#I wrote this last night enjoy my sleep deprived angst | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ilys00ga · 10 months ago

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𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀, 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗻𝗮𝗶𝗹𝘀.

➞ pair: yoongi x reader.

➞ genre: hurt/comfort (why do I keep making these lmao), established relationships, I'm so bad at tagging sorry.

➞ warnings: angst and fluff cuz we all need that (we really do). reader has anxiety and abandonment issues, yoongi is trying his best for the sake of both of them, just relationship things.

➞ A/N: requested by @parkjennykim, this was very fun to write! thanks for yet another idea <3 I hope u like it. I'm organizing this blog/post (?) while listening to mono, and let me tell yall, it's such a vibe omg. I think you should read this while listening to that album, I love it sm, I can't even begin to explain UGH- if namjoon ever goes on a world tour, he better perform every single song in that album, cuz imma be losing my mind in the crowd, esp during moonchild. my vocal cords are already getting sore. yeah. if u want this to hit that spot, maybe u should do what I said (this is a friendly order, if u will). if not, just enjoy and pls ignore any mistakes, english has been challenging me recently (for the last 10 years lmao)

ps. I am in a dire need of a yoongi in my life. specifically the one I wrote in this one. oh how I love being a lonely fanfic writer <33

★ MASTERLIST.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

God knows how long it had been after it hit midnight when Yoongi stood in the kitchen. His eyes were red and heavy with drowsiness, but he couldn't sleep that night.

How does one sleep through a restless, biting night?

Surely not with a bad headache, or overflowing thoughts, and especially not with guilt chewing on his core.

He gulped, throat begging to be quenched as it held onto a slight, delicious, yet bothersome burning sensation. He opened the fridge and filled a glass with some water, raising it to his lips when loud a cry of his name, followed with a thud and a number of sobs, disturbed the quiet of the night and made him jump, startled.

His limbs froze in their place, glass almost slipping his hand and crashing on the floor when his sleep deprived brain realized that the muffled cries were yours.

Wide awake, he dashed after the sound. Thirst and sleep no longer occupied his mind, all he could think of was holding you in his arms.

He found you on the stairs, trembling as you wailed into your hands.

He hated it so much: seeing you in pain. He wanted nothing more than to shield you from the rainfall of your gloomy sky, from his own rainfall, from the world. How could one be an umbrella and the rain at once?

He blinked, once, twice, then gulped and heaved a deep, tired breath.

One storm doesn’t require another storm to be calmed down, that he knew. One needs to be composed and collected to stand still during a storm, that he knew as well.

With worried eyes, he gently called out your name and walked up to you, “darling, what’s wrong?”

You looked up as soon as you heard his worried voice, some tiny sense of relief washed over you when you saw him right there. A hundred daggers digged so deep into his heart and bones, aching, the moment a broken whimper of his name fell from your lips.

Without a second thought, Yoongi hugged your face to his chest. One of his hands was patting your back and the other affectionately caressed your head.

As he listened to his name that never left your lips, Yoongi held you there on the cold of the stairs with nothing but sweet nothings whispered back to your ears.

Everything he did and said was so gentle and soft, like he was so afraid you'd crack and come to tiny bits and pieces at any given moment. It all made you want to cry even harder, to hold him so tight and never let go.

Soon, when your tears started winding down, pulled away and cradled your face with his hands, palms faintly pressing on your cheeks as if he hoped to share their warmth with you.

Tender eyes met your wet ones and stared as their owner’s voice made its way through the noise of your sniffles and hiccups. He said, “It’s alright. I'm here. Talk to me, hmm?”

You answered his plea with a small nod, before wiping your tear stained skin and hugging him again. He smelt like home. You took a deep breath, greedily feeding your lungs with his lovely scent.

He hugged you back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your body closer to his. He pressed light kisses on your temple, patiently waiting for you to talk.

“I had a really scary nightmare. so, so scary- I woke up, didn’t find you there- then…then I remembered the fight we had earlier. I…I thought I lost you- I'm sorry. sorry for the stupid things I said earlier. I love you so much! please don’t leave. please..”

Your voice quivered with fresh tears ready to be spilled again. Yoongi started hushing you as soon as he noticed that you were working yourself up.

Squeezing you in his arms, he whispered “I never left, and I never will.”

“I’m all right, nothing happened to me, see?” he leaned away just enough to allow you to take a quick look at his body, then added, “a stupid fight is not going to make me leave. I love you way too much for that, and I'm sorry for hurting you too.”

He could still read fear and uncertainty all over your face, and he didn't like that. He knew that you trusted him, and he didn't doubt your love for him.

At first, he didn't get it. He didn't understand the insecurities, the anxiety and the nightmares you suffered from especially after the inevitably worst of arguments that happened between you and him. But after longer and deeper talks, with you expressing your feelings and him listening with careful ears, it made much more sense to him.

Sometimes he hated himself for triggering your alarms and making it harder for you, but he knew it was neither his fault nor was it yours.

Growth and pain are two key elements that come arm in arm with love, and fights are an unpreventable part of any kind of relationship. For all that, he always ended up blaming himself for making you question your worth to him when he can't even sleep without you happily cuddling his side.

Softly, lovingly, he started prepping tender kisses over your cheeks, nose, forehead, chin, temples, all over your flushed face.

It worked like watching waving fields of green wheat dancing with the wind, your storm started to slowly die down and your heart felt at ease again. slowly, but definitely.

Smiling ever so affectionately, Yoongi sealed his reassurance with a loving kiss that consumed you whole, and it left the corners of your mouth curving up in a dazzling smile. You nuzzled his chest and sighed.

“I really hate fighting with you.” you mumbled into his clothed chest, drained and light headed from all the crying and nearly-a-panic-attack you went through.

“I know, I'm sorry. I hate it too." he whispered back.

There was a pause of comfortable silence, with both of you breathing each other in, before he wondered aloud: “did you fall down the stairs? are you okay?”

You chuckled breathily at his question, recalling the hysteria he had to deal with just a few minutes ago. But Yoongi was there, right beside you. your arms were tightly wrapped around his torso, right by your side.

He had some kind of exceptionally irrepressible magic in those fierce eyes and that gummy smile of his, you inarguably couldn’t be more grateful for that.

“I'm alright. Was too busy crying, I didn’t even feel a thing to be honest.” you said, and he giggled.

“I love when you’re clumsy like that, but please be more careful, muffin. Can’t have you hurting yourself because of me even more." Even with your face buried into the crook of his neck, you could feel and hear the heavy pout in that comment.

Huffing, you leaned away with furrowed brows and a strict gaze. Yoongi gulped. Hesitation took over him, yet he knew that honesty is the only thing that must be present to drive this conversation to an end.

Honestly brings clarity, he found himself reminding himself of that very often.

"as long as we take care of each other, it's okay. I love you." you affirmed, and perhaps Yoongi almost teared up because of the way you looked at him right then and there. He wouldn't utter a word to spoil that information out loud, though.

The shy grin and the flushed cheeks you were met with were worth risking the entire world and its eight billion residents. You couldn't help but smile and pull him into another hug.

"This is great and all, but my butt is numbed. I think there's no blood flowing down there anymore," he said, his heart swooning when you giggled at his humorous change of topic, so relieved that he was finally able to hear your brightness again.

"Let's go back to rest, darling." He stood up, grabbed your hand and squeezed it in his, then gently pulled your body up and dragged you to your shared bedroom, where everything and everyone else meant little to nothing at all as you laid in each other's arms.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi #bts #yoongi scenarios #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #bts scenarios #bts yoongi #yoongi angst #hurt/comfort #suga fluff #bts fluff #suga angst #suga fic #abandoment issues #bts imagines #bts fic

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billlydear · 2 years ago

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SUPERNOVA - BILLY HARGROVE X READER (PART ONE)

word count: 3135 // masterlist | inbox (please request) | WIP list

Summary: max's english tutor has a black eye and a shitty alibi. billy sees right through it.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual happy ending, mentions of abuse, injuries mentioned (black eye), reader is abused by her mother just like billy is by his father

A/N: thank you for 300 followers!!! have this as a little gift from me to you <3 basic biology part three is in the works, don't worry! i just wrote this in a fit of sleep deprived passion the other night after thinking about it for a week or so and i wanted to share :) i hope you enjoy! the ending of this is pretty straightforward and, though i plan to write more parts, this can be read on its own for now.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

There’s never a good reason for Max to stomp into Billy’s room. It’s always either her demanding a ride somewhere, asking for money, or shouting at him to turn his music down. This time, though, there’s no music playing, and it’s nearing 11:00 PM, so he’s not sure why she’d need money or a ride.

He glances up at her, really more of a glare, through his eyelashes, reclined against the wall as he lounges on his bed. He’s got a magazine in hand and the pages are as boring as the cover was, but he’d rather stare at faded jet ski advertisements than read the book he’s supposed to be working on for English.

She stops just inside the doorway, jacket on and shoes laced. He narrows his eyes at her, something of a question, and she sounds just as venomous as he looks when she replies.

“I need to borrow your window.” She mutters, piercing eyes set on him.

He’s heard her say a lot of weird things since they started living together. Mom, I can’t find my left rollerskate, Why is my bra in the freezer?, and We’re not going in the theater, we’re going to sit outside and talk, have previously topped the list but this is off the charts.

“Sure, Max,” He drawls, fingers tightening against the waxy magazine paper, “Just haul it back in here when you’re done, okay?”

“You know what I mean,” She huffs, already lunging for his bed. She practically topples him in her overzealous attempt to reach the window, and he shoots a hand out to steady himself as the mattress rocks. He has half a mind to kick her onto the floor but he watches her click a flashlight open from her jacket pocket, and stares with suspicious intrigue instead.

“Come on, come on,” She huffs, clicking the light on, off, on, off, “Where is she?”

“Who?” Billy leans forwards, peering out the window into the blackened neighborhood, “Jesus, Max, don’t go shining lights into people’s windows at night, they’ll think you’re some creep trying to watch them change.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you know that from experience,” She grumbles, shoving his hand away when he tries grabbing the light.

“I’m not kidding,” Billy seethes, muscled arm coming to combat her defenses, nearly shoving her off of the end of the bed, “What are you even trying to do, anyways?”

“I’m trying to talk to my tutor,” She snaps, landing a sharp slap to his thigh that reddens the skin there, “Butt out, butthead.”

“Assface,” Billy grumbles, rubbing at the tender spot on his leg with half a mind to whack her upside the head. She ignores him completely, desperately flicking the light at a ground floor window.

“Do you really need tutoring help now?” Billy groans, the incessant clicking preventing him from what was supposed to be his before-bed relaxation.

“She wasn’t at school today,” Max explains in a huff, “Or- like, she didn’t show up at my school. She called this morning to say she was sick, but she sounded fine, and I heard someone in the parking lot say that they saw her outside her house, just sitting there, like, really late last night.”

“So she was getting some fresh air,” Billy deadpans, “Now get out of my room.”

“Would it kill you to cooperate?” Max turns to him with such a judgemental stare that Billy’s surprised he doesn’t wither away right on the spot. Hell hath no fury like a teenage girl scorned, he thinks, annoyance bubbling in his chest.

“She’s obviously not coming,” Billy reasons, his patience wearing thin after almost two minutes of flashlight nonsense, “She’s probably sleeping. She’s got the flu or something, and you’re gonna wake her up and make her even more sick. Just leave her alone, and leave me alone.”

“I’m not asking you to be a part of this!” She gushes, jaw set in a hard frown and eyes rolling when he props his elbow up on the windowsill, cheek smushed into a bored expression against his palm.

“I just want to see if she’s okay, because she doesn’t normally get sick, and I haven’t seen her window open all day, and I really think that something might be wrong, so-”

After a staggering two minutes and forty-six seconds of morse code from hell, your curtains part. Max practically lights up at the sliver of light that appears between the drapes, but when your face pops between it, her breath hitches in a gasp.

Your eye is bruised. It’s swollen shut and purple, an ugly stain that blooms down your cheek, like a rose that sticks its thorns straight into Billy’s chest. His posture, previously saggy and bored, stiffens until he’s nearly pressed against the glass, brows furrowed in horror as his lips part ever-so-slightly.

“Oh my god,” Max breathes, and you regard them both with a weary gaze.

Max lifts the lower half of Billy’s window, slipping out the gap with such agility and speed that Billy doesn’t have a chance to try to stop her before she’s already outside. He rushes to follow her, cringing as his bare feet land in damp piles of leaves.

“What happened to you?” Max runs to your window, bracing her hands on the sill.

“Nothing,” You try to smile, and it pulls at the skin around your eye, finishing the expression off with a wince, “I just- it’s silly, okay? I slipped and fell on the ice out front and I hit the stair rail on the way down. I was too embarrassed to go to school, ‘cause I knew everyone would ask, so I just called out sick. I’m sorry, Max, I know today was our day, but I’ll do double time once this heals.”

The more you ramble, the quicker you spew your pre-determined speech, the more the thorns lodge themselves in Billy’s gut. It’s familiar behavior, having an outlandish excuse at your disposal, reciting it like poetry, blaming the bruises on a misstep down the stairs rather than a rage-fueled fist. He’s done the same to countless teachers, all staring down at him with a condescending sneer, assuming he’d instigated another fight.

Max might not be well acquainted with different types of bruises - and god he hopes she never has to be - but Billy certainly is. And your black eye is not from a stair railing, he knows that. It looks the same as his does whenever Neil decides he’s in a fighting mood, and it doesn’t seem like you have the frozen peas that Billy usually medicates his marks with.

“It’s okay!” Max promises, and thankfully she commands enough of your attention to where you don’t notice Billy’s grief-stricken stare, looking for all the world like he’d been punched in the gut.

‘It’s okay, we can just meet up some other time. Or- or I can come over to your house! So you don’t have to show your face anywhere. And I won’t tell,” She insists, hands dug snugly into the pockets of her jacket, “I’m good at keeping secrets.”

So are you, Billy notes, just not to the people with the same ones.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” You frown slightly, biting the inside of your cheek, “This really hurts, and it’s kind of giving me a headache, so… might be best to just meet when it’s healed.”

“That’s fine,” Max nods, reaching up and through the window to sling her arms around your neck in a rushed hug, “Just- call me when it’s better, okay? My teacher set us this new essay, and it’s got some stupidly complicated prompt, so I need your help figuring out-”

Billy watches as your head ticks up, eyes widening slightly as you tune into the sounds of your house. He knows the look all too well, you’ve heard someone coming.

“That’s great Max,” You stammer, reaching for the window pane to close it, "I’ve gotta go!”

“-how to… write it.” She finishes, face wrinkling in confusion when you slam the window shut, yanking the curtains closed, “Feel better…”

“Go,” Billy jumps to action, hearing a raised voice from within your room, not your own, “Max, move!”

He pushes her along the side of their house, shoving her around the back until they’re out of the line of sight from your window. He peers around the corner from behind an overgrown trellis, one that lets him see you without you seeing him. He waits with bated breath, ignoring Max’s indignant protests and slamming a hand over her mouth.

She licks his palm, but he manages to stay calm and keep it there. He will smear it on her cheek later, though.

Sure enough, Billy watches your curtains fly open. There’s a woman in the window now, and you’re standing behind her, expression unreadable. Then you speak, and Billy can’t hear it. Your voice must be soft, gentle, calming. The woman barrely reacts, eyes scanning wildly for whoever you’d been talking to. But Billy keeps Max quiet, pinching her hard when she tries escaping his grip.

Billy watches the woman in your window with a hatred he’s only ever felt towards Neil. She acts the same, menacing glares and a puffed-up chest. You react just as he does, a personified tension-diffuser as you shrink in on yourself and give steady, slow answers. She’s shouting, you’re mumbling. She’s advancing, you’re backing away. She’s grabbing your wrist, forcing you close to her, and you’re squeezing your eyes shut.

Billy’s stomach churns; he can’t watch this any longer.

He herds Max to the other side of the house, keeps her restrained with one hand and pries at her window with the other. It opens smooth and easy, no squeaking that would alert their parents to their escapade.

Once they’re both inside, she flips.

“You asshole,” She huffs, “You manhandled me! You really couldn’t just let me have one nice conversation with my friend? You had to yank me away like some psychopath?”

“She wasn’t going to come back,” Billy murmurs, a glint in his eyes urging her to lower her own voice, “And she didn’t fall down the stairs. Go to sleep, Max.”

He feels a pillow hit him in the back as he strides out of her room, and each step down the hallway towards his own feels like he’s numbing from the inside out. The role reversal of his own life had been so mind-shattering, watching a scene from his household happen in real time in front of him instead of a torturous memory in his nightmares.

By the time he reaches his room, his fingers are too numb to shut the door. He kicks it closed instead, staring out of the still-opened window to watch your own. The curtains are drawn again, shutting you off from the world.

He stands there staring for what feels like seconds, but is probably minutes with the way his brain is warping his thoughts. Abuse felt so lonely, it was a soundproof room with padded walls, but they stung like hot coals when his dad came stomping in to shove him up against them. His family, his safe space, his padded room, came with the irony of only existing alongside pain, fear, and anxiety. And knowing there was an identical room beside his for god knows how long, thick layers of insulation drowning out each of your cries and blocking out each other’s existence, makes him sick.

His eye stings with the residual image of your own, a feeling he knows all too well. His hand, on instinct, tingles with a cold sort of sensation, the same that he got from grabbing the ice-covered peas out of the freezer.

He’s off to the kitchen in a hurry, feet padding carefully across the floor so as not to alert anyone of his presence. The biggest challenge is opening the freezer door quietly, but he’s a pro at it by now. He takes the peas back to his room, but this time he doesn’t curl up in his bed with them pressed to his eye, he clutches them tightly and heads for the window.

Max’s flashlight is discarded on the sill, and he wraps it in his free fist. He clicks it on cautiously, testing the sound to see how it echoes in the empty space between your house and his. It’s not obnoxiously loud, hopefully no one can hear it.

He flashes it against your window, only for a second, then ducks beneath the sill. He waits, expecting an explosion of sound as your mother reaches out to grab him. But nothing happens, so he straightens up to his full height. The wind nips at his bare arms, goosebumps erupting over the skin not covered by his muscle tank. He waves the flashlight once more at your window, covering it with his thumb to flash it instead of clicking the button rapidly.

He hears shuffling from inside, then silence. Then shuffling again, a little closer, and silence. Then more shuffling, and the routine continues until he hears your fingers scrape at the window pane.

You duck under the curtains this time, easier to slip back inside and shut the window instead of drawing the curtains, “Max, I can’t-”

Billy doesn’t know what to say when your eye catches him. He blinks, once, twice, three times, watching as your anxious eyes rove over him. Only then does he register the chill in his hand, the peas.

“Here,” He murmurs, voice soft and slightly raspy, as he holds the package out to you, “Ten minutes, then turn the package around, then ten more minutes. And if it’s still icy, do it over again.”

You take the peas because you have to, because he’s pressing the cold package into your hand. Your fingers wrap around it and you peer curiously at the image on the front, only glancing back up at him when he shifts in his stance, leaves crushed beneath his feet.

“The package rustles,” He warns you, “Be careful. Don’t get caught.”

“I won’t,” You finally murmur, breaking your stunned silence, “I- Uh, thank you. It’s.. Billy, right?”

“Yeah,” He breathes, nodding once. He’s half aware that his curls aren’t exactly perfect like they typically are, because nodding sends one of them tumbling into his eyesight over his forehead, “That’s me.”

“Y/N,” You mumble, and this time even Billy hears the heavy footfalls in your hallway. They set you on edge again, and he yanks his fingers back from the windowsill so that you can snap it shut, “I gotta go.”

“Bye,” He whispers, voice lost to the night as he stands outside your window. He ducks beneath the sill again, where your mom can’t see him if she decides to search the premises. He doesn’t hear anything from your room, though, and he takes it as a good sign when the footsteps retreat. Then he hears the soft crunch of the package of peas, muffled beneath what he assumes is your blanket as bed springs creak from within.

His eyes snap shut at the sound, envisioning you curled up beneath your comforter, hugging the bag of peas to your bruise. It’s a position that feels so natural to him he almost replicates it, back slumped against the siding of your house. The rustling stops; you got yourself settled.

Only then does he move, climbing back through his window and shutting it for the night. He can’t sleep, though, eyes drifting towards your window from his seat on his bed. He watches, he waits, he stares until his eyes sting, every second that passes a blessing for the lack of commotion it causes. When he does fall asleep it’s after the upstairs lights of your house have shut off, because only then is it over, only then is it safe. He sleeps in solidarity with you, knowing that the click of the lightswitch puts you at ease just like it does him; if there's someone else awake, it’s not safe to sleep. He’ll wake up tomorrow morning with a stiff neck from sleeping up against the wall, but his eyes will flutter open and the first thing he’ll see is your window, hopefully open to showcase peace inside.

Never in his life has he felt connected to someone his age. That’s what abuse does, that’s what Neil does. He isolates Billy, keeping him under his thumb so the boy can’t escape his clutches. But now there’s a glimmer of hope right next door. Hope, he supposes, isn’t the right word. A muddy black eye isn’t hopeful. It is, though, when it’s matching his own, when your scars and bruises line up with each other’s to map out constellations of torture. He wants to chart them, find out where the patterns are, spit out the stories behind them.

He’s spent enough time stargazing his own past, picking a new ball of fire each night to examine. To pick apart, to wish he’d have acted differently in, to regret. Now there’s a whole other sky mere feet away from him, and he yearns to chart it, to explore its patterns in the desperate hope of finding companionship. Oh, that cluster? A missed curfew. That bright one? Backtalk.

He’s always felt like a potential supernova. Like one day, all of the hurt, rage, and despair inside of him is going to burst forth in an explosion of color, blood and guts paired with anguish and heartache.

And now, knowing there’s another ticking time bomb beside him, two panes of glass separating the two dying stars, he has hope. Maybe it’s morbid, to want to explode in tandem. To seek connection in even destruction. All Billy knows is that if he can’t get out, he’ll die.

He thinks about it for a moment; getting out. Shooting across the galaxy, hurtling over the inky black sky until the swirling black hole that is Neil Hargrove can’t suck him in anymore. Landing somewhere where he burns bright without the threat of explosion.

And for the first time since that vision began, he sees two stars. One yours and one his, twin flames, both rocketing towards a safe corner of the universe, one where no one else can dim your glow.

Billy knows right then and there, he has to get to know you. He’s never tried making real friends, never wants to get close enough to have to reveal that Daddy hits him and Mommy - New Mommy - doesn’t care. But you’re the same as him, a dimming star puttering along with the desperate hope of migrating instead of exploding. And if you can feed off of each other’s light, merge into one, he knows you’ll be strong enough to escape together, to go out without a bang.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove blurb #billy hargrove drabble #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x reader fanfiction #billy hargrove x fem!reader

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xohachi · 1 year ago

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illuminate

| sherlock holmes x u |

word count: 966

u have a date tonight! ur actually on the date for the first half of the story and sherlock’s brooding about it so badly that he can’t sleep :( BUT u come back sad 😧 so he comforts u ☺️. {angst/comfort/cute ending} {this is for the girls w no dad.}

(LOOK AT HIS PUPPY DOG EYES I WANNA CRYYYYYY) (i hate writing stories in my notes app but I watched American beauty last night and that “you could never be ordinary,” scene literally ate me so i just haddd to write something based off it. so enjoy this blurb i wrote first thing in the morning at a sleepover)

The mundane tick of the clock nearly lulled Sherlock to sleep. He persevered through the heavy bricks on his eyelids, pacing the room thinking of you. The time now was 12:34am. You’d left for a date at around 8, you never went on dates. Sherlock preferred it that way, maybe then he’d get some sleep. He thought of you, the image of you in your little black dress and red heels… the way you styled your hair and left a few dangling curls to frame your already perfect face. The stubborn detective would never say it but it enraged him to see you dressed up like this for another man.

…

“How do I look?” You asked sheepishly. He watched your eyes meet his, inhaling the presence of your soul snaking its way into the void where his was supposed to be. Somehow during the time that the two of you had roomed together at 221B Baker St, Sherlock had fallen in love with you and he hated the fact that he didn’t hate it.

“You’re leaving?” His tone was low, monotonous.

“Yeah silly, I happen to have a date tonight.” You gave him a spin. His eyes locked onto the slit in your already short dress and how it hiked up even higher when you moved. A scowl snuck onto his face as he thought about you dancing with lesser men at sub par bars, the way they’d probably slide a hand down your back, itching for an invitation to taint you with their touch.

…

‘A date,’ He muttered to himself. A cigarette sat between his lips. Sherlock leaned onto the fireplace and pulled his head back as he exhaled. Finally, your footsteps echoed up the stairs. He put out his cigarette and scrambled to find a place in his chair. Quickly picking up his violin, fumbling with the tuning to look busy. You’d left the house wearing heels yet your footsteps showed no indication of heels on your feet. You’d probably taken them off after too much dancing & the thought brought a red jealous haze back into his mind but he decided to let it go. Your dark silhouette emerged from the shadows. Something was wrong. He quickly scanned you with his eyes. Messy hair, your left dress strap sliding down your shoulder, your hand on your right shoulder seemingly massaging a bothering ache, perhaps from carrying your purse. Turning around, a yelp emerged from your throat.

“Sorry,” You choked out, trying to mask your sobs, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” You glanced down at the violin in his hands, yet his attention was solely on you. Sherlock’s eyebrow was cocked as he continued to silently read your tells. Shaky voice, running mascara, you’d been crying. Your arms were hugging your body, you’d been hurt. He stood up cautiously.

“He hurt you…” Sherlock concluded aloud, inching closer. His hands were somewhat extended towards you as if he wanted to touch you but couldn’t.

“No, Sherlock he didn’t, I’m alright.” You closed the space between the two of you. The sudden feeling of your small hands on his chest electrified him yet also diminished a fraction of his anger. Physically sure, you seemed to be okay. Sherlock realized that you were hugging your body to console deep emotional pain. Physical or emotional didn’t matter to him though, all that mattered was that you were in pain.

“You’re crying. He made you cry, I’ll murder him.” His rough calloused hands cupped either side of your face, his words venomous with intent. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation but Sherlock had never allowed himself to touch you like this. The most touch you shared was when he’d let you rest your head on his shoulder during long train rides, even then he felt like he was playing with fire.

“He was good to me, I promise,” a small silence, “I did this to myself, with my own insecurities.”

“Am I… ordinary, Sherlock?”

The streetlights trickled through the curtains, illuminating the silhouette of you both holding back from indulging in your deepest desires. The image of you, gazing up at the cold detective with wide teary eyes, clinging to his word like he’s god reciting the bible directly to you. Him, his hands on either sides of your face, soothing you with his words, “You could never be ordinary, not even if you tried.”

Although your crying had ceased, his words broke the dam behind your y/e/c eyes. Your head fell into his chest and the sudden intimacy caused Sherlock tense up. He could feel you needing him, begging him to hold you just this once, to tell you that everything will be okay…and that he loves you so. He opened his mouth to protest the hug, only to be cut off by a small, “Please, just this once,” whispered into his chest.

Frozen in time, the gears in his brain began to short circuit. He was a sociopath, how could he feel like this? The two of you were never even meant to get this close. He could feel his defenses crumble. Every alarm inside his mind palace blaring. Emergency! Emergency! The void where his soul should lie was no longer empty. You’d fought your way past his defenses, seemingly effortlessly. He lived and breathed you. He burned for you, and only you. Your soul igniting him, Sherlock finally allowed himself to wrap his arms around your small figure tightly. His chin resting atop your head. He wouldn’t admit any of this aloud. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t say anything at all. This was enough for now, he’d just be here, with you, for you, in the moment.

#bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x you #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes #fluff #angst comfort

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falcqns · 4 years ago

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my little flower

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x mom!reader

summary: bucky’s daughter turns one.

warnings: angst, and fluff. probably canon errors but i don’t have the comics on hand sorryyyyy

a/n: just me expressing emotion through mr boobky boobernoobs. also the little letter the reader has written is what i have written for my daughters birthday. LASTLY i know i have a story for Henry Cavill and his daughters name is lavender and i was gonna change it but then it wouldn’t make sense so i just kept it yk. anyways, hope you enjoy.

Bucky glanced at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

he was alternating between looking at the clock, his phone, and his sleeping daughter.

she turned one tomorrow, and he had no clue what to write. there were so many things he wanted to say, but he knew he had limited space on instagram captions to do so.

he wasn’t into instagram too much, but some how Sam and Wanda had convinced him to post for his daughters birthday. he had a few other pictures of you and her, and one or two of him on there already.

posting those seemed so easy for him. he took the picture, thought of a caption pre war Bucky would use, and hit post.

but when it came to his daughters birthday? the 106 year old was clueless.

he had asked you for advice, and you had just told him to remember what it felt the first time he held her, which was not helpful, because the first thing he felt was fear.

then, an overwhelming and crushing sense of love. like everything made sense. everything was clearer, because of the tiny little baby in his arms. he was terrified. more scared than he was when he was hanging on to that train for dear life, hoping he could just reach Steve’s hand. more scared than when he knew his memories of Steve and Rebecca and everyone in his past was fading due to Zola and Hydra.

a million times more scared than when he watched himself dust away in that beautiful Wakandan forest.

he was scared, but at the same time, he felt so safe. it was the same kind of safe he felt with you, but more intense. he knew that the little girl he was holding would never judge him for his past. all she would do is love him, love her Tătic.

Tătic. he had heard a Romanian child say it when he was seeking refuge in Bucharest, and he knew that’s what he wanted to be called. not dad, daddy, dada, papa, or any other versions of father. he wanted Tătic.

he felt safe, at home even, in Bucharest. yes, his apartment was rather shitty, but it was his. he had something materialistic and tangible that was fully his, after not having anything, not even his own body, to himself for over 50 years.

Bucky refocused his eyes on his phone, and decided to glance at what you had posted. he sighed as he realized that it was absolutely beautiful, and that nothing he could do would top it.

it was a video of all the firsts that Bucky had insisted on recording. he remembered sitting in his bed, in Bucharest, a few weeks after getting there. he had been thinking about Rebecca, and suddenly, a memory of her first steps came to him. he saw her little chubby body wobble before she took her first steps into their mother’s waiting arms. Bucky knew he couldn’t have been too old, but immediately started sobbing when he realized he’d never get to relive that moment. he didn’t stop sobbing for a good few hours. out of happiness, sadness, regret, he didn’t know. he had scrambled to grab a journal and wrote down every detail of that moment, before stuffing it in his go bag.

reliving it wasn’t something he’d ever thought about before, in 1945. there weren’t affordable video cameras, and there was no way to store them forever. so when Lavender came along, he insisted that every little first be recorded so he could relive it over and over again.

he watched as she took her first breath, rolled for the first time, crawled for the first time, said her first word (it was ‘plum’) and walked for the first time.

his eyes drifted down to the paragraph, and focused on reading the words.

‘lavender.

your name represents purity, silence, devotion, calmness, serenity, and grace. i gave you this name because i know you will represent all of those things. i named you after Lavender Brown from Harry Potter. Lavender was a beautiful, strong, and amazing character. she showered Ron with love, and adoration, which is all i have felt this past year of being your mama. you remind me of Lavender in so many ways. from the smiles i get to see in the morning, to the cuddles i get at night, to the way you, just this week, saw another child crying in daycare and went and offered your toy up without a second thought. you then hobbled away, and found a new toy. you never came to me to show you what you did, you never took another child’s toy now that yours was gone, you just did it. that is something Lavender did. Lavender gave everything to Ron without a second thought. she may not have been appreciated, but i will appreciate you and all of the little things that you do to help others, even at just a year old. you bring light and love to whoever is near you. you love with your whole being, which i adore. you’re only one, but you put your hands in the air and sing (babble, really) along to every single praise song, you dance, you sit quietly during prayer, and most importantly you love God with everything in your tiny little body. from the moment the nurses laid your even tinier body on my chest, it was just you, me, and your father. i had dreamed of that moment for years, but nothing compared to it. one year ago today, you were placed on my chest, a screaming red little bundle, and you instantly calmed down. i remember looking down at you and being so happy that i finally had my little girl. i remember thinking “God really sent me an angel in the form of a baby,” which is EXACTLY what he did. you are my sweet baby girl, and always will be. i will love and. adore you for the rest of my life. my sweetie pie, my Laffy Taffy, my love. my little flower, Lavender. happy birthday.’

how could he follow that?

he took another glance at the crib that sat at the end of the bed, and watched as his daughter sighed, and pushed her diapered butt up in the air before continuing to snooze.

he looked down at his phone, and decided to just follow his heart. let the words flow. it didn’t matter if it made sense, but he wanted the world to know just how much he loved her.

he took a deep breath, and began to type.

‘lavender rebecca barnes.

there are so many words that i could use to describe how wonderful, sweet, kind, adorable, and gracious you are, but even all of those could never fully express how much i love you, and how much you mean to me.

when your mom told me about you, i was terrified. i have done so many bad things in my life, why was God rewarding me with a tiny little human? i spent so many nights praying to God that i would never hurt you. that you would never see me as the world does. that you would never judge me for the things that i did.

but i didn’t have to worry. the second i saw your little face, all of those stresses and anxieties melted away. as i held you, i realized that you were mine. fully mine. having something of my own is something that i was deprived of for many years, and one day you will learn about that.

when i held you for the first time, i was petrified. you were tiny. the smallest, but most real thing i had ever held. you didn’t cry, you just gazed up at me. almost as if you knew i was your Tătic. that you knew i was your father.

your mother tells me that when babies are born, they don’t understand the grasp of ‘mother and father’, they more recognize who is a safe caregiver and who isn’t.

you, without a hesitation, recognized me as a safe caregiver, and have stood by that every one of these last 365 you have graced me, your mother, and everyone around you with your presence.

it has been a pleasure to watch you grow, and as much as it makes me sad knowing that one day you’ll know the truth about me, i know you won’t judge me. i know you will love me for me. the man who created you, who helped give you life.

you are such a special little girl, and i can only hope to show you just how special you are for the rest of my life.

i love you, lavender rebecca barnes.’

his thumb shook as it hovered over the post button, but he pressed it anyways. the screen brought up a loading symbol for less than a second, and then the post was there.

he shut off his phone, and placed it on the charger next to him, before getting up and walking to the crib.

he lifted her out, and laid her on his chest, before walking back to the bed and sitting down carefully. he gazed down at his daughter, a fact that still blew his mind, as she slept so soundly, even with the coolness of the metal arm probably seeping through the fabric of her white kitty cat onesie.

he glanced over at the clock, and didn’t stop the tear that rolled down his face when it hit 12:00.

“happy birthday, my little flower.”

#bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #mcu bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan man you lookin good

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breathings-of-the-heart · 4 years ago

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Stuck on You (Levi x Childhood Friend! Reader) Part 2

A/N: Hey guys! It’s been kinda a while but here is part 2~ I have this habit of writing and rewriting my pieces since I’m never fully satisfied by them, but overdoing that is just as bad so I’m going to leave this as is ajflkajada The amount of love my first part recieved was so genuinely heart warming and I cannot express my gratitude enough. I’m nervous to post this because of it, to be honest, because I hope it lives up to the expectations. Thank you to everyone who has shown me support, it means so much! If you guys want a part three, or maybe just a short epilogue, I will consider it so let me know! Also if you would like to be tagged in my future works, comment below or send me a message <3 I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Angst, Season 1 and No Regrets ova spoilers

Word Count: 4k

If you haven’t already, read part one here

As a former member of the Scouts yourself, you knew the ins and outs of the military’s regulations. Because of this, you also knew your request was a strange one, seeing as soldiers weren’t typically allowed visitors, but you hoped your letter appealed to the more personal side of Commander Erwin. Apparently it somehow moved the man, seeing as you had been brought by carriage to the legion's base the following night.

The clopping of horse hooves eventually stopped, and you were currently being escorted into the building by another familiar face, her hand already outstretched to help you out of the vehicle as soon as the door swung open.

“I understand your reservations about this, but you’re brave for coming here. I think he’ll be relieved to see you, (Y/N),” Hange spoke, her fingers hovering over the small of your back as she guided you down one of the many hallways, lantern swinging in her free hand. “I think he could benefit from seeing a familiar face.”

Your eyes were downcast, staring at the floor as rooms upon rooms passed by along your path. You couldn’t speak if you tried, words seemingly stuck in your throat and unable to keep up with your racing thoughts.

Deep breaths, (Y/N).

For better or for worse, there was no need to reply, as Hange came to a halt not a second later. She squeezed your shoulder gently before bringing her knuckles to the wooden door, knocking once, twice.

Your hands were clammy, heart thundering in your ears as you tried to steady your breathing.

“Levi, someone is here to see you,” Hange’s voice rang out firmly.

There was a distinct sound of a chair being pushed back, and footsteps growing nearer. Time slowed down, and you began to second guess every decision up to now. Would Levi even want you to be here? Will he be angry? You felt like bolting away and forgetting about the whole idea, suddenly afraid of his reaction. Afraid that your presence would only make everything worse.

Your eyes were widening as you realized the possibility of leaving was too late to explore, Levi already turning the handle from the other side. So instead, you swallowed your pride, stood up straighter, and pushed away the growing sensation of nausea in your gut.

“Who could possibly be important enough to interrupt my--” 

The second his eyes met yours, Levi halted in all movements. Your gaze was fixed on him as well, every bit of longing settling back in your bones the second it did.

He looked nearly the same as the last time you saw him, clean and kempt as ever, hair styled the way it always was-- the same way he’d keep it when he used to chastise you for running your fingers through it.

And those stoic, gray irises that drew you in your were fierce, yet somehow emptier. At the sight of you, his flooding emotions became too much to properly register, unlocking every moment you’d ever spent with him as they replayed all at once.

“(Y/N)?” He couldn’t hide his disbelief, eyes widening ever so slightly.  

“Hello, Levi.”  

~~~~~~~~~

Never did Levi think he would grow to care for another group of people the same way he had for you, Farlan, and Isabel. But sitting around Petra, Gunther, Eld, and Oruo, he found their excited chatter over the dinner table endearing more than anything. The ever stoic look on his face didn’t change, and he would never openly admit it, but it felt reminiscent to be surrounded by trusted company like this. All of Squad Levi had full faith in one another; it was necessary for the battle field. This created an unspoken bond between all of them that the unreachable Ackerman did not picture building with others again.

Fate worked in funny ways, he supposed.

Sounds of clinking silverware and chatter filled the mess hall, sun setting outside of its many windows and painting the expanse in an orange light. The males eyes drifted towards the entrance of the room expectantly, where a clock rested above the doorway. He took a sip of his tea whilst squinting at it, attempting to get a better read before feeling a slight jab in his side.

“Looking for someone, sir?” Petra inquired, with a hint of deeper emotion in her tone that went right over the male’s head.

He glared at her in annoyance, having almost spilled his drink as the thought of you returned to the forefront of his mind.

It was strange, seeing how capable you had become after spending those months by yourself in the Underground. They made you a bit more calloused than when Levi last saw you, carrying over to your skills as a Scout. You never used to be skilled at riding ODM gear, not even when Levi tried to teach you in your youth. Seeing you slash Titans without blinking an eye was like watching someone completely different.

But you had to learn, since you had no one to protect you.

Your open displays affection had grown fewer and farther between as your time in the Survey Corps dragged on. At first, Levi thought nothing of it. Truthfully, the Captain had hardly noticed, with how busy the both of you were. He wrote it off as stress, or the workload catching up to you. Or, maybe, it was that nagging thought in the back of his conscience he dared not dwell on: he had turned you into this, after being away for so long and then failing to protect your friends.

But as your words replayed in his mind like a broken record, too late he realized this wasn’t the case.

“I see the way you look at her. I see it because you used to look at me that way.”

“Captain?” Petra repeated, leaning forward to study his distant countenance and successfully pulling the man out of his thoughts. “She’s probably just training.”

He rested his hand on top of her head, turning it away from him and sighing.

“Eat, Petra. I don’t need you to be whining about hunger during our patrol tomorrow morning,” he chastised, forcing his eyes away from the doorway.

After that talk, Levi had watched you go, telling himself that you’d return soon enough. Yet could not shake the feeling in his gut that there was something amiss. He pushed away the pit in his stomach. You were safe, you were healthy, and that was all that mattered. Humanity’s Strongest had other things to focus on, after all, and tuned back into his comrades’ conversation. The man blended back in easily, occasionally offering a few of his own comments as the meal dragged on.

Every so often his thoughts would shift back to your conversation earlier that day, and he realized that you were wrong. As close to Petra as he had gotten, there was a stark difference between you and her:

No matter how strong you’d get, and no matter what you thought of him, Levi would always shield you from as much of this world as he could.

But it was better this way. Better if you moved on from him and easier to do if you thought it was because he wanted Petra.

If only he knew your last words to him “I’ll be back for dinner,” had been a lie.

It had been strange for him when you didn’t return. Levi tried not to think about how Kenny had done the same, instead grasping for a reason. For once, he could not read your thought process. The male had no idea why you’d voluntarily leave, after everything. He knew better than to hold onto certainty, but you’d thrown him for a loop. You were always the one to communicate, the problem solver, the one who understood him without much direction. Didn’t you know that you were irreplaceable? He should have come clean: told you that he didn’t see Petra that way, and just didn’t have the heart to admit he didn’t feel good enough for you anymore.

Did he ever even get the chance to say “I love you?”

His regret multiplied tenfold as he began to understand that maybe if he had, you would’ve stayed.

~~~~~~~~

A strange sense of comfort washed over the man as you smiled softly, small hands clasped together in front of you. He blinked, wondering if you were simply a mirage caused by his sleep deprivation. But you remained where you were, after all this time, standing at his door. For once in the man’s life, his mind was drawing a blank.

“I’ll leave you guys to it, then,” Hange stated, excusing herself and soon disappearing out of sight.  

Her statement pulled the both of you back into the present, and you were suddenly self conscious of Levi’s stare. You tucked your hair behind your ears and gestured towards his office, unable to gage his reaction to your presence.

“Would it be alright if I came in?” you asked shyly, astonished he hadn’t slammed the door in your face the second Hange left.  

To your shock, Levi simply nodded, stepping aside to let you through. Your movements were unsure and hesitant, stark in comparison to his: calm and collected as ever.

Just like any space Levi occupied, the area was clean and tidy, a lantern sitting upon his desk the only source of light against the cloudy night sky. It smelled like tea leaves, sandalwood, and disinfectant, a signature scent that made you fill with nostalgia. As the click of the door echoed behind you, the reality of your situation set in, and you turned around to face the man you were here to see.

His gaze had never left you.

“You’re hurt,” was the first thing that left your mouth, concern evident as you studied the bandaging that peaked above his knee length shoes.  

“Long story,” Levi offered curtly, eyeing you up and down from a few feet away. “One I don’t particularly care to tell you.”  

“Of course, that’s fine,” you agreed softly, a weak smile pulling at your lips.

You did your best to mask the hurt, knowing you deserved to feel it. It hurt to be here, the fear that Levi hated you previously keeping you away. Now that you were facing the music, that fear seemed more realistic than ever. Your brain wracked to change the topic before your mind could continue overthinking; desiring instead to cut the unbearable, building tension that never used to exist between you two.

“How are you, Levi?” it was a stupid question, but you no longer knew how to talk to him.

“(Y/N).” 

The way he said your name was sharp and challenging. You quickly cleared your throat and looked away.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Of course you’re--” 

“--Why did you leave?” Levi effectively cut you off, orbs narrowing as you dared to come closer.

The question caught you off guard. You thought you’d made it obvious with your last conversation with him those years ago. Surely, he had some idea, although his pained expression said otherwise. His fingers twitched at his sides, a movement you didn’t miss as your eyes flickered back to his in surprise. He had been so composed just a moment ago, that the sudden shift gave you whiplash.

Now his fists were clenching, as he waited in the painful silence, knuckles turning white.

“Why did you leave?” The phrase echoed tauntingly in your ears, over and over again.

You don’t know what came over you. All you knew was that you needed to rid him of the rare, defeated look etched into his countenance. To purge him of this feeling you caused. Whether reaching out would help or hurt, you didn’t know.

But you needed to be near him.

Levi’s eyelids screwed shut as you brushed your thumb across his cheek. The action was so simple, so delicate, so unsure and so familiar all at once, and at the feeling, the Captain’s composure finally came undone.

 He reached up and gripped your wrist, as if you’d fade away if he let go. In previous years, it was always you who craved skinship, yet it seemed as if a weight had been lifted off Levi’s shoulders to have you this close. Your touch still felt like the comforting warmth of a campfire; the type that would make anyone want to stay forever.

“I’m sorry. I thought you’d be better off without me,” you whispered. “I didn’t want to cause you any pain.”

He let out a breath.

“Then why are you here now?” his question was more defeated than hostile, which you hadn’t expected.

If someone asked a few hours ago, your answer would have been much clearer. But now, the logic that brought you here seemed overshadowed by doubt. After all this time, and after everything that had happened between you and Levi, any semblance of a relationship with him seemed unsalvageable. You told yourself this mantra over and over until it stuck. So why were you here?

Levi must’ve thought it audacious, for you to run away like a coward and still think you were relevant to him.

“I owe you so much. Whether I ended up being wrong or right, I’ve always acted with your best interest,” you sighed, thumb brushing over Levi’s dark circles. “Truthfully, I don’t know if I’m any use to you now. I might be the last person you want to seek comfort from, but on the off chance that I still matter to you, I’ll always come back,” you whispered earnestly.

Levi’s grip on your wrist tightened imperceptibly, and you longed to bury your face in the crook of his neck; to feel him wrap his arms around you in his embrace once more. It seemed as if Levi was staring into your soul, his shallow breaths mingling with yours at this close proximity as he opened his eyes to fully drink you in.

“I’m here to tell you that if you need me, I’ll stay.” 

He looked to the side as if brushing aside your touch, hand falling away from the raven-haired man’s face as he did so. It felt like rejection, as if he was brushing all of you away with a simple turn of his head.

Silence.

“You’re a real idiot, (Y/N),” he spoke finally, voice nearly out of place against the stillness.

Moonlight suddenly peaked through the window, showering you in a bath of silver light. Levi recognized this look. You were wearing your heart on your sleeve, offering everything you had to give; eyes wide and honest, shining with a vulnerability that even after a lifetime of knowing you, he had never seen before. The man felt conflicted at the sight, annoyance prickling under his skin as you somehow managed to hold him together and tear him apart all at once with your presence.

Losing his squad twist that knife in his heart, convincing him that he was cursed to be left by everyone and his superhuman talents only doomed him to live a life alone.

But now, here you were, standing within arms length: despite the pain you caused, still the only person he had left. Only you could draw this much emotion out of the typically monotonous man. He couldn’t tell if you were a blessing or a curse, but in the moment, all he knew was that he didn’t want you to leave again. He needed you to stay here, with him, the way it should be. Because you were family.

And true to your word, you did.

“You should really get some sleep, you know,” you stated after a while, closing the door with your foot as you entered with two fresh cups of tea.  

You watched Levi fill out paperwork on the other side of the desk, bringing the cup to his lips in the strange fashion you always teased him for. His gaze flickered up boredly.

“You know I don’t sleep. You go on ahead, though. The bed’s behind that door,” he paused, gesturing somewhere behind him. “I hardly ever use it.”

You shook your head, reaching forward and plucking Levi’s pen from his hand.  

“What you’re drinking is caffeine free. I switched it, so you have no excuse now.” You ignored the indignant scowl growing on the Captain’s face, urging him to listen. “Please, you really should rest. You know you need to.”

It took an entire hour of imploring and convincing for the man to finally give in, him grumbling as you helped take off the boot on his injured foot and ushered him onto the bed. You knew you were the last person with any right to tell the short Captain what to do, but knowing Levi, he was running on an hour or two of sleep while his body was begging for rest. And yes, you were very much hypocritical, draped across the couch in Levi’s office, staring at the ceiling. But none of that mattered to you, as long as he was okay.

You had been lost in introspection, being a room away from your childhood best friend and first love after so long a surreal experience. It felt strange to be back here, but you were too tired to dwell on how strangely out of place you seemed in a place you once called home.

The weight of your abundant emotions from the day finally crashed down, fatigue settling in. You rubbed your eyes, and snuggled closer to the cushions, letting the darkness claim you.

And in the other room, as Levi slipped out of his uniform, shaking his head in exasperation. His last thoughts while he inspected the door as if he could see you through it, was that of course only (Y/N) (L/N) could be more stubborn than he was.

As he slipped under the covers per your command, the ghost of a smile spread across his lips at the thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perhaps it was the constant danger of where you grew up, and the need to always stay on your toes, but for as long as you could remember, you’d been a light sleeper. If someone so much as stared at you for too long, your body would jolt awake, ready to take action within a moment’s notice. There had been many instances where this came in handy in your past; even after years of seldom disruption in your now boring life within the walls, this was a trait you never seemed to grow out of. So it wasn’t hard to notice the heavy breathing and panicked movement from behind Levi’s closed door.

Just like for you, some things never changed-- when it came to old habits, you knew the man like the back of your hand. The reason he rarely ever slept was one you were quite familiar with. One both of you struggled with, and probably always would. Nightmares never seem to stop. You’d gotten through so many of your own rough nights with your friends by your side.

Levi, however, always refused to admit how they affected him. Insisted on going through it by himself.

The subconscious urge to look after one other was most likely one you'd never grow out of, even if Levi had. You didn’t think twice before making your way across the office, swinging your legs across the sofa, awake within seconds. Without missing a beat, you stood up and made your way to Levi’s personal sleeping quarters, knuckles rapping against the frame twice. Levi’s shallow gasps quieted, and when you realized he didn’t plan on opening the door, you steeled your nerves to do it yourself. This was what you were here for, wasn’t it? To offer some comfort?

He did want me to stay.

“Levi?” You called into the darkness gently, feet padding foreword as your eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

His silhouette was upright in the bed, no doubt staring at you menacingly.

“I'm fine, (Y/N). Go back to sleep,” he snapped.

That didn't deter you, for he would never openly admit vulnerability. This was by no means new behavior. Besides, the strong emotion behind the Captain’s voice was an easy tell that betrayed his words. You pressed on, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Do you remember the time we were teenageers and you got sick, but couldn’t afford medicine so I took that sketchy job you specifically told me not to?” Your back was to him, yet you could feel Levi peering at you.

“Obviously,” he humoured you with a reply, knowing you weren’t going to leave. “You came home half alive and I felt like the most useless piece of shit in the world.”

You chuckled, fingers fiddling with the white sheets beneath them.

“Yes, which was unfair to yourself but also something I did not realize since you called me pretty much every name in the book,” you smiled, the memory oddly fond despite its events. “You were so angry, but I was also scared out of my mind... which was more important than your anger, I suppose. So you let me lay next to you that night. That was all it took to make me feel safe again.”

There was a long pause, you trying to get your words together in a way that could allow Levi to understand how you felt right now.

“I know what you’re thinking; what you’ve been thinking your whole life. You haven’t failed anyone and that stupid idea should be the furthest thing on your mind. Take it from someone who knows, alright? So many lives have had meaning because of y--”

His hand closed around your wrist, the grip much like it was the day you left him.

This time, he would not let go.

“--Stop, (Y/N). Don’t.”

You hadn’t realized there were tears falling down your cheeks until Levi turned your face to look at him. Trying to look away in your embarrassment, you laughed bitterly. His grip did not budge as he examined you sternly.

“Just be quiet and go to sleep, alright?”

You wiped at your face, determination etched into every fibre of your being.

“Mark my words, Levi, I will make you believe me.”

Levi rolled his eyes but tugged at you once more, opening the duvet in an invitation. When he sensed your uncertainty he simply nodded, arms winding around your waist as you finally crawled in beside him. Both of you knew that there was so much that still needed to be said; so many buried feelings and pain that would only take time to unravel. It felt like a miracle to find yourselves in this situation, pushing aside the thousands of emotions and questions and misunderstandings the two of you had, if only to stay together in this moment.

You didn’t need Levi to know that you still loved him; not while he was coping with another loss. It would be selfish to spring that on, and that was not what you were here for. But you had to tell him:

“I missed you.”

Levi hummed, nose brushing against yours in the close proximity.

“You better not be gone when I wake up,” he chided in response, orbs fluttering shut.

Your fingers threaded through his onyx black locks, brushing through the knots soothingly. Knowing you’d help this man heal no matter how long it took, you took comfort in the realization that he’d finally let you do just that.

“I’ll be right here. You’re not alone, Levi. I promise you never will be.”

He pulled you closer, thankful that there was at least one source of warmth left in his life that he could hold onto-- especially after coming to terms with and almost having been certain he’d never experience this feeling of contentment, again. But here you were to prove him wrong, a living slice of home in his arms.

It may have been wishful thinking, but you could have sworn you felt Levi’s breath fan across your hairline, a soft voice whispering “Thank you, (Y/N).” before you felt yourself slip away into slumber once more.

taglist: @asterroidd @chucky-26o1 @silversxble @belovedwindermere @christina-mj-stan @leviackerrman @cravrat @thekohakuriver1 @batakprincess @sunisenpai

#snk #AoT #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #levi #lance corporal levi #levi ackerman #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #snk levi #snk fic #aot fic #levi x reader #attack on titan imagines

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lokixreader · 4 years ago

Text

Just a simple maid (soulmate au)

Requested:

Yes

Words:

4,044

Summary:

Y/n, an Asgardian maid, seems to be the soulmate of prince Loki, and for some reason she always wears long sleeves.

Warnings:

A lot of crying, sleep deprivation, ANGST, panic attack (kinda), sadness, tears, some more crying and a lot of bad writing

A/n: alright first soulamate fanfic, let’s hope for the best

A/a/n: finally I’m back, but only shortly. I recently redound some inspiration and will to write and to try being present on my blog again. But now I must warn you. I wrote this in the span of 2 years more or less, and for how impossible it might seem, I lived a lot of things in 2 years. This has been specifically written in 3 different periods of my life which would be a few months before, during and a few months after my depression. I hope you will enjoy it, and to everyone that is going through what I have, please I beg you, be strong. Carry yourself and keep going. Even if it hurts. Talk to someone about it. Someone who will understand and not treat you as attention seekers. Remember that you are loved, that even if you don’t have anyone now, life works in unexpected ways, and that maybe tomorrow you will find those people or that person that is willing to love you, perhaps not romantically, but trust me, aromantical love is the best. You will get through it. It doesn’t matter how hard it gets. You’ll get better. You will be better. You deserve it. And you are not alone❤️.

As a maid, you have never imagined yourself in a higher rang then where you already were and never expected something more. Children often imagined themselves being a lot more then what they were, imagined being princes or princesses, kings and queens, gods and goddesses and so on, but not you. You only dreamed to be free. Free from everything and everyone. Being raised as a servant blocked your dreams. You never dreamed what the other kids did, you didn’t want to be a goddess, you didn’t want to be a queen or a princess, all you ever wanted was freedom. Something that you never tasted since you turned 19. Exactly. 19 was the official age when a girl born from a servant became one as well.

Your mother was a wonderful and loving person, the best person in all of Asgard. She was the queen’s servant and Queen Frigga, being the sweet and kind person she was, often left you to play with her sons, Prince Thor and Loki, giving you the possibility to grow up with them too, and so you did. You were practically the same age as Loki, who soon became your best friend. Strangely, like probably not all of the royalty would do, he never treated you as a servant, but as a friend, and Thor did the same, leaving the servant-treatment aside. Time passed fast leaving child you, child Thor and child Loki behind and welcoming yourselves as adults. When you turned 19 and became a servant, for how much Thor and Loki claimed to care for you, they couldn’t do anything to solve your situation, those were the rules and the laws of Asgard and breaking them would have meant for them to go against the throne that one day one of them would have sat on. However, you couldn’t blame them, and you did the only thing that remained: you dealt with it. You were a maid. You couldn’t change it. You simply decided to keep it that way. But then again, when you turned 500, after centuries of service, you finally found a joy. In fact, when an Asgardian turns to the age of 5 centuries, they get strange writings on their arms, because of soulmates, as you once read on a book. When you started having writings on your arm, you went directly to your mother, who explained what a soulmate was and how it worked, better than any book could.”Y/n, darling, a soulmate, as the name already explains, it's a person whom you share a close relationship and a deep understanding. It's someone made to love you, that destiny decided you would be in love with. You can't hate them nor not love them, it’s a deep connection that can't be broken ” she explained to you, and you asked curiously ”What are these writings on my skin? How can I find this person?” and you kept making questions ”This writings are something that your soulmate wrote on his own skin to contact you. In fact, this is the only way you can find your loved one. You are lucky. Some people, unfortunately, never find their soulmates”. That night you received another writing on your arm, and you didn't hesitate to answer.

Only that, nothing too special, but you still responded

Hey

Nothing too special either

What are you doing?

Compared on your arm and you answered

Just talking to you, nothing much, you?

And he answered, and you two kept talking for longer than 3 hours. When you realised how late it was you wrote:

Oh, it is so late! We should go to sleep!

Even if you didn’t want to leave.

Wait! Do you think that we could meet tomorrow?

You suddenly found on your arm.

Tell me your name and I will find you

You wrote back, even if you weren’t sure that you could have, due to all the work you had to do tomorrow. But then reality hit you harder than ever.

I am Loki Odinson.

Oh great gods, oh great gods! Loki Odinson, Loki, that Loki, practically your best friend since childhood!

From that moment you stopped writing and since that night you promised yourself to avoid Loki, for how much you could, due to the fact that you were one of his maids.When you dressed up in the morning you chose a long-sleeve dress, in order to hide the writings on your arm and, without even thinking about meeting him, you cleaned his chambers only when he left them.This is what you did for almost a month, but it couldn't last forever, and you knew it. What hurt you the most was shutting Loki out, he was your best friend, always there for you, and now you just let him out, but obviously, he kept writing on his arm to talk to you, to see if he was the one that did something to you. He kept on writing and writing until your arm didn't start to hurt. It started to hurt every time he wrote something, every word, every letter, getting worse and worse, but you couldn't ask anyone for help, not even your mother, because you couldn’t risk her knowing that your soulmate was Loki. Again, you did the only thing that you could do, you dealt with it. When you found the time, you went to the library to find any reason why the writings caused you pain and any way to stop it. Today was one of those days when you had the time to go to the library. The library was a huge room, full of shelves and departments, with millions of books of every genre. You went to the section where you found the books on soulmates when you were younger. You had been searching for it the whole day and you didn't find it. You could see from the huge window that it was getting dark outside and that you should have gone to your room, so you decided to leave. The following morning you got up with a stringing pain in your left arm. Again. Loki had probably been writing on his arm for most of the night. He often did that, without thinking that it hurt you, or maybe he just didn’t know. Then you looked at your arm, not surprised in finding many questions such as “What are you doing?” “Where are you?” or even “Who are you?”. You didn’t answer any of those, you didn’t want to, you simply couldn’t, so you just got out of your bed and dressed with a long-sleeve dress, as always. Then, you got to Loki’s chambers, when he left them of course. He wasn’t a messy person, in fact he was quite the opposite, even if sometimes it might happen that he left his bed un-maked, mostly because he was late for something or he had something to attend to. You started making his bed, and picking up a pillow which probably fell while he was sleeping, you found a book. You weren’t surprised, Loki loved reading just as much as you did, and it came to you without a surprise that he read in bed before sleeping, or even for the whole night. But what surprised you was what the book was about. On the brown cover, in a beautiful golden writing there was written ‘Soulmates: the lifetime bondage’. This was te book you were searching for the last day! And it was in Loki’s room, but why did he have it? The answer suddenly popped in your mind: you weren’t answering him when he wrote to you, so he was probably searching for the reason why. Opening the book and going through its pages, you saw a few notes here and there, till you didn’t reach the chapter about ‘not answering soulmates’ and you started reading carefully.

“Not answering soulmates:

When a soulmate does not answer to the question the other soulmate wrote on his arm, there are more reasons why it happens:

- The soulmate does not answer because of its own will

- The soulmate might not be capable of answering

- The soulmate might be dead”

The last part made your heart drop. Did Loki think of you as dead? No, he couldn’t, you were right there, alive and well! But he didn’t know, you never talked to him. You rolled up your sleeves, looking at all the questions he wrote, between them there were some “Are you alright?” or “Are you safe?” and similar. Tears started appearing in your eyes, one already falling on your cheek: you didn’t realise you started crying.“So you found the book” a voice said behind you. You rolled down your sleeve, got up from the floor you were sitting on and took in all of his form, recognising it as the younger prince of Asgard. “L-loki, I was not expecting you here!” You said. “I know, I had a very important meeting, which I actually did not have to attend” God his accent, you had really missed his voice. “Anyway, how come that I have not seen you in a while?” He asked “I..I have been busy..” you lied. He smirked. “Y/n-“ “I know, I know you are the god of lies and you know that I lied” you stopped him in the middle of his sentence “I was about to say that I know you since we were children, it is impossible for me not to know” of course you thought “So, what is this truly about?” you had to tell him the truth, but you couldn’t, not this way “I am just having problems with my soulmate” you said. Half truth and half lie, or better only truth and an omission. ”That is interesting, I am too” You were surely surprised that he said so “Oh, really, why, what is happening with them?” You tried to pass the topic on him rather than on you “I think you do already know by reading the book you are holding” he said. You looked down at your hands, finding the book “I am sorry, Loki. But do you know why they are not answering?” You tried to get the informations by directly asking him. “Unfortunately, I do not, but I do have an idea” you but your lip “Do you believe that they are dead?” He sighted “They might be..” he said without daring to look into your eyes. You felt so bad for avoiding him and leaving him without telling him anything. “Oh, Loki” you sighted and gave him a hug. He was startled after feeling your arms around him but then he gave in an hugged you back “I missed you” he said, burying his face in your hair. “I missed you too” you said back. When he stopped hugging you, you stepped back and tucked a stand of your hair behind your ear “Now if you excuse me, I think I should change your bed sheets” you said to him “Yes, of course” he agreed. You started packing the sheets so you could take them more easily and started heading for the door when Loki asked “You know that it is June, don’t you?” You slowly turned around and gave him a questioning glare “Isn’t it too hot to wear long sleeves?” He said. What am I going to say now? You asked yourself “I just liked the dress” you justified, immediately leaving the room, not noticing the smirking god. That was close. The days passed and you couldn’t help but being sorry for Loki. Sometimes you could see him wandering in the corridors near his chamber, with the book in his hand, a pen in the other, a rolled up sleeve and, to conclude his look, two deep bags under his eyes: to say that he was visibly tired was a misunderstanding. He was completely sleep-deprived. This situation was getting out of control and seeing him like this made your heart feel only pain and pity for the younger prince. This, till the day you finally had enough and decided to talk with him.

You knocked on his camber door, putting so much effort in such a small gesture. When you received no answer was the moment you started questioning yourself, but gathering all the courage you still had in yourself you entered, despite him not telling you to do so. Then you saw him. You saw him and you felt full of emotions: sorrow and regret were the first ones, then joined by happiness and joy for finding your best friend again.He was on the balcony, reading, a concentrated expression on his face, probably not even noticing you entered the room due to the lack of sleep. Or probably he had, but couldn’t bring himself to care in that moment. “L-Loki?” you quietly spoke his name, getting his attention... “Mmh?”.... more or less...“Loki?” you called for him again. When you didn’t get his full attention, you brought his face to you, locking your e/c eyes with his green ones. In doing this you could see his tiredness and sleep deprivation, the way his eyes had lost the sparkle they once had.“Loki, look at you! What have they done?” You asked him genuinely worried “I can’t find them, they won’t answer me! What have I done? What has happened to them!?” Loki yelled, tears picking at his eyes. You couldn’t do anything to him, so you hugged him, holding him to yourself in attempt to comfort him. He then let himself go, sinking in your embrace and crying, crying on your shoulder. When he finished you wiped away his tears, looking in his eyes “What is wrong with me?” He suddenly asked you.“There is nothing wrong with you, Loki, you are perfect. You are not the problem, it is them, they do not know what they are missing, and if they really do not want to be with you, then move on and let them see your true greatness” you said with a small smile forming on your lips, making a similar one appear on his face. His eyes were looking into yours, like trying to get to your soul. “Now, you need to get ready, there is a ball tonight you need to attend to” you said, looking down to the ground to avoid his gaze. “Come with me” he said “What?” You were shocked, did you actually hear well? “You understood, come with me” “I-should not, I-I mean, I am not important like the people that will be in the ballroom, and not even at your level to actually come with you” you stuttered “Oh, you got me wrong darling, you will not decide, this is an order, and please do not underestimate yourself like this” . That was... shocking to say the least. Not less then three second ago he was crying on your shoulder, and then he was giving you orders? Well, it was something he could do, but still, he never did.

You went to your room to get ready for the ball. What could you wear? You were a mere servant, you didn’t have a dress for such an occasion. But then, when you opened your dresser, you saw something that didn’t belong there: it was a beautiful long f/c dress. You took it to examine it and you saw all the diamonds it had on it. You were speechless, where did this dress come from? A little light turned on in your mind: Loki. Of course, who else could have invited you knowing that you didn’t have a dress for the occasion, just to give you a new beautiful one? There was only one last problem: the dress didn’t have sleeves. And now? What could you do? Make up on the arm? No it would be too much. Gloves maybe? Probably the best option.

After finishing getting ready you looked at yourself in the mirror. You felt beautiful, the dress looked perfect on you, the slight make up you put was perfect, and the gloves you found were perfect. Everything seemed perfect. You got out of your room, closing the door behind you and when you turned you found yourself face to face with the God of mischief.He looked at you, mouth slightly open, gazing at you from your feet to the tip of your head. “Is something wrong?” You asked, thinking that you had something out of place “No, you look ravishing”. You whispered a small ‘Thank you’ while blushing madly.

When you arrived at the ball room, you started feeling insecure. You were just a maid, a mere servant, and behind those doors were important people, princes and princesses, probably even kings and queens. Loki seemed to recognise your insecurity, since you felt him take your hand in his and lightly squeeze it. Now you could see why the destiny put him as your soulmate. That small gesture made you feel better, a bit more confident. You two then decided to enter the room.The night seemed to go well, and by well you meant that no one of the royalty approached you, except for Thor of course, who had come just to see you, since it has been a long time from the day you had last seen the blond prince. He started talking to you only when Loki had left your side “Hello, Y/n “ he began “Greetings, Prince Thor” you said back. He then chuckled, making you laugh; you had always greeted him like this as a child, a small obligation from your mother, who wasn’t used to you being friends with the princes. You then went on talking about the past months and what you had been doing, including the reasons why you couldn’t spend your time together.

“Alright, say that one more time.”

“Thor, I have already told you three times” you complained.

“I just need to understand why you have not told him yet” he insisted “How can you not understand? Loki is a prince, a god, and one of the most perfect people to ever exist, how could I ever stand next to him. I am nobody compared to him, Thor. I am just... just a simple maid” you explained, pain almost visible on your lowered face, you were feeling miserable just thinking about it, about your unimportance and how at times it made your life a living Hel. You were taken back to reality and away from your thoughts by a hand being put on your shoulder. You looked up to see an understanding sad smile plastered on Thor’s face “You forgot to mention the most important thing: he is your friend” he gently spoke, emphasising the last four words. “He has been your friend for longer than I have, he has spent almost his whole life with you and has always cared about you deeply. It shouldn’t be so surprising that you two are meant to love each other, but still, you keep saying that it should not be like that, just because you are a simple maid. Well, you might be a maid, but you are everything but simple. You are one of the most amazing people I have ever met. You are intelligent, funny, curious and beautiful. And top of that, you are you, and have never been afraid of who you are. For all these reasons, I can say today that I am happy and proud of having you in my life, and I am certain that my brother feels the exact same way”

By the end of his surprising speech, you found yourself on the verge of tears. You had always been in the dark about them caring so much for you and had never thought that someone could see you in that way. The blonde prince then hugged you tightly, noticing some of those small tears fall down your cheeks

“Do you want to know a small secret?” He asked you and you nodded still hugging him, then he silently said “When you had to become a maid, you should have been my servant, but Loki insisted so that you could be his” your eyes widened. Loki wanted you...as his maid? “He was convinced that since you should have cleaned his room, which isn not usually messy or dirty, you could have more time for yourself and that he would have been able to see you everyday at least once” You abandoned Thor’s hug to look at him in disbelief. He moved his hand to brush away on of your tears “ He loves you” Thor said, so faintly and silently that you wouldn’t have heard him if you were just one more step away. That last sentence hit you hard. Everything Thor said hit you hard. The room which wasn’t so crowded immediately started to feel smaller and smaller. Your lungs seemed non-existent and your breathing increased. You quickly excused yourself before running away towards the balcony.

The outside fresh air seemed to calm you down, and to fill your new redound lungs. You were feeling normal again, up until you didn’t hear a well too known voice. “Are you alright? I came back to my brother only to hear that you run away here” his voice was like the one of an angel, beautiful and spectacular, but at the current moment it was slightly panicking you. But then you took a deep breath and exhaled. In the meantime Loki came closer to the railing where you were at and looked at you worryingly. After a few seconds of mere loud breathing, you finally spoke up “I know why your soulmate is not answering Loki” he looked at you with a confused face “We do not have to talk about them, it is about you I am worried now. Forget them and tell me what is wrong. I want to be sure that YOU are alright Y/n, not them” you looked away from him and broke into a small laugh.

Ah the irony.

And if Loki was confused before, now it was even worse. You looked back at Jim’s sad face , then you slowly took off one of your gloves. Loki’s expression changed from confused, to shocked, to surprised and finally to one you could quite muster, something between realisation and sadness. He gulped, closing his wonderful eyes, only to open them Almere moments later “Why.” Was the only thing he said. A cold expression hard to read or to understand. “I was afraid” you answered, tears already forming. “Scared? Scared of what?” He asked slightly furring his eyebrows “That you would have rejected me and abandoned me. I was afraid of not being enough for you or that-“ you didn’t finish your answer. Tears were falling on your cheeks without a care, but you were engulfed in a hug “I would never leave you, for no reason at all. I’ll always be with you.” You hugged him back, scared that the world might end if you even dared to let go.

Minutes went by, but both of you couldn’t care less of the time passing, you just stayed like that, in each others arms, after so much time divided. Loki then kissed your temple. “I wish I told you sooner” you apologised looking to the floor. His index finger lifted up your chin so that he could see your features “Me too” was what he said “but this does not matter, for we are finally together now” you smiled at him happily. He could have reacted in million different ways. He could have told you how much time he spent trying to contact you, how he suffered without you, how his best friend leaving him could have affected him. But not a word. Not even a mention. He was just genuinely happy that you were alright and that he had his soulmate in front of him. *how could I have been so blind to this* he kept asking himself, looking at the e/c pearls staring at him.

Unbeknownst to you both, a certain blond prince watched them together, kissing each other fondly, then observed them get back in hand in hand, finally happy.

Tag List

(I’m just going to start a new one so that I don’t bother people who don’t care about this kinda stuff anymore) if you want to be added just tell me anywhere <3

@volpenera0 & @casseythebee & @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 & @melodynoelle & @just-the-hiddles & @arch-venus25 & @marvelgirlonamarvelworld & @fanfictrashdump

#loki #loki (marvel)#loki friggason #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki fiction #loki god of mischief #loki x reader #loki reader insert #reader insert #sadnees #writers tears #im so happy #happy ending

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beautifulterriblequeen · 3 years ago

Text

B2:S - Chapter 5

Much of this series will be about the differences and additions in the novel version, and how they contribute to my understanding of story canon. But there will be character appreciation, the odd theory and headcanon, and suchlike as well.

Here be lots of Viren deets, Best Boy Soren deets, some writing/continuity stuff, worldbuilding appreciation and half of a theory, Detective Rayla, Moon Temple geeking, Claudium and dark magic, and more!

Spoilers for Book Two: Sky below.

(I know for darn sure that I wrote up a post for chapter 4, but I can't find it anywhere so I guess Tumblr ate it and I'll have to redo it at some point, but today is not that day)

Viren, my evil dude, my bad guy, coming in clutch with the worldbuilding and backstory again! If you want to know decades of information, you gotta talk to Viren. Or read his scenes, at least. Here, he seems to not sleep much when he has a big problem to analyze his way through. Solutions trump pretty much everything else in this guy's life, and he's had a really hard week with a lot of new and complicated problems. Of course he's getting sleep-deprived trying to find his way through them all.

Harrow put so much trust in Viren when he made him High Mage! He just threw himself extra hard at that Lady Justice blindfold, didn't he? Didn't really want to see what Viren was doing in his magic study, so he left Viren to his devices. And Viren has a lot of devices.

Also, this is fascinating: Viren made the secret passage to his "less official study" in Katolis Castle! And he was inspired to do so by the way his own mentor kept the Puzzle House. What else could a Puzzle House be, except a place with secret passages? Yay! secret headcanon that "the Puzzle House" is just "Katolis Castle" from Kid Viren's perspective tho

So either Viren built all of those passageways, or at least the ones to his dungeon. Which means he has to have, or know where to get, a stash of those glowing blue Moonshadow crystals. Hmmm.

I can't wait to learn more about Kpp'Ar and young Viren, btw. From this description of Viren and all his literal secret ways, it feels like another parallel between Viren and Runaan, with the whole "secretive paths, members only, insider knowledge" type stuff. Only the really cool members of this cult club get to know the secrets, and guess what, kid, you're cool now but you can never tell anyone, okay? Our secret.

Yeahhh, that'll never backfire in any way for either of them.

Kpp'Ar calling puzzles and secrets "man-made magic," though. Yes sir, knowledge is indeed power.

This chapter mentions Runaan by name, from Viren's perspective. Generally that would imply that Viren knows his name, even though assassins do not share their names, and Runaan didn't seem to give his to Viren in the first book. However, there was a scene in book one where the last paragraph switched perspective from Viren to Runaan - a technique that's very common in visual media like movies and shows and gives you that "ohoho they left the room and didn't notice this, but you do!" vibe. Using Runaan's name there in book one, where Viren couldn't see it but readers could, helps them keep track of the assassin's story arc while maintaining Viren's racism.

So in book two, in which Runaan has no onscreen scenes (alas), using his name in a scene that calls back to the events in book one helps us remember what happened in that dungeon cell. It would be a bit muddier to recall the specifics if Viren kept thinking about Runaan as "Elf." So I'm cool with the perspective nudge because it serves a narrative purpose: clarity. But I'm also enjoying the angst of considering that, somehow, Viren learned Runaan's name either during or after the coining spell. Mwa ha ha haaa. (Obligatory "Keep my pretty name outta your mouth" goes here)

Okay, back to Viren's scheming! He took the mirror because it was human-sized in a dragon lair. He knew it didn't really fit there, and that made it interesting, so he stole it. But he realized it was really powerful when Runaan wouldn't tell him squat about it - the assassin's instinct to protect Xadian secrets from human hands meant that Viren was holding a very powerful Xadian secret. And that just made him want it all the more. Ah, Runaan, if only your relationship with lying was, like, the exact opposite of what it is. Nyx could've spun Viren a believable tale in 2 minutes flat.

Also of interest: Viren considers his cursed coins to be a final fate. He expects Runaan to remain in his coin forever. With the Chekhov's coins still extant in the storyline, we can assume that they'll come up again eventually, but Viren has no current plans to do anything with his elf money except carry it around.

It's worth noting that Viren admits that he got impatient when he trapped Runaan in the coin. Runaan's first fate in Katolis was supposed to be death at Soren's hands, but Claudia "saved" him from that. His next fate was to become spell components, but Viren's frustration with his stubbornness "saved" him from that fate, too. So now he's in a coin, where no one can chop him up at all. Yay? No, boo!

We get one last line about Runaan before Viren shifts gears: he makes a point of noting for us that Runaan's shackles are still locked shut. However much of Runaan made it into that coin - body, soul, hair care products - he was magicked there, pulled right out of his restraints.

The creepy black liquid that Viren pours right into his eyes is the last of a powerful potion he got from Kpp'Ar, and its recipe is ancient! Humans used it back in the age of Elarion to see through the illusions of the world. And we get a delightfully creepy bit of description about the preparation of this serum, which makes it abundantly clear that it's a Moon magic-based concoction, harvested from eyeless vipers on a moonless night, with the threat of irrevocable madness ("madness" by whose definition, though) if it's done wrong-

Hang on. Hold up. This is a Plato's Cave reference. OH MY GOD.

No no I'm fine, this is brilliant. Sorry, sorry, I couldn't figure why there was so much description for a potion prep that Viren didn't even have to perform himself. But now I get it. I see the light. HA. I should make a separate post for this, it's amazing.

Anyway, for reference, the humans who used this serum were called the Oracles of Ophidia, and Ophidia is a taxonomy group that includes all modern snakes. Can you say "creepy ancient snake rites"? I can! Woo!

Viren activates the serum with a spell, but apparently he's never done it before. He's not sure if it's supposed to be hot and bubbly, and he worries that it's been tainted by moonlight.

Oh, I do hope so.

The magic potion hurts, a lot. Viren will do just about anything, to himself or anyone, to do what he believes is necessary. He just risked madness and blindness to find out what this mirror does! Viren. Can you just. Take a nap or something. Have a Snickers.

This chapter gives us a fun clue that I don't remember from the show: when Viren's vision clears and he can see, his reflection has white pupils and the room reflected in the mirror has inverted colors. You know where else has inverted colors?

You know who else got white pupils for a hot second?

Okay, now it makes sense! Viren and Lujanne were both seeing into the realm beyond life and death. Him with his moon magic potion, and her with her moon powers on a full moon night at the Moon Nexus. Which is Very Interesting! Is it a direct hint about Aaravos's location, or just a separate cool detail? Orrr, does it look like a direct hint because Aaravos is actually trapped in the world beyond life and death, but it's actually separate and we'll see something about white pupils again later on?

Viren really does have self-esteem issues, we all picked up on it with his rant at his reflection. He throws a fit when he catches himself wondering if he's actually worthless. In the book version of his tantrum, he shoves the mirror and hurls a candelabra instead of flipping a table. He didn't need to shove the mirror to set the fire, but it's in here. Foreshadowing that perhaps, if push comes to shove, Viren will choose himself over Aaravos? Giving Aaravos time to peek through and see that the coast is clear?

Soren, my boyyyyy. He has a rough night at the Moon Nexus because two sides of him are fighting with each other. He struggles to understand Callum's friendship with Rayla, and he also fantasizes about chopping off Rayla's head. One of these is a pretty ordinary thing to do. The other is Soren's internalization of what he needs to do to gain his father's approval. If he brought his dad a chopped off elf head every week, he'd probably feel a lot more confident because Viren would praise him a lot more.

Okay, okay, omg, is it just me, or does the "Moonshadow Madness" story, as it's told in the book, seem like Soren just doesn't know what a monsterfucker is? He thinks an elf bite puts humans under a spell. But vampires are sexy, and some people want them to do more to them than just bite them. A passionate kiss under the moonlight could look very bitey, especially if one of the participants has horns and you're already culturally trained to hate them. No yeah, I'm already headcanoning an actual human-elf kiss that got misunderstood by an observer long ago.

it's Lujanne isn't it, we all know, because what is a love spell but a sweet soft illusion, I mean how else does she get supplies for her Caldera, I ask you, and also Corvus was totally sent to investigate once and he told Soren at camp what he saw

And then back to magefam angst: Soren pretending that his sister's nose-tapping is stupid, even though he actually thinks it's cool, just because their dad thinks it's stupid. Viren, istg. Let your kids like harmless things. It's so cute that Soren taps his nose back at her, though! Like they have their own sibling code. I hope we get to see the nose tap again, especially now that they've chosen different sides. It could mean so much, that they're not too far apart yet.

Rayla knows what buttery pancakes smell like. I love this. Do Moonshadow elves have butter and pancakes, does Rayla eat a stack of eight giant pancakes in the morning? Orrrr it is just illusion food? I don't care, let Rayla have pancakes! Everyone loves pancakes. Pancakes will save the world. this message brought to you by the fact that I can't eat pancakes rn, send help

I love that Rayla is both sus of the pancakes and hungry, and that combines into a very motivated "I will get to the bottom of this" attitude. She kind of goes into Poirot Mode when she inserts herself into Soren and Ellis's conversation about Ava, explaining about the wolf's illusion leg and segueing into her claim that the pancakes taste sus. Claudia confirms she used dark magic, and Rayla is furious. It's different than the show's version in that it puts Rayla in detective mode, as the only Moonshadow elf in the scene, and boy does she take that role seriously. Also, she doesn't actually swallow the dark magic pancake bite. It ends up on the ground just like Lujanne's grubs from that earlier meal. These poor kids are so nutrient-starved. You guys gotta eat!!

Rayla's determination and prejudices and the fact that she super knows Harrow is dead all dovetail to make her try repeatedly to persuade Callum that Soren and Claudia are Not To Be Trusted. It's nice that the book keeps taking the time to point out that Rayla is Well Intentioned But Flawed, just like Callum and pretty much every other character in the show. No one is Right All The Time, no one Knows More Than Everyone Else.

Callum loving the sound of Claudia's unique voice is so wholesome. When you like someone, it only makes sense that you like all the things about them that they can't change - like the sound of Claudia's voice. Her choices with dark magic, not so much!

Claudia seems to have the same concerns Soren does about Callum's relationship with Rayla, but she comes out and asks him. The inherent possession implied in "your elf" is interesting, though. Elves are not people to Claudia. They're enemies who can be disassembled for the magic inside them. So maybe more like robots than living beings, if she knew what a robot was. Maybe she heard Soren's "Moonshadow Madness" story and realized he totally missed the kissing implications - but she didn't, and now she's genuinely worried that Rayla could kiss Callum under a full moon and enchant him to do her will. Good thing it's only a half moon, then!

Okay, Callum nervously making a puppet hand and then not knowing what to do with his hands and freaking out about itching and moving and pointy elbows is such a ND mood. The sudden stress of knowing that someone else is noticing your existence and maybe you're Not Existing Right, amirite? Ugh, poor Callum.

The Moon Temple! Omg it's so pretty in the description! Made to be beautiful and useful, full of knowledge but also allowing light and life inside (butterflies and vines). Lujanne, when can I move in, please? Also, it's all the more angsty because Lujanne is the only one who gets to see this beautiful place, but it has lots of chairs and shelves and tables, and it was meant to be used by lots of people. :(((

Claudia knows some of the runes on the walls. She isn't in a hurry to copy the rest of them down or anything, either. Her spellwriting is very precise, and she's a skilled mage. Her father would have made sure she was aware of the dangers of drawing sloppy runes, as much as he made her aware of the dangers of doing dark magic wrong. And the whole point of dark magic is that it's easier to learn than primal magic. Claudia supports her dad and their shared knowledge and life path. She's not gonna go nuts over an elf library she can't translate.

Side note: Between Claudia knowing some Moon runes and Viren building a secret passageway and a dungeon and lighting it with the same blue crystals that Lujanne and Ethari use for light--and Claudia exclaiming that she loves ruins--I wonder once more if there are really Moonshadow ruins somewhere in Katolis, which Viren has found and looted. Father-daughter relic hunting trip, maybe while Soren is away at camp? Omgsh that would be so wild!

Callum out here having a Viren moment with his "I feel powerless unless I've got magic that lets me help" vibes. God. I love their complicated mirroring. One of the hard differences between them is that Callum is very sure dark magic is bad because you have to kill stuff and take its power to cast spells, and he doesn't want to be a person who kills and takes like that. The line he walks to be nice to Claudia on their tour of the Cursed Caldera because he likes her, while telling her that he doesn't want to do her magic, like, ever, is so fine that it might as well be a shifting shadow on the ground. It's a very fitting conversation to be having during the half moon, with its tricks and little white lies.

Callum being out of the castle and his comfort zone, having to deal with the fact that the Claudia he loves is not quite the Claudia who's chasing him down across the kingdom, but of the two of them, he's the only one with a problem with this.

They say that if you really want to get to know someone, you should spend time with them outside their comfort zone - in heavy traffic, with a small baby, taking care of a new pet, trying a new skill, following unfamiliar directions, etc. While the castle is familiar territory for them both, Callum's never really found his comfort zone yet, while Claudia is pretty comfortable with her growing skill set. The creepy part starts to kick in when Callum begins to realize that Claudia's comfort zone encompasses a whole bunch of stuff that seems like it should make her uncomfortable... but it doesn't. But that'll be for a future chapter!

#book two: sky spoilers #book two: sky #b2:s #tdp spoilers #viren #harrow #rayla #runaan #callum #claudia #soren #lujanne #moonshadow elves #aaravos

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mightynonagesimus · 4 years ago

Text

15 Minutes (What If I Told You)

ANGST WITH AN UNHAPPY ENDING. DO NOT READ FOR A GOOD TIME. This is a supercorp oneshot I wrote after I hear the title song. Very Angsty, you are warned. Trigger Warning : Angst, mentions of suicidal thoughts, depression, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. Obiviously. This is pre-apocalypse.

11:27,

Monday, July 13th

Lena's Loft,

National City.

It was very unnoticeable at first. Solar flares from a nearby galaxy far enough that they didn't think much of it. A few explosions a couple galaxies down hardly warranted the DEO's involvement. Besides, Earth had different things to worry about. The Team had different things to worry about. Probably. Lena wouldn't know anymore, would she? After the Fortress, she had taken extra precautions to block every single one of them out of her life. She didn't need anyone. She just needed to save the world.

And to be honest? Lena was ashamed it took her that long to figure it out. It wasn't like her. The Prodigy of her generation. The CEO of one of the biggest Tech Corporations in America. The sister of Earth's most infamous criminal mastermind.

If she had just gotten out of bed, checked any of her projects, called her secretary back. But she was too numb, too empty. Lying in bed, unable to move or think. Wishing to die. She couldn't even muster up the energy to lift a hand, it was just... pathetic.

After a week, Jess had had enough. It took Sam flying over from Metropolis to even get Lena out of bed. Sam had no idea about Kara, of course. But it didn't take long for her to march over to Alex's apartment and threaten her friend until the truth spilled. Lena had never seen that furious. Over Lena, of all people.

She didn't deserve Sam.

***

Sam had been pestering her all week. Bringing over food and staying with her every night. Lena felt like an asshole, taking up so much of her time. That was the main reason she returned to L-Corp after a week That was when she found out about the satellite malfunctions. Some radioactive signature was messing with their signals. That was fine, this was a problem Lena could fix, right? Easy.

Wrong. Turns out the signature was something her systems could recognize. Kryptonite. A giant chunky piece of Kryptonite and debris about the size of a small moon. A Krypto-Comet that was hurtling at half the speed of light from deep space, directly towards Earth.

Mondays, right?

Of course, she contacted the DEO immediately. They were horrified. For a Secret Government Agency handling the extraterrestrial, they had some shockingly bad tech. She wasn't really surprised. Also, they might have been slightly distracted with Leviathan. Lena had spent the next three days cooped up in a lab with Brainiac 5 desperately trying to come up with a way to deflect it or destroy it, or anything really. Usually, an Anti-Kryptonite suit and Supergirl would have taken care of the problem real quick, but considering the size of the comet and the excessive amount of Kryptonite on it, it just wouldn't be possible. There was no time to call for back-up from Argo City either, with the satellites malfunctioning.

The last five days were utter chaos. Naturally, the news hit the public hard. It was pandemonium, but how could you keep a goddamn meteorite impact from them? The skies were already turning purple.

Lena however, was still in her lab. Over the course of three days, a complete whirlwind of people checked in and out of her lab. People she had never met before. People she had never even heard of. Cisco Ramon, Caitlin Snow. A scientist named Raymond Palmer with some very interesting ideas on molecular structure and shrinkage. Felicity Smoak. Alex pulled her aside during lunch to explain about the Multiverse.

What. Even. What.

Okay.

It felt like her brain was exploding, but she was their best chance of saving the planet. She had to pull it together. She can't show any weakness.

Alex called for another excruciating meeting the second day.

"Attention! I have some news." Alex exhaled slowly. "Sara?"

"I'm sorry guys, but it's bad. We were unable to prevent this event from not occurring. It happens rarely, but this can't be prevented by modifying the timeline. It's inevitable. We have to find other ways."

"What if we move your population to our Earth?" Harry? Larry? The guy in red spandex asked.

"More than half out Earth's population have doppelgangers in yours. It will mess with the balance of your universe. We can't move them. How about finding an empty universe?"

"Kara is out looking for one, but every Earth we found was either ruined or full. That's too long a shot, I don't think we'll find one in time."

"Well, theoretically-" Brainy hesitated - "My ancestors had a way of...dealing with planets that disagreed with them. They would shrink them down and have them as trophies."

"We can't shrink the planet, the gravitation of the solar system would collapse and we would fall into the sun." Lena muttered distractedly, fiddling with her pen.

"Let's not do that. Any luck contacting Superman?"

"Radio silence. The radiation is messing with communications."

"We could push it through a wormhole, or a portal, but-"

"The comet will be here before we could begin to build it. What if we transport our people to a different planet?"

"Seven billion people on a different planet without nearly enough food and water?"

"Or maybe into a space station?"

"We have four days. To transport seven billion people. And essential items."

"Yeah, that's not gonna work either."

"Okay, let's keep at it guys." Alex clapped her hands together. "There IS a way, we just don't know it yet."

***

Yeah, there was no other way. The days went by in a whirl. They came up with theory after theory, but it was too late. Their world was going to end. Nothing can stop it.

During the last day, Alex ordered every non-Earth-38 person off the universe. And even though there was some resistance, everyone sombrely agreed it was the best move.

A surprising lot of friendships were made that week. World-ending threats tend to do that, apparently. Lena personally never wanted to experience Nia and Zari Tarazi try to cook a pizza together ever again. They almost blasted the dough halfway across the DEO building and into the miniature Nuclear Reactor.

Lena would never, not in a million years, ever admit it; but she wanted what they had.

She couldn't fathom that comfort, that mutual understanding of trust that Nia shared with Zari. How did they build it? How could they rely on it, when they had been strangers only a week ago? How could you share your secrets, yourself, with someone who could potentially turn against you, someone who could be lying through their teeth like Eve was, someone who might hate you just because of a name that you can't change?

Not that anything could be done now. It was too late.

They were gathered at the DEO training facility off-city to say their final goodbyes, except Lena was at L-Corp. It took her a while to accept it, but this time it was real. There was no hail mary, no high stake final masterplan left in her. She was going to die, along with her planet.

So it was the perfect time to break out her finest bottle of scotch.

The L-Corp building was deadly silent. Any other day, Lena would have enjoyed it. The building was almost never fully empty, with the security team and the journalists and the interns who never sleep. Today it put her on edge.

Because she did this. Lena caused all this, it was Lena's fault. She was the reason-

'Alex.'

The tiny blue screen lit up on her desk, ringing insistently. The tech mogul was almost relieved that something interrupted.

The silence. Interrupted the silence.

Lena brought it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Lena!? Where the hell are you?" For a second, Lena relished the panic in Alex's voice. Of course, it probably was over the world ending, but she wanted to pretend that it was over Lena. That Alex actually cared about her.

"What do need me to do, Director Danvers?" Her voice was meant to be posh and clipped as always, but it came out slightly more drunk than she wanted it to.

"Wha-Nothing! I just couldn't find you anywhere so I thought I'd check up on you." Aww, Alex. You don't need to pretend, everything is gonna go to shit anyway.

"Is Sam still there?"

"Uh- Yes. Yeah, she's here. Do you want to talk to her?"

"Nooo." Lena considered it. "No, definitely not."

"Lena, are you drunk?"

Lena exhaled loudly. "Why did you call me, Director?"

"Because the universe is ending!" Lena cringed away from the phone. That was too loud for her sleep-deprived brain.

"I don't see your point." She huffed back.

"Goddammit. Look, Kara and I will keep looking for a solution, you don't need to worry, okay? You know she never gives up. Nia and the others-"

"Please just stop." Lena begged.

"I-Stop?" Lena could picture Alex's face. She hated that she did.

"I don't care! About anything, anymore. Just leave me alone. Goodbye, Alex."Sorry I pulled so much shit.

Lena switched it off and chucked it across the room, onto her couch. It bounced over the cushions and fell over.

She was alone, now.

"Hope?"

"Greetings, miss Luthor. What can I do for you today?" Hope was always here. Lena's only constant companion through everything. Even if it did wear the face of her traitor friend.

"You understand that this will be the last day?"

"Yes, miss Luthor-"

"Lena. Call me Lena."

The robot cocked its head to the side. Why did Lena program it so life-like?

"Lena. Would you like for me to call anyone else?"

"No, thank you. How long is it now?"

"Seventeen minutes and three seconds."

Lena cradled her head. It felt like her brain was swimming in the alcohol. At least she won't have to feel this tomorrow.

"Execute terminal orders and shut down, please."

"Executed. Goodbye, Miss Luthor."

The hologram blinked off. Lena swirled the last of the scotch in her glass. It didn't taste nearly as good as she hoped. She set it down in distaste.

God, this was all her doing, wasn't it?

If only Lex could see her now, pushing everyone away, alone and lonely on top of the empire that was built by her psychopathic family. Everything he said that day was true.

And it was all Lena's fault. Because she chose to trust Kara. She chose her new family. She wanted that. She craved that. Even when she knew she could never have it. She's always craved that. This wonderful 'family' she could love with all her heart. They would have been her people, they would love her no matter her last name. They would support her through hell and back. She fucking fantasized about how they would be there for her every birthday, about how she would shower them with love and affection, about game nights and road trips. She didn't give a shit about romantic, platonic, she just wanted someone to be there at the airport when she comes back from month-long expeditions through Europe.

It all seems so naive now. She was still here, on top of an empty building, because of her choices. Because of her stupid, stubborn pride. She must have chosen this, right? This is what she wanted. To be alone. Sixteen minutes from the world ending. She had chosen to be alone, bitter, angry at herself for doing what she had done.

Fuck, no.

But it was too late. Too late to accept her family, too late to enjoy them. Too late to save the world. Too late to apologize.

Too-fucking-late.

Fuuuuuuck, she messed up. What she wouldn't give to go back in time, find her younger self and...eughh. Berate her? Explain? Mug her? Lena had no idea.

This scotch tastes like shit.

Why is time so slow?

Tick.

Tock.

Her life is shit. She would like a refund.

Tick.

The alcohol is really getting to her brain, cause she found that funny.

Toc-

The entire floor rattled when the door flies open behind her. *

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Oh hey, Sam. You did come.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" She crossed her arms, raising one brow at her CFO.

"Lena, no." Sam stomped over and wretched the glass away from Lena.

"Goddammit, leave me alone, Sam!" Why I am so shitty all the time Sam?

"No." She repeated firmly.

"What?"

"No. I should have done this a long time ago when I first got back here. I'm not leaving you alone, I'm not letting you drink yourself to death. I'm not let you wallow in your misery when the world is fucking ending and you still stubbornly refuse to put down your pride. I'm not leaving!"

She walked over to Lena's hidden break room and poured the scotch down the sink.

"But I-"

"No. Listen, you dumbass. You've been through some horrible, messed-up shit. Your brother almost destroyed the world multiple times. Your mother was a narcissistic fucking psychopath. I cannot even begin to understand how you feel most of the time. Having every move scrutinized by the world, feeling like you can't trust anyone."

"I trust you."

Sam paused. "I-What?"

"I trust you, Sam. You may be the only person who I can be myself around right now. And-And I know that isn't fair to you, me having constant breakdowns. I keep you from your life and Ruby and I hate it-"

"Lena!" Sam takes her hand. "You can always tell me about it. Everything. And I won't lie, helping you through your trauma isn't easy, especially since you refuse to meet a therapist. But that doesn't mean you can keep everything to yourself. It means that your pain, it matters to me. It is a piece of you that you have shared with me, and it isn't going to fucking evaporate the second I know about it. You matter. Your trauma matters. To me, and to everyone at the DEO. I want to help you." She inhaled deeply.

"And I can't promise that everything is going to be fine, I don't even know if we'll exist an hour from now, but I can tell you this. You don't deserve all this pain. That doesn't mean you don't have it. You are not responsible for what your family did, and you are not responsible for your mother's death. You don't deserve to die alone and at odds with everyone you love."

"Sam, but I-"

"And I'm sorry, I know Kara and the others messed up. But they love you. They are your family now. And I can't watch you punish yourself over this. Lena, it's time to let go."

Tears lined Lena's eyes. "I can't do it, Sam!"

"You can."

"I can't! I trusted Kara with everything. I shared every piece of me with her. Love and family were supposed to cure me! I made myself completely powerless, I was vulnerable, and she threw it back at my face. I cannot make that mistake again!"

"It's not fucking magic, Lena! Love isn't a cure-all. It doesn't mean everything bad that ever happened disappears! It only means that you aren't alone in your fight. Family and friendship, it takes work! You have to see them, and they have to see you. And Kara and the others, they love you!"

"If they fucking love me so much, why do they keep hurting me? Why am I the only one who gets lied to?!"

"It not that fucking simple! Everyone there has their own stuff. We're fucking terrified all the time. And now everything we ever feared is happening, and we can't even fucking be together!"

"What, now you're on their side?!" Lena heard the words spill out her head as messily as she felt, drenched in bitterness and insecurity. "Should've known that you would turn on me too."

Regret fills her immediately, but Lena drops Sam's hand like a searing pan.

Fuck.

"How can you think that?" Sam's voice was quiet now. Her eyes, Lena realized, were also filled with tears.

This is it. This is the moment I chase away the last person who's ever cared for me. One last screw over that will be wiped after the comet hits. One more mistake in my endless list.

Sam raised her arms. Lena reflexively leaned back, her heart hammering against her chest. Shit. She knew how this goes. She's seen enough fights between Lillian and Lionel end. She could hear the resonating crack from almost two decades ago. Lionel might have loved Lena, but he wasn't all that kind to Lillian.

You deserve this. You failed. You failed to protect yourself, failed to protect the universe. You are never going to be enough. You failed both your families, you failed yourself.

Warmth burst around her. Sam wrapped her arms around Lena.

What in the world... why was Sam hugging her?

Shit, this feels nice.

"Sam?"

"There are no sides, Lena. That's the whole point. You are a part of this family, and we will fight like hell to keep it that way." Sam stroked her hair. "We aren't perfect, we are flawed, we hurt each other. But we aren't alone. We love fiercely, and we have each other's back. We take care of our own. And you are one of us. We love you. We are here if you accept us."

Lena sniffled against Sam's shirt. A fierce rush of gratitude rushed through her. Sam has always been her rock, her constant for almost six years now. She's had her back so many times. Her best friend.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Sam." Lena sobbed. "Shit, it's too late. I can't fix everything. I messed up. I messed the whole thing up-"

"Hey. There's still time." Sam drew back and swiped at her eyes. "You can still call Alex. We have... seven minutes left."

Lena nodded, biting her lip.

"Thank you, Sam."

She shakily dialed her phone.

"Alex?"

***

"Hi! Aunt Lena!" A little bundle of joy crawled into Lena's lap and gave her a hug.

Ruby. She always meant a lot to Lena. Maybe because Lena never really had an aunt while she grew up. Maybe because her hugs were made of pure love; because Ruby is the most wonderful little human Lena ever met. Maybe because there was no tension, no tears involved. Ruby felt like hugging Lena, so she did.

It was the first time Lena cracked a smile in over a year.

"Hello, little monkey. Did you eavesdrop our whole fight?" She mussed her hair.

"Hey! I'm fourteen now. Not so little anymore." She carefully flattened her hair down. "And I know what swear words are, Auntie."

"Do you, now?"

"Yes!" She huffed. "Mom said she's making Mac and Cheese. She said your fridge was full of atrocious rabbit fodder and she hid about seventy percent of your kale." Ruby's voice dropped low and she whispered conspiratorially. "It's behind the eggs, don't tell her said that. Not that we'd be needing it anymore." She glanced sadly at the red skies.

"Are you okay, little monkey?"

"Aunt Lena, is there really no way to destroy the comet?" Ruby asked her.

Lena's heart broke. At that moment, she would've given anything to be back in her lab three weeks ago when they first found the comet. To have found a way out of this catastrophe.

She smiled sadly at Ruby. "I'm sorry, monkey. There's nothing we can do."

How do you tell a child that you failed her, that the entire world was gonna burn? That they were all going to die?

"It's okay, Aunt Lena. I love you." She kissed Lena on the cheek.

The elevator bell dinged and Lena could hear the doors open with a hiss. Her's mouth got just a little dry.

"I'm going to go help mom with the cheese. You should talk to them."

"Wait, Ruby-" she was gone. Great.

Lena exhaled shakily and got to her feet.

Here goes. Oh god. Why did I do this? This is a bad idea, shit. Shit, shit, shit. They still hate me why did I call them, they- Alex.

It was Alex. Suddenly, it wasn't the monsters that she was facing. It was Alex and Kelly and Nia and Brainy. Her family.

Alex stumbled forward first. "Lena, I-" She interrupted herself by crashing into Lena-"I'm so fucking sorry. I should've told you when the whole thing with Reign happened, but then Kara told me that she had to work things out between you and Supergirl, and then I lost my memories for a while-" Lena realized with a jerk that Alex was sobbing against her shoulder.

"-I feel like such an awful friend." Alex's voice cracked.

"Ale-Alex! Hey, it's okay." And for the first time, Lena really meant it. "I'm sorry too. I just felt-"

"Betrayed. I know. I'm sorry." She repeated, stepping away from Lena. She gave Lena a small smile. Smaller, but much like the one she gave Lena the first time they met in Kara's apartment. Tired, but it gives off so much warmth that Lena could feel it. It reminded Lena of all the times they spent together. All the days when they made small explosions in her lab and teamed up for game night. When Alex took her to self-defense classes and showed her fancy tricks with her guns. She was Lena's best friend. She is.

"Brainy, Nia." God, it felt good to- Lena couldn't even describe it. She missed this. Her friendship with Brainy was one of the few things she treasured most in the world. He was the only one who could ever match her intellect, her best lab partner. Her friend. And to the lonely twelve-year-old genius from the Luthor family, that was everything. And Nia was one of the bravest people Lena knew, unafraid to be herself and face the world. Fighting every day for the greater good. And she was more than that, she was the one who taught Lena that she didn't have to hide who she was. Lena will be a Luthor her entire life. She just had to embrace it. Or as Nia had framed, quite eloquently; 'own it.'

Kelly, and her crazy therapy skills. Lena regretted not spending more time with her. She was such a wonderful person. Kelly was the silent rock of their group, Lena could see that now. She was always there and she knew exactly what to say. In Lena's eyes, she was magical. So determined in supporting her friends through everything. The sweetest, most bad-ass person out of them all.

Shit, Lena was crying now.

"No more little boxes, Lena." Brainy whispered in her ear, and she giggled. Even Lena was surprised by that.

He was right. No more boxes. She has three minutes left to live and she wasn't going to crush herself with the weight of her stupid boxes.

There was still one more person-

"Kara. I'm sorry Lena, she- couldn't make it." Alex squeezed her shoulder. "Barry's Earth- they don't have a Kara. She can live there and not disintegrate. I told her to go with him. I'm sorry, Lena."

Lena's lungs filled with lead.

"Yes, of course." Lena's voice sounded far away even to herself. "She deserves to live there, in peace. I'm sorry, excuse me."

Something akin to panic swelled over her. Anxiety? Sorrow? Feelings were not Lena's strong suit. Panic attacks, unfortunately, she's already dealt with. She backed away from the room, almost knocking Sam over in the process. "Uh- Bathroom."

The door slammed behind her, and Lena splashed her face with cold water.

She would never get to apologize, she would never even get to see Kara again. Her best friend. Her soulmate. And now, she would die without Kara knowing- knowing that-

Because Lena only ever hated herself. She could never,ever hate Kara.

She curled into a ball on the floor, trying to physically hold herself together so she didn't fall apart. She couldn't fall apart, not right now. Her heart was racing and her breathing was short and distressed.

"Lena? Open the door." Alex's voice, carried in through the door.

"I-I'll be right out!" Even Lena knew they won't buy it. She could hear her voice crack with emotion.

"Lena? You don't have to go through this alone, I just told you that." Her voice was soft, and Lena chose to listen.

"I know it's hard. I know you miss her, and I can't imagine what it must feel after everything that happened between you and Kara. It was difficult for me too. I'm leaving her alone, just like everyone else in her life. I'm leaving her and her world is ending again, and we can't do anything about it. I hate it. I broke my promise. She doesn't deserve this pain, and you don't either."

The door creaked open. Suddenly it was Alex surprised by the hug.

"Alex, I'm so sorry."

"Lena." Alex wrapped her arms around the small brunette. "Trust me, she knows. She knows that you love her."

Lena sniffed and pulled back.

"That's just it, Alex." Lena's voice grew softer. "She doesn't know that I'm in love with her."

"You're in love with me?" A small, hopeful voice echoed from the back of the room.

The blonde superhero stepped forward with the sunny smile Lena loved. "Sorry I'm late but, I bought emergency Potstickers." She waved a bag at the rest of them.

"Kara-" The word was out of her mouth before she realized it, but then it was Lena in Kara's arms and nothing else mattered. She buried her head in the Kryptonian's shoulders.

"Hey." Kara tucked a strand of hair behind Lena's mismatched eyes, and Lena fucking melted. "You know, I've been doing some research." Her voice was low and breathy.

"Oh yeah?" Lena's eyes shined as bright as the red skies outside. Kara thought she could see the whole galaxy in her them.

"I think I finally know what Quantum Entanglement means." She rested her forehead against Lena's and smiled softly.

Lena's heart was racing. She reached up and caught Kara's lips in hers.

"I love you too, Lena."

***

"System error. Terminal order simulation failed."

Lena gasped and fell to her knees.

"Redirect operations to internal systems." She gasped, tears streaming down her face.

Just a few more, a few more minutes. Please. I need to hold her. I need to be held by her.

"Simulation failed."

"No! No, no, no. Please. Try again." Lena fumbled with her screen.

"Simulation failed."

"TRY AGAIN, GODDAMMIT." Lena cried, her voice full of raw emotion.

"Simulation failed. Shutting down. Thirty seconds left in final countdown."

"NO! I SAID FUCKING TRY AGAIN!"

"Twenty-five seconds."

The air was getting hotter. She could already see the streaks of green and red raining down from above outside Kara's window.

"Nooo." She sobbed. "Please, I need to see them. I need to hold her. Please." She crumpled on the floor, holding Kara's green hoodie in her hand. The last piece of her Lena had. The worst part is, Kara wasn't dead. Just lost forever, to Lena.

"Ten seconds."

"Please."

"Five seconds."

"I don't want to be alone." She whispered.

Here's my twitter, go yell at me. https://twitter.com/Keroessa24

#supergirl #supercorp #lena luthor #karlena #kara danvers #sam arias #alex danvers #reigncorp #agentcorp #angst with a sad ending #world ending #apocalypse #lena luthor needs a hug #major character death #post s5 #depression #suicidal thoughts

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catgrump · 4 years ago

Note

oumota 42 for the angst/fluff perhaps?

Alright gang I’m diving into so many of my AUs for these requests it’s not even funny

WELCOME TO THEATRE AU! This ended up being a pretty decent length too lol I worked on it all day so I hope y’all like it!!!

For set-up: Kaito & Kokichi are both studying acting in my specific Theatre AU

🌻🌻🌻

Kaito looked at his watch and sighed. Where the hell is he?

The emptiness of the rehearsal room was daunting. A tiny room of painted cinderblock walls, cold linoleum tile floors, fluorescent lights, soundproofing boards, and empty furniture made of simple shapes.

Kaito had gotten to the space early, for once. He barely slept last night since this ungodly hour was the only time he and his scene partner could get where they were both free.

He leaned forward on the bench. The metal back was getting uncomfortable.

He looked back at his watch. Now he’s five minutes late. Is that like him? He barely paid attention to him in class. It’s not like he chose Kokichi to be his scene partner; they’re doing this for a grade.

“Sorry I’m late!” A sing-songy voice chirped through the door as it opened.

Kaito looked up and saw Kokichi: just who he expected. He wasn’t expecting him to be so chipper before 9 AM, though. How could anyone? Kokichi adjusted the strap of his messenger bag on his shoulder, causing the paper bag he was holding to rustle

“It’s fine,” It wasn’t, but this wasn’t a fight Kaito wanted to pick.

“Hey, your hair looks nice,” Kokichi told him as he gathered his stuff on a rehearsal cube

Impulsively, Kaito ran his fingers through his hair to try and remember what he did to it today— that’s right: nothing. He brushed through it and walked out the door because it was so damn early he didn’t have time to style it.

Confused and embarrassed— and confused why he felt embarrassed— Kaito replied “Yeah, uh, thanks. You too.”

You too? Where did that come from? Kokichi turned to him with just as much surprise as Kaito felt. “You think so?”

And now Kaito was on the spot. Maybe it was sleep deprivation, or maybe it was hunger, but he didn’t think he was lying. Nothing wrong with noticing a guy’s hair looks nice tied back, right? Just a simple compliment. Gritting his teeth, Kaito just nodded back in response.

He kept his focus on Kokichi as he explained why he was late. Kaito didn’t really care that much. They were both here now. They need to rehearse this damn scene.

But as Kokichi was talking about the line at Bagel Bros being longer than he expected, Kaito noticed how... clean he looked. Does he always dress sharp? A cardigan over a button down and some jeans that fit him... really well. He looked down at the hoodie and sweatpants he chose for himself and felt underdressed.

Kokichi put the paper bag on top of a different rehearsal cube and picked it up, waddling toward Kaito with his script dangling from his mouth

Kaito furrowed his brow, “Sure Kokichi, I’ll help you,” He sarcastically remarked at his obvious precariousness

Kokichi moved the paper bag into his lap as he sat down and put the script beside him. “Oh if I wanted your help, I would’ve asked.”

Well shit, seems like Kokichi can dish it as well as take it. Kaito shook his head and smirked as the bag rustled some more. Kokichi reached his hand inside and pulled out a bagel wrapped in a piece of parchment paper. “Here,” he shoved it in Kaito’s direction, “I wasn’t sure what kind you’d like so I just got a plain one.”

Kaito was caught off guard. He gently took the bagel from Kokichi’s hand, somehow worried he’d snatch it back like it was a prank. “You didn’t need to—“

“Oh then next time I won’t; thanks for saving me the meal points!”

As Kaito took a bite, Kokichi continued, “Maybe next time you can buy me breakfast,” did he just wink?

Kaito swallowed. Hard. “Hehe, just a little joke!” Kokichi chuckled as he took another bagel out of the bag and took a bite himself

For some reason, Kaito felt like that wasn’t entirely true. But he couldn’t think about that right now. He grabbed his script from beside him and opened it up. “So, how do you wanna do this?”

Through bites of food, Kokichi replied, “Let’s read through the lines and if we come up with any immediate blocking ideas, pitch them.”

“Sounds good to me.”

They read through the scene relatively quickly. No one spoke up about any ideas. They just delivered the lines. It’s only a three-minute scene, so it’s not like a read-through was a waste of time.

Kokichi chuckled as he flipped back to the first page. “You know, I really wish I could play Don. I mean I totally get why it’s you; I look way too young.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

Kokichi looked at Kaito, dumbfounded. It was almost insulting. “Did you read the whole play?”

Apparently the look on Kaito’s face was enough of an answer. “You didn’t,” he sighed, “Great, now I have to explain it to you.”

“Hey, I’ll pick up a copy as soon as—“

“No, this is important. We need the context of everything so we can actually block the scene. We aren’t just going to half-ass it.”

Kokichi took a deep breath and straightened his posture. He looked really serious. “So Tennessee Williams is Don. When he was in his late 20s, he fell in love with a dancer. That’s Dick. But “Dick”, AKA a man named Kip, didn’t reciprocate his feelings. So he wrote this play to cope. Like a catharsis. The whole thing screams 1940s, but I felt for Don. Knowing the object of your affection is just out of reach.”

He paused. He was looking directly at Kaito. Kaito desperately tried to read his face. Why was he so difficult to figure out?

Kokichi laughed under his breath. “Not that you’d know anything about that.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Kokichi smirked

“Okay, so,” Kaito tried to guide the conversation back to the work they needed to do, “I guess we need to talk boundaries? If you’re saying that my character is,” the next words were unexpectedly a knot in his throat, “in love with you— your character... we’re probably gonna like, make contact, right?”

Kokichi still had that smirk on his face. He stood up with his script in hand, and started strolling around. Kaito followed him with his eyes, “Yeah, I can see Dick leading him on,” Kaito suddenly felt like he was caught in some kind of game, “Like at this part where he starts talking about Don’s eyes for the first time.”

Kaito had to crane his neck as Kokichi made his way behind him. And in the blink of an eye, Kaito felt an arm wrapped around his shoulders. “You don’t listen to me,” Kokichi read from the script, “you look at me all the time with those crazy eyes of yours but don’t understand what I say.”

Flustered feeling the waffle-knit fabric against his body, Kaito didn’t think to grab his own script. He leaned in to read Kokichi’s, making their heads touch, “I could if you said what you mean,” was Kaito’s next line

“I mean just what I say,” Kaito could feel Kokichi’s breath on his skin as they continued to read

“But what you say makes no more sense than— than hieroglyphics make sense to a man that knows just English.” Kaito had no problem reading these lines just a few moments ago. Why is he suddenly so tense now that Kokichi is this close?

And then he suddenly pulled away. “Well— like I said, I was joking,” Kokichi bounded away, embodying the dancer he was playing, but dropped character before continuing, “Was that okay?”

Kaito swallowed as he looked at the confident smirk Kokichi had on his face. “Y-yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah that’s fine.”

“Oh good,” Kokichi smiled, “I could hug you all day; you’re stronger than I imagined.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t worry about it! How about we take it from the top?”

Prompt from This List: feel free to send a request!

Tip jar available on Ko-Fi if you enjoyed it 💛

#I brought out a collection of plays for this #like I read a fuckin book #the play is The Parade by Tennessee Williams btw #danganronpa #danganronpa fanfiction #danganronpa fic #drv3 kaito #kaito momota #danganronpa kaito #kaito x kokichi #oumota #kokichi oma #kokichi ouma #drv3 kokichi #danganronpa kokichi #kokichi x kaito #danganronpa theatre au

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oftenderweapons · 4 years ago

Text

Love Talk - Namjoon

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 6.1k words

Genre: romance, minor fluff, mild smut

Rating: suggested 18+

Hello cuties! Welcome to the Love Talk scenarios.

In these small series we’ll see how the guys handle the turn-ons turn-offs conversation, talking about their previous relationships, kinks and limits.

In this first piece we’ll see how our perfect leader plays his cards with his not-yet girlfriend, fondly nicknamed Vixen. It’s their fifth date and Vixen meets him at hers for a lovely homecooked meal. Expect the situation to escalate.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Consumption of alcohol (wine), swearing, toxic past relationships. Discussion of sexual topics, [DDLG/daddy kink, oral, voyeurism, sex toys and impact play, restraints (handcuffs and manacles, spreader bars), lingerie fetish, discipline and rules, mind games, pornography, slight roleplay, sensation play, edging, orgasm deprivation and control, bruising and marking kink, blindfolds. Mentions of angst about Vixen’s past relationship. Mentions of a series of hard limits (hardcore bdsm, heavy pain kink, knife play, electric play, suspension play, water sports, degradation and humiliation, chastity devices, infantilization, dubious consent, asphyxiation, triple penetration, touch deprivation). Just in case you didn’t know already, Vixen is a brat and Joon is the smoothest brat tamer to exist (Can you imagine him sweet talking and tricking his brat into obedience? I. Am. Shaking.)

Wordcount: 6.1k (listen, these two flirt a lot, they like talking to each other and Joon could dirty talk for days. Anything less than 5k would be an insult to them and I GOT CARRIED AWAY) Also, here is my Masterlist

Do you want to read what happened next? You can find it here!

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

He didn’t expect it. Yeah, last time you’d made out in the backseat, the driver hopefully uninterested in your anthem, but that doesn’t mean he expected you to ask him out. Usually he was the one texting first and asking out.

International, Korean or fusion? The text read.

Are you thinking of bringing me lunch?

I’m thinking of asking you out this Saturday. If you’re free, of course.

Picnic at Han river? He asked, hopeful.

They say it’s gonna be stormy. Dinner at mine. I’ll cook.

You can cook? His computer went on screensaver mode. He was too caught up texting. He was already done with the demo anyway.

You’ll see. You teased.

He smirked. Then it’s a deal. Want me to bring wine and dessert?

Just wine, you wrote before adding a flirty smirk.

He was blushing. You’re so naughty. He replied. A pause. Cook your signature dish.

Don’t get ideas. You texted back cheekily.

That was nice. However, a few seconds later you found yourself questioning how long it would take you to lose your cool and throw yourself at him. The night was going to be disastrous.

That’s how you found a drenched Namjoon on your doorstep the following Saturday. “Sorry, my umbrella broke on the way. I’m a mess.” He spoke, checking how bad he looked, the words spilling out of his mouth lightning fast. With an apologetic smile he looked up at you, his jaw going slack, a little shocked. “Wow.”

He noticed you had dolled yourself up. You blushed and thanked him for the compliment quickly, your main interest focused on taking care of his situation. You quickly dragged him in, already fussing over him before he got cold, your apprehensive side taking control.

You smiled at him and asked him to wait for a towel. When you came back you noticed he was wearing a thin cotton t-shirt, now perfectly sticking to his skin. You were ready for self-ignition. Fortunately, you managed to find a spot for his dripping jacket and tell him to get comfy. He was already barefoot, his sandals on your entry mat. You offered him your oversized sleeping t-shirt and left as he dried himself and got dressed.

“Let me see if I have a pair of sweats for you.” You came back a few minutes later with some basketball shorts you didn't even know you had. “Sorry, I don’t have boxers. You could use one of my thongs, if you fancy those.” You smirked, giving him an awkward thumbs-up. He snickered at that, shaking his head.

God, he felt fond of you already.

After a few minutes he was sitting at the kitchen table, looking like boyfriend material in his exceedingly domestic outfit, and fidgeting with his hands. Previously you had led him to the bathroom, giving him space to change and asking him to give you his stuff so you could put it in the dryer. In the meantime he had noticed the small details in your bathroom. Your pink toothbrush. Your sleeping robe hanging from the heater. And a small collection of delicate lace — too delicate for machine washing and drying — hanging from a small rack.

Fuck.

“It’s almost ready. I hope you like lasagna. It’s a classic.” You called from the stove.

“That’s nice.” He admitted. “It feels amazing in here. Smells good. And it’s nice, toasty. Great autumn vibes.”

He was probably talking out of nerves. He should stop. He was painfully close to slapping himself.

“Thank you. I know you like hardwood. And that’s exactly the vibe I go for.” You said referring to your furniture.

“Your house is truly lovely, ____.” He spotted more details, trying to ignore the rumbling of his stomach, both from nerves and the mouth-watering scent coming from the oven.

“I’ll give you a tour later. Don’t expect a lot, though. It’s just the living room, the studio and the bedroom. Other than the bathroom and kitchen, that is.”

Bedroom. Hell. Keep calm, Namjoon, she said don’t get ideas. “I’d love to.”

Dinner was easy, you talked about his job and your job, and how you’d moved to Seoul and found that incredible, small apartment in such an exclusive neighbourhood.

Together with conversation flowed the wine. You both were red cheeked by the end of the meal and your head felt a bit light when you stood up. He noticed and smirked kindly. “Need help?” A hand sweetly supporting your waist.

You were standing in front of him now and you couldn’t help but notice how his head reached your navel while he was sitting. “Have I already told you you look breathtaking tonight?”

You blushed. “Maybe.” You stroked his hair back, the gesture incredibly intimate. He closed his eyes and pushed his head against your hands, inviting you to do that again. You obliged. “And you look ravishing in my pink and frilly sleeping shirt.” You joked.

“Yeah I feel incredibly cute. But don’t jump my bones, please. Right now this place feels like the dragon’s den.” He confessed. “And you keep luring me in.”

“I might eat you. Be careful.” You teased. “This dragon can be very hungry.”

He looked up at you and smiled, his eyes crincling. “That sounds amazing.”

You took your chance and poked his dimple, then you grabbed his hands and removed them from your waist, getting ready for dessert. You started collecting the dishes and bringing them to the dishwasher, leaving only the wine and glasses on the table. As you turned and bent he let his eyes run down your tight-fitting dress, biting his lip as he noticed the lack of panty lines on your behind. “Do I get the dessert now?” He growled quietly. You turned your head, pretty sure that he was enjoying the view, which you had no intention ruining.

“Have you been a good boy?” You questioned playfully.

“I’m always good.” He replied “Maybe not a good boy, but good for sure.”

“You can go in the living room, we’ll eat dessert there.” You directed him.

He let his hand caress your lower back, catching your attention. “Need me to take the wine and glasses there?” He asked.

“Yes, thanks, sweetie.” You whispered, somehow entranced by the small touch.

You were starting to get intimate and it felt right. Comfortable. You took a few minutes to yourself, cleaning up the kitchen and loading the dishwasher, then trying to get dessert ready, your movements slower both because of the wine and because you felt like you needed more time to get psychologically ready for him and your bantering.

Meanwhile he reached the other room and fumbled around a little, searching for the light switch. Suddenly the place felt comfy. And dangerous. The lights were low, the sofa looked soft and inviting with a big woolen comforter thrown over it.

You were well-read. He knew that already, but noticing the big library and the books laying a little bit everywhere really made him wonder how many things you knew. He put down the glasses and bottle and explored, careful of where he put his feet.

You had Korean books and English ones. A few in one or multiple languages he didn’t know. On your wall there were a few movie posters. Studio Ghibli. The Grand Budapest Hotel. Lost in Translation. Lolita.

He knew that one. He would ask about that later.

Moving back to the library he noticed other books he knew. The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Again, Lolita. The Memoirs of a Geisha. The Delta of Venus. A thorough guide to the language of sex… A thorough what?

“You found my forbidden stash.” You asked him, propped against the door jamb, dessert in one hand, spoons in the other.

“If it’s forbidden, then why are you displaying it so openly.” He asked, moving away and innocently sitting on one edge of the sofa, legs closed, trying to occupy as little space as possible.

“No one visits here, usually. And why should I hide being interested in erotism?” You laid the heavy bowl on the table. “It’s tiramisu. It’s coffee-based. I thought you would like it. If you’re bold enough I might tell you the story of it.”

“Come on, try me.” He teased.

“It was invented in Italy. It’s said that prostitutes would make it to reinvigorate their clients.” You took a spoon and dipped it in before bringing it to your mouth.

He laughed. “Really.”

“It’s a quite popular legend.” You smiled.

“Did you learn that in The thorough guide to the language of sex?” He asked flirtily, his ears blushing.

“I learnt that during my cuisine lessons.” You replied matter-of-factly.

“And what did you learn from that interesting book?” He wondered, keeping eye contact as he fed himself some cake.

“A lot of things, actually.” You lowered your eyes, playing hard to get.

“And have you ever used them?” He asked, his curiosity now poked and fully awakened.

“Are you asking me if I’ve had sex before?” You questioned.

He shook his head. “I assumed you have.” He stopped, embarrassed. “I mean, you’re in your mid-twenties and you mentioned having a couple past relationships.”

“Correct. Even though those factors are actually insignificant. But yeah, I’ve done it before.” You shrugged. “So have you, right?”

“Yes. I’ve had three committed relationships. A few casual flings. That’s it.” He admitted, completely unbothered by the fact.

You looked at him, swallowing your mouthful before asking: “Now we’re gonna talk bodycounts and turn-ons, right?”

“Only if you want to, darling.” His voice became soft, caring. He was your boy now.

“Then yeah. Well, let’s go through some history.” You poured some wine in both glasses and took a sip of yours. “Lost my virginity at 19. First serious boyfriend. He was a lot older than me. A lot. Like a loooot.”

“How old?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Like… twelve years...” You said, as if it were a question.

“He was… thirty-one?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah...” You exhaled.

“And why did it end?” he asked.

“We were together for two years. Then he wanted family. I wanted career. Seems fair.” You told briefly.

“He must have been important, then.” He assumed out loud.

“We’re actually still friends. He has a family. But he really made me what I am. Actually, he helped me grow up and past some traumas.” You admitted with a smile.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, again warm and comforting.

“The usual. Daddy issues.” You giggled.

He bit his lip anxiously. Now what?

“I was overly responsible from a young age. I wanted rules, restrictions. Attention from my parents. I was always wound up tight and with no one taking care of me.” You shrugged. “He helped me find an outlet and discover how my mind works. I realised sometimes I just need someone to take care of me when I'm too tired to do it myself.”

“I noticed the Lolita theme. I was going to ask you about that, honestly. Is that what you’re into?” He asked, tiptoeing around the huge black hole that was calling to him. Asking you to get into his lap and then praise and cuddle you until the little girl eventually came out to play.

“Are you asking me if I have a daddy kink or if I like owning multiple versions of the same book in different languages?” You asked, putting some humour in the heavy conversation you would be diving into shortly.

“Obviously the different versions.” He shrugged with a teasing smile.

“Yes.” You took another small sip. “To both of those.”

He felt like he needed to stretch his neck. “I’m glad this came up.”

“I’m pretty sure you have one yourself, don’t you?” You licked your lips before taking some more dessert.

He took a sip of his wine. “Yes. I think.”

“From one to ten, how far up?” You asked, eyes sparkling bright.

“I would say eight. Maybe nine.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself. You’re safe with me. I was hoping that by now you knew I wouldn’t ever judge you.” You murmured, a pout on your lip.

“A solid nine. But I won’t go higher up. There’s some kinky stuff out there that I’m seriously not into.”

“What’s that?”

“Stuff like pacifiers and drawings and plushies and playing tea party. That’s not me.”

“No, I’m not into infantilization either.” You agreed. “Honestly I’m more of a brat than a baby girl.” Now that the ball was rolling it was easier getting to the core of things, using terms and explaining kinks. The initial dive is always traumatic, but now you only had to swim. Metaphorically speaking.

“I could tell.” he smirked. “Too teasing and independent to keep your head low and say “yes, sir”, aren’t you?”

“You got me.” You lifted your eyes to him, batting your lashes a couple times. “And where’s the fun in that? The fun is in the chase. All the sweet talking and the manhandling that lead to surrender and conquest. I need to be won, earned, deserved. Of course I will bend, but I want you to show me how much you want me, how far you’re willing to go to get me. If it suits my taste, I will give in.”

He swallowed and took another spoonful of tiramisu. You were getting to his head faster than the wine. “So you’re a brat.” He stated, then licking his lip.

You nodded.

“What else are you into?” He asked, his stare dark and serious.

You subtly clenched your legs. “I like the fight. I like the sensationof my partner overpowering me. But I also like feeling loved and taken care of.”

“That’s right and natural, darling.” He supported you.

You felt your body caving in slowly, the desire in his eyes felt intoxicating and the sweet understanding and tenderness oozing from his mouth made you want to please him immensely. You were already yielding without him even touching you. “I like rules.”

“Oh, you do, sweetie?” He lured you in, inviting you to share more details.

“They make me feel like the other person is giving me boundaries to protect me.” You confessed.

“I like those too.” He diminished the power imbalance between the two of you, showing you his more delicate side. “I like giving them. And I like receiving them. I also feel like the other person is teaching me how to respect them. How to love them right. And is also indirectly protecting me from harm.”

“That’s right.” You agreed. “That’s exactly how I feel.” You smiled shyly.

“Do you like punishment, in any forms?” He asked, his voice so delicate it felt like a butterfly landing on the tip of your nose.

You blushed and exhaled. “I like spankings.” You bit your lips, hiding your face in your hands.

He caressed your hands tenderly. “I’d love to spank your perfect ass, Vixen.”

You giggled at the nickname. He’d used it at the end of your fourth date, when your hand had started playing with his belt.

Mood lightened, you lifted your head, smiling brightly. “I like it barehanded. It’s my favourite. But I also like the paddle and the hairbrush.”

“Not afraid of bruises?” A shiver ran down his spine, even though his blood was boiling.

“Not really.” You took more dessert. He stared at the spoon as it disappeared in your mouth, your lips latching and sucking at the silverware. His eyes then moved to your fingers as they held the spoon elegantly but energetically. “Actually the more the better. But tell me about you.”

He took in a deep breath before exhaling quickly. “I like bruising. Of different sorts. As I said, I’d love to cover your behind in those, if you’ll ever allow me to, that is.” He put down the spoon after he realised he was gesticulating with it. Dangerous. He was getting dumber. “This might sound very horny teenager but I like hickeys. Loads of them. Like marking. I really like marking.”

Your attention sparked up. He could claim you like that whenever he wanted to.

“And other stuff like biting. Licking. A lot of mouth activity in general.” He admitted, toying with his hands and shifting in his seat.

You couldn’t contain a small squeal and a giggle. “Oral fixation. Sounds nice. I have that too. Official member of the oral squad.” You grinned as you saw the gleam in his eyes. You took a small pause analysing your next move. “However, I can assume from your size that you’re a lot.” You gestured to his shoulders and height.

He only opened his mouth, raising his eyebrows and averting his gaze.

“And my gag reflex sucks. So I can only guarantee you I’ll try. Enthusiastically. Over and over.”

He felt like evaporating. “The only thing that counts is that you’re okay with receiving.” He waited for your answer expectantly, eyebrows raised, heartbeat galloping.

“Yes. Anytime.” You deadpanned. Eyes already closing at the thought of his mouth between your legs. “But don’t expect me to be shy about it. I will ask for it. Repeatedly. Until I’m a blabbering mess.”

He could make you a blabbering mess right in that second. He took a deep breath. Don’t start thinking of that.

“Come on, say it.” You flirted.

He laughed his big old grandpa laugh. “Say what?” He looked at you, happy and excited.

“Come on, you’ve admitted it to national tv but won’t talk to me about it.”

“Oh, you mean porn.” He blushed to the tip of his ears. “Fuck. I’m so fucking dumb.”

“Just clumsy. It’s lovely.” You complimented. “It’s a nice contrast to the hot daddy look you have eighty percent of the time. But don’t get distracted. Talk to me about your voyeurism kink.” You spurred him on. You needed to unlock that part of him. Craved it.

“Okay, fine. but we’re getting back to the hot daddy part later.”

“I’ll make sure of that.” You quipped. God, the chemistry was getting insane.

"Honestly, back then I used to watch it a lot more. Now I'm sort of… Lazier. It's so difficult finding what I like, and actually liking it the way it is carried out."

"Like, you're not sure you like how they're doing it." You suggested.

He clicked his tongue in agreement. "Yes. And it just lacks that… Spark. The intimacy, you know."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I one night stands aren’t it for me. I need to build that trust.” You admitted.

"I feel the same. And I get it, sex is amazing and everything, but only when you do it right. Like — with the right person. Someone that understands you and someone you're free enough to do it with. Someone you know, mentally and emotionally."

"Sex that comes from knowing and understanding is so much more intense." You said with a dreamy tone.

He looked at your face, longing blatant on your lineaments. He wished he could give you that. He wished he could take it from you. "That's the right word. Intense. You know, like the way lovers look at each other, like ‘yeah, I know your tits look great but you know what looks even greater? The way your chest flushes when you're close and your eyelids flutter and you subconsciously wet your lip with that little, oh-so-familiar flick of tongue’."

You felt your body soften at the words, secretly answering to his description. "You just explained intimacy." You agreed, nodding along and picking up a spoonful of dessert.

"That's why I watch a lot more amateur stuff these days. I would never have the audacity to film anything — too risky for my taste — but I like watching, at least."

"And how do you feel about watching… Live?" You asked, curious but also guarded.

"You mean watching my partner as she touches herself?" He asked, eyes blown wide.

"Yes." You said, shrugging.

He licked his lips and gulped, though his mouth was awfully dry. Wine. That's what he needed.

As he downed a large sip, you waited for his answer expectantly, almost ready to change topic when he started talking.

"Yeah." His voice was deeper now and an obscure part of you stood to attention, your hearing enhanced to capture any order he was ready to give you. None came. "I would love to. I love looking at a confident woman showing off her lingerie — and don’t think I forgot about your little collection.” He licked his lips and parted his legs, trying to ease his discomfort. “Sadly, I think that the vision would be an exercise in restraint, since I have zero patience and I can't stand being provoked. But I would watch, were she to touch herself with bare hands or with… Toys."

Lord, save me. You thought, your legs squeezing tighter.

This time it seemed Namjoon had noticed, although he did not show any reaction except for a cocky smirk, which he hid readily.

"If it's such an exercise in patience maybe some restraints could help you rein yourself in." You suggested.

"Being tied up by you as I watch you take off your lovely, expensive lingerie set and then watch you touch yourself? Is that what you're asking me?"

"A girl can dream." You teased with a cheshire grin.

"Good thing dreams do sometimes come true." He suggested, an eyebrow raised, mouth quirked to the side, panty-dropping dimple in tow.

You smiled and moved half an inch closer to him.

"You said once you did it a lot more. How much then and how much now?

"Well, back then I did it at least once a day or every two days. Now it's three times a week, roughly." He looked just slightly ashamed, but not really. You couldn't quite decypher his mind in that second. "May I ask about your… Needs."

Your brow creased, fingers entangling. "If I watch stuff? Or how often?"

He looked stuck somewhere in his brain and you tried helping him out. "Yeah."

Both, then. "Not films. Usually it's just pictures or short clips. When I'm especially needy I might listen to audios—”

"Of people having sex?"

You nodded. "Yeah, or just having some alone fun-time. "

God, he wanted one of those. Of you. "That sounds interesting."

"Sounds interesting in more ways than one, indeed." You offered back with an innuendo.

Your silver tongue and quick brains would be the end of him. "Talking with you is like a dangerous tango. Like that scene from Mr and Mrs Jones."

You laughed. "I'll have to catch up on that one."

"We could watch it together, next time." He suggested.

"I'd love to." You were sure that watching the film would probably be the last thing you’ll do. If you did it at all… "About frequency…" You took a pause, trying to verbalise decently what you felt wasn't decent at all. "I must say I'm quite high maintenance."

He poked your side, leaning across the sofa, but staying respectfully two feet away from you. He wanted to see if you would come closer. "Don't be shy. You made me grade my daddiness, now grade how needy you are from one to ten."

"Nine?" You were getting panicked. "Ten?"

"How often, baby?" His voice was so deep and husky it made your stomach shake with the reverberations of it.

"Like normally at least once a day?" You confessed in a shrill, insecure voice.

He nodded with a dark smirk. "Very needy indeed." He turned towards you slightly, his body language showing openness and inviting you to cuddle up next to him.

He wanted to touch you. Platonically. He wanted to comfort you throughout this conversation as you opened up and showed your vulnerabilities to him, but he also wanted to respect the distance you were keeping. Little did he know it was just a facade. All you wanted was to feel his hands combing your hair, his solid chest pillowing your head, his lips whispering sweet nothings at your ear.

"So you said you like rules, spankings, power struggles and discipline, anything oral, toys and mature content. Anything else you need me to know, little vixen?" He asked, and the addition of "little" to your nickname made you understand that you were completely out of your mind for this man. You were ready for anything he commanded you.

"I like restraints." You admitted. "I tend to fight back a little unless my daddy sweet talks me into things. Sometimes I like feeling a bit helpless, like my daddy can manhandle me and maneuver me into positions. That's why I like harnesses and cuffs, especially thigh cuffs. Also spreader bars. And manacles. I don't like handcuffs, they hurt and leave marks which are a bit difficult to hide, and embarrassing to explain."

Namjoon's mouth watered at the thought of thigh cuffs. Of the way your flesh would swell there, of how much skin there would be to bite. However, he also realised he had a lot to learn about you. And he needed to learn new things to play with you.

"I am absolutely okay with that. I must admit I have never explored this deeply into restraints, so I need to tell you I'm inexperienced with stuff like spreader bars and bondage. I know basic knots for wrists, but that's it. I don't usually have much patience for shibari and the likes. The furthest I've gone is handcuffs and using ribbons or belts, on wrists only." He explained.

"That's okay. Bondage is something too tricky for me too. Lengthy." You admitted. "Do you have any special need I should know of?"

"Not really. Except privacy and absolute monogamy." He states coldly. "I like experimenting, and you mentioned a spreader bar earlier. I'd love to try that. Both on you and on myself. Same thing about manacles. They seem less aggressive than handcuffs."

You nodded and explained further. "The pressure is distributed on a wider surface, which minimises the risk of injuries and markings. Especially on rebellious… individuals." You chose your word carefully.

Namjoon bit his lip and hummed in understanding. By now the discourse was getting highly technical, the need to verify and negotiate interests and limits coming to the surface. "We're both voyeurs, but I'll ask anyway, what about blindfolds?"

"Soft limit. Really depends on how you handle it. I need constant reassurance and guidance, it really destabilizes me."

"Understood. I might be into those when paired with sensation play, but we'll get into that when the time is right." He conceded tenderly. "Just one last thing, baby. I need to know your hard limits. Stuff you really don't want to do."

"Degradation and humiliation are a big no no. My second — and most recent — relationship was with a degrading bastard. He hurt me in ways I'm not comfortable remembering."

"Okay, love." He looked you in the eyes and waited a second for your approval before caressing your face in comfort.

"Stuff like hardcore BDSM, water sports, triple penetration and most anal play. And asphyxiation or choking."

Namjoon nodded quickly. "Anything else?"

"Okay, orgasm denial and chastity devices are an absolute no. That should be it, about hard limits. There are a few things that make me safeword but that I can stand to a certain point, like edging, blindfolds, and touch deprivation."

Namjoon nodded once more, waiting for you to finish."Okay. I think that the only stuff I might meddle with is blindfolds and edging. I have no interest in controlling your orgasms — our aim is to please." He winked and smirked at you, your knees growing weaker and weaker. "Also, believe me when I say I tend to assume a very nourishing and protective role, therefore it would go against my nature to humiliate you or degrade you. I don't intend to attack your emotional stability, so if you're interested, we can tackle the problem with blindfolds a bit at a time. Same with edging, we'll take baby steps if you decide you trust me and want to give me the honour of trying." His brow creased as he tried to remember the other thing he wanted to say. "Oh, about touch deprivation, I always need my little one close to me, so you should never feel touch starved." He took a meditative pause." And I intend to touch you a lot, baby."

You shivered and leaned closer to him, attracted to the comfortable nook he was creating while leaning on his side against the back cushions of your sofa. It looked so warm. And safe.

He noticed your wandering glance and quickened the pace. He had ideas. And he needed you closer.

"My hard limits are including other people in our intimate life. I don't share like that." He warned perentoriously. "Also, you know my clumsiness. If there's any chance that it could damage you, then there's no going that way. I'm thinking of stuff like knife play and kinks that involve obviously dangerous material. Like violet wands. Anything involving hardcore BDSM, suspension play, infantilization and dubious consent is a non-negotiable hard limit. Are you still with me, baby?"

You nodded, making eye contact.

"Good. I might be interested in some anal play. No penetration and no strap-ons. Maybe rimming. Both giving and receiving. But we'll see. Same for sensation play." He scratched his neck, trying to think of things he doesn't like doing. "I don't like being edged and I have poor control of myself, so orgasm control and denial are kind of softish limits." And then you noticed the shift, like his spine getting straighter, his shoulders rolling back in the process, looking broader, still his voice came out sweet and caring. "Listen carefully now, little vixen. I have little tolerance for disobedience and insubordination. If you have a temper or challenge my dominance, you will have to face consequences. Also, I like claiming my partner entirely. What is mine is mine. I don’t like sharing. Infidelity is a deal breaker. Understood, ____?"

"Yes, sir." You replied, automatically, without even intending too. You did’t feel ready for that title. And sir felt neutral enough.

"Such nice manners." He praised with a proud smile. "Now, would you like to come closer, baby?"

You batted your eyes a couple times. You were sliding into subspace quickly and you found yourself questioning whether it was a good idea to get closer. Still, your body was faster than your brain, making you nod and crawl next to him, settling inside his embrace. "Can I sit on your lap, Joonie?"

He blushed, smiling kindly at you. He was beginning to melt at your complicated charms. "Of course, babe." He sat elegantly with his back leaning against the sofa, legs slightly parted so you could place yourself between them, your thighs across his and your side pressed to his front as his arms slowly wrapped around you, ready to retreat at your first show of discomfort. "Does it feel nice, darling?"

"Yes." You whispered. You were so close to him, his body warm while the late summer night felt chilly on your skin.

He cupped your cheek with his hand and pulled your head to his breastbone, building a calm cocoon for you. "You mentioned I look like a hot daddy before. Care to elaborate, little one?"

You purred at his term of endearment, cuddling into him some more. "You look so hot with your glasses on. Sometimes I close my eyes and still see you in your outfit for Gayo Daechukje in 2019. Grey three piece suit, necktie and glasses. Everyone was fantasising about you as their hot kinky professor in classroom roleplay."

He had some troubles reminiscing the details, but he saved in his mind some keywords. Glasses, suit, necktie, kinky professor roleplay. With your face burrowed in his chest, he propped his chin on top of you hair, his spare hand soothing your skin from your waist to your knee, raising goosebumps in its wake.

"Did that outfit cause discomfort, baby thing?" He questioned, hands caressing your hair gently.

"It did fuel some steamy dreams, yes." You conceded.

"And did you wake up all hot and bothered for me?' He kept teasing.

"Mh mh." You confirmed, head nodding slowly and timidly.

His chest shook in a breathy laugh. "Poor little girl, so desperate for the hot professor."

He sounded so cruel, basking in your needy struggles. "I'm so lucky I'm a smart girl who can take care of herself." You counterattacked.

"Smart indeed. But now that I know maybe I can take care of it for you." He pressed a kiss to your head. It was the first time he did a gesture so tender and so intimate.

"What else gets my little girl all ticklish and lightheaded?" He asked, curling tighter against you and around you.

"When you call me little." You admitted.

"Do you like it, ____?“

“Yes, Joonie. I like it a lot." You replied meeting his gaze.

He leaned down and pressed the tip of his nose to your earlobe, a spot he had discovered during your first make out session. "What if I whispered it here, little vixen?"

Your eyes closed, lost in sensations, your insides clenching so violently that your body followed the movement, knees pressing against each other, thighs squeezing for relief.

"I guess you really like this spot, am I right, little girl?" He pushed you closer and you started recognising the shape of him against your hip. The basketball shorts he was wearing did no good job at hiding him.

"Please Joonie."

"Please what, darling?" He pressed his lips there, kissing you with a featherlight touch, impossible to perceive, were not for the sound of his disclosing lips. The tip of his tongue met the skin there, your back arching into him. "When I first saw you you looked like a wet dream, _____, in your smart formal attire, looking like the most confident, adult, unbreakable woman in the world. Legs for days and an ass I wanna bite like a ripe, juicy peach. You looked polished like a model, negotiating over the price of a painting in a private gallery. You looked so damn hot." He bit into your neck, moving your hair aside. "You looked like the most refined and expensive thing I have ever seen. Polished, edgy. So sexy." He bit into you again.

This time you whimpered.

"I thought I stood no chance, with my clumsy character and boyish ways." He giggled, and his voice vibrated against your throat. "Now you're in my arms, all cosy and needy, begging me to please you with your big doll eyes and pretty, plush lips, behaving like the cutest, sweetest little girl I could ever dream of." He sucked at the column of your throat gently, hard enough to cause a blush but soft enough to avoid a bruise. He leaned closer to your ear. "You're my fucking wet dream, Vixen."

You whined loudly, turning your head towards him, hoping he would put you out of misery and kiss you.

Instead he grabbed your cheeks passionately and murmured on your mouth, staring intently in your eyes. "All mine. To enjoy, to ruin. But most importantly to protect and nourish and care for." He kissed you like you were made of porcelain, lips stiff against yours, afraid of letting go. "What do you want, little girl?"

You stared with equal intensity in his eyes. "Kiss me. Please, daddy, I'll be so good to you." You had no problem using his title this time, your brain completely surrendering to him.

"Good girl." And as you felt your lungs bloom at the praise, wetness pooling between your legs, you slowly gave in to him, opening your mouth, letting his tongue dance with yours, mixing with the fruity taste of the wine and the creamy texture of the dessert. His hand stayed at your waist while the other, once gripping your face, slithered into your hair and cupped your nape, dragging you closer. You didn't know what to do with your hands.

He kept kissing you as your lungs began burning, his technique impeccable. He kissed you thoroughly, licking your tongue and angling your head to give you access to his mouth. He fuelled your desire with short jabs of his chin, giving you the feeling of him caving in but then retreating and making you chase him. It was… Heady.

"We need to stop, little one. We need to take our time." He exhaled heavily, his cheek against your forehead as he calmed down. "Why don't we cuddle as we watch something?" He suggested.

"No more making out?" You cried out in tiny disappointment.

"You told me not to get ideas. First I'll learn about you. Properly. Then, when my brain gives me the green light, I guarantee you my body won't hold back. Just, give me time, ____.” He explained, controlled and at the same time empathetic.

You nodded in understanding, caressing his face and pressing a kiss to his chest. "I wanna kiss you again though."

"Don't worry, baby, we'll have the chance later. Let me calm myself down first." He replied, adjusting you in his lap, trying to separate you enough for decency.

You were glad that at least the dampness between your thighs was matched by the severity of his hard on.

"What do you say, I go to the bathroom, recompose myself real quick while you choose something to watch?"

You agreed.

Date five finished with a sweet kiss at the doorstep as he left after the film you watched together.

However the following morning you found a lengthy paragraph in your chat with Namjoon containing a detailed description of his intentions towards you. Let's just say you were glad for the girthy, buzzing friend you keep in your bedside table and for its assistence as you read his text and crumbled, calling his name.

#bangtan sonyeondan #bts smut #kim namjoon #kim namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon one shot #Namjoon fanfiction #namjoon smut #namjoon fic

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pagesfromthevoid · 4 years ago

Text

It Takes Time | 4 | g.w.

12-14-2020

George Weasley x Tonks!reader

Word Count: 2,626

Warnings: Hearing voices, angst, anxiety in general.

Author’s Note: I figured while my students are writing their essays, I’d write the fourth part of the story! This is actually a whole new bit that I wrote. Most of the parts so far have been things I already wrote, but I changed how I wanted them to interact so I write a whole new chapter. I hope you enjoy a double update!

Do not repost my work without my permission

* * * *

The rest of the day had passed by in a rather uneventful way. George was exhausted, though that wasn’t all that unusual. Between the emotional toll it took to do anything and his insomnia, he was afraid he’d always be tired.

Ever since the war started, and the last year after it had ended, George never got a full night's sleep. When the war started, he and Fred had been readying the shop or readying for a fight. They would split the night shift on the night watch (depending on the situation, of course), giving them both at most four hours of sleep each night. After the war, nightmares kept him awake. Painful memories and taunting beasts would shroud his sleep deprived brain if he tried to doze off. So instead of going home and napping like he initially planned, he decided he’d stay up and work. He’d been putting off the proper cleaning of the shop as long as he could; today seemed to be the best time to try.

The mixture of magical cleaning and manual, muggle labor kept him busy and it was surprisingly uplifting for his tired body. Throughout the day, he worked and dusted and cleaned and repaired. If it was broken or dirty, he got his hands on it quickly. Nothing in his once exciting shop went untouched by his excited hands. Maybe it was because he was suddenly anxious about dinner with Y/N. Maybe it was just the manic mood shift.

Fanged Frisbees and Yodeling Yo-Yo's were put back into their proper places; hanging up where they could be seen and heard in the shop. Price tags were put back into place around the cleaned up products. The Wonder Witch products were now back up and glowing their bright pink lights, which illuminated the shop. The Love Potions were set back up and straight again and all the cracked bottles were replaced. Everything in the section was returned to normal. George even tied up the figure that rode across a tightrope, throughout the shop, demanding for order. Figuring he could get a laugh out of those who remembered the old toad, Umbridge.

It was close to five when George sat down on the step near the counter of his shop, looking around the place with a small grin. It wasn’t quite ready, but it looked much better than it did when he started. I’m quite proud of us, Fred whispered with a chuckle. George simply rolled his eyes, however, and wiped his hands on his jeans. Better go shower and get ready, Fred warned, causing George to look at the clock. He cursed, realizing he didn’t have too much time and hurried up the stairs to his flat.

He had a date to prepare for.

...

“Teddy, love, you need to calm down,” Y/N cooed as they bounced their crying nephew in their arms.

Y/N had closed up shop around four in order to get the two of them ready for dinner with George. They had gotten everything set up and ready. Teddy had his food set out, he was changed and bathed. Everything was going just fine. Then, just as Y/N was about to walk out the door, Teddy completely lost it. For the last twenty minutes or so, the baby wailed and cried, hitting his little fists against Y/N’s chest. They didn’t want to cancel on George, but they certainly couldn’t bring a screaming child into a restaurant. The Leaky Cauldron was loud enough without Teddy in there. Y/N gathered Teddy’s stroller and his bag, tucking him into it even as he flailed about. Even when they handed him the wolf plush, he was not appeased and simply threw it across the room.

“Please, please stop crying,” they begged as they charmed the stroller down the stairs and into their shop. When it was planted safely on the ground, Y/N kneeled in front of it. “Don’t you want to see George? You know, Weasley?” They pointed out the window towards the joke shop, but Teddy refused to stop. Y/N huffed. “C’mon. You get to show him why we can’t go out, then.”

They pushed the door of the shop open and walked out, quickly locking it behind them. It wasn’t quite time for them to meet, so Y/N hoped George was still at home as they walked across the alley. They felt awful, what with Teddy screaming and his unrelenting wails echoing in the street. People were watching as they approached the shop. Without much thinking, they peered into the shop windows as they knocked, looking through them as light caught their eye.

Bright pink, glowing bottles and a faint whisper of I will have order! Could be seen and heard through the window. Y/N was suddenly unable to hear Teddy’s cries as they turned to look into the windows fully. Everything was clean and orderly. Items back on shelves, products whizzing past the windows as lights flashed in different colors and shapes. The main lights were off but everything had a happy glow to it.

“Bloody hell, I can hear you from upstairs,” George suddenly said, pulling Y/N’s attention back to him. He was knelt down in front of Teddy, poking at the child’s belly. Even that didn’t elicit a giggle though.

He slowly stood and looked down at Y/N with a grin, but they looked sheepish. “I’m sorry, George. Teddy just...doesn’t seem to be cooperating. I was coming by to see if we could rain check it.”

“Nonsense. Let’s take the Floo to the Burrow; I bet mum can help us.”

He motioned for them to follow, opening the door of the shop wide enough to get through. Y/N hesitated but followed, pushing their crying nephew through the door. George seemed completely unbothered by the crying, though Y/N chalked it up to the fact that he probably grew up with so many siblings that he was used to it. Coming into the shop, though, Y/N looked around in surprise. When they had come in a few weeks ago, it was so dark and felt so empty. But even with the lights off, and the thin layer of dust that still seemed to be on everything...well, the shop looked so much better. Even from the outside looking in, it was great. But being inside with all the lights and sounds again…

“The shop looks amazing, George.”

George stopped in front of the fireplace, turning to grin at them some. “I’ve been working on it all day, honestly. I can understand how muggles think cleaning can be relaxing now. Sort of, anyway.”

Y/N nodded some, taking in the various products that were still sort of scattered everywhere. Fireworks that looked like they probably needed to be thrown out, some frisbees with cracks in them, and even the sweets that they absolutely hated when they were in school...it was quite a sight to see. George cleared his throat, motioning for the fireplace. Y/N nodded and pushed the stroller inside, covering the top so Teddy wouldn’t be disturbed by the soot and smoke.

George grabbed a handful of Floo powder and with a clear voice, announced, “The Burrow!”

Green flames engulfed them, Teddy’s screams fading out as they disappeared and reappeared in George’s family home.

Y/N had only been to the Burrow once in their life, for Bill and Fleur’s wedding. It was an amazing place to see, though she hadn’t been inside at the time. Now, she stood beside George in their fireplace with a screaming child. It was bustling and busy, and Y/N could hear (who they assumed was) Molly Weasley in the kitchen, yelling at Ginny for something. George stepped out and brushed off his clothes, looking back at Y/N with a grin. Teddy, though momentarily surprised by the sudden change in scenery, returned to his screaming fit.

That’s when everything sort of stopped. The house quieted down and Ginny appeared in the stairwell, looking surprised. “George? George!” She yelled out, almost tripping down the stairs as she ran and hugged her brother.

Y/N stepped aside so they could greet each other. Molly poked her head out of the kitchen and gasped with excitement. “Georgie, dear! You’re home!” She dropped the pan in her hand but it stayed suspended in the air, cleaning itself. She took him in as Ginny hugged him, and Y/N took note that it seemed like it had been quite some time since George had been home. But Molly looked to her next as Teddy continued yelling. “And Y/N! With little Teddy! What a lovely surprise!”

Molly reached out to hug Y/N, and they awkwardly hugged back with a laugh. When Molly pulled away, she leaned down to greet Teddy, immediately lifting him up and holding him tight against her chest. Teddy continued crying, but looked up at surprise at the newest person holding him. Molly cooed in his face as Arthur wandered in, looking over something in his hands.

“Arthur, be a dear and get Teddy one of those muggle toys you have.” Molly ordered. Arthur looked up, suddenly realizing there was a crying baby and an almost stranger in his living room. He greeted George with a slap on the back before he disappeared into a room to the right of them.

“What brings you two here?” Molly asked, looking between Y/N and George now.

“Well, Y/N and I were supposed to grab dinner, but Teddy seems to be upset. I was hoping you could work that mum magic you have, and see if you could help them out?”

Y/N blushed some, feeling a bit ridiculous that they weren’t able to soothe a crying baby suddenly. They had done it plenty of times before, after all. Tonight just seemed worse than usual, and they didn’t want to ruin George’s night by having Teddy crying the entire time. While they loved Teddy with every part of their soul, the baby wasn’t the most attractive thing to people.

“I really could have handled it, George insisted --,” Y/N tried to explain but Molly waved her hand a bit.

“Oh don’t you worry about it, dear. You’re still new at this, there’s nothing wrong with needing help still. Though there’s nothing wrong with asking for help ever.” Molly gave them a reassuring smile, bouncing Teddy again as Arthur returned.

“I haven’t enchanted this yet. It’s just that rubber duck that I got from work,” he explained, holding it up. Arthur squeezed it and it squeaked at Teddy.

Teddy looked surprised for a moment, looking at the duck curiously before reaching out for it. Ginny stepped over with her Pygmy Puff, a purple puffball from the twins’ shop, and Teddy looked between it and the duck, his hair now switching between the bright yellow and the bright purple before him. With three people cooing at him plus the duck and the puff, Teddy’s tears slowly stopped until he hiccuped some.

George and Y/N stood beside each other, watching the scene unfold. Y/N felt a bit uncomfortable, honestly. All Teddy needed was a bit of attention and they couldn’t give him that. Something so basic, something that everyone needs, and they didn’t even realize that was what the problem was. George elbowed them gently, smiling some. Y/N returned it with a weak one of their own.

“Mum, you think you can watch him for a bit? Just so we can grab dinner?” George asked.

“Oh, of course. Take your time, dears. Enjoy your night. Teddy will be just fine with us. Harry is coming over too.”

Y/N felt weird leaving Teddy with the Weasley’s, even though they’d known the entire family for years. And Dora trusted them...Just go enjoy your date, Y/N. Molly is the best person for this, Dora’s voice whispered in their ear. Y/N almost responded, but George put his hand on the small of their back, drawing them from their thoughts.

“Let’s get to dinner, then,” he whispered to them, leaning in some to make sure it was just heard by them.

They nodded, following him back to the fireplace as he took them to the Leaky Cauldron.

…

Y/N was anxious, sitting at the dinner and bouncing their leg up and down under the table. They didn’t ever really leave Teddy with people. Harry watched him two or three times in the last year or so. And their mum watched him once or twice too. But both watch him early in the year, right after war. When Y/N needed those moments to themselves. They didn’t need babysitters for dates or anything. Not usually.

They felt selfish.

George didn’t seem to notice, sipping his butterbeer as he absently talked about their time at school. He seemed to be avoiding their question from earlier, which they supposed was fair. But Y/N wanted to know, and while the memories of Umbridge being traumatized by their fireworks was funny, it wasn’t enough to distract them from thinking about Teddy.

Y/N lifted their drink to their lips but instead of taking a sip, they sat there and stared blankly ahead. George was aware they weren’t actually listening, as it turned out. He knew they weren’t thrilled about leaving Teddy, and he felt guilty pushing for them to do so. But mum was completely capable of taking care of the baby and Y/N needed this dinner as much as George did. He set his hand on their knee, stopping the bouncing of their leg. Y/N finally looked back at him, brow furrowed some.

“We can go get him, if you want to.” He offered, giving them a small smile.

Y/N took a breath and shook their head. “No, no. I’m sorry. I just...I haven’t left him with someone else since the end of the war. I just...I feel bad, I suppose.”

George nodded, pulling back and resting his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. “You said that Harry needs to be young while he can, but what about you? You’re, what, 21? 22? You need to be young too.”

“Is that why you asked me to dinner? To make me be young?”

“I asked you to dinner because you asked me a question earlier and I intended to answer it,” he pointed out. “Besides, I also wanted to hang out with you outside your shop. If I spend any more time there, I’ll get fat.” George pat his belly, grinning at them playfully. Y/N rolled their eyes.

“You haven’t answered my question, though.” They reminded him, setting down their drink. Y/N’s anxiety was slowly diminishing, though it wasn’t quite gone. They didn’t think it’d ever go away entirely. “What suddenly changed?”

George shrugged some, leaning back in his chair. “That is the question of the day, isn’t it? What changed?”

“You’re avoiding the answer.”

“No, no, I’m avoiding making a fool of myself.”

Y/N laughed at that, which George decided was his favorite sound. He’d get them to laugh again soon. “George Weasley, I watch you make a fool of yourself almost every day during school. I don’t think you’re capable of being embarrassed. Do I need to ask again?”

George nodded some, agreeing with the sentiment. They were absolutely right; George wasn’t one to get embarrassed easily. Though this seemed worse than every mishap and failed prank he’d ever played combined. They already agreed to dinner though. And they, themselves, called it a date. That meant something, didn’t it?

“I met you.”

****************************************

Taglist: @l0vege0rgie , @sunles

#george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley #it takes time #mine

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blissfulsun · 4 years ago

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Hello lovelies!! This one is not a request, I wrote it last night, too sleep deprived and hangry cause fasting. It’s probably my closest attempt at angst so far & it’s like 1.2K words lol, let me know what u think and enjoy angels!!💓🦋

word count: 1,245

Will they, won’t they // Jeff Wittek

You are trying to make sense of Nat's drunk giggles and the rambling story of another stunt Todd recently pulled in his attempts to win her over when the two of you are interrupted in your little bubble by David.

'Y/n I think Jeff is looking for you' his eyes sending a pointed message to his assistant as you remain oblivious to their scheming.

Your brow involuntarily furrows, 'oh..-' Natalie interrupts your train of thought, 'He was heading outside to the garden last time I saw him.' Her hands already on your shoulders, pushing in that general direction.

Everyone is acting weird, you think to yourself. Well, weirder than normal.

Outside there are only few people milling about, tonight a more intimate setting with just the selected few other than the squad itself. Which is exactly why you happen to find Jeff in your eye line all too quickly.

Except he doesn't appear to be looking for you, judging by how busy he looks with his mouth attached to that of a petite blonde.

You don't stop and try to figure out who it might be or if you know the girl at all.

The next steps taken are calculated, each action planned yet robotic as you step back inside and head for Nat's room to grab your stuff and go.

That's how David finds you, hands diligently checking coat pockets for car keys and phone, 'Y/n! Did you find the man of the hour?' he doesn't seem to catch onto your dampened mood fast enough.

‘I did. It was...unnecessary and painful for me so thanks, I'm going to head out now' you ignore the stuttering confusion of your friend, waving off both the boy and the camera in his hand as you pass by.

'What?! Why?' he follows in your footsteps, more puzzled than ever at your dishevled state. 'I'm just tired Dave, it's been a long day and work is kind of kicking my ass. I'll see you tomorrow yeah?' the declaration is followed by a quick hug around his shoulders and then you're gone.

Jeff's eventful night is interrupted by Natalie, who strides up to him in her tipsy state. Anger evident in her expression, 'What did you do?' he's momentarily stumped.

'We gave you the perfect opportunity with Y/n tonight. Relaxed setting, only your guys' mutual friends around. She looked really fucking good in that new skirt Corinna forced her into-'

Jeff interrupts her rambling. 'What is going on?' frustration is evident on the girl's face, for a second, he thinks she might lunge at him.

‘Everyone is sick and tired of this will they, won't they the two of you have going on. Dancing around your feelings at your big age Jeff, seriously? We...Dave thought you might do something about it tonight after you practically sabotaged her date last week.'

He's flustered at the accusation, or rather, the truth behind it. He may have pretended to have lost his keys within minutes of Y/n leaving for her date while he took Nerf on a walk.

The girl with a heart far too big for her chest and obvious weakness for his dog abandoning previous plans in order to pick them up in her car to spend the night.

'I...' he begins with a stutter, shoulders falling in defeat. 'I messed up Nat.' she only snorts. 'You think? She's gone home by the way' Natalie continues at the sight of his expression, 'ran out of here making up some lies about being tired or something, probably just getting there as we speak-'

Jeff is tapping her on the shoulder and is out the door by the time the brunette is done with her explanation. 'Go get her baby!!'' Scott is the last of his friends to get some words of encouragement in as the door slams behind him.

Jeff doesn't want to know how many laws he just broke on his way over, his driving borderline dangerous on just a regular day.

All that matters is that he's at her door, knocking a little erratic as he waits.

For a fleeting moment, he remembers the other girl who offered to take his mind off the one who's on the other side of this very wall, his mind in a war with itself over his thoughtless agreement in the spur of the moment.

You weren't sure who you had expected at the door when the knocking snapped you out of the pity party that's been happening since the moment you got in your car back at David's, but Jeff wasn't at the top of that speculative list.

Your brows furrow, 'Jeff? wha-' he had to interrupt, 'can I stay the night?' his request stumping the both of you.

He wasn't sure why that happened to be the first sentence out his mouth, but in his defence, his thoughts were scrambled, those five words the most coherent and quickest to form within the short while of staring at your bare face illuminated by the hallway lighting.

The sigh of defeat which leaves your mouth makes him perk up embarrassingly fast. He resembles a puppy in that moment, you think, scolding yourself for the soft assessment when you're trying to stay mad at him.

Then you remember, it's not your place. Jeff hadn't done anything wrong, I mean, you agreed to a date with the first guy to continuously bug you about it just the other night.

By the time that train of thought it completed, you're already in your bedroom, Jeff following silently behind.

You watch him strip off his shirt and grab a pair of more comfortable bottoms he's left here during one of your endless sleepovers. It's still quiet when he slips underneath the cover on his self-proclaimed side of the bed.

The air is charged as you roll onto your side and try to fall asleep, avoidance your preferred method for tonight.

It's probably half the reason you're in this mess, you muse to yourself: you avoid your feelings as they rattle in your rib cage and bruise the soft tissue, always ignoring any possible signs of your emotions being reciprocated.

God forbid you'd look Jeff in the eye right now, even though the man is literally shirtless & sprawled out in your bed, hands hesitantly gripping at your hips to bring you into his arms for the night.

Jeff, on the other hand, is tired of avoiding ,he decides. 'Angel?' your humm is the only acknowledgement heard in the dark of the covers.

'Can I....can I stay the night tomorrow-' he confuses you like no one ever before and so you interrupt 'what?'.

He continues, 'And the day after that...& whatever day of the week it's going to be after that too.' He's determined, Natalie's earlier words vivid in his mind.

Jeff moves to hover his face over yours comfortably sank in the pillows. 'What are you saying?' the words are shaky leaving your lips.

'That I'll stay. If you will have me' You only hesitate for a split second, head of blonde hair flashing before your eyes before Jeff is all that you see again.

Tunnel vision dictates your movement aimed to diminish whatever space is left between you and the person who's been haunting your dreams, asleep and awake in daydreams for the last year.

‘Okay, stay...' it's a whisper of two simple words but it feels like a promise between you. Jeff plans to keep it.

#jeff wittek fanfiction #jeff wittek x reader #jeff wittek imagine #jeff wittek #even my angst turns to fluff lowkey #maybe im just built soft lol

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word-addict-lisette · 3 years ago

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Dear Lisette,

I am back in you inbox, yay! How was your day? How's life? How's school?

I am really mad because we had this piece of work and it was like "pen down your idea on this statement, 'i can do whatever i want on the internet as long as i don't get caught' and i put down my thoughts which were 'this statement is true, i stand by it and you can do whatever you like as long as you don't get caught and don't own up' and then people were like throwing shade at me and i looked at it. I have 5 comments.

My teachers tried to delete it, my classmates literally lectured me and then she read it out loud and the whole class went looking for that one note i made. In the comments, people are spelling my name in caps. It was my opinion, and oh, look all of them are basically hypocrites. Let me just say, these people make me uncomfortable, they don't talk about exactly nice things or approriate things and they are all commenting ( without names too may i add) like "KAT, THAT'S NOT HOW THINGS WORK!" but with my real name and just arghhh.

Also if my teachers wanted me to say, "no, that isn't the right thing to do," or any other answer that the others provided them with, they shouldn't have asked for my opinion. They should have just forced us all to just type the same thing. The other people all wrote like, "no, its unethical and bad" or "False, no, its bad" and stuff like that, filmsy evidence and elaboration. I HAVE MORALS, i am just saying the truth. I feel like the victim of a hate crime. People don't like me enough already, i am a very intresting person, uh, yeah, we are gonna stop there.

Enjoy the rant i guess? I don't know? I am sorry for loading on you but there's a little extra rant so uh, yeah. im just gonna take this out, one sec.

Ok, so uh my teacher was like, next week, we are making pancakes. Fluffy pancakes. It was changed to pancakes without eggs? and now we have to make it ourselves, at home. Where do i get flour? What do i do with the extra flour? I don't know how to cook at all, my partner who has been extremely controlling and like kinda driving me insane, ( ahem i did the whole coursework) also she uses my friend's name for everything? Like, bestie i was literally helping out and you went all, "Oh you don't want (friend's name) to see you burnt right?". Obviously i don't but if i burnt down my house, she wouldn't be surprised. I BURNT MYSELF LAST YEAR, SHE SAW ME BURN MYSELF. Well, my friend burnt me and then the week after that, she burnt herself.

This happens a lot. Also, the very common questions and statements of, "Are you straight?" , "aren't you and (friend's name) dating?", "you guys would make such a cute couple" , " aren't you bi?" and "i thought the two of you were dating," there is nothing wrong with being bi but i am not attracted to her like that. So, they use her for leverage over me to get me to do what they want and also think im dating her? If we were dating, we would both be homeless. I like my house. This doesn't only happen with her. I once got shipped with my brother. I hugged him and some guy was like, "oh you guys like each other," that was awkward. Can i just add, a lot of people like majority of that community know we are siblings.

I also get shipped with his best friend, thanks to a rumor my brother made up. So, sometimes, i would get like comments like, "oh, you like him" or "(brother's name) told me that you and (brother's best friend) are dating," we are not dating. WE ARE JUST REALLY GOOD FRIENDS. I LIKE A FICTIONAL CHARACTER. LEAVE ME ALONE. Also, everytime i have a picture of a guy on my phone or something my cousin just has to tell my brother. THEY ARE STREAMERS. ONE IS OF V FROM BTS SO I CAN TRAMATISE MY FRIEND.

Everytime i cry, someone comes in my room. It is so annoying. LEAVE ME ALONE, I WANT TO CRY. This is why i started reading sad books, listening to sad songs, watching sad movies so i have a reason to cry. There was this once, i wasnt selected to be part of my choir's competition and i was sad about it because i didn't feel good enough. THEY SAID I WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH. So, i cried but it wasn't enough so i read the saddest book i could find so i had a reason to cry but by that time, my feelings were gone. This is why i get breakdowns when im overwhelmed because of all this. You know how old i am. I have to deal with this and the pressure of always wanting to be perfect. What else can i do? I am not pretty or smart or talented or have friends, i have like 6 friends and nobody ever keeps me company. So, i focus on being perfect. 100%, i deal with not having any attention because my parents didn't pay me any attention just because i was "independent" or something?

Did i mention, i babysit all my siblings? I am the second child. I baby-sit my older brother. I am sleep-deprived because i can't sleep well at night and i constantly worry about everything and i have to take care of all my friends and it is so exhausting. Yet, i can not cry.

Thanks for staying with me through whatever that was. Uh, yeah, i took the quiz and got chaotic academia. That is my aesthetic. I really want one of those fancy skirts they wear like on pintrest and stuff? Like you know what i mean? The academia skirt? Yeah, i don't have one yet.

Question of the day, what is your dream profession or you could answer my other question which is what would you want to look like? Or you could answer both?

Ok, thank you again. i am gonna go study. Love and hugs and just literal joy sent your way!

- Kat, the ultimate dino mom of Leo, Billy Bob, Jessica, Sophie, Jackson, Sarah, Lily, the Micheals and all her other kids. (Jessica, Sophie and Jackson are mailboxes and Lily is a computer, Micheal is my screwdriver and laptop pencil, there are two micheals.)

Dear Kat,

It's really good to see you in my inbox. I'm sorry for replying late, but exams really had occupied my schedule today and I got my Saturday exam tomorrow. This week is going to be stressful and today's day has been pathetic. I had nothing to do except study and write exams. I feel like I haven't really been social recently and That I'm losing touch with people that I used to be close with and basically I'm letting overthinking take over my mind.

That is so sick. Why is someone's genuine opinion bothering them so much? I totally wouldn't be able to tolerate that. They ought to understand that there is a fine line between a fact and an opinion, and what you stated was just an OPINION. they have no right whatsoever to come at you like that. I totally agree... the teachers ought to have not asked for your opinion if all they desired was a particularly specific answer which opposed the statement. one of the reasons I hate the schooling system has to be THIS. people who are putting comments like that ought to realize that what you stated is exactly what they do in real life. They just want to be seen as the good kid here. At least you have the guts enough to speak the truth.

Miss! You don't have to worry about ranting out to me. You can rant to me for days and I'd still listen. Just go on ranting nobody is stopping you.

Ahhh! I've had that happen to me. I really understand how tough that can be. I really really hate being shipped with someone who I am just platonically friends with like you've got no valid proof to believe that we are romantically involved with each other. I've burnt myself plenty of times too. It's not a pleasant experience. Plus I also hate having controlling partners. Cause all they do is boss you around while they are barely doing a thing. It sucks.

Why? Just why? Why does it even matter to them? Who you date and what your sexuality is, is none of their business. I have no idea why people concern themselves with topics that really don't involve them. It's like people are just ready to make gossip out of anything. A person can't have a bestie without not liking them? I don't get what's so difficult to understand about that. I hate it when I'm casually talking to a guy and people start shipping us and start spreading rumors of us being in a romantic relationship. Another thing they do is, if a person likes me, they automatically assume that I like him back when I've barely even ever spoken to that guy. And yes! I like fictional characters! Don't even assume I like any of you fools cause You idiots bully me and ship me with total crackheads... And my standards are good enough for me to not include you guys in my list of *appropriate candidates* which consists of non-existent people.

Similarly, the moment I'm chatting with some guy, or like have a pic with someone on my mobile phone people just assume that fact that I'm crushing on him. Like no! I don't. We are friends... the others are celebrities, Why can't you understand that? I can't imagine how thick their skull must be considering they can't let a small statement like that sink in.

The crying thingy... I feel personally attacked. Nobody lets me do anything in peace, let alone crying. I literally use the washroom in my room and even my sister comes in there just banging on the door asking me to get the heck out of there and go somewhere else, like can't she use the other two washrooms or what? I like listening to sad stuff and reading angst cause somehow or the other it calms me down... it makes me feel at peace cause I know I'm not the only one who feels like crying. I've got a lot of friends, nobody remembers my birthday, I remember all of theirs'. They don't even text me, It's always me who takes the first step. All my friends just want me by their side cause I'm a smartass they want to show off as a trophy and cause I've got much better sarcasm than them. They just want to benefit from me. That's all. GOD, I'm not pretty at all. I look like a random idiot all the time. I look pathetic. And I lack talent... And you! I warned you, miss! You are pretty, beautiful, talented, smart, friendly, caring, kind and THE BEST!!!

I've never been given attention. Never ever. My sister has always stolen the spotlight. And I hate it. Not even my friends acknowledge me, my parents just ehhhhh. No matter how good I score, No matter how good I behave, No matter what. I'm just never good enough. My parents think of me as a rebellious kid. And I don't know what to do about that. All I've ever done is listen to them. My parents never allowed me to go out and play with my friends when I was a kid, they never let me go on overnight trips, and they barely let me spend time with the few friends I have. They never let me go to outings my school friends planned. Despite that, I never complained. I never had good friends because of that, yet I never complained. A lot of kids my age roam around in shopping malls by themselves, have sleepovers, spend money, roam around with tons of makeup on their faces, are in relationships, and even get into illegal shit. I've never done anything Like that. And yet... I'm never the good kid. I'm still the rebel.

I've got to take care of my sister almost every day. Get her to study, study myself, take care of myself while tolerating my grandmother. I really don't like my grandma, she s very fussy and just keeps yelling around the house the moment my dad and mom leave the house. I've got sensory overload because of her voice. And now I sit and have an anxiety attack almost every time she speaks. I've always got to strive for perfection as well. And I too can't sleep well at night just cause all the worries of the world, keep weighing me down.

Chaotic academia sounds good. It's the same aesthetic my sister got when I asked her to take the test! And oooh! Me too! I love those skirts and outfits they show on Pinterest. I'd love to have them someday.

My dream profession has to be that of a writer. Or perhaps even running a library. just something cozy. Ohh! I'd love to have brown hair, and I'd want to be tall just a little shorter than What I am right now. I just reached my father's height yesterday. And more or less, I'd like the rest to stay just as it is. and perhaps a lighter shade of skin tone. What about you though?

My question for you! If you were to be stranded on a beach island for a week. Who would you bring with you and how would you spend your time there. You can include whatever elements of nature you want to include like forests, lakes, and all.

Sending love, warmth, hugs, and whatever I have to spare that you would like to you!!!!

-Love from Lisette

P.S. That's an interesting family you've got, right there!

#kat the eccentric(indeed)#sweet sweet asks #dear kat #love from lisette #long post

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