#I’ve only been able to land one ‘job’ and it was seasonal part time where they didn’t keep me afterwards

[doodlesdreaming]

After years of job rejections and life in general full of bad luck, I’m left to rely on the one thing I’m actually “good” at. Which means:

👉Self Promotion.👈

I am open for work, c0missi0ns or otherwise, and there is my P*treon as well. Which ever works best for anyone.

[mountttmase]

Change Of Heart

The Middle - Part Three

Note - chapter three wooooo. Thank you so much for all your feedback last week and I’m really sorry I didn’t reply to you guys. It was a weird few days and I’ve been sick so it slipped my mind but I really appreciate you guys so much. I hope you enjoy this one too and happy halfway mark 🩷

Pairing - Mason Mount x Reader

Word count - 6.3k

Warnings - series contains angst & fluff

Never in a million years did you think you’d be in the pickle you were in right now.

You’d never felt this awful about yourself before, fleeing the flat that you’d shared with Jack for just over three years since your second year of uni and returning to your childhood home for some much needed comfort. But the only person's comfort you wanted was still in training.

You thought everything was turning out perfectly, moving out of halls and into your first big girl flat with Jack was a massive step but you’d fallen into domestic life perfectly. The both of you still on the same course but taking a few different modules meaning you weren’t together 100% of the time and being able to study together and push each other forward helped you get the best results possible. Both ending up with firsts and it didn’t take you long to land a job so you could continue to live where you’d both made your new home but right now that all now seemed like a long lost dream.

As soon as you made it home to your parents house you rushed up to your old room. Ignoring your family entirely as you locked yourself away and as soon as you thought Mason might be finished with training you sent him a quick text.

Mason, he was always there when you needed him.

You were surprised at first at how quickly the pair of you had fallen back into the rhythm of being friends. Waking up that next morning after your dads birthday party to find him pressed up against your back with his head in your neck and an arm around your waist, but it was the fact he’d clearly gotten hot in the night and taken his jeans off that had made you chuckle. Knowing how much he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable by taking his clothes off but you enjoyed waking up next to him more than you let on.

He’d woken up shortly after you and after a quick squeeze you felt him move away, not wanting you to wake up with him pressed against you but you were quickly rolling over so you could press yourself up against him and hold him to you until you felt his chest rumble with laughter.

‘Morning Masey’

‘Morning, love. You sleep okay?’

‘Surprisingly well actually. What about you?’

‘Yeah not bad’ he whispered but you could tell he was a little shy still. Not able to look you in the eyes for more than a few seconds but it was just nice to have him back in any capacity.

Mason stuck to his word after that night, always keeping in contact as often as he could and when he went on loan to Derby County you made sure to go to as many games as you could manage. Jack always in tow as it became your little thing but as soon as he joined back up with Chelsea Jack had to stop. Telling you he didn’t feel right cheering for Chelsea as an Arsenal fan so you ended up going to games alone or with some of the Chelsea girlfriends as Mason introduced you to more people as he made friends.

You were so proud of him, watching him take the world by storm and as his second season was coming to an end you knew one of the biggest games of his life was coming up and he didn’t need any distractions.

You needed him though. Urgently.

You needed him more than you'd ever needed anyone in your life and as you sat and waited for him to show up you felt sicker and sicker. The gravity of the situation still not hitting you properly as you hadn’t managed to speak it out loud to him yet but you knew you needed to get a grip.

When Mason eventually got to your house, the door was opened by your mother who gave him a concerned look as she nodded him in and he wasn't sure what to to think at all.

‘She’s in her room but she won’t tell me what’s wrong’ she huffed, rolling her eyes slightly and it struck him as a bit weird because he knew you told your mum everything. The fact she was laughing it off though made him think it was that serious though and he felt his heart calm down slightly.

‘I’ll speak to her’ he reassured her. Touching her arm as if to comfort her slightly before he made his way up the stairs and straight to your room. Knocking gently as the door was shut but he really didn’t know what to expect.

‘You in there love?’ He called, knocking lightly again as he didn’t know if you were sleeping but you were far from it. Laid on your back as you looked up to the ceiling to try and control your breathing but his voice had you sat up straight in an instant.

‘Yeah’ you answered, hoping it was loud enough for him to hear but you knew your voice sounded strained and when the door finally opened and you could see his face you felt yours crumple. Hot tears running thick and fast down your face but Mason was quick to shut the door and rush to your side so he could pull you into his arms.

Even though he had no idea what was going on, the fact he’d dropped everything to come here and comfort you meant the world and as you sobbed into his chest you’d never felt more lucky to have a friend like him.

He let you take your time, rubbing you back soothingly to calm you down enough to speak and even though you were petrified, you knew Mason would be there for you and on your side no matter what you told him.

‘Hey, come on it’s okay’ he whispered, trying to pull back so he could look at you but you weren’t ready yet and he didn’t push you to talk until your tears had died down. ‘It’s alright, love. Take your time, yeah? I’m not going anywhere’

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you come all this way’

‘No no don’t be silly, you know I would have come a lot further if you needed me to’ he whispered. Trying his best to settle you so that you’d come out and tell him what’s wrong and when you looked up at him with a pout, his heart broke for you. ‘What is it, love? Whats happened?’

‘Me and Jack… well there isn’t a me and Jack anymore. He’s left me’ you told him, your voice wobbling as you tried your best not to break down again but you could tell he was shocked as he pulled you back into his chest.

‘Oh y/n’ he sighed, wrapping his arms around you tighter and rubbing your back soothingly. ‘What happened?’

‘If I tell you, can you promise it stays between us’ you asked, not wanting anyone to know your secret just yet but you knew you were about to burst if you didn’t tell someone.

‘Well I don’t kn-‘

‘No Mason, you have to promise’ you begged, feeling yourself get hysterical as he wasn’t promising but when he cupped your jaw you looked straight into eyes and knew you had nothing to worry about.

‘Okay okay, I promise, yeah?’ he told you, grabbing your hand out of your lap so he could link your pinkies together and you smiled for the first time that day at the gesture. ��I pinkie promise you it stays between us. Now spill’

You tried your hardest to tell him, the words stuck on the tip of your tongue and it took a few tries but he never tried to rush you. Giving you the time he needed you gather yourself and get the words right but it was like you’d forgotten how to speak.

‘I can’t Mase, I can’t say it’

‘Why not?’

‘Cause if I say it then it’s happening and-‘

‘Whatever it is, no matter how bad you think it might be, I’m here yeah?’ He told you. Stroking your cheek so you could look at each other properly. ‘I’ll always be here. You’re not on your own at all so just tell me and we can face it together’

‘I’m pregnant’

The words came out as a whisper and you weren’t even sure if Mason understood at first but when you watched his face contort into one of shock you knew he had. All the breath in his lungs being expelled at once as what you’d said hit him like a slap in the face, but now you’d said it out loud the words came pouring out of you like word vomit.

‘I found out a few days ago and I’m way further along than I was expecting and it’s all just such a mess. I didn’t want to add more pressure onto your plate with the final coming up but I didn’t know who else to tell I’m so so sorry Mase-‘

‘You do not need to apologise, okay? You have nothing to be sorry for’ he whispered and you could see he was trying his hardest to comfort you but he was also stunned by what you’d told him. ‘Sorry I feel like I’m being shit but I don't know what to say’

‘No it’s fine, I don’t know either’ you laughed and the fact you’d cracked a bit made him smile. Pulling you into his chest so you could cuddle into him and when his fingers began to massage over your scalp you felt yourself melt.

‘Are you okay? Like are you feeling okay?’ He whispered into the side of your head and you nodded softly.

‘I’m a bit sick but I’m fine I promise’ you told him looking back up into his big brown eyes and it was as clear as day how much he cared and how worried he was for you.

‘So Jack left when you told him?’ He asked carefully but all you could do was nod knowing your voice would fail you. ‘I’ll kill him. I swear to god I’ll kill him’

‘Please don’t, I just wanna forget he ever existed’ you sniffed before looking down into your lap so you could let your tears fall.

‘Look at me’ he whispered, taking your face in his hands again so he could kiss your forehead and you felt yourself relax in his hold. Looking up at him through your tears but you could see he was calming down. ‘He never deserved you. The both of you, okay?’ He mumbled. Your eyes spilling over as he referred to you as a pair and even though you were petrified you knew you’d be okay as long as you had your best friend. ‘I don’t care what you say, I’m here now and I’m taking care of you’

‘No mase, you can’t-‘

‘I don’t wanna hear it okay.’ He cut you off, tucking your hair behind your ears. ‘Call it payback or whatever for when I left for a year but you’re not on your own. I’ll do whatever you need me to’

‘Mase-‘

‘You need to do one thing for me though, okay’ he asked and you had no idea what it was but you were willing to do just about anything for him right now. ‘I need you to tell your mum’

You knew he was right, there was no way you could hide this from her and you’d need all the help you could get but the prospect of telling your family terrified you. You knew this wasn’t what they wanted for you and the thought of disappointing them hurt but you knew deep down he was right.

‘Will you come with me?’ You asked quietly and his face softened immediately.

‘Of course I will’

‘Okay, let me just go to the loo and sort myself out and we can do it’ you smiled. Leaving him alone in your room for a moment but you had no idea what he was about to do as he reached for his phone and called the one person he needed to talk to.

‘Hello?’

‘Don’t talk and don’t put the phone down’ he said lowly, his mind scrambled with what he wanted to say but in the end he blurted it all out. ‘I’m just calling to tell you you’re a piece of shit and if you dare thinking about coming near her again I’ll rip your fucking head off’

‘Oh give it a rest mate, you think I give a shit?’ Jack laughed and the sound made Mason want to punch something. ‘You should be thanking me anyway, I know you’ve wanted me out of the picture since I got there. Not that it makes much difference, she still picked me even when you were begging for her’

‘Shut the fuck up’ Mason spat but it made no difference. Jack was still laughing at him down the phone like he thought he was pathetic and it made Mason want to scream.

‘Don’t call me again and I won’t call you. And don’t worry, I don’t plan on being near her anytime soon’

‘How can you be like this? You’re gonna chuck it all away for no reason?’

‘I never wanted a kid, that was never in my plans. She can do what she wants but I’m out. Just like I’m out of this conversation. I would say good luck with everything but I don’t mean it’ he said before hanging up and Mason could only just contain his rage.

How could he say that about you? You’d stuck with him for so long and Mason knew how much you loved him so to hear him speak about you in this way infuriated him. Mason was never Jacks biggest fan but he’d always been respectful for your sake and now he wished he never had been.

‘Mase, you coming?’ You called, your head poking into your room to see him looking furious but as soon as his eyes fell on you his whole face changed.

‘I’m here love, sorry’ he smiled. Popping his phone back into his pocket and meeting you by the door so he could take your hand and lead you downstairs. It was safe to say you were terrified but as long as you had Mason you knew you could get through this.

Telling your mum you were about to become a single parent was one of the hardest things you ever had to do, but she could see how upset and scared you were and thankfully wasn’t hard on you. Begging you to stay home so she could look after you and you took her up on the offer so you could be closer to Mason and away from the home you used to share with Jack. Even staying with him some nights just for a break and you always felt your happiest when you were next to him.

He did everything for you. He cooked, he cleaned, he even did your washing and when the time came for his big game he called you as soon as he could after he’d won to let you know it was you and your little pickle that pushed him over the finish line and gave him the strength to win.

When he had a small break from football he took you away for a few days just the two of you and you knew what you must have looked like to other people but you never corrected them. You just held his hand and let him treat you even if you did feel awful about it but in the back of your mind you wanted people to think you were together. That you had your life in order and the father of your child was in the picture rather than off doing god knows what because you weren’t good enough for him.

Pregnancy was tough. You felt sick most of the way through it and even though you were trying your hardest to make out that you were fine, you were still mourning the loss of the man you thought you’d be spending the rest of your life with. You kept your sadness private though, waiting until you were in the safety of your bedroom of a night to let your tears flow.

It took a while but you knew it had to stop. Your life still had to move on without him and you had a whole new human to think about. If he didn’t want to be a part of your lives then that’s his choice but it was also your choice to give your baby the best life you could.

Mason couldn’t make it to your first scan but he made sure to take you to your second. You could tell he was unsure about if you wanted him to actually come in with you or not but you just nodded your head in the direction of the door and he followed you in with a huge smile.

‘I see your red lipstick is back’ he commented as he helped you up onto the bed but all you could do was send him a smile. It was rare you’d worn it over the last few years as Jack always complained when you did but now you were free of him, you were free to wear it again. Feeling more like yourself with each day that passed.

‘So todays the day’ the nurse smiled as she gelled your belly up. ‘What have you decided?’ She asked but Mason was looking at you confused. He had no idea what an important scan this was but you just smiled at him before turning to her.

‘I want to know’ you confirmed but Mason just looked at you like you were speaking another language.

‘Am I missing something here? Want to know what?’

‘What I’m having. I can find out if it’s a boy or a girl today’ you told him and his eyebrows almost got lost in his hairline he was that shocked.

‘Oh’ he smiled. ‘Wait you’re just gonna find out now? No big gender reveal or anything?’

‘Nah, I don’t fancy it’ you shrugged. ‘I’ve got the most important person here who needs to know so I don’t see why I should wait. What do you think?’

‘Let’s do it’ he smiled, his eyes sparkling as they filled with tears and you squeezed his hand to let him know it was okay as the nurse began the search for your little one. ‘What am I having then? A niece or a nephew’ he joked, squeezing your hand gently as she moved the probe around and she let out a little laugh before her eyes fell to you.

‘Y/n… you’re having a little girl’

You didn’t realise you were crying until you felt Mason's lips on your forehead. Warm trickles spilling down your cheeks at the gesture as you covered your face with your free hand.

You’d told yourself you would be happy with whatever your baby was but deep down you knew you wanted a girl. A little mini you who would be your absolute best friend and now you knew you were getting your wish you couldn’t hold your sobs in. The nurse leaving the pair of you alone so Mason could help you calm down and after a few more forehead kisses and reassuring words in your ear you were semi back to normal.

‘Sorry Mase, it’s just a lot’

‘I know, love. It’s okay though, you’re allowed to get upset’ he reassured you and before you knew it you were getting packed up to leave and go home with fresh pictures of you little girl in hand.

You made a quick stop in the loo before you left, something that was now becoming a regular occurrence and once you were out, Mason was nowhere to be seen. You wondered if he’d maybe been mobbed by fans and had to go and hide but as soon as you got your phone out to text him he appeared. A sly smile on his face as he hid his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie and you eyed him curiously until he let out a giggle.

‘Where did you go?’ You asked him, the smile on his face contagious as he tried to suppress it.

‘The gift shop’

‘Why? Isn’t it full of flowers and get well soon cards?’

‘There was a lot of that yes, but I wanted to get my niece her first teddy’ he smiled, reaching back into his front pocket and pulling out a little giraffe teddy with a pink bow tied round the bottom of its neck and you felt your eyes sting for the millionth time that day.

‘Oh Mase’ you whispered. ‘That must have cost you an arm and a leg in there’

‘Worth it’ he smiled and when he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, you let him lead you out to the car to go home.

As you neared the end of your pregnancy you were ready for it all to be over with. Your little pickle wasn't so little anymore and everything was hurting. The worst were the Braxton Hicks contractions and even though you’d been having them for a few weeks now, the ones today felt worse. You weren’t due to give birth for another two weeks though so you knew it was nothing serious however after a call to your midwife she advised you to come in and stay the night to be observed.

You called Mason that night once you were settled in, letting him know you were staying over as a precaution and even when he tried to protest you made him stay home. He had a big game the next day and you didn’t want him to worry and get himself in a tizz when you’d be chilling in bed all day and by the time you were both ready to sleep he was pleading with you to see you afterwards. Agreeing that he could come and visit you after his game and you went to sleep excited that you’d be able to see him tomorrow.

As far as games go, it was a good one for Mason. He stuck to his promise and scored you a goal, his first of the season, which was then followed by 2 more. His first Chelsea hat trick and you just wished you would have been able to watch it in a little more comfort.

As soon as Mason could get out of there he did. Discreetly letting the staff know what was happening so they let him go without another word and even though all his team mates wanted to celebrate, there was only one place he wanted to be.

He knew he had time but he also wanted to get to you as quickly as he could so he only made one stop to pick you up a few things and he made it to the hospital by 6pm. Thankfully your mum had told him where abouts in the hospital he had to go and once he made it to the maternity ward reception he didn’t have to look far to know what room you were in. Your mum walking out looking more emotional than he’d ever seen her and once she caught sight of him she ran over to give him a big hug.

‘Is she alright? I text her a few times but she didn’t reply so I presumed she was asleep’

‘Oh Mase’ she sobbed. ‘She’s here’

‘What?… what do you mean?’

‘She was born about half an hour ago, it all happened so fast’ your mum told him but he was stuck frozen.

‘Is everything alright? Are they both fine? I got here as quick as I could I had no idea-‘

‘They’re both fine Mase’ she reassured him. Holding him but his arms in hopes he would calm down. ‘Why don’t you go in and see them. I think she was about to have a nap but she’ll be over the moon to see you’

‘Okay’ he whispered. Eyes trained on the door your mum had just emerged from and with a gentle push he was making his way over.

Mason had never been so nervous before, not even before he took his penalty earlier did he feel like this but the excitement took over and before he knew it he was pushing the door open to reveal you sat up in bed and even though you looked frightened and exhausted, your eyes were full of love and he couldn’t wait to hold you.

‘Mase’ you breathed, your bottom lip wobbling as he rushed to your side, dropping all his bags in the process so he could hug you and as soon as his arms were around you you cried your heart out. All of your emotions and hormones spilling out of you as the comfort of your best friend engulfed you and he let you cry it out fully. Pulling back as your breathing started to regulate so he could kiss your cheeks and take a good look at you. ‘I’m so sorry, they told me it would be hours-‘

‘Do not say sorry, yeah’ he whispered. Pushing the hair out of your face so he could get a better look at you and the look of pride on his face made you dizzy. ‘Are you okay? Are you in pain?’

‘Yeah, it hurt like fuck’ you laughed, wiping your eyes before he took your hands in his. "They said it would take hours and then all of a sudden I was fully dilated so I couldn't even get the epidural’ you told him and his face softened. ‘I think she was just too excited to see you and congratulate you for your hat trick’ you laughed tearily and his face crumpled a little bit. ‘You played so well Mase I’m so proud of you’

‘Are you kidding me? You just pushed a whole human out. I’m proud of you’ he told you as his eyes flickered all over your face. ‘And you’re the only woman I’ve ever known give birth in red lipstick’

‘I wanted her to know what type of woman she’s got for a mum as soon as possible’ you told him with a laugh. ’Do you wanna meet her?’ You asked quietly, knowing he’s been waiting months to finally see her and the bright smile he sent your way to you all you needed to know.

‘Please’ he whispered shyly, so you nodded him over to sit in the chair next to your bed before leaning over the other side so you could pick her out from her crib. Luckily enough she was still awake and you kept your eyes on Mason's face as you handed her over.

It was like love at first sight, his eyes filling up with tears that he tried to blink away as his lip wobbled but he was a natural when he held her. Getting her comfortable in his arms as best he could before he stroked her little face and you could tell from his ragged breathing he was overwhelmed with everything.

‘Oh y/n she’s your double’ he whispered. Tracing her features gently and your heart was racing at how he was with her.

‘Yeah, you think?’

‘Of course, she’s perfect’ he whispered, softly trailing his finger dow her nose as she looked up at him in wonder but your moment was only short lived as your midwife came back in to check on you and her eyes caught Masons immediately.

‘Ooooh a boy, what’s your name handsome?’ She giggled and you laughed at his frightened face.

‘This is my best friend, Mason’ you explained and she gave you an over exaggerated wink before directing her attention back to him.

‘Well Mason, I’m not sure if you know this but babies really benefit from a little skin to skin when they’re born.’

‘What?’ He breathed. Looking at you for help but the shrug of your shoulder let him know you weren’t about to help him.

‘It’s true, releases good hormones apparently and will help her immune system’

‘I’ve only just got here and you already want me bloody undressed’ he muttered, passing you back your little bundle of joy before undressing his top half and you felt your heart flutter a little at the sight of him. You hadn't seen him in this state for a long time and you couldn't believe how much he’d bulked out but you pushed everything down as you began to unwrap your daughter to hand over to him. Feeling yourself melt even more as he settled her back against his chest and you wrapped a blanket around them to keep them warm.

‘Hey, y/n? Have we got a name yet? I want to introduce myself properly’ he told you seriously. You’d had a name for a while but you wanted to make sure it fit her face and you wanted to discuss it with him too just in case he thought it was a bad idea.

‘I think I do, yeah. Mase this is Ginevra, Gee for short’ you told him softly. ‘I wanted to name her after my Italian great grandmother, you know the one I only met once?’

‘I remember’ he smiled ‘Hey baby Gee, it’s so nice to finally see you’ he told her looking down into her eyes that were staring right back into his. ‘We’re gonna be best friends, me and you’ he told her. Listing off all the adventures he was planning for them and you knew in that moment that it didn’t matter about Jack or anyone else, she would always have Mason.

It was the start of a beautiful friendship between the pair of them and even though being a new mother was difficult and required a lot of adapting, Mason always made sure he gave a helping hand.

You felt awful, letting him give up his free time to help you raise a baby that wasn’t even his but you could see he was in his element. His caring nature coming out in full force whenever Gee was around and you loved the way this extended to you too. Not that he hadn't always been caring but it was like he was extra gentle now.

Whenever he had a few hours free he would make sure to visit, even if it wasn’t for long but it always brightened your day to see him and it definitely brightened Gee’s. Next to you, he was becoming her favourite person.

You loved being back at home but there was something missing. A deep need inside of you to stop relying on your family and to give your daughter the life she deserved on your own. You had always tried to be as independent as you could but living off your parents and Mason was starting to take its toll.

Gee was the most special little girl in the whole world. You couldn’t believe you’d created a human so kind and funny and silly and after dreaming about your baby for so long, it was unreal to finally have her in your arms.

You had three months left of maternity leave when work checked in on you. You figured it was just for a general update but after a long talk they were offering you something you couldn’t refuse. A way out of the life you were currently in and you didn’t even think twice before saying yes.

Mason could tell there was something on your mind from the first look at you. He’d come over for a few hours after training just like usual and aside from a quick hello, you mostly sat in silence. Never one to push you though he let you sit a stew for a while as he laid with Gee on the floor. Tapping the toys hanging from the frame attached to her play mat so they dangled above her and as she laughed excitedly he would tickle her tummy to make it even worse so her giggles filled the quiet room.

He was so good with her, which made what you were about to tell him all the more difficult. Not having the courage to do it right then and there but after a little while you couldn't hold it in. Asking him to come and sit next to you on the sofa and he carefully picked up Gee so he could cradle her in his arms as you spoke and you looked on with a big smile as she playfully held his finger.

‘So the company I work for, they’re having a bit of a shuffle around and things are gonna be different when I go back’ you started but his face turned to one of anger immediately.

‘You’re not loosing your job are you? They’re not allowed to do that’ he told you seriously but you just smiled and shook your head.

‘No Mase I’m not losing my job’ you laughed. ‘I’m getting a promotion actually’

‘Oh no way, that’s amazing’ he smiled. His whole face lighting up now he knew they weren’t trying to get rid of you but now you knew the hard part was coming where you needed to explain what was actually going on.

‘Yeah they’re opening a new office and they want me to run my own department there, like it’s all getting set up for when I’m back it’s really exciting’

‘I’m so proud of you’ he smiled but he noticed the way your face had fallen and that you looked slightly nervous. ‘What’s up? You don’t look too happy about it’

‘No I am I am, it’s just, well it’s a big change’ you explained but his kind smile hadn’t faltered and you knew you were about to crush his whole world.

‘I know it is, but you can do’

‘Mase?’ You gulped. Looking down into your lap as you held the heart of the necklace he’d gifted you all these years ago. Hoping it would give you the strength you needed like it always did.

‘Yeah?’

‘It’s in Manchester’

‘What?’ He asked. Looking up to say his face contorted in confusion and even though you knew you had to explain more, a weight felt like it had been lifted.

‘The job. It’s in Manchester’

‘Oh’ he breathed. Looking slightly bewildered by everything you were saying and as he carried on speaking you knew you’d have to break it down a bit more for him. ‘That’s a pretty long commute isn’t it? A couple of hours each way at least. Can you work from home?’

‘I can work from home Mason, yes. But I also need to be in the office’ you breathed. Ready to give him the final blow and as you looked into his sweet brown eyes, you knew this would hurt him more than anything. ‘That’s why I’m moving there’

‘You’re what?’

‘I’m moving to Manchester, Mason’

You watched his face fall, eyes dropping down to Gee who was quietly laying in his arms and when he looked back up you could see his eyes were full of tears.

‘Please don’t take her away from me’ he whispered, his voice thick as his bottom lip wobbled and your heart broke for the boy sitting next to you.

‘No Masey, no I’m not taking her away from you I promise’ you told him, your own eyes burning as you tried to comfort him but you could tell he was distraught at the thought of not being close to her anymore.

‘I can’t lose you guys, I’ve lost you once and I can’t-‘

‘Mase no, come here’ you asked him. Holding your arms out for him to fall into and once he was settled comfortably you scratched over his scalp just how he liked it. ‘You won’t lose us I swear, we’ll be back all the time okay and you can come visit whenever you want. I just… I need to do this. For me’ you sighed. ‘I wanna give Gee the best life I can, okay?

‘I can do that, I’ll give you guys everything you need-‘

‘Mason, my minds made up’

‘But why’ he pouted. Knowing there was more to the story than you were giving him and the look in his eyes made you realise you had to be completely honest.

‘I can’t be here anymore Mase. Everywhere I look I see him and I just hate feeling like this. I need a fresh start’ you confessed and you watched his face drop instantly as a look of understanding washed over him.

‘Hey hey, it’s alright’ he whispered, sitting up and pulling you into his side. ‘If it's what you need to do then I’ll support you, okay? I’m not gonna sit here and act like I’m thrilled about the whole thing but whatever you need then I’m here for you’ he reassured you.

‘Thank you’

‘And you best believe I’m gonna be visiting every second I get a chance so you better get somewhere with a guest bedroom’

‘I will, I promise’ you laughed. Trying to hold back a sob but it was no use. Yes this was what you needed but it was tough on everyone and you hated upsetting Mason more than anything. ‘You knew you’re always gonna be my best friend Mason. Distance won’t change that’

‘I hope so’ he whispered tearily and you felt your heart break for the millionth time.

Tag list - @saltyheartnightmare @harvestmount @prideofpd @sid-vii @carlottawllms @footiehoemcfc @katharinanadiaa @whenelifallsinlove @neverinadream @cityzenchick @msnmnt @stikkibun @masonmtxo @chillymountsjess @yoursselo @maseymm @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @leclerc13

[lloydskywalkers]

Imperium's Worst-Compensated Wage Worker

Or the perils of minimum wage, brought to you by the Good Empress Beatrix. (fighting writer's block with this admittedly silly and very much non-canon oneshot. like it could technically happen around season one? if the writers acknowledged the oni/dragon thing again? but in the meantime i thought it'd be funny.)

Not that Dyne’s opinion has any genuine bearing upon the Good Empress Beatrix’s decisions, much less Dr. LaRow’s often intense (and as he’s recently learned, morally bankrupt) dedication to powering Imperium, but the latest dragon they’ve hauled into the lab is…strange. 

Primarily because it is not, in fact, a dragon. 

“Oh, it’s a dragon alright,” Dr. LaRow says. “Well, partly. You should take the time to dig into Ninjago’s myths and history, if you have the chance, it’s all very fascinating. The genealogy alone is a mess.”

The dragon(?) makes a dry sound. Dyne risks glancing at the figure imprisoned in the golden barrier. They look rather bored, all things considered. You’d almost think that they were the one observing an imprisoned Dr. LaRow, instead of the other way around.

They also look nothing like a dragon. 

“Isn’t that right?” Dr. LaRow grins at the figure. “You’ll have to tell me about this supposed Oni part of your heritage. Your history books are fairly uninformative. That is, if you’re able to talk after I’ve started draining you.”

The prisoner simply smiles back, their teeth a little too sharp to be normal. Dyne feels his skin crawl as unnaturally green eyes rove over the lab. They land on him for only a beat, but it’s long enough to leave Dyne feel like he’s been lasered through. 

He feels he should probably give Dr. LaRow’s “not human” diagnosis a bit more credit. 

Unfortunately, Dyne also has the sinking feeling that Dr. LaRow is messing with something she absolutely, a hundred percent, should not be. Like those terrible movies his friend used to screen in private, where the witless explorers ignore every warning and awake an ancient evil that melts the flesh from their faces. 

That’s what those eyes feel like — a flesh-melting stare of green. 

“You could always save me the trouble and start talking now.” Dr. LaRow makes a mockery of knocking her fist against the barrier. “Did you bite your tongue? You were so loud when they brought you in.”

The person — dragon, dragon, he needs this job — stares at the ceiling long-sufferingly. 

“Hm.” Dr. LaRow clicks her tongue. “We’ll see how quiet you are after we start taking that power of yours.”

That one’s enough to prompt Dyne to speak up. He’s been having enough of a crisis over the reality that they drain living dragons down here. Draining the drag— alright, prisoner — is an entirely new crisis just waiting for him.

“Excuse me, great Dr. LaRow,” he says, sweating. “The prisoner — are we sure it’s safe to drain it like we do the dragons? They aren’t exactly…the same.”

“Safe?” Dr. LaRow’s eyebrows shoot up. “Tell me, guard. Are you here to ask questions?”

Dyne wisely holds his tongue. Dr. LaRow nods in satisfaction. 

“It’s a dragon, alright. My energy sensors are never wrong!”

Dyne wants to question if her sensors might have a bad day every once in a while, but he also likes living in relative peace. 

It simply doesn’t make sense. The prisoner doesn’t look a thing like the other dragons. Of course, they also don’t look entirely human, features too-sharp and eyes too-bright, but the tousled blond hair and tanned skin, now darkened in blood and bruises from the scuffle, could pass for any other Imperium citizen. 

There’s also a distinct lack of wings, or scales, or actual draconic characteristics of any sort. 

“And they tell me there’s quite a bit we can get out of you,” Dr. LaRow tells the prisoner.

The prisoner’s brow furrows, the action pulling at the bruising gash at their right temple enough that a new stream of blood traces down their cheek. Their expression twitches, but they continue to hold Dr. LaRow’s stare. 

“I think I’ll enjoy this,” Dr. LaRow grins widely. 

_____

As they reach the twenty-four hour mark since the prisoner’s capture, Dr. LaRow is most certainly not enjoying this. 

“—unbelievable, what useless imp decided to short out the entire draining system, the wiring’s in shambles—”

Dyne watches as Dr. LaRow storms around the lab, fuming as she tosses through tools. He holds his blaster close to his chest, as if it will protect both him and his job from her wrath.

From the corner of his eye, he can spot a disturbingly smug grin creeping up the prisoner’s face. Dyne wonders if it was less a useless imp who shorted out the wiring and more a supposed dragon. 

He’s also elected to abandon calling them a dragon altogether. He’s likely to start laughing if he does, and Dyne is clinging to his sanity enough as it is. 

Dr. LaRow finally slams her fist against the control panel, cursing. With a look as if someone’s made her swallow a lemon, she keys in a complicated string of numbers on the control panel, the barrier around the prisoner shuddering as the floor creaks. The prisoner looks mildly concerned, but as it ends as soon as it began, they retreat to their look of utter apathy once again. 

“It’s your lucky day,” she grits out at the prisoner. “Looks like we’ll give you some time to catch your breath before we draining you.”

The prisoner simply crosses their legs, clasping their hands in their lap as they stare at the ceiling.

“In the meantime,” Dr. LaRow huffs, swiping at her data pad. “I may as well get what I can out of you. I’m not as used to working with subjects who can talk back, so this is an interesting experience for us both.”

The prisoner says nothing, their eyes glazing over as they continue staring at the ceiling, as if Dr. LaRow’s existence is as interesting as dirt. Dyne has to applaud their nerve — Dr. LaRow looks as if she’s about to pop a vein.

“You know, while I was researching your backwater realm’s history, I came across a good deal about a Green Ninja,” she tries. “I suppose it’d be an obvious assumption, simply because you prefer one color. But I do wonder.”

“If you’ve stuck me in here for being part-dragon,” the prisoner finally sighs. “You probably know enough.” 

“So you admit it,” Dr. LaRow smiles in triumph. “You’re one of your realm’s guardians. The lead one, if I’m correct.”

The prisoner’s eyes roll briefly back in their head, and they return to saying nothing. 

Dr. LaRow grits her teeth, smile growing tight. “Such a fun little color-coded group. When you run dry, I’ll move onto them next. I can start with the blue one, or the red one—”

“Don’t.” The prisoner’s voice cracks across the lab, louder and colder than anything else they’ve said. For the first time since the guards dragged them in, a truly vicious anger burns in their eyes. “Don’t you dare touch them.”

“Hmm, is that a sore spot?” Dr. LaRow seems thrilled, typing at her pad. “Interesting, interesting.”

The prisoner bares their teeth, looking for the first time somewhat like the dragon they’re supposed to be. And perhaps Dyne is just overtired, or he’s bought a little too much into the myths from Ninjago Dr. LaRow’s been having them all comb through, but the lab suddenly feels much smaller, as if the air’s being compressed. His skin prickles, hair standing on end again, and his flight or fight reaction kicks up about twenty notches. 

If Dyne didn’t know that running would probably end in Dr. LaRow feeding him to an actual dragon to silence him, he’d be booking it out of the lab already.

The prisoner glares at Dr. LaRow for a moment longer, eyes turning a violent green — then they jerk back, expression contorting. Dyne lets out a quiet, shaky breath as he finds himself breathing easy again. 

Dr. LaRow smirks as the prisoner glares at the shimmering floor beneath their feet in consternation, the clinical metal pulling back to reveal ugly, roughly-constructed black stone shot through with streaks of yellow. 

“I was hoping that dealer wasn’t upselling me,” she says, tapping at her data pad cheerfully. “That stone cost us quite a bit.”

A string of muttered curses escapes the prisoner’s mouth. 

“—do people keep getting their hands on this like it’s buy-one-get-one-free at the mall, it isn’t that common—”

“Though it will be annoying,” Dr. LaRow’s expression sours again. “Having to admit that Rapton scrounged up something useful for once.”

As the prisoner now looks like they’re planning a particularly violent list of future murders in their head, Dyne takes a careful, measured step back and tries to pretend he’s invisible. 

_____

Dyne considers himself a decent person. Most times, he sleeps just fine at night with the knowledge that he’s done his best to live a moral and upstanding life as a good citizen under the Good Empress Beatrix. 

And until now, he’s been perfectly content in his position as a guard of Imperium. Helping safeguard their great empire and its citizens is a noble duty, one he takes great pride in. 

This was all before he got moved down to the labs for being “a remarkably wise and clearheaded individual” — which he’s now learned is code for “knows how to keep his mouth shut”. 

Three days in to the new position, and two days into having taken what’s definitely not a dragon in for draining, all of that is crashing down around his head.

“There we go,” Dr. LaRow adjusts her glasses, smiling as the row of monitors flicker back to life. “All back online and ready to go. I should probably invest in more of that stone, just in case…”

The prisoner shoots her a particularly rude gesture from behind the glowing barrier. They look a little worse for wear today, the bruising at their temple having turned an ugly, mottled purple. The dark circles beneath their eyes nearly match it shade for shade, and a portion of their blond hair is crusted with dried blood. 

It must hurt, though you’d never know it, from the prisoner’s increasingly heated glares.

Dyne swallows. He knows very well that forcibly draining the life force out of any being is bad. He knows it’s even worse to stand by and watch the life force get drained out of a person who’s noticeably younger than he is.

He also knows that he’s going to end up with Dr. LaRow’s socket wrench through his skull if he tries to protest. Which leaves him at a bit of an impasse. 

“You’re making a mistake,” the prisoner speaks up quietly, as Dr. LaRow preps the system.

“Oh, I really don’t think I am,” she says. “You’re going to help me power Imperium for the better, you know? Well, I suppose you wouldn’t know too much about all this, coming from a backwater realm like you do.”

“What, this?” The prisoner waves their hand at the glowing barrier. “No, no, I’m familiar. Been there, done that. Last time I was in an exploding plane, it was a lot more exciting.”

Dyne’s eyebrows shoot up despite himself. As if sensing his curiosity, the prisoner’s eyes flick to him, their mouth twitching. 

Dr. LaRow makes an irritated sound. 

“Keep an eye on it, alright? I need you to make sure it doesn’t keel over dead or anything,” Dr. LaRow instructs him, acknowledging to Dyne for the first time in…well. Perhaps it’s better if he doesn’t think about that.

Sanity hanging on by a thread, and all.

“You could at least say keep an eye on him,” the prisoner mutters. “I��am a person. With a name, if anyone cares.”

They — he, Dyne corrects, because he does have some semblance of a conscience — looks irritated, but in a very exhausted way, as if he’s been in this particular situation enough times to find it boring. 

Dr. LaRow smiles tightly. “Let’s see how that nerve of yours holds up now, shall we?” She twists the dial with a savage kind of enthusiasm.

To his credit, the prisoner manages to mask any reaction as first, only tensing up as the golden barriers surge to life. He’s bitten his lip, but otherwise he seems just as unruffled as he’s been.

Then Dr. LaRow triples the intensity, and the prisoner crumples forward, barely catching himself on his hands as he shudders in pain. 

“Oh, not cool,” he wheezes, fingernails digging into the floor. “Ow, hell—”

“There we go,” Dr. LaRow says, her glasses glinting in the golden light as she studies the readings gleefully. “See that, mildly competent guard? It’s as dragon as they get. We can power a whole block with this!”

“Wonderful,” the prisoner rasps, fingernails now biting into his arms as he steels himself against the obvious pain. “Getting used as — a literal battery — no-ow, ow, ow. Powering — small kitchen appliances — that’s me.” 

Dr. LaRow clicks her tongue. “I don’t suppose you’d want to rate your discomfort on a scale from one to ten?” she says sweetly. “It’s important that all my subjects feel they have a voice.”

“Two — out of ten,” the prisoner gasps. “Overlord — did it better. Get on his — level, and we’ll talk.”

“Overlord,” Dr. LaRow says, tapping at her data pad. “I’ll have to track him down next.”

Absently, she twists the dial a level higher. Dyne cringes. 

The prisoner bangs his head against the floor, his cursing muffled. 

“Hmm, we aren’t getting as much out of you now,” Dr. LaRow mutters, tapping at her data pad. “Maybe you have a lower limit than most dragons.”

“Hope you choke,” comes the seething response. “Gonna — bite you, when they…break me out…”

“Break you out? Our security is the most advanced in all the realms,” Dr. LaRow laughs. “We’re more than prepared for any threat that would try to free you.”

Despite the clear pain the prisoner’s in, his lips twitch.

“Not prepared for Nya,” he mutters, before cutting off in a strangled swear as Dr. LaRow ups the intensity yet another level. 

Dyne resist the urge to bury his face in his hands. 

Oh, he’s most certainly developing another six crises after this. 

He knew he should’ve just applied for garden maintenance.  

_____

A little over forty-eight hours in, Dyne decides he can only take so much without doing anything. 

Dr. LaRow went ahead and tossed the prisoner in one of the holding cells after draining what she could, called away by Empress Beatrix for what’s likely not anything good, and probably something incredibly destructive and morally bankrupt. 

She’s also neglected to give the prisoner any kind of hydration. If he were actually a dragon, this might not be as much of a problem, only two days in. But considering Dyne’s very logical assumption that he isn’t, it could prove a somewhat deadly problem. 

So with Dr. LaRow stuck catering to Empress Beatrix’s every whim for the rest of the day, Dyne feels somewhat confident in his decision. 

One water bottle never led to an entire prison break, did it? 

The prisoner stares at the bottle Dyne’s shoved through the barrier opening, brow furrowed.

“It’s not poisoned,” Dyne says, quickly. “Or drugged, or anything. I wouldn’t — that’d be stupid.”

The prisoner’s mouth quirks. 

“Thanks,” he says, taking the bottle. His voice is a little raspy, but much softer now that he isn’t violently cursing out Dr. LaRow. 

He proceeds to tear the top off and chug the entire thing. 

“I can, ah, bring more,” Dyne says, slightly horrified. “I should’ve grabbed another.”

“Mmh, no worries,” the prisoner says, polishing off the bottle. He glances at Dyne.  

 “I guess you probably couldn’t smuggle food in,” he says, visibly wilting and pretending he isn’t. 

Dyne shifts, at war with himself. 

Well, a packaged snack bar never led to an entire prison break either, did it?

“Oh, fank eff-ess-em.” The prisoner barely takes time to breathe as he devours the bar. “Owe you one for d’at.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Dyne says, before abruptly remembering he’s supposed to be an intimidating guard. It’s the prisoner’s fault, for acting so weirdly casual about being imprisoned. 

“Nah, people don’t really think about this part often,” the prisoner says. “They lock you up and assume you’ll just survive without eating or drinking anything. I mean, if you’re gonna rant about how you need my strength all day, at least make sure I have any, and I’m not like, a corpse by day six, you know?”

Dyne adds weirdly friendly toward obvious enemies to the list.

“Anyways, thank you,” the prisoner finishes off the last of the ration bar, looking far more at ease. “It must be a pain, working under that doctor all the time.”

“I am fortunate to have such a trusted position in the great workings of Imperium,” Dyne recites on instinct. “Helping Dr. LaRow detain prisoners such as yourself is a…it’s a…”

The prisoner raises an eyebrow. 

Dyne deflates. 

“Yeah, maybe work on your elevator pitch there.” 

“Apologies, prisoner.” 

“Y’know, I do have a name,” the prisoner sighs.

Dyne winces. “Oh, yes. Well, obviously. What…is it?”

He smirks. “I’ll tell you when I’m out of here.”

“Ah.” Dyne isn’t sure how to respond to that one.

“No offense, I just don’t know how much you know, and I don’t wanna risk it. I kinda have a bad track record with people out to get me.” 

“No, that’s…I don’t blame you,” Dyne says, staring at his boots. “Considering the situation.”

The bars between them loom dramatically. Dyne begins his seventh moral crisis. 

The prisoner eyes him, almost curious. The expression looks far more at ease on his face than the glares he’s been routinely sending Dr. LaRow’s way. It also makes him look a good deal younger, which does absolutely nothing for Dyne as he begins his eighth crisis of crippling guilt. 

“Hey,” the prisoner says. “Have you guys heard of Starfarer here?”

_____

At five in the morning on day four, Dyne finds himself listening intently as the prisoner tells him about the time a realm came to life as an eldritch tentacle monster of doom and tried to swallow Ninjago — or something like that, the prisoner keeps getting fairly heated talking about this one, so the finer details are lost — when they’re interrupted by the distant, muffled sound of an explosion. 

Dyne goes tense, grabbing for his blaster. His first thought is that it’s simply Dr. LaRow having a mid-morning experiential mishap, as those are fairly normal.

The screeching alarm that goes off, followed by the distinct sound of screaming, dashes those hopes. 

“Are we under attack?” Dyne mutters faintly. “No one attacks Imperium.”

The prisoner smiles, stretching back in the cell. “Tell that to Kai.”

“Who is Kai?”

“Don’t worry about it,” the prisoner waves his hand. “Just stay back near me, okay? Definitely clear of the doors. And uh, try not to look like you had a big part in this.”

“But I did have a big part of this,” Dyne says, weakly.

The prisoner shrugs. “Those snack bars were killer. You can have a pass.”

“I don’t think I—”

“You sneaking, underhanded little animal!”

Dr. LaRow bursts into the lab, glasses askew and hair a frizzled mess. She jabs her finger toward the prisoner, seething. “You led them right to us!”

“Hey, animal kinda crosses a line,” the prisoner frowns. 

“How did you contact them!” She bangs her fist against the barrier. “How did you let them in!”

“I didn’t do anything,” the prisoner says. “I’ve been sitting here, nice and behaved, in this stupid cell.”

“Then how—”

Another explosion rocks the building, this one much closer. 

The prisoner cups his chin in his hand, grinning at Dr. LaRow. “Say, when you were doing all that research on me,” he says. “You didn’t happen to dig any deeper into the other, highly powerful ninja, did you?”

“Of course I did,” she snaps. “And I’ll be sure to drain them dry once I’ve disposed of you.”

“Uh-huh.” The prisoner looks entirely unconcerned. “You didn’t study enough, I guess.” 

The doors slide open with a hiss, and an Imperium guard enters the lab. 

A completely normal event on any given day, save for several noticeable things. For starters, there’s no reason for a guard of that level to be entering the cell area, unless Dr. LaRow had signaled an emergency — which is most certainly happening outside the lab, but not inside it.

That, or Dyne’s being replaced. Which he’s heard nothing about.

For another, the guard moves with far more purpose than any other guard he’s seen, taking decisive strides toward them with an intensity that rings alarm bells in Dyne’s head.

And for a final thing, with little decorum, the guard proceeds to freeze the doors shut solid, freeze the security cameras, and freeze Dr. LaRow’s feet firmly to the ground. 

In a panic, Dyne brings his blaster up, only to be halted by a sharp look from the prisoner. 

“Don’t,” he says. “You’ll lose.” 

As the guard shimmers, the black and golds of the Imperium armor melting away to reveal the snow white of a ninja gi, Dyne drops his blaster and takes a step back. 

He enjoys living immensely. That’s all. 

“Zane,” the prisoner breathes, his expression collapsing in relief. 

“I apologize for the delay,” the white ninja says, his own face creased in worry as he maneuvers past a frothing Dr. LaRow, who’s tugging furiously at her frozen shoes. “We were waylaid by Imperium’s forces.”

The prisoner shakes his head. “Is everyone alright?”

“That is a far better question for you,” the white ninja says, tapping something on the control pad. The golden barrier sparks, then erodes entirely away. “But no one was harmed. I simply determined that I alone would be most efficient choice to rescue you, as any efforts from Kai or Nya were likely to end in significant attention and potential loss of life.”

The prisoner stumbles forward the minute the barrier vanishes, all but collapsing against the white ninja, who moves even quicker to catch him. 

“Watch out, the floor in there’s Vengestone,” he mutters. 

“Your head is bleeding.” The white ninja’s hand flutters at the prisoner’s temple, his other hand wrapped firmly around his back.  

“S’not that bad.”

“You’re severely exhausted and your blood sugar levels are alarmingly low,” the ninja continues, voice growing colder. 

“Zane.”

“You’ve bitten through your lip again. And—”

“Zane. Not here.”

There’s a tight sigh. 

“You are also in dire need of a shower.”

“Rude,” the prisoner scowls. “You try living in a cage and coming out with great hair.”

 “—why haven’t you shot them already, you useless imbecile—!”

Dyne takes a leaf from the ninja’s book and tunes Dr. LaRow out entirely. 

“Um, I don’t mean to interrupt,” he says, quietly. “But we should probably move if the building’s exploding?”

“The building is in no danger,” the white ninja says, still fussing over the prisoner’s head. “We would never put Lloyd’s safety at risk like that.”

“Remember that next training session,” the prisoner snorts. “I’m guessing the explosions are Kai?”

“He’s incinerating their forces in what could be generously called a diversion,” the white ninja says, lips twitching. “Arin and Sora were enthusiastic about helping.”

“Of course they were.” 

 The prisoner pulls back, wobbling briefly on his feet as he brushes imaginary dirt from his gi and stretches. 

“Don’t hurt that one,” he nods in Dyne’s direction. “He’s pretty chill.”

The white ninja’s glare could freeze him dead. “He was guarding you. He helped them torture you.”

“That’s a little dramatic,” the prisoner frowns. “They were just trying to drain my power again.”

“Which still counts as torture.”

“Technically, it’s like, wildly unethical capitalism?”

 Their conversation is interrupted as a wrench comes hurtling toward their heads. The white ninja bats it away as if it were a mere fly. 

Dr. LaRow, now down her shoes and having made a mad dash for the elevator, looks possibly more furious than the time an intern spilled coffee on her favorite lab coat. 

The transparent elevator doors slide closed just in time to block the sharp projectile of ice that would’ve likely taken her head off. 

“You know what? Good riddance,” Dr. LaRow spits, already keying in the security code. “That thing isn’t worth the trouble.”

The white ninja’s expression turns flat. “That thing has a name, and he happens to be worth far more than—”

“Zane,” the prisoner murmurs. 

The white ninja cuts off with a huff. The ice forming at his hand sputters out as the elevator drops, taking Dr. LaRow with it. 

“Kai instructed me to punch the face in of whoever took your captive,” he says, disappointed. “I would’ve liked to fulfill that particular request.”

 “I’m sure we’ll get another chance.” The prisoner — now a prisoner no longer, come to think of it — turns to stare at Dyne with too-green eyes, and he feels a bit as if someone’s drilling through his head again. 

“My name, by the way,” he says. “Is Lloyd.”

Raisin a trembling hand, he waves, replying, “Dyne.”

Lloyd’s mouth pulls in a half-smile, then he jerks his head. “I’d clear out if I were you,” he says. “I don’t think LaRow’s caught up on what happens when you use energy that’s heavily Oni-contaminated in a system built for dragons.”

Dyne blinks. The white ninja looks concerned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, considering you’re looking at power from two totally opposite beings who exist to fight each other—”

“That was not what I meant, I was referring to the implications they actually drained your energy successfully, which should not be—”

“—if you try to use both energies at once, I don’t think it’s gonna—”

The lights flicker. Before any of them can react, the room rocks dangerously, sending Dyne sprawling as an explosion goes off with a shattering screech a few rooms over. 

“—turn out too well,” Lloyd finishes, weakly. 

_____

In the end, Dyne finds himself following Lloyd and the other ninja out of the labs. He then quickly finds himself socked in the face by a grappling hook, and narrowly avoiding the furious fists of a pink-haired girl that looks vaguely familiar.

“I got him! Did’ja see that?”

“Lemme go, we’ve gotta avenge Lloyd—”

“Lloyd requested that he not be harmed, Sora,” the white ninja sighs, holding back the seething girl. 

“That was a nice hit, though,” Lloyd says, smiling at the dark-haired boy responsible for the bruise forming on Dyne’s face. “You’re getting better at quick reactions.”

The boy’s smile dims as he takes in the now-spectacular mess of green and yellow bruising on Lloyd’s face. 

“Kai’s gonna murder some people, I think.”

“Yeah, on that note,” Lloyd glances at Dyne, giving him a rueful smile. “You probably want to get out of here. For your own good, and all.”

Dyne opens his mouth, only to yelp as something else in the lab behind them explodes. 

“And, uh, sorry for losing you your job?” Lloyd makes a face. “Next time, maybe go for something a little less…”

“Morally corrupt? Totally evil? Cruel and inhumane?”

“He gets it, Sora,” Lloyd sighs. 

“We will be leaving now,” the white ninja cuts in, eyes narrowed on the growing crowd of Imperium guards a street over. “If we’re to pick up Kai and Wyldfyre before we leave, we’d better be quick.”

“Got it.” Lloyd gives Dyne a final, bright smile. “Thanks for the snacks! Good luck on the job hunt.”

The pink-haired girl glares daggers at him, while the dark-haired boy makes a very obvious we’re watching you gesture with his fingers. 

“Enjoy your life,” the white ninja says. “Please keep in mind that you only kept it thanks to Lloyd.”

And with that ominous statement, the ninja take off running. 

As he watches them disappear, Dyne carefully removes his Imperium-issued helmet, and lets out a long, shaky sigh. 

Maybe there’s a job opening in the Realm of Madness. 

He’ll bet they don’t require eight-page resumés there. 

[f1-stuff]

for the wip asks: the mechanic au 👀 there is no where near enough mechanic aus and a charlos one sounds INCREDIBLE.

(P.S. i actually love ur blog. you always make me laugh 🫶)

🥹 Aw, I'm glad!! Thank you for sending an ask! This was actually one of my first F1 WIPs, but it was requiring sooo much research that I took a break that turned into a complete abandonment. But hopefully, I'll go back to it one day!

Here's a little snippet I wrote for Charles' first day in the paddock 💪

The only word his brain has the capacity for after the first day is tired. 

The minute they land in Melbourne, they’re heading to the track to begin setting up the garage for the arrival of the cars. Charles gets issued a full team kit, including socks with the Ferrari logo. As soon as he puts them on, he finally feels like it’s real. It’s really happening.

“You’re, Charles, yes?” one of the mechanics asks him in Italian while they’re setting up. “From Monte Carlo?”

He nods. “Yes, nice to meet you...”

“Alessandro. But you can call me, Alé. I believe we’re roommates.”

“Nice to meet you, Alé,” Charles says, shaking his hand. The other man seems young, but still older than Charles. “What do you do?”

“I’m a gearbox mechanic,” Alé says, smiling. “And I operate the front-right gun for the pit. My first race was Melbourne in 2017. So I know what you’re feeling right now.”

“And what am I feeling?” Charles asks, arching a brow in challenge.

“Scared as shit,” Alé says, grinning. Charles laughs, but he doesn’t have the heart to correct him. He’s not scared - if anything, he’s the most ready he’s ever felt. But he doesn’t think anyone would believe him if he said so. “Your Italian is not bad.” 

Charles knows this means it’s quite good, otherwise Alé wouldn’t have said anything. “I’ve been learning since I was a child.” Alé nods.

“Is it ‘Sharl’ or ‘Charles’?” Alé asks, pronouncing it with and without the ‘s’ sound at the end.

“Either is okay,” he says, shrugging. “I like both.”

“Well, you’re very easygoing,” Alé says, chuckling. “Very polite.” Charles smiles, but it occurs to him that maybe he’s being made fun of. He brushes it off though, focusing back on what he’s doing.

Everything, of course, becomes even more real when the cars arrive and he has to begin his real work. He’s been assigned especially to the brake department, as they’ve started to see a brake overheating issue and needed someone dedicated to monitoring them and replacing parts if necessary. 

He records the thickness of all of the brake pads and discs, so he can later examine the wear after practice and qualifying sessions. It’s a clockwise circuit, so Charles in addition to putting the slightly denser brake pads at the front of both cars, installs the heaviest at the left-front brake. They’re meant to all be the same size, but there are always slightly heavier pads and discs.

In addition to this job, he’s also part of the car crew for what will this year be Carlos Sainz’s car. He knows a bit about Sainz - he’s had a successful few seasons in Formula One already, particularly last year where he’d raced surprisingly well in the sub-par McLaren car. It was what had won him his seat, replacing Sebastian Vettel in what had been a slightly shocking decision to Charles. He’s not the only one interested in what Sainz might be able to pull off in a Ferrari.

As soon as the car is built, they’re doing pit-stop practice until late into the evening. There isn’t a curfew for Thursday, so they take advantage of every moment of time available. Charles has been assigned to the left-rear corner, where he removes the old tire from the car when it pits. 

There’s definitely a learning curve, and the tires are heavier than most people think. He’ll need to step up his workout routine if he wants to keep up with the other mechanics. On top of the sore arms he’ll surely have tomorrow, his feet are killing him after hardly sitting down since disembarking the plane. 

At one point, he takes off his shoes and walks around in just his Ferrari-issued socks, the floor feeling blessedly cool on his aching feet. However, he soon has to put his shoes back on or risk injury, which is when he discovers that he should never take off his shoes again because putting them back on is its own hell.

When he gets to the hotel room that night, he hardly says a word to Alé, who is indeed his roommate, instead collapsing face-first onto the bed, still fully clothed. He doesn’t remember closing his eyes, and he’s not aware of anything until the alarm goes off the next morning. That, of course, is when the real fun begins.

[elisysd]

4. I love you, it's ruining my life

Summary : Kyle Dawson would never be more than a childhood crush to Romy Schumacher and she had made her peace with that fact a long time ago. But when a drunken night leads her waking up next to him, new and old feelings come back to the surface and what started as a mistake quickly becomes an habit. Even if she swore to herself that she would never fall again for the world champion, her heart has other plans. After all, the heart has its reasons, of which reason knows nothing.

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: Fortnight - Taylor Swift ft Post Malone

He didn’t miss Kentucky's sun if he was honest. Or more like he didn’t miss working like a mad man under it. It had been a long time since he had sweated that much. He had spent his day with his dad taking care of the farm. It reminded him of his childhood, years before he had left the US to follow his dreams.  His father had complained a lot when he had arrived to tell them that he was there to help. But he couldn’t stand still. He hated how he had not been there when his mom told him about his dad’s stroke. It hurt him when she had said that she didn’t want to bother him while he was about to win his second title. His family was important. More important than anything. He would have dropped everything to be there. So, to ease the guilt feeling he had made sure his dad benefited from the best and most expensive treatments. It was the least he could do.

“We are thinking of upgrading the barn.” his mom told him, showing him the plans.

“We also want to buy newer equipment. You send us more money that we can use, Kyle,” his dad mumbled.

“I have too much money. It’s only fair that you get some of what I earn. After everything you’ve done for me.”

“I can still remember when you were a kid and you were begging me to tie your kart to the tractor so you could fake going fast.”

Kyle laughed. He remembered those days. It was a bittersweet feeling. He had left home at thirteen years old to integrate a school in Italy where many promising athletes who had to be away from home were studying. Everything had been made to accommodate him so he could travel for races. It had been tough but the whole experience was part of his best memories. He couldn’t forget about the many sleepovers with Ludwig and Ethan during race weekends, too. They were his brothers and he would give his all for them. 

“So, ready for the season? How is the car?” his dad asked.

“We don’t know for sure. Simulation wise, it’s nice but we only will know for sure in Bahrain.”

“You are the big favorite, though.” 

“Everyone improves each year. Winning last year doesn’t mean that it will be the case this year. Especially since we don’t know how much other teams improved.”

“I have faith in you. You will beat them.”

Kyle smiled, digging into his soup.

“I’m going to get you passes for the US races. I hope you will be able to make it.”

“We have the farm, Kyle… you know it’s tough to leave.”

“I’ll take care of everything. Accommodations, flights… just be there please. It means a lot to me.”

“We will try.”

“You say that each year.”

“We are not like your friends’ parents who don't have a job that occupies them 24/7.”

“I just want you to see me race, at least once. You’ve never come to any of my F1 races. Never seen me on the podium. And the television doesn’t count.”

He didn’t mean to sound this bitter. He saw his dad slightly flinch and his mom trying her best to ignore the tension.

“Anyway… you’ll never guess who I ran into at the supermarket earlier,” his mom said, changing the subject. After a dramatic pause for good measure, she added. “Margaret.”

“Margaret?” Kyle repeated.

“Hilary’s mom. We chatted a little bit, told her you were there and of course asked how her daughter was doing. You would be delighted to know that she landed a position as an interior designer in one of the most prestigious firms in New-York. I’ve always thought she was super smart. A beauty with a brain, truly.”

“Nice. Good for her. Really. It was her dream to work there.”

“And still no ring around her finger.”

Kyle sighed. Of course she would go there, he was surprised that she hadn’t already. She loved Hilary like her own daughter and had never really forgiven her son for breaking up with her. In her head, he would get married to her and she was crushed when Kyle dropped the news.

“Maybe you should contact her. Rekindle the flame.”

“Mom. It’s over. For good”

“But why?”

“Because I wasn’t in love with her anymore and look, it was probably the best decision ever. She is accomplishing her dreams and I’m not stringing her along.

“Love comes and goes. It’s a concept, not a linear path. You can’t love someone forever, at some point it fades and you’re just content with the person, right Richard?”

Kyle looked at his dad throwing his arms in the air as if to say he wouldn’t join the debate.

“I won’t have this conversation again, mom.”

“Your career is not everything, Kyle, you should start thinking about what you’ll do after it. And a family should be on top of your priorities.”

He didn’t bother to reply, only left the table to go outside and cool off, soon joined by his dad.

“Your mom can be annoying but she only wants what is best for you.”

“What is best for me is not Hilary.”

“She just wants to see you happy.”

“I’m happy. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You have to admit that your break up with her was very sudden and came from out of nowhere.”

“Maybe, but I did what was best for us at the time. I had to break up with her.”

“Was there someone else?” Richard asked cautiously.

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s not a no.”

“It’s not a yes, either.”

Kyle leaned against the barrier as a horse came by to nuzzle his nose in his hand.

“There is a girl that I like, I really do. But it’s hot and cold between us, she is hard to understand. One day I think there might be something and the next she doesn’t even look at me. I don’t know where this is going to lead, if even it will lead somewhere. We are different.”

“It’s not necessarily a bad thing. Maybe you need someone who challenges you.”

“She is a firefly, dad. Bright as the shiniest light when it's dark outside and gone as soon as the sun is rising or when I try to catch her.”

“Well, you just have to be quicker than her then, son,” his dad added, winking at him.

Thoughts all over the place, he wished the night would help him clear his mind. His room had not changed over the years, it was still the same one that he had grown up in. He laid on his bed and closed his eyes, letting his mind drift to Romy. Again. Talking about her, even without mentioning her name, felt nice. She was shaking up his whole world and convictions, making him do things he had never thought he would do. Like, one night stands. He was a relationship kind of guy. He liked that, he liked commitment. And he knew himself, he was falling fast, he could feel it. He also knew that Romy was not the type of woman to commit. She wanted to be free. Maybe his dad was wrong, maybe staying away was a better idea. But why did that perspective hurt him more than being rejected, then? Torturing himself, he looked at his phone, searching for her last text. The one where she had told him that there would never be something more between them. He contemplated it. He missed her. Not her body, not her lips on his. He missed her. In every way she was. If they couldn’t be more than friends, then he would be just that. A friend. Even if it was killing him inside.

He went through his phone, searching for something to send to her. She knew she was back home, she knew how much she liked horses and ironically, his parents had a few. He was not a huge fan of riding but he still liked being around them. He finally found what he was looking for.

Donny would love to meet you.

It was a picture of him from a few years ago, taken during the summer break with an appaloosa. Maybe it was straightforward but he didn’t care. He put his phone in airplane mode and went to sleep, not expecting an answer anytime soon.

He woke up the next day feeling weird, his eyes having a harder time than usual adjusting to the lights. It was blurry. He rubbed his eyes, not thinking twice about it. The stress of the new season, added to the pressure of being a two-times world champion, was probably playing on his health. He had to relax. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out and suddenly he was seeing clearer. He unplugged his phone and his heart almost dropped when he noticed Romy’s name on his screen along with a picture of her younger self, on a black horse.

I’ll meet him if you meet Indigo.

Author's note: A little trip into Kyle's family and a glimpse of his past 🥰

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

If you wanna be part of the taglist, let me know.

Taglist: @smoooothoperator-admin

[commanderbragh]

Learning From The Past

DWC May 2023

Day 1: Forgiveness

Braghaman slid off the back of his winged lion and stood quietly for a moment. He reached out to pat Valiant, but stopped as a spasm hit and his left hand started to twitch. The paladin frowned slightly and closed his left hand into a fist and then relaxed, shaking the hand open again. The spasm passing, Bragh let out a sigh and once again reached out to pat the lion who was now staring at him. 

“Don’t worry, buddy,” Bragh replied to the look. “I’m fine.” Giving the giant feline a scratch behind the ears did not immediately stop Valiant’s look, but eventually the lion relented and settled himself on the ground. “I’ll be back in a moment,” Bragh added quietly.

The forests of Elwynn surrounded the field. To the far side, he could see the familiar farmhouse and the crops that had been planted for the season. It was early still and only a few plants had started poking their way up through the dirt. The paladin’s gaze, however, soon scanned away from the farm to the closer corner of the land. There stood a small plot, a section that had been fenced off from the rest. No growing or grazing happened here. Within the fence sat two headstones.

Braghaman passed through the opening of the fence that was set at angles to prevent larger animals from wandering inside. The grass was low; likely someone had been here recently to clear the area. Bragh nodded as he moved to a spot in between the two graves and knelt down. After a moment, he looked up and glanced from one headstone to the other, looking over the family name carved into both. Larethian.

“Hi mom. Dad. Sorry it’s been so long.” The paladin took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Hope you can forgive me. It’s been a bit hectic the last couple of months.

“Things are going well. Niviene and I are busy as always, what with running the academy and training new paladins. Students are always keeping us on our toes. It’s a shame you never got to meet her. I think you’d really like her. She knows how to keep me in line. I mean, not as good as you could, mom, but she does a good job of it. And the kids are growing too fast. Already out in the world, learning their own way.”

Braghaman paused and looked away from the headstones, though his eyes never focused on anything. Then he looked back to the stone at his left.

“I’d like to think I’m doing a good job, dad. I figure if I’m half the father you were, then the kids will be lucky. Banny reminds me a lot of myself at that age. Comfortable, but not cocky. Ready to go out into the world and help where he can. I wonder where he got those ideas from,” he added quietly with a smirk. 

“Part of me feels guilty. I don’t know that I should have let him go off adventuring on his own. Part of me feels like I should still be out there. Not just to keep an eye on him, but to help with everything else. You know I’ve tried to retire a couple of times before, but it never really stuck. Always felt like I had more to contribute, more I needed to do.”

The paladin looked down at his left hand and clenched it tight enough to hear the leather glove creak a little.

“I feel a little guilty not being out there for everyone. But I know that I’m needed more here. Niviene needs me. The trainees definitely need me. I’d like to believe that Duskwood wants me around to help. And the logical part of my brain says that I can’t keep pressing my luck. Even if no one else says anything, I know I’ve lost a step. I’m not as fast or strong as I was when I was younger. I’d be in the way, sooner or later.”

Bragh stood up and leaned over to touch the headstone to his right.

“I used to feel guilty about you two, you know. Felt like if only I’d studied harder, learned quicker, done… something… different, then I would’ve been back home sooner. And I could have helped you two. It took me a long time to realize the wishful thinking there. To forgive myself for not being able to do more. It took a while, but I eventually got there. I figure this is the same thing. As much as I want to be everywhere and help everyone, I know I can’t. So hopefully I can get to the self forgiving a little quicker this time around.”

Braghaman took a step back and looked at both the headstones once more.

“I’ll come again soon.” Braghaman paused, the last thoughts for his parents being spoken from his heart instead of his lips. Then, nodding, he turned and made his way back to Valiant.

@daily-writing-challenge

[baileybooks]

Pastures

Out in the pastures the cows graze and wander over these here lands we call home. They’re wild, sure, but they’re ours now. My sons and daughters work their hands to the bone, but it’s good and honest work and what they don’t know ain’t gonna kill ‘em. Far as I know every random placed boulder or rock might as well be some unmarked grave, but I ain’t always able to tell which is which, so I just tell the kids to be real respectful around em. We got enough ghosts round these parts as it is. 

Our home ain’t fancy, it’s made of wood and tin and the windmill nearby creaks in the wind and when there’s a storm whipping about outside the walls rattle. Sometimes I get jealous of them there prairie dogs, they get to hunker down in their lil underground burrows, snuggle up with their families. We only got one room, so we sure end up snuggling but it’s different when your wife can’t sleep cos’ the youngest won’t stop fidgeting and your eldest keeps yabbering away in her sleep and the middle one has been staring up at the ceiling the whole time which honestly is just darn unnerving. Least they don’t know anything else really, otherwise I think I’d never hear the end of the complaining. 

The ploughs keep breaking, it’s the dark grass roots round here, thicker than iron in places I swear. The horses pull and pull, but this is the third one we’ve broke this season and each time is a five day trip for a new one. Our nearest neighbours are ten miles away, two lovely ladies in one of them Boston marriages. Real well spoken, I often wonder what brought them out to the wilderness round here, but our little community ain’t nosy. If you don’t tell, we ain’t gonna ask and I like that about this place. Same goes for the land. It’s a balancing act. I ain't gonna lie. I made the mistake of moving the wrong rock, or digging in the wrong place a fair few times and as I said, we got enough ghosts as it is. You upset em and they’ll sure let you know. We don’t go talkin’ about that stuff to the kids' mind, don’t wanna scare 'em’, keep the goings on quiet and maybe someday it’ll go away. My wife thinks otherwise mind and when we do talk about it, I sure get some harsh words from her. If I disturb anything it’s never on purpose and I do my best to put everything back where it belongs, even if it means putting teeth back into a skull and reburying it. 

I have my own theories about the gravesites around here, whatever it was it happened long before we was ever here. First of all they seem to be all over the place, ain’t no rhyme or reason. The ground round here is so hard to cultivate so I don’t know why anyone would try digging the soil round here (other than us mind, but anyone who moves out round here has to be some kind of crazy). I thought maybe there were people here before us, I mean, had to be if they’re leaving their bodies about, but I ain’t found a single scrap of habitation. No little trinkets buried away, no foundries of some kind of stand to or home, I mean there ain’t any trees to cut down and use. When we came out here we were told the only people we might see were travellers like us or nomadic native folks coming through, but that's rare.

But sometimes I see em just standing out in the long grass watching. That’s how I know I’ve disturbed a body, because they sure as hell crawl out the ground and come let me know. They never approach, when I’ve called out they never respond and if I try approach ‘em they vanish just as quick as they appeared. I catch the rustlin’ in the grass and I wonder if they’re getting closer. It’s unnerving sure, and I’ve got to stay calm and civil for the kids but not one of ‘em has hurt me directly yet. I just know it’s my job to go find what I did and put it right. 

The one thing we are sure of is they cause other things to go wrong. If I take more than a day to go put things right we end up with bad weather. The Milk can sour and the butter can curdle. A rat might get into the grain storage. I’m pretty sure our old horse Nell went lame and subsequently slipped her mortal coil due to them. But that was only once. They stand faraway and watch and that’s all I need to know I have to retrace my steps and put things right. There’s a reason the kids never work the plough, wouldn’t want them accidentally bringing misfortune upon themselves. Suppose that’s their old man’s job instead, but it’s a burden I’m willing to bear for ‘em. We’re happy here for the most part, our strange neighbours and all. You’ve just gotta have a knack for dealing with ‘em. The kids will understand someday, if this lil pasture is still ours by the time I'm too old to work I’ll tell em, or my wife will. She’d be first to let ‘em in on it, but I have the feeling she’d rather sell the farm first. I love her but she’s not as in love with the land round here as I am.

[perexcri]

Aaaa I can’t believe there’s only six more chapters!! I’m happy for you about the new job!!

Also 🥰🥰🥰 you continue to have first sentences on a Lock. “They pull closer, and spring washes away in thunderheads and afternoon showers to reveal a sweltering summer.”

Mike basically proposing how he does is So in Character of him tbh. I also like how he didn’t Push too hard about it. (Maybe if they do end up going to the east together, they could elope👀👀👀👀).

I’ve been trying to figure out what Will’s almost,,,wistful half-longing for leaving reminds me of, and I finally figure out. I could deffo be way off base, but it’s almost like the Elvish desire for the Undying Lands. (And tho Byler are most often compared to samfrodo, I think in this scenario they would be more like Legolas and Gimli, hopefully making sure his love dearest friend gets to go with him.) ofc, again I could be way off, but just what I was thinking.

“They grow and they learn. They speak and they smile and they laugh, and when one says something too out of line, the other lets him know with sharp glares and pointed comments. Will instinctively reaches for two sets of things now no matter what, and Mike always draws close to him, as if he’s not complete without the other by his side.” This whole paragraph !!! They!!!

Cuddles!!!!! Cuddling for safety from nightmares is !!!!!! They’re getting even closer !! I’m so dndjdic. I’m so normal about them, I swear.

I really do adore this story. It’s always a nice pick me up when the day hasn’t been the best, or turns an okay day great. I hope you know how much I appreciate u, as a writer and as a friend.

Anyway I hope you are doing well, and that the project and your upcoming job (!!!) are fun and wonderful.

i knowww!! it's almost over!! i will say all of these upcoming chapters run a little longer though, so there's at least that? i promise i'm doing my best to give them their happy ending :D

(and thanks for the well wishes on the job i am excited but so nervous but i am being so brave about it)

ajlsajlasdj i am once again making a surprised pikachu face and blushing at you pointing out something about my writing. i'm glad you liked that first sentence!! it's been so fun in this fic to describe the seasons passing and what-not. my more popular fics (like to hell and back again, cheer up baby, and what a match) all have really heavy time or place constraints, so this one has been nice to be able to let it flow more naturally and see where it takes me. it's become very near and dear to my heart, so i'm especially grateful for people like you for keeping up with it!!

yeah Mike basically proposing 👀 hrrrhmhmmmm 👀

Vee,,,i am about to reveal something about myself, and i hope you can forgive me: i honestly don't know a whole lot about lord of the rings (which is really weird considering i read the first book when i was in middle school, but i digress). i trust your judgment on this though, and i am doing some furious googling just so i can learn more about it!!

i'm glad you liked that paragraph about them growing together T_T that's been one of the parts that's been absolutely gnawing at me. like i've wanted to post it ever since i wrote it, so i'm very happy it gets to be out in the world now :D and yes, they are getting closer!! literally if i thought my brain could handle it i would proofread the next chapter and post it tonight, but i am so tired lol. it should be coming out tomorrow though!! i hope so at least, or else i might explode or something

i know i already gushed about this somewhere up there in this block of text^^^ but i truly am glad you enjoy this story so much!! i enjoy all the support i get on fics ofc, but people like you who have been regularly interacting with this one have made me feel extra special. this story means a lot to me, and i'm glad it can mean something to others now or that it can be a reason to make your day a little brighter, and in the end, that's all i can really ask for out of the stuff that i write, and it's something i've learned i really enjoy doing. i used to never share stuff i wrote with other people, but i'm slowly learning that you can never know how it might affect another person, and that sometimes it's better to share and see what happens than keep it close to your chest and never let somebody else partake in what you've made

aND YOU VEE!! i hope YOU know how much i appreciate you as a friend!! you are so sweet and kind, and i always look forward to what you have to say whenever i update anything because you're always so thoughtful and have such good insight. you're such a lovely person and a wonderful light in my life as well as others'. i hope this isn't being too Out There or whatever, but when i hit a point about a month ago where i really thought i was gonna have to put this fic aside because i was so stuck on it and just dealing with my own stuff, your messages about it really helped me keep going T_T it is not a stretch at all to say that i would not be nearing the end of this fic without you, so please know that you do so much even just by the presence you have on this webbed site and in this fandom!!

i would love to say this is the only time today i've typed up a super long reply to something when i maybe should've made it shorter, but nope!! i've been responding to ao3 comments that are just a few sentences with 2-3 paragraphs tonight. guess i'm just in a Mood huh

bUT if you are willing to put up with my drivel, i just want you to know you deserve all the best!! i am wishing you glowing flowers, as well as wonderful things for the new year and your endeavors, whether big or small!! :] 💜💜💜

[sometipsygnostalgic]

This is the post I was working on that I accidentally sent privately before I’d finished it, LOL. Thanks @imorahtarm107 for sending it back after what must have been a confusing request. 

CONT: Rebecca Sugar  has spoken before about how much they dislike the statement by press that Bubbline only became “canon” in the finale, because Sugar and Muto were working on that pairing all the way back in s3, those characters have been canonically queer the whole time. It’s not some novelty thing that was canonized at the very end just because everyone else was doing it, or that the characters were only queer and dating if they got to kiss on the mouth! 

So yeah, I was a bit salty abouta  few things. I mostly thought that season 10 had been underwhelming compared to the spectacular seasons 7 to 9. Honestly, I still stand by that opinion because those seasons were really good. 

I felt that there were some other things missing from s10, but some of those got followed up either in the finale or in Obsidian, albeit less in depth than I’d have liked (primarily the fallout to Elements on the side of the Elementals themselves - I thought this was only appropriate considering what happened in Jellybeans Have Power. Are they not terrified of themselves? What are the long term consequences of that takeover, if any? It seems much bigger than the stuff with the Lich that barely anyone knew about.)  

HOW MY THOUGHTS HAVE CHANGED

Well, honestly? Just hearing more from the crew about the problems they faced on CN, not just the AT crew but also Rebecca Sugar with SU, it clears SO much up. 

Kent Osborne said to Ghostshrimp in a podcast that, even though they knew the show was ending, the team had no idea how many episodes they had left! Unlike the earlier seasons where CN just made block orders of 52 eps, it seems like from s6 onwards, things were far less stable. CN no longer ordered consistent season lengths. I’m not sure if they instead ordered blocks of eps, or if they gave the crew a flexible budget to work from, like Legend of Korra had. 

From my observations and theories, the reason seasons 7 to 9 have so many miniseries is possibly because Adam Muto was using those as a way to appeal to what CN wanted out of Adventure Time, and therefore, to prolong the lifespan of the show. It worked really well as both standalone miniseries and as episodes of the show. Olivia Olsen commented that there were many times they thought they were on the last season but it turned out they weren’t.  Adam Muto pitched the first eps of Distant Lands originally as miniseries to “extend” season 10. He was probably hoping he would be successful! 

Unfortunately, this time he was not successful, and Kent Osborne said that the crew were taken off guard by Come Along With Me being their last ep. When they started work on it, they thought it was a special in the middle of what could be a longer season. Kent even believed they would’ve had another 26 eps left. Adam had to beg for an extra couple of months so they could figure out how they could turn what would have been a gumbald special (whatever that would have entailed) into a finale for the entire show! 

Watching Come Along With Me with the knowledge that the crew were taken so off guard changes entirely what I think of it, because what originally seemed like lazy rush jobs - Simon turning back but not having any time as himself, the ep havingt so much going on, the conflict between Bonnie and Gumbald being a bit empty - now feels like the best possible outcome!! How on earth did they make Come Along With Me as good as it was?? They gave so many characters good moments, they had the whole thematic resolution to the land of Ooo and the themes of the world going in circles but nothing staying the exact same, they paid respects to Finn’s growth, and had the outro as the finale song while showing life goes on! 

Now that I’ve had so long to process exactly what happened in the ep, I greatly appreciate so many scenes that I previously overlooked or dismissed. The intro sections by Steve and Tom are brilliant at building up tension, which is part of why the second section feels so jarring. However, the dream sequence is so funny, with interesting imagery that it’s still nice to pick apart. Jake gets to be a good brother, Finn gets to battle Fern, and you have that chilling swapperoo epiphany with Gumbald and PB. The scene where they’re all on the beach is so cathartic. 

Then the second half of the special is just intense start to finish - everyone working together at the culmination of their character arcs, to take down GOLB! Until the power of a little robot’s song turns out to be the best tool of holding it back, and Betty performs the ultimate sacrifice for her mistakes with a smile on her face. So good.  The ending scenes with Finn and the treehouse, Shermy and Beth, the music hole, those are a thematic conclusion to the show. 

So, yeah, it did a great job. To an extent it’s better enjoyed if you pick it apart than if you watch it all at once, since it’s unfortunately not as hard-hitting as a lot of the single 11-minute eps of Adventure Time, including the previous season finale Three Buckets. However it absolutely does its job.

As for Bubbline, well...  Adam was trying to get the show extended, and if anyone looks at the twitter comment I currently have as my pinned post, then you’ll understand that there’s no way PB and Marcy could have kissed or made their relationship undeniably explicit unless it was the very end of the show :/ 

Adam said himself that he didn’t see it as much his fight to battle the decisions of execs as Rebecca did. And while that hurts, it makes sense - he was the owner of someone else’s show that is a smorgas board of a large number of people’s ideas, whereas Rebecca was the owner of their own show and felt that if they weren’t able to express themself in their own show, Sugar was willing to completely take down SU. And that actually happened - Steven Universe got cancelled immediately!!! Adam was not prepared to do that with AT, especally when CN were already talking about cancelling it. 

The good news is he didn’t give up on having PB and Marcy’s relationship be at least fairly clear, especially s7 onwards. I don’t know what happened behind the scenes, but it’s likely a number of the crew members taken on at that time found it important to press for Bubbline, and Adam decidedly agreed. If someone other than him had taken over as showrunner, or even if Pen stayed in charge (he supported it but didn’t want to be wrapped in controversy), I wonder if they’d have never interacted after What Was Missing :/ 

So yeah, with that in mind, as annoying as Marcy and Hunson still is, I can forgive the crew for doing a finale kiss. Rather, I can really thank Hanna K for pressing for one - she knows how important it was to at least confirm what people had expected, without a retroactive tumblr post ala Korrasami. 

[writingwithcolor]

I'm writing an AU of a movie that takes place in the 1880s USA, where a travelling white character and a Jewish character are waylaid by Native Americans, who they befriend. Probably because it was written by and about PoC (Jews) the scene actually avoids the stuff on your Native American Masterpost, but I'd still like to do better than a movie made in the 1980's, and I feel weird cutting them from the plot entirely. I have a Jewish woman reading it for that, but are there any things you (1/1)

2/2 1880s western movie ask--are there things you'd LIKE to see in a movie where a white man and a Jewish man run into Native Americans in the 1880s? I do plan to base them on a real tribe (Ute, probably) and have proper housing/clothes and so forth, but right now I'm just trying to avoid or subvert awful cowboy movie tropes. Any ideas?

White and Jewish Men, Native American interactions in 1880s

I am vaguely concerned with how you only cite one of our posts about Native Americans, that was not written by a Native person, and do not cite any of the posts relating to this time period, or any posts relating to representation in media. 

Sidenote: if you want us to give accurate reflections of the media you’re discussing, please tell us the NAME. I cannot go look up this movie based off this description to give you an idea of what my issues are with this scene, and must instead trust that the representation is good based off your judgement. I cannot make my own judgement. This is a problem. Especially since your whole question boils down to “this scene is good but not great and I want it to be great. How can I do that?”

Your baseline for “good” could very well be my baseline for “terrible hack job”. I can’t give you the proper education required for you to be able to accurately evaluate the media you’re watching for racist stereotypes if you don’t tell me what you’re even working with.

When you’re writing fanfic where the media is directly relevant to the question, please tell us the name of the media. We will not judge your tastes. We need this information in order to properly help you.

Moving on.

I bring up my concern for you citing that one—exceptionally old—post because it is lacking in many of the tropes that don’t exist in the media critique field but exist in the real world. This is an issue I have run into countless times on WWC (hence further concern you did not cite any other posts) and have spoken about at length. 

People look at the media critique world exclusively, assume it is a complete evaluation of how Native Americans are seen in society, and as a result end up ignoring some really toxic stereotypes and then come to the inbox with “these characters aren’t abc trope, so they’re fine, but I want to rubber stamp them anyway. Anything wrong here?”. The answer is pretty much always yes. 

Issue one: “Waylaid” by Native Americans

This wording is extremely loaded for one reason: Native American people are seen as tricksters, liars, and predators. This is the #1 trope that shows up in the real world that does not show up in media critique. It’s also the trope I have talked about the most when it comes to media representation, so you not knowing the trope is a sign you haven’t read the entirety of the Native tag—which is in the FAQ as something we would really prefer you did before coming at us to answer questions. It avoids us having to re-explain ourselves.

Now, hostility is honestly to be expected for the time period the movie is set in. This is in the beginnings (or ramping up) of residential schools in America* and Canada, we have generations upon generations of stolen or killed children, reserves being allocated perhaps hundreds of miles from sacred sites, and various wars with Plains and Southwest peoples are in full force (Wounded Knee would have happened in 1890, in December, and the Dakoa’s mass execution would have been in 1862. Those are just the big-name wars. There absolutely were others). 

*America covers up its residential schools abuse extremely thoroughly, so if you try to research them in the American context you will come up empty. Please research Canada’s schools and apply the same abuse to America, as Canada has had a Truth and Reconciliation Commission about residential schools and therefore is more (but not completely) transparent about the abuse that happened. Please note that America’s history with residential schools is longer than Canada’s history. There is an extremely large trigger warning for mass child death when you do this research.

But just because the hostility is expected does not mean that this hostility would be treated well in the movie. Especially when you consider the sheer amount of tension between any Native actors and white actors, for how Sacheen Littlefeather had just been nearly beaten up by white actors at the 1973 Academy Awards for mentioning Wounded Knee, and the American Indian Religious Freedom Act had only been passed two years prior in 1978. 

These Native actors would not have had the ability to truly consent to how they were shown, and this power dynamic has to be in your mind when you watch this scene over. I don’t care that the writers were from a discriminated-against background. This does not always result in being respectful, and I’ve also spoken about this power imbalance at length (primarily in the cowboy tag).

Documentaries and history specials made in the 2010s (with some degree of academic muster) will still fall into wording that harkens Indigenous people to wolves and settlers as frightened prey animals getting picked off by the mean animalistic Natives. This is not neutral, or good. This is perpetuating the myth that the settlers were helpless, just doing their own thing completely unobtrusively, and then the evil territorial Native Americans didn’t want to share.

To paraphrase Batman: if I had a week I couldn’t explain all the reasons that’s wrong.

How were these characters waylaid by the Native population? Because that answer—which I cannot get because you did not name the media—will determine how good the framing is. But based on the time period this movie was made alone, I do not trust it was done respectfully.

Issue 2: “Befriending”

I mentioned this was in an intense period of residential schools and land wars all in that area. The Ute themselves had just been massacred by Mormons in the Grass Valley Massacre in 1865, with ten men and an unknown number of women and children killed thanks to a case of assumed association with a war chief (Antonga Black Hawk) currently at war with Utah. The Paiute had been massacred in 1866. Over 100 Timpanogo men had been killed, with an unknown number of women and children enslaved by Brigham Young in Salt Lake City in 1850, with many of the enslaved people dying in captivity (those numbers were not tracked, but I would assume at least two hundred were enslaved— that’s simply assuming one woman/wife and one child for every man, and the numbers could have very well been higher if any war-widows and their children were in the group, not to mention families with multiple children). This is after an unknown group of Indigenous people had been killed by Governor Brigham Young the year prior, to “permanently stop cattle theft” from settlers. 

The number of Native Americans killed in Utah in the 1800s—just the number of dead counted (since women and children weren’t counted)—in massacres not tied to war (because there was at least one war) is over 130. The actual number of random murders is much higher; between the uncounted deaths and how the Governor had issued orders to “deal with” the problem of cattle theft permanently. I doubt you would have been tried or convicted if you murdered Indigenous peoples on “your” land. This is why it’s called state sanctioned genocide.

This is not counting the Black Hawk War in Utah (1865-1872), which the Ute were absolutely a part of (the wiki articles I read were contradictory if Antonga Black Hawk was Ute or Timpanogo, but the Ute were part of it). The first official massacre tied to the war—the Bear River Massacre, ordered by the US Military—places the death count of just that singular massacre at over five hundred Shoshone, including elders, women, and children. It would not be unreasonable to assume that the number of Indigenous people killed in Utah from 1850, onward, is over a thousand, perhaps two or three.

Pardon me for not reading beyond that point to list more massacres and simply ballparking a number; the source will be linked for you to get an accurate number of dead.

So how did they befriend the Native population? Let alone see them as fully human considering the racism of the time period? Natives were absolutely not seen as fully human so long as they were tied to their culture, and assimilation equalling some sliver of respect was already a stick being waved around as a threat. This lack of humanity continues to the present day.

I’m not saying friendship is impossible. I am saying the sheer levels of mistrust that would exist between random wandering groups of white/pale men and Indigenous communities wouldn’t exactly make that friendship easy. Having the scene end be a genuine friendship feels ignorant and hollow and flattening of ongoing genocide, because settlers lied about their intentions and then lined you up for slauther (that’s how the Timpanogo were killed and enslaved).

Utah had already done most of its mass killing by this point. The era of trusting them was over. There was an active open hunting season, and the acceptable targets were the Indigenous populations of Utah.

(sources for the numbers: 

List of Indian Massacres in North America Black Hawk War (1865-1872))

Issue 3: “Proper housing/clothes and so forth”

Do you mean Western style settlements and jeans? If yes, congratulations you have written a reservation which means the land-ripped-away wounds are going to be fresh, painful, and sore.

You do not codify what you mean by “proper”, and proper is another one of those deeply loaded colonial words that can mean “like a white man” or “appropriate for their tribe.” For the time period, it would be the former. Without specifying which direction you’re going for, I have no idea what you’re imagining. And without the name of the media, I don’t know what the basis of this is.

The reservation history of this time period seems to maybe have some wiggle room; there were two reservations allocated for the Ute at this time, one made in 1861 and another made in 1882 (they were combined into the Uintah and Ouray Indian Reservation in 1886). This is all at the surface level of a google and wikipedia search, so I have no idea how many lived in the bush and how many lived on the reserve. 

There were certainly land defenders trying to tell Utah the land did not belong to them, so holdouts that avoided getting rounded up were certainly possible. But these holdouts would be far, far more hostile to anyone non-Native.

The Ute seemed to be some degree of lucky in that the reserve is on some of their ancestral territory, but any loss of land that large is going to leave huge scars. 

It should be noted that reserves would mean the traditional clothing and housing would likely be forbidden, because assimilation logic was in full force and absolutely vicious at this time. 

It’s a large reserve, so the possibility exists they could have accidentally ended up within the borders of it. I’m not sure how hostile the state government was for rounding up all the Ute, so I don’t know if there would have been pockets of them hiding out. In present day, half of the Ute tribe lives on the reserve, but this wasn’t necessarily true historically—it could have been a much higher percentage in either direction.

It’s up to you if you want to make them be reservation-bound or not. Regardless, the above mentioned genocide would have been pretty fresh, the land theft in negotiations or already having happened, and generally, the Ute would be well on their way to every assimilation attempt made from either residential schools, missionaries, and/or the forced settlement and pre-fab homes.

To Answer Your Question

I don’t want another flattened, sanitized portrayal of genocide.

Look at the number of dead above, the amount of land lost above, the amount of executive orders above. And try to tell me that these people would be anything less than completely and totally devastated. Beyond traumatized. Beyond broken hearted. Absolutely grief stricken with almost no soul left.

Their religion would have been illegal. Their children would have been stolen. Their land was taken away. A saying about post-apocalyptic fiction is how settler-based it is, because Indigenous people have already lived through their own apocalypse.

It would have all just happened at the time period this story is set in. All of the grief you feel now at the environment changing so drastically that you aren’t sure how you’ll survive? Take that, magnify it by an exponential amount because it happened, and you have the mindset of these Native characters.

This is not a topic to tread lightly. This is not a topic to read one masterpost and treat it as a golden rule when there is too much history buried in unmarked, overfull graves of school grounds and cities and battlefields. I doubt the movie you’re using is good representation if it doesn’t even hint at the amount of trauma these Native characters would have been through in thirty years.

A single generation, and the life that they had spent millennia living was gone. Despite massive losses of life trying to fight to preserve their culture and land.

Learn some history. That’s all I can tell you. Learn it, process it, and look outside of checklists. Look outside of media. 

And let us have our grief.

~ Mod Lesya

On Question Framing

Please allow me the opportunity to comment on “are there things you'd LIKE to see in a movie where a white man and a Jewish man run into Native Americans in the 1880s?” That strikes me as the same type of question as asking what color food I’d like for lunch. I don’t see how the cultural backgrounds of characters I have literally no other information about is supposed to make me want anything in particular about them. I don’t know anything about their personalities or if they have anything in common.

Compare the following questions:

“Are there things you’d like to see in a movie where two American women, one from a Nordic background and one Jewish, are interacting?” I struggle to see how our backgrounds are going to yield any further inspiration. It certainly doesn’t tell you that we’re both queer and cling to each other’s support in a scary world; it doesn’t tell you that we uplift each other through mental illness; it doesn’t go into our 30 years of endless bizarre inside jokes related to everything from mustelids to bad subtitles.

Because: “white”, “Jewish”, and “Native American” aren’t personality words. You can ask me what kind of interaction I’d like to see from a high-strung overachieving woman and a happy-go-lucky Manic Pixie Dream Girl, and I’ll tell you I’d want fluffy f/f romance. Someone else might want conflict ultimately resolving in friendship. A third person might want them slowly getting on each other’s nerves more and more until one becomes a supervillain and the other must thwart her. But the same question about a cultural demographic? That told me nothing about the people involved.

Also, the first time I meet a new person from a very different culture, it might take weeks before discussion of our specific cultural differences comes up. As a consequence, my first deep conversations with a Costa Rican American gentile friend were not about Costa Rica or my Jewishness but about things we had in common: classical music and coping with breakups--which are obviously conversations I could have had if we were both Jewish, both Costa Rican gentiles, or both something else. So in other words, I’m having trouble seeing how knowing so little about these characters is supposed to give me something to want to see on the page.

Thank you for understanding.

(And yes, I agree with Lesya, what’s with this trend of people trying to explain their fandom in a roundabout way instead of mentioning it by name? It makes it harder to give meaningful help….)

--Shira

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Spare Me A Moment? // Benedict Bridgerton

Request: I’d love to request a Benedict fic, if that’s okay ☺️ Maybe one where the reader doesnt belong to the ton and works for the Bridgertons and he falls for her but she can’t quite believe it (because why would he fall for someone of her status?) but eventually admits that she has feelings for him too? I hope this is something you’d like to write 🙈 Thank you so much 💛 - @dreaming-about-fanfictions

A/N: My first Bridgerton request and it’s from my dear, Astrid! Thank you, my lovely. I only hope I have done it justice. There are moments in this that are inspired by Downton Abbey (a different time period, I know, but I adapt) and the way the fic is written is meant to jump about POVs before finally bringing the reader or Benedict as the sole focus of the scene.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: use of she/her pronouns, female reader, class differences, societal differences, pining, mutual pining, kissing, honest conversations, bridgertons being bridgertons, healthy family relationships.

Word Count: 5.4k

Of the families that resided in Grosvenor Square, there was not one so loved by their staff than that of the Bridgertons. They treated their staff fairly with decent wages and housing well as treating them with respect. The staff that work for the Bridgertons are so admired by the family that those in their employment tend not to leave for years on end; perfectly happy to remain devoted to one family.

To be a housemaid in a home such as Bridgerton House was an honour; as was repeated by the butler, Jenkins and the Head Housemaid, Mrs. Thorpe when (Y/N) began working in the house many years ago.

There was no other way to put it, (Y/N) adored working in Bridgerton House. She never minded the early starts, or the late finishes when the season was in full swing. She could never find herself bothered by having to pick up after the youngest children; their shoes and books lying about hallways and staircases, ready to cause an injury. (Y/N) was utterly devoted to the family; she could never imagine working anywhere else.

And if she had admired the second born Bridgerton with an interest that spoke to more of an employer/servant relationship, then that was (Y/N)’s cross to bear.

-----------

For months he had watched her from the centre of attention. He had observed how she held herself; tall and proud of the work she completed daily.

It had been a passing glance that had started it all. A polite smile and nod from her as Benedict passed in her the hallway, and suddenly he was hit with one, if not all, of Cupid’s arrows. After that, Benedict started to notice (Y/N) everywhere – started to notice the extra attention she paid Hyacinth when she was missing Gregory; he noticed how she would go out of her way to ensure his mother’s comfort in her drawing room, fluffing up cushions and pillows, and offering a blanket should there be a chill.

Benedict began to notice all of this and for a moment, he wondered whether he was beginning to lose his mind. He knew of the barriers between them, but that didn’t stop him from experience the raw emotion of wanting her. Benedict didn’t like to think how many hours of the day he devoted to thinking of her; dreaming of her.

All he wanted was to talk to her. To have a few minutes with her to plead his case; to help her understand that there is the very real possibility of a relationship between then should she feel the same way. How often he had dreamed of her feeling the same way…

A lovesick fool. Benedict Bridgerton was a lovesick fool but should (Y/N) spare him a moment, he would be her lovesick fool.

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

From the very moment she woke, (Y/N) had been on her feet, rushing from room to room, tidying up after everyone. The whole Bridgerton family would be descending on the main house for the final meal of the day; they were welcoming Anthony and his new wife, Kate, home from their honeymoon.

That meant everything had to be perfect. That meant there was very little time to wander through the house; Jenkins was already close to tears; he could not be pushed any further.

The chiming of the grandfather clock in the hallway has (Y/N) hastening her steps, trying not to look too rushed as she thinks of the dinner service still needing to be taken upstairs and the wine to decant and the port to breathe. Whilst Anthony had a collection of whiskies and brandies in his study, the port was kept to the realm of the butler – Jenkins knew exactly what to buy and when to serve it. Tonight was one such occasion, and it still needed to breathe.

“(Y/N)!” Benedict calls, hurrying after her as she makes her way back to her quarters to dress for the dinner service. Jenkins, the Butler, would not be best pleased if she were to show up late.

“Mr. Bridgerton, how can I help you?” (Y/N) asks, curtseying to the second-born Bridgerton before eyeing the grandfather clock and noting the time.

“Spare me a moment of your time, please?”

“You should be getting ready for dinner. I know that Benjamin has laid out your clothes.”

“I want to talk to you… only for a moment, I know you have jobs to attend to.”

Smoothing down her apron, (Y/N) smiles softly at the brunette. “What would you like to talk about?”

“I thought it was obvious but perhaps not,” Benedict murmurs to himself, practically ignoring her question.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Bridgerton but I must be getting on.”

“No!” He all but shouts, reaching for your hand, “Spare me another moment of your time… please.”

She wavers as if caught between the berating she will no doubt receive from the Butler for being late to the dinner service or letting down her employer whom she stands in front of. After a moment’s silence, her decision is made. “How can I help you, Mr. Bridgerton?” She repeats.

“Call me Benedict, please.”

She shakes her head, “I’m afraid I cannot do that, Mr. Bridgerton. It would be improper.”

Benedict hesitates; his hand still outstretched towards her as if desperate to feel her underneath his palms. “I’ve gone about this all wrong,” He says, eyes sad.

“Pardon?”

“I’ve fallen in love with you,” Benedict confesses, speaking plainly as if he hasn’t changed her world in six words.

“What?” She gasps; propriety falling away from her for a moment as the words he uttered settle into her skin.

“I’ve fallen in love with you,” Benedict repeats, voice firmer as he becomes surer of himself.

“How?” She asks, her face and voice puzzled, “I’m a housemaid, Mr. Bridgerton.”

His eyebrows furrow as if such a thing shouldn’t matter in their world. Yet it does – status is everything; titles are everything. A man who hails from a family such as the Bridgertons could not marry, let alone fall in love with one of the serving class. It simply didn’t happen. There was the occasional affair, but (Y/N) knew herself well enough not to be reserved as a mistress – it was not her destiny. She was to marry for love.

“I don’t know how it happened, but I find myself thinking of you every waking minute of the day. I find it hard not to stare at you when I see you completing your duties. At night, I long for it to be you lying next to me instead of the emptiness of the bed. I don’t know how it happened, (Y/N). All I know is that I am in love with you. This is no farce or folly.”

The words fall over her as rain would fall over grass. They soak into her skin, mould to her bones and become part of her in the span of mere seconds. Mere seconds, and her world has changed. As much as she longed to hear those words from his lips, this could not happen. Moving away from him, her chest aching with every step, she whispers her excuse to escape, “I’m sorry, Mr. Bridgerton, I need to get back downstairs.”

Watching her walk away from him, Benedict feels something heavy settle in his chest, pressing his lungs down and making it difficult to breathe. The barriers between them were so entrenched into society, Benedict begins to worry that he has lost her before he every truly got to know her.

Shaking his head, determination sets his nerves to steel. He would try again, he promises himself. He would not pester, but he would do what he could to ensure a brighter future for the both of them.

----------

“We’re down a footman,” Jenkins panics, “I’ve had to send William to bed with a head cold. We’re down one footman in the dining room.”

“What do you propose we do?” Mrs. Thorpe asks of the grey-haired man. Hands on her hips and her lips, thin, Mrs. Thorpe was not a woman to be trifled with. She had not run Bridgerton House for close to thirty years for Jenkins’ panic to ruin a single evening. So far in their shared career with the Bridgerton family, his nerves had almost ruined an engagement party, a christening, an end of season masquerade ball and now, a traditional family dinner.

The colour fades from Jenkins’ face as he mutters, “I’m going to have to have a housemaid in the dining room.”

Mrs. Thorpe rolls her eyes at the antics of the overly dramatic butler. “It won’t be the end of the world to have a housemaid in the dining room. Take (Y/N) – she’s liked well enough by the family and knows how to serve.”

Jenkins sighs wearily as if the weight of the world rests upon his shoulders. “I suppose I have no choice. Will you let (Y/N) know?”

(Y/N) is walking down the stairs to the lower levels of the house when she hears Mrs. Thorpe call her name. Turning, as she lands on the bottom step, she has a fond smile on her face for the Head Housekeeper. “Mrs. Thorpe,” (Y/N) greets.

“We’re down a footman this evening, dear,” Mrs. Thorpe says in greeting, never one to beat around the bush, “Would you be able to cover the dining room with Jenkins and Benjamin?”

“The dining room?” (Y/N) questions as the rug is pulled from underneath her feet for the second time that afternoon. It would mean having to see Benedict once more, but what choice was there.

“Yes,” Mrs. Thorpe confirms, “There aren’t enough bodies to cover the whole family. Everyone is dining tonight.”

“Of course,” (Y/N) smiles, “Of course, I’ll help. I’ll also take William a tray when I get a moment’s reprieve.”

Mrs. Thorpe smiles; the corners of her eyes crinkling from the force of it. “You are a gem. Thank you, dear.”

(Y/N) nods, smiling at the Head Housekeeper though she knows it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Having to see Benedict so soon after his confession had sent her mind into overdrive; her stomach tying itself into knots – she could only hope that the gentleman wouldn’t say anything, wouldn’t humiliate her in front of his whole family.

Mrs. Thorpe touches (Y/N)’s shoulder, asking her softly, “Is everything okay, dear?”

(Y/N) nods, trying her best not to let her emotions show on her face. She had been blindsided by Benedict and his confession; didn’t ever expect such words to leave his mouth… well, expected them but never thought they would be directed at her.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Thorpe,” She smiles and whilst the Head Housekeep returns the smile, she does not believe the one on (Y/N)’s face for a moment.

“Are you sure you’re okay to help out in the dining room? Jenkins can always find someone else.”

(Y/N) shakes her head, knowing the butler better than she knows herself. “He would cause such a panic. No, it’s better I do it myself.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am,” She pats Mrs. Thorpe’s hand. “I am sure.”

-----------

It takes everything she has to stop her hands from shaking as she enters the dining room with her tray of food. Following Jenkins’ lead, (Y/N) holds her head high as she serves the Bridgertons, beginning with Anthony and then making her way from his right.

Benedict all but freezes in his spot when (Y/N) finally comes to serve from his left shoulder. He turns in his chair to find her staring down at him; a serving plate in her hand, the tongs pointed in his direction. Their fingers brush as Benedict reaches for the utensil sending a zap of static electricity up (Y/N)’s arm. She sucks in a breathe, desperate to keep the connection between them yet she is the one who straightens, who schools her face into a mask of polite interest.

“Thank you,” Benedict whispers, still unable to take his eyes off her.

“You’re welcome,” She replies, swiftly moving onto Gregory who sits patiently by Benedict’s side.

Jenkins who had noticed the exchange between Benedict and (Y/N) clears his throat, gaining the attention of the family waiting to start their meal. “I am terribly sorry for the informality. William took ill at the last moment and (Y/N) graciously offered to fill his shoes.”

Anthony Bridgerton smiles at (Y/N). “Thank you, (Y/N), for stepping in so quickly,” He states before turning his attention to Jenkins, “Has a tray been organised for William? Do you need us to contact the doctor?”

Jenkins watches the young Viscount with warm eyes; having known the Viscount since he was a babe in arms, it has been his pride and joy to watch him grow to the man he is today. “(Y/N) has offered to take a tray to William as soon as she is finished here. As for the doctor, my Lord, it seems only to be a head cold.”

“Let us know if anything changes, please.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

As food is served and wine is poured, happy and warm conversation flows through the Bridgerton family. Laughter is the most often heard sound in the Bridgerton home; it punctuates the air whether the chuckle and giggle comes from a member of the family or a member of staff.

Tonight is no different, it seems, as Hyacinth snorts midway through her laughter at Gregory’s latest antics. Visiting home for the weekend from Eton, Gregory was on hand to entertain his brothers and scandalise his dear mother with stories of his school life.

“I do hope you are paying attention in your lessons,” Violet admonishes her youngest son though there is nothing but maternal love in her voice.

Gregory smiles widely, holding a hand over his heart as he promises, “I do nothing less.”

His words receive an amused snort from all three brothers and a roll of eyes from his mother. (Y/N) turns her face away from the loving scene to keep the smile on her face from growing. This; this is what she years for – family, love, laughter and warmth. No matter how Benedict phrases his feelings, and no matter how she may feel for the Bridgerton, a relationship that harbours the four things (Y/N) holds dear would be impossible due to her station. A sad fact, but a universally accepted truth.

The topic of conversation once again shifts; this time focusing on the latest branch in literature. A novel had been published that had managed to scandalise not only the religious community, but also the scientific one. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein was, to (Y/N), two things. Not only was it a book that promised the reader to be horrified, but it was written by a woman. Shelley was not the first female author, and she would not be the last but this latest venture into a new genre of literature inspired pride within (Y/N). With the growing availability of books through libraries, (Y/N) felt it was only time before something big happened in the fight for rights for women.

Though she kept those thoughts readily to herself.

“What do you think, (Y/N)?” Benedict asks, blue eyes sparkling over the rim his wine glass as every member of his family turns to look at her.

Eyes wide with shock, she glances over to Jenkins. He nods but he doesn’t look pleased at her having been called on by the employer. Taking a step forward, she curtsies slightly before answering, “I couldn’t possibly say, Mr. Bridgerton, sir. I haven’t read the book.”

“Come now, (Y/N),” Benedict continues, his smile growing wider, “You must have an opinion.”

“Benedict,” Violet chastises, “Leave the poor girl alone. She’s only serving tonight as William has fallen ill. There is no need to badger her.”

Violet smiles at (Y/N) apologetically as she takes a step back to the wall, her hands held neatly in front of her. Conversation soon turns to another subject, another topic which gives (Y/N) the space to breathe; to slow her racing heart.

Benedict’s eyes continue to steal glances of her figure for the rest of the meal. It feels close to a brand; the heat of his gaze burns through whatever shield she has up to the point where she is certain Benedict has laid her bare for all to see. It’s all she can think of; his keen gaze and his words to her before the meal.

Trying her best not to fidget, (Y/N) keeps her eyes focused on the portrait of a Bridgerton ancestor hung on the wall across from her. She only rouses herself from her nerves to serve the courses of the meal. (Y/N) cannot help but thank any god or deity out there when the dessert course is brought up and the meal is soon brought to a close.

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

It is easy to avoid someone when you ask for extra duties, (Y/N) thinks to herself as she carries a pile of dresses to be mended. The muslin is smooth against her skin as she lays the dresses out on the mending table before turning to find the sewing kit. Thankfully, for the dresses, there was not much to be done but mend a few holes that had torn near the hem. The danger of heels and quick walking women, (Y/N) humours.

It had been a week since the conversation with Benedict; his words constantly playing on her mind until she wakes in the middle of the night with them on her lips, as if she were reciting the conversation in her sleep.

Benedict had tried to gain her attention; he had made clear attempts at wanting to talk to her. However, she simply curtsied and went on her way. She didn’t know what to say to him; she couldn’t understand how he – the son of a Viscount, no less – had fallen in love with her.

It felt preposterous; it felt too good to be true. Yet as the oil lamps are dampened for the night and the other servants in the house have fallen asleep, (Y/N) lets herself dream of what it could be like to be loved by Benedict Bridgerton. She wonders about the curve of his mouth; what it feel like, whether he would smile into their kiss. She thinks of his hands; his long, artistic fingers and she briefly ponders whether he had ever drawn her, whether in his many sketchbooks there lies a portrait of her.

When she’s feeling a particular glutton for punishment, (Y/N) lets herself dream of a life with Benedict where class status didn’t matter. She thinks of what it would be like to wake up to him every morning; to feel the heaviness of his arm wrapped around her waist as he rises to consciousness with the sun. She yearns to know what it would feel like to be able to reach over and take his hand in hers, tangling their fingers together as if they had always meant to be intertwined.

The longing for him is what breaks her. It’s what causes the tears to roll down her face as she lets herself accept the fact that she is sure she has known for a long time. She lets herself accept that she had met the cliché of so many housemaids before her by falling in love with Benedict Bridgerton a long time ago, before he had even come to know her existence.

-----------

The drawing room on the upper level of the house was where Violet Bridgerton spent most of her day. On occasion, her sons’ joined the family, but for the most part, it was her daughters that kept her company. Violet remains occupied by her stitching patterns; a garden of tulips for the birth of Anthony’s darling new baby, however, she keeps a weather eye on Eloise and Hyacinth – her only daughters to remain at home and unmarried.

“Eloise,” Violet murmurs, “Would you be a dear and ring for some tea. My throat is parched.”

Eloise pauses in her writing; so occupied these days, Violet thinks as her second eldest daughter rises to ring for the kitchen. “What are you working on?” Violet asks, curiosity getting the better of her.

Eloise frowns, collecting the papers out of fear anyone should read them. “I’m writing to Penelope if you must know.”

“Writing? She lives just across the way, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you calling on her.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t,” Eloise allows, “But there is nothing wrong with practicing my handwriting, is there mother?”

Violet smiles; a pained one that shows her exhaustion with her beloved daughter. “No, my dear. There is no harm in that.”

Eloise nods, smiling softly at her mother before returning to her letter. Violet watches her for a moment; the way her eyes read and reread the sentences written on the page – this was not a letter to Penelope; it was to a suitor. Violet knew full well, however, that Eloise would come to her when ready – she was not someone to be pushed into giving information.

Returning to her stitching, Violet finds that her attention is once more interrupted by the opening of the door. She sighs, placing the stitching down, curious as to whether she would get the piece done before the arrival of the sweet babe.

Turning to face the door, she is surprised to find her second-born, Benedict entering the room. His eyes, sad and his expression, solemn as he runs a hand again and again through his hair.

“Mother,” Benedict greets, leaning down to press a kiss to her ageing cheek. “May I speak with you about a private matter?”

Violet’s eyebrows furrow but she says nothing as she dismisses her daughters; each one complaining as they leave the room, closing the door behind them. At the click of the lock, Violet smiles warmly at her son – he was so different from Anthony and Colin, not the least interested in their games such as Pall Mall but would rather sit to the side with his sketchbook in hand. He had a boisterous streak; could play with the rest of them, but he had his moments where he fall into a tranquil state and produce artwork that could rival the greats.

Nerves tangling his stomach to pieces, Benedict begins to pace the room. His hands are hooked behind his back as he begins to pace backwards and forwards, trying to form sentences from the jumble of words in his mind. He knew, deep down, that whatever he should want to do with his life, his beloved mother would support him, but even Violet Bridgerton could not ignore the class lines so entrenched within society.

“Benedict, my dear, you’re beginning to make me dizzy. Stop pacing and tell me what’s wrong.”

Benedict pauses his pacing but does not sit down. Instead, he stands as still as a stone, hands gesturing wildly as he tries to form thoughts into sentences. Mouth opening and closing, he struggles of how to bring up the issue of love and marriage.

“You would never stand in the way of who we love, would you?” He finally asks, running a hand through his deep brown hair.

Violet frowns, “I would not considering they were within reason. Why? Have you fallen in love, Benedict?”

“I think… No. I know I have, but there’s a problem.”

“Are they a drunk?”

“No.”

“Do they gamble?”

“No.”

“Then whatever is the matter?”

“She’s a servant. A housemaid to be precise… in this house.”

Violet would be the first to admit that she is surprised by her son’s admission. Sighing, she pats the cushion next to her, urging her son to sit down. “Who?” she asks as Benedict falls into the seat beside her.

“(Y/N),” He admits, fiddling with the hem of his jacket.

She runs a hand through his hair, “Does she love you too?”

“I don’t know,” Benedict admits, “She ran off after I confessed.”

“Then I need to speak to her to find out once and for all,” Violet declares, smoothing out her skirts.

“Mother…” Benedict groans. Violet shakes her head, “Let me talk to her. I can reassure her in ways you cannot. I can tell her that I approve.”

“You approve?” He asks, shocked at the words leaving hid mother’s mouth. “I thought you would disapprove…”

“Because of her class? My dear boy, you have found your love match, that is all I wish for my children. Should (Y/N) feel the same then of course I approve. I would rather you be happy than miserable, my son.”

“Thank you, mother,” Benedict replies, kissing her cheek once again, “You’re truly the best there are.”

Violet blushes at her sons words, dismissing him with a wave of her fan. “Off with you, and ring for Jenkins before you go.”

Benedict bows before pulling the cord by the door. Leaving the room, Benedict cannot help the smile that crosses his face. He truly holds some hope that (Y/N) might feel the same as he does and if his mother should approve, then there should be no issue to their courting and their union.

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

(Y/N) wrings her hands together on entire walk to Lady Violet’s drawing room. Having been summoned by the Lady herself, this could be either of two things. One: she was about to find herself suddenly unemployed for reasons she did not yet know. Or two: Lady Violet knows about the conversation with Benedict.

Neither reason made (Y/N) feel particularly confident as she is shown into the drawing room. Her heart remains in her throat even as Lady Violet smiles at her warmly; gesturing for her to sit down across from her and take some tea.

Adding one lump of sugar to her tea, Lady Violet bluntly asks, “Do you love my son, (Y/N)?”

(Y/N) promptly drops her spoon into her tea causing it to splash on the table cover. “Oh!” She gasps, reaching for a napkin to clean up the mess as best she can, “I am so terribly sorry, Lady Bridgerton.”

Violet chuckles, “It’s no problem, (Y/N). Tea tends to wash out as I am sure you are well aware. I do not want to think of how many table cloths and dresses I have stained in my time… but I love the drink so many more stains are due to come.”

“My mother says that the world can be put to rights over a good cup of tea.”

“Your mother sounds very wise.”

“She is,” (Y/N) nods, smiling wistfully as she thinks of her mother with the fondness of a child. “I write to her nearly every day. She likes to hear about the city and what is happening. She feels as if the Bridgertons are her own family.”

Violet beams at that, “I am glad to hear it, (Y/N), but you have not answered my question.”

“I apologise, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Are you in love with Benedict?”

(Y/N) remains silent for a moment before beginning to nod her head. “I am. I know I am,” (Y/N) begins, “But…”

“But what?”

“I could bring nothing to the courtship and then nothing to the marriage. My family are not rich enough for me to have a dowry; I have no title or land; I barely know proper etiquette – I would offend everyone the moment I stepped through the door. On top of that, think of the social connections Benedict would lose – there would be families who would never speak to him again all because he had the rotten luck to fall in love with me.”

Violet’s blue eyes grow determined as she begins to list off: “You do not need a dowry; we have enough money as it is. There is no need for you to have a title or land, Benedict has his own homes. In terms of etiquette, you converse with me quite well, so I see no issue there. As for social connections, if people cannot see how happy you make my son then that is their issue, not yours and not Benedict’s.”

“What about the Viscount, Lady Bridgerton? Surely he has final say.”

A glimmer of something maternal shines in Violet’s eyes as she smiles. “Let me handle my eldest son. You have no reason to worry, (Y/N). Benedict loves you. I will not stand in the way of his happiness.”

“So you approve?” (Y/N) asks, forgetting herself for a brief moment before dipping her head in apology.

Violet dismisses her apology with a wave of her hand; after all, if things go to plan, she would be calling (Y/N) daughter in no time. “Do I approve of having to find another housemaid as talented as you? No, I do not. But do I approve of the lady that my son has given his heart to? Absolutely. To be entirely truthful, I would rather it be you than someone in society.”

“Thank you, Lady Bridgerton,” (Y/N) says gratefully, feeling the all too familiar prick of tears in the corner of her eyes.

“Now go,” Violet smiles, the familiar sting of tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, “Go find my son and tell him how you feel.”

Standing from the chair, (Y/N) curtsies with a smile before rushing from the room. Her mind in a daze as to what has truly happened just now.

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

(Y/N) finds Benedict in the library, sat awkwardly in one of the chairs with his sketchbook propped up in his lap. He’s focused entirely on the sketch at hand; his mouth set in a determined line as a finger delicately smudges part of his work.

For a single instant, (Y/N) watches Benedict in his element, finding that the butterflies in her stomach have turned from slumbering to a full blown riot at the mere sight of the man that had captured her heart. Still riding on the high from her conversation with Lady Bridgerton, (Y/N) steps further into the room. Benedict freezes in place at the sight of her stood by the stacks of books; her eyes are bright, and her skin flushed as she fiddles with the hem of her apron.

The painting flashes in his mind suddenly and his fingers twitch with the urge to turn the page of his sketchbook whilst simultaneously asking her to remain still so he can immortalise her on page. She’s perfect; she’s the perfect model and she doesn’t even realise it; Benedict thinks to himself.

“Spare me a moment?” She asks tentatively, as if worried of his reaction.

“All my moments are for you,” Benedict whispers honestly setting her heart racing in her chest. He stands from the chair, long legs coming out from under him as he leaves his sketchbook behind.

“All mine are for you too, if you’ll still have me…”

“What?”

“I love you too,” She confesses, voice small as she fiddles with her fingers, eyes cast on them – too scared to meet his gaze.

A finger under her chin has her meeting his deep blue eyes. Eyes that are alight with the happiness that surges through his veins; that highlight just how his heart sings at hearing those magical words leave her mouth.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” (Y/N) begins to ramble, “There is so much that is standing in the way for us, and I know you do not care or at least, I think you do not care but I cannot help but worry that if we were to happen, one day you would wake up and regret every moment of it. I am not from the same class as you, Benedict, I do not want to ruin you.”

A smile breaks across his face despite the stark desperation of her words. She furrows her eyebrows, half in curiosity, half in concealed frustration. “What are you smiling at?” She demands.

His hands move to cradle her face; thumbs rubbing over her cheekbones as he chuckles, “You called me ‘Benedict’.”

Thinking over her words, she smiles despite herself. “I suppose I did.”

“As for your worries: I do not think there will be one day in my future that I will not wake up and be grateful. However, that will only happen if you are in it – if I am waking up to you every morning. Darling, I do not think you can ruin me. I think you will be the making of me.”

“Do you promise? Not to regret me?” She whispers, a note of vulnerability in her voice.

“I promise,” He vows, pressing a kiss first to her forehead, then to her nose and cheeks. Then as he hovers above her lips, he whispers, “With every moment you spare me, I could never regret falling in love with you.”

******

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[babytaes]

†hê Ðêmðñ (the beauty of sin)

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: You're a guardian angel who's never been tasked with protecting anyone. Since you've been here since Creation, sitting around in heaven hasn't brought you any rewards. You were looking forward to the day when you'd be assigned a human to look after. When that day finally arrives, things take an unexpected turn when you are assigned to Heeseung, a demon from the underworld.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: heeseung x female reader

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: angst, suggestive/smut

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 4k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: profanity, smut scenes, bad boy heeseung (lol), 

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖘: click me before reading!

➳ part of the drunk & dazed series

☆ ҉ ◢▅◣

Sin is a spiritual virus that invades the whole being. It makes you morally and spiritually weak. It’s a deadly disease that infects every part of you: your body, your mind, your emotions, and your motives—absolutely everything. Nobody has the strength on their own to overcome its power.

Nobody should ever commit sin, never giving in to their worldly and sinful impulses. It's unjust and wrong. However, what is it about sin that makes it so fascinating and enjoyable?

It gave you joy to see it in his smile or the way his hands caressed your body. What a lovely thing sin is!

Even though some sins are innocent and enjoyable, sometimes regulations are supposed to be broken. Everyone, after all, is a sinner.

“WHAT!?,?” You began to sweat as you worriedly communicated your concerns to your overseer, “You must be mistaken, High Lord.”

“I understand the protocol; angels are supposed to serve as "guardian angels" to beautiful or broken souls on Earth. You know we're expected to look after them and keep an eye on them to make sure they stay on track. With all due respect, ma'am, I don't believe I'm qualified for this position; at the very least, someone of level 10 would be ideal.”

Her cream-colored wings swept her off her feet as she chuckled and waved for you to follow her. You sighed as you flutter up and away with her, trailing behind her, feeling a twitch in yours.

As you eventually caught up to her, dodging angels left and right, you apologized to random angels in your path, uncomfortably smiled at the people you bumped into with your wings.

You retracted your wings closer to you and walked uneasily beside your overseer as you carefully stepped down on the golden road.

Before you could say anything, she quietly took your hand in hers and gently kissed it, assuring you that everything would be alright. As you approached the center of the commotion, you bit your lower lip and remained silent.

Looking around at the community, it warmed your heart to see so many people, young and old, out here. Some you've known since the beginning of time, while others were born only last week. Everyone had gathered to witness the masterpiece that would emerge in an instant.

“You know Y/N I have complete faith in you that this first expedition will be a breeze,” you smiled, looking up at her with excitement and a tinge of fear in your eyes. “We wouldn't have suggested you for the job unless we knew who you really are, and you've earned it.” Don't worry, you were expecting this; now have a look.”

With her finger pointing to the stage forward, you were treated to yet another spectacular show. They're known as the "Grand Turning" in Heaven. This is where a new or seasoned angel has completed his or her training with a human or demon and earned their proper place in the community.

It could be a badge, a ribbon, or something more unique, such as the opportunity to talk with the all-powerful, our God.

Despite the fact that you were assigned to him, you were determined to get those jobs because they were the only way for you to ever get that honor. You weren't going to allow Mr. Unperfect take away that once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Nobody could and will ever be able to make you fail this assignment; you were meticulously prepped. You were taught the correct and only way to do things, and now was your opportunity to shine. You were not going to be a Lucifer, cast from Heaven

“I'll do it,” you said to your supervisor, a smile on your face and confidence in your eyes. She turned to face you and hugged you passionately, rubbing your wings with a motherly devotion.

“I knew you could do it; now it's time to get you ready.”

---

When people have a near-death experience, they always remark that life flashes before their eyes. Unfortunately for angels, it's the contrary; when we're approached with a high-alert danger or warning, it's more of a gentle whisper in our ears. Normally more attentive while traveling to Earth.

The best place to be humans say.. What is with these fickle minded words?

You take a deep breath and turn to face your overseer, who is polishing her wings to ensure that they are kept in order. When having wings, a routine is taught from the beginning to keep them in a good up do. Nobody wants to look simple when you can look stunning.

She took your hand in hers and walked toward the end of the route, issuing some documents to the Pearl City Gate guards. You noticed the circular orb while glancing around.

"How can some humans believe in the world being flat, we literally have an air-like view. To me, it's definitely round.” She chuckled as she pinched your cheeks and turned your puzzled face to her.

“When you get down to earth, you'll see a lot of that, people with a lot of opinions. But what did you learn in your training?”

Standing up and smoothing your wings, you calmly shouted out the words as if they were written on the back of your palm.

“Although humans are the destroyers of their own precious planet, everyone's opinion matters, regardless of race, gender, or identity.”

“Well, not all,” you began scratching your head, “I've seen some harsh individuals in our study books, God should strike them down-“

“Um no ma'am, let us put it aside for the time being and focus on what needs to be done.” She started going over a list of laws and regulations for your descent to Earth. As you gave her a thumbs up, you were attentively listening and mentally bookmarking everything in their designated area.

I believe I have a good understanding of everything, and I think I am prepared.” She offered you a short hug before letting you go, showing her affection for you. You were going to miss her, despite the fact that it was a mutually-surface relationship.

“Last but not least, this ordeal will be different in that people will be able to see you. But if you have to use your wings, the lad is the only one who can see you. When you arrive, he will be waiting for you. My child, best of luck and may God bless you.”

You let go of her and moved toward the road's edge, gripping your bag as you turned to face her and waved farewell as you stepped over the brink.

“Wait a minute, what if-“

When you felt a push from behind, you tumbled off the ledge and spun around in the sky, where you saw a smiling face as you glanced up. They didn't tell you that you'd have to be pushed. As you plunged to Earth, you closed your eyes, terrified. Oh, how nice.

Screaming, you descended into the atmosphere, your narrowed eyes seeing glimpses of land here and there. Not letting up you let your wings cover your whole body as you plopped down onto soft green grass.

You peered out from your wings, gasping for air, and glanced up.

“Oh, Heavens”

His physique was slender, active, and well-groomed, with a trace of bad boy behavior in his scent. The first thing that struck your eye were the rips in his jeans. How could a man-made mistake seem to be so appealing? As you raised your eyes, you noticed tattoos splattered across his arms and up to his neck. His black velvet-like wings fluttering in the breeze, he raised his palm to his hair and stroked through the old curls, deconstructing the pattern they had once formed.

“Did you just pull a Lucifer or was this all planned?” he coughed as he put out his hand to you, taking a good look at you.

Stuttering in your words you quickly got up and patted yourself off and finally looked him in the eyes, noticing his dark eyes.

“Well, that wasn't supposed to happen, I hoped to fly down here and appear more Angel-like, but I think my overseer had other ideas.”

He said, "Ah," with a bored expression on his face.

“My name is Heeseung, and if you don't mind, I assume you don't.” I guess my name is well-known in Heaven. You're probably the fifth Angel who has appeared in the last year to “assist me.” What a load of bullshit; you can't hide what's already there, you know.”

He made a pouty look as he smirked closer to you before covering his hand with his mouth and saying, “oh forgive me, I suppose I have a potty mouth.”

Panicking at this new light, you smiled and coughed loudly and suddenly, “Before you say anything else, I'd want to inform you that I'm not like those angels we don't talk about. I have a holy standard that I adhere to.

He rushed to your face, rolling his eyes at your innocence, and murmured to you, "well see about that little Ms. Purity."

As you moved back and shook your head, spurring out prayers, you tugged the strings of your bag close to you, seeming irritated. Looking up, you noticed him hovering in mid-air with his arms crossed, waiting for you.

“Whether you're coming or not, I'm in the mood for a cup of coffee. Allow me to go fetch you one so that this whole ordeal between us may be over soon and we can both return to our respective worlds.”

You instantly snap open your wings and shot up into the sky, scoffing at his rudeness, and dash by him, racing to the left.

“It's this way, dummy,” he cackled as he immediately shot out. Embarrassed and annoyed, you flipped over to his side and flew alongside him, praying to the Lord for peace as your rage subsided.

“Lord, so help me”

---

 “So, what's on the agenda, Ms. Purity? There are a lot of things I'd want to do with you. You know, if you just ditch this whole act, we might be able to have some fun. He winked at you as he sipped his drink while peering across the table.

You shook your head and chuckled, gagging at his remark, "You must get all the girls, you appear really, what's the word, competent" I'm astonished since I assumed everyone down under was inept.”

He smirked and crossed his legs as he lay startled in his chair, cocking his head to the side. It's not that you were trying to be mean; it's just what you were taught. There are no hard feelings.

“Well, as much as I'd like to keep this delightful little date going, I have a commitment to fulfill. You know, duty calls.” You quickly got up and hurried after him, confused as to where he was going, as he shot up in the air and chuckled, waving farewell to you.

“Wait, Heeseung, you can't just go away like that. We need to figure out how I'm going to find you. You're being impolite by getting up and leaving.” You made yourself look insane since you didn't realize no one could see him. You wouldn't want to be labeled as one of these Earthlings.

You beckoned him down, mentally terrified, “Please can you just come down for a damn second.” Your jaw dropped as you hurriedly covered your mouth. Heeseung's jaw dropped when he appeared in front of you, stunned.

“Gasp, I'm hearing a term I'm sure they don't say in Heaven. Hmm, I suppose the Earth changes people.” He went closer to your ear, his warm arm bouncing on your skin as he giggled, his lips inches away from yours.

“I've already entered my phone number into your phone; you do understand what a phone is, right?” Doesn't matter,  I have to get somewhere, and you can locate me later. Okay, I'll see you later.” He swept up in the air and rushed over to the bridge as he vanished into the horizon, rushing out in a haste once more.

You sat back in the coffee chair, wiped your brow, and focused mentally and spiritually, pleading with the Lord for help and forgiveness. You had a feeling this mission was going to be a disaster.

Whining, you threw your hands in the air and sat face down on the table, groaning as you realized this trek. It's no surprise that these honors are well-deserved; it takes a lot of effort.

You cautiously lifted your head and faced the barista after hearing a soft tap on your table. She smiled at you as she set down a piece of paper. You scowled as you inspected the weird set of paper.

“What a jerk, he didn't just leave me to pay for both drinks.” With a shake of your head, you reached inside your bag and drew out a wallet. Your overseer informed you that many people like flaunting and spending their money, so she provided some for you just in case.

As you cleaned up, you began to mentally map out your route through town, mentally picturing the locations and navigating your way home. As you walked over to the cashier, you handed her some money and thanked her before heading out the door.

At the very least, you landed in a fantastic location. It was in the heart of South Korea, and the city was called Seoul, a wonderful metropolis to be sure. You were taught to master specific languages for specific tasks, so communicating wasn't a problem. Despite the fact that you were new in a strange place, you were determined to make the most of it. The first step was to return home and examine the situation.

How to manage Lee Heeseung. 

Arriving at your small abode was an adventure in itself; it didn't take long for you to connect your GPS and get going. It was actually fairly pleasant and provided a change of scenery to enjoy. It's not quite Heaven, but it's still lovely. When you finally arrive at your destination, you look up to see a little, charming apartment in front of you.

They really went all out for you, and it's very much in your style. You'd felt right at home as soon as you stepped inside, as it was more modern and sophisticated.

To be honest, you had no idea what you were doing, but it felt good to have your own little place to do anything you wanted. You could get used to this, no wonder why humans never leave their house. Who would want to leave when you have everything here. Food, entertainment, and a BALCONY!!

As you finished exploring the apartment and basked in its magnificence, you laughed to yourself as you made your way to the couch, sinking into its coziness as sleep took over your mind and body.

*Crunch, thud, bang*

As you lurched forward, you flew up your wings in defense mode, trying to understand what you'd heard.

“Who's there? I have a weapon, and I'm not afraid to use it.”

When you hear a familiar giggle, you look up and see the attractive intruder. Walking over to you and snatching the pillow from your grasp he took your hand and pulled you over to the island where he had prepared some food.

As you took it all in, you smelt familiar scents and smiled, completely forgetting about it until you were reminded again.

“Wait, what are you doing in my apartment, and how did you get in?”

He began to remove some pots and pans from the stove while he placed some food on a platter, saying, "I have my methods."

“I'm not sure what you eat up there in Heaven, but I'm guessing it's all healthy and nutritious food.” You laughed and shook your hand in disbelief while shaking your head.

“I don’t think out of all places we would be eating so strictly. It's basically whatever you can get your hands on.. It's guaranteed to be better food than what you'll find in Hell.”

Pulling the dish away from him, you began to pick at the fries, popping one into your mouth and savoring the flavor, “not bad.”

He bowed in front of you, wiped the sweets from his brow, and returned to sit next to you, grabbing a dish and feeding himself some. As the night progressed, you told him the rundown for the next three months.

“So, despite the fact that you're definitely one of the worst jerks I've ever encountered. For this to function, we'll need to create certain ground rules.” Aiming a finger between you and him. “I'm not sure whether you've ever had to do anything for anyone else in your life, but it's all about serving people around here, and that's why I accepted this assignment. Even if you don't want to help yourself, I want to help you.”

As Heeseung shuffled around in his chair, avoiding eye contact with you, the atmosphere became tense.

“Harsh, but keep going.”

Smiling you continued as you tried to wrap your head around this complex creature.

“I understand that we are supposed to protect and guide you to do good, but it appears that we have progressed far beyond that, and we need to start at the source of your problem, which is most likely your heart or mind. What's going on in both?

As his words danced across your lips, he smirked and drew you closer to him.

“Now there's a secret.” 

Smirking as your face felt warm, you cocked your head to the side and touched his shoulder before getting up and setting your dish in the sink, cleaning up as piercing eyes stabbed your back.

“I understand what you're thinking, and I've got it all under control.”

He approached you and said, "If you say so," as he put his head against your ear.

2 months later 

Everything was certainly out of hand, and he was to blame. Your strategy not only failed, but it was only a matter of time until your overseer found out. And you didn’t want to end up like the last guy tossed from Heaven.

It wasn't all that bad, but who were you kidding, it was a disaster. It wasn't a major shift; rather, it was a series of modest changes. Things like accidentally cursing or hanging out with him at ungodly hours. You convinced yourself that everything was OK.

He drew you into your room and sat you down while hovering over you, gently caressing your body and kissing you.

You smiled and drew him closer to you, wrapping your legs around his waist and bringing him down on you, closing the distance between you.

Heeseung has been on a mission to damage your "innocent demeanor" for the past two weeks. He intended to show you that it was all a charade and that no one is actually perfect. Despite not knowing what he was going to do, you were up for the challenge. That core part of you didn't take long to succumb to his immoral impulses.

What was the problem as long as you were both happy?

“Heeseung,” you say as he draws you closer to him and unclasps your bra with his free hand. As you slowly rise to assist him, you toss the material to the ground and reach for his sweatpants.

“Someone a little needy, but we are not doing that today. Today is all about pampering my lovely angel. Is it all right?”

Nodding your head, you keep an eye on him as he goes between your legs, halting at the bottom as he eyes your breast and grasps softly as your body adjusts.

“Hurry up,” you grumble as you stare at his sinister grin. As you moan, he places gentle lips along your folds, leaning down to your core. As you twitch under his touch, his finger makes a fast dive between your folds, inciting dampness.

As you whine from the pressure, your eyes flutter shut as he switches his finger out with his tongue, softly licking up your surface.

“mm, close,” you exclaim, your lips wide open as he notices your clit, tongue flicking lustfully against it. As he presses harder on your sensitive region, he laughs as you break apart under his power.

“Oh God, right there.” 

“Please don't involve Him in this.” He hits a place as your high comes crashing down on you, chuckling at your reaction. Heeseung is holding you down and watching you quiver wildly as you release juice, which causes him to swallow it before wiping his mouth. As you fall onto his body, overwhelmed and still sensitive to the sensation, he pulls you up.

He lays your exhausted body next to his and wipes any excess arousal from his mouth before kissing your lips.

You both lay in a comfortable stillness for the remainder of the night, your breathing slowly returning to normal as you sign into his arms.

“Perhaps you're right; we're all just horny, messed-up creatures; I mean, even though what we're doing is completely wrong, it was fun to break the rules. My entire life has been focused on doing the right thing and being this upstanding angel. It's fun to deviate from the norm.” As Heeseung witnessed you erupt in rage, you became agitated.

“You’re cute when you’re mad, also I told you.” You both chuckled as you pushed him to the side before coming to a halt in the middle of your conversation, looking concerned at him.

“However, I leave tomorrow and I don't think I'll be ready to see you off, and this was not in my plan.”

“Shhh, I figured it out; just stick to my plan and we'll both come out on top.”

You sat closer to him, nodding your head and clasping your hand in his as you allowed sleep to take over your body.

As you may know, angels and humans have quite distinct punishments; some humans are never punished for their wrongdoings, whereas angels' actions are usually discovered one way or another.

And you were terrified that they would find out. The person who fell from the edge was not the same person who was returning back and everyone was going to know it. Just not right now, you had to maintain your composure as you approached your overseer.

As you were greeted with the overseer and some guards, you held Heeseung by his chains and whispered something into his ear.

“I see you were having a good time?” You shook your head and looked down, worried. You looked up at her with sad eyes.

“Yes, High Lord, I am aware of my error and what needs to be done in order to be purified once more. I accept complete responsibility for this assignment, but I crack him first, and we have all the secrets we need.”

As he observed you return to the opposite side with the overseer, Heeseung's gaze shifted up in fright. Fearing for his life, he flailed his wings in an attempt to flee.

“What the hell, Y/N, I thought we were on the same team.” How could you betray me in such a way?” You walked over to his trembling body and pushed him down so you were above him, laughing loudly. You patted his shoulder as you cackled.

“And they said angels could be trustworthy. I know what I'm worth, and it has nothing to do with you. Heseeung, please accept my apologies. Get him out of here.” The guards grabbed his chains and dragged him to a chamber across the room from you.

As she began to compliment you on your efforts, the supervisor wrapped her arm around your shoulder.

“I'm proud of you, Y/N, even though you used some terrible techniques. I knew you'd be able to pull it off.”

You grinned joyously and thanked her for her faith in you as you looked up at her face. You cast another peek at Heeseung as she stepped forward, and he winked at you. Smirking before he disappeared into the room you chuckled at his behavior.

Everything was going swimmingly, and no one had a clue. I suppose taking over Heaven would be a simple task; if you can blow up the inside, everything will fall apart on its own.

"How could you hide this from all of us?" "Oh God, you underestimated me."

The Beauty of Sin.

☆ ҉ ◢▅◣

➳ Navigate to the Maze

[graykageyama]

dream come true.

synopsis: when you fall in love, you fall in love deep. they become your world, while you became theirs. they’re your dream, and you are theirs. but all it takes is a change of heart to change the courses of your dreams, and maybe only one dream can come true. 

pairing: Suna x reader

genre: angst

word count: 3k +

Part 2: but you were my dream, too

“And then Atsumu never saw it coming. So he was running from his fangirls right? He ran like he was running away from an apocalypse. As stupid as he is, he never saw it coming. He ran straight to the gym and when he opened the door, he triggered the trap. Dude, got the whole floor wet.” Suna laughed hard as he tells you about his day - well trying as he can barely get the words out.

You glance towards his direction and you just cannot believe that this man is your boyfriend - he looks so ethereal under the glow of the street lamps lighting your way home before the dusk completely envelops both of you. With his gym bag slung over his shoulder and his other hand warming yours, his head tilted back as he tried to catch his breath, this was another rare moment where Suna -your Suna Rintarou- is completely carefree, defenseless and well, just him. His piercing, slanted eyes which usually intimidates most people, are now closed. Even with his awkward hair style still damp from practice, and hunched-over posture, you still think of him as your Mr. Perfect.

You’ve been  together since the start of your third year in high school, and honestly, this is so far your best year. Being friends with him and the twins since first year of highschool, you can’t help but to just fall for him. Despite his usually cold persona, he is always so sweet to you. He makes sure to walk you home everyday, since he always asks you to watch him at practice. It’s amazing really, how he can transform to this scary, intimidating middle blocker into an adorable fox always seeking for your affections. He loves it when you hand his towel, or maybe dry his hair with your gentle touches. You know he secretly loves how you cheer for him even in practice games. You also know to yourself that you would want to do these things for him even in the far future. Even if it would mean you would have to sacrifice your dreams to become Suna’s perfect wife, you know that you’re going to stay with him for the rest of your life. To become Suna’s number one fangirl is now your dream.

“Y/N?” Suna calls out, interrupting your thoughts. “Watch this. Ain’t he stupid?”He laughs again as he shows you the video clip of Atsumu being drenched with water, and his face flat on the floor. “Yeah, he is. He falls for it every time. Smart athlete on the court, but in reality, he’s pretty stupid. Kita-san and the other alumni must have had a hard time in handling you three. ”  You laugh along at his story. “He misses Kita-san though, the dude cries when he remembers how Kita-san took care of him when he got sick.”

“Well, Tsumu can be a baby sometimes, that’s why we love him” He faintly slows down his pace as he asks, “Come to think of it Y/N, I’ve never seen you cry. I mean, I wouldn’t want to make you cry or anything, but even when we were still friends, you never cried.”

Pinching his side, you giggle “I cry too, dumbass. I’m human too.I don’t know though, I just don’t cry easily I guess.” You shrug. “What about you? I rarely see you in tears, too.” You tease as you poke your tongue out. He smirks as he looks over at you,”I don’t easily get affected by my emotions and honestly I don’t need too, sweetcheeks. There’s no reason too. I always win.” He lets out another hearty laugh, as you think. That’s true. No one can really beat and outwit Suna. Maybe only the french fry from Karasuno, but I guess no one can easily faze him.  

Suna lets go of your hand as you both stopped in front of your house. He clasps your hands together with his one hand as he places the other on the top of your head, “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Rest well, Miss I-don’t-easily-cry.” Placing a tender kiss on your forehead, you shut your eyes. This had been your routine with your boyfriend ever since you got together, but you would never wish for anything else to replace these moments.

---

As you both graduated from Inarizaki, you decide to follow your dream - your Suna - and support him as he aspires to be a professional Volleyball player. You go to a University near where he is training so that it would be more convenient for him to fetch you. Life goes by quickly. Your boyfriend trains hard day and night and hones his skills and game sense. You study a business course to help you land a good job, a job that can still be pretty flexible to work with according to Suna’s. You rarely see your boyfriend nowadays, but no doubts cross your mind as you are assured that you were Suna’s one and only, his love of his life. Whenever you think otherwise, you try to remember these evidence of his love and assurance.

----

You closed the door as you said your goodbyes to your mom. It pains you to see her get cheated on by your dad, but you couldn’t do anything about it. You sat on the couch and hugged your knees together. Forcing your eyes shut to keep you from crying and sharing her pain, but alas - your tears betrayed you as it streamed down your face.

How can the guy you loved for so many years, easily replace you?

Suna saw your broken state as he gave you a warm hug. He didn’t say anything, but you’re comforted by his silence and the small circles he rubbed on your back. You looked up at his eyes and cried, “It’s so scary, Rin. How one day you’re hopelessly in love with your best friend for so many years, but then they suddenly act like you are just trash - disposable, replaceable, and no longer wanted. They were so perfect in my eyes, you know? But why did he cheat on her? He just gave up in the middle of solving their problem. Why? I’m scared, Rin. Will that happen to us?”

Suna tilted your head to maintain the eye contact you had initiated. With his soft voice, he said “No matter what happens, I will never hurt you, leave you, and will never make you cry intentionally.” He wiped away your tears, then placed his hand on top of your head. Kissing your temple softly, he assured you. “I will never go away, no matter how rough it may become. Every single day for the rest of my life, I will be by your side.”

---

You both try to make your relationship work, spending all of your free time together. He is still the Suna you loved. Always affectionate to you alone, and always caring about you.

Things are going great to the both of you. You are now in your last months in university, and Suna gets scouted to play for the EJP Raijins, a V. League Division 1 team. You are so proud of your boyfriend. He is finally reaching his dreams, and your dream of seeing him so successful is also coming true. You understand how he puts more effort in his training, with him usually coming home to dim lights. But you try your hardest as his girlfriend to warm up the dinner you have prepared for him earlier. With only the kitchen lights lit, you always wait for your boyfriend to come home, to greet him with a kiss even if it is past 11pm. This is just the life of a professional athlete, and you, as his partner, should adopt this life too.

“Y/N baby, no need to wait for me. I’m not coming home tonight. Coach offered to let me sleep at his place since we’re just really fatigued from the hard training we had today.”

This slowly becomes a habit, and you are getting frustrated over the lack of attention you’ve been receiving. You understand this was his job, and he needs to work hard with the season coming up soon. But does he have to be away for almost every day of the week? You rarely get to see him now, with most encounters only at night. He’d usually go home at 1 am, and when you’re lucky, you get to feel your lover’s intimate touches again. But before dawn cracks up, he's out on his training again, and who knows when he’s coming home.

“Hey, Rinnie. I miss you so much babe, and I know you’ve been training really hard, but I’d like to spend some time with you.” You approached your boyfriend as you saw him packing his things up for training. “Maybe I could go by your gym and visit you! I could make some packed lunches for you and your teammates too, and maybe I can finally meet them.”

“I’ll try Y/N, I can’t say much now with our new training schedule.” He utters out rather coldly, while shoving his equipment down his gym bag.

“Ohhh okay. But are you able to come home early on Wednesday? Just for one night, pretty please? You’re rarely home these days and I--”

“Well, I just can’t laze around right? I’d have to work hard in order to feed the both of us. Can you stop being clingy, and act like a more understanding girlfriend. It’s getting pathetic how you’re acting like I’m not doing this for the both of us.” He zipped up his bag and slings it over his shoulder. He went up to your frozen state, and gave a light kiss to your temple. “Look, I don’t really want to fight. I’m sorry. But please be an understanding girlfriend for me, and stop being extra clingy.” He walked up to the door, and left - leaving you to blame yourself for being another burden to your partner. Although he said some hurtful things, he says he’s sorry right?

---

You love routines, and it makes you feel your life has a structure it has to follow. But this new routine was not one you would wish to have, to be honest, you did not know when did your old routines fall out. Suna’s rarely home, if he used to go home once a week, now, he only goes home to pick some of his clothes, makes love to you if you ask him to, and leaves the next day. His texts are getting drier each day, even taking hours to reply to yours. You’re scared. Even his words don’t seem to assure you now, he feels so far away. He’s slipping through your fingers, and you know you need to do something to keep your relationship together.

“Rin love, can you go home tonight? I just really miss you terribly, and honestly, I’ve been craving your touch for so long. Come home tonight, love.” (Sent, 2:51 PM)

“Ok.” (Received, 4:30 PM)

You’re ecstatic. You’re finally going to spend time with your boyfriend after such a long time. You prepare his favorite dinner, and you choose to wear his favorite nightgown for you. As you hear his steps outside the apartment, you greet him with your sweetest smile.

“Hi, Rinnie. I’m glad you’re home” You give him a tight hug, as you offer to take his gym bag.

“Let’s get this over with, Y/N. Go now to the room, I’ll just wash up.” He mutters as he steps out of his shoes. You stand frozen, as you suppress the tears forming in your eyes. “I made dinner, Rinnie. Your favorite, actually. Come eat with me? ” You try to invite him again, holding his hands as you try to lead him to the kitchen.

“Ï’m a busy man, Y/N. What more can you ask from me? You said you wanted my touches and love, right? That’s why I’m here. I need to go back to the dorms immediately, and honestly I just want to have it over with.”

“Rin,” you called out. “Can you at least spare me some time and attention that  you have been refusing to give me over these past months? All I’m asking is to spend time with you. I’m even trying my best to make time for you. Why are you like this?”

The eyes. The eyes you never had thought would frighten you as much as it did to the other players in the court, pins you down. Suna glares as he seethes through his teeth, “Make time for me? You don’t even have a job yet after graduating a few months ago. You stay here, enjoying your life as I worked hard to keep this up. You are demanding too much from me, Y/N. And now you are asking me for my share in this relationship? Well aren’t you one selfish woman.”

You cower away from his gaze, but you still try to express your frustrations. “I never asked for an expensive life. I just wished to be with you, Rin! To support you with your dreams.” You lift your head to meet his gaze.  “I’ll always try to take care of you, Rin. You are my dream. Seeing you pursue yours, makes me feel as if I’m accomplishing my dream too. But all I’m asking is for you to still treat me as your favorite girl, your partner, and I can give back ten times more than what you can give me, just please give me the small attention and love I have been craving for.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint you Y/N, but you’re the least of my priorities now. And aren’t you pathetic? Sacrificing your dream to support mine? You’re just lazy to pursue yours, and you’re just leeching off of me. I’m so disappointed in you, Y/N. You’re getting more pathetic each day.”

“I wanted to go and look for a job, but how could I when I don't know how you are lately? How is our relationship lately? It’s like it’s hanging by the thread now, Rinnie.”

“Well, just cut the damn thread, then!” He forcefully slams the counter as his eyes snap backs to yours. “Ï can’t deal with this right now. If you keep on acting up Y/N, just stop. Have some pity over yourself.” Suna picks up his things, and leaves. Shutting the door as hard as he could, the loud bang conceals the sound of your shattered heart.

---

Weeks go by slowly as you patiently wait for your boyfriend’s return. He wouldn’t leave me right? He promised .He promised.. Scrolling up to your text messages, you reviewed the texts you’ve sent him.

“Hey Rinnie, I’m sorry for the things I’ve said. I hope you’re taking care of yourself, babe.” (Sent. April 13, 8:53 AM.)

“Hey baby! Please don't skip your meals, and drink lots of water too! Drink your water, bitch!” (Sent. April 14, 10:14 AM.) You slightly smiled as you reminisced how both of you loved to tell that to each other after hearing it from a famous personality, finding it amusing and adding it to your routine.  

“Call me whenever your free, okay? Don’t forget to rest in between, Rinnie. I miss you.” (Sent. April 14, 8:42 PM.)

The text messages go on for two weeks, still with no replies from your Rinnie. As you are cleaning the apartment, you hear the awaited notification tone ring. You immediately grabbed your phone and checked out the notification. But it was not from Rin, it was from your friend from university calling you up.

“Hey, Y/N-san. Congratulations to Suna and his team for winning the pre-seasonal tournament. It’s all over the news right now.” Akaashi exclaimed over the phone. Your heart leaps upon hearing your boyfriend’s name. Rushing over to see the news for yourself, your heart flutters as you see your perfect man - in his wet jersey while holding the medal wrapped around his neck as the reporter angled the microphone in front of him. Your perfect man responds casually and smug, as usual.

I’m so proud of you baby. Always had, and always will. I knew you could do it, Rin.

But your thoughts are interrupted as the reporter asks, “Is there any special someone you would want to celebrate this victory with, Mr. Suna?”

Suna looks over at the camera and he smiles bright. Brighter than the ones you’ve seen when you were with him during these past months. “Yeah, actually I do.” He replies as he smiles back at the reporter. “She’s just the best and I’ve been training really hard for her, you know? Gotta make my baby proud.”

The spark of hope ignites within your heart upon hearing those words. Even when doubts clouded your mind, you still never fail to have faith in him. You always believe that everything will be perfectly fine, and your Rin will always stay by your side. He said he’ll never go away, and you know that you’re here to stay.  “I will never go away, no matter how rough it may become. Every single day for the rest of my life, I will be by your side.”

But what you see next finally wakes you up from your own self-deception. Suna Rintarou. Your Rin. Has his arms around another girl as he smiles back again to the reporter. “She’s the girl I’m talking about.” As if it wasn’t enough, Suna placed his hand on top of her head and placed a tender kiss on her temple.

I’m supposed to be that girl, that should have been me.  I should be the one greeting you back from your training. I should be the one with you as you receive your recognition. That should be me. That used to be me.

Even though it hurts, you stare at the couple in front of you and see how Rin was just casually cool and okay, as though he wasn’t the cause of your heart breaking.

All this time. While you have been fixing your own shattered heart, someone else is mending his - no, there was nothing to fix as it has been replaced. It’s so unfair, how can you be so fine? All the fights we’ve gone through, I even deceived myself that I was being a burden to you. Convincing myself to no longer bother you as it may faze you and your performance, too. It takes so much for me to just go through the day, and live for you, for us. But I guess you’re my dream, right? You win again, Rin. You always did.

Dreams do come true, they said. But it seems only your dream came true. And it’s wonderful to see you reaching your dreams, love. Even if it meant that my dream won’t come true.

A/N: HNGHHH, I am sorry for Y/N becoming so heads over heels over him, which is why she’s hurting so much!! But reality’s a bitch, there really are people who be martyrs for love :<  Would love to hear you thoughts uwu reblogs, likes, comments, asks and messages are very much appreciated! There will be a part 2!! Will try to post within this week, after doing my requirements T.T .  

Message me or send an ask if you want to be tagged for the update! <3

~juju 

[oh-obrien]

Please write a one-shot about Anthony and reader! I don’t know why, but the stove scene cracked me up. Perhaps something in which the reader, who’s very kind and nurturing, finds herself in the kitchen with Anthony and actually knows how to warm up the milk (even tho she’s highborn), and Anthony being in awe and just falling in love ✨

BET THIS IS CUTE!! If it’s not what you wanted (or if you have any other ideas) feel free to slide into my inbox again!! I even got to make a Bridgerton banner to add to my masterlist, exciting exciting!

So here’s a little quick something. It’s not proof read so they’re may be a few typos but I just got an idea for a series!!

You quietly padded down the stairs of the Bridgerton estate, making your way towards the kitchen but not wanting to wake any of the family or the maids. Moving to London for the marriage season wasn’t something you had been all that excited about when your father had first informed you of the arrangement. Your father and Mr. Bridgerton had been quite close when they had been younger, and your mothers had also developed a rather close relationship.

You had spent many a summer with the Bridgerton children, opting to run amuck with the boys rather than learn to be the ‘prim and proper’ lady you were expected to be with the Bridgerton daughters. That had been an area where you parents seemed to disagree, but neither couple wanted to tell the others how to parent. However, upon Mr. Bridgerton’s passing your visits to see the other children started to grow rather scare and after your own mother’s passing they were nearly nonexistent. Your family was well off, with your father being one of the Queen’s most respected Generals, but had had never purchased an estate in London as he never had the time to think as far out as your first season.

With your father needing to lead his men in the ongoing war against the French Empire, he didn’t have time to help you through your first season in London. With the Queen’s help, your father had been able to quickly get in contact with Lady Bridgerton who agreed to host you for the durration of the season, and after if your father had not yet returned home. The woman quickly took you under her wing and along Daphne you were expected to be one of the diamond’s of the season.

Settling into the Bridgerton home had been quiet easy, as you always got along well with all of the children. Nights, however, often seemed to drag on and you never seemed to get a full night of restful sleep. You were used to living on a farm with your father, one of your family’s dogs asleep at the foot of your bed and another on a pillow next to the door, as if he was protecting you while you slept. Without the noise of the animals, or the dogs keeping you warm, something always seemed to feel off. Which led you to your current location.

You stood by the kettle in the kitchen, the glass container of milk held between your hands while you looked around the room for a second candle to help light the stove. As you set the milk down and and turned to look for another candle, hoping to have better luck with both hands free, you caught sight of a figure in the corner of the room. “Anthony!” You hissed after you recognized who had been lurking in the corner of the room, not sure how long he had been there. “What are you doing?”

With a sly smile Anthony pushed himself off the wall and made his way over to you, handing you an unlit lantern that you quickly used your candle to light. “You know how to make it work?” He asked, nodding towards the stove. You set the lantern down next to the stove before turning around, quirking a confused eyebrow at the man standing in front of you.

“And you don’t?” You offered him a smirk of your own while you croched down in front of the stove, opening the door on the front to show plenty of fresh coal to do the job you needed it to. “Not all of us have servants that wait on you foot and hand all day, Anthony.” You stood up and brushed off the skirt of your night dress after you had lit the stove.

“Life seems better that way sometimes,” he spoke quietly while you began to move about the kitchen. You pulled a pot to warm the milk off of the wall where it had been hung before also grabbing two mugs, tilting one towards Anthony, asking him if he wanted any. “Yes, I’d love a cup.”

You nodded to yourself while you set the pot on the stove, adding enough milk to it for two people before you turned around to face the eldest Bridgerton again. “Life is much simpler out in the country, but your family has a country estate so you should know that.” The flames from the lanterns lit up his face in the most flattering way possible, highliting all of his beautiful features.

“We still have a full staff when we live out in the country, when you and your father are home you are the only ones that tend to your animals,” he pointed out while you turned back to the milk, dipping your finger into the liquid to see if it was getting warm before picking up the pot of honey you had pulled out earlier. “I’d love to live life that way, away from,” he motioned around himself, “all of this.”

You hummed quietly, acknowledging his statement, as you pulled the spoon out of the honey pot, letting some drip into the quickly warming milk on the stove. “You can live like that if you wanted to, of course.” You picked up a spoon and began stirring the honey into the Milk, hoping it would all dissolve like it did at home. “But that means you making your own life, Anthony.”

“I want to make my own life but I fell - I feel,” the man in front of you trailed off, running a frustrated hand over his face.

“Trapped?”

“Morally obligated to do everything my father should be here doing,” he let out a long sigh, finally finding the words he wanted to. “I don’t want to have to be part of the season to find someone I want to marry, I want to marry someone I love.” You could see a few frustrated tears gathering at the corners of Anthony’s eyes, but he quickly blinked them away and you found it best not to acknowledge them.

“Nor do I, Anthony,” you dipped your finger into the warming milk, finding it to be warm enough before pulling the pot off the stove. You poured the liquid into the two cups before setting the pot back on the stove. “I just don’t know what other choice we have right now.”

You handed one mug to Anthony and kept the other for yourself, eyeing him carefully while you brought the rim of the cup up to your lips. “What if we did have about her choice?” He set his own cup down and went to grab yours out of your hands, setting it down next to him. “I-,” Anthony took in a deep breath. “I think I’ve loved you my entire life-”

“Anthony,”

“No,” he cut you off. “I love how differently you live from the other proper women, you don’t care about the standards, the tiles, the hall, you don’t care about any of it!” He grabbed your hands in is. “The last few years I’ve been, I’ve been filling this void with other women, but the perfect one has been in front of me and I didn’t even realize it.”

You stood in front of the eldest Bridgerton, shock evident on your face while you listened to him rambling. “Anthony, you’re tired, you don’t know what you’re saying right now.” You tried to shove down the shimmer of hope that started the bubble in your stomach, pushing away your desire to marry the man in front of you right then and there.

“No, I know exactly what I’m saying! Tomorrow we’re doing this right,” he dropped your hands with a bright smile, “we Court through the remainder of the season and then I’ll propose!” He picked up his cup from the table and took a long sip from it. “And then, and then we’ll have the most amazing wedding that London has ever seen. We’ll move to the country and tend to our own land and it will the life I’ve long for.”

Trying to hide your smile you just nodded, a small, okay slipping past your lips.

“Okay?” Anthony asked, his own smile widening.

“Yes, okay. We’ll marry by the end of the season!” You couldn’t help the laugh that slipped past your lips when Anthony quickly crossed the room, wrapping his arms around your waist and sweeping you off your feet in a tight hug. “Now go back to bed Anthony, your sister is seeing the Duke again tomorrow, you need to be well rested to escort her.”

You saw his face drop slightly, “and of course you also need to be well rested to dance with me.”

[oonajaeadira]

Long Fall Into Oblivion (Ezra x reader)

(header by sirtadcooper - check out the whole beautiful set here.)

Rating: Mature. 

Pairing: Ezra (post-Prospect film) x f!reader

Warnings: Non-explicit sex. Some swears maybe (think there’s a f*ck in there somewhere, my GOODNESS). A lot of gooey, syrupy, soft fluffety fluff. Author attempts at writing Ezra dialogue. A lot of chewy prose.

A/N: I can’t believe I’m posting this, but here goes. I love Ezra. He is a man of questionable morality and an insufferable tongue and I really shouldn’t. But I really do. I just wanted to give him a try. I’ve softened him up here, putting a few years on him so maybe he’s fluffed up some since the events in the film. Also I just ignored the fade or assumed that aurelac mining was still happening because scarcity/demand. Doesn’t matter. Just wanted to go exploring.

Summary: You take a job as an aurelac prospecting trainee and Ezra shows you the ropes. You’re gonna fall in love with him. That’s it. That’s the whole thing.

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MASTERLIST

________________

Bakhroma is one of the smallest gas giants in the sector, but as you stand on the surface of the Green Moon, it dominates the entire horizon, pulling your focus, threatening to engulf everything around it. You almost feel sorry for the lush moon as you walk through its undergrowth, so gentle and full of beauty, destined many years after you’re gone to give its life to her.

A moon is an orbiting admirer, and what is an orbit but a long fall to oblivion?

There’s a painful, sour ache in your heart as you walk back to the camp in twilight, watching the back of Ezra’s helmet bob along in front of you. You’d spent two days digging that claim only to find the weakest aurelac nest you’ve seen yet, only three viable nodes. You’d dug through one of them by accident and completely melted another like an incompetent fool. Kevva’s ass, you were such a disappointment. Three months in the Green and you still can’t cut a blister out properly. Not even once.

Ezra’s shoulders are wide and tense, his one hand splayed out as he walks, running over the tops of the tall ferns, catching one every now and then only to rip the top away, twirl it between his gloved fingers and toss it impatiently aside.

The other two members of your team headed out on a sling this morning, another two will be arriving in a few days. And you wonder if Ez regrets just not cutting his losses and leaving with them, or at least sending you back in exchange for another kip.

You think about shifting through the comm channels, hoping that he’s chattering away in one of them, switched without your knowledge, but it’s a lost cause. You can hear him breathing on the channel between you. It’s not often Ezra has nothing to say.

________________

You thought your father was leaving you an inheritance. It’s not the reason you took care of him through his illness, but you’d dropped everything to be back home with him through his final months. In a way, it was a blessing, a reason to quit the Dasha factory and the terrible working conditions there, come back home and focus on your dad, relive good memories, just spend time. The reconnection lifted your heart, but his death sank it low again. When you learned he had nothing to leave you but a small house and some old vehicles, you sold what you could and traded in the rest.

Then you had nothing. No family, no job, little savings, questionable future. It almost broke your spirit. But the last few months with your father rekindled your love of him as he told you about his years in the Fringe, mining and prospecting. And your heart had said, “what the hell, let’s try that.” So you listened.

It took some time to track down the right inroads, but you were able to find some ads for prospecting teams, in particular those who were willing to take on members in training for a re-distributed cut. With all provisions included--other than suit and gear, which your father’s inheritance neatly covered--it seemed like just as good of a deal as any, and an adventure to boot.

But the reality was, every team you met with was full of hardened men, and while you were not a soft Central woman, you also weren’t overly versed in weaponry and didn’t know if you could defend yourself out in the Fringe against attack if things got crusty.

You were just about ready to admit defeat when you walked into yet another conference bunker and found your match. The first thing you noticed was that he was standing when you arrived, waiting for you politely rather than manspread at the table. Second were his eyes. Deep, brown, and sad. Maybe sad was the wrong word, certainly it seemed by the lines in his face, possibly by the missing arm, that he’d seen enough sadness, but toward you, it read more as concern. You wouldn’t know it until later when he confessed his feelings about this first meeting, but he was worried you wouldn’t choose him. Ezra had a hell of a time hiring partners. He may have been one of the longest-working aurelac diggers out there, but young kippers saw his greying beard and seasoned diggers saw his lacking arm and they all tended to turn around and walk out before he even said hello. So he’d tried to put himself out there as a trainer, show that he had something more to offer.

It didn’t hurt his feelings when you admitted to him later that those qualities were exactly why you chose him. He seemed the opposite of threatening. And his eyes were bright when he smiled at you. With his thrumming baritone and his Fringe twang and his mixed deck of mosaic words, he had a way of speaking that felt like a fluffy blanket curling around you, your brain vibrating with comfort at every new monologue. He was eccentric and perhaps a little jarringly rough in his humor at times, but there was something about him that you trusted immediately, even though you’d come to learn later you probably shouldn’t have if you were being overly cautious.

Not that your judgement ever came to detriment. Not that he ever proved you wrong that way. Not when it came to you. But the man was dangerous when he had to be in a way you hadn’t initially picked up on.

________________

You hadn’t been out in the Green two weeks before you looked up from the bottom of a dig hole to see Ezra standing over you with a thrower.

“You get down and you stay down, understand?”

“Ez? What--”

“I said stay down! Do not make me waste words on mere repetition!” The fuzzy blanket of his voice replaced suddenly by a snarling, snapping brush wolf, a quick change hitting you like a slap in the ear.

There’d been pops and whizzes as shots rang through and you did as your trainer said, face down, the view of your visor giving you nothing but dirt. Your helmet was a chorus of quick breathing from both of you and sweat rolled down your neck as you begged the eyes of Kevva to look down upon your partner. When the crossfire faded, you’d heard Ezra stalk away. Then there were a couple more shots. Then more footsteps returning.

“You are permitted to stand, trinket. All is well as it can be for us. But not so much for our dearly departed friends.” These words were as soothing as much as his previous ones had burned, and he simply went back to working at the dig at hand as if he’d just come back from taking a leak. It wasn’t until you left the site that evening that you tramped past two rotting raiders, gaudily outfitted with broken face shields, left to let the Green take them.

Ezra whistled as he stepped over them, stopping only to harvest their filters and munition rods, which he tossed your way to stow in your pack, and then continued lazily down the path toward camp. Just another day on the job. 

He may be a little peculiar and not someone to trifle with, he may have just killed two people without remorse or further comment, but his lack of reassuring words told you that this was just part of the deal. You wear the suit, you use the air scrubber in the tent, you follow the landing pod instructions as written, and you defend yourself against those who wish to harm you. Survival by any and all means is paramount, mundane, and something he has no qualms with on any level.

There was something deep down inside of you that instinctually pulled you to follow him, not just down the literal path before you, but whatever path Ezra chose to wander.

________________

Before you’d left the station with him, he’d taken you to a thrower range to gauge your skill which was decent in theory, but dismal compared with what he could do. No matter, he still patiently taught you how to properly clean and charge a weapon and the best way to breathe and pull the trigger; “like you’re taking hold of a man’s...well... Just go easy and firm.” He suggested you should come and practice every day before lift off and then hope to Kevva that you didn’t have to rely too heavily on it.

“If I find myself in a coffin of my own suit, then feel free to defend yourself as a final means of preservation. Otherwise, when it comes down to shots fired, best to let me do the dirty work. Might as well keep the blood where the blood has been.”

You’d been a little nervous about sharing a freighter pod alone with him, but Ezra was...well, not so much a gentleman as just a comfortable soul. 

He always waited until you were hungry to eat, thinking it rude to eat alone in front of you. He never moved around the pod while you were sleeping, content to keep still with a book in his cot. And if you couldn’t sleep, he was always willing to read to you from whatever impossibly dense old world classic he was digging through for the umpteenth time, letting his voice come up from the deeps and pull you gently under. If you asked permission to turn on the radio, he’d ask you “why Isn’t it on yet, woman,” quietly tolerating your taste in harsh and gleeful babblecore pshcyopop. In the later days of the journey, he’d even come to dance with you from time to time, although both of you were dismal at it and ended up with you in a fit of giggles. It was a sure-fire way to cure a case of the pouts you carried through from the morning fitness sessions when he beat you at pushups. Again.

When it came to privacy in the tight space, he had a habit of turning away without having to be asked or stopping his stream of talk when you went to change clothes, just happily chattering away until you called the all clear. Although he was not squeamish about his own state of undress, should you happen to catch it by accident. While he was respectful of your privacy, he seemed to need none of his own, but neither did he flaunt anything. You might look up from studying the flight manual to notice he was changing into a fresh pair of compression pants, tugging them on haphazardly with one hand, more concerned with telling you the overwhelmingly disgusting manufacturing process of Bits Bars than his own ass hanging out where you might see it. At least he always changed facing away from you which was a kindness.

Until it wasn’t.

After you realized you’d fallen quietly in love with him--a sudden, soft moment on the Green--then you’d admit only privately to yourself that you wouldn’t mind if you accidentally saw a little more than the occasional shirtless attire he might wear around the tent.

But in the pod, the only part of him that had caught your curiosity was his stump, and you’d known Ezra intensely enough over the past couple of weeks where you knew he wouldn’t take offense. Especially if you asked him the right way.

“Will you tell me a story, Ezra?”

“I feel that it is my duty to do so whether you ask me to or not. Shall I choose, or is there something in particular you would like to hear?”

He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, propped up against his cot, going through his kit, cleaning his gear. You waited until he noticed your lack of answer and looked up to meet your eyes. When he saw that you had put your manual down and were focusing all your quiet attention on him, he stopped his busy work. 

When Ezra gives you his attention, it is absolute. When he knows you seriously need something from him, that becomes his immediate main priority and all else can wait. It’s only gotten more intense since that day, but there is a trust that resides between you when you look into his eyes, gathering your words as he waits patiently every time to hear whatever you’re going to request of him. There’s always hope there in his big browns, always something specific he’s waiting for you to ask, and every day you get a little bit closer to understanding what it might be. But until then, any question is a welcome one, any query is met with his wish to provide.

“Will you tell me how you lost your arm?”

At first you thought you may have gone too far, that maybe you insulted him, as his eyebrows peaked together and he looked down at his hand. But then, “That is a tale that may cause you some consternation, trinket. The Green is dangerous and unforgiving, and there were times I may not have been a man worthy of fair opinion.”

“My father was a prospector, you know. I’ve heard stories. Have you ever killed anyone?”

He clicked his tongue and screwed up an eye, causing the thin white scar on his cheek to twist. Then he sighed and returned to your locked gaze. “To be honest, I have. Though I have never done so with pleasure, I have killed in defense and out of desperation, and it was out of dispatching a man in this way that I came to lose the second favorite of all my appendages.”

“Second favorite?”

“Well, it depends what you classify as a limb.” He huffed a small laugh, a spark in his eye, trying to diffuse the harsh subject in his own way.

His leaning into baseness never bothered you. There was something earthy about it, gritty and rough, but never lewd. You rewarded his crassness with a smile. “Do you plan on killing me out in the Green?”

“I would hope my murdering days are behind me, and if they are not, you would see me aim a thrower at everyone but you in the course of my spree. You are under my tutelage, and for that, I owe you a duty of care. That is my word by Kevva.”

“Then tell me the story. I like your stories. I promise not to judge now-Ezra by then-Ezra.”

A dimple formed on his cheek, a punctuation mark framing the approaching anecdote on his lips. “Then I will declare myself absolved of any sin heretofore and regale you with a clean and grateful heart.”

________________

You can see the tent through the trees and you realize with some horror that it’s just you and Ezra for the next few nights. If he’s angry with you, and this is how he is when he’s upset, the silence will be unbearable.

Even that little girl he helped out here years ago was probably more capable than you. You feel so lost in this moment, and it’s only made worse by his silence. You fumble with your communicator and hit the mute just in time to choke on a sob.

This isn’t like you. You’re not one to cry when things get rough. You hardly shed a tear when your father died. But the thought of that just brings another sob and as acting as your own psychologist you realize that you are experiencing some displaced sorrow, the odd need to please the leading male in your life, the one that’s walking ahead of you, away from you. If he’d just turn around and throw you his worn weary smile, if he’d just start up a conversation you’d know that there was hope for you, you’d know you didn’t give up everything to be here in a job you couldn’t hack.

You gotta stop this. Or it’s going to be an uncomfortable night.

Shake it off.

Once you enter the tent, the usual dance happens. Ezra reaches up to turn on the air scrubber and you unhook his filter tube from his helmet. When he turns to you, you pull open the zipper cover on his suit and start his zip for him before lifting his helmet up and off. He can pull the zip the rest of the way, but you generally pull the left collar down for him so he can get his arm out. He’s on his own from there as you turn to fuss with your own gear. 

________________

You remember it starting easily enough. He was telling you a story about the breeding habits of the Tokovian Musk Owl and you could see he was having trouble with his suit zipper, yanking at it and trying to look down at it even though it was under his chin and his helmet. Without another hand to keep the fabric taut, the zip didn’t want to release, so you simply batted his hand away and started it for him. He didn’t even stop his yammering, just threw in a “thank you” somewhere in between “could hear them screeching” and “for a fuck.” He’d right out asked you the day before if you wouldn’t mind disengaging the filter tube just because it was delicate and he didn’t want to mangle the expensive part trying to pop it out one-handed day after day. And while he could manage the helmet fine enough, his prominent nose thanked you for a smoother removal for sure. 

It wasn’t the only routine dance you’d concocted. 

There was the harness dance.

While dig days were excruciating, you always looked forward to helping him attach the harness for his prosthesis--a kind of rigid pole attached to a shovel so you didn’t have to do all the hard digging alone. There were a couple of straps that came around his torso with multiple latches and you’d come to really enjoy wrapping your arms around him to fit the straps on. Sure, you could do the job just as easily from behind, but if you embraced him at the front, he’d usually raise his arm and let it come to rest around your shoulders while you worked. If you let yourself dream, it would be easy to imagine that he might be pressing you into him just a little bit.

And there was the harvesting dance.

On a dig, you were the one to mix the fazer and Ezra did the pour. He fished the sack, you cut the cord. You sliced the outer casing and held it open while he did the extraction. And with the flesh-covered stone, he told you every time to “hold it like you love it” so he could cut away the slippery blister before cleaning the gemstone.

It was a beautiful harmony. And the only way it worked. Because once on every dig he urged you to do a solo extraction, and on every dig, you pierced the blister and lost that stone. And on every dig, he squeezed your shoulder and told you it was a wondrous try, that he was proud of you, and there would always be another turn. There was no sarcasm, no pity, just a warm smile and ceaseless optimism even though you just lost both of you thousands in pay.

These were the first touches, these shoulder squeezes that ran down your arm on the let-go. Sometimes he would just reach out and grab onto you like a pole to help himself up, or he might stumble off balance on uneven ground and without the counterweight of his right arm he’d throw his hand out onto you to steady himself. He wasn’t beyond lightly touching the small of your back to encourage you down a path or to take your next try at a gem pull. 

This was all part of something you’ve secretly named the left-handed-lover’s dance. Basically, that you keep on his left whenever you can in case he needs your help or has the inclination to reach for you. It started out as just trying to be a good partner. Then it became a passing hope that it was more than just a friendly bond. But you were both here to do a job. He was here to teach you to be an independent prospector and you were here to assist and learn. That was evident at the end of the day; once you were both in the tent and out of the suits he never touched you, never so much as bumped into you or grazed your hand in passing an item or clapped you on the arm after a good joke. 

But out in the field all zipped in and helmets on, there was nothing more natural than his gentle hand guiding you or reaching for your assistance, including the day you realized you loved him.

________________

Before you can turn away to strip off your own coverings, Ezra catches your arm, spinning your face into the light. You try to shake him off, not wanting him to catch your eyes puffy from crying and your cheeks still streaked with tears, but his grip is not so gentle now and he yanks you back around to his stormy glare, chin up, brows low. His intensity paralyzes you, rendering you unable to continue your struggle when he catches your eyes with his.

When Ezra gives you his attention, it is absolute.

His gaze travels back and forth between your eyes, waiting for an explanation, a minute so stringent it breaks you down, dissolves you into the tears you’d tried so hard to hide.

“I’m sorry, Ezra. I really am trying... I don’t know why I’m such a scuffer at this and I know it would only be right to release you from the contract and tell you to send me back but I don’t want you to, I really wanna stay, I really wanna learn and I’m so, so sorry.”

Your words have an immediate effect, softening him, pulling his glare into concern and wonder, his lips parting just the tiniest bit in surprise.

“This is the reason for your heavy mood? You think I am provoked by your proficiency in the field?” 

“I crusted up good today and it seems like you’re not happy about it. Just...know that it means so much to me that...I don’t wanna let you down.”

“Oh, trinket, no.” An incredulous huff jumps out of him and his grip on your arm loosens, becomes a splayed warm support behind your shoulder, moving in soothing patterns and you’re instantly relieved that your assumptions were wrong. “You have done no harm in my book. It is not an easy thing to deliver a gem of this ilk into the world unscathed. Your opportunities have been few and scattered and it takes many sticks before a lover becomes a lothario.” He knows the crass humor will make you laugh, knows what to say to lighten your heart, to get you to soften, and bring you into his intimate, conspiratorial mood. “To be perfectly honest, I am selfish to an unrighteous degree, for every gem you burn keeps me in value to you. A worthy sacrifice to guarantee you mightn’t be so quick in your need to fly away from me until your training’s complete.”

This causes a hitch in your breath as you see the welcome turn the conversation he’s taking and you follow the path he’s making for you. “I don’t want to leave you, Ez.”

A smile creeps up one side of his mouth. “Well then I am a happy man. A bargain is struck! Partners it is.”

“Partners it is.”

A moment hangs between you as he rubs his thumb in slow circles on your shoulder. There’s that look in his eye again, the one where he’s waiting for you to ask the question he wants to hear from you. So close now.

Still, you’re unsure. “I guess I’m lucky I found the one person who wants an incompetent partner.”

“No, I do not, nor is it what I have and I must express my objection to your self-debasement. This work is not for the shiny, and you have not once complained about taking on the meat of the digging or the crawl of my schedule.”  His hand comes to your helmet shield and he rakes his thumb across it as if he ached to wipe away one of your staleing tears. “Those bright eyes of yours got a penchant for spotting deposits more skillfully than I could ever manage and that’s not something that can be taught; that’s talent, girl. The blistering?” He shrugs. “Even I can’t manage that without the steady help of your fine hands. You may think that your blunders in education are causing us some financial ruin, but our fortunes are creamy. I assure you, we can afford it.”

That look is still there. He’s waiting. “There’s some ‘us’ and ‘we’ in there, Ez.” Your hands drift to his sides, taking fistfuls of his compression suit top, willing him closer.

The edges of his eyes take on the crinkle you’ve come to find so much comfort in. “So there is.”

You’re almost there. You know what he wants. “Why were you so quiet on the walk back?” 

“Because for the next few days we are alone here and I have a mind full of questions I do not know how to ask you.”

“Then let me go first.” A yearning happiness settles in his brown eyes; finally. Finally you’ve found out what it is he needs you to request of him. “If I take this helmet off, are you going to kiss me, Ez?”

His eyes close in contentment and he nods, “Yes. Yes, little jewel. Yes I am, that and more. I hope I have inferred correctly that it is your wish that I do so, because I am in free fall. I feel my orbit ending and my pull to you is complete.”

_______________

“A moon is an orbiting admirer, and what is an orbit but a long fall to oblivion?”

Speculating days were some of your favorite times, just wading through the brush and looking for the telltale signs and shoots of an underlying deposit. Sometimes you came upon nests of strange groundling insects or flowers that only grew in secret. There were treasures underfoot on this poisonous moon, but if you remembered to look up as well, you might find some dangerous beauties there too. 

On that day--the one where you finally understood your heart--you’d looked up to find that you were on a cliffside overlooking a valley, the canopy a million different hues of green, the gas giant looming over half the sky in a big pink and orange semi-circle. There was a fallen log that served as a perfect seat for the perfect view and you knew Ezra wouldn’t mind if you stole a few moments to sit and to take it in. It’s just the kind of thing he’d appreciate. And you were proven right when he came up behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder to steady himself as he swung one leg then the other over the log, finding a perch next to you, spouting pretty words through the channel link--soft and low--about moons and orbits and obilvions.

“That glowing beauty is Bakhroma. She is quiet and fierce, made up of the unfathomable and the unknowable, always within sight, but out of reach and untouchable unless one would trade the honor with great sacrifice. She reflects the light that is given to her with a patience that is heretofore untold. And the Green Moon upon which we ride follows where she goes like a lovesick fool, spinning around her in a heady kind of adoration, full of secret treasures buried deep down that will ultimately one day belong to her, falling incrementally over eons until he finally loses himself in her, all his glories gladly forfeit to her welcome and inevitable embrace. Alone but together, seemingly eternal, pulled as one by the laws of a mysterious universe.”

The void that came after those words was filled with the beating of your heart, and you were sure he could hear it through the channel.

When he’d landed there beside you, you’d registered how his hand slid off your shoulder, diagonally down across your back, coming to rest at your waist, his arm draped lightly around you. Natural. Easy. Everything was warm--the colors of the sky, the care with which he kept you close as if to better hear the honey sweetness in his prose, the fire burning in your lungs and neck.

Ezra probably didn’t know that you spoke a little Vayok.

Bakh being the Vayok word for adornment. Ornament, Gem. Roma was a modifier, a diminutive. Small. Dear.

Bakhroma. Sentimental bauble. A little jewel.

In other words, a trinket.

All you wanted to do was sit down to take in the view of an entire world for a few moments, but by the time Ezra took your hand and helped you to your feet, all you saw was him.

________________

The helmet is barely off before his lips are sealed to yours in a press of greed. Even if he can’t form words when he kisses you, he can’t help but express his deep relief in a heartbreaking moan. It’s a fight to release yourself from the suit when he keeps pulling you against him and every time you try to get some space between you to work the zipper, he chuckles into your mouth, enjoying the tease and the struggle. It’s simultaneously frustrating and thrilling and you give in for a few moments just to give him what he seems to want so desperately right now.

Ezra kisses like a man starved for air, long, hard, and full of need, peeling his lips away only to come back for another breath of you until his initial want is slaked and he slows, allows for more time between his taking, his mouth starting to mumble against yours, praising you with pet names, telling you how perfect you are to him, how long he’s “fought against my more dubious natures to respect your womanly virtues and take them only when you could see in me a man worth bestowing them on.”

You’re able to use his weakness for monologuing to turn around in his vice-like embrace, finally freeing yourself of the suit and he takes the opportunity to drawl more pretty words in your ear, warning you that “I’m afraid I have been enamored of you overly long and may be extra eager in my attentions. So you just say the word if you need a slow down, gentle one, and I will do my best to comply. Although I will admit it will be a difficult endeavor indeed as I feel I am entering your atmosphere and nothing might quell this burn but finding some drowning place to land.”

Your first impression of him was of a man whose age and temperament and body would not be able to overpower you.

Your first impression was wrong.

Of course, it helps that you are willing.

It doesn’t take long for him to strip you down, and then himself. To kiss you down onto the floor. To find exactly where you like to be touched most and how long it takes for you to break from it. He has so many words for you, so many praises to sing about every part of you that is round or soft or wet, comparing you to things that are sweet and plush or celestial and holy. And when you take his favorite limb in hand--as wondrous as the rest of his body--and guide it to its fit, he plunders and harvests all you have to give him, filing you with himself, for as long as you call for it, as long as you let him. He loves you like he speaks to you: rough and drawn out, full of beautiful tangents and meandering plotlines, but in the end it is beautiful and fulfilling; you may be just a little bit confused how you got to the ending, but you’re completely in awe.

When you lay breathing heavy, staring but not seeing the ceiling of the tent, your consciousness seemingly lifted to see through it to the stars, to the glowing face of Bakhroma, you run hands through rough-chopped hair on a head laying on your chest. He’s listening to your heartbeat, waiting for it to slow down so he can start again. The air is thick--even the air scrubber can’t keep up with all your humidity--and there’s a halo around each bulb of the string lights just barely illuminating the darkness.

“How long, Ez?”

“Hm?”

“How long have you been waiting for that.”

“Most likely since the day you walked into my interview. I am a man of simple wants and you had all the right parts for my preferences.”

“For real, Ez.”

He tipped his head up to find you. “What you ask has many true answers, and I stand by the first. I have no qualms telling you of my weakness for a pretty succulence and a kind smile the likes of which you possess. But if you are asking when I knew I would have it, well, that may have been the first day you danced. Or when you asked me to read you to sleep. Or when I understood I wouldn’t let those bastard raiders get near enough to take their turn at your qualities when I had not had them myself. Or when you finally saw me as a viable person to drape your affections on; maybe it was that day too.”

“When I finally saw you as....”

“I have read many tomes and verses but none so full of beautiful passages as your face that day on the cliff. There is a difference of knowing and being. I knew the feel of your pull that day, but found I’d been in orbit all along.”

How he can live this way, twist everything into a tossed away poem...it should be exhausting. Yet you feed off it. You breathe it like air.

After another long cycle of frenzied entanglement and violent euphoria, you ask Ezra if he’d like to move to a cot, maybe get some sleep. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to walk to the dig tomorrow morning,” you confess.

“No need to worry about tomorrow,” he says, wapping his arm around you and dragging you back to him, grumbling into your ear. “We are the only prospectors in this sector and the aurelac will wait. Until our new compatriots arrive, we are officially on hiatus. Recreational mining only. Restricted to the confines of this tent. By order of your supervisor. In the interest of more precious treasures. And I intend to strike it rich.”

“Well. I’m here to assist. And learn.”

“When it comes to this dig, trinket, you are more than competent. I am no longer your trainer. Partners it is.”

“Partners it is.”

The new contract is struck, signed and sealed in kissing and in touch and a long, slow fall into inevitable oblivion.

[inkandpen22]

Permanent Chaos (5/?)

Pairing: MGK x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: none

Part Summary: Colson and Y/N talk over coffee and Colson shows her a hint of what it’s like to be a part of his world. 

Masterlist

The Starbucks in the courtyard has since emptied out with everyone having to return to work after their breaks. Colson and I are two of the only remaining people inside. My hands are wrapped around cup, it’s nice and warm. I had to remove the lid to cool down the substance. We’ve been going back and forth, sharing facts about ourselves. 

"Have you always wanted to be an actress?” 

Studying the dark brown drink in my cup I recall memories from before I moved here.“No, in all honesty. I never saw myself as an actress.” 

He doesn’t try to hide his surprise. His stunned reaction makes me giggle. 

"If you don’t mind me asking, why do you do it then?” 

I sway my head from side to side. “It sorta just worked out. I was out shopping with my mom one day when I was in high school. Nicole approached us. She was in town on business and encouraged me to at least visit Los Angeles so we could set up a meeting. The next thing I knew I was in auditions and I got my part on The Seasons of Life a few months later.” 

“Wow,” his brows remain raised as he glances down at his drink. “If you weren’t acting what would you be doing?”

Sitting up straight, I remember what I once thought was my dream life. “First I would go to college and…” I wave my hand, dismissing the thought. 

Colson presses for me to say it. “you’d what? Come on!” He chuckles, grinning brightly. 

Rolling my eyes, I tell him. “I’d go to art school.” I bite my lip timidly. “Yeah... that would be nice.” I pick at the cardboard wrap on the cup. 

There’s a comfortable silence between us until I change the subject. “Enough about me! What about you? If you weren’t a singer, where would be right now?” 

He looks over in the distance, almost envisioning where his life would be. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” he shrugs but is pleased, “I’ve always loved music. Being in music allows me to do what I love.” 

I nod, almost impervious of him and his contentment. 

“However,” he adds pointing at me. “If it were up to my parents, I would have some office job probably.” 

"Eh, those jobs are so bland. I vote you stick to concerts," I giggle. 

He laughs and it’s contagious. 

My gaze lands on his arm as he reaches for his coffee. His entire arm is covered in ink. I was taught by my parents to despise tattoos. My mom would say, “why would anyone ever be willing to damage their body like that?” Finn jumped on that bandwagon. Whatever Mom says is considered fact to him. For the longest time, I agreed with them. That is until I met Colson. He was made to have tattoos. 

 I’ve seen many people in this city with tattoos but his aren’t just markings for the body, they’re art. 

“Which one are you interested in?” He questions, watching me as I admire them. 

“All of them,” I mumble, examining each one individually in awe. 

Back where I’m from tattoos are frowned upon quite frankly. When you grow up in a place no different than Pleasantville, that’s what you get. Especially, in South Carolina. 

“Do you have any?” He asks with amusement in his voice. 

I shake my head rapidly, “never in a million years!” Comprehending how he could take my response as an insult I’m quick to explain. “I mean, I would never be allowed.” 

His brows scrunch together. "Never been allowed? You’re an adult. Who’s stopping you?” 

I can’t help but snicker a little. If only it was as simple as he makes it sound. “My parents, brother, Nicole, Steph..." 

Colson narrows his eyes at me as he leans forward in his chair. “You’re your own person. You should be able to make your own decisions.” His argument is lacking and quite frankly too optimistic. 

“It’s complicated…” My eyes fall onto my fingers picking at the cardboard rim of my coffee cup. 

“If you say so… except all of them are keeping you from expressing yourself.” 

I roll my eyes as my lips form a smirk. It’s unbelievable, he makes everything sound so black and white. “You’ll never understand,” I conclude. 

“I understand more than you think.” 

Lifting my eyes up, he stares at me with a sincere expression. 

“Prove it,” I challenge him. 

Based on the change of his features, I have given him exactly what he wants.

"If you say so, Princess," he chuckles, rising from his chair. I stare at him in confusion and he offers me his hand. "You coming?" 

I smirk, slipping my hand into his. He grins and bites down on his lower lip. I'm going to regret this. 

_______________________________________________

Driving around with a guy I’m only acquainted to is completely unlike me. Everyone who knows me would be beyond freaked out at the current scene. It's kind of riveting. 

“We’ve been driving for almost an hour," I snicker. 

“It’ll be worth it, trust me!” 

“Where exactly are we going?” 

“The mystery is half the fun!” Colson enjoys the antics. 

I reach forward and change the radio station. Yungblud's "Parents" plays and I leave it. "Love this song," I mumble to myself. 

Colson glances over me, evidently surprised. "You know Dom's music?" 

"What? Just because you view me as a 'goody-two-shoes' doesn't mean I live under a rock." I giggle and hold my finger for him to wait a second. He chuckles. I begin to rap the lyrics from memory. "Yeah, the teacher fucked the preacher. But then he had to leave her. Had to wash away the sins of a male cheerleader. Hi, nice to meet ya, got nothing to believe in. So let me know when my breathing stops!" 

Colson turns up the volume to blasting and we then shout the chores together. I can’t remember the last time I had the chance to drive with the windows down, blasting music, and acting my age. I’ve forgotten what’s it like to just be a young girl, not working all the time. 

Once the song fades out, he turns down the volume. 

"So, she can rap too!" Colson looks at me, rather impressed. 

I dismiss his compliment with a wave of my hand. "Only if I've listened to a song a dozen times." 

"Not gonna lie, that was hot," he chuckles. 

Warmth rushes to my cheeks and I struggle not to smile. My head rests against the window as I watch the ocean become a blur as we drive down the PCH. 

_______________________________________

Colson drives down the road until there’s a dead end. To my surprise and then confusion, he parks the car. 

“We’re here!" He announces before jumping out of the car. 

There’s nothing here. Bushes, sad-looking trees, and dirt. I watch as he walks over to a clearing between some bushes. 

He peers over his shoulder. “You coming?” 

I take a deep breath and swing open the door. Following him to wherever we are, I spot a sign. 

                                   No Trespassing! 

“Hey Colson, that sign said no trespassing. We should go back.” 

He doesn’t even slow down as he walks down a weak path. “I’ve seen it, they never do anything.” 

With every passing moment, this road trip becomes more and more out of my comfort zone. Nicole and my entire team for that matter have guided me to prefer the indoors these past few years. I can’t remember the last time I spent an entire day outside in nature or not following a schedule. 

There’s a light at the end of the tunnel when the brush ends and the path opens up to a clearing. The sound of waves hitting the cliff before us echoes throughout the area. 

I cautiously step closer to the edge and look down to the bottom. “Wow!” I say to myself breathlessly. 

Colson peers down to the shoreline beside me. He then suddenly removes his jacket and moves on to his shirt. 

My jaw drops and I quickly direct my attention to the coastline far from him. I bring my hand to the side of my face shyly, blocking my sight of him undressing. “What the hell are you doing?” 

He chuckles behind me. I’m glad he can find so much amusement in my discomfort. “Cliff diving!” He says a matter of factly. 

“What! No you couldn’t! It’s illegal in these parts! You could get killed!” 

“Or, I’ll jump, have loads of fun and do it again!” He debates. 

I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. “Fine, you live out your death wish. I won’t be participating!” Whipping around and avoiding even sharing a short glance with him, I stomp toward the direction we came. 

He drops his shirt on top of his jacket in the grass and jogs to catch up to me. He squeezes my shoulder, using the other hand to plea with me. I whip my head around to face him. That's when I notice his tattoo-covered chest. 

“Oh let’s do it, Princess!" He encourages. "It’ll be thrilling! An adventure! Reckless! Something different!” 

Did he just call me Princess? No one has ever called me that and he has twice now. 

Colson takes my hand into both of his and I’m thrown off by the action.  “Be spontaneous with me,” he requests softly. 

Currently, I’m debating with myself. The youthful part of me is screaming ‘hell yes! Let’s do this!’ The businesswoman part of me is wiser than to take such a risk. I check over at the edge again. My willingness to do such a rebellious action is new to me. There’s no one here to see us. Paparazzi isn’t around to take pictures. Perhaps the cause of my newfound bravery is because of him. 

I take a deep breath and nod. “Okay, let’s do it.” 

As if he already knew I would eventually accept, his grin only grows. 

“Well then, I suggest you strip unless you prefer to sit around like a wet dog for the hour ride back.” He winks at me, biting his lower lip. 

In a normal case, I would be insulted by such a forward request but considering where we stand I find it humorous. After thoroughly checking the area for any cameras or strangers, I slip my dress over my head then kick off my wedges. An odd feeling stirs in my stomach and my heart is pounding. My comfort zone is shot to hell. 

Tossing my hair up in a ponytail, Colson scans my appearance. 

“Excuse me Mr. Baker, it’s not nice to stare,” I tease, yanking at my finished ponytail to tighten it. 

Unfazed, he snaps out of it and faces the shore. His hair wisps around in the breeze, falling over his face. The perfect strands are just as light as his eyes. His jawline could cut a diamond. His skin, as smooth as porcelain but covered in various tattoos. 

“Excuse me Miss Voss, it’s not nice to stare,” he repeats my words back to me. 

I snap out of my daze. “Wasn’t staring,” I argue, now turning towards the coast. 

“Nothing to be ashamed of, I know I'm hot.” His lips curve into a loose smirk. 

My time with him is often one big eye roll. I slowly approach the edge of the cliff, peering over. 

“Nervous?” He checks, looking down at the water for himself. 

“Nope." I lie. 

“Scared?” 

“No.” 

“Have you jumped from a cliff before?” 

I exhale deeply. “No.” 

He shifts his body to face me and I flicker my eyes to the side to meet his gaze. 

“And you’re not afraid?” He checks. 

“Not at all,” I admit without hesitation. 

He snickers, whether it be because he’s impressed or he doesn’t believe me. “How come?” 

I shrug, a brief hum for an answer escaping me. “The unknown doesn’t scare me, only challenges me… and I love a challenge,” I wink with a sly grin. 

His warm hand interlocks with mine and I nearly yank mine away yet because of the non-threatening look in his eyes, I stay. In fact, a part of me likes the feeling of his large hand in mine. It makes me feel safer than I have in quite some time. 

“On three” he exhales, staring off into the distance. 

I nod. 

“One," he counts. “Two...”

I exhale. I can't believe I'm doing this! 

"Three!" Colson shouts. 

I jump. Out of instinct, I squeeze Colson’s hand tighter. My voice travels in a scream as the two of us fall towards the crystal blue surface. He was right, this is such a rush! We torpedo into the water and the cold temperatures engulf me. Colson and I lose touch at some point then I kick to the surface. Wiping the excess water from my face, Colson pops up from under the water in front of me. Somehow even when wet and disheveled his hair still appears effortlessly pristine. 

“Wasn't that a rush!” His arm snakes around my waist. 

A part of me is begging for me to protest but I suppress that part of me. Instead, I rest my arms over his shoulders. He takes the opportunity to guide my legs around his waist. Shading my eyes from the sun with my hand I measure the height of where we jumped. 

Still struggling to catch my breath, I can’t help but smile widely. “It was a one-time opportunity!” 

“That’s up to you to decide!” he argues wittily. 

I lower my hand and his blue eyes see right through me. My eyes flicker down to his lips and impulsively, I slam my lips to his. I'm not sure what comes over me, but I needed to kiss him. Colson wastes no time, bringing a hand behind my head, deepening the kiss. We break apart only to catch our breath. 

“I believe you’ll prove to be a bad influence,” I say lightheartedly but between the lines with the utmost seriousness. 

“That depends on how you look at it,” he argues, his breathing inconstant.

Hungrily, he brings his lips back to mine and I melt into it. Colson is everything that’s bad for me. He’s an indulgence that’s disguising itself as a need. He’s toxic and I’m ignoring the warnings. The warmth of his palm radiates onto my face as he cups it. 

Against my lips, he grins. “You were spontaneous! Always be spontaneous!” His words, nearly sounding like a beg, settle in me. 

His crystal blues eyes stare into mine and I can’t help but be addicted. I'm falling for a fairytale.

________________________________________

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