order, Levi hid a small smile – it seemed Hange was still inseparable with the damn lute. Some things never change, it seemed.

His musings were cut off abruptly, when Hange sat down at his table. In her hands she held two cups with something that smelled very much like piss. Levi cringed.

Hange finished the first mug in one go. She wiped off her mouth and then put the mug down with a loud ‘thud’. She pushed the second mug to Levi.

“Drink,” she ordered, glaring at him.

“I don’t get drun—”

“Drink,” she pressed. “I don’t care if your stupid witcher physiology enables you from getting drunk. I won’t have this conversation if one of us is sober.”

“Alright,” Levi nodded and took a large gulp from the mug. Oh, so that was ale. Disgusting. “Are you happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Hange crossed hands on her chest. “Now answer me this – what is so interesting about the back of my head?”

“What? I don’t—”

“You do,” Hange cut him off once more. “You do understand. You’ve been staring at me the whole evening. Don’t you have something better to do? Some important witcher stuff? What the fuck are you even doing here, Levi?”

“I…” he cleared his throat, feeling small under Hange’s furious gaze. “I needed somewhere to spend the night.”

“And that’s why you decided to spend your evening in the company of drunkards, eating your soup in a corner?”

“Maybe, I’ve missed the human’s company.”

Hange threw her head back and laughed. “You missing human’s company? Don’t give me that crap.”

“Well…” for a second Levi fidgeted with a sleeve of his armor, refusing to look Hange in the eyes. It was now or never. Either he apologizes to Hange right now, or there won’t be another chance to reconcile. He took a deep breath and lifted his gaze. “Maybe, I’ve missed you.”

Hange’s eyes widened just a fraction. She composed herself almost immediately, but Levi noticed the slight change in her. Could it be that not everything was lost?

“Bullshit,” Hange answered, her tone even colder than before. “How can you miss the person, who destroyed your life again and again? Who is the sole reason for any hardship you had ever faced? Who does nothing, but shit on your future?”

Levi silently lowered his head, not even trying to stop Hange’s angry tirade. He deserved every word, every insult she threw his way. He would endure a lot more offence from her, if it meant that Hange would forgive him. If everything could go back to normal. If Levi could finally reunite with his best friend.

Hange took a deep sigh and stood up. Levi looked up at her gingerly, expecting to see her storm out of the tavern. Instead Hange went to the bar again, ordering two more mugs of ale, and returned to his table.

“They are for me,” she told curtly, when Levi tried to reach to one of the mugs. “I really can’t deal with this sober.”

“Hange…” he cleared his throat, feeling more nervous and vulnerable than when he was staring at a mob of harpies. “The way I treated you was awful… I was angry and needed someone to pour that anger out, but you didn’t deserve it. I’m asking for your forgiveness, but if you can’t grant it… just say so. I promise not to bother you after this.”

“Sweet Melitele,” Hange shook her head. “Tell me, Levi, are all witchers assholes, or was I just lucky enough to meet an exception?”

She took a long sip of ale, wincing and wiping her mouth afterwards. For a long moment, Hange stared at the table, tracing the invisible patterns on the old, wooden surface.

“I forgive you, you dumbass,” she said finally. Her words made Levi’s heart swell. He stared at her, hope shining in his gaze. “But I have two conditions.”

“Anything,” Levi promised readily.

“Anything, huh?” Hange arched an eyebrow. “Are you really that eager to have my forgiveness or are you just naturally so brave?”

“Both,” he replied, shrugging.

“My first condition,” she smiled in an almost feral manner. Shivers ran through his spine, but Levi didn’t allow himself to shudder. Showing his fear would only make Hange crueler. “I want you to help me with my experiments. I found a new potion and I need a person with fast metabolism to run some tests on it, and I need to extract four front teeth from algoul for my next concoction.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Hange nodded. “As for my first condition. My second one,” she paused, leaning in and grabbing the collar of his armor. “I need you to give me that sweet kiss of yours.”

“Well,” Levi smirked, moving closer to her, before their lips were almost touching. “Ready to be destroyed then.”

#oh god this thing is probably incomprehensible for anyone who didn't watch the show or read the books #ah well :')#levihan

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jyunshiim · 3 years

Text

Daisies & Clementine’s *✬★*’☽* ✬ ⤷Han X Reader

Genre → fluff | friends to lovers | childhood friends to lovers |

Contains → fluff

Listen to → playlist I was inspired by

Word count → 7K (7749)

TW → none

Summary: You and Jisung have been childhood companions for many years. Growing up was a breeze for you both, sharing a lot and being there for each other when each other were in need. Jisung asked you one day if you were allowed to spend a month holiday on Jeju Island with him and his family. A simple holiday, yet held great value.

The saying goes, that there is one person in the world that is meant for you: a soulmate. Although some soulmates aren’t so easy to find, hidden in the depths of the shadows of your life almost hidden until the last moments of your life. Unfortunately, it does happen but what is more common are soulmates that don’t even know it yet. Only until you feel like you’ve lost them or that they might not return what you have for them until something ever so specific happens.

***

The stars were glittering in the ebony abyss above you and your best friend Jisung. Jisung had always been your friend ever since that one time in school where you were mocked for not understanding a mathematics question and he helped you and became your tutor ever since. You weren’t the best with number and often struggled with understanding mathematical concepts but Jisung was there for you and took his precious time to study with you, day in day out. Without fail, his warm grin always consoled you as if he was indirectly telling you “it’s okay, I’m here for you”. You knew he’d be your home and your comfort even if you both went your separate ways and found love one day. You were both 16 at the time when he used to tutor you and by the time you both turned 18 and were making crucial life choices, you made choices you were 100% sure with. You didn’t want to leave Jisung behind and going to the same local university in your city was the only thing you could do to stay with him. Your parents didn’t like the idea of you pursuing a career in arts, particularly anything to do with literature and writing. It was deemed ‘useless’ in their eyes, so lacklustre of you. They were certain you weren’t getting anywhere with a degree in literature, but you loved writing; it was your form of expression. Jisung supported it all the way through. He chose to do music composition and production which he was outstanding at. You vividly remember during your summer break he wrote a song about the pair of you going to the convenience store and made it sound so mesmeric. Your best friend Jisung. What would you do without a friend like him?

***

The biting cold making icicles at the tip your fingertips, the tip of your nose as crimson as sweet cranberries, your knee bouncing up and down trying to warm you up. “what’s taking him so long?” you say to yourself as you stand up although during that moment, you see a chestnut brown-haired boy bolting down the streets, his fleece long jacket flailing in the polar winds, the hood of his hoodie falling off his head. Your face lights up – as always- when you saw his panicked face bolting through crowds of people who too were shopping. It was so endearing how he ran, a half jog half run. You laugh to yourself gripping the heat packs in your pocket until he arrived in front of you his hands, knuckles tinted light carmine, resting on your shoulders panting for breath.

“where were you?” your hands searching your pockets for the heat packs you had and holding it against his face, Jisung sniffling because of the cold weather. “I-I was trying…trying to buy something and the-” he struggles to speak as he holds his chest. “hey Jisung stop talking, let’s get you warm,” you hold his hand, a heat pack between your palm and his; fingers interlocking to keep it in place. It made him feel warm inside and out, a smile appearing on his face as he looked down, his brown wavy hair flopping down. The café had a homely feel, ever so reminiscent. You never knew why; possibly the rustic feel to it the lower ceilings and roof supports with warm fairy lights coiled around them. The counter was made out of a light wood, oak perhaps. You weren’t too keen on identifying trees. “You sit here okay, and I’ll be back with our drinks okay Han?” only you were allowed to call him by his surname although he claimed it as his nickname. He nodded, smiled sweetly and sat cosied up in an arm chair. “Do you want me to hold your bag for you?” he grabbed your arm before you left and you turned around. “oh yeah sure! That’d be great thank you,” you take your bag off your shoulder and he grabs the bag into hands and places it in his lap.

Jisung loved bitter coffee paired with a sweet dessert. The pure happiness he would endure simply from a strawberry cheesecake and any type of Americano coffee, hot or cold. It was different to you; you loved sweet drinks and savory-ish snacks (although a cheesecake was always so delightful when you were with Jisung). Jisung’s eye would sparkle, like he was holding the entire universe, whenever he saw something, he loved. Damn you for being so blind, his love for cheesecake was godly. Jisung warmed up, the condensation on the window making it fog up so he drew a smiley face. He was happy. You walk over with your tray and he immediately got up to take the tray out of your hands and place it down himself. “you never disappoint me,” he gasps at the creamy cake and the piping hot coffee. “I’m your best friend I will never forget until the day I die!” you pledge to him before sitting down giggling at his endearing reaction to such a simple food. You tear a bit of your croissant and place it in your mouth letting the subtle sweetness and savoury enthral you. The combination with your caramel macchiato, the combination of flavours combining and comforting you. Jisung introduced you to the caramel macchiato and croissant combination and ever since you got that every single time. “how are you feeling now Han?” you ask him, whilst leaning on your hand and tilting your head at him. He gazes into your eyes and smiles endearingly, “a lot better now, I was trying to get your birthday present, and I got held up! I am sorry about that,” he apologises. “what! You didn’t have to what the hell!” you lean over the table and slap his shoulder gently. “hey it is MY duty to take care of you until someone decides to sweep you off your feet,” he tuts, “they better treat your right!” he warns you for your future relationships. You nod and agree with what he says, “well my bestie Hannie will be there for me and likewise I will be there for you too!” you rub a tiny spec of cheesecake from the corner of his mouth, “a child, that’s what you are,” you joke with him.

You were disrupted by a strong gust of wind that collided with the glass where Jisung drew his smiley face and droplets of rain appears dragging down the window. The pattering of the raindrops where almost rhythmic, like the universe was performing for you. In fact, you loved the rain a lot that you wished to have your first kiss in the rain – it was cliché and cheesy – but Jisung always listened to your dreams and desires and what you wished for. The rain was comforting, like the clouds were telling you it was okay to be sad and to cry now and then. You were full of content in this given moment; a warm coffee between your palms, the icicles melting off and the colour in your frostbitten hands appearing. “do you want to try some?” Jisung scoops a spoonful of cheesecake and hovers over the table holding it in front of you. It was endearing, he always shared everything he had and of course you did the same. “of course?” you take the spoon from him and taste the cheesecake. The sweetness infiltrating your system as soon as it touched your tastebuds. “wow this place does really good cheesecakes, perhaps I’ll have to come here more often!” you smile at him. The bellicose rain thrashed against the window now, the winds were stronger, but you had to leave to get home although you needed to take a 30-minute bus journey back home and the weather was abysmal! “you are in no way going home in this weather!” Jisung tutted, “luckily, I do live literally around the corner,” he was definitely inviting you over, he was very clingy! “I can just go home; the bus comes in like-” you check your phone. 45 minutes. “never mind I will gladly take your considerate offer,” you laugh. “ah these buses aren’t the best now are they, let’s go now before there are too many people on the streets!” he stands up fixing his little jacket and handing back your bag. “unless you want me to hold it,” he offers. He was so selfless and sweet. “you’re not my boyfriend so why would you! It’s okay, I can take it back,” you play around.

***

You thank the baristas before Jisung pushes the glass door open for you and lets you go first. “I don’t have a hood!” you squeal before putting your hands above your head but Jisung was on his feet to the rescue, holding out his jacket and covering you with it. “let’s run to the convenience store alright! In 3, 2, 1-” you clutched onto his jacket covering you and bolted with his laughing at the playful noises he made before sheltering at the convenience store. You looked around the store for a few things to snack on. “I’ll pay so get whatever you like since you paid for my coffee,” he holds the basket. “shut up, you bought me a birthday present when I didn’t want you to!” you tut at him, “god what am I gonna do with you?” you scoff jokily. You see a pile of Clementine’s which you had to get because you loved them so much and it reminded you of the summers you used to drink fresh orange juice with Jisung near the river. You put them in the basket and Jisung looked confused; “oranges?” he looks at you with confusion. “I just really like oranges Jisung,” you smile. He took a mental note of that. After grabbing a few snacks, it was still raining, and he did the same thing again sheltering you with his own jacket and running to his house which was a minute or two away.

The door to his home creaked open, and the warmth hitting your face as quick as a train on tracks. The waft of freshly cooked rice drifts past your nose and it reminds you of all the times you and Jisung got stuck in the rain, just like this very occasion, and his mother made warm rice with a savoury soup. Jisung takes your jacket and takes it to his room to hang it up and comes back to the kitchen. “it’s raining bad so is it okay if-” Jisung gets cut off by his parents, “of course she can! Any time and if she needs to stay, we can accommodate her too!” His mother adored you, it was endearing. After your quick dinner with his parents, which his parents were more than happy to provide for you, you sat in Jisung’s bedroom. His room was as neat as it could be. When walking in, his bed was in the far-left corner pointing towards the large window, to the right of his room was his mic, computer and music equipment and next to that was his shelf with various different items like trophies and frames as well as the daisy chain he made for you. He also has his TV attached to the corner of his wall.

“oi why did you keep the daisy chain?” you asked him as he turned around, his hand on the remote to turn on the small TV in his room. “it’s pretty, isn’t it?” He gives a playful smile before jumping onto his bed and leaning against the headboard. “I never took you for such a sappy sentimental person,” you nudge him. “you learn something new every day,” he smiles before turning something on to keep you occupied. This was just comfort. Just you and your best friend of many years, spending quality time together. Your head lay on his dog plushie – which you gifted him so he would stop complaining he was lonely –your locks sprawling over it. Jisung glances over to you entranced by your own thoughts, a whole world inside your mind – he was intrigued as to what you were thinking. “hey, what are you thinking?” he sits up leaning down so he was in front of your face. It only came to your realisation he was laying next to you, face to face to get your attention. You sit up. “oh umm-“ you think fast, “the oranges!” you point at his desk at the clementine’s sat perfectly in the punnet it was in. You and Jisung spent an hour or so watching a show and talking about university and how you want to travel the world. He listened to you attentively to every word you said before his parents knocked and said that the rain storm had stopped and they can take you home. So shortly after, you gathered your belongings and Jisung followed you and his parents to the car. You forgot one thing, your hair tie that had a little rabbit charm on it; you had it ever since you were little and you forgot it at his house, at least it was Jisung though. Since then something changed in the air. A shift. Although only time will tell and expose what changed.

***

6:35 am your alarm blared through your bedroom, your head tucked under your grey and white sheets trying to accumulate warmth since you had to manually turn the heating on. You groaned tiresomely, your arm extending to find your phone, knocking it off the bedside table. You wanted to cuss it out because morning where NOT your forte. You sit up and grab your robe and draped it over your body and go to the bathroom to freshen up before getting ready for university. Jisung woke up at 8 because the campus was so near but you had to commute. You took your time doing your makeup and getting dressed, grabbing your bag and putting your notebook, laptop, stationary and your pouch in. You grab a jacket and your umbrella before promptly leaving at 7:57 am to catch the 8am bus to get to school. You managed to get to campus just before your lecture allowing you some time to get coffee to wake up a bit however… that plan did not seem very doable since the queue was incredibly long, so you gave up and went to the library to sit in your usual seat and wait for the lecture.

“hey!” you hear a whisper, and you ignore it thinking it was for someone else before you feel someone breathing on the back of your neck. Your instinct would be to slap the person but as you turn around with a fearful expression, you realise it’s Jisung with his starry eyes giving you that smile. “I got here early and got you your favourite,” he points at the seat you both sit at which was hidden behind a bookshelf. It was a large table where no one really sat since students preferred to work in groups. University life was different to high school. You had other friends which was nice; Sana did Biochem, so it was hard to get a hold of her, Chan was a sports and exercise student, and Seungmin studied nutrition. Jisung also had some friends from high school like Changbin who was doing the same course as you – literature- although he focused on the poetry section more, and Hyunjin who studied business and management. You did meet them often but of course you were closer to Jisung.

You saw the packaged croissant and the coffee on the table, and you thanked Jisung. He took his time to actually get you coffee before your lecture. “you have a couple minutes, at least you can drink it during the class!” he pats your shoulder. “don’t you have a lecture at 11am?” you ask him since that’s when yours finish. He nods. “I’ll be done by 2-ish? We can go and grab some lunch if you want?” he suggests. “how about we meet with Sana, Chan, Seungmin and Changbin for lunch?” you counter-suggest – if that is a word!-

“is Hyunjin busy?” Jisung asks a little confused. “Oh no he WAS the one who asked the other day and I replied to him now.” You smile so Jisung goes along with whatever you wanted to do.

You open your notebook to take some notes for your class and you see Changbin walking in and he sees you. Changbin was intimidating, at first glance, although he was sensitive and kind when you talk to him and get to know him better. “hey, I’m not late right?” he asks getting out his Ipad to take notes. You shake your head; “have you got your anthology yet?” Changbin asked you. You shake your head, you forgot about the anthology. “well that’s good because I saved you one,” he hands you the book of poetry. You were relieved, your degree relied on this book. “oh my god thank you!” You show your gratitude. “anything for a friend of Jisung’s and mine,” he smiles before turning back to face the front as the lecturer walks in and begins.

After class and meeting with your other friends for lunch, you all met at an Italian restaurant which was incredibly popular. It had been a while since you had a meal with all of them since classes took over your lives. “hey isn’t your birthday tomorrow?” Sana asks, her sweet smile brightening up the entire room. “Yeah it is wh-” but before you could say anything, she hands you a tiny pink bag. “I might have time so I got your gift today!” Sana was such an amazing friend. You thank her and open the bag and the small box inside to reveal an teddy keyring with your initials engraved on a small silver plaque looking keyring. “omg this is so cute thank you so much!”

“Now, open my one,” Jisung holds a blue bag with silver ribbon on the front. “now?” you ask him. “well yeah you opened Sana’s one?” so you opened the bag and it was in a slightly larger box; once you opened it a small gasp left your mouth and at that exact moment the food arrived. “what great timing I’m so hungry!” Changbin went in for the food and everyone else followed, conversing with each other and catching up, but you were still trying to process what he bought you. A silver necklace with a daisy charm and both of your initials on the back. “I’ll always be here for you, you know how that daisy chain is so sentimental to me, I hope this is too.” He leans in and quietly speaks. You were lost for words. You tried to splutter out a thank you, but he knew how thankful you were from your mere reaction.

The evening went as planned; you and your friends hung out after so long, work was intense but having a cheat day like this was indeed liberating. Jisung taps your shoulder gently as you wave Sana goodbye under a dimmed streetlight and the obscure night sky. It was hazy tonight; the cool fog making it hard to see anything ahead of you. Jisung stood next to you and you turned to him once Sana left. “are you thinking what I’m thinking Han?” you give a playful smile and rock back and forth on your tiptoes, “coffee and cake?” he asks as if he didn’t know that was your thing with him. “Of course!” you put your hands on his back and push him in the direction you wanted to go in; “over there!” you point. It was a night café situated along a remote street that was diverted away from main traffic. A large white sign lit up the dark street which directed you and Jisung to a well-lit night café that had a couple people inside enjoying their night with their friends or significant other. There were outdoor seats which weren’t occupied because of the drop in temperature but it would be nice to come here more often since the location was incredible. Jisung pushes the door open and lets you in first, following you and looking around for somewhere to sit. A circular table with two chairs in the farthest corner which was surrounded by bookshelves but renowned authors; Jisung chose to sit there and asked you to go and reserve that seat. “What are you doing?” your voice conveying disarray. “it’s on me tonight,” his smile appeared. That smile. Your heart did that thing again though you shook it off. It was nothing right? You sat yourself down, putting your purse on the table along with your phone; the books were intriguing you, there were many of them ranging from sonnets and poems to crime and mystery literature. You knew you weren’t much of a reader, but one did capture your attention. It was by an author called Ivan Turgenev, the book was called ‘First love and other stories’ – people writing about love was something you wish you could’ve done but you don’t know how love feels? The cover of the book was rough a cerise fabric-like texture, the title written in a gold on the spine of the book. Jisung comes over unexpectedly and leans over your shoulder eyeing at the hardback you seized. “what’s that? Love stories?” he pouts as you turn around in a panic, Jisung grabbing the book out of your hand, his fingertips grazing against your hand. If you had your Apple watch on right now, your heart rate would’ve been way too obvious. “O-Oh I was looking at the book shelf, they have so many well-known books and authors an-” your flustered ramble was interrupted by Jisung; “you want to read love stories, that’s understandable… it’s a good book I would recommend it,” he hands the book gently and points at the tray with the coffee cups filled to the top, the two cheesecake slices; one orange and the other strawberry. You gasp at the orange cheesecake – “oh my god they exist!” you sat down at the table, tucking the chair in. The aroma of the roasted coffee beans was intense although it made you feel comfort. You glance up at Jisung as he picks up the silver form and digs into the tip of the cheesecake, allowing there to be enough strawberry syrup and cheesecake. He holds it up to his mouth and notices you looking at him – with the most stupid look on your face, painted with adoration – so he held it out for you. “here, try it before I do,” his expressions were soft and gentle. “huh? Why, it’s yours?” you try to refuse. It didn’t work. “because-” he thinks for a second, “sharing is caring.” He fondly beams. You couldn’t deny it but he held the fork and you endured such sweetness swirling around, dancing on your tastebuds, the bitterness of your coffee counteracting with the dessert; it was utterly perfect. “nice?” he asks. “of course, as always!”

You didn’t realise at the time, but it was an analogy that you didn’t realise. The bitterness occurring in your life being stabilised by someone so sweet, attentive and ever so cherishing. It made sense.

You took a forkful of your orange cheesecake although it didn’t cater to your taste. “are you alright, do you not like it?” Jisung asks you. You shake your head, “ it tastes too artificial..” you hold the remaining cake on your fork and place it on the plate. It was disappointing, yes but Jisung swapped the ceramic plates with his. “here have mine, I’ll have this!” he takes whatever remained on the fork and takes a bigger chunk. You know what they say about sharing drinks, does it apply to forks? “O-oh thank you Han,” you smile softly, you couldn’t help but feel so warm inside. After spending some time at the café it was time to go home although Jisung insisted he would take you home safely first before he goes home. “no no, I can go myself,” you asserted. Jisung tutted and rolled his eyes playfully as he always does. “Why?” you ask waiting for a valid response. “Because it’ll take you even longer to get home!” you raise your voice a little louder but not too loud to bring attention. “well.. I’ve stayed over before..” he reminded you. Ah yes.. he did didn’t he. Your parents were okay with Jisung and already mentioned that if you dated him, it’d be best. God why did they think like that? “I’m joking, I’ll get a taxi and we can go together,” he thought. You nod agreeing with him.

A couple weeks pass and you were on call to Jisung whilst studying. It was really late, around 2am but your Film project wasn’t going to do itself. He kept company since he just never slept. “want me to come over to study with you?” he asks. You were shocked at the offer. “at 2am? Are you crazy!” your voice becomes a little harsh as you tried to stay quiet. “maybe we should look for campus accommodation or an apartment we can split the rent for!” he suggests. It wasn’t a horrible idea, there would be some leeway for you to do whatever you like. “I’ll see for next semester; we can get looking though!” although you didn’t realise, he meant move in together. You and Jisung met up later that day at the university library, your laptop with all your editing software open, editing your short film that you filmed of him. It was about how you romanticised life and how everything was symbolic for something; Jisung pointed at himself. “what do I symbolise,” he asks tilting his head taking in the moving image. You pause, what if your feelings have changed? You lied. “you’re my best friend of course,” you smile through the pain knowing he will never feel the same. His cheeks flare a rosy hue. Even such words made him happy. “hey,” he enquires, “are you free August 1st?” you think for a moment. “That’s a couple months away but I should be, I can make sure nothing happens that day, why?” You seemed so confused. “My family and I are going to Jeju for a visit and I was wondering if you wanted to come as well?”

Oh.

“That would be nice, I haven’t been there yet either,” you let out a quiet laughter. “please, it would be so nice to have you there too!” he leans into you a little and laying his head on the table and smiling. Stop smiling like that – you think. “maybe I’ll consider it if you weren’t acting like a child,” your nervousness was seeping through. “a child? Isn’t that just my ecstatic personality hm?”

You scoff and continue focusing on your editing, a deep feeling of resent brewing within – why did you film Jisung AND fall for him? Wasn’t falling in love with your best friend a crime in any friendship? You took a deep breath; if you ignore it, it will be fine.

You stare at your oyster-white ceiling, covered in plastic leaf vines along the ends of your room the window open ajar enough to let in the gelid night breeze in, gliding onto your begs making you quiver. You didn’t want to shut it, you were too consumed by sundry thoughts about him; the way your heart thumped out of your chest, it paining you to see his boxy smile or when he would run up to you and embraced his arms around you tenderly full of compassion. He cared so much for you but you felt like you were too late to return any of it. Feelings are the way they are; ruthless in nature, eradicating almost every bit of rational though you possessed. You groaned feeling ever so dishevelled. You hand on your chest and a stone in your throat; you found it hard to accept you liked him – a lot more than just ‘like’, that word was too ineffective. Jisung’s pure demeanour flashes in and out of your head; when his hand touched yours when you held that one book at the night café, the way he let you have his jacket as a shelter, the way he kept the shrivelled-up daisy chain on his shelf; it was the way he did everything for you. Jisung played the guitar for you nearly every time you asked and sung for you even though he wasn’t confident in his vocals. But you didn’t want to bring your hopes up and embarrass yourself. That’s when it happened – the butterflies intruded and that’s when you knew your monotonous routine of life was demolished. With that being said, your eyes began to heavy, shutting slightly before your eyes fully closed. Dreamland is where you were transported to you…

Your trip to Dreamland gave you all the answers you needed.

It was a Saturday and you waited outside of a café waiting for Jisung. It was warmer, much warmer. You remembered that one winter’s evening when you and Jisung were caught in a storm in the exact place. You switch your phone on to see the time, the photo of you and Jisung gleaming back at you. It was a cute photo; Jisung slyly ate some of your ice cream getting a little bit on the tip of his nose and you laughing at him and wiping it off with your thumb. Your other friends really liked capturing you two, they said you were soulmates which you ignored because you didn’t believe in soulmates. Emphasis on didn’t – times change and so do people.

“Hey!” Jisung startled you, nearly dropping your phone. “you alright there,” he chuckled at you. “Not funny!” you couldn’t help but smile. “you seem to be in a good mood!” he smiles with his teeth, draping his arm around you, clutching his fist to respect you. “so what do you want to do today?” he asks you.

“why do you keep asking me?” you pout slightly. “why not?” Jisung pushes his hair back, his chestnut locks resting back into its natural position.

“We should go to a café then get matching bracelets because YOU promised we’d get matching ones and then maybe at sun set, go to Namsan Tower?” you suggest. “Did you plan this last night when I told you to go to sleep?”

You didn’t, you saw it in your dream.

“l-lets just go!” you grab his arm and take him inside the café to get a cool drink to quench your thirst.

His eyes attentively scanned the menu, looking at all the cold drinks he could get. “what are you getting,” he asked. “hmm I really feel like having the grapefruit one!” you point at the menu, “what are you getting?” you ask Jisung, “which one sounds nice?” he asks again.

You can the menu again; “blueberry tea sounds really tasty!” you say. He nods that same look of compassion; he was enthralled by you yet you didn’t even know.

***

She was beautiful. The way she looked up at me and smiled; her fierce attitude to everything made me want to scream, toss and turn in my bed; she made the butterflies in my stomach go wild. I was foolish for falling for her – my best friend – but what can I do if whenever I see her, the tempestuous storm within me is appeased at her presence. She makes me feel at home. Her amicable nature, so captivating. The face she made when she was displeased was endearing even if she thought it was hideous, to me she was like a gem that was waiting to be found and I’m glad to have found her first. I was devoted to her; there won’t be another who makes me feel the way she does. She’s my first love. And I am willing for her to be my last if nothing is returned. Her happiness is all that matters to me…

***

Sipping your drinks in the sunlight was refreshing. You both got your bracelets to match; inexpensive yet it meant the whole world to you – and him. “there are some benches over there!” you point, grabbing his spare hand without a second though and running towards it. The sun began to wane and the stars began to emerge; simultaneously, the sky bled into an inky black allowing the stars to glow and gleam brightly. It was like how Jisung endured everything for you to let you shine. Like in school, how he would quite literally get hurt to keep you safe. You owed him a lot. “isn’t the moon really pretty tonight?” you point at the lustrous pearly orb that reigned the void sheathing the earth. “yeah, she’s really pretty tonight,” Jisung speaks softly. You didn’t realise how Jisung said ‘she’; he gazed at you, infatuated by none other than you. His fingers twitched to intertwine between your fingers, to lay a gentle kiss on your cheek. He waited for the right time.

A few months went by until it was the day of the trip Jisung planned to go on with his family. You stand in the centre of your bedroom with a small suitcase since it was for two weeks; you packed your necessities and your chargers, some hair ties and your book. You zipped up your suitcase and grabbed your other bag to throw in your pouch, phone, airpods and whatever else you needed easy access to. Jisung walks into your room with a knock; “hey your mum let me in, ready for me to take your stuff?”

And from there, everything began to unfold.

The journey there was peaceful considering the fact you always fell asleep at least 15 minutes into any car journey. Your head resting against the car window, although Jisung noticed that it wasn’t very relaxing when your head kept bumping against the car; he moved to the middle and gently moved your head to rest onto his shoulder his arm around you, so you were comfortable. He could feel his heart explode 50 fireworks every time he looked at you. He was spellbound by you.

***

Your Island holiday started off with a tour of Jisung’s holiday home; a pretty looking home with sliding doors and traditional architecture. “This is my room, and I think my parents are allowing you your own room which is the guest room,” he opened the door to the guest room and you were rapt but the view it had of the ocean. You dropped your bags and ran to the large windows and swung then open; the sound of the birds and the swashing of the sea infused your system. It felt refreshing. “It’s really pretty isn’t it, I love coming here,” he leaned against the window sill. Especially with you. He thought. “well, I’ll let you get comfortable and perhaps we can go exploring a little bit or we might have something to eat.. I don’t know but get comfy!” he says before shutting the door and leaving you alone with the ocean and your busy mind to unwind.

The saxe blue ocean pushed up against the bisque grains of sand, pulling back and leaving behind a platinum foamy residue. You thought of you and Jisung holding hands and walking down the beach at sunset like every couple does. The air felt lighter so you inhaled deeply and tried to let go of everything you had on your mind. You heard a knock at the door; it was Jisung’s mother. “are you hungry?” she smiled with immense amount of love and gentleness in her eyes. “of course! I’ll come now!” you close the windows and grab your phone as his mother smiled at you. Family meals with his family felt so natural although today Jisung was a lot more reserved as usual. Usually he would say something stupid or be extroverted. “You okay?” you whisper across the table. “h-huh, OH yeah I am, I’m tired that’s all.”

It wasn’t like him but you knew it wasn’t you that was the reason.

After dinner, you followed him back to the bedrooms; “Jisung,” you utter “Hm?” he turns around, the pair of you face to face now. “Do you want to watch the stars with me?” you ask nervously but you saw the way his brows raise from a furrow and the corner of his lips raise. “Of course I would, I’ll go change and come to you alright?” you nod your head and do the same thing. As you close the door you exhale. You don’t know why you were so nervous. But soon enough, he knocked and asked permission to come in. You both sat on the bed and gazed at the twinkling stars outside; “sometimes I wish I could be a star,” you begin. “Why is that?” Jisung asks looking down at you laying your head near thigh; “they’re so carefree and pretty and I-”

“but so are you?” he defends. “what?” you get up and look at him, your hair covering the sides of your face. He tucks your hair behind your ear; “you mean more than you think, to someone out there you just don’t know yet.. The way we’re looking at stars right now someone must’ve saw you the same way and wished they saw you again.. because it’s hard to find ONE special star amongst many,” Jisung was extremely poetic today.

“Han-” you were interrupted again. “the moon is out again, look!” he points as you lay back down this time on his thigh as he shifted it closer to where you were laying. It felt natural. His hand hesitated to touch your hair, to play with your locks but he found the courage to. You felt your soul levitate but luckily he couldn’t see your face.

***

The sun beamed into your room, the light material curtains flailing in the ocean breeze; Jisung wasn’t in the room. You were resting on a pillow with a blanket over you, it seems like he left later when you fell asleep again. The aroma of breakfast began to waft through the gap of the door to which you thought it would be a good idea to get up and get ready. You opened the door and yelped as you saw Jisung smiling ear to ear at your door. “Good morning sleepy head-” as he grabbed your hand. “w-wow where are we going!” you yelped. “breakfast but at a special place!” he says. “bye we’ll be back!” Jisung waves to his parents. You make your way down paths until you reached a little shop – a coffee shop. “I loved this place and I always wanted to bring you here!” he opens the door and the strong scent of bread and other patisserie struck you. “this is where my love for cheesecake came from!” he smiles. He seemed very happy.

You panicked internally. Did..you kiss! That thought didn’t feel right !!

***

Jisung toured you around. He showed you places he used to love as a child and things that made him happy – even happier that he could share it with you – from the rocks near the sea, to the bakery. He showed you where he carved his name on a tree on the way back to the family home. “maybe I should carve yours too!” he looks for a sharp stone and gets right to it. You watch him be so happy and acted out to yourself how you would confess to him. maybe you shouldn’t right? Soon after, you both slowly walked home but Jisung stopped again. “hey look!” he points at this tree. “what about it?” you ask until you looked up to see bright orange oranges hanging from verdant leaves. “oh my! I want one!” you say trying to grab out until Jisung stands extremely close behind you leaning over to twist one off. “Thanks-” you say although he begins peeling the skin off himself with a smile of endearment painted across his face. “I can do it myself!” you try to grab it off him. “aaaa-” he says holding a piece to your mouth with your accept, his thumb grazing against your bottom lip. “oh it’s really tasty!” you say. “open wide,” he jokes as he holds another one. “I’m not a baby!” you whine. “yeah you are,” he laughs running forward. “come and get me!”

This was the Jisung you knew and loved.

He grabbed your hand once you caught up to him, his fingers intentionally interlocking fingers and smirking at you playfully before running back to the house. You had so much fun. More than you usually do and you felt closer to Jisung. The exchanging of looks and playfully flirty remarks is all that you would remember from today. Especially, his thumb grazing your bottom lip; his soft gaze was still intense; it still made you feel nervous.

Being with Jisung was homely. His genial personality making you fall for him further. That night, you sat in the bed of the guest room, the owls hooting outside and trees rustling as the oceans began to sound turbulent. You were a little frightened and you debated going to Jisung. “screw it!” you thought. You knock at his door and hope he isn’t asleep. There wasn’t an answer so you turned around to go back into your room until your hear the handle lower and open. “you okay?” he asked, looking genuinely concerned. You gulped at the way he presented himself, his hair messy and eyes weary. “I didn’t mean to disturb you I-I’m just a bit scared…” you mumbled. “scared?” he repeated. “yeah! Don’t repeat it I feel STUPID!”

He lets out a soft chuckle and holds out his hand; “I’m watching a show right now if you want to join me?” he offers. You take his hand and he closes the door behind him. He climbs into bed and leans against his headboard. “your space awaits,” he says in a deep voice mocking the character in the show making you smile. You slide under his sheets and against the headboard too although it felt abnormal. “you can lean on me if you want to, I don’t mind..” he says. “are you sure?” you ask gulping. He nods with great certainty. So you did what he said. You lowered yourself so your head was at his chest, leaning into him and unexpectedly he pulled you in closer.

The moment became incredibly intimate. His heart was beating fast, you could hear it thump out of his chest. You felt your pulse quicken too. This wasn’t normal at all. You were okay with intimacy but this moment felt … different.

“are you okay?” he asks, his voice slightly husky, his fingers gently skimming the side of your arm. You stay still, debating to confess or to just lean in and get it done and over with. No. He wouldn’t do that. You sit up, his arm moving away from you; you face him and take a deep breath. “what’s wro-” he gets cut off by your confession.

“ I love you Jisung..” you blurt out closing your eyes hoping he’d say something – even if it was the opposite of what you were expecting. Although whilst your eyes were closed there was silence which was shattered by Jisung’s laugh. He lay his hand on yours, his other hand just below your jaw: “open your eyes for me,” he begins, your eyes slowly peering at him. It was like someone burst a colour bomb in the room; he was radiating indigo, pink and orange – he was happy. Although words were not exchanged, actions were.

Actions speak louder than words

His arm placed itself around your waist pulling you in closer to him as you kneeled on his bed. He closed his eyes and leaned closer to your lips, a paroxysm of emotions and feelings being exchanged between two lovers. The pure infatuation between you and him felt like true love, everything felt like two puzzle pieces attaching to create a piece of art that longed to be complete. The large boulder that sat on your chest had gone, you felt like a feather floating through the gates of heaven. The sweet exchange between you and Jisung, his hands ever so gently holding you; he loved you this whole time but waited for you. You lay next to him, his eyes so effervescent and glossy, his fingers caress the side of your cheek. “I love you more than you would ever have expected me to…” he confesses lowly “ I was waiting for you,”

I was waiting for you.

Everything felt so complete with your heart and Jisung’s heart merged into one. Daisies, clementine’s, and August 1st. You wished for nothing more and nor did he. Even in another life, you would always be his first love

First love. Something so pure and magnificent, something that changed the repetitive customs of life; something that gave variety and prosperity to existence. Even when seasons change, Clementines and Daisies will be what bound you with your first love; Jisung was your first love and transpires to be your last.

Everything was falling into place and had been since whenever he grew feelings for you. The way you sandwiched his cheeks with heat packs, or the way you held his hand with one heat pack. Not to forget the way he would always buy your second choice so you didn’t have any regrets. The way Jisung’s gentle touches made a pit in your stomach fall everytime like the one time at the night cafe when you were looking at the books. Not to forget the way his thumb grazed your lips... Everything was just right.

***

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ace-in-a-shopping-cart · 3 years

Text

Stolen Moments (Love Letters)

Word Count: 5,848 CW: Mentions of violence, cursing, hospital

Gavin opened his messages, desperate to hear some news from Nines. Instead of getting a message from Nines telling him he was fine and ready to return home, he got an automated message from the repair hospital telling him he needed to pick up his personal effects, more information in an email to follow. Gavin switched over to his email and found a large file.

He sat down at his terminal, ignoring that it was his work device and he was on the clock, and opened it to find over two hundred messages from Nines, all addressed to himself. The email itself said that Nines, as his professional partner, was mostly his responsibility and property and that Gavin was responsible for his bills and the choice to repair or replace him. He needed to come to the hospital by end of day and make the decision.

Gavin scoffed. “I guess some things still haven’t changed no matter how progressive people pretend to be.”

He reread the last line until it set in that Nines’ life was in his hands. He jolted out of his chair, the seat rolling back until it hit the side of someone else’s desk, and rushed to Fowler’s office. He threw the door open, not caring that the captain was in the middle of a meeting.

Gavin didn’t bother with preamble, getting straight to his point. “Sir, I need the day off.”

Fowler sighed, moving things around on his terminal for a bit. “You’ve got days off saved up. Go ahead.”

Gavin thanked him, rushing out the door and to the repair hospital. He just about crashed through the doors and made a beeline for the receptionist. “I’m looking for an RK900 unit who goes by the name ‘Nines’. What room is he in?”

She looked up at him, expression bored. “Serial number?”

Gavin frustratedly gave it, having memorized it long ago, and waited impatiently to be told where he was. When told, Gavin didn’t bother thanking the receptionist before he was off to see Nines. It was agonizing having to wait for the elevator, even worse having to stand in it as it went up, his fingers tapping on his leg the entire ride. His eyes scanned the room numbers, getting frantic with the thought of not getting to him in time. When he found the room he’d been told was Nines’, he went directly inside.

Nines was alone in the room. He was lying on a white bed, his chassis exposed from his toes to his neck. His head and neck were the only things that still had his skin on it, looking for all the world as if he were peacefully sleeping despite the LED that kept a steady yellow light. Gavin sighed in relief at him being there, despite the numerous injuries he still sported, and pulled a chair over to sit next to him. He held his hand and grabbed his tablet from his bag.

“Alright, tin can. What’d you send me?” He opened the large folder, looking at the abundance of files that were inside it. Turning his head to Nines, he joked, “Any idea where to start?” Sadly, Nines stayed as silent and still as before, not a word to be spoken.

Gavin kissed the back of his hand, running his thumb over a crack in the plating. He turned his attention back to the tablet and scrolled down through the file names. Each one had a series of numbers as a name, something Gavin quickly figured out was a date. Scrolling through them, they were in chronological order. He only found it fitting to open the first one and go from there, wondering what they could be.

Detective,

The other day, we were talking on a stake out. I mentioned there being more to admire about you than to detest and have just now realized the error of not continuing that thought. I admire your work ethic, the way you have a single-minded drive to complete the case assigned to us. I appreciate how gentle you are with victims and those you like. You may not notice it but care is in every word you speak and every action you make for those you genuinely consider to be loved ones and the few victims we’ve spoken to. I’ve noticed your actions softening toward me, even as your words stay as harsh as they’ve ever been. I might be wrong, but it seems you’ve come to care for me yet wish to continue our ribbing as something more friendly. If this is your way of extending an olive branch, I am more than willing to accept it and will continue to banter with you.

Gavin smiled as he looked back at Nines. “Thank you so much for understanding me, you barely held together stack of rust and bolts.”

A voice laughed but it wasn’t Nines’. Instead, Gavin’s attention was drawn to the doorway where someone in a white lab coat, a small pin on the lapel reading ‘they/them’, stood. “I see you arrived.”

Gavin stood, laying the tablet on the bed but not letting go of Nines’ hand. “Who do I have to tell that this man is a person who deserves every right to live and fight as anyone else?”

They laughed again, coming inside the room to lean against a wall. “That would be me. I’m Ash Windlock, head of Simon Repair Hospital. I apologize if the message made it seem more urgent than it truly is.”

Gavin clenched his jaw, having to force himself to take even breaths. “What’s Nines’ condition?”

“I’m not going to lie. He’s in some pretty bad shape. We can only repair the body, not the coding and neural pathways he developed by being deviant. Right now, our best team is gathering to do a surgery, as repairs have taken to being called, as soon as we can. I’ll update you when that happens.”

Gavin’s hand held Nines’ just a bit tighter. “How well do you expect that to go? What do you mean, you can’t repair his code?”

“The surgery is expected to be a full success. When an android becomes deviant, their code changes in ways the programmers weren’t equipped to handle. It would take too long for them to learn the new coding that is specific to every android just to be able to repair them without fear of damaging the new coding and, thus, the deviant. Even if that were possible, RK900s are extremely rare in this part of the world, not many having been found and awoken. So, it’d take even longer to figure out his specific neural paths. That’s time we don’t have. So, while we can do everything in our power to repair his chassis and wiring, we can’t do anything about his mind palace unless he does something about it himself. He went into low power mode when he was damaged and we don’t know if he’ll come out of it after the surgery.”

Gavin nodded, struggling to process the amount of information that was just pushed onto him. “Okay, yeah, I’ll sign whatever permission waver you need me to when it comes to the surgery as I’m closest to next of kin while Connor is out of town. Just, charge the bill to the DPD, he’s under their employ.” Connor should be back by that afternoon but they didn’t need to know that.

They nodded. “I’ll be back in a moment with the paperwork for next of kin.”

Gavin sat back down, fidgeting with Nines’ fingers as he usually did when nervous. “While we wait,” he spoke to Nines, hoping it was like a coma where he could still hear him, “how about I look at another one of your files?”

This one was a video, a few days after the writing. It didn’t seem like much, just a video of Gavin flipping through some files while he worked. There were captions on it, little things being picked out. Gavin's bouncing leg, how his dominant hand was tapping a tablet pen against his fingertips and knuckles, the half full cup of coffee that Gavin had sitting on his desk, the mess of a desk that he knew like the back of his hand. Other things were noticed too, the way Gavin’s brow was furrowed as he concentrated, the clump of hair that’d fallen over his forehead, his nose wrinkling, the slight redness on his fingers from the repeated tapping of the pen, even the creases of his jacket were picked out as important. The video couldn’t have been more than two minutes of Gavin working but it said a lot about what Nines thought about him at that time.

Gavin looked back up at Nines, lying so still on the bed he would have looked dead to anyone else. “Did you really have a crush on me back then, toaster?” His voice was light and teasing. He wanted Nines to be awake, to tell him to stop with the android jokes, to tell him Gavin had been crushing long since Nines had, to tell him all sorts of things.

A video. Gavin walked down the stairs, Nines staring up at him. Suddenly the scene paused and became monochromatic, as a white outline of Gavin reached the bottom of the stairs, a grey outline of Nines leaned forward to kiss his cheek. The outlines reversed until the white outline matched with Gavin again and the scene unfroze, the world filling with color. Gavin passed Nines and the android turned to follow.

Another one, edited to follow that. Gavin sat at his desk. The world paused and faded again as a grey outline of Nines approached with a coffee cup, kissing the top of Gavin’s head and placing the cup on the desk before leaning into him and running his fingers through his hair. The images reversed and instead Nines simply handed him the cup, Gavin giving a brief, “Thanks.”

Three more scenes similar to those followed in sequence, where the grey outline tried to interact in a romantic way with the white outline before Nines inevitably didn’t act on those thoughts.

Gavin sat and stared at Nines, his grip on Nines hand tightening just the slightest bit. “You should have told me sooner, dumbass.” His voice was soft, softer than he ever spoke to anyone besides Nines.

Windlock came back in with a tablet that Gavin had to fill out. Other repairs Nines had previously had, if he knew who did those, if he knew who originally built him, signing a bunch of things that came with medical power of attorney. When he handed the tablet back, he was told they’d operate in a half hour.

Another video. This one was different, footage of a garden. Gravel crunched under footsteps and animals were heard but not seen, water. Nines stopped by a pond and glanced down, brushing a stray strand of hair back into place. His shirt had a simpler collar than normal and was a lighter shade of black. He leaned back, continuing on the path. Images of Gavin appeared along it, some sitting on benches doing random actions, others walking beside Nines for short periods of time. One of them came up to Nines and started talking about the case at the time, Nines participating in the conversation.

Gavin looked from the tablet to stare at Nines. “Were you dreaming about me?” His voice was quiet, bewildered yet flattered.

The next ten files were similar things, Nines’ dreams about Gavin and videos of Gavin doing mundane tasks that wouldn’t be considered special in any way. At least, none that Gavin could tell. As far as he was concerned, the videos of himself that had been overanalyzed were sweet but he didn’t understand why Nines kept them.

Soon enough, a group of people came in and took Nines away to the operating room. Gavin was allowed to stay in the hospital room but was warned the operation would last several hours. He reluctantly put down the files Nines had addressed to him, files he was quickly realizing were simply labeled with his name and may have been misinterpreted as for him when they were just about him, and pulled out a book instead. He tried to lose himself in a plot line but was too anxious to do so.

Calling Tina got him nowhere, her phone off while she was on patrol. He’d taken the day off to be with Nines so wasn’t technically allowed to work on case files. Besides, nothing felt the same without Nines being there to help him. So, he reluctantly pulled up the files again and selected the next one, a video. There seemed to be a lot of those.

Gavin smiled as Nines approached, coming to stand next to him on his balcony. They were quiet for a moment, both looking out at the city. Nines looked at Gavin, his sensors again cataloguing small things about his appearance. “I need to tell you something.”

Gavin looked at him, eyes trusting. “Shoot.”

Nines’ eyes shut briefly before he looked at Gavin again. “I’ve developed feelings for you.”

Gavin blinked, his posture changing from relaxed to attentive. “Okay, that’s something.” He took a deep breath, letting it out with a laugh. “I guess it’s ironic, you telling me that just as I realize something about myself.”

Nines head tilted to the side. “What would that be, Detective?”

“I’ve, somehow, also developed feelings for you.” He shook his head. “I dunno how I’ve done it, but I’ve come to really care for you.”

Nines took a step forward, towards Gavin. “What does this mean for us?”

Gavin shrugged, looking up at him. “What do you want it to mean?”

Nines leaned down. “I would enthusiastically pursue a romantic relationship with you if you say you would like that.”

Gavin smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek before heading inside. “I wouldn’t say no,” was tossed over his shoulder.

In the top right corner of the screen, Gavin’s name came up highlighted in blue. Under it, highlighted in white, the word ‘companion’ changed to ‘lover’. Nines followed Gavin inside.

Gavin didn’t realize he was crying until a tear dripped onto the screen and he frantically pulled his sleeve over his hand to wipe it away. “Damn android,” he muttered, not truly angry with him.

They were slow dancing. Gavin’s head rested on Nines’ shoulder, one hand placed on his other shoulder while Nines had a hand on his waist, their other hands clasped together. A small pop up in the corner of the video identified the song as Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis. They were turning in a slow circle as the notes played. It was a peaceful moment until Princess walked into the room, screaming for food, and the charm was broken with laughter. Nines pulled Gavin into a kiss briefly before Gavin went to feed the cat.

Gavin took a deep breath. He remembered that night, remembered the hard day before it and the cuddles on the couch afterwards. He’d never been able to remember what song they’d been dancing to, it blurring into just another generic love song at the time. He wondered if they’d ever get the opportunity to dance to it again.

Gavin,

Every day, my soul rejoices in being able to see you, to wake up to you being there with me. I want it all. I want the quiet domesticity that comes with waking near you, that comes with you making breakfast while I feed Princess. I love being able to get ready for work with you, even if that means we end up discussing the cases in the shower and while you shave. I love being able to work with you, to have you as both my work and personal partner. I enjoy getting you coffee as you look over the case files, to make sure the desk is still in the organized chaos you left it in, your files and trinkets spilling over onto my pristine desk. I probably enjoy that more than most would think I do. However, I love watching you from afar as I wait for the coffee, watching the way you sit and interact with your environment, how you hold yourself while you read.

There’s a hidden beauty in the way people do things when they don’t think others are watching, the little mannerisms they pick up that are just for themselves and are all their own. I’m so glad you’ve let me into your life enough to feel comfortable showing me those and I hope that I never betray that trust.

I love being able to drive home with you, to relax after a long day and curl up with you. I relish the fact that you will fall asleep in my arms, that you trust me enough to keep you safe while you’re unaware of the world around you. I love being able to have you fall asleep on the couch and trust me to carry you to the bed, the ability to fall asleep beside you.

Gavin, darling, I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life. You’ve been a driving force for me, a guiding light. Whether you realize it or not, you’ve influenced so many of my choices. Thank you, dear, for helping me find life in deviancy, for helping me find love in turmoil.

Gavin wiped a tear from his eye, vision turning blurry. Nines didn’t usually use pet names for him, sticking to ‘Gavin’ and ‘Detective’ to the point that the latter felt like an endearment. It felt nice to see the endearments from him. He really hoped Nines would pull through and be okay. He couldn’t imagine living life without him at this point, he relied on him so much. He shifted in his seat, trying to get a bit more comfortable, before clicking on the next file.

A video. This was a memory that Gavin could fill in the smaller details for.

Nines was on his back on the couch. Gavin was laying on top of him, arms curled around Nines’ sides. His head rested on Nines chest, their legs entangled, while Nines’ hands carded through Gavin’s hair and over his back. They were watching an old rerun of some cop show that not even Nines bothered remembering. Nines’ shifted, kissing the top of Gavin’s head. He hummed, holding a constant note for longer than a human could.

Gavin looked up at him, chin resting on Nines’ chest. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what? Kiss you?” He chuckled. “Because I like to.”

Gavin smiled but pressed his hand to Nines’ side. “No. The humming thing. It sounds like a cross between a cat purring and the whirring of a fan. Are you okay?”

Nines nodded, smiling. “It’s kind of like a cat’s purr too in that I only do it when I’m content and safe. It’s also a way of doing a self-diagnostic of my systems as it tests both vocal modulator and fans.”

Gavin leaned forward to peck Nines on the lips before laying his head back on his chest.

Gavin sniffled, wiping a tear from his cheek. He hoped to get the opportunity to lay with him like that again soon. He believed Nines was going to pull through this, that he was going to get through the surgery fine and that he was going to come back to him. He had to.

“Detective.”

That sounded so much like Nines that his name was halfway out of Gavin’s mouth before he realized it was Connor, not Nines, that was standing in the hallway with his hands behind his back. “Oh. It’s just you. What do you want?” His voice was flat, none of his usual bite left.

Connor smiled, taking a step into the room, closing the door behind him. “Officer Chen overheard some of your conversation with Fowler and logged into your computer to gather information. She sent that information to me and I just now arrived to do anything with it. Scans indicate that you haven’t eaten in the past twelve hours. I suggest we deal with that first. What do you wanna eat?” His LED swirled yellow as he probably pulled up a list of nearby restaurants.

Gavin sighed, feeling the exhaustion of the day kick in. “At this point, you can pick. Give me whatever you think is best. Just! No fish, and no zucchini.”

Connor tilted his head. “That’s not in any medical files you have available. Am I correct in assuming that’s personal preference?”

Gavin nodded. “Can’t stand the texture of either of ‘em.” As he fully tuned into the real world, he pulled his shoulders back and grimaced at the sounds of all the machines and the buzzing of the lights.

“Okay, there’s a Chinese restaurant nearby that has some meals that look good. What do you want from there?”

“Uhh, sweet and sour chicken with noodles.”

Connor nodded. “I’ll go get that for you. In the meantime, how is my brother?”

Gavin filled him in on the details before Connor went to grab the take out for him. While he waited for his food, he opened the next file, another letter. This one was small, as if it were hastily written. From the date and what Gavin remembered, it was from a time where they’d been covering a case with a lot of violence and they’d been split. The letter reflected Nines’ frazzled emotions during that time as it wished Gavin good health and it was a small goodbye if Nines didn’t make it. Gavin was glad he had.

Another round of videos detailing Gavin doing mundane things followed the letter, many of the scenes now domestic as well as professional.

Connor came back and put the bag near Gavin. “Did you need me to stay? Tina only told me to check on you, not stay with you. If you want me to go, I will.”

Gavin thought about it. A year ago, he would have snapped for Connor to leave instantly, not seeing him as anything but a machine with nothing to offer. Now, he knew Connor was alive and actually trying to reach out. Gavin let a reluctant smile drag a corner of his mouth up. “You can stay, if you want. I’m not sure if you’ve got the time for it but you’re more than welcome.”

Connor smiled, gracefully sinking to sit on the floor. “I cleared my schedule to be at your disposal.”

Gavin groaned, letting his head roll back. “Am I that bad?”

Connor shrugged. “Hank was taking the rest of the day off already so it’s only natural for me to as well. Besides, Nines is kind of like my little brother. I want to be here.”

Gavin took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Gavin picked up the tablet again and looked at the next file.

Gavin,

Happy first anniversary. I don’t know if you expected us to last this long but I’m grateful we have. I’m grateful for every second I get to spend with you. I don’t know where I would be right now if I hadn’t met you, if we hadn’t been partnered. I’m so glad I have you as both the best detective partner I could ask for and a most amazing lover. It warms my soul every time you forget I’m not human, especially when it’s tacked on to an android joke. Those instances make me know you care so deeply for me and love every part of me.

You taught me to take life slowly, to savor what I have. That sentiment has been applied to every part of my life. I savor stakeouts, holding you in my arms, feeding Princess, even doing paperwork and being on the hunt. They are all good to me simply because they are part of my life and because you are there.

I don’t know what life would be like without you. I’m so used to you being with me every step of the way.

Gavin looked up as footsteps approached the room, hoping it was Windlock with news on Nines. The feet passed the room, the person casting a shadow across the frosted glass of the door, and kept on their way.

A video. Nines was sitting on the couch, reading, when Gavin’s voice called from the bedroom. Nines’ HUD measured the level of distress in his voice as high and he went to investigate.

Gavin had torn the bedroom apart, a pile of things on the bed. Nines scanned him, noting the disheveled appearance and lack of caffeine along with his elevated stress signals. “What’s wrong, Gavin?”

Gavin turned to him, tears in his eyes. “I can’t find something I need and today’s been bad enough.”

Nines nodded. Gavin’s unmedicated ADHD could be a lot to deal with after a long day. He stepped forward, pulling Gavin into a hug, his hands rubbing soothing circles along his back. “What do you need me to do?”

Gavin sighed, melting into the contact and stability that came with the hug. “Could you scan the room for my tablet pen?”

“Of course.” Nines moved his head and time froze, going down to grey and white. He located the pen easily enough, it’s black shape standing out starkly. He chuckled and released Gavin to pick it up. “It was right beside your tumbler.”

Gavin took it, wiping the tears from his cheeks. “Sorry for making such a fuss over something so small.”

Nines reached out, his hand cradling Gavin’s cheek and thumbing at his tears. “Nothing is too big nor too small for me to help you. I understand your stress and I know the way you get. I’m perfectly content to help you find something right in front of your nose.” To punctuate the statement, he leaned forward to kiss Gavin’s scar.

Gavin wiped a tear from his eye. “Come back to me soon, tin can.”

Connor looked at him. “Did you say something, Detective?”

Gavin shook his head. “No, nothing.”

The door opened and Windlock came in. “Detective Reed, the surgery is complete.”

Gavin sat forward in his chair, resisting the urge to pace. “How did it go? Is he online yet?”

They shook their head. “Unfortunately, his neural network is still non-functioning. However, the surgery was a success. His chassis is intact and functioning again, every bicomponent in its place. His skin isn’t on as he’s not online to do that. Would you like to see him?”

Gavin stood, gathering his things. “Yes, please.”

Connor stood and approached Windlock. “Is there anything more you can tell us about his status? Have you at least figured out why he isn’t online yet?”

They shrugged. “I’m as in the dark as you are, RK800. Any insight you can spare would be helpful.”

“Okay, I’m ready.” Gavin slung his bag over his shoulder. “Lead us to him, please.”

Nines was almost the same way as how he’d left Gavin three hours ago. His skin was retracted below the neck, letting the white plating show, and he was lying so peacefully that for a moment Gavin almost thought he was just sleeping. Gavin walked over to the chair closest to the bed and sat down hard, leaning forward to take Nines’ hand. “I’m here, toaster. I’m right here.”

Connor placed a hand on his shoulder and Gavin was distantly aware of him asking for Windlock to leave them be. Gavin’s entire focus was on Nines even as he knew there were only a few more files in the folder to get through.

He held onto Nines’ hand with one of his own, letting his partner know that he was there and wasn’t going anywhere, and pulled the tablet from the bag by his feet.

The next file was a series of pictures. It seemed Nines was sentimental in that regard. All the way from first meeting up until just a night ago, they were pictures of Gavin doing various things. It started as just Gavin doing work at his desk, moving to crime scenes and the break room. Photos of him doing mundane tasks and midchase. The time stamps moved past their getting together and the pictures became more domestic. Gavin waking in Nines’ arms, sleeping on the couch, Princess coming home for the first time. He’d documented her entire growth process from stray kitten to spoiled adult.

Gavin smiled at Nines. “You really do have a soft spot for that cat, don’t you? Maybe it’s about time we get her a playmate.”

“I’ll leave you two be for a moment. I need to speak with someone.” Connor slipped out of the room.

Gavin opened the next file, shifting to sit beside Nines on the bed now that Connor was gone.

A video. Gavin was cooking breakfast as Nines fed Princess, their usual routine. Nines came up beside Gavin, kissing him on the cheek. “How’s the bacon coming along?”

“Pretty much done.”

“Good.” Nines turned the burner off and took the spatula from Gavin’s hand. Somewhere, music started to play and Gavin chuckled as Nines pulled him into a dance. It was sweet and short before Gavin was released to finish making his breakfast.

Gavin smiled, recognizing that morning from only a few days before the incident. He gripped Nines hand just a bit tighter as he clicked on the last file.

The last video. Nines was standing on a roof. Gavin was down on the ground, watching out for their suspect. “Hello down there.” He muttered to himself, not loud enough to carry.

He stepped away from the edge, pacing the length of the roof. “Is it weird to think that I’m bored? I’m an android with the internet at my fingertips, I should be able to wait for a few minutes.” He sighed. “I guess that’s the trouble with living and working so closely to you, time is meaningless and a minute is too long for you.” He chuckled. “You’re so used to moving so fast that slowing down is a difficult task for you. That’s okay, though. I like it that way.”

The door to the roof burst open and Nines sprang into action, launching himself into a fight with their suspect. They grappled for a moment, both trying to pin the other and get a better grip. In the end, Nines backed them toward the edge.

“I now know,” he was still muttering. “No matter how much time has passed, no matter how much time will pass, you truly are the love of my life. This is why . . . I’m doing this.” He took a final step backward, diving off the roof and taking their suspect with him.

Gavin sat in shock as the video ended, almost waiting for it to finish or replay or do anything but leave him there with that information and the knowledge of why Nines had been damaged almost to the point of no repair.

He looked to Nines, laying so still on the bed. “Why? Why’d you feel the need to do that?!” He released Nines’ hand to stand. “There could have been some other way! You could have called me! You could have used lethal methods!” He hit Nines’ chest with a fist too weak to do any damage to a human. “You don’t need to sacrifice your-damn-self just because you feel like it!” He knew he was shouting but he didn’t care.

A hand touched his arm and Gavin jolted to look at Nines. His eyes were open and his hand was hovering in the air. “I knew you would catch me.” His voice was weak and full of static but Gavin was so happy to hear him he cried, tears spilling down his cheeks.

Laying down, Gavin threw his arms around Nines. They lay there for what felt like an eternity and an instant, simply holding each other and comforting themselves that the other was alive and safe. Nines ran a hand up Gavin’s back, cupped the back of his neck, then began to softly card through his hair. His free arm curled around Gavin and pulled him close, holding him and feeling him and making sure he was real. Gavin pulled one arm down, curling it by his side and grounding himself by grabbing a fistful of the bedsheets, and let the other rest over Nines’ torso and had the hand sit on the white chassis of Nines’ shoulder.

“Did you look through the folder?” Nines’ voice broke the silence, not filled with as much static as before.

Gavin nodded, turning his head to look at the tablet resting innocently on a nearby table. “I watched, read, and looked at every single file in that folder while wondering if it would ever be added to again.”

Nines pressed a kiss to his neck. “I’m sorry, Gavin. I should have warned you or tried a different path.”

Gavin shrugged and turned back to rest his head on Nines’ shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re safe.” He paused for a moment. “The engineers said they could repair your body but your mind was too damaged for them to do anything with.”

Nines’ head rested against Gavin’s, his hand never slowing in Gavin’s hair. “I know. I heard bits and pieces of it, especially toward the end of the surgery and just now in the room. While they were spending all that time fixing my chassis and biocomponents, I was working on my coding.”

Gavin laughed, his jubilance at Nines being okay bubbling up. “An AI that fixes its own code, would you fucking look at that!”

Nines chuckled. “The irony isn’t lost on me, Detective. However, it’s simply the world we are living in where an android is capable of modifying their own code. Still, it was hard and taxing work to rebuild my own functions line by line. I shall be back to myself in no time at all, I assure you.”

A knock at the door caused them to abandon their conversation. Gavin turned onto his back to better see who came in before calling for them to enter. Connor stuck his head in, eyes lighting up at the sight of Nines. “You’re awake! I’ll go get Windlock, you two stay put!” He shut the door and left them with the sound of his fading footsteps.

Nines let his head fall back against Gavin’s and his hand hold Gavin’s, interlacing their fingers. “Who did he go get?”

Gavin did his best to explain as he sat up, cradling Nines against him. Connor came back with Windlock, who gave Nines a clean bill of health and said he was free to be discharged. Gavin ran home and got him some clothes as Connor dealt with the paperwork.

That night, Nines recorded another instance of Gavin falling asleep and marveled at just how lucky he was.

I don’t currently have a taglist for DBH but you can check out my masterlist before sending an ask to be added!

#gavin reed #adhd!gavin #rk900 nines #reed900 #dbh connor #jeffrey fowler #tina chen #hank anderson #(tina and hank are only mentioned)#mentions of violence #fluff #angst #fluff and angst #established relationship #tw hospital #ace writes

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nightbts · 4 years

Text

through the night | jjk | 07

pairing: jeon jungkook + stylist! reader

word count: 6.5k

genre: fluff, angst + idol! au

parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

author’s note: and that’s the end everyone, thank you so much for everyone who has loved and supported this fic; it was definitely rough at times but I’m glad I was able to finish it! I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it :’)

listen to this playlist while reading!

best of friends. that’s what you and jungkook were. as their stylist for several years now, you and jungkook got along like no other and over time developed a friendship that was special to the two of you. but what happens when an IU collaboration deal, a jealous childhood-best friend and secret feelings get intertwined with the simple life you thought you were living?

Humming one of their recent tracks mindlessly, Jungkook slipped his phone back into his pocket after sending Jimin a quick reply, telling him that he’d be there in the studio in just a couple minutes.

As he walked down the hallway, his eyes momentarily fell upon the staff room, knowing if you were to be found anywhere at this time, it would be there or your office.

But after already taking the long way to walk by your empty office, he knew there would be a good chance of you inside those doors. A slight hesitation in his step, he groaned inwardly as his feet automatically walked towards the staff room. Damn, his weakness.

He didn’t even know what he would say to you if you were there. Hello? How are you? Even the thought of it sounded ridiculous to him.

You had been the one to avoid Jungkook, no explanation given, yet he couldn’t help but feel guilty when he gave you the same treatment. He didn’t like it, not a single bit. Not when it pained him every second to see the distraught look on your face, when he just wanted to have you in his arms and tell you to tell him everything, that’d he be there no matter what.

Finding himself reaching for the doorknob, his grip faltered when he glanced up. Jungkook felt his stomach instantly drop as he looked through the small rectangular glass window on the door, his eyes falling on you and Jiho with your lips connected, as you stood there, pressed against the countertop.

Hands trembling, Jungkook looked down at the floor. He knew he had no right to feel hurt, or jealous, yet there he was feeling those emotions in the worst way possible, his heart twisting uneasily in his chest. Before he could fully comprehend the situation, the door had swung open, causing him to back up several steps. There you stood, face flushed with a flustered look painting your soft features. Yet, the second your eyes landed on him, he watched as all the color drained from your face, your eyes widening in fear.

“Jungkook.”

“Y/N, I—” Jiho’s voice echoed from behind you, his words trailing when his eyes fell on the figure standing in front of you. Frozen, you watched as Jungkook’s gaze slowly moved behind you, instantly hardening as he let out a small scoff. Just when you were about to say something, Jungkook excused himself, twisting around and walking away.

“Jungkook, wait!”

Jungkook heard your voice yet he didn’t stop, only getting more determined to walk faster. “Jungkook—”, you pleaded when he felt your hand grab his wrist, tugging at his arm, causing him to turn around.

You looked a mess. A panic-stricken expression clouded your face, eyes wide and ears red. Yet as Jungkook’s eyes trailed down to your slightly swollen red lips, it was like another punch right to his gut.

“Please, hear me out.” you started, “Whatever you saw, that wasn’t what—”

“You don’t need to explain anything to me, Y/N.” Jungkook answered without looking at you, “It’s none of my business.”

“No, no, please. You’ve got it all wrong.” Grabbing both of his hands, you made him face you. Despite the usual feeling Jungkook got whenever you touched him, this time he only felt anger bubbling inside of him. “I- I know the last couple weeks have been all kinds of messed up, but please just listen to me—!”

“Y/N”, Jungkook cut you off, this time letting his gaze meet yours, “I already said, you don’t need to explain yourself. Why do you? It’s not like we’re in a relationship or something, right?” he laughed bitterly, yet the words felt harsh even on his own tongue.

Your face falls at that as you slowly drop your hands to your sides; there wasn’t a single lie in the words he said, yet you couldn’t help but wince as they cut through you like knives.

“R-right. I just...I don’t want you to get the wrong idea—” you started when you heard him scoff under his breath, “The wrong idea? You sure didn’t seem to have a problem with that for the last couple weeks.”

You took a step back as you watched him squeeze his eyes shut, his fists clenching together at his sides. Jungkook had tried remaining calm, civil at best, despite what he had stumbled upon. But the more you spoke, he couldn’t.

“You gave me no explanation, no warning, no signs, nothing.” he spat with clenched teeth, as the image of Jiho’s lips on yours appeared once again in his mind, “So don’t act like you’re saving me from getting the ‘wrong idea’ right now when that’s what you’ve been giving me for weeks.”

“Jungkook, you don’t know what you’re talking about—” your voice trembled, despite the hint of warning laced within your words.

However, Jungkook barely took notice of it as your words only caused him to chuckle humorlessly, “I don’t know what I’m talking about? What a joke.”

Moving closer to you, he narrowed his eyes at you before spitting, “I had you go from talking to me every day to now barely even sparing me a glance. And guess what’s worse? You only acted that way with me, not with any of the other members or staff. Did you think I wouldn’t notice that and even when I did, that I’d be oka—?!”

“Well, what did you expect?!”

As the question slipped past your lips, Jungkook saw the way your once pleading eyes quickly hardened as you stared down at the ground, biting down on your lip. Staring at you in slight surprise at your sudden outburst, Jungkook’s brows furrowed. But before he could say anything, you spoke again.

“It must be easy for you to forget Jungkook, but it isn’t the same for me,” you spoke harshly. Watching as confusion clouded his features, you chuckled bitterly, “Of course you wouldn’t know what I’m talking about.”

Your heart started to feel heavy in your chest; simply standing in the presence of Jungkook for this long was enough to make you want to cry and yell at the same time. How were you supposed to make him understand, when the things you wanted to tell him were a secret you had held so dearly for years now?

From the second you knew you had fallen for Jungkook, you had a feeling a day like this would come. You weren’t going to be unrealistic, there was no easy way confessing to your world-wide famous best-friend, that you also worked with, that you were in love with them. But you were still foolish; you told yourself you’d find someone else, or that over time reality would strike you again and you’d magically lose feelings, but you should’ve known none of that would ever happen when you had loved the boy standing in front of you with every ounce of your body.

Mustering up the strength you had left, you asked him the question you had been dying to know the answer to since that night, “Did the night at the studio mean nothing to you?”

Jungkook took in a sharp breath.

After a long time, Jungkook looked straight at you. You watched his gaze soften, shifting into something that appeared to be a dangerous mix of sadness and warmth.

“Of course it didn’t Y/N. That night meant everything to me.”

His words should’ve comforted you. His words should’ve had your heart racing in your chest, had your palms sweating like crazy by your side while you would’ve fought the urge to break out into a heartwarming smile.

Instead, all that left your lips was a bitter chuckle.

“Everything to you?” you repeated dryly, “Is that why you went on the show and serenaded and flirted with IU like your life depended on it?”

Pulling harshly at the loose strands of your worn-out sweater, you spoke, voice shaking with every word, “Listen Jungkook. I never asked you for anything. You chose to be my friend. You chose to get close to me. And you chose to act the way you did that night. So, you have no right to be upset when you did all that. You gave me hope, made me feel things I never felt before and then just—” you hiccuped as a lump formed in your throat, “just acted like none of it mattered to you.”

As silence filled the space around you, the tension became so thick one would need a knife to cut through it. What you had said was enough for even a child to understand; you didn’t have to say it directly for Jungkook to know how just how you felt towards him.

Feeling the emotional exhaustion bear down on you, tears pricking the corners of your eyes you finally spoke, your voice much calmer, dangerously still, “I’m leaving. I can’t do this anymore right now.”

Your words seemed to finally jolt Jungkook back into reality. Still in shock from the things you had said, his mind unable to fully comprehend the meaning behind them, you watched as he shot you a frantic look, “No, Y/N, wait—”

You stared at his feet, your throat dry, “No Jungkook. I’m sorry, I’m leaving.”

“Y/N,” he sighs but you raised your hand up to shut him up, as you slowly backed away. Turning around, you came face to face with another person that only caused your head to ache even more. You watched as he gazed at you worriedly, his hands reaching out towards you when you gently pushed him off, “No Jiho, not today. I need to be alone.”

You turn away from both of them, as you walked away, leaving them behind as they stared at your retreating figure. Your hair did a good job of covering your face as you let the tears roll down your cheeks, hoping to lessen the pain and confusion that overwhelmed you.

“It’s okay to cry, Y/N. Just let it all out.” the soft voice comforted you through the laptop speakers. Whimpering, you pulled your knees up to your chest as you cried harder. Several minutes passed before your sobs began to quiet down.

“God, I hate my fucking life.” you cried, as you wiped the tears that had claimed permanent residency on your face during the last couple days, “I knew from the moment I felt something towards him, nothing good was going to happen.”

Sighing, Chungah shifted so that she propped her chin up on her palm, her face bobbing up and down before finally settling in front of the camera. Frowning slightly at the sight of her sister, she said, “Y/N. You know it’s not your fault. It was inevitable.”

“What about Jiho?! That was never supposed to happen!” you groaned in frustration, falling back against the pillow as you stared up at the ceiling.

Pursing her lips together, she nodded slowly, “While that did come as a surprise to me, it kinda makes sense too. After all, he was your friend for a long time and had stuck through a lot of your shit.”

Narrowing your bloodshot eyes at her, you replied sarcastically, “Thanks. It’s not like I asked for confirmation on how horrible my life was.”

Moaning for the nth time that day, you sniffled, “I just...I thought Jungkook felt the same way you know? Especially since he almost kissed me that one night—”

“Well, maybe he does.”

You snap your head up to look at your sister, “What?”

She shrugs. “Have you ever consider hearing him out? It’s not like you walked in on him making out with IU, it was a variety show. Doesn’t a shit ton of editing and directing happen to create something that’s desirable for viewers?”

You opened your mouth to retort, however as you let Chungah’s words sink in, you found yourself having nothing to say. Still, the bitterness you felt inside you would take a lot more than some common sense from your sister to leave.

“But then why didn’t he tell me that? Didn’t he think that would hurt me?”

“Y/N. Did you ever think maybe he didn’t know you liked him either? What makes you think he knows to begin with? You aren’t exactly an open book.”

“Are you on his side or mine?” you scowled defensively.

“I’m not on anyone’s side.” She laughs lightly. “I’m just saying, you were the one to ignore him first and he didn’t even know why. And then, he was the one who saw you and Jiho kissing. Now, if Jungkook really did like you, imagine how much he’s hurting.”

Pursing your lips together, you hung your head low as you let out a soft sigh. You knew she was right. Looking back on it, you knew this all along. Yet somewhere in you, the fear of being wrong about Jungkook was far more frightening to you.

“Y/N.” your sister calls you. You look up and meet her eyes through the laptop screen as she gave you a small smile, “I know everything is confusing right now, and things are hard because these are two people who mean a lot to you. But, you are causing yourself and them more pain by ignoring them. Just, try having a normal conversation. Hear each other out. I promise, it’ll clear things up and have you feeling a lot better in the end.”

That night, you had trouble falling asleep. You let yourself scroll through all your social media accounts mindlessly, however without fail you’d see something BTS-related and there he would be, staring at you with his heart-fluttering smile through your iPhone screen. Groaning, you twisted around in your bed, moving towards your nightstand to put your phone away when you heard your phone vibrate.

[12:47] jungkookie: hey, r u awake?

You stared at the notification banner with wide eyes. Contemplating whether to answer him or not, your sister’s advice came into mind; with hesitation, you clicked on it and started typing your response.

[12:47] you: yea can’t sleep for some reason

[12:47] jungkookie: same, me too

Biting down on your lip, you finally sighed before locking your phone, unsure of how to respond. However, before you could put it away, your screen lit up again.

[12:48] jungkookie: can we talk?

[12:48] you: it’s pretty late jungkook... don’t you have a recording tmrw?

[12:48] jungkookie: i'll be okay can i call?

[12:48] you: i don’t think now’s a good time, jungkook

You knew what Chungah said was right, but everything was still fresh for you. You were afraid, that whatever Jungkook might say to you that night—anything really—you’d be too emotional to handle it properly.

You needed time.

[12:48] jungkookie: maybe tomorrow then?

[12:49] you: i have a lot of meetings tmrw maybe some other time

You watched as the grey typing bubble appeared and disappeared for several minutes after you had sent your last text message. You sat in fear, hoping he would drop it but also couldn’t help but anticipate what he had to say.

[12:50] jungkookie: that’s okay, some other time it is goodnight Y/N

You stared at the text for a while before pressing the lock button, shoving the phone underneath your pillow. Sleep, you needed to sleep.

“One second!”

Holding the iPad closer to your chest, you took in a deep breath as the studio door swung open. Dressed in simple sweats, yet managing to still look effortlessly handsome, you watched as Jungkook pulled his headphones back, so that it was only covering one ear. Gaze resting on you, his eyes widened slightly in surprise.

“Y/N?”

Looking away, you mumbled softly, “I was assigned to discuss styling plans for your upcoming interview regarding the collaboration.”

Eyes glancing back at the digital clock that rested on his desk, he [said], “Right! I forgot about that. Come inside...”

Reaching out, Jungkook held the door back as you quickly slid yourself past him, moving to the opposite side of the room. Closing the door behind you, he turned around to face you.

“We can sit on the couch if you want.” he offered.

Nodding slowly, you made your way over to the navy blue couch which sat across from his recording equipment. Following you, he sat beside you while still remaining a significant distance away.

You didn’t know whether to feel hurt or relieved.

“So—” you started, clearing your throat as you forced yourself to push your emotions aside and act more professional, “IU’s stylist sent me over what she’s planning on wearing and he suggested that we try to color-coordinate.”

Unlocking your iPad, you opened up your dropbox which was filled with different sketches and samples of outfits you had pre-planned for him. You clicked on the file IU’s stylist had sent you, “This is what she’ll be wearing.”

Jungkook moved in slightly closer to you, as he peered over your hands to see the image you pulled up. Sketches of a pale satin blue sundress appeared on the screen, followed by an image of IU wearing the dress itself.

“Wow, she looks amazing.” he whispered in awe when he suddenly looked up at you, a flustered look spreading across his face, “I-I mean, so would anyone else—”

Ignoring him, despite the pang of jealousy that came with his side comment, your lips pursed into a thin line as you continued to scroll down the files. Jungkook gulped beside you, scolding himself mentally for being an idiot who couldn’t control his thoughts.

“Pants or Jeans?” Jungkook murmured softly, causing you to look at him in surprise.

“Huh?”

Pointing towards the notes you had scribbled in the bottom corner of the page, he said, “You wrote, pants or jeans here. Personally, I think black slacks would work well with this outfit.”

“Ah, that.” you replied, quickly nodding, “I think you’re right too. Here, let me show you some of the sets I had paired.”

Within minutes, the discomfort you had initially felt had worn off as you and Jungkook continued to discuss more about his outfit choices and all the specific technicalities that followed with choosing certain brands than others.

“Honestly, you know I’m not too picky. These aren’t really my style, but I’ll wear what I need to for the interview.” he said to which you laughed slightly, “Jungkook, if we let you dress up in your style, you’d just wear all black.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with that?!” he grinned, flashing you a cheeky smile.

You had missed moments like this. Moments where he would crack jokes with you, give you a playful wink when he made a cheeky statement or smile at you when you could lend him words of encouragement. Moments you had decided you couldn’t handle anymore because of your growing feelings.

But maybe you could return to normalcy; maybe if you tried hard enough, things could be the same.

Shaking your head in amusement, you gave him a knowing look before bringing your attention back to your notes. Circling the option the both of you agreed on, and adding some final notes for alterations, you pressed the lock button.

Looking back up at him, you noticed he was already staring at you, a soft smile resting on his face. Upon being caught, he quickly lowered his gaze, staring down at his hands that were clasped together tightly in his lap.

“I-I should get going now,” you said softly, the tension slowly starting to build up to what it was when you first got here.

“Y-Yea...”

Giving him a small goodbye, you got up from the couch and made your way towards the door. Watching you from behind, Jungkook had to hold himself from reaching out and grabbing your arm to stop you from leaving him. He should’ve asked you more questions, more details about his outfit, more about the interview itself even though you wouldn’t know the answers to them, just to keep you with him here longer. Instead, he watched as you walked away.

Reaching the door handle, your sister’s words rung through your head, causing you to hesitate. Sighing under your breath, you contemplated turning around or simply leaving. But before you could come to a decision, a voice pulled you out your thoughts.

“Y/N, w-wait...”

Fingertips barely grazing the top of the handle, you stiffened as you heard the couch creak, followed by footsteps moving towards your direction.

“Can we talk?” you heard him ask softly.

Shutting your eyes tightly, you let out a shaky breath before turning around halfway. Jungkook was looking down at your feet, his brows furrowed tightly together as he shifted from one foot to another.

“I just—” he started with a sigh, running his hands through his hair, “The way I said things the other day were really harsh, and I regretted them the moment I said them. I just feel like, there are a lot of things unspoken between us and I just wanna talk—”

“Okay.”

Stopping mid-sentence, Jungkook looked at you in slight surprise, “O-Okay?”

Nodding, you completely turned around so that you were facing him, “Yea, let’s talk. Chungah said I needed to hear you out...” you trailed off, ending with a soft mumble, “Or something like that.”

At that, the corner of Jungkook’s mouth twitched, “Chungah said that? Guess I owe your sister, huh?”

Laughing lightly, silence quickly filled the room soon after, neither of you knowing what to say, or where to even start. Finally, as the tension grew enough to suffocate you, you let out a huge breath, lifting your eyes to meet his, “Jungkook—”

“Wait, before you talk, can I say something first?” he quickly intercepts, his eyes pleading as you gave him a silent nod.

“The things you said the other day had me thinking a lot,” he started, “When you mentioned the night at the dance studio, and then the show with IU, I started thinking about what you were trying to say because in that moment, I was filled with so much pent-up frustration that I didn’t even try to understand. But after I was much calmer, I thought about it and...I think I get it now.” Scratching the back of his neck, you saw what you thought was him blushing as his face flushed a deep shade of red, “A-and, I wanted you to know that I feel the same way too.”

Blinking at him, you stared at him for what seemed like too long before he gave you a flustered look, “I just—I thought about how I felt that night in the dance studio with you and then I thought about all of the other times you made me feel the same way, whether it was when you were by my side during the tour or when you were always supportive of everything I did, everything started to make sense.”

You knew exactly what he was saying, yet you couldn’t believe your own ears. Your hands shook at your sides, as you quickly clutched the material of your skirt in attempts to hide your nervousness from Jungkook.

“W-what made sense?” you asked in a soft whisper. Meeting your gaze, he saw the way you looked at him earnestly, anticipation dripping from your gaze. Chuckling softly, Jungkook stepped closer to you. His hands slowly reached down to yours, removing them from your skirt and enclosing them within his own.

“It made sense that all this time Y/N, I was in love with you.”

You blinked furiously at him, his words causing your heart to beat so loud, you could feel it drumming in your ear. Yet as you stood there staring at him, his eyes suddenly making your knees weaken, the only words you could muster up were, “W-was?”

Lips parting, Jungkook stared at you before stifling a laugh. The look on his face was enough to break you out of your initial shock; frowning slightly, you gave his shoulder a gentle shove.

“I’m being serious...” you murmured, feeling embarrassed as you looked away.

Jungkook smiled, almost shyly, before lowering his head and crouching down to match your level, forcing you to meet his gaze yet again.

“Am.” he whispered softly, his brown orbs staring lovingly into yours, “I am in love with you. So damn much.”

Tears pricking the corner of your eyes, you shook your head in disbelief as you felt every neuron in your body explode, a million fireworks going off as you stood there staring at the boy who you loved so much, admit that he loved you back.

Before you could regret anything, you threw your arms around him and pulled him into a hug, your head resting on his chest as you could hear the way his heart thrummed against it.

“Jungkook, I love you so much too.” you finally whispered, laughing lightly through the tears that escaped your eyes.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled you closer to him as he held you tighter, his head resting perfectly into the crook of your neck, “I never thought I would hear you say that.”

Pulling away, you gave him a silly look, sniffling, “You’re an idiot. Who wouldn’t love you?”

Laughing softly, Jungkook said with a fond look, “I didn’t care about anyone else, except you Y/N. You were all that mattered to me.”

Feeling a new wave of tears come about, you were about to ask him when he had learned to get all gushy like that when a certain someone came to mind. Noticing the smile on your face had faded, your brows furrowing together, Jungkook looked at you in concern.

“What’s wrong?”

Pressing your lips together, you looked up at him, “I need to explain myself too, Jungkook. That day when you saw me with Jiho—”

“Y/N, it’s alright—.”

“No, it’s not! You deserve to know—”

Pressing a finger to your lips, you closed your mouth as you looked at him with wide eyes. Laughing at the expression on your face, he finally said, “We talked about it. Jiho and I. He told me everything, so don’t worry. You don’t have to explain.”

At that, you blinked at him in surprise, “You and Jiho talked? When?”

“The same day. When you had left us both standing there, I kinda got upset at him but in the end we talked it all out and he told me everything.” Jungkook replied. He remembered the way he had turned to face Jiho as soon as you had left his sight, his gaze blazing with anger at the older man when he suddenly saw Jiho with his head hung low, defeat evident in his eyes. Both of them had sat down in the staff room, the room where just minutes ago Jiho had kissed you, a moment he knew he would regret for his entire life. There, he had told Jungkook everything. From how he knew Jungkook had liked you, how Jiho had loved you for so long and how he didn’t think Jungkook deserved you. But eventually, Jiho had admitted that it was his own selfishness and insecurities which were stopping him from accepting Jungkook.

“Ah, really?” you mumbled. Your eyes fluttered close as a soft sigh evaded your lips. During the time you spent avoiding Jungkook, you had ignored Jiho’s texts and calls too. You felt like the world’s biggest hypocrite.

You felt a hand brush against your cheek, pulling your attention back to the boy who stood before you.

“I know what you’re thinking, and I can’t even imagine how much he’s hurting. But, this isn’t your fault, okay? Just remember that.” Jungkook told you in hopes of reassuring you.

A moment passed before you finally spoke, “I-I just...I wish I had known before. I wish he had told me so I could’ve told him that all my life, he’s always been the older brother figure in my life. The timing of all this is just horrible, you know?”

Pulling you back into your arms, Jungkook rubbed your back softly as you took comfort in his touch. One on hand, the guilt gnawed at you but on the other, you knew this was what your heart had been waiting for all your life.

“Y/N, don’t feel guilty about being happy. We’ll figure this out together, step by step, alright?” Jungkook whispered into your ear. Hearing his words, you felt your heart fill with warmth, the word together causing you to break into a smile as you nodded.

“Yea, together.”

“Jungkook! Where are we going!”

Flailing you arms about, trying to grasp onto something to make sense of where you were, you felt a warm hand slip into yours before Jungkook scolded you in a hushed whisper, “Could you be any louder!? I snuck away from late night practice for this. Hoseok hyung will kill me if he finds out!”

Attempting to roll your eyes underneath the blindfold Jungkook had haphazardly tied across your eyes, you instead chose to pout, whining softly, “Hey, you’re the one who kidnapped me. I just wanna know where we’re going~”

Suddenly, you felt your cheeks squish together, the motion causing you to go still as you felt Jungkook’s hot breath dangerously close to your face. Lips puckered like a fish, you stammered, “J-Jungkook—”

“Stop acting cute or I’ll kiss you, dumbass,” he mumbled softly, his words causing your cheeks to heat up.

Releasing your cheeks, Jungkook grabbed your hand again as you bit down on your lip to prevent yourself from saying anything else. You let Jungkook lead you up a staircase, when you heard the sound of a door creaking open, a sudden gust of wind welcoming you.

“Are we—” you started when you felt Jungkook move behind you, untying the blindfold as the cloth fell from your eyes. Blinking, you let out a soft gasp as you took in the sight in front of you.

“What is all this?” you whispered out loud, as you looked around in awe. You were standing in the rooftop of the BigHit building as the area looked completely different to how it usually does; blankets were spread around with pillows of all sizes everywhere, some even resembling a fort. Beside that laid a mini grilling set, meat and veggies resting on the side as a pack of beer cans sat beside it. String lights were hung from across the area, the soft yellow lights twinkling like stars as the brought a gentle warmth despite the darkness that enveloped the night sky above you.

"D-do you like it?”

Glancing up at Jungkook, you stared at him as he peered down at you nervously, rolling his lips between his teeth. Shaking your head in disbelief, you threw yourself onto Jungkook, your arms wrapping around his neck as you grinned, “Do I like it? This is amazing Jungkook, I absolutely love it!”

You watched as he sighed in immediate relief, his shoulders relaxing as you turned back around to look at the set-up one more time, “Jungkook, why did you do all this, I’m—”

Wrapping his arms from behind you, he rested his head in the crook of your neck as you turned to look at him, his face just mere millimeters away from yours, “I wanted to do something special for you. A surprise first date.”

You raised a brow, before musing, “A date? I didn’t realize we were dating, Jungkook.”

Jungkook suddenly looked flustered, his eyes widening as he broke out into a fit of coughs, nervous laughter spilling past his lips, “I-I, uh, um—”

Stifling a laugh, your hand grasped the collar of his jacket before pulling him down to your level, kissing him right on the cheek. Pulling back, you gave him a playful wink before grinning, “I’m kidding, dumbass.”

Blinking, he watched as you pulled away from his grasp and made your way to the area he had set-up for your date. His fingers slowly grazed the spot on his cheek where you had kissed him, the feeling of your soft lips still stuck in his memory.

“Jungkook, are you coming or not?” he heard you call, as you tried your best not to laugh at the flushed look on his face, despite having your own heart race as your lips tingled.

After you and Jungkook had eaten every last ounce of meat, even playing an endless round of rock-paper-scissors to see who would get the last piece, (Jungkook won, but still ended up feeding it to you. “It’s called true love,” he grinned cheekily.) the both of you were finally full and were now resting against the mountain of soft pillows around you as you overlooked the bustling nightlife beneath you.

Cracking open a beer can, Jungkook handed it to you as you gave him a small thank you, before taking a sip, the cold liquid rushing down your throat.

“Mm, that’s good stuff,” you hummed in appreciation, quickly taking another sip as the bittersweet taste fills your mouth.

“Slow down there, I don’t want you getting drunk that fast.”

“Why, you planning on doing something?” you teased boldly, not knowing where this surge of confidence within you came from. Rolling his eyes in amusement, Jungkook simply moved closer to you before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to his side, allowing you to naturally rest your head on his chest, his own resting atop your head.

Snuggling closer into his touch, you let out a sigh of content before you finally said, “You know? This reminds me of the time you called me to drink with you on the rooftop of your old dormitory.”

“Hmm, really?”

“I remember saying some really dangerous things back then when I was drunk,” you chuckled softly, “I’m pretty sure I asked you back then if you liked me.”

Taking another sip, Jungkook’s brows quirked, the corner of his lips twitching in amusement, “You did? Wow, what did I say?”

“You didn’t hear me,” you replied with a snort looking back on the memory, “And then I caught myself, so I quickly changed the question to ask you whether you had ever liked someone.”

Shaking his head, Jungkook laughed, “Of course you did that. Imagine if you had actually answered me Y/N, you could’ve saved us several years.”

At that, the smile on your lips fell. Removing yourself from him, you turned to stare at him with wide eyes, “W-what?”

His brows knitted together in confusion as he took in your shocked appearance, “What? What happened?”

“What do you mean by I could’ve saved us several years?” you repeated slowly, your gaze unwavering while Jungkook blinked, before you saw his lips curve upwards into a smile.

“Y/N,” he started, his eyes softening. The way he looked at you reminded you of when he had told you he loved you, your heart fluttering at the memory. Jungkook gently tucked the stray strands that fell out of your ponytail back behind your ear, before he whispered softly, “Did you think I only started loving you recently?”

You blinked once. Twice. Until his words seeped into your brain.

“W-hat?” you stammered. The bold character you played so confidently seemed to fall apart as you stared at the boy in front of you, his gentle gaze making you feel something almost indescribable.

Jungkook’s hand was now cupping your cheeks, as his fingers gently brushed against your cheekbone, “I didn’t know it at first. I always thought we were just really close, nothing more than best-friends. But later I realized—” he chuckled softly, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe it himself, “—I realized that, all this time, what I felt towards you had always been love. I’ve loved you since the beginning Y/N...”

“Jungkook.” you whispered with a soft smile, tears shimmering in your eyes.

As his name left your lips, Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes flickered down to your lips before meeting your gaze once again, your cheeks flaring up in response. Just as he started moving closer, your eyes began to flutter close when you felt his hands graze yours, before he carefully removed the beer can from your hand, setting it aside. Glancing at it in slight confusion, you blinked curiously at Jungkook when suddenly you felt a pair of gentle, warm lips meet your own.

Lingering for only a little while, it was enough to have you chasing as you immediately pulled Jungkook’s neck back towards you so that you could kiss him again, your chest bursting with a feeling you had never knew existed. The softness of his lips enveloped yours as they gently, lovingly glided across your own, his hands trailing down to your waist as he pulled you flush against him.

Losing your balance, before you knew it you had fallen against Jungkook, pushing him back as the both of you fell against the pillows around you. Pulling away with a soft chuckle, your foreheads were touching as you felt completely breathless, a shaky breath escaping his own lips as his eyes fluttered open to meet yours, sparkling like the stars above.

Leaning back in, he pressed a soft kiss to your nose, and then your forehead, his touch sending flutters down your spine. Finally, Jungkook pulled you into a hug, and you basked in the warmth of his body as you hummed in content. You thought you could probably stay like this forever, and if time decided to stop at this exact moment, you’d be fine to be in this exact position, under the stars with the boy you had loved so much. It was crazy to think how long you had dreamed of this, to be able to hold him, kiss him and call him yours. Yet, before you knew it there you were, living it all.

“I don’t wanna leave. Can we just stay here?” Jungkook murmurs, arms tightening, “like, all night?”

Chuckling, you leaned back and rested your arms on his chest, “You know we can’t, Hoseok would kill you.”

Even though he knew you were right, instead Jungkook chose to purse his lips together into a pout. Laughing, you brought your hands up to his cheeks and pinched them lovingly, cooing as he simply batted your hands away, whining softly. The both of you burst into soft giggles as you gently brought his face back to yours, hoping to continue where you left off.

Bang!

Freezing in the position you were in, Jungkook and you turned around abruptly as you saw the rooftop door swing open, slamming the wall behind it, the sound echoing in your eyes. Your eyes widened as they fell upon a figure standing at the entrance,

"Shit.” Jungkook murmured, while you ducked your head back into Jungkook’s chest, your face flushing in embarrassment.

Hoseok crossed his arms across his chest disapprovingly, despite the hint of amusement that played across his lips.

“Jeon Jungkook!”

457 notes · View notes

gossip-girl-of-middleearth · 3 years

Note

Hello! I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfy but I was wondering if I could get a bit of advice? From your recent posts, you said you left your home from toxicity and just bad things in general.

I’m in a similar situation, but my dad will be taking me away from my mom. And I just know it’ll be a shit show. And I’m absolutely terrified when we tell her and what the backlash will be afterwards towards my brothers and me and dad in general

How did you do it? How did you take the leap? Do you possibly have any advice on how to deal ?

Hello, friend!! ☀️

Thank you so much for reaching out, it means a lot that you value my advice <3

Hmm, okay from what I can tell of your situation, that is indeed a tricky one, but nothing can’t be overcome!

It’s important to remember, though, I was 19 when I left (now 20), so the way I handled things is going to be a lot different than how a minor can handle things (legally at least, feel free to replicate my insane stunts lmao)

Advice below the cut! (family violence trigger warning, I suppose?)

My entire family was and is extremely volatile, and I don’t speak to any of them anymore except for my older brother, but I’ll be cutting him off in 3 weeks too when I move.

Fortunately, my dad and brother were both kicked out of the house years ago due to violence, which left me with my mother, who’s quite insidious herself (just watch any Conjuring movie and that’ll give a good idea of what it was like living in that house lol)

I get the same feeling watching this scene as when I was around her in that house. Granted she didn’t try to change my gender, but the hatred for my father getting taken out on me is pretty accurate lol, paired with the immediate “motherly love” afterwards (she never hit me though, pleased to say — she wasn’t physically violent, just emotionally, financially, mentally and verbally. She did try to run my dad over once though, so, there’s that too)

youtube

Yikes…yeahh the same eerie feeling for sure, still makes all my hairs stand upright in memory.

(For further context this clip reminds me of my father and this one of my brother)

In the clip about my father, he definitely reminds me of Frank Gallagher, except he despises my mother instead of revering her. He’s a workaholic instead of a drug addict, too. But the mannerisms are the same. I always handled him in the way Fiona does.

Regarding my brother, I think everything about our family hit him the hardest, despite being the oldest. He developed a very violent streak, and has very poor impulse control. I love him dearly but he’s a snake in the grass, and has thrown me under the bus multiple times to get ahead in life. I mostly just pity him, since I know what our life was like growing up. But still, I can’t defend him forever, especially not at the cost of myself. Literally yesterday I woke up to a text from him asking me to come pick him up because he got arrested for starting a fight at a bar and smashing their windows.

When things started getting pretty bad with my mother earlier this year, I started to realise in my heart that there was no way I could go forth in life with her in it. I focused on the future relationships I would have one day when far away from this town — romantic partner, children, friends etc

I sort of realised one day I’d care about them a lot more than I care about my mother, because those future people would care about me. That in turn got me realising that I do deserve love, despite how my mother made me feel, and that I don’t want her to deprive another second of that in my life.

Something very unique that triggered this too was going to go visit an old family psychic, who’s basically just the Gandalf to my Frodo (ily, Chris <3). He very accurately predicted my birth years ago after my mother was told she was infertile — he got the date, year and time right three years in advance, and even knew ahead of time what my personality would be like, which he was spot-on about.

Well, I went and visited him a few months ago because I was lost with my direction, and he ended up pausing and had a sudden feeling, which led to him telling me that he’d just found out I would be having twin boys one day.

Normally I don’t buy into that stuff, but this Gandalf dude…well I knew he was right.

Knowing I’d have sons of my own one day took me from a scared daughter mindset and into a maternal mother bear in an instant, and I knew I didn’t want any children of mine around my mother or the rest of my family, for their safety alone, which made me realise, “Well, if I wouldn’t allow my own children near them, why do I allow myself?”

I started grey-rocking her in the lead-up to me leaving, which of course frustrated her (she’s a malignant narcissist), but it was a necessary step to start emotionally detaching myself from her.

It all bottled over one night after a pretty distressing argument (I had locked myself in my room to avoid it, but she was still at my door carrying on).

My cat, who’s been my best friend for years, was sitting on the floor next to me, and sort of looked up and I swear he spoke with his eyes, saying, “You know we can’t keep doing this, right? You know this abuse has an expiry date?”

I agreed with my cat and knew right then and there that I’d be leaving that night after my mother fell asleep.

Well, when she was finally done (with threats that there’d be more in stock in the morning, mind you) I went to bed early and set my alarm to 3am (was a little inside joke with myself, since that’s biblically the “witching devil hour”)

I started quietly packing my quilt and cat up (I’d already been secretly packing the boot of my car up with all sentimental and important items weeks in advance, except she caught on and took all my baby albums and more to her boyfriend’s house, so I don’t have any baby photos or information on me when I was a baby anymore, like first words, size and just general things I’d have liked to compare to my own kids one day, rip)

Once that was all in my car, I quietly said goodbye to the old family dog and cat (they weren’t mine to take, not that I could’ve anyways, since it was troubling enough taking Buddy, who’s actually my pet and not the family one). That was pretty heartbreaking, as I knew that’d be the last time I’d see them (I grew up with them and was the only one who took care of them — mother neglects kids and pets alike lmao).

Once that was over, I looked around my house with my hand on the front door and was very melancholy, but knew Buddy was right: it had all reached its expiry date.

I left very quietly and drove to McDonalds for a coffee, as I had a long drive ahead (I had organised to be a nanny in this rich family’s house far away in the city — two hours drive). Luckily they were away on their country farm 4 hours away, so I had time to sneak Buddy in.

The nanny thing recently backfired horribly because they discovered Buddy, which led to more AM escapes with my car, but I’m staying with my older brother and his gf for 3 more weeks only. Something I’ve been working towards for months now is moving to a wilderness island to live in my country’s equivalent of Bag End — a beautiful country cottage, amazing job and fantastic study opportunities.

Best feature yet: it’s 60 hours away from my hometown by car, and then you’d have to take a boat for 10 more hours!! They shall never find me hahaha

One of my friends has also told me recently that my mother has started spreading horrible, defamatory rumours about me around town, but I don’t care anymore because I’m almost out.

So, although I can’t offer any practical advice (idk if you’re a minor or not, but regardless it’s great your dad is helping you!) this is the best advice I can offer:

Find a dream and hold onto it, one that doesn’t involve your immediate family. For me it’s moving to that island and enjoying all the fresh air. It’ll push you forwards and remind you of what you’re fighting for when at your lowest.

Remind yourself there will be other people in your life, whether a spouse, friends, children or even a dog! (I’m getting a golden retriever next year 🐾) And then remember that you deserve all of them and the unconditional love they offer you.

Remember that if you don’t want your mother/family screwing those people over by proxy of her/their relationship to you, then there’s no way in hell you alone should put up with it either, as I guarantee those future people only want good things for you ☀️

There is a good life after abuse, I’ve seen it, and I know you can achieve it, too!

Be prepared for tons of backlash and bullshit — it’s inescapable when dealing with people like this, but I recommend educating yourself on narcissistic parents and tactics to deal with them.

Finding a good therapist who deals in PTSD regarding childhood abuse is important, too. I found an amazing one in the town I’m moving to, who had nearly the same upbringing as me!

So while I’m still struggling with a lot of fear (scared my mother will find where I’m working and living one day) and guilt (I feel horrible about leaving the family dog and cat behind, especially when they need veterinary help, only to then go and get myself another puppy) I understand I’ve done the best I can in a very abnormal situation, and that I can only do better from here.

Also, this song has been a saving grace when going all angsty over wanting to leave your current situation:

It’s from my favourite Broadway Musical, “Newsies”, and lemme tell you — discovering this as a 17-year-old when I was just starting to realise the severity of my situation was pure divinity.

Jeremy Jordan, my beloved Broadway Bard <3

youtube

When I finally get my cottage, I’m getting a wooden plaque with the name “Santa Fe” engraved on it, and am hanging it on my front door.

I wish you much luck and love, my little anonymous friend! And please know my inbox is open any time you need anything — vent, advice, a laugh or something else, ANYTHING, it feels good to know my past can maybe help someone else’s present ☀️

Please update me, too! I’m following your story along ardently now! (Also, be sure to take your sentimental items and store them somewhere safe away from your mother — ie baby albums, birth certificates, other paraphernalia/memorabilia etc).

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must hit the road. DESTINY AWAITS!

#ahh yes #Newsies my beloved <3 #and bless my family Gandalf #I’m gonna send him a gift next year from the small country town I’m moving to for his birthday as a thanks #also I’m torn between naming the golden retriever ‘Jaskier/Dandelion’ or ‘Glorfindel/Glorfy’ now #so happy that’ll soon be my only dilemma in life <33

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starculler · 3 years

Text

Whumptober 2021: Day 5

Word Count: 6042 || Read on Ao3

Tags/Warnings: Star Wars, Anakin Skywalker, Sheev Palpatine Ahsoka Tano, Rex, Mace Windu, Violence, Implied Torture, Fake Death, loss of limb (fingers)

Another one in by the skin of my teeth lol.

Anakin nodded at the pair of clones, red and white clad troopers from the Coruscant Guard, stationed in front of the outermost doors to the Chancellor’s suite as he strode past and inside to the office they’d always met in. The grand room, and the hall before it, looked as it always had during any of his visits: haloed in the sun’s light and filled with any number of priceless artifacts and fine, if simply constructed, furniture. And all of it painted a bright, rich red from floor to ceiling that gave way to the raised, warm gray flooring nearer the windows. He stopped before that raised section, hands fisted and trembling beneath the larger sleeves of his dark brown robe, and looked up, past the stairs and chairs and desk at its very center to the Chancellor himself, smiling placidly down at him.

“Anakin, my dear boy,” the Chancellor greeted, pleased, and it was all Anakin could do not to scream. “I wasn’t expecting you, but please come. Take a seat. I always have time for a friend.”

“My apologies, Chancellor,” he said neutrally. He offered a shallow bow, jaw clenched as he ground his teeth. It hurt to breathe, a vice wrapped around his chest and squeezing his lungs so painfully tight he thought he might suffocate on the spot. “We just got back from a” — horrible nightmare, he thought and only a hitch in his breath to give it away —“campaign in the Outer Rim. I thought the resupply was also a good excuse to give my Padawan and I some time to rest planetside. I hope I haven’t interrupted anything important.”

“Not at all.” Pal— The Chancellor, shook his head, smile still in place, if a little tighter when he gestured to the chairs in front of his desk and said, again: “Please. Sit. How is your padawan doing? Last we spoke, you sounded quite frustrated. Understandable, of course,” he said, amiable and sympathetic. “Teenagers, especially her age, can be difficult, though I have no doubts that you’re doing your best.”

Anakin walked up the four steps to the platform and not an inch closer even as he offered a tight smile of his own. He tasted sour bile in the back of his mouth to hear the man so much as mention Ahsoka, even if he’d kept her name out of his mouth. Still, he bobbed his head in acknowledgment of the question and answered.

“She’s doing good, Your Excellency. I think we’ve come to understand each other a little better since the last time I was able to speak with you.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” said the Chancellor, sounding, to Anakin’s ears, just a fraction displeased at the news.

“Yes,” he agreed. “It is.”

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

They’d lost so many men.

Ahsoka hadn’t been able to purge that haunting sight from her since they’d hobbled back to the Resolute, victorious but silent. The bodies of men she’d slowly grown closer to lived on the backs of her eyelids, there to see every time she closed her eyes. All of them left behind like so much trash, unburied and with no time to mourn them as they hurried on to the next planet. The next battlefield. The next slaughter.

She shuddered, huddled up in a deserted corner of the ship — so deep in that she’d lost track of where exactly she’d walked — as far from everyone else as she’d been able to manage. Misery clung to her, sticking and ugly, and she knew. She knew it was worse for the men who’d lost their brothers. Their friends. So she sat alone, the tears long-dried on her cheeks, not wanting to interrupt or take up space she didn’t deserve. They weren’t her brothers, but they’d been her men for almost a year and she cared. More than she probably should.

“Hey, Snips.”

She jerked, eyes wide, not having heard her master coming down the corridor. He smiled, a wan, withering thing. Nothing at all like the usual bluster and brightness he showed off in front of everyone. She said nothing as he sat, legs crossed and elbows resting on his knees, in front of her. He looked so tired. Stressed. He hadn’t been the neatest or most put-together looking Jedi she’d ever met, but he’d grown slowly worse since their last trip to Coruscant.

“Hey,” she said, voice duller than she’d meant it to be.

“How’re you holding up?” She considered the question. Considered lying, but…

“Not… not great.” Anakin hummed, but didn’t interrupt. She didn’t dare look at him as she spoke, not wanting to see how he felt about what she admitted. “I just— I don’t know—” She hooked her fingers into the thick, white fabric of her leggings and pulled her legs in closer. “I wanted to be a Jedi so bad.” She hated how she choked on the words, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “I still do, really. But. But there’s just so much—

“It’s awful,” she whispered and startled when an arm settled over her shoulder and pulled so she was pressed tight to her master’s side. Wrapped up in her roiling emotions as she’d been, she hadn’t even noticed him move. She sniffled, turning to hide her face in his dark tunic. “There’s so much death, master. So much pain. I feel it all the time and I. I don’t know how to—”

The words died in her throat, smothered by an awful sob half-muffled by her master’s warmth. He rubbed her shoulder as she cried, pulled in as close as either could physically manage.

“How do you do it, Master,” she croaked once she’d mostly calmed. “How do you not care so hard?” She felt him still next to her, almost a flinch. Before she could apologize, take the words and this moment back and flee to her room, he answered, his own voice low and soft. Gentle.

“You never stop, Snips. You just … learn. You put it aside when you’re needed, and work through it when you’re not.” He sighed. “I’m not— Well. You know I’m not always great with my emotions, not like Obi-Wan or some of the other Masters.” She nodded in the lull, waiting for him to gather himself. “But the worst of it, the parts that’d only hurt you or the men to see? I keep it locked in a little box with an old fashioned lock and key, stashed away until I have time to meditate or process or even just when I work on a ship or droid.

“Every time we come back from a campaign and I count how many we’ve lost, I feel it so hard I think I’ll never breathe again. Usually, I’ll rely on Obi-Wan if it’s bad enough and he knows he can lean on me if he needs it. You, my young Padawan, can come to me any time you need to,” he said, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze. “Anytime. Any reason. Even if it’s just to sit quietly together.”

Ahsoka nodded, not feeling better but not quite as alone either.

“Can we meditate?” She asked, voice trembling and tiny.

“Of course,” he said. Neither of them moved, not just yet.

“Hey Skyguy?” Anakin hummed a response. “You can count on me too, if you want.”

He said nothing for a long moment, and she saw his other hand twitch from the corner of her eyes — a brief motion, there and done.

“I know,” he murmured, so quietly a human wouldn’t have heard him even though her montrals picked the words up easily. “I know.”

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Anakin sucked in a deep, bracing breath, willing himself to be still and patient for just a little longer despite how every second he stood there only fueled the pit of anger coiled tightly in his gut. It had been easier, on the Resolute — in space and among his men where he didn’t have to look at the face of a man who��d lied to him for as long as they’d known each other. A man he’d defended against criticism and let whisper in his ear. A man he’d let slowly poison him from the inside until the rot had settled deep in the core of him, a permanent fixture he looked upon with shame and regret. And anger.

“I’m afraid I haven’t come just to visit an old friend, though.” His voice, miraculously, didn’t so much as waver, the words flowing as smoothly from him as they never had.

The Chancellor’s eyes seemed to narrow for a moment — so quick he almost thought he’d misinterpreted it, a trick of the light and nothing more — before he spoke, his tone even and jovial. “And what can I do to help you then, Anakin? Or have you come as Knight Skywalker? On behalf of the Jedi, perhaps,” he said, not a question. Anakin shook his head in answer regardless.

“I’m not here on behalf of the Jedi, Chancellor, but I am here as a Knight of the Order though I act alone.” He swallowed and carefully, slowly, reached down to his belt where his lightsaber hung, singing to him so faintly at that moment that it could have been miles away. The Chancellor didn’t move, didn’t so much as twitch, as he pulled the cool, metal casing from its clip and held it, unlit, in the palm of his flesh hand.

“What have you come here for, Knight Skywalker?”

A chill seemed to settle in the air between them that set every nerve in Anakin’s body aflame, alive and electric through his limbs so that he felt even the faint, phantom pain in his prosthetic. He curled his mechanical fingers into a fist, clenching and unclenching them for a few tense seconds the way he sometimes did before battle, when he worried that very pain might get in the way and cost more of his men their lives. His shoulders strained with the tension creeping into him, and he struggled to keep let it go.

“Chancellor Palpatine, I accuse you of being a Sith Lord and traitor to the Republic.”

The Chancellor laughed like Anakin had told a particularly funny joke, and said: “My boy, I am an old man who has dedicated his life, and a decade already as Chancellor, to the betterment of the Republic. How could I possibly be a-a Sith?” He asked, just the right amount of incredulity saturating the question. “I fear, my boy, that you are tired — this war has taken its toll on us all, and with you needed so often on the front and so firmly in the thick of the worst of it. Well, it hurts, but I’m unsurprised to find even a young man as impressive as you, my friend, might be swayed by this cruel joke under the circumstances.”

“It isn’t a joke,” Anakin snarled, finally losing the firm grip he’d kept on his anger. “I saw you.” The man stilled, thin lips pressed together in a grim line as he sat back in his chair too peer at Anakin like he were a bug. “I saw you,” he said again, breathing heavily, almost panting. “In your office, your private office, just before the 501st shipped out last time. Talking to Dooku.” He spat the name like a curse, filthier than any other word in his vocabulary.

“My boy, whatever you thought you saw—”

“He called you Sidious. He called you Master.” He bared his teeth at the man who’d been his friend, white-knuckled grip on his saber’s hilt tightening almost painfully. “You’ve betrayed the Republic.

“I am the Republic!” Anakin staggered when The Chancellor’s eyes flashed, bright yellow instead of deep brown.

“You’re a traitor,” Anakin bellowed back, finally igniting his lightsaber at his side. “You’ll turn yourself in, or I’ll bring you in myself. It’s my duty as a Jedi,” he said, not at all the confident declaration he’d meant it to be.

“Just as it was your duty to — what was it again? Eschew attachments?” Anakin flinched, but grit his teeth, determined. “My boy, Anakin, please see reason.”

“Reason? What reason? You’re-you’re a Sith!” He widened his stance as the Chancellor finally stood up from behind the desk, leaning forward on his hands against its smooth surface. His gaze burned into Anakin’s, boring in with such intensity he feared the man saw right down to the deepest, most vulnerable parts of him no matter how hard Anakin might try to keep him out. “You were my friend,” he said, nearly a whisper and not at all what he’d meant to.

“I still am.” The Chancellor smiled, but Anakin felt none of the warmth from it that he used to. “I can help you, Anakin. I can help you keep your loved ones safe in these awful times. I can give you the power to keep them safe with your own two hands. Power the Jedi could only dream of.” He paused, eyes gleaming bright and greedy as he said: “I could give you the galaxy.”

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Rex watched his general putter about the camp, looking more a mess than usual. He seemed not unlike a droid, his every move mechanically rote as he went about his tasks and his gaze distant in that way Rex sometimes saw on shell shocked shinies. He pursed his lips, grip on his bucket tightening a fraction. Their last campaign had been rough: heavy losses and a victory won by the skin of their teeth. He’d seen how it had left the Commander, much as Ahsoka had tried to hide it, and the next one was gearing up to be just as bad or worse if the 212th were held up.

General Skywalker, however, had been worrying him since long before. He didn’t know how much his general thought he was fooling Rex — and it rankled that he might have if not for little moments like this — but he wouldn’t fool anyone if this went on much longer. He’d heard troopers talking, spotting Skywalker up at all hours of the night, amiable enough but also mumbling to himself when he thought no one would see. Rex had done his best to keep the worst of it under wraps: making up reasons for the general’s wandering, erasing the occasional unauthorized flight on his personal junker of a ship, filling in reports that skipped his notice or forging them altogether.

What he couldn’t hide, Rex waved away as a symptom of how busy Jedi generals were in general. Easy to do when the only ones to work consistently closely with them were the Commanders — and Rex, considering he filled the role for the 501st.

He’d considered telling Cody at the very least, if not General Kenobi himself, but he’d put it off. Every time he came across evidence that something was wrong, he’d brushed it off. At first with assurances that the general was just stressed. That he’d course correct on his own and all would go back to how it had been. When it worsened, Rex had asked his general directly, needing to know if whatever had happened would affect his performance — if it would put men’s lives in danger.

Anakin had looked him in the eyes that day and promised he had it handled.

Whatever “it” was.

Rex trusted his general with his life. With his brothers’ lives. So it hurt, a physical pain in his chest, to know his general didn’t trust him enough to let him help. For his general — his friend — he’d do anything, even if it got him decommissioned. Had already, to some extent.

“Captain,” a shiny said, prying his attention away from Skywalker and back to the bustle of setting up camp. “Commander Cody’s on the line for you.”

Rex nodded and shoved his bucket back on his head. He spared one last glance at his general before following the trooper back to the hastily put together command tent, wondering all the way there if this was a sign for him to speak up.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Anakin swallowed, mouth dry as the desert planet he’d been born on. The part of him that would always be nine and scared, then nineteen and mourning, found the offer compelling. Power to keep everyone safe: Padmé, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, Rex and his men. To have the galaxy fall in line so wars like this one never came about again. To break the chains keeping sentients fettered, abused and terrified. To do what he wanted without the constraints the Jedi imposed upon him and all their members. It appealed so well to that not-insignificant part of him that hated his own fear and weakness and the uncertainty of the future.

It scared him, how enticing the offer was and how tempted he was to forsake everything he knew and everything he’d been taught in exchange for that promise. All that held him back was the single, nagging feeling itching at the back of his skull. He probed at it, poking at what lay below the desire and fear until he found th rest of him — the parts the darkness didn’t call to so strongly.

The parts of him molded by the people he loved, nurtured by what he’d been taught at the Jedi’s feet, and built on the foundations his Mom had laid down for him in his childhood. The parts that whispered to him to be cautious. To be vigilant. To remember that nothing so golden, so perfect, came without a cost.

What was the price to be paid for the Chancellor’s offer?

What would he lose in exchange?

Everything, that tiny part of him whispered.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Obi-Wan smiled at Ahsoka as she skipped back towards her and Anakin’s troops, all of them nearly finished with the necessary preparations needed to leave this Force-forsaken planet. He watched the troops mingle, chatting and catching up as much as they could. Even his commander had loosened up in the afermath of a hard-won battle, leaned against a crate of supplies as he spoke with Rex.

The only person he hadn’t been able to find in the organized chaos had been his former padawan.

Anakin seemed to have disappeared entirely, not a trace of him anywhere which seemed odd to him. He turned toward Rex and Cody, intent on asking where he might find the wayward knight, only to slow and then stop altogether when he caught the tail end of their conversation.

“—know. But it’s … something.” Rex frowned, hands balled into tight fists at his side. Cody sighed.

“If he’s breaking regs,” Cody said archly, but didn’t finish the thought. Rex, in Obi-Wan’s humble opinion, looked rather much like he wanted to punch the other man.

“I’m not turning him in,” Rex hissed, low enough that Obi-Wan had to strain to hear him. “The general’s just … he’s in a bad way right now and I don’t know how to kriffing help if he won’t let me.”

Obi-Wan pressed his lips into a thin line, drawing back before he heard Cody’s response. He hadn’t known Anakin had been doing poorly, though in what capacity he wasn’t yet sure. He’d hardly spoken to Anakin at all the last few months, busy as they’d both been. Still, if the captain was so worried, enough to bring it to Cody, then. Well.

He made a mental note to himself to check in on his former padawan. He knew the 501st were due for leave soon, a quick resupply over Coruscant that would give Anakin and Ahsoka both time to visit the Temple. Perhaps after, he’d make the call, or better yet: find some time to get their two battalions together outside of battle.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

He breathed out, a single slow, measured breath, and set his jaw. When he looked at the Chancellor — at Sidious — his choice had been made. Sidious scowled even before Anakin spoke, wrinkled and severe and not a hint at all of the man he had trusted.

“No.” He brought his saber up into Djem So’s opening stance. “I am a Jedi, and I’ll do what I must.”

“So it’s treason, then,” Sidious sneered, pulling a lightsaber of his own from his robes. Anakin felt the last dregs of his hope drain when the blade lit, its blood-red light casting Sidious’ face into eerie relief as the lights in the room grew suddenly dim.

Anakin nodded once, a short, sharp jerk of his head. He breathed in, taking a brief moment to steel himself as the room’s tension and chill grew bloated and oppressive. For a moment neither of them moved. Coruscant itself seemed to freeze, from every sentient on-planet to its very rotation in space. And then, all at once, life exploded back into action.

Sidious leaped out from behind his desk at the same time Anakin surged forward. Their lightsabers scraped each other mid-air, the barest, buzzing touch as he kept that ominous, red blade from slicing at his shoulder. He spun quickly on his heel to meet Sidious’ offensive attack from behind. Their sabers clashed, properly locked and spitting as each of them tried to over-power the other.

He threw the entirety of his weight into every attack, pressing forward and pushing Sidious back. But nothing landed. Anakin growled, moving faster. Pushing. Pressing. But nothing. Fucking. Landed. Sidious whirled, inelegant but effective. Power bolstered by experience and skill. Every slash blocked. Every thrust parried. Every move economical and calculated and a near perfect counter to Anakin’s own aggressive style.

“You have such potential,” Sidious crooned at him, their sabers locked once again, the energy buzzing and crackling loudly in Anakin’s ears. “You could be so much more than you are, my boy.”

Anakin dug his heels in the carpet and pushed, shoving as much of the Force as he could into it even as the effort left his gasping for breath. Gasping, but victorious when it at least shut the Sith up and sent him sailing across the room if not into the wall like he’d wanted. He grinned at Sidious’ responding glower and merely adjusted his grip on his lightsaber with a shrug. Taunting Dooku’s master as much as he dared.

“Join me, Anakin,” Sidious said, unmoving from where he’d landed and looking somehow unbothered behind the anger radiating from him. “Join me and cease this foolishness.”

“Never,” he hissed, and leaped forward with help from the Force.

They clashed. Separated. Clashed again. Neither gained ground, even as Anakin found himself tiring, slowly but surely. He winced when a glancing blow caught his arm, searing and slicing a neat, shallow line from elbow to shoulder. Anakin managed a nastier slash at the Sith’s legs, and nearly laughed when he caught Sidious’ ankle as he leaped and watched him stagger on the landing.

Fury, thick and startling and like nothing Anakin had felt before even on the front lines, oozed from Sidious then. Anakin, sweating and exhausted, stilled. Tense and suddenly nervous. Something slick and malicious wrapped around his throat, and before he’d even registered that it was the Force — Sidious using the Force — it squeezed, cinched closed and cutting off his air.

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” Sidious said, sincerity dripping like poison from his words. “I had a plan, you see. A place for you at my side, and. Well, it might be earlier than I’d hoped, but I’m nothing if not accommodating. Don’t you agree?”

“Shut.” Anakin gagged, the invisble vice squeezing ever tighter as the seconds ticked past. “Up.” He fumbled for the Force as dark spots dotted his vision, but felt it slip through his fingers like sand. “Sith.”

Sidious hummed, paced calmly closer to Anakin like they had all the time in the world. And maybe they did. Those were clone troopers out front, and Anakin had paid a slicer more than enough credits in his attempts to gather evidence against Sidious for at least the vague confirmation that they, specifically, could be controlled. He had no doubts, now, that Sidious, among those involved in this conspiracy, could and would do just that.

The Force squeezed a fraction harder — any more and his neck would snap — before easing, just enough for him to gasp, coughing and spluttering as fresh air returned to his burning lungs. He fell to his hands and knees, blinking back tears and the graying haze that had crept into his vision. He barely noticed when Sidious stopped in front of him and bent to pick his lightsaber up off the ground where he didn’t remember dropping it.

“What a tragedy,” Sidious said, laying a withered hand on Anakin’s head like a child needing comfort. He would have tried to bite the old man’s fingers off if he hadn’t still been struggling to catch his breath, just enough pressure still on his throat to keep him from fully recovering. “The disappearance of Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, The Hero with no Fear who tried so hard to defend the Republic’s beloved Chancellor from the Separatist assassin, Ventress. Who took off in pursuit when she fled, without backup despite the Chancellor’s pleas — always a hothead, that one.”

“Shut up,” Anakin croaked, pain straining his voice. The hand in his hair tightened, not painfully. Not yet. A warning to keep silent — a warning to be ignored as soon as he could fucking breath again.

“What a shame,” Sidious continued, “how the young man was caught unawares.”

Anakin’s stomach dropped, fear like ice crawling through his veins as the meaning behind Sidious’ monologue finally started to register. He moved and the pressure on his throat worsened in response. He shouldn’t have come. The thought hit him like a blaster bolt to the chest.

He shouldn’t have come. He should have told someone. Should have tried harder to gather evidence against the Chancellor, even though he’d lost sleep over it for months — trying and failing and trying again only to come up empty-handed every time. Sdious was smart and his plan had been in motion probably for longer than Anakin had been alive.

Even if they’d never believe him, he should have told someone.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

“Padmé.” Anakin said her name like it was the sun itself and he a man without its light all his life.

She smiled, held his face between the palms of her hands, and pulled him down into one of the softest, gentlest kisses they’d shared since the war had started. He practically melted against her, boneless if not quite relaxed. She pulled back first, brow furrowed and lips pursed as she studied his face. He hadn’t looked great the last time they’d talked over a holo, but now he looked worse.

The bags under his eyes were deep, dark smudges that looked like bruises in the dim light of her apartment. He looked drawn, paler than a man on the front lines more often than not should be, with dry, chapped lips and a gauntness to him that might have been as much a trick of the light as the early signs that he’d not been eating well. His hands trembled against her waist, a fine tremor she felt through the thin nightdress he’d caught her in. She hadn’t expected him to come by, not so late at night and certainly not looking half-dead.

“Anakin, what’s wrong? Should I call a healer?” she asked, smoothing a thumb over his lips, his cheek, under his eye. He shook his head, turning so he could kiss her palm. He ran so warm normally that it scared her to feel him so cold. Like death, she thought and it sent a foreboding thrill down her spine.

“I love you,” he murmured against her skin, his bright, blue eyes never leaving hers. She’d have found it romantic if not for how much it scared her just then.

“You’re scaring me, Anakin. Please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“ ‘M sorry.” He lifted one hand told hold hers, the same one he’d kissed, and brushed his lips over her fingers. “I’m sorry,” he said again and Padmé thought she might cry from how wretched he sounded. “Don’t leave tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Don’t go to work. Stay here.” He didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

“Anakin, I can’t just— just skip. There’s an important bill we’re trying to pass and if I’m not there—” He squeezed her hand, not painfully but not gently either, and she snapped her mouth shut. “Anakin?” She moved to touch his face again, but he drew back. She gasped, a quiet, hurt noise pulled from her lips.

“Just tomorrow,” he said, sounding desperate. Scared. “Just tomorrow, please Angel. Please.” She swallowed, wide eyed and trembling now herself, but nodded.

“Alright. Alright, I promise, but only if you tell me what’s going on. Okay?” He hesitated, but acquiesced.

“After,” he said and she said nothing else before pulling him to bed by the hand.

He curled up beside her, pressed as close as physically possible with his head pressed to her breast as she kissed the top of his head and smoothed a hand through his unruly hair. She didn’t know how long they laid there, silent but awake before sleep claimed her. When she woke, he was gone and the place in her bed where he’d lain had gone cold. In his place were a note and a datastick.

I’m Sorry, the note read, written in his slanted, messy cursive. Padmé felt tears prick at her eyes, something thick and awful and nauseating curling in her stomach as she picked the datastick up and moved to plug it into the datapad she kept on her nightstand.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

He closed his eyes, let the pang of regret flow down and into him, then, finally, out. It came so suddenly easy, feeling what he needed before letting go, that he wanted to laugh. Wanted to cry. All his time as a Jedi he’d struggled, and he chose this moment to finally embrace — understand — what it was they’d been trying to teach him all along.

“Get to the point,” he said, trying to sound brave and not like he could fall apart at any second. The hand in his hair pulled, jerked his head up so he could look at those ugly, Sith eyes and Sidious’ grotesque grin. He’d spit if he could, but the Force tightened on his throat like Sidious had plucked the thought from his mind.

“The point,” the Sith hissed, “is that I will not waste the years I spent molding my perfect Apprentice.” Sidious crooned the word like it should mean more to Anakin. Like it shouldn’t make him sick to his stomach. “There is a place for you at my side, boy, whether you are there willingly or not.”

Sidious let him go, so suddenly he nearly fell on his face. Anakin blinked, confused as he pushed himself up, and caught the edge of that same, awful grin. Saw Sidious raise a hand, fingers splayed and pointing at him, and then nothing at all as he crackle of electricity and his own screaming filled the room.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Mace’s head throbbed, the same pounding pain that had lingered in his temples for months now. A shatterpoint, he knew, but any specific knowledge about it had remained firmly out of reach. Regardless of his headache — he’d had long years of practice managing it — he strolled into the Council’s Chambers, calm as a Jedi Master should be despite the urgency of the emergency meeting called. Problems, it seemed, just loved to pile up. First, an attack on the Chancellor in his own office the week before, then the disappearance of Knight Skywalker, and now whatever new event had cropped up.

He sighed, taking his seat among the mix of present Councilors. All of them, he was surprised to note, though most had called in via holo. Once he’d been seated, the room quieted and every eye turned to Master Yoda who’d called them together. The old troll’s face looked grim, his ears drooped as he all but hunched over his gimmer stick. Slick, icy dread slithered down Mace’s spine, knowing he wouldn’t like whatever the old Master had to say.

“Master Yoda?” Kenobi’s voice, mildly tinny over the holo, broke the silence when Master Yoda failed to speak up. The old Master seemed to wilt even further.

“Received a recording, we did, from Dooku.” Every Jedi in the room jerked, though none looked more than serenly alarmed at the news. “A datapad, he sent, early this morning. And another a gift.” Yoda’s voice wavered on the last word, just enough to be noticeable.

“May we see the device?” Plo Koon tipped his head to one side as he asked the question, a request made more for Yoda’s benefit than because any of them had any real need to see Dooku’s message for themselves.

Yoda shook his head and said: “With the investiators, it is. Work, they will, to see if a trick this is not. Deceiving us, Dooku may be.”

“Deceiving us?” Master Kolar leaned forward in his seat, a frown marring his features. Master Yoda nodded.

“Bring news, he does, of our missing knight.” Mace saw Kenobi jolt at the statement, wide-eyed. His fellow councilor had been devastated at the news of his former padawan’s disappearance. A few of the other Master’s spared Kenobi a sympathetic glance, before returning their attention to Master Yoda. “Claim, he does, that Knight Skywalker’s death his assassin, Ventress, is responsible for. Chased, he says she was, after thwarting an attempt on the Chancellor by young Skywalker she was.”

“Anakin,” Kenobi started, voice strangled. Mace frowned, rested his elbows on his knees, and steepled his fingers as he closed his eyes. “Anakin has fought Ventress many times, and come out unscathed before. To claim she killed him…” he trailed off.

“A gift, Dooku sent as well,” Yoda reminded.

The earlier chill in Mace’s spine solidified into a pit behind his stomach, a near physical weight as he said, low and pained: “Proof.”

The room was silent. Still. Their combined dread and anticipation thickened the air until it grew hard to breathe.

“Yes.”

Mace opened his eyes. He looked first to Obi-Wan, lips thinned but otherwise wearing a perfectly blank mask, and then to Master Yoda’s own grief-stricken face.

“His prosthetic and saber I have kept here to show you, but the rest. To the Healers for tests it has gone.”

“Healers?” Obi-Wan’s blank facade cracked. Mace was sure Obi-Wan’s face would have been pale as a sheet if not for the blue-tint of he holo-image projected onto his chair. Yoda said nothing for a long time, though Mace didn’t know if it was reluctance or grief that stalled him. “Master,” Obi-Wan whispered, and Mace felt sympathetic tears prick at his eyes for all the grief he could hear in that word alone. “Please.”

“Fingers,” Yoda said, grave and bland and disgusted. “Knight Skywalker’s, the Healers confirmed not long ago.”

Mace heard a few of the Masters’ gasp, and Obi-Wan’s own strangled, horrified noise, but Mace kept silent. Let his eyes slip closed once more, and bowed his head as a wave of bitter grief swept over him.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Anakin never woke for long, but when he did there were always two constants: pain and Sidious.

And hope. Always hope.

That Padmé had read what he’d left on the datastick — not enough but a start, and she’d always been so much smarter than him — and forgave him for the lie. For leaving.

Hope that Sidious would choke on his food and die, even if it meant Anakin rotted away in this cell.

Hope that the apologies he’d written to Ahsoka, Rex, and Obi-Wan made it to them, even if he hadn’t included half as much information in them as he had in his Angel’s.

And hope that maybe, one day, he might be saved. That Sidious’ attempt to deceive everyone would, at least this once, fail.

“How much longer will you remain disobedient, my Apprentice,” Sidious said as he slipped into the cell. Anakin closed his eyes for only a brief moment before turning a glare on his captor.

“Dunno,” he croaked, “how much longer ‘r you gonna live?”

Sidious hissed and repaid him with a blast of lightning in response.

Anakin screamed.

#whumptober2021 #no.5 #betrayal #star wars #anakin skywalker #sheev palpatine #fic #violence #implied torture #fake death #loss of limbs #my fanfic #the only limbs lost are fingers and it's only mentioned not shown

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 4 years

Text

Tightrope Fanfic

Title: Tightrope

Summary: Virgil feels lost. It’s not a foreign feeling, especially when one is the embodiment of Anxiety. But it feels like one as he stares down at a sniffling Roman in his arms. He doesn’t know what has happened. One moment, the others are having their spat about the wedding. The next, Roman barges into his room mid-breakdown and hasn’t left since.

Pairings: platonic prinixety

Word-Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Crying, Anger, Panic, Discussion of POF, Hurt/Comfort

This is a companion fic to Safety Net, but you don’t have to read that one to understand the context of this one <3

Virgil feels lost. It’s not a foreign feeling, especially when one is the embodiment of Anxiety. But it feels like one as he stares down at a sniffling Roman in his arms. He doesn’t know what has happened. One moment, the others are having their spat about the wedding. The next, Roman barges into his room mid-breakdown and hasn’t left since.

He keeps expecting the rug to be pulled out from under him. That perhaps this is some delayed April’s Fool joke. A ploy by Remus or one of the Others to fuck with him. His mind crafts a thousand possibilities, a thousand explanations for why this can’t be reality.

Because Virgil doesn’t know how to handle a Roman who fell from a great height and shattered completely. What if he cannot put the pieces back together again? What if he messes up and makes things worse? What if he’s the one to cause this in the first place?

No, he refuses to go down that spiraling thought pattern. Because if he unravels now, then he’ll be completely useless to Roman. He compartmentalizes the fear, stuffing it away to haunt him at a later date.

Roman’s cries have died down to a few hiccuping gasps of air. The ever-poised, ever-presentable Prince of Passion is anything but. He lays in Virgil’s arms, as limp and lifeless as a doll. His white princely jacket wrinkly and half-undone, red sash hanging loosely. Virgil cannot see his eyes from underneath his rumpled, messy hair but he’s willing to bet they’re bloodshot. Virgil bits his lips as he notes the dark ichor running down Roman’s cheeks like smeared mascara.

Roman has been in his room for far too long. Especially for someone who was already in a fragile emotional state upon showing up. Virgil shouldn’t have allowed him to stay. But he couldn’t find in himself to deny Roman, not when he’d looked at Virgil with a helpless terror in his eyes. So he had chosen instead to hold onto a sobbing Roman while trying to figure out what the hell happened.

The clock in his room is hardly reliable, but he’s certain at least an hour has passed and he’s still nowhere closer than he’d been at the start. Which is that it involves the stupid wedding, Patton and Deceit. The latter of which, apparently told them his actual name. He won’t know more unless Roman divulges more. And in the swirling storm of hysteria that is his room, the chances of that happening is slim.

Before he can let doubt rake its claws into him, he pulls Roman closer to his chest and syncs out. Roman realizes a moment too late what’s happening. He lets out a startled gasp, tries pushing away, but it’s too late. With a loud crackle, they appear in the gloomy fog of a dead forest.

Roman looks around, eyebrows bunched up together. If this was any other situation, Virgil might’ve smirked.

“It’s the imagination,” Virgil says, answering the question behind Roman’s bewildered gaze, “Or at least my little pocket of it. No one will find us here.”

Well maybe except Remus, the one responsible for its creation. Virgil is hoping that today will not be the day he decides to return here for the first time in years.

Roman opens his mouth to speak, yet hesitates halfway through. He turns his head away from Virgil, shrugging. Virgil’s cold dead heart plummets at this. Roman isn’t supposed to be this defeated. He’s supposed to be stubborn, obstinate, argumentative. Virgil knows how to handle that. He knows how to bait Roman into banter, to get him to admit the root of his problems. But this? He doesn’t know how to deal with a Roman this apathetic. And that scares him.

Virgil should apologize, he thinks. After everything that happened, he hunkered down in his room. He stayed away thinking his presence would only be detrimental than beneficial. He was Anxiety after all, flight or fight. In this case, he chose flight. But obviously, like everything else in his existence, that’d been the wrong choice yet again.

He inhales deeply, his breath hitching at the last moment, the words refusing to come out. They remain stuck in clumps inside his throat, refusing to solidify into verbal spoken words. The ghostly howl of the wind is the only sound between the two.

Then Roman laughs. It sounds more like a cat hacking up a hairball than his usual melodious chuckles. It’s loud, harsh and absolutely dripping with pain. Halfway through he ends up in a coughing fit. Virgil watches, unsure how to respond.

“You were right.” Roman croaks at last, sagging heavily against a tree.

Those words aren't what Virgil likes to hear. It’s never good when he, Anxiety, is right. He’d much prefer to be proven wrong. Even if that meant Roman lording it over his head for weeks on end. It’s annoying as hell and he never thought he’d miss that until now.

Virgil swallows, pushing the sudden ache in his chest aside. He doesn’t need confirmation to know what he was right about.

Still, his heart thudding heavily in his chest, he asks anyways, “About Janus?”

Roman nods, grimacing.

“Ro, what happened?” Virgil asks, unable to hold that question within himself any longer.

The fanciful side doesn’t respond at first. His hand traces the grooves of the bark on the tree he’s leaned against. His lips twist and contort, as if fighting to find the words to say. Virgil isn’t sure if he’s ever seen Roman ever at a loss for words until now.

“I thought it was a villainous trick at first. Just another ploy to get us to trust him. I made fun of it, even. It wasn’t until the way you reacted when I mentioned it to you that I thought otherwise,” Roman says, breaking in mid-conscious thought. Something that is very Roman-like, forgetting other people can’t read his mind. There must be something in Virgil’s face because he clarifies, “Deceit’s name I mean.”

“I mean, I don’t blame you,” Virgil says slowly, toying with his hoodie strings, “He never told any of the Others.”

“But he told you?”

Now it’s Virgil’s turn to stare at the ground. The ache in his chest returns, except it’s different. It’s like a fire-pit at a summer camp-out. It’s warm and comfortable to linger next to, but stay too long and you’ll be sweltering in the unbearable suffocating heat. The same goes for thinking about the past. That’s why he hates getting nostalgic. It’s hard to reminisce about the good times without remembering why they ended.

The old him that hasn’t been extinguished yet, the one that called himself Janus’ friend, is indignant that Roman apparently made fun of Janus’ name. However the newer him that calls himself Virgil and wears the purple hoodie, isn’t. Good, he thinks, he deserves it. And he isn’t too ashamed of feeling that way. Not after the raging forest fire that burnt down their friendship in the first place.

“Yeah.” Virgil breaths out with stifled lungs. He can feel Roman’s eyes burning a hole in his head. He thinks he’d find an unspoken question in them if he looks up. He doesn’t elaborate. He isn’t in the mood for scorching his tongue on the ashes of a cremated friendship. Especially when it’d shift the focus onto him and not Roman. Something he’s certain Roman wants despite it being so rare for him to flinch away from the spotlight.

For all their vast, stark differences, they aren’t really that different when it comes down to several things, one being that neither of them like showing weakness. They are also incredibly stubborn. It just so happens Virgil has the stronger resolve at this moment.

“I trusted him,” Roman says, continuing where he’d left off, “I trusted him, I thought he’d knew best and I just wanted--”

A huff cuts off Roman’s words as he flings his arms towards the sky. He paces in front of Virgil, muttering bits and pieces too quick for him to understand. Perhaps he does need to share a little. Just to help Roman know and understand he isn’t alone.

“Listen, I get it,” Virgil says, “I also trusted Janus once too--”

“No, it wasn’t Janus--well, yes, but--” Roman yanks at his hair, “I meant Patton!”

Patton? Virgil feels as if he'd been riding on the flying magic rug from Aladdin. Only the magic rug has been ripped from underneath him and now he’s freefalling into a waterfall full of sharp pointy rocks at the bottom.

He’d thought he knew where this conversation was heading except now he’s lost more than ever before. He needs a minute to breathe, to process what’s happening. Roman doesn’t give him that. He pushes on, shaking his head like a riled-up mistreated stallion from a horse girl movie.

“I wanted to do what was right for Thomas and--and Patton has always known what’s right, right?”

He gazes desperately at Virgil, searching for reassurance, for affirmation. Virgil’s heart sinks. He can't honestly give that to Roman, though he'd love to give Roman whatever his heart desires to stop his pain.

Patton tries his best, he really does. But even he is wrong sometimes. He has made mistakes, ones that have hurt Virgil himself both past and present. And although Virgil has forgiven him, it doesn’t change the fact that even their softest puffball isn’t always right.

He can tell Roman realizes that by the way his scowl grows bigger.

“Am I too dimwitted?” Roman growls, “Was I the only one foolish enough to believe that? Just like believing that I could truly be--be--”

He lets out a tormented scream, slumping down against a tree. Head bowed, knees drawn close, arms pulled tightly around himself. Virgil stands a few feet away, still so far from understanding as he was when Roman first appeared in his room. Only that apparently he needed to kick both Janus’ and Patton’s collective asses.

Virgil withholds a sigh as he crouches down next to Roman.

A gloomy fog hardly provides the best lighting. It’s better than the dark murkiness of his room, however, and it’s here that he notices something. A blueish-purple splotch of something. Just barely poking out of Roman’s collar. It’s then, Virgil remembers that a metaphoric “bruised ego” is anything but metaphoric for one metaphysical entity such as Roman, Creativity and Ego in one.

“Princey,” Virgil says, his voice unusually level, “did you get hurt by what happened earlier?”

Roman doesn’t answer his question. Not directly at least. “Lee and Mary Lee hardly spoke to Thomas at the wedding, did you know that?”

“Yeah,” Virgil bites his lips, “I knew that.”

It’s a rhetorical question. Of course Virgil knows--he’s a part of Thomas. He’d been with Thomas during the wedding. The leg bouncing up and down in an anxious jitter. Directing the eyes away from the merriment of the wedding and towards that pointless moronic mobile game. The clenching feeling in Thomas’ throat during the brief interaction with Lee and Mary Lee. He hadn’t even been able to say hello because of Virgil.

He’d tried so hard to hold back, to not torment Thomas with his decision anymore than his host had already endured. It didn’t really matter in the end. As Thomas finally slipped away from the wedding, so had Virgil slipped into his room. He ignored the muffled noises of the debate erupting outside the mindscape. Why show his face when Thomas already knew what his input would be? Or knowing what he’d once been, for that matter? Or at least, that had been his justifications at the time.

“Which hardly seems fair! After what I--Thomas sacrificed to be there for them. B-but it’d been the right decision, right?” Roman laughs, shaking his head. He doesn’t wait for an answer as he pushes on, “Was it too selfish to expect more? To think that making the right decision would result in an award?”

Virgil stays silent. Morality isn’t his forte; sure as Anxiety he often cautioned Thomas to follow societal rules. It’s often easier to go with the current rather than fight against it. So he’s hardly the most reliable source of it.

And as for his role, both the wedding and the call-back offered the same amount of dread. After all, he’s Anxiety. It’s literally his job to nitpick and point out every single thing a situation could go wrong, no matter how improbable or absurd. Unlike Roman, he’d be lying if he said he was surprised by the outcome of the wedding. It’s not far off from what he had predicted.

On the flipside, he could offer a million ways of how the audition could’ve ended poorly. A tear in Thomas’ pants mid-audition. Thomas blanking out on a crucial line. A meteor falling from the atmosphere and effectively crushing Thomas to death. Okay, that last one is highly improbable but it could still happen! You never know!

Regardless, he doubted any of that is what Roman needed to hear.

“I trusted him. He’d said it’d been the right decision when I made it. And I believed him.” Roman scoffs.

Virgil frowns, cautiously sitting a few feet away from Roman. He chooses not to look him in the eye, treating him as if he’s an easily-startled wild creature.

“Y’know, he and I are going through a bit of a rough patch. He’s trying his best, I know he is. But take it from me--sometimes someone’s best isn’t always good enough. And I think it’s okay if it...takes time for you to forgive Patton.”

“No!”

“No?”

“I mean,” Roman lets out a frustrated scream, “I don’t know! Before, there was a script, a stage, parts to play. Ones I had intimately memorized! But it’s as if it’s before the curtain rises before the opening show and the director has thrown out the script completely. He expects me after years of practice to perform something I’ve never seen--that even he has no concept of what it looks like and h-how is any actor expected to perform in such conditions?”

A light-bulb finally goes off in Virgil’s head.

“You’re...angry at Thomas, aren’t you?”

Roman flinches as he’d been struck, throwing his body backwards harshly against the tree. He looks hardly affected by it as he scrambles quickly to his feet.

“Wh-what? No! That’s absurd!” Roman protests, “I’m not angry at Thomas--”

“But you are,” Virgil interrupts, rising to his feet, “You’re angry at both Patton and Janus, yeah, but they’re just targets to throw your misplaced anger at. Because you don’t want to admit it’s actually Thomas--”

“Yes, because you’re wrong, Mary Mary Q-quite Misconstrued!” Roman puffs up his chest, trying to keep his head high, “I--I’d never, I can’t hate Thomas--”

“Whoa, I didn’t say you hated him,” Virgil says, gently tugging Roman’s hands into his own, “there’s a difference between being mad at someone for something, and hating them.”

Roman looks at him with almost a wild gaze to his eyes, so close to almost hyperventilating. Virgil can almost see the invisible cracks in Roman’s skin, his multitude of facades peeling away before Virgil’s eyes. He looks at Roman and sees himself.

“I used to think they were the same thing,” Virgil begins, “But they’re not. Hate is when you abhor ill will towards someone, when you wish them dead or worse. Anger...anger is just a form of fear. And it’s okay to feel and experience that anger, you don’t have to repress it.”

“I’m not scared of Thomas,” Roman scoffs, his gaze drawn to the forest floor rather than Virgil.

“But you are afraid that if Thomas can accept Janus and possibly Remus, then he could just as easily change his mind regarding you, right?” Virgil questions, “You’re afraid because all you've ever done has been in Thomas’ best interest and suddenly now you’re being told all it’s done is hurt him. You’re afraid but you don’t want to admit it, so you turn to anger instead because that’s better than being scared, right?”

“I’m not…” Roman trails off, clenching his jaw. Virgil is fully expecting to get punched by the way his body tenses up. Roman does lunge towards him just then, arms flailing out. Virgil doesn’t even have a chance to raise his arms up in defense before he gets an armful of blubbering prince once more.

“I’m supposed to be Thomas’ hero, he told me I was, but what if I’m not? W-what if I never was? And--and I have to be good, Virgil, I can’t be evil--”

Roman lets it all go then. It’s a tidal wave of anxiety and fears, of self-doubt and self-deprecation. Almost any other person would become overwhelmed by how much perturbation Roman’s kept hidden all these years. But Virgil is Anxiety, his realm is terror and trepidation. He’s experienced every fear-induced thought and more under the sun. He understands it better than perhaps anyone else ever could.

He knows Roman will most likely clam up after today. That later on, they’ll need to address these things in detail and take care of the bruises mottling his skin. Roman will need encouragement to rebuild his confidence and to turn away from self-destructive habits. Both of which are things that Virgil struggles with all too well. He knows it to feel as impossible as walking across a tightrope blindfolded. Right now, however, all Roman needs is for someone to listen.

And so listen Virgil does.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinixety #kat writes

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knightofameris · 4 years

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matcha strawberry latte — miya osamu

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛: Neutral 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜: some curse words?, Suna being sneaky, possibly ooc??? I’m still getting the hang of writing inarizaki, use of a “fake name” (prompt idea was that reader uses a different name when ordering their boba) 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1.6𝚔

𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍: matcha strawberry latte 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 an ameris’ special 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔!

⇽ 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 ◜𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚜' 𝚋𝚘𝚋𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚙 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚞◞

“Matcha strawberry latte with grass jelly for Rei!” Osamu called out your fake name, placing your drink right on the counter. You went ahead of others waiting around to grab your drink, the tall, aesthetically pleasing drink sat on the counter with colors flowing from green to white to red, bits of black floating around. Still holding the cup was the cute bobarista who stared at you as you smiled at him, grabbing a boba straw and the cup.

“Thank you,” you say to him and he gives you a quick nod before returning to work. You could have sworn there was a slight smile on his usually emotionless face, as far as you could tell anyway. Though, there were moments that he did have a rather expressive face when it came to his twin.

Osamu grabbed an empty cup and stared down at the sticker placed on it with the boba drink he needed to make next. He tried to ignore the stare drilled into the back of his head. He really did (he didn’t).

“What do you want, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu spat at his twin without turning his head.

“Oh, nothing,” Atsumu replied, placing a scoop of boba into the drinks he was preparing. Osamu turned his head slightly to shoot his brother a glare before going back to work. “Okay, it’s just-” Osamu sighed “-you’ve been staring at them every time they come in. Oh and you also make sure they get their drink before you continue working. It’s just getting a little annoying because they are pretty cute and if you’re not gonna snatch Rei up, I will.”

Red obstructed his vision as Osamu’s entire body stiffened. He really really wanted to grab the ladle of boba and throw it at his broth-

“Stop it.”

Chills ran through the twins’ spines when they heard Kita’s voice scold the two of them. They immediately zipped their mouths and continued to work in silence as their shop hummed with customers and shouts of orders. Suna gave them a side eye, amusement sparkling in his eyes as he continued taking orders from customers; the amusement quickly fading away as he realized they were still in the midst of rush hour.

Damn college kids.

***

“You always get the same drink, ‘Rei’,” Oikawa observed, sipping on his Okinawa milk tea. There’s a joke somewhere in there but you were too lazy to make it.

“Why don’t you just use your real name?” Iwaizumi set his boba down on the table, leaning back in the chair as they all sat outside the boba shop. “They should figure it out, considering you go there almost everyday.”

You let out a sigh before taking another sip from the drink. “The guy in the front always gets your guys’ names wrong. And no matter where I go, apparently my name is too hard to spell.” You recall the first time you ordered from the same cashier with the garlic-looking hair. You had used your regular name, but somehow butchered it to “David.” Don’t ask me, even I don’t know. Did you even look like a “David”?

Matsukawa snorts, “I think it’s a miracle he gets ‘Rei’ right when he can’t even get Hanamaki’s when he uses Makki.”

Hanamaki glances down at his drink, not even realizing that the name was spelled wrong. Again. He frowned, muttering something under his breath before going ahead to take another sip from his drink.

“Also, at least I know when my order is ready and I don’t do that ‘is it my order? Oh shit no it’s someone else’s’ that you idiots do.” You casually sip from your straw, giving all the boys a knowing glance but mainly Oikawa.

“It was one time! I took someone else’s drink once!” Oikawa cried, laying his head against the table. You laughed, everyone else joining in on bagging on Oikawa.

This went on for some time before Matsukawa spoke up, “Hey, why are we just sitting here?” He glances up towards the obscure boba shop sign. It wasn’t legible from this perspective, but the little ‘a’ in the beginning was obvious.

“Because,” Oikawa starts off, even adding your name with the chan honorific, “wants to see that one guy, the gray haired twin.” Oikawa said it as if it was obvious. You glared at the man, trying to push down the rush of heat that you felt on your cheeks.

“Wha-! I don’t-! I-!” You sputter out, trying to come up with an excuse that you weren’t trying to wait to see the one cute bobarista.You weren’t even sure if he’d be done with his shift because if you knew that, that’d be creepy... God I hope you don’t know his schedule.

“Stop teasing them, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi defended, whacking him on the back of his head. He gave you a knowing look, understanding how it feels to be under Oikawa’s scrutiny. Honestly, it was terrifying how well Oikawa would know you and the others at times. Though there were definitely moments he’d just say something off the rails.

Unbeknownst to the five of you, it was the end of the gray haired twin’s shift. Well his and two others; his other twin and the one that would purposely screw up names.

“Hmm, isn’t that them?” Suna questions, eyeing you just outside the shop with the other friends you always came in with.

“It is, so ‘Samu, are you going to-”

“Shut it, I’ll talk to them. Rei, right?” Osamu takes a deep breath. He’d never do this kind of thing to be honest. But for some reason the thought of Atsumu snatching you up before he could? It didn’t sit well with him.

You were always really sweet, and from what Suna said, you tipped well. You were even super patient that one time Atsumu screwed up your drink and ended up keeping said drink anyways, not wanting to bother them during a busy time. It wasn’t busy. So even if it all went wrong, Osamu’s sure that you wouldn’t make fun of him.

“Yup,” Atsumu pops the ‘p’ loudly. Suna knew though, he knew what your name was but honestly? He kinda wanted to see what was going to happen next. Plus, effort.

With that being said, Osamu approached you as you laughed with your friends and called out what he thought was your name. The two friends, the one with messy black hair and strawberry hair, raise their brows at him. Then there’s a knowing look and for some reason he wants to back out but he’s already this far, right?

He tries calling out your fake name again. The other two guys look over and the lighter brown haired one slowly smirks. For some reason, Osamu wanted to punch that smug smirk off his face.

“Sorry, there’s no Rei here,” the smug brain haired one said. And Osamu feels like his gut’s been punched. Were your friends just covering for you because you thought he was a creep or something or-”

“What the fuck are you talking about Oikawa?” You glare at him, the back of your head moving as you turn your head towards your friends, confused where they were staring at. “What are you guys even looking at-oh.”

Osamu stares down at you, his face calm and lacking any emotion in contrast to what he was feeling inside. Regret? Shame? Argh, fuck, he had nothing to lose he already embarrased himself this much. He could already hear Atsumu laughing his ass off in his head.

“Your name’s Rei, right?” He asked you, trying to stare at only you and not your friends.

“Oh, uh, no, sorry.” And for a second he thinks you might have a twin until you introduce yourself. “I just use Rei as a placeholder name. For drinks and stuff.” You explain, slightly embarrassed for him but also a little stunned that he was off of work and talking to you.

There’s silence between the two of you and you know that Oikawa and the others just want to scream at how awkward this is. That is, until a voice yells out.

“Ask them out or I will ya dumbass!”

“Shut up!” Osamu calls back, turning his head to face his other twin and Suna. He turns his head back and suddenly you’re standing up and your friends are nowhere to be found. “I... Sorry, I didn’t have a plan for this.”

You shake your head, “No, it’s alright, I understand what it’s like to have idiot friends. Or brother in your case.” You laugh and Osamu could swear he could listen to you laugh for hours.

“So, not Rei, huh. Could’ve used a pick up line about you being the only Rei of sunshine in my life.”

You stare at him before rolling your eyes, laughing once more at how stupid that was and Osamu’s satisfied that he was able to make you laugh just now. He’d really like to do it again.

“That was terrible.”

“I got more up my sleeve if you want to go out sometime, maybe get some boba?” Osamu asked, rubbing the back of his neck and you pretend to contemplate. That is, until you pull out your phone to give to him.

“I’d like that.” He hands you back your phone and you send him a quick text that this was your number; he feels the vibration in his pocket.

“Great,” he smiles. You really want to see him smile more. Even if he has the same face as his twin, who seems to always be wearing some type of smile, it was a little different when Osamu smiled.

“I’ll text you the details then.”

𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚢, 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗!

#miya osamu x reader #osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #miya osamu x male!reader #miya osamu x neutral!reader #miya osamu x y/n #miya osamu x you #neutral!reader #male!reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #a.bobashop #a.writes #💜.osamu

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nhi-theuserof-this · 4 years

Text

TW/CW: Depictions of blood, gore, broken body parts, corpses, explosions, swearing, unnatural body movements (some are very graphically said)

This is a graphic edition of my most recent oneshot, the link provided leads to the censored/vague edition

Link here

https://nhi-theuserof-this.tumblr.com/post/638464385946451968/i-read-this-one-ao3-fanfiction-and-now-i-want-to

—

The festival was the first.. ...known.. occasion of that thing.

Nobody wanted to think that Technoblade and the thing were the same, if they were in fact the same being, well, nobody wanted to think about that.

It was in the middle of Schlatt screaming at Technoblade that it appeared. Technoblade was gripping his head tightly and shaking it at nothing in particular. “Are you even listening?” Schlatt had shouted at him. It snapped an invisible string as Technoblade whimpered and stood still, eyes fluttering closed as he passed out while standing, but it wasn’t like anyone could tell as he was outright shaking at the moment.

The crowd went silent and so did everyone on the stage. Techno That thing, it opened Technoblades eyes to show they had turned fully blue, a light blue that could pass as white in the right lighting. It jerked Technoblade into an upright position as his body swayed. It was as if a doll was being pulled into multiple directions at once, before settling on taking a step towards Tubbo.

Jschlatt had thought Technoblade had given in and shouted encouragement as he never noticed Technoblades empty blue eyes. It jerked Technoblades hands onto the crossbow at his side taking it up in both its hands, fumbling to put a rocket inside. Technoblades mouth fell open as hundereds-thousands of whispers fell out of at a million miles a minute, a loud one, that spoke above the volumes of all the other voices, “We’re sorry Tubbo” It said, voice similar to the sound that came from nails scratching at a chalkboard. “Let’s make this as colorful and painless as possible.”

It pointed the crossbow currently named ‘Subscribe to Technoblade’ in between Tubbo’s eyes, finger hovering over the trigger as Technoblades mouth was pressed into a grin as the rocket released, enchantments morphing the rocket into three that of which went into seperate directions, exploding into many colors as Technoblade was moved to reload and shoot once again, this time resulting in the death of everyone on the stage aside from himself.

All three of the people that had died left behind rapidly decaying corpses that implicated so.

His body was turned around with stiff, jerky movements, face being in an emotionless grin as the weapon in his hands had more ammunition available for use. Jshlatt had died twice, somehow, and almost every participant of the festival had died as well that day.

He was back to normal at some point after he got back to Pogtopia. Sitting still as a stone beside his potato farm, staring at his reflection as if it wasn’t his own. He quietly mumbled apologies to no one in sight and was rapidly switching from topic to topic, quietly explaining things to himself while telling an invisible something to shut up.

Tommy had angrily stomped up to Technoblade when he got back. Shouting ar him about killing Tubbo, betraying him, practically disowning him at one point, something else. It became distorted and turned to white noise quickly as Wilbur dragged the two towards a pit he made, encouragingly pushing the two towards the enterance while babbling on about beating eachother.

Somewhere in between those events, Technoblade lost control of his movements, but still consious and aware of what was happening. Technoblade was hollow in that very moment, so very hollow he didn’t realize the voices forced their way out of his mouth as Tommy live there bloody on the ground.

“Violence is the only universal language.” The voices had screamed through Technoblade, so scratchy and disgusting sounding that Tommy didn’t know if Techno actually said that as what he said after was suddenly back in his own monotone as ever voice.

Tommy had learnt not to shout at Technoblade for hours on end after what happened.

The server learned to be wary of Technoblade at all times if they weren’t already.

Sometimes Technoblade could spend a week without a single one of the voices speaking, other times though.. ...it was a blessing just to be able to go about his day without hurting himself whether on purpose or not.

The voices were very loud today. The second Technoblade could register noise his mind was flooded with screams and shouts of ‘late’ and ‘anarchy’ along with the other regular things but this time ther were hundereds of other extra voices shouting along, screaming for him to do violent things, to draw blood and kill something. Unluckily for Technoblade, the cow pit only needed breeding right now.

Technoblade left his base with fresh bandages wrapped around his body. He’ll need to get new bandages for the next time this happens.

It was through the voices screaming at him to run, that he learned that everyone had them, Technoblade didn’t know he was about to be attacked until the voices sceamed as an arrow made its way into his leg in between the gaps in his armor. It was just that he was the only one that could actually hear them. The next time the voices said something he didn’t know about was as Wilbur stepped down from the podium. Technoblade had seen no evidence of Phil even being invited to the server, but the voices screamed about him in the minutes that led up to his joining the server notification appeared in chat.

Everyone spoke over Technoblade as he attempted to make his first speach. Technoblade honestly expected this, but chat was pissed they’d never hear it, it had taken his body momentarily and created the base of the two withers. Technoblade turned back to continue speaking after being let go, but most of the people that could see him flinched, chat left his eyes tinted blue, an after affect that stuck around if Technoblade was only partially taken over for a short time.

The events of that day had left some people thoroughly traumatized, the reason? It was surprisingly not because of Technoblade alone. Technoblade never took note of that though, opting to hang out with Phil for a while, letting the man crash at his base until he could get himself set up.

He was teetering between telling Phil about the voices, confessing and explaining why he’s become so violent so suddenly at times, or keeping it to himself for the time being. He chose the later. It unfortunately didn’t stop Phil from seeing the tinted red bandages, even though he could’ve swore technoblade had just changed them.

“Are you okay Techno?”

And the voices grew soft. They pushed Techno to say yes and dismiss Phil, though that was only some of them, others told him to be honest. And that’s what he did.

Techno had broken down, he cried and cried, he confessed to Phil that he had never gotten this bad nearly as often before, that he had hurt himself enough to cause an emergency stash be put in place. Phil remembers how small and fragile Techno was when he first found him, but nothing could compare to what Technoblade was like right now, curling in on himself, cursing his own existence as if he were worth less than the dirt in the ground, crying in shame at how he is able to mercilessly cut down so many people without pause.

Phil gained a better understanding of why Technoblade was more comfortable in a friendly relationship rather than a family type of relationship that evening, as he held his shaking friend in his arms.

The butchers had invaded Philzas home in search of Technoblade. This was something he had learnt through both the voices and the butchers. The voices liked when he cracked jokes so Technoblade rated his kidnapping a two, it made the voices laugh, nobody else did, only the voices.

Technoblade was scared they’d hurt something or someone close to him like Phil, so he shut up and played along after Carl got held hostage, hoping he’d get a chance to free himself and take Carl home.

He was now in a cage, supposedly about to have a trial, but it was likely to be rigged. The voices suddenly started screaming, causing Technoblade to flinch in a visible manner. Nobody knew what he flinched at besides himself, but that didn’t matter right now as someone tried busting him out. Technoblade didn’t know who, he was busy taking a totem of undying into his hands, shakily hoping it wouldn’t come to that, but he learnt that the voices were commonly right.

The voices proved true once again. Quackity was pissed at what was happening, so much in fact, he disregarded the entire trial as he yanked the lever activating the mechanism that’d drop an anvil onto him in order to crush his skull.

As Technoblade took in a sharp breath as the anvil came in contact with his body, he was suddenly crushed, sickeningly loud crack sounding out as everyone turned to look at him. The totem slipped out of his hand when he was crushed sliding off the small stage with a clank, before it exploded into a burst of green and white particles, making him phase through the anvil as he shakily stood while the crushed bone slowly reformed, muscle and skin following. Most people looked away as others cringed at the disgusting noises.

When heit looked up, everyone started shouting. That thing wasn’t supposed to come out, Technoblade wasn’t even supposed to survive the initial anvil drop.

Technoblades body ran, and so did everyone else, wether the same direction or not.

“You’re on the fucking hitlist Technoblade!” Quackity screamed in rage.

The thing turned around, mouth falling open as hundreds of different voices came out at once. Quackity stepped back, the voices too much to register, him barely picking some of them up.

‘QUACKITY WHAT’ ‘BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD’ ‘CARL’ ‘Lead in pile!’ ‘Kill!!’

The voices suddenly went dull as Technoblades body went slack, before getting into a fighting stance unusual for him. ‘It’s u s Qua.kity, ch-At.’

Quackity raised his axe before Technoblades body launched forwards before raising Technoblades pickaxe. ‘We have a pickaxe,’ it grinned, ‘and we’ll put it through your teeth.’

Quackity hadn’t realized how horrible the thing was until now, until the body of Technoblade loomed above him, scratch that- the body of chat, that hovered over him with a manic grin, bringing the pickaxe down into his jaw, yanking harshly as Quackity let out a blood curtling scream as char pulled it out and brought it down into his skull, killing him with a final blow.

Quackity was slain by Technoblade

#chat possession au #mcyt #dream smp #mcyt fanart #mcytau #tommyinnit #Wilbur soot #Wilbur mcyt #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt fic #mcyt fandom #quackity #tw violence #nhiwrotehere

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