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buoyant-breeze · 3 years ago

Note

hi!! I love your writing so much!! Would I be able to request more of the high school AU headcanons, maybe with Venti, Kazuha and Kaeya? thank u so much!!

authors note ⊱ omg yes... i love this au a lot so i went ahead and wrote for it hahaha

also i mention kazuha’s mysterious samurai friend, who im just gonna call tomo, which is what the fans generally refer to him as from what ive seen!!!

part one (albedo, childe, zhongli)

characters ⊱ venti, kazuha, kaeya

warnings ⊱ mentions of drugs and alluded family issues in kaeya’s, but other than that, completely safe! please enjoy!

rating ⊱ sfw

venti

the theater kid who everybody somehow knows, even without sharing a class or club with him; he’s strangely capable of drawing everyone’s attention, even to the point of his own detriment, and probably knows the name of almost everyone in school due to the random and weird situations he’s gotten himself into

also the kid that is a senior but everyone thinks is a freshman, maybe a sophmore, because he looks so young

plays roles in theater / drama without any sense of gender restraint; can perfectly nail a feminine, androgynous, or even masculine character

has very average grades except in the classes he actually cares about, which are all generally pretty artsy (music, drama, what you’d generally expect)

fails all his math classes, and fails them hard - it’s reached a point where he has to make up a few credits to be able to graduate, but that’s okay, he’s not good at everything, and he’s happy with that

probably got tutored by several different people but none of them can really get him to develop a good work ethic

the kid that probably circles ‘c’ on all the answers for a test he doesn’t understand and somehow manages to get a passing grade (but not an exceptional one)

has a very low attention span which really doesn’t help his studying or homework skills

he doesn’t drive at all because he’s bad at it and it gives him awful anxiety, even though he’s old enough to drive and could very well work towards getting a license (usually he leeches off his friends for a ride, haha)

you probably meet him through some weird circumstance like when he brings his pet lizard, dvalin, to school (against the rules), or after he tries to do the, this bitch empty! yeet! soda can thing and then bonking you on the head with it, or alternatively, and this is where im going to lean into: he’s pretty much had a crush on you since the moment he saw you in his class

and venti is simultaneously going to be heavily pining for you while also spontaneously walking up to you and making any excuse he can to interact with you because he wants to be your friend (and maybe, after that, something more)

he’ll try and join one of your clubs, like he might come up to you and be like, “haha, wait, aren’t you in that chess club? i love chess!” he does not love chess. he loses to it all the time against zhongli. he hates it. (but he’ll grin his teeth and join it because he wants to be with you)

and it sort of escalates from that point, and if you were ever interested in theater, he’s an instant ticket in (as long as he thinks your vouchable, he wouldn’t lie)

extremely touchy and affectionate even as just a friend; he’s the type of person you have a crush on and it only just becomes infuriatingly more evident because he’ll lay his head down against your shoulder, or randomly come and sit on your lap (very casually), or give you those ‘friendly’ kisses on the forehead

and he definitely makes excuses to touch you, like saying, “oh, you got a dandelion seed in your hair!” while at lunch together, and he plucks it out between his fingers with a big smile, or he’ll do things like brushing his hand up against yours

the pining is awful and everyone is painfully aware of your crushes on each other, it’s horrendous

but at one point things boil over, maybe someone gets jealous or theres a small argument, and then venti (or perhaps you) stamps his feet down with a big frown and huffs, “i like you!”

once you two start officially dating, those frequent touches from before are basically unhinged in a way you could never predict

he becomes very clingy, even more than usual, to the point he’s pretty much hanging off of you, holding onto your arm, leaning into you; he’s full-blown pda, and doesn’t care what anyone else thinks

he really loves attention, he thrives off of any of your affectionate gestures, touches, or affirmations

goes overboard on valentines day, he gives you an excessive amount of gifts, ranging from flowers to candies to plushies, and he definitely, definitely, gives you a love letter that he wrote himself with a sheepish, shy smile

also the type to run around giving all his friends and especially you, some of those cute valentines day cards, except he gives way too much candy, to the point his friends are kinda worried about him haha

is not afraid to make out with you at any given moment or time, to the point that your friends will groan and you’ll probably be told off by a hall monitor or teacher, haha

he loves to hold your hand when walking to classes you share together, and on the ones you don’t share, he’ll eagerly walk you to yours, even if he ends up late for his own

study/tutoring dates but he keeps stealing kisses instead of concentrating, until next thing you know, you’ve just been making out for the entire time

doesn’t care one way or the other about school events unless it’s related to theater, music, or his friends, but he definitely wouldn’t mind going to homecoming or prom with you if that’s something you really wanted

but just be ready for him to drag you to every one of his performances or to be his date as he goes and supports one of his buddies (and he’ll spoil you the entire time with treats and kisses)

you guys end up being very well-known in the school, in a very infamous way, just because of venti’s excessive pda and desire to constantly talk about you

kazuha

the quiet kid that likes the seats by the window because then he can look outside

he doesn’t really cause much fuss in school, he’s extremely polite and good-natured, and generally well-loved and admired by all of the teachers and staff members, who inevitably end up knowing him because of his helpful, kind nature

he doesn’t really go out of his way to socialize with anyone, but in classes, you’ll always see him calmly raising his hand, and whenever he’s called on by teachers, he always knows the answers, even if it doesn’t seem like he’s paying attention

has very beautiful, neat notes that are honestly enviable

his grades, however, aren’t very perfect, especially his test scores; he’s admonished by his parents for it, but he doesn’t see what’s so wrong with just having b’s and low a’s, with test scores that are only slightly above average

not super interested in college in general, he instead is making plans to just wander and travel the world after he graduates, since he doesn’t have any particular dreams or ambitions

gravitates largely to his friend group, which consist of tomo, gorou, thoma, ayato, and miss ayata, with the occasional appearance of yoimiya; obviously, tomo is his best friend, but he hangs out with gorou quite a lot, and these two are basically the bread and butter of his social interactions

the type who would probably have a crush on you from afar but not really say or do anything about it, so his friends have to tease him about it until he gets the courage to eventually strike up a conversation

and that opportunity comes with time, he’s a little anxious about it

but then he finally comes around, and next thing you know, in the english class you share with him, he walks up to you and airily asks if he could work with you on the assignment, and it all goes from there

ends up being your friend after consistent encounters; you asking him for help with classes, him seeking you out for companionship, and even you two end up beginning to each lunch together

but the funny thing is his friends are going to butt in and try to encourage you two to hang out more and more, especially tomo, but also gorou

they start befriending you as well, in a very sincere but amicable way, eagerly learning more about you and then basically dragging you into their friend group so you can spend more time with kazuha

because kazuha has a hard time initating a lot of things on his own

it also is probably them that ends up noticing when you start reciprocating kazuha’s feelings, and then it’s game over, they’re eagerly encouraging you to confess

and next thing you know, one blushing love confession between both you and kazuha later, you’re dating

you’ll find love notes and affectionate haikus tucked into all of the perfect places, waiting for you to find them—whether it be your locker, or in the page of a textbook you were studying with kazuha, or even just as a text on your phone

he also sometimes leaves small gifts; tiny trinkets, but all meaningful

sometimes it’s a lucky charm that is meant to bring you fortune, other times it’s your favorite flower that he used his allowance to buy from a florist

doesn’t really like social events, but if you wanted to go to school celebrations like prom or homecoming, chances are you’re in luck, because his friends might drag him into doing it anyway

he also doesn’t really like nor care for study dates; he’d prefer to just hang out with you

that said, he’d love to come over to your house or have you come over to his and meet his parents, even if they’re a little overbearing

he also would go on boba dates or weekend hangouts with you

on valentine’s day, he writes you a very meaningful love poem that he recites to you softly when you two are alone and in a very scenic place

you guys as a couple aren’t very well known by anyone except your friend group, who will tease you about it but in a very friendly, happy way, because they’re obviously very excited and pleased to see you two together

kaeya

he hates school, lmao

he knows how to drive, and he’s a very safe and good driver, he has a relatively nice car, but nothing fancy or special (the inside is always a bit cluttered and messy, though)

he also has a part-time job he does off-and-on, nothing super big, but just enough that it gives him experience and some cash to spend, since he is, unfortunately, pretty independent due to circumstances

his grades aren’t necessarily bad, but they’re not exactly the best; he gets relatively average grades that do spike up into more positive territory, but he’s failed a few classes, too

he’s good at studying, but it’s hard to find the motivation to care about the education system, because he doesn’t feel very rewarded for it

he skips a lot of classes though, he probably perfectly calculates how many credits he needs and what absences he can spare, and then goes and fucks off with rosaria, lisa, and venti (whenever venti decides to show up, that is)

him and his friends radiates that bisexual, they/them friend group energy, and it’s awesome

he’s definitely a senior, so he’s one of the more older kids at the school

he’s also friends with who you’d expect, and he’s surprisingly on school council despite his questionable work ethic; he’s sort of an assistant to jean, who is school council president, and he works with lisa and albedo there, too

despite skipping classes and being pretty indifferent about his own grades, he is extremely encouraging and supportive to all of the younger students he ends up meeting and helping

like, bennett and amber, for example, are basically these freshmans or sophmores that he’s constantly looking out for, and he always is their cheerleader, strongly motivating them to get really good grades, go to their classes, and carve a future for themselves; he will give them rides to school if they need it, but they don’t ever take him up on his offer unless it’s an emergency

fucks around and acts like a dick when he’s with his fellow seniors and especially his friends, he probably annoys albedo and childe a lot, but for the most part, whenever he sees a new student or if they’re in the first or second year classes, he’s always a nice and friendly face for them, he wouldn’t hesitate to help them out

he wouldn’t call himself ambitious, but he’ll probably do something with law enforcement or general governing management after he graduates, even with his very odd school record

even if it doesn’t look like it, he does kinda want the world to be a little better, and he does want to create change in what ways he can

meeting him isn’t really that hard, he tends to gravitate people into his presence, and he’s always willing to help those he sees worthy of being helped

so chances are you probably just bump into him or he randomly gives you an act of kindness with a shrug of his shoulders and a casual smile

i think the best way you’d probably meet him is by also being a senior, and then one day in class, the teacher is out of the room, and everyone is messing around and being goofy

and next thing you know, kaeya is randomly seating himself next to you, one of his skipping-class-friends at his side, and asking you a very random question, like, “hey, do you think our teacher looks like a drug dealer?” and it just goes through an entire conversation about it, all with him being very inclusive and relatively friendly, and after that, he just thinks you’re cool and will easily approach you and be your friend

he’s the type of person that wants to know what you want to do after high school, because he likes to encourage the people he cares about

although he doesn’t mind if you wanna skip with him, he kinda has a small frown and always seems a little reluctant, asking you if you’re sure you want to, since school is important, just not for him, and you don’t need to miss out just to hang out with him

for the most part, encourages you in a similar way he encourages amber and bennett, but if you have your own plans, then he’s cool with that, and will work with it

probably ends up confessing his feelings to you after weeks and weeks of gross, quiet pining

he’s pretty hidden about it, but he always finds excuses to touch you, like playing with your hair while joking or teasing, or gripping your shoulder when he laughs really hard, or leaning conspiratorially close to your side to whisper in your ear

and rosaria does that thing where she takes a drag of her cigarette and calls him out for it when its just him and his friends, and she’s like, “dude, you’ve got it bad. it’s gross.”

at some point, he’s just going to catch you after classes and say, “hey, you got a moment? i want to talk with you, it’s pretty important.”

and once you two find a nice place to be alone, he’ll confess; and it’s very sweet, actually

once you two start dating, he sort of tries to figure out how affectionate he can be around you

he’s hesitant when he reaches for your hand while sitting next to you in class, but then you loop his fingers with yours, and he relaxes; after that, he starts holding your hand more often

he’ll try to gauge how loving he can be; would you be okay with it if he hugged you? picked you up and spinned you around while laughing when you’re at lunch together? if he wrapped an arm over your shoulders or put his jacket over your body to keep you warm?

but once he figures it out, then he’s going all in, knowing the boundaries, but eager for the attention

because truth be told, he’s lonely, and it’s nice to have someone who really cares about him, especially like this, especially someone who cares about him as much as he cares about them, and archons, you’re perfect

generally a super sweet boyfriend

he’ll pick you up and take you to school or back home, if you wanted, but he’d do that even as just friends, honestly

really bad at homework and most school subjects, but if you’re struggling with a problem for your assignment, he will go out of his way to look it up and completely understand the subject, specifically so he can help you get your work done

subtly figures out if you want to go to homecoming or prom, and then based on whether you want to or not, he’ll take you, or he’ll just coop up with you at home

definitely goes on a lot of dates with you afterschool, but he’ll make any excuse to just hang out while at your house or you at his

surprisingly clingy, he follows you around like a puppy, even if he keeps the facade of cool indifference (as i said: lonely)

on valentine’s day, expect a bouquet of your favorite flowers that is perhaps the largest you’ve ever seen, with a goofy little teddy bear and a valentine’s day card that he very affectionately wrote sappy things on

definitely takes you on a date afterschool on valentine’s day, anywhere you want, his treat

lets you stay over at his apartment whenever you want, sleepovers galore (in fact, please do, he really needs company; for the second and millionth time: lonely.)

extremely adoring, you guys are the type of couple that gets married after being highschool sweethearts, and it’s super cute

506 notes · View notes

grapesodatozier · 3 years ago

Text

so close to the real thing (closer than you think)

rating: explicit

word count: 6.8k

summary: Eddie's been pining over Richie for as long as he can remember. He loves everything about Richie; especially how much Richie loves touching him. It's a little inconvenient, though. Eddie copes with his pent up sexual tension by constantly checking a porn blog he's obsessed with on tumblr. This guy has the same type of body as Richie, he talks like Richie, his name is even Richie! It makes it all too easy for Eddie to pretend it really is Richie while getting himself off to all of the blog's content.

You'll never guess what he finds out when he starts sexting this stranger named Richie from his anonymous porn blog.

tags: friends to lovers, porn with feelings, love confessions, dom/sub dynamics, bi dom top richie, gay sub bottom eddie, the most oblivious pining idiots in the world lol we love them

notes: this is one of my more ridiculous ideas but I had so much fun with it lol. also as a note you probably should not approach people on the internet the way they do in this fic, but they're just v enthusiastic and everything here is v consensual!! still tho definitely don't take this indulgent fic as a guide on how to approach real people online lmao. okay have fun!!

read on ao3 or below!!

notsfw under the cut

Eddie Kaspbrak’s friends were his entire world; time spent with them meant everything to him. But he also really valued his alone time. He’d always been the sort who needed time to just sit on a grassy hill and watch the trains go by, to catch up on comics in his room, to get lost in Netflix shows or even just his thoughts as he moseyed around his apartment—one he live in by himself, for when these moods hit. He needed time to himself to unwind. And sometimes he unwound by scrolling through some porn blogs on tumblr with his hand in his pants.

There was one blog that he was particularly fond of. There were other blogs more catered to his personal interests, namely blogs that didn’t feature women like this one did. But there was a good balance of genders represented, so Eddie figured he could just scroll past those posts. This guy was worth it. His pictures were ridiculously hot, and his dirty talk was even hotter.

Also, his name was Richie. Which Eddie refused to acknowledge as part of the draw.

It was harder to ignore tonight. He’d been out with the losers, and Richie had just been so touchy. And there was something about the way he'd been talking; his voice was lower than normal, slower in a way that made Eddie’s stomach flip. And his touches had lingered, his hand squeezing Eddie’s hip slow, then lazily brushing against his ass as he dropped it. Eddie could hardly take it. He brushed it off as Richie just being tired from work, but god, Eddie wanted it to mean more. The hardest part was hiding how much he wanted Richie to keep doing it.

There were so many things Eddie wanted Richie to do to him. He wanted Richie to touch him harder, to grab him by his hips with both hands. Richie’s hands were so big; Eddie just knew Richie could manhandle him so easily, so roughly. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have Richie’s hands all over him, grabbing at his ass and his thighs, holding his wrists down, making him feel so small. While Eddie would never admit it, huffing at every short joke Richie made, but he loved being shorter than Richie. He loved how safe he felt when Richie held him. And he was dying to know how small he would feel with Richie looming above him, or sitting in Richie’s lap, bouncing on his cock. He wanted to hear Richie talking to him in that low, slow voice, with that condescension Eddie did his best to pretend not to be affected by. He wanted Richie to whisper in his ear and call him all those pretty names he always dropped so casually, all those sweet ones and also ones that were a lot meaner. He wanted Richie to want him.

But it was easier to think about it than to ask for it. He knew Richie had way more experience than him. Well, okay, maybe not way more necessarily, but they were starting their third year of college, and he hadn’t wasted any time. Eddie, on the other hand, hadn’t done anything more than hand stuff with someone else. The guys he’d hooked up with were nice enough, and hot enough, but they just… weren’t Richie.

He supposed this guy on tumblr wasn’t Richie either, but at least he was everything else Eddie wanted. None of his hookups had been so, well, dominant, and that was this guy’s whole thing. He was dominant and a top and into guys that looked like Eddie. He even kind of talked like Richie, and he was apparently pining over his best friend, just like Eddie was. It had him completely smitten. Plus, internet-Richie’s crush had brown eyes like Eddie, and he ran track, just like Eddie did. Internet-Richie had posted once about his dick getting hard watching his friend at his track meet, and Eddie had come so hard that night, his track shorts around his ankles, imagining his Richie thinking those things about him.

Eddie was in bed now, in nothing but his boxers and one of Richie’s old shirts that had been Eddie’s for a while now. Still reeling from the way Richie had been acting that night, he logged into his porn account on his phone and scrolled through his dash for a grand total of thirty seconds before going immediately to internet-Richie’s blog. A thrill went through Eddie’s body when he saw that he had just posted. He’d written, “god my friends gonna fuckn kill me with that ass, i wanna plow him so bad” then reblogged it and added, “reminder that my asks and dms are always open if any pretty needy little subs need help getting off. please come be sluts in my messages.” Eddie’s breath caught in his throat when he saw that there was a picture, too, one of him gripping his hard cock, his boxers pulled down just enough for Eddie to see the dark hair around the base of his cock. Eddie moaned at the sight. His cock was so nice, so long and thick and pink. And fuck, his fingers. They were so long and slim, almost as nice as his-Richie’s.

Eddie scrolled a little farther down, his heart racing. There were a lot of reblogs, but some original posts here and there, things like, “what i wouldn’t do to have a pretty guy drooling all over my cock rn,” and, “in the mood to get someone dick drunk. wanna fuck a someone so hard they forget their own name.” One that made Eddie nearly choke said, “want someone i can pump my come into whenever i want, over and over again. want a sub i can keep full of my come all the fuckn time.” That post had Eddie getting out his lube.

It also had him thinking about internet-Richie’s most recent post, his post about his DMs being open.

Eddie bit his lip and thought about it. He’d sent internet-Richie some asks before from his porn blog (his blog didn’t have his name on it, just the teddy bear emoji, since he privately thought the teddy/Eddie rhyme was fun and clever, and also it was cute), and he’d seemed plenty happy enough to respond then. Still, it felt like a much bigger step to DM him, to talk to him just one on one. But the more he read his posts, the more he thought about his-Richie and how he’d touched Eddie that night, the easier it was to convince himself to shoot his shot with this stranger.

Eddie just messaged him a simple, “hi,” with a heart emoji. It was innocent enough, but his heart was still racing.

Internet-Richie responded a lot faster than Eddie was expecting. Honestly he hadn’t been expecting a response at all. But he said:

hiya cutie (; ive been hoping youd message me

Eddie flushed. He couldn’t help but hear cutie in his-Richie’s voice—especially given how often Richie used the nickname. really? he typed back.

fuck yes, ur cute little messages make me so hard. i can tell ur a pretty little thing just from the way you type

Eddie was blushing deep. Pretty little thing. That was hotter than it should’ve been. He wanted his Richie to talk to him like that, in that deep, sleepy voice.

there’s no way you can tell that from some messages :P, Eddie sent.

His heart stopped at the next messages internet-Richie sent.

oh, u dont think so?

why dont u send me some pics to prove me wrong (;

Oh my god, Eddie thought, his breath coming short. His head swam at the thought of sending this guy nudes, of showing himself off to someone who clearly wanted to see him, who would know how to take care of him and fuck him the way he liked, a guy with his crush’s fucking name and body type and hands. It had Eddie’s cock hard and leaking, and he slowly slid a finger inside of himself.

But just because the thought turned him on didn’t mean he was gonna send this stranger what he wanted so easily, even if he desperately wanted to.

you’d like that, wouldn’t you?

He fingered himself open as he waited for a response, working his way up to two fingers. It was nearly impossible to ignore his cock, but he didn’t want to come before the conversation even had a chance to start.

fuck ya i would, internet-Richie responded. Then, in a second message, whats wrong baby? you shy? ill show u mine ;)

Eddie's breath caught. God, this guy even made stupid shit sound hot, just like Eddie’s Richie. This was unreal.

i’ve seen yours, Eddie pointed out.

ya and you musta liked it if ur messaging me rn

Eddie bit his lip. ...maybe

aw thats cute sweetheart. u know i can see all the needy little tags you add when u reblog my stuff right?

Eddie blushed. He’d kind of always hoped he’d read them, but he never thought he actually did. i didn’t know you read those

oh ya, read them, jerk off to them. bit of a size queen, aren’t you? ;) it’s cute. makes me so fuckn hard when u talk abt how u want me to fill you up

Eddie whimpered out loud, sliding a third finger into himself. Fuck, he wanted that cock inside of him so bad. But right now one of his toys would have to do, once he was stretched out enough. He sped up his fingers, getting impatient. Gathering up all of his horny courage, he sent, show me.

what, no please? only good boys who use their manners get dick pics babydoll

Eddie pouted and whined to himself, making quick work of sliding his hot pink vibrator inside of himself—well, as quickly as he could without hurting himself. He moaned as it filled him up, making pleasure spread deep through his body. Slowly pumping it in and out, he reached for his phone. please, he typed, please let me see? wanna know what to picture while i fuck myself with my vibrator. He even added the wide eyed pouting emoji to really milk the whole begging thing. He knew he’d been playing a little coy, but now with the way internet-Richie was talking to him he was getting desperate.

well fuck baby since ur begging ;)

Eddie held his breath as he waited for the picture, slowly rocking his toy in and out, savoring the feeling. He wished it was Richie doing it, wished it was his cock. The lines between which Richie blurred; he wanted to get fucked by either of them, both of them.

What Eddie received when his phone lit up was not a picture, but a video. It was short, just a few seconds of Richie’s hand dragging wetly, smoothly over his cock, but it had Eddie drooling. The room was dark, so he’d used a flash, and it made the mix of what Eddie assumed was precome and spit glisten as the swollen head of Richie’s cock disappeared and reappeared from behind his fingers. Eddie must’ve played it at least five times, fucking himself a little faster, before remembering to say something back. And to take a video of his own. fuck, I want you so bad, want you to fucking ruin me, he wrote back. A part of him couldn’t believe how openly desperate he was being, but he found that he liked it; he liked the way it made him blush, he liked the way it felt to beg, to ask for what he wanted.

Richie’s response came fast: show me kitten. show me how you want me to fuck your pretty little ass.

Eddie moaned at the pet name; casual little nicknames were such a weakness for him. He was already so far gone, just picturing Richie’s cock inside of him, picturing him stroking his cock to thoughts of Eddie. The attention had his cock hard and leaking as he thrust his vibrator even deeper inside of himself, pumping it in and out a few more times before rolling over and getting on his hands and knees. It was hard to take a video from this angle, but he wanted to show off his ass and hide his face. Plus, there was something so hot about having his ass in the air and his face shoved in his pillow, looking like the perfect image of someone desperate to be fucked. He loved the way it made him feel, loved the thought of being so open for someone. For Richie.

He ended up shooting a short video as well, about ten seconds of him sliding his vibrator slowly in and out of himself, letting out soft little moans. He was pretty pleased with the way it turned out, his hole pink and smooth and wet as it stretched around his toy. The angle was a little weird, showing a lot of his room once or twice when his hand slipped a little, but overall he thought his ass looked amazing, if he did say so himself. He sent it and said, feels so good. do you want me to go faster?

As he sent it, he got settled on his back, forcing himself to go slow as he fucked himself while he waited for internet-Richie’s response. It was taking longer than before, and Eddie was getting antsy; it was so hard to drag it out, to not get ahead of himself. But whatever Richie was doing, Eddie knew it would be worth the wait. Still, he pouted as his cock ached, begging for attention.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock at the door.

He groaned to himself and stayed put, fucking himself even slower as he waited for whoever it was to leave. But then the knocking continued, loud and incessant and obnoxious, and Eddie knew exactly who it was. He also knew he wasn’t going to go away any time soon, which honestly made him smile and blush. Richie had terrible timing, but Eddie would never be upset to see him.

Reluctantly, he slowly slid the toy out and pulled on his shorts, leaving his shirt off. He still had a pretty obvious boner, but his horny brain did not mind the idea of Richie seeing it. So he strode lazily down the hall, shouting a performatively annoyed, “I’m coming!” Finally, he opened the door, cocking his hip to the side and giving Richie an expectant look. “Can I help you?” he asked, a small smile dancing around the corner of his lips. He had to fight off a smirk at the wide eyed look Richie gave him as he ran his eyes over Eddie’s body.

“Fuck,” he muttered lowly, his eyes trained on Eddie’s cock, which was getting even harder the more Richie stared. Eddie bit his lip and grinned a little, making doe eyes at Richie. But Richie didn’t meet his gaze—instead he brushed past Eddie, his mouth still hanging open as he made his way urgently toward Eddie’s bedroom.

“Richie?” Eddie asked, a little let down that Richie’s hands weren’t all over him right now. But hey, if he was heading to Eddie’s bedroom he figured that was at least the right direction. He closed his front door and followed Richie into his room, where he found him staring at the bright pink vibrator on the bed. As confident and horny as Eddie was feeling, that still made him blush. He was only human. Crossing his arms, he said, bashful now, “I was kind of in the middle of something.”

Richie looked over at him, his cheeks bright red under his freckles. Then he got a glimmer of that trademark shit-eating grin on his face. “Eds, you fucking slut,” he said, sounding both delighted and breathless. “You are so fucking hot.”

Eddie flushed and tried not to squirm, but he couldn’t help but press his legs together, his eyes brightening. Fuck, was this actually happening? Shit, he needed to think of something witty to say. “You gonna do anything about it?” Okay, that kinda sounded like a corny porn, but he had to give himself credit for even being able to form words just after his lifelong crush and personal wet dream had just admitted his attraction to him.

“I think I already have been,” Richie said, still grinning.

Eddie cocked an eyebrow at him. He couldn’t help but smile back. “Oh yeah? How do you figure that?”

Eddie was expecting a confession. He was expecting something along the lines of you think I don’t notice how you look at me? or did you really think those were casual touches earlier? What he was not expecting was for Richie to unlock his phone and hold it up, showing Eddie the video he had just taken, the video he’d sent to internet-Richie.

Oh. Oh. Oh fuck.

“Oh my god, that’s you?” Eddie cried in disbelief.

“You’re telling me you didn’t recognize this dick?” Richie asked, swaggering over to Eddie, clearly enjoying himself.

“How did you recognize it was me?”

Richie nodded toward the Thundercats poster on Eddie’s wall, then to the model train that sat on his dresser. “What other guy has decor like that and the ass to match?”

Eddie grinned and shook his head. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Well pardon me for not being especially eloquent when I’ve just learned that the guy I’ve been masturbating to since I learned how to and been in love with for even longer has been masturbating to me too.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, all thoughts of getting fucked leaving for a moment. “You’re in love with me?” he asked, his voice as soft as his smile.

Richie was not a bashful person, but the little laugh he let out just then was close to it. “Have been my whole life, but thanks for finally noticing.”

Eddie shook his head and stepped closer, until he had to crane his head up to meet Richie’s gaze. “I love you too.”

Richie’s eyes widened behind his thick frames. Eddie had only seen that look in Richie’s eyes a few times before, but he never wanted to lose sight of it again. He always wanted Richie to look at him like that. But then Richie was closing his eyes and leaning down. It only took Eddie a second to get with the program, drinking in the moment just a little longer before letting his own eyes fall shut as he pressed his lips against Richie’s.

It started gentle enough, if deep and passionate and intentional. But then Richie’s hands were on Eddie’s bare waist, skin against skin, and Eddie was gasping into Richie’s mouth, his hands coming up and resting against Richie’s chest. He curled his fingers into Richie’s shirt as Richie ran his tongue over Eddie’s lips, just before pulling away. He laughed at Eddie’s indignant little whine.

“Oh, you mean you don’t want me to take off my shirt right now?” he smirked as Eddie tried to pull him closer by the offending fabric. Huffing, Eddie conceded and let go long enough to let Richie pull the shirt off over his head.

“Oh,” he said softly, his voice a little, awed moan as he drank in Richie’s chest. It wasn’t like Richie had never been shirtless in front of Eddie before, but Eddie had never felt like he was allowed to really look at Richie all those times. But now he could; now he could touch. And he did, running his fingers over Richie’s smooth, warm skin, over his acne scars and blackheads and freckles. “Fuck, Richie,” he sighed before pressing his lips to Richie’s collarbones, trailing them all over Richie’s beautiful chest.

Richie gave a breathless, almost shy laugh as he stroked Eddie’s hair. “Damn, Eds, never pegged you as a tits guy.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eddie giggled, bringing his lips back to Richie’s. They both smiled into it, getting lost for a moment as Richie’s hands slid slowly down Eddie’s sides. His hands lingered on Eddie’s hips for a moment before he slid them further down and grabbed at Eddie’s ass, making him gasp.

“Is that any way to talk to the guy who’s about to rail you ‘til you can’t walk?”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Eddie asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Spank me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Richie smirked. He gave Eddie’s ass a playful smack, making Eddie gasp again and fall into him, needing more. Richie’s voice was dripping with adoration as he purred, “Little brat,” and pulled Eddie against him, kissing him again. Eddie went with it easily and happily parted his lips to let Richie lick into his mouth. Richie had one hand gripping Eddie’s jaw and the other on his ass, touching him in a way that exuded a command Eddie was desperate to follow. God, Eddie knew Richie had big hands, but they felt huge on him like this. It was dizzyingly hot. And the way Richie’s tongue was teasing his had Eddie’s knees going weak. His dick was throbbing in his shorts, aching to finish what he’d started, what had been interrupted. When he thought about it all—about playing with himself for Richie, about the video Richie had sent him, about all those things Richie had said about filling Eddie up—he felt himself clench down on nothing, desperate to get fucked. Desperate to feel Richie’s cock so deep inside of him.

“Richie,” he whined into the kiss, pulling on Richie’s belt loops, “please.” He pressed himself urgently against Richie and rutted shamelessly against his thigh.

“Fuck, you’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” His voice was cocky and teasing, but there was an apparent undercurrent of wonder there as well.

Eddie shoved his face into Richie’s neck and whined, grabbing onto Richie’s wrists without even knowing what his goal was. “Richie,” he whimpered, sounding pitiful and ruined already.

“What do you want, baby?” Richie’s voice made it clear that he was enjoying seeing Eddie this wrecked, and that just made Eddie even harder. “Come on, tell me, use your words.”

Eddie squirmed as Richie held him close, but still not touching him in any relieving way. “I need you inside,” Eddie said, his voice high and soft as he squirmed in Richie’s grip. “God, please, Richie, need you to fuck me. Fuck me so hard I can’t even think. Fuck me like I’m your little toy.”

Eddie could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, and judging by the gasp he heard Richie let out, he’d caught Richie off guard too. But if the hard bulge in his jeans that brushed up against Eddie was any indication, he was apparently just as turned on as Eddie was. Besides, Eddie knew from his blog that Richie was really into that sort of thing too—and, apparently, really into the idea of doing those things with Eddie. The realization that Richie had been saying all those filthy things about him had him grinding against him with even more fervor, kissing his neck with a heated confidence. Richie moaned, and Eddie could feel the warmth of it spreading through him. “Yeah, sweetheart? You want to feel me inside you? You think you’re ready for me?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed, looking up at Richie with wide, desperate eyes. He shivered at the new look in Richie’s eyes, the blue nearly entirely eclipsed by how wide his pupils were. He looked hungry for Eddie; Eddie wanted to feel it. “‘M ready, Richie, please, so open for you.” He looked to the toy on his bed pointedly, but Richie only gave a deep laugh.

“Oh honey, that’s cute that you think that little thing is gonna have you ready for my cock.” Eddie’s breath caught; that toy wasn’t small. Before he could gather his scattered brain enough to react, Richie was scooping him up and tossing him on the bed, the toy falling forgotten to the floor. Richie moved Eddie onto his back, and Eddie went happily, pliantly. Richie’s fingers were cool against Eddie’s burning skin as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Eddie’s shorts, slowly dragging them over his hips and down his legs, tossing them to the floor. Eddie’s cock was dripping with precome, his chest flushed a bright red as he squirmed under Richie’s gaze. Eddie been dreaming of Richie manhandling him like this for he didn’t even know how long; he couldn’t help the way he reacted. And he especially couldn’t help the pleased little sound he made when Richie murmured, “God, you’re gorgeous, Eds.” Then Richie was grabbing him by the ankles, gently but firmly spreading Eddie’s legs, and Eddie let out the most pathetic, genuine moan he’d ever heard. “Fuck, baby, you sound pretty. You like when I spread you open?” Richie asked. He was smirking down at Eddie, but Eddie could see how flushed he was, could see the thrilled awe in his dark, hungry eyes as Eddie nodded.

“Richie, please,” Eddie whimpered. “I need you so bad.” He sat up, reaching for Richie’s belt, but Richie easily pressed him back against the mattress with a large hand on the center of his chest. The confidence in Richie’s dominance took Eddie’s breath away, and he stayed right where he was, nice and obedient, as he watched Richie get off the bed and slowly undo his belt, then his button and zipper. He took his time dragging his jeans and boxers off, enough time to let Eddie’s eyes linger on the reveal of the dark hair under Richie’s waistband. Then Richie’s cock was bouncing up against his stomach, hard and flushed and fucking long. Eddie moaned at the sight and fisted the sheets underneath him. He wanted so badly to get his mouth on Richie, to breathe him in and be nice and good for Richie on his knees. But he was also desperate to get fucked; his hole clenched down on nothing at the thought, and then it was all he could think about again. “Richie,” he repeated, whining now as he reached for him. “Stop being such a tease.”

Richie laughed as he moved easily out of Eddie’s grip and climbed on top of him. Eddie gasped softly at the sight of Richie above him, his dark curls surrounding his face, his full, pink lips pulled into the most beautiful smile Eddie had ever seen in his life. He ran his hands over Richie’s chest and sides, marveling at the fact that this was really happening. Then, his eyes flickering down, he tentatively brought his hand to Richie’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” they said, both at the same time, making them giggle together.

“Fuck, Eds, your pretty little hand looks so cute wrapped around my cock,” Richie teased in a low, rough voice. Eddie shivered; he couldn’t tell if Richie was praising him or degrading him, but either way it made his head fuzzy.

“‘M not that little,” Eddie grumbled out of habit. But he was clearly breathless. He’d never been good at pretending not to like Richie’s compliments, however teasing.

“Aw, but you are, baby,” Richie cooed, nuzzling his nose against Eddie’s and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “You’re so cute and tiny for me. I don’t even know if we’ll be able to fit my cock inside you.”

“I can,” Eddie whined, both indignant and impatient. He bucked his hips up, but Richie held him down. He gasped when he felt the warm, soft skin of Richie’s cock press against his stomach. Looking down, he saw that Richie had his cock lying on Eddie’s stomach, showing just how deep he would be once he was inside Eddie.

“You sure about that, babydoll?” While the teasing note was still there, Richie’s voice got noticeably softer as he said, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Eddie’s chest swelled at that. Cupping Richie’s face in his hands, he insisted, “I can take it.” Then he reached down and took Richie in his hand, glowing with pride when Richie let out a low moan. “Richie, please, I want you so bad.”

“Okay, baby,” Richie agreed, turning his head to kiss Eddie’s palm. “Fuck, I want you, too.” But he stalled. “Have you ever… like, been fucked before?”

Eddie flushed. “Well, not by someone else, but I have some toys. I’m not gonna break, Richie.” He huffed, but the way Richie was looking at him soothed any ruffled feathers.

“I’m your first?” His smile was soft, and while his eyes glittered, there was nothing teasing about his tone.

“I didn’t wanna do it with anyone else,” Eddie mumbled. He tried to look away, but Richie pulled him into a kiss.

“Fuck, I never thought you’d want me,” he chuckled. “Sorry, that was depressing, I just mean I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner, you know?”

Eddie beamed, a small, giddy giggle dancing on his lips. “Well it’ll happen sooner if you stop talking so much.” But his smile, and all of the little kisses he planted on Richie’s freckled shoulders told Richie that Eddie never wanted him to stop talking.

“Alright, alright, sheesh, I know I’m hot but you don’t gotta rush me.” Eddie was still giggling when Richie kissed him, and he could feel that Richie was smiling too. “Where’s your lube?”

Eddie stretched his hand out and patted the bed for a moment, searching. After what was probably only four seconds but felt like an eternity, he finally found the bottle and handed it eagerly to Richie. “Oh, right,” Richie smirked, “you’re already wet for me, aren’t you?” Eddie moaned as Richie swiped his fingers over Eddie’s slick hole, pressing in just a bit. His fingers went in easily, and he pumped them slowly, drawing little, breathy moans out of Eddie. Richie’s fingers were a lot longer and thicker than his own, and they felt amazing, but they weren’t what he wanted in that moment.

“Richie, fuck me,” he whined.

“Aw, no please? Again?” Richie tsked and shook his head, curling his fingers against Eddie’s prostate, making him cry out. “I told you, sweetheart, only good boys who use their manners get fucked.”

“Please,” Eddie cried. He rocked his hips and grabbed at Richie’s shoulders, at his arms, not even sure what his goal was there other than to get Richie closer, to get his attention, to show him how desperate he was. “Please fuck me, please.” He sounded pathetic begging like this, but that just made him harder. And it made Richie’s pupils even wider as he slid his fingers out of Eddie and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Good boy,” he purred. Eddie moaned and arched into Richie’s touch, but he only gave Eddie one more kiss on his cheek before pulling back and covering his cock in lube. Eddie watched, entranced, as Richie’s hand moved smoothly over his cock, glistening and slick. Then Richie was gently spreading Eddie’s legs even further and pressing the head of his cock against Eddie’s hole.

“Yes,” Eddie whimpered brokenly, grasping at the sheets beneath him. “Richie, please.” Meeting his gaze, he said softly, “I need you.”

“I’ve got you,” Richie assured him in a voice that made Eddie feel like he was glowing. Richie took Eddie’s hand in his and entwined their fingers, using his other hand to guide his cock inside of Eddie, who gasped at the feeling. God, he couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe his first time was going to be with his favorite person. He couldn’t believe he was finally getting exactly what he wanted. Love flooded through him, warm and perfect, somehow both soothing and electrifying as he watched Richie’s face. Eddie’s mouth dropped as Richie pressed into him, deeper and deeper and still fucking deeper, until finally Richie let out a low moan and Eddie felt absolutely breathless. The stretch was intense, and he held onto Richie tightly as he caught his breath. “Are you alright?” Richie asked. His voice was strained, but the care and concern in it was clear. “You don’t have to take all of it if it’s too much.”

Eddie wanted to laugh at the remark or roll his eyes, but with how breathless and dizzied by pleasure he already was, he had to admit Richie had a point. “Just need a minute,” he gasped. Richie ran a soothing hand over Eddie’s skin, helping him even out his breathing and relax. The feeling of Richie’s cock twitching in anticipation inside of him had him letting out little moans as he adjusted, getting more and more used to the feeling until he felt comfortable enough to tell Richie he could move. Richie kissed him before he did, his lips soft against Eddie’s, a reassuring weight. Eddie breathed in sharply as Richie pulled back, grabbing at Richie’s shoulders.

Richie immediately stopped. “You okay, baby?” he asked, caressing Eddie’s face.

Eddie wanted to melt. Richie was always touching him, always jokingly flirting with him, but this unabashed concern and, well, love had previously been reserved for dire situations, like panic attacks or injuries. Eddie couldn’t help the dopey smile that bloomed on his face as he tilted his chin up and kissed Richie. “I’m okay,” he said breathlessly. “It’s just a little different from my vibrator.” They both gave a shaky laugh as Richie nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“Better, I hope?” he grinned.

“Can’t tell yet,” Eddie retorted. Another snarky comment was on the tip of his tongue when Richie pulled his hips further back, effectively sucking all the air—and attitude—from Eddie’s chest. And then Richie was pushing back in, and Eddie let out a moan he couldn’t have faked if he tried, relaxing back into the mattress as his eyes fell shut. It was the best thing he’d ever felt, pleasure and relief flooding through his body. They’d been building up this tension for years; Eddie had figured it would feel good to break it, but it really felt magical, like something had just clicked into place. Feeling Richie inside of him, rocking his hips carefully, feeling Richie twitch as he tried not to lose control had Eddie’s head reeling. Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on Richie above him, on how flushed his face was. When Richie met his eye, pressing in deep, Eddie let out a small, “Fuck.”

“Yeah? Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

Richie was smirking as he said it, but there was something else sparkling in his eyes. Something giddy and awed. Something that made Eddie sigh dreamily, “I love you.”

Richie’s eyes widened for a moment before he pressed his lips firmly against Eddie’s, his hands roaming over Eddie’s body like he couldn’t choose where to put them, where to touch him. “I love you so much,” he beamed, pressing a few more kisses to Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie giggled at the feeling, but then Richie’s hips moved just a little faster, pressing him in just a little deeper, and he was back to melting under Richie’s touch, clinging to him as he rocked his hips with Richie’s. “Fuck, you’re so amazing, baby, so fucking beautiful. You look so good like this, holy shit.”

Eddie smiled almost drunkenly at Richie’s ability to ramble even when blowing Eddie’s mind. “Feels so good,” he moaned, his voice breathy and just a little bit higher than normal. He wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist. “Please, Richie, please.”

“Fuck, baby, wanna make you feel like this all the fucking time,” Richie groaned as he picked up the pace. Eddie whined in pleasure at the change, and that just spurred Richie to go faster, harder, until he was well and truly fucking Eddie, both of them moaning with every thrust.

“Oh my god,” Eddie cried, “ohmygodohmygodhmygod, oh fuck, Richie, please.” It felt so amazing, Richie fucking into him like this, but he needed that little bit more. His cock was throbbing desperately, achingly hard; he needed to feel Richie’s hand on him. “Richie, please,” he whimpered, “please, please touch me. I need you, I need you so bad, please, Richie.” Eddie was pouting now, grabbing aimlessly at Richie, his legs still wrapped tight around him.

“Fuck, you’re so hard for me,” Richie marveled, his voice sweet and condescending as he wrapped his hand around Eddie’s cock. Eddie nearly screamed at the contact, his back arching off the bed. Richie laughed a little, which just made Eddie even harder. The way Richie spread his precome over his cock, twisting his wrist just so as he stroked him had that familiar tension coiling in his lower stomach. “Aw, does that feel good? You gonna come on my cock, kitten?”

“Fuck, yes!” Eddie screamed. He gripped at the sheets as Richie stroked him, his voice washing over Eddie, mixing with the pleasure of Richie’s touch, of his thrusts. “Yes, yes, yes, please let me come, please, please, please.”

“That’s a good boy,” Richie purred, and Eddie could feel himself tipping over the edge at the words, at how low and affected Richie’s voice was. He groaned out, “Come on my cock like a good boy, princess,” and pure pleasure crashed over Eddie like a wave. He arched his back and cried out as he came, his moans filling the room as he squirmed under Richie, grabbed at him, at the sheets. It was fucking ethereal. He felt somehow so in tune with his body and yet so detached, like he was floating. He was barely cognizant of what Richie was saying, but when he put the sounds together and realized Richie had just said, panting, “Fuck, baby, gonna come,” Eddie felt like a live wire again.

“In me,” he said urgently. His mind was still a little too scattered for full sentences, but he knew what he wanted. God, he felt like he needed it. Like he needed to feel that connected to Richie. “Richie, come inside me, please.”

Richie apparently didn’t need to be told twice; he let out a moaned, “Oh, fuck,” before burying his face in Eddie’s neck, his breathy moans like music in Eddie’s ear. And then, as Eddie was coming down from his own high, he felt the holiest thing in the world: Richie’s cock, twitching inside of him, then his warm come filling Eddie up. It was unreal, being this close to him. Richie clutching at him as he came. It was even better than the little fantasies Eddie occasionally allowed himself. Richie was here, in his arms, pressing kisses to his neck as he caught his breath. Eddie was stroking his hair and rubbing his back as Richie nuzzled into him. Richie’s skin pressed against his skin, his legs wrapped around Richie’s waist, then falling to his sides, but still pressed to him. Still keeping him close. There wasn’t a single thought in his head that wasn’t about Richie.

Richie pulled him from his dreamy haze with light kisses pressed up his jaw, then over his cheeks. Eddie giggled at the onslaught of affection, still reeling from how fucking hot and euphoric what they had just done together had been. But he happily accepted Richie’s kisses, his heart bursting, then racing as Richie pulled back to look in his eyes. “Holy, fuck,” Richie beamed, his face flushed and blue eyes hooded from the weight of his orgasm, even as they sparkled.

“I know,” Eddie said, returning Richie’s grin as he basked in the surreality of having Richie on top of him, his dorky yet charming smile framed by lips that were red and swollen because of Eddie. His glasses were knocked askew, and Eddie instinctively reached up to fix them. With a sense of wonder, he realized that his touch was allowed to linger this time. He ran his fingers down Richie’s cheekbones, over his jaw, cupped his cheeks. “I love you,” he said. The words spilled out over his lips like he couldn’t stand not to say them. And while it made his heart race a little to say it out loud now that the adrenaline and tension was all worked through, it felt even better this time when Richie’s face softened and he nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“I love you so fucking much.” Richie’s voice rarely got that soft, that sincere; it felt like a blanket wrapping around Eddie. It felt safe, secure. It felt like a promise. And if there was anyone in the world Eddie knew he could trust, it was Richie. That feeling of everything coming together came back to Eddie as he lay there under Richie, their lips moving together, feeling light as a feather now that everything was finally out in the open.

#reddie #notsfw #reddie smut #reddie fic

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spencerspecifics · 4 years ago

Note

HI HI HI PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WRITE MOREID AT PRIDE AND SOME PINING AND SPENCER THINKS DEREK IS STRAIGHT BUT HE ISN'T AND THEY KIIIITTTTTHHHHH

I absolutely love your energy fuck yes!! I’m so sorry this took forever, ive got school, work and some other personal things happening so I appreciate your patience!

No TW, B u t, a creep hits on Spencer at pride, so if that is upsetting please note that! Thanks :)

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Pride

———————————————————————

Garcia had been pestering Spencer about going to pride for the past week now, and it was slowly driving him insane.

He used almost every excuse he could think of. When he first turned her down, he had simply said, “Sorry, I’m going to be busy that week.” And of course, Garcia being Garcia, she stole his calendar to see what he was busy with (spoiler alert: he had nothing. Except a reminder to go grocery shopping, and email some professors and research scientists back).

So, she persisted, and he came up with a dozen more excuses; “I was considering flying out to see my mom”, “The local museum has a new interactive archeology exhibit for adults, and I want to learn more about ancient structures”, “I have to do a presentation on thermodynamics”.

None of those excuses work, as she sniffed out every lie, “Spencer, you hate flying to Vegas last minute, that archaeology exhibit has been open for months, and your calendar is empty!”

So with her persistence, and legitimate bullying, Spencer found himself finally agreeing. “Fine, but come over to my apartment before we leave so you can help me.” After all, he wasn’t really familiar with pride parades, and what the scene was like there. He was going to be a fish out of water, he already knew that for certain.

True to her word, Garcia showed up an hour before the pride parade was set to start, carrying a coffee in each hand- how she possibly knocked on his apartment door, Spencer didn’t know.

“I brought you a pick me up, that way you have no excuse to be in a bad mood!” She spoke in her signature sing song voice as Spencer let her inside, she barreled in like a hurricane. God, Spencer wasn’t ready for this.

“Thanks..” Spencer decided to reply with that lame response, and not with what he was actually thinking. He took the coffee from her wordlessly as she stepped in further, going to sit down on his couch.

“You excited?” Garcia asked as she set her cup down on his cluttered coffee table. Reid just shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t do great with crowds.”

“But you do great with disarming murderers?” “You know that’s different-” Spencer said, doing his best to argue, “Reid it is literally not. Both are anxiety inducing, but one is life or death, and it’s not pride. So you can do this.”

Spencer sighed, resigning himself to not arguing with Garcia. Because she was right, though at times her arguments sounded wild. He just had to get over this anxiety and show up at pride, he could do this, right?

Wrong. So, very, wrong. They had left his apartment with thirty minutes to spare, deciding to walk over to where pride was being held- as it was only a few blocks away in a public park.

And as soon as they got there, Spencer wanted out. There were so many people, more than he estimated (and his estimations were usually spot on.), and there was just chaos everywhere. Music, dancing, shouting, singing, drag queens running around happily. Spencer wasn’t sure what to do. He was out of his element.

Garcia seemed to sense that, though, as she dragged Spencer over to some stalls that sold pride flags, pins, and other miscellaneous pride related things.

“C’mon Reid, why don’t you look around and find something you like?” She offered up, something for him to do- something for him to stay busy with. He could do that. Spencer nodded simply, Garcia stayed by his side- looking at pride related wear for herself.

Spencer ended up deciding on a small pin that simply said; “love all”, planning to stick it on his messenger bag strap. Garcia bought a pin as well, but hers just had her pronouns on them; “she/her/hers”.

Looking at all the pride apparel was a good distraction for Spencer, he felt a lot more calmer now- though that didn’t stop him from feeling like he stuck out like a sore thumb. He’s just not familiar with this world, and it’s awkward to suddenly be in the middle of it.

Spencer was in the middle of looking at another booth that sold flags, possibly considering buying himself a small one to stick in his pencil cup at work, because Garcia left him to go compliment a drag queen- when a voice broke through.

“Hey, pretty boy!”

That was a voice all too familiar, what on earth was Morgan doing here? Spencer looked up at him as he made his way towards him. “Hey,” Spencer spoke awkwardly. Not sure what to say.

Spencer was gay. He was fine with admitting he was gay, but he hadn’t really told the team. He thought they figured it out on their own. And they probably had, but still, having his coworker see him at a pride event- it was anxiety inducing.

“What’re- what’re you doing here?” Spencer asked, stumbling over his words as he dropped the small flag he was holding back onto the vendors table.

“Oh, well I’m on the local PFLAG committee. I’m just here to hand out flyers and stuff. But I’m glad to see you’re here, I’m guessing Garcia’s here too?” He asked Spencer casually, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Spencer.

He was on the PFLAG committee? Why? To help queer people, obviously, but that had to mean he was gay or something- Spencer couldn’t stop his mind from coming up with every possible answer to why Derek was on the committee.

Spencer just nodded in response, he moved himself back from the vendors table to get out of the way, so other customers could look at the flags being sold.

“Yeah, she’s- there.” Reid pointed her out, as if on cue she came out of the thick crowd that had started to gather back up, the parade portion of pride had concluded by now, and people were coming over to the vendors section.

“Hey, Babygirl!” Derek called over to her, and Garcia somehow lit up with a smile brighter than the one she was wearing before, “Well, hey!” She responded enthusiastically, walking up swiftly to give Derek a quick embrace, which he happily returned.

“I wasn’t sure how long you were staying for, but I’m glad I caught you!” Garcia started rambling to Derek, about how the drag queen she met was so nice; “Her name was Mysteria Hysteria. Isn’t that genius?”.

Spencer just stepped back from them both, not sure what to do, not sure if he fully belonged. Pride was a nice event, it was. But the longer he stood around, the more he felt like he should be leaving. Everyone was laughing and smiling, everyone was just happy. And Spencer couldn’t stop racking his brain. In the beginning, he couldn’t stop thinking because of his anxiety, but now he was searching his brain for a reason why Derek was here and what it meant.

Of course, a stupid large portion of Spencer’s mind went to “maybe Morgan likes men”, and then an even larger and stupider portion of his mind had the absurdity to think; “maybe he’s interested in me”. Which Spencer did not even want to remotely entertain, because if he fell down that rabbit hole, he’d never climb back out.

Because yes, he did like Derek. He liked him a lot, the start for his liking towards the man was innocuous enough- which is why it was a problem for Spencer. He didn’t realized he liked Morgan until it was too late. And now he had been battling these feelings for years. Spencer wasn’t ever going to act on them, he just had to live with them- which he had been doing, which he has been content with. But this new information, about Morgan being here, being part of PFLAG- it was going to make Reid’s mind implode in on itself.

Reid decided the best thing was to say; “I’m gonna get some water, I’ll be back.” To which Derek and Garcia both nodded to, and Spencer was off, away from the vendors stand and the only two people he knew at pride.

And while that was a good thing, it was simultaneously not so good. Because now he was alone, overwhelmed, and thinking too much. And now he had a task to do, find himself some water.

That task seemed to be more difficult than anticipated, as the prides layout was a confusing maze, spencer had to pass in front of a group of drag queens in order to get to the food trucks that were on site- but he eventually got there.

He walked up to the first food truck he saw, it didn’t matter what they sold, he wasn’t getting it.

“What can I get for you?” The cashier asked him, “Just a water, please.” He ordered, the cashier nodded and pulled a bottle out from a cooler that was nearby within the truck, handing it over to spencer as they told him his total, a dollar twenty five. Spencer paid quickly, stepping back and away from the food truck, as he wasn’t sure where else to go now. He didn’t want to go back towards Derek or Garcia, he honestly wanted to go home.

He just needed a minute, some space and time to breathe and relax. He was stressing himself out. And about what? Nothing of goddamn importance, just a stupid crush he had been living with for a while now.

Spencer had been leaning against the back the food truck for not long, only a couple of minutes as he was absorbed in thought as he fiddled with the cap on the water bottle.

He was doing his best to follow the grounding techniques he had learned, something to help him calm down, when suddenly- a stranger emerged out of the crowd.

“Hey there, handsome.” The man said confidently as he strode up to introduce himself Spencer. Spencer looked up to meet his eyes, the man in question was a fine looking guy, chiseled jawline, long shoulder length hair, a bit of facial stubble. He was handsome. “Hello,” Spencer answered hollowly in response. In an ordinary situation, he would try and seem more lively- but he wasn’t in a normal situation, not at all.

The anxiety of attending pride was stress enough on its own, but now knowing the guy he had been drooling over for years was here- and worked as a PFLAG volunteer? It was enough to make him lose his mind.

The man didn’t seem to notice Spencer’s empty response, however, as he answered suavely in response; “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the way. I’m Fabian,” Thankfully, the man- Fabian, didn’t stick his hand out for a handshake, instead casually pushing his hair back a bit.

“I’m Spencer,” Reid replied simply, knowing it was best to ride this odd social interaction out, rather than try and fight it. “That’s a lovely name,” Fabian complimented, “Is this your first time at pride, Spencer?” He asked him casually, taking a step forward, closer to Spencer. He was all too confident for Spencer, he too comfortable with invading Spencer’s space. If Spencer could’ve, he would’ve stepped back.

“Uh, yeah. My friend dragged me along.” Reid explained, twisting the bottle cap back onto his half empty water bottle. Fabian nodded, “Your boyfriend didn’t take you?” Fabian asked him. That was a leading question, Spencer had alarm bells ringing in his head the second he heard it. “No. He- um- he met up with us here.” Spencer replied unconvincingly, Fabian obviously did not believe a word he said.

“Well,” Fabian took another step forward, practically blocking Reid in against the back of the food truck, leaning in farther to whisper in Spencer’s ear; “I don’t see him around. So, why don’t you and I get out of here? Hm?”

Spencer wasn’t sure of what to do. He wanted to kick this guy in the crotch and just book it, but he wasn’t sure if his FBI status would protect him in this scenario. He wasn’t sure what could protect him in this scenario.

“Pretty boy! There you are!” A saving grace broke through, and suddenly Fabian was stepping back, and Morgan was walking up.

Thank god, thank fucking god, that’s all Spencer could manage to think as Derek came to stand beside him. “Hey, babe.” Spencer said, cringing at his voice, at what he just said. But that feeling only lasted for a moment as Fabian was still standing right there, staring them both down now.

Spencer could only throw his wish in the sky and hope Derek caught it coming down, ‘please catch along to why I’m calling you babe’ Reid was trying to say.

And Derek caught it, “Hey, baby, was worried about you. Who’s your friend?” He said in his smooth voice, a voice Spencer couldn’t forget. He especially couldn’t forget now, being called ‘baby’ was something Spencer especially could not forget.

“I’m Fabian, you’re Spencer’s boyfriend?” Fabian asked, as if them both calling each other ‘babe’ counted for nothing. “Yeah, I’m Derek.” Morgan responded simply, sliding his hand around Spencer’s waist as if to prove a point. Fabian just nodded, looking between Spencer and Derek one last time before talking; “Well, it was nice to meet you, I’ve gotta get going. See you.”

And then, he was off, fast walking away from Derek and Reid, escaping the terrible situation he had created. Fabian quickly disappeared into the thick crowd, and by then Spencer had his hand squeezing his water bottle all too tightly- as evident by the terrible crunch sound it made. He was too anxious to let go.

“Hey, are you okay?” Derek asked him softly, pulling his hand away from Spencer’s waist. “Can we find somewhere else- can we go sit down?” Spencer asked him quickly. Reid didn’t want to talk about it right this second, right where it had happened. He wanted to leave, he wanted to leave pride and never come back.

Derek didn’t ask a single follow up question as he led Reid away from the food trucks, taking him back towards the vendors stands, and then a bit further back, into the normal-not-so-pride-parade-filled park area. Somewhere less stressful, less scary.

“What did that guy want?” Derek asked Spencer casually as they made their way towards a bench that was sat under a large oak tree. Spencer didn’t speak right away, instead he waited until they were seated to start talking.

“He was trying to flirt, but then he wanted me to leave with him.” Spencer explained as he took a deep breath in, just being away from all the loud sounds and sights was helping him calm down. Derek rubbed Spencer’s back in slow, circular motions as Spencer kept talking.

“He was a classic example of a narcissistic personality, it just made me so uncomfortable- he invaded my space.”

“He was a creep, Reid. Simple as that,” Derek kept rubbing Spencer’s back slowly, Spencer nodded. “I know. Sorry, it shook me up.” Spencer attempted to apologized, and Derek was immediately having none of that.

“Reid, no. Don’t apologize for that, don’t you dare. He was a creep, I’m sorry you got caught up with him. It’s okay if you’re shaken up. We can stay here until you feel up to going back, or we can leave. But I’m not leaving you.”

And so they sat for a good amount of time on that park bench, at one point Derek stopped rubbing Spencer’s back, instead just keeping his arm stretched out against the back of the bench and against Spencer’s back. Spencer loved it, but he knew if he thought about it for too long he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking. That was his biggest problem, he couldn’t stop thinking.

He had to know, he decided, he couldn’t just wonder why Derek was on the committee for PFLAG. He wanted to know, he had to.

“Derek?” He spoke up softly, sounds of laughing and shouting and music were still heard in the distance, but they were safe from the sounds under the tree. “Mhm?” Derek hummed in response, looking up at the aforementioned tree that was providing shade for them.

His eyes were tracing the way the branches curved and bent around each other, it was something he did to pass the time. Spencer thought he was extraordinary for it, Derek loved to see where things went; he was curious- after all these years, and all the bad they had seen together, Derek still loved to search and find the beauty.

“Why are you on the PFLAG committee ?” Spencer asked him, it was thankfully an innocuous enough ask to not draw too much of Derek profilings side out to pry apart his question. Derek shrugged, and was quiet for a second before responding, “I know what it’s like to be a scared kid, unsure of his identity. If I can help someone through that, that’s all that matters. Same reason I’m in the BAU, to help people.”

Spencer stayed quiet, Derek’s reason was so sincere and so sweet and kind- and only driving him to think further. Was Derek still unsure of his identity? Was he an ally? Why did he have to make Spencer swoon so hard without even trying?

“So, you’re just an ally?” Spencer approached Derek carefully with that question, not wanting to impose or be rude- but just feign simple curiosity, praying Derek wasn’t using his profiling skills right now to decode Spencer’s fake motive.

Derek didn’t notice, thankfully, as he chuckled lowly in response; “No, pretty boy, I’m bisexual. I don’t really tell the team, but it’s not confidential information. Plus, Garcia found Grindr on my phone. Can’t hide anything from that girl.”

Spencer nodded, mumbling something in response about how Garcia had hacked his email to make sure he was free for pride. And then, the two fell into silence again. But it didn’t last for long, because Derek wanted to know just as much, why was Spencer here?

“What about you, Reid?” Derek asked him cautiously, the way you approach a puppy you find on the side of the road. Calm and slow, trying to get him to trust him bit by bit. “What about me?” Spencer asked, not wanting to answer anything about himself unless Derek was specific.

“Are you an ally?” Morgan asked him, leaving the question open ended. Spencer could say as little or as much as he wanted. This is how you get him to open up, Derek knew that for a fact. “Um.. yeah, I mean- who isn’t? I just- I have to be. I’m.. gay.” Spencer admitted all too awkwardly, not at all in a normal fashion. But nothing about Spencer was in normal fashion.

Derek nodded slowly, not responding as he stared back up, tracing his eyes over the tree branches yet again.

A few hours had passed, Spencer and Derek eventually left their peaceful bench under the large oak tree, and instead moved back towards the parking lot.

“Garcia’s got a ride home already- I think she got that drag queen to get her home.” Derek explained as they approached his truck, Spencer nodded as he followed Derek. “Anyways,” Derek continued speaking, “I can give you a ride home. Let’s get going.”

“You don’t have to-“ Spencer started, Derek immediately shut him down. “I want to, c’mon. It’s late, you’re tired. I know you are. Let me take you home.” Spencer just nodded in agreement, he couldn’t argue with Derek, even if he did try. Morgan was a stubborn man.

So, Spencer followed Derek into his truck, and they sat in comfortable silence as they started on their journey back to Spencer’s safe space, his apartment.

By the time Derek pulled his truck into the apartments parking lot, Spencer knew something was just the slightest bit wrong. Derek had barely spoken for the entire ride, and usually he loves to say something, to make Spencer smile or laugh, or even just nod and mumble in agreement. But he had done none of that on the way to Spencers.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, turning to face Derek as he put the vehicle in park. Derek didn’t meet his eyes, staring at the steering wheel instead as he spoke; “Yeah. Sorry. I’m just thinking.”

“About what?” Spencer pried, absentmindedly unbuckling his seatbelt as he spoke, “About today.” Derek said, not explaining further. “Was today bad?”

Derek shook his head, “No. It started weird, it’s ending pretty good, though. But I’m gonna regret today forever if I don’t do something right now.”

Now, Spencer was confused. Not sure at all what Derek could be talking about, “What do you mean?” He asked, voice quieter than before.

Derek said nothing as he unbuckled his own seatbelt, turning to face Spencer as well, and then he leaned in- closer than they had ever been before. Their noses were almost touching, and Spencer didn’t move. Instead, he watched Derek’s eyes expectantly.

Then, Derek broke through, they were no longer intersecting each other’s personal space- now they were fully destroying each other’s atmospheres. Derek’s lips were on Spencer’s, a chaste, soft, quick kiss- something Spencer would have wanted to go for a lot longer. But then, he pulled away just as fast.

“...That’s what I meant..” He mumbled after a second, looking back towards the steering wheel, looking away from Spencer- and more importantly, not seeing the smile on Spencer’s face.

Spencer couldn’t help it. He knew it was terrible to be smiling right now- he should jump and say something to fix what was happening. But he had to smile, he couldn’t believe that had actually just happened, his brain was still computing and re-circuiting, trying to savor the memory and not forget how Derek’s lips felt against his.

Spencer dragged himself out of his own head quickly, though. He did all he could think of to do in the moment, get Derek back. “Morgan.” Spencer said, tugging on Derek’s sleeve as he did so, forcing him to look back at Spencer and meet his eyes again.

But Spencer didn’t say anything, and he didn’t give Derek the chance to speak, either. Instead, he leant forward, pressing his lips against Derek’s. This is all he had wanted to know for the longest time, and now he had it.

Maybe pride wasn’t so bad after all, you just have to be with the right people for it to work out.

———————————————————————

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wichitalk · 2 years ago

Text

hello welcome to my first c/w fic i am putting on the internet. this is like the first time ive put writing on the internet since like... early 2021 when i stopped using ao3 so be patient here lol i do not know what im doing

@ghostdragoncookieokie :333 i hope u enjoy!!!

here is my c/w masterpost for those unfamiliar!!

casper is like 18~ maybe 18 1/2 in this part of the story, post c/w running away

tws: panic attack, implied mania (outside character), suicide mention????? its a joke in the story LMAO

Tears filled Casper’s eyes as he rounded corner after corner after corner of the empty building, not knowing were he was going (did he ever now?) but needing the movement anyway.

Will’s brain was going off again, as it frequently did nowadays. It was like it was metaphorically soaked in gasoline, and everyone around them seemed to carry and endless supply of matches. Any word or action or movement had the capacity to set him off, which did not strike him into common favor (could casper even blame them? Casper didn’t think there was a single thing that could make him dislike Will).

For the first time in what must have been years Will’s brain had turned on Casper, and he was everything but aggressive with the other man every encounter they had. Will’s guard was up, Casper knew him too well to not notice that, and the tone he used was flat and sharp at the edges, a far cry from Will’s normal soft and sparky voice Casper knew better than his own.

He shouldn’t be upset about this, he didn’t even think he had the right to be upset about this. It wasn’t Will’s fault, (none of this was Will’s fault.), but it was hard to deny the pain that Will’s fear towards Casper had caused.

Casper sharply turned yet another corner, walking faster than he reasonably should when his eyes are filled with tears and he is clearly not in his proper state of mind. His thoughts about Will screeched to a halt, however, when he came crashing into someone. The only thing Casper noticed as him and the other man toppled to the hard tile floor is that he was very small compared to Casper (probably in general? Casper did not think of himself as that tall but his perspective may be biased, as Will was almost freakishly tall).

The man yelped and scrambled away from Casper, boots slipping and squeaking on the ground. Casper also gasped in surprise, but he just let himself fall naturally. When he got his bearings he looked over at the other man, who had an unreadable expression on his face. He tried to match a name to the mans very unique appearance. The mismatched cat ears, pink and black hair, one goat eye, one cat eye, and large butterfly wings. Casper was positive there should be a name Casper remembers to match to the man. But they had likely met long ago, months or possibly over a year.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” As the man spoke, Casper finally clicked a name into place. This was Juicebox, he had met Casper and Will when they first came to the city, and joined their small group of people.

“No I’m sorry, it’s uh, it’s really my fault. I should have been looking where I was going.” Casper mumbled. He was only half sure he even said the words at all, they felt scrambled coming out.

Casper reached up to his face, violently rubbing his eyes in an attempt to dissipate the red wetness that made his predicament all but evident.

“It’s Casper, right?”

“Uhm, yeah. Juice?”

Juice nodded. “Are… are you alright?”

Casper paused. The very obvious answer was no, I am not doing alright. Someone who means everything to me is spiraling in ways I never expected and I don’t know how to possibly deal with it or help him or help myself or help anyone. But he didn’t know Juice well enough to say that, he wouldn’t even tell Will that. So he would have to lie, he knew. He also knew he didn’t know Juice well enough to lie well.

“Yeah I’m alright.” Simple, easy, the words rolled right off his tongue.

“Sorry… but you really don’t seem alright.”

Casper says nothing to that. I mean, what is there to say. He’s right. He doesn’t seem alright, he is not alright. He keeps his face neutral, hopefully.

Juice speaks again. “You’re like… shaking. Pretty violently.”

“Uh. Yeah I do that sometimes. It’s fine.” Jesus, what an incredibly stupid thing to say. Right, sure, he just shakes and cries sometimes while pacing around abandoned halls. Seems like a normal thing to do.

“Uhm, okay. Maybe you should get that checked out?” Juice was very clearly confused (worried?).

Casper wanted to kill himself.

“Erm, yeah. Maybe. I’m going to, I’m going to go. Sorry again.”

Before Juice could press the issue further, Casper hurriedly rose to his feet, almost falling over in the process. Juice noticed that he looked incredibly unstable while upright, looking like even the slightest breeze could completely crumple him. (Good thing they are inside, Juice supposes.) Casper begins walking very quickly away from Juice, hands shoved violently in his pockets and body hunched over.

Juice sincerely hopes he does not have the misfortune to trip, with his hands in his pockets that would suck a lot, and it seems he is going through enough as is without also having to cope with a broken nose. Hopefully, Juice will see him around again soon, and maybe next time Juice could do something to help. Casper hoped for almost the direct opposite.

#wilbur.txt #c/w #oc #original character #oirginal writing #writer

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gureishi · 4 years ago

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dude okay so this is kinda specific and also probably not very original or anything ekdbsisj

but-

how do you think saeyoung would react/feel if (during the apartment days), his MC started crying (or almost) after that one (or maybe two? cant remember, and im only halfway through day 7 on the current playthroygh) time where he just... got really mad n yelled... hhh his expression was scary,,

getting yelled out is already a lil agitating for me... and I know i would be automatically already a lil sensitive cos i would be nervous from the last few days (rsd would nerf me) -- meaning i would be a lil more emotional/easily affected than usual ;;;

on top of that ive never had a guy yell at me djvdjdj so it would be a lil scary, i wont lie.

wanna clarify: the crying wouldn't be on purpose lol, i would definitely try n hide it. easier said then done though... OTL

jsvfsh this is so long n specific n kinda personal to me?? im sure im not alone regarding the general idea though. anyways jdbdjs sorry lolol-

and im jus asking for your thoughts or maybe HCs? whichever you feel works best!

also sorry if we've talked about this before i have a bad memory-

[417]

btw ur amazing love u

Love you too dear Four! And oh boy do I relate to this. I do not handle being yelled at well and would, without a doubt, cry multiple times in this scenario (/ω＼)

Saeyoung reacting to his MC crying in the apartment

He’s never felt like this before. He sort of thought he’d been through it all: wrung every last bit of love and fear and desperation out of himself till there was nothing left but the things that make him useful: his clever hands and his brilliant (weary) mind.

When you speak to him so tenderly—hovering just at the edge of his space, eyes full of something he can’t (won’t) identify—he feels like his heart is too big for his body, and he can’t think straight, or see straight, or make his miserable mind form the words he needs to say to you.

He’s angry because he can’t understand why you’re gazing at him that way, like you’d do anything to ease the pounding in his skull; he’s angry because none of his words are getting through to you, and he doesn’t know how to make you understand that he’s not the person he made you believe he was. And he is angry because he knows, without a doubt, that he’s in far too deep already, and that if anything were to happen to you now, his desperate heart would break for good.

He knows how to lie (it is, in his opinion, the only real skill he has)—so he does. He tells you he wishes you’d leave him alone—tells you to stay away—tells you he feels nothing for you at all. He raises his voice (but oh, as the stinging words tear from his throat his heart wants to crawl out of his skin and throw itself into your arms).

You say nothing. Good, he thinks; and he forces his attention back to his screen (eyes blurry, hands shaking). He hears the sound of your footsteps as you retreat to the farthest corner of the apartment, and something inside him seems to go with you—since the very first time he heard your voice, he thinks, a part of him is always with you. With every day that goes by, that part gets bigger: soon, there will be nothing left of him at all.

With his eyes trained on the screen (and most of his attention on you), he hears the tiny sounds you’re making: shifting, he thinks at first, getting comfortable. Maybe even going to sleep.

But no: you are so quiet only somebody with senses that have been heightened from years of training (years of hiding, and fleeing, and fighting for his life) would hear. But there’s a whimper—a vague, almost indistinct sniffling.

Oh no. Oh god.

Oh god oh god oh god.

Years of agency training have taught him to turn his back on people who are begging, or whining, or crying—but he’s never been any good at it.

And this is you: and his scrambled mind races, his heart drumming so loud against his ribs he is sure you can hear it. He would, he thinks wildly, do absolutely anything in the world to never hear you make such a miserable sound again.

Before he realizes what he’s doing, he stands. The room spins; he’s weak, and hungry, and angry, and scared; his stomach is in knots and the darkened room seems to tilt sideways around him.

You don’t seem to have noticed that he’s moved; you’re hiding your face in your shirt, back turned to him—and you are still (so very still). He doesn’t remember how to breathe.

“Uh...” he says, and the sound echoes horribly in the dull, sparsely furnished room. You say nothing. He clears his throat, takes an unsteady step toward you. He’s not thinking rationally anymore—not thinking about scaring you off, or keeping you safe. All he wants is to see that look in your eyes again: that soft one, the one that makes his hands and feet feel too big and his skin seem to burn and his breath catch in his throat.

“Are, uh...are you okay?” he rasps. You’re still ignoring him, which is a first; your face is turned away, so he goes to your side, kneeling on the floor beside you. You sniffle. He feels like his heart is going to burst.

“Yeah,” you say—and unlike him, you are not such a good liar. Without meaning to, he reaches for you: finds his fingers (of their own accord) doing what they’ve been itching to do since the moment he first laid eyes on you. He touches your hair—brushing it off your face, tucking it behind you ear.

Your eyes, he thinks (fiercely, irrationally): he needs to see your eyes.

“Don’t believe you,” he says. With a sigh of exasperation, you turn to him: oh, and your eyes are blazing, red-rimmed. And he is the one who has done this to you—he is the monster who has made you suffer.

His mind seems to have driven itself into the ground. Suddenly, he can’t remember how to do anything at all.

But his body moves of its own accord, because his heart has always been eons ahead of his (brilliant and foolish) mind.

“Hey,” he finds himself murmuring, brushing your cheek with his rough fingertips (and he knows he shouldn’t, but now that he’s here, he is finding it almost impossible to resist). “I know,” he says, without even quite understanding what he means. “I know.”

You watch him; and there it is again—just for a moment, that softness deep in your eyes that sets him on fire.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the words springing to his lips before his brain can get in his way. “I’m so, so...I didn’t mean to...I never...”

You shake your head, and your hair falls into your eyes again. He brushes it back, finding that there is nothing—nothing—in the world quite as wonderful as the feeling of your warm skin under his fingers.

“I get it,” you tell him. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“I can’t...” He makes himself take a deep breath, and regrets it instantly as his senses are flooded by the warm, enticing scent of you. He feels you all around him now. “I didn’t mean it,” he says quietly. “Please. I can’t stand to see you making that face.”

You force a watery laugh, and the effort you are making for him is almost too much. His mind races. For a moment, he imagines how it would feel to wrap your small body in his arms—to press his lips to your temple and feel your heart beating against his skin.

“How’s this?” you say. You offer him a passable impression of a smile, and he wants to throw himself at your feet.

“Terrible,” he says. You laugh, and it sounds a tiny bit more believable this time. You are looking at him, and there it is again: that softening in your eyes that makes him think (just for a moment) that there could be a happy ending for him after all.

“I...” he starts. What? He can’t tell you how he feels—what he wants—what he is afraid of. Not here. Not now. Not yet. “Please,” he finds himself whispering. “Can you...just give me a little more time?”

You nod, and there is a strength in you that nearly knocks him off his feet.

“Yeah,” you say: and this time you sound like you mean it.

Against his will, he pushes himself up—makes his way back to his miserable little corner of the room. But he pauses—turns—and you are still waiting, still watching him. Of course you are.

“I’m gonna make it right,” he says, not quite meeting your eyes. Never, he thinks: he will never ever make you cry again.

“I believe you,” you say.

It is the first time anyone has ever told him this.

His heart shivers.

“I won’t let you down,” he says—promises. He means it with all his heart.

#mystic messenger #saeyoung choi #707 #headcanons #asks #417 #fwends 🥺#<3 <3 <3

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scoopsahoy · 4 years ago

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hi can u do a sequel to the derek pregnancy fic where u were pregnant for a full nine months and go into labor one night when yall r asleep

ぺ word count ⋰ 1.8k

✰ tw ⋰ none :)

❍ cw ⋰ birth

ꨃ part one

✐ masterlist

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

You opened your eyes to a sharp pain in your back and stomach, causing a sharp breath to enter through your nose.

“Jesus,” you whispered to yourself. You gently pulled Derek’s arm, which was wrapped around your stomach, off of you. You sat up with a struggle, as you were heavily pregnant. You looked at the alarm clock to see it was almost six o’clock in the morning.

The pregnancy was nine months, meaning the baby would be human. You found out at five months that it was going to be a girl, and Derek couldn’t wait to have a tiny version of you running around his loft.

It was a rough nine months. It destroyed your knees, hips, ankles, and gave you massive, dark stretch marks. You’d become insecure about them, but Derek didn’t care.

He was sad that you were insecure about them. He called them your ‘battle scars’, always making sure to make you feel better about yourself when you looked in the mirror.

Even having been with him for over three years, you’d never seen the sensitive side of him that came out when you got pregnant. He made you breakfast, massaged your feet, and would even help you wash your hair sometimes.

You loved it, you just wish he’d been like this the whole time you knew him.

Moving his arm woke him up, and he reached over and lightly ran his hand up and down your back.

“You okay?” he mumbled, still half asleep.

“I think so-”

Just then, you felt a massive puddle forming under you. It dripped onto the floor and you felt a pressure in your belly.

“Derek,” you said in a monotone voice, standing up. You looked at the wet spot on the bed, and he did too.

“Did you pee yourself?” he asked innocently.

“I think my water just broke.” That seemed to wake him up, because he immediately shot out of bed. “Get the hospital bag,” you told him as he slipped his shirt on. He nodded and practically ran to the other side of the loft, returning with a crossbody bag.

He helped you put your shoes on and when you stood back up, he took your hand, helping you to the elevator.

You’d never seen him so nervous and distraught, anxiety reeking from his body. When you got outside and to his car, he made sure you were strapped in before running to the driver’s side and zooming to the hospital.

When you arrived, he didn’t even bother parking straight. He dragged you inside, calling out for help. You both looked up to see Scott’s mom, Melissa. You let out a sigh of relief when she ran over, followed by a nurse with a wheelchair.

You eagerly sat down in it, letting them wheel you to a room you didn’t even know the number for.

Once you were changed into a hospital gown, you laid in the bed, an IV in your arm, and bracelets on your wrist. Derek sat next to you, holding your hand.

“Have you had any contractions yet?” Melissa asked.

“No, not yet.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Sometimes water will break before contractions start, but they should get here soon.”

“I didn’t think you worked in obstetrics,” you said as you adjusted the blankets.

“I don’t. I figured I’d stay with you for a minute though. Is there anyone you want to call?”

“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot.” You looked at Derek. “Can you grab me my phone?” He nodded, pulling it out of his pocket. “Thanks.” You opened it and scrolled through your contacts, finding the name Stiles.

Stiles was one of your best friends, and he was eager when you announced the pregnancy. He told you he wanted to be there when you gave birth and made you promise you’d tell him when you went into labor.

Even if it was six in the morning.

You held the phone up to your ear, hearing it ring a few times.

“Hello?” said the groggy voice on the other line.

“Hey, what are you up to?”

“Sleeping,” he said simply.

“Well, I figured I’d let you know I’m in labor, but if you wanna go back to sleep you can.”

“You’re what?” he yelled, making you pull the phone away from your ear.

“My water broke. I’m at the hospital.”

“Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be there.”

“I can’t control-” He hung up. “-when the baby comes.”

You sighed and smiled at Derek.

“I’ll come back when you start pushing, okay?” Melissa said, giving you a smile.

“Okay. Thank you.” She left with a smile.

“Are you gonna call your parents?”

“I never even told them I was pregnant.”

“Really?”

“Did you forget I haven’t talked to them in years?”

“I just figured this might be something they should know. You know, since they’re about to be grandparents and everything.”

You sighed. “I’ll call them sometime. Just not now.”

He nodded. “I’m gonna go get some food from the vending machine, do you want anything?”

You nodded. “A Snickers would be nice.”

“Okay.” He leaned over and kissed you. “Be right back.”

No one else had seen this side of Derek except you. He wasn’t the same person he was to Stiles, or Scott, or even his uncle, Peter. With you, he was soft and sweet, always making sure you had everything you needed and wanted. You doubted anyone would believe you if you told them half the things he’d done for you over the years, even before you started dating.

Fifteen minutes went by quickly, and before you knew it, Stiles ran into your room, his shoes squeaking and his breath heavy.

“You haven’t given birth yet, have you?” he asked as he sat next to your feet.

“Nope, not yet. I haven’t even gotten contractions yet.”

“Is that good?”

“Just means it’ll take longer.”

He nodded. “Great.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

Just then, you felt a heavy pressure and pain course down from your stomach to your legs, your hand reaching for Stiles’, which was right next to your knee.

“Nevermind,” you groaned, closing your eyes and inhaling sharply.

He winced and an ‘Ow’ left his lips.

When the contraction died down a moment later, you let go of his hand. “Sorry.”

“No worries,” he said, shaking his hand.

“That was not what I was expecting it to feel like.”

“Better or worse?”

“Way worse,” you chuckled. “Jesus. The next few hours are gonna be Hell.”

‘Few hours’ was an understatement. It was now seven p.m., and your contractions still weren’t anywhere near as close as they needed to be.

You’d tried everything the midwife suggested to speed it up: walking around the room, sitting in a chair, sitting on a yoga ball, drinking tea and water, peeing, laying on your left side, and you even tried falling asleep.

But none of it worked.

At this point, you were sweating, crying and in some of the worst pain you’d ever felt.

The doctor decided to see how far dilated you were, which was two centimeters, eight away from being able to push.

“On the bright side, you’ll be able to deliver naturally,” she said.

“What does that mean?” Derek asked.

“No c-section.” You both let out a sigh of relief. “Once you get to four centimeters you’ll be in active labor, which shouldn’t be as long as early labor.”

“Thank God,” you whispered.

Even though it wasn’t as long as early labor, active labor was ten times more painful. It was definitely the absolute worst pain you’d ever felt.

But your boyfriend and best friend were there for you the entire time, even through your random bursts of anger, sadness, and pain.

When you were told you were at nine centimeters, you looked at Derek.

“I can’t do this, I don’t think I can do it.”

He stood up and leaned over you, gripping your hands. Stiles stood at the other side of the bed.

“Hey,” he said, softening his voice. “Are you kidding me? If anyone can do this, you can do this.” You let a tear fall. “Babe, I’m scared, too. But guess what? We’re gonna have a baby. A tiny version of you. We’re gonna have a little girl. And she’s gonna be awesome. Okay?”

You nodded. “I love you,” you whispered. You looked at Stiles. “Be ready for me to crush your hand,” you laughed.

“I’m ready,” he said somewhat reluctantly. “Just try not to break any bones.”

You smiled.

“Alright, Y/N. You ready?”

Screams filled the room, both Stiles and Derek wincing at how hard you were squeezing their hands.

You pushed a total of six times before you felt a massive relief of pressure, and you gasped for air. Your cheeks were soaked with sweat and tears, your legs tingly.

You let go of their hands and, just like before, Stiles shook his hand in the air. You breathily chuckled at his reaction as the nurses wrapped the crying newborn in a blanket.

They handed her to you, now having stopped screaming, and you started crying all over again.

She was beautiful. She had the same pale green eyes that Derek had, and bright red hair.

“She’s a ginger,” he whispered.

“My dad is, maybe that’s who she got it from,” you said.

Only a little while later, Derek was next to you in the bed, and you both just watched her sleep in his arms.

You’d never seen him so happy. He had a soft smile plastered to his face and he was a natural at holding her.

You let Stiles hold her, and, just like your boyfriend, you’d never seen him happier. An uncontrollable grin formed as he sat in the recliner with her, letting you and Derek have open arms for a little while.

Once Scott and the rest of the group arrived, you decided to tell them the name you settled on: Charlotte Allison Hale, Charlie for short. Allison was your best friend before she died, and you figured it would be a nice tribute to her.

Scott loved it, and it pleasantly surprised you. You were worried it would make him sad, and you knew it probably did, but you were glad he liked the name, too.

You spent the next few days in the hospital, learning how to change diapers, breastfeed, and all of the other essential things included in being new parents.

Stiles was there every day, other than going to school. He went to his classes, went to lacrosse practice, and then immediately came back to the hospital.

You liked being at the hospital and having some help from the nurses and Stiles, but being able to go home and spend time just the three of you was your favorite thing in the process.

And it made your heart melt watching Derek with her. For the first few days he didn’t let you get up during the night and insisted he go check on and feed her with the bottles of breastmilk you had pumped while at the hospital.

You were finally in a place where you were genuinely happy with everything in your life. And you couldn’t have asked for a better one.

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Me and You Together, 4/10 (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: fam this response is crazy it really is��thank u all so much for the love, kudos and comments, i’m so sorry if i’ve not managed to reply to urs yet but know that i’ve read them all and cherish every one and i will get round to replying and yelling some love and thanks at u soon!!! pls enjoy this chapter in which A'whora does not possess the flat’s shared brain cell at any point. that being said, i wish all the readers of this fic a very pleasant italicised ‘oh’ xo

last chapter: January-Tayce and A’whora still had unfinished business from a night out and a hungover morning in December.

this chapter: October- The gang make plans for their first year together, Tia gives everyone plans for the evening, and A'whora has a realisation that will change the dynamic of her friendship with Tayce forever.

***

“Bimini, what is it you’re actually doing?”

A’whora’s intrigued by the way her flatmate’s sitting on the sofa: legs crossed, notepad in one hand and a cigarette in the other, and looking deep in thought. They’ve not long since stretched over the smoke detector with a sock, having long since established nobody in the flat minds them smoking indoors as long as the windows are open. Lawrence is beside them on the other end of the sofa having been to all the lectures that’re required of her already today and has got a bright pink, blue and purple-flecked ball of yarn hanging from two knitting needles, with which she seems to be knitting some sort of cosy accessory. It’s a wholesome picture that’s playing out in front of A’whora, one that’s miles away from the raucous, drunk nights they’ve all shared in the first month of uni so far.

“Okay, here’s what it is,” Bimini starts, clicking their long nails together. “I am making us a freshers bucket list, and I want your input.”

“Ooh!” Lawrence perks up beside them, and A’whora, interest piqued, picks up the bowl of pasta, butter and cheese she’s spent all of five minutes making and crosses the room to sit beside her flatmates.

She knows it’s only been a month so far, but she really loves everyone she’s living with. For a start, there are four of them that take classes at the art college (the ‘art hoes’, as Tayce calls them), so they all get to walk to lectures together and hang about between classes and workshops with each other depending on how their days are going. Bimini is almost always in the flat, with not a lot of contact hours making up their journalism degree, so they’re a comforting presence for A’whora to come home to at whatever hour of the day, always asking how she is and always offering to make her coffee. Tia is sweet and funny (if ever-so-slightly grating to her at first) and they’ve bonded over being the only two flatmates seemingly able to keep the place clean and tidy. Lawrence is endearing and big-hearted, if A’whora spends half her life hoping that her next prank isn’t involving her in some way (Ellie is usually the butt of them). Ellie herself is one of A’whora’s closest flatmates; they’ll often stay up half the night finishing prototypes or assignments together, all while watching a film which they have spookily similar taste in- they’ve agreed on 101 and 102 Dalmatians, Hocus Pocus, and The Wizard of Oz so far.

And then there’s Tayce, who A’whora thinks is both the absolute carbon copy of herself and yet also so different, the yin to her yang. Tayce has been her closest friend in the flat since day one when she booted the door to her room down and dragged her out of her emotional stupor, and that’s really what’s set the tone for the rest of their friendship; Tayce, upbeat and motivating, constantly and infectiously helping A’whora feel the same way even when she doesn’t want to go out, or doesn’t feel like dragging herself out of her room for a chill flat night with the others, or even when she just feels like a heap of shit. She’s such a fun and positive person to be around, relentlessly optimistic and goofy, and she brings out that side of A’whora too. As opposed to during sixth form and high school, where she’d put up a front to make sure nobody fucked with her, A’whora finds that at uni she can be the person she truly is and let her guard down a little.

This includes being open about her sexuality for the first time ever. She’s out to her family (for the better or worse), but nobody else back home knows (not even her friends) and she wants to keep it that way for now. But at uni things are different- nobody knows her here, nobody has these preconceived ideas of who she is and who she has to be, so she’d taken the plunge and been open about everything. None of the others had cared of course, in fact they’d all been too excited about the fact there’s not a single straight person in their flat comprised of four lesbians (Tayce, Lawrence, Tia and A’whora), one bi (Ellie) and one pan (Bimini).

“What’ve you got so far?” A’whora asks Bimini, sitting down on the sofa opposite her two flatmates.

Bimini reads off their notepad. “Casino night, bottomless brunch…get the train down to Newcastle, have a big night out, stay out all night an’ get the first train home-”

“Christ, that’ll be a challenge for me, you know I get sleepy around midnight,” Lawrence chuckles.

Bimini shrugs. “We’ll just get you an IV drip of Ellie’s Monster, you’ll be alright.”

“What else’ve you got?”

“That’s it so far.”

A’whora spears a pasta spiral, tilts her head in thought as she eats it. “Get drunk in a lecture.”

“Aw, good one!” Lawrence cries enthusiastically. Bimini, for their part, frowns with disapproval.

“Wait, no! Not a good one. Not a good one at all. It’s alright for you art school bitches, you’ve got some lectures together and you can coordinate, where does that leave me n’ Tia?”

“I guess that leaves you…downing a bottle of five pound chardonnay on the back bench of a lecture hall like a tramp with a drinking problem,” Lawrence shrugs, A’whora yelping out a laugh as Bimini shoves Lawrence with their foot.

Just then, there’s movement in the hall and as A’whora turns around she’s greeted by the sight of a tired-looking Tayce and Ellie walking into the kitchen. They shrug off their coats and take off their shoes and dump their bags on the kitchen table with a huff before they walk over to the others. Tayce spreads herself out over the sofa that A’whora’s sitting on, thudding her feet onto her lap without asking permission, to which A’whora instantly pushes them off her and gets a glare and a smirk in return.

“Lawrie, are you knitting?” Ellie laughs, sitting on the arm of the sofa beside her.

“Yeah? And?”

Ellie snorts in amusement. “Just didn’t realise we were living with a wee granny.”

“Well actually, bawbag! I was in the middle of making you a scarf because I can’t stand to listen to you talking shite about how you’re cold every time we leave the flat, but I can leave it if you want,” Lawrence explains. A’whora thinks it’s funny how Ellie backtracks immediately; she can’t tell if she’s blushing or just out of breath from scaling their block’s stairs. Bimini gains control of the conversation, tilting their head in intrigue.

“How were your lectures, huns?”

“Shit, thanks for asking,” Tayce groans, thudding her head down dramatically against the sofa cushions. “I don’t know, I just can’t concentrate when I’m getting talked at for an hour at a time. I need to be doing stuff, you know?”

“Feel that,” Ellie joins in, deflated. A’whora can sympathise- she loves the practical elements of her course, but not so much the lectures. She’s glad she shares a lot of them with Ellie, and the two of them can dick about and text each other and doodle designs in their notebooks while keeping one ear on whoever’s speaking.

“Well if you want to be doing something, you can help us with this,” Bimini suggests, explaining the bucket list they’ve been making.

The girls get settled and the ideas start to flow, Lawrence putting her speakers on for background noise as they all come up with new and increasingly more chaotic exploits. Ellie suggests trying every cocktail in Levels which gets scribbled down into Bimini’s notepad, and Tayce suggests going to Levels sober, which doesn’t get afforded the same appreciation. A’whora comes up with crashing the catered halls for breakfast one day, which they all agree is a good idea but the chances of it actually happening are low considering the earliest riser in the flat is Tayce and even she doesn’t waken up til half nine on a weekend.

“What’re some clubs we’ve not been to yet?” Bimini asks, shrugging. “Could put those down, try an’ visit every one in the city?”

Lawrence snorts derisively. “You go to Underground if you want your phone stolen, Velvet if you want to be bullied by fifteen year olds in the toilets, and Crystal if you want to subject yourself to painful misogyny and probably some light sexual assault.”

“So none of those, then,” Bimini murmurs.

“Those are all really het as well, though,” Ellie wrinkles her nose up in distaste. Then her face lights up as she gets an idea. “Oh! Put down Pride in July.”

“Nice one,” Bimini nods as they scribble down Ellie’s suggestion, the others making little hums of approval.

The conversation goes on for quite some time. Halfway through it Tayce seems to decide she’s bored of lying down and instead moves to sit on the floor between A’whora’s legs, asking her to play with her hair. They’ll do this sometimes- it’s a routine they fall into, A’whora being able to style Tayce’s endlessly long, straight hair and Tayce finding the whole thing therapeutic. They have a lot of little routines like this: they’ll sit close together on the sofa during a flat movie night and take turns leaning on each others’ shoulders, spontaneously give each other hugs at random points throughout the day, trace patterns into each others’ palms when the other seems stressed.

It’s nice. A’whora’s never really had a friendship like this, soft and caring and kind. In school her group was the kind that made catty jokes about each other then buffered them with a “love you!” afterwards and took kissy-face group selfies only to bitch about each other on a private group chat mere hours later. If it was a wolfpack then it was rabid and cannibalistic, and it had seemed like a full-time job ensuring she was never the runt of it. What she’s got with all her flatmates now- especially Tayce- makes her feel like she can finally breathe.

“What about the Centurion Challenge?” Lawrence suggests with a small gasp, breaking A’whora’s reverie as she expertly twirls Tayce’s hair into a loose and chunky French plait.

“Jesus Christ, Lawrence,” Ellie mutters in amusement.

“What’s the Centurion Challenge?” Bimini asks, pulling a face.

Lawrence gives a blythe shrug as she elaborates. “A hundred shots in a hundred minutes.”

A’whora ruins Tayce’s braid in shock, her hair untwisting itself from the braid as if it’s outraged too. The cry she gives joins in harmony with that of Tayce’s and Bimini’s. “A hundred shots? You’d fucking die!”

“Not of vodka! Obviously not of vodka! I know we all have one communal brain cell between us but Christ, can one of yous not use it?!” Lawrence protests. “It’s a hundred shots of beer. Don’t shit yourselves.”

“Aw, well that’s alright then,” Bimini pipes up sarcastically. “What’s actually wrong with Scottish people? Is your breastmilk spiked with whiskey? What d’you get instead of Cow and Gate formula, just cocaine?"

“Actually, a hundred shots of beer sounds more doable to me,” Tayce shrugs, and A’whora can feel her relax against her lap.

“I’d need to change it, I can’t stand beer,” A’whora considers. Ellie cocks her head in consideration.

“Well what alcohol do you like?”

“Fucking none of it,” A’whora laughs. “Cocktails. Vodka cokes. Anything where there’s juice to cover it up.”

Tayce twists her head to look up at her, a little twinkle of mischief in her eye. “I think the challenge ceases to be a challenge when it’s reduced to one hundred watered down shots of Woo Woo, Rory.”

As the others blurt out a laugh A’whora glares down at Tayce, but she can’t help but break out into a giggle too when Tayce grabs her knee and gives it a playful wobble, letting her know she was only joking without even having to say a thing.

A’whora’s not sure what time it is when she hears the front door swing shut and Tia emerges from the hallway, her long hair all messed up from the seemingly ever-present wind outside and almost obscuring the bright smile plastered on her face. “Hey, huns!”

“Oi oi,” Tayce greets her from her position on the floor. “What’s got you so smiley?”

“Nooothing,” Tia smirks, dragging the word out playfully. “Just got an invite to the night out of a very cute girl in my MT society…and she said you guys can all come too. Pres at her flat and then out to The Avenue. Evening plans sorted?”

“Oh, love that!” Bimini gives an enthusiastic clap. “Go on then, who’s the girl? Whose night are we crashing?”

“Her name’s Veronica,” Tia smiles bashfully. “She’s so lovely. Honestly, she wouldn’t mind you coming! She’s got one of the big flats over at Gourock Court so it’s not like it’ll be packed.”

“You don’t exactly want to go to a party that’s not going to be packed,” Ellie screws up her nose. She looks unimpressed and her tone is flat. “And even if it is, I don’t know if I’m in the mood for a flat party with a ton of new people, Tia.”

A’whora’s face drops and she locks eyes with Lawrence simultaneously, who’s got an equally incredulous look on her face. “Els, are you unwell? You never turn down a night out.”

Ellie shrugs quietly, not giving much away on her face. Tia, obviously keen to move to the girl she’s crushing on, carries on persuading her. “C’mon, Eleanor, don’t be such a fucking…square! It’s the musical theatre society, we’re just a walking Pride festival who all happen to be able to hold a tune. There’s loads of fit lesbians?”

“Well if I wasn’t convinced before, I sure am now,” Tayce purrs, a little smile appearing on her lips and a cheeky twinkle in her eyes. A’whora feels her laugh come out weakly. She doesn’t know why, but an odd, uncomfortable feeling lodges itself in her gut. She can’t quite put her finger on what exactly it is or why it’s put itself there.

“And there’s gonna be so many musicals on the playlist!” Tia continues to insist, despite being met with Ellie’s sour face. “I know you’ll love it! They’d probably even play stuff from Shrek if you got them drunk enough.”

A’whora can’t help but scrunch up her nose in distaste. “Hey, I’m only coming if they play fucking…normal people music as well. I’m not gonna be sat in a room with twenty white kids trying to rap to Hamilton or whatever the fuck it is.”

Tia rolls her eyes, plants her hands on her hips in exasperation. “Calm down, A’whora, you’ll still get all the top 40 dance-pop shit you love so much.”

“To be honest, it sounds class. And The Avenue’s always good,” Bimini cuts in calmly. A’whora does have to agree with that. They’ve not been there in a while- the bar across the road from the city’s most popular LGBT club- and its selection of early 00s pop princess tracks combined with its deal of two vodka mixers and a shot for a fiver makes it a guaranteed good night out.

“Well it seems like we’re all down, even if this stroppy cow isn’t,” Tia smiles happily, sticking her tongue out at Ellie for good measure. Ellie finally heaves a world-weary sigh, rolling her eyes dramatically as she relents.

“Ugh, fine! Fine, but this Verruca or whatever the hell she’s called better be the hottest bitch on the planet for you to drag us all out with your MT weirdos, Tia Maria,” she grumps. Tia ignores her bad mood and lets out a cheer which the others join in with, and A’whora resolves to interrogate Ellie about her Bitter Betty attitude later on. Preferably when they’re both drunk. That always makes things easier.

In the melee of excitement, Tayce twists round from her position on the carpet, folds her arms and rests them on top of A’whora’s thighs. “Right. You need to come help me choose an outfit if we’re going out. I need to look fit.”

A’whora smiles with pride. “Ooh, personal stylist duties? I’m honoured.”

“Well I’m hardly gonna ask Tia, am I?” Tayce giggles quietly, and A’whora joins in like it’s a little secret they’re sharing. “Or Ellie. She’d just send me out in one of her bodysuit/skirt combos. I swear to God that girl is like Marge bloody Simpson. Open up her wardrobe and she’ll have twenty sets of the same outfit. Serial killer behaviour, that.”

At this point A’whora is laughing so much that it draws the attention of the others, who eye them with suspicious stares. “What the hell’s so funny?”

A’whora gives Tayce a mischievous look. “Tayce just called Ellie a serial killer.”

Tayce yelps in outrage at having been called out, and as Ellie narrows her eyes Tayce leaps up from the floor and tugs A’whora off of the sofa with her. “That’s taking it out of context, you absolute hound! Come on, help me pick something.”

Tayce’s fingers stay curled around A’whora’s hand all the way down the corridor and into her bedroom. It’s a feeling that A’whora likes because it makes her feel close to her friend, and Tayce taking her hand is like an affirmation and a reassurance all in one; that she likes her, that their friendship has reached the level where hand-holding has become acceptable, that A’whora is worthy of being liked, of being someone’s friend- their real, proper friend. The validation sets her heart off like a flare. It’s nice to feel wanted.

A’whora perches on the edge of Tayce’s bed as she scrapes the coat hangers in her wardrobe and throws outfits onto the bed like a tornado, each more gorgeous than the last and all ones Tayce would look stunning in. That’s something that always strikes A’whora about Tayce; just how beautiful she is, how absolutely blessed with the God-given good genes. The way she looks serene and ethereal without makeup, walking to lectures in the morning with the sun hitting her face and giving her skin a glow. The way she paints for a night out and knows how to accentuate everything about her face that’s already perfect, a feat that would seem like an exaggeration if A’whora hadn’t seen it for herself to confirm it’s true. She frequently finds herself having to hold back from giving compliments to Tayce because if she started she’d never stop.

“Okay, first thoughts are…” Tayce announces unnecessarily loudly, and A’whora laughs at the way she’s talking as if she’s a stylist on a morning TV show. “…I’m thinking something black.”

“Of course you are,” A’whora interrupts with a laugh. “Tayce wearing black. How predictable.”

Tayce gives her a shove on the shoulder that’s too hard and makes her fall back against the mattress. “Shut up! I’ll wear something other than black when Lawrence wears something other than purple, how’s about that?”

The pair of them giggle at the joke as Tayce rifles through the clothes she’s shortlisted, holding up a black leather jacket and a black bralet with an intricate lace hem. The combination makes A’whora’s eyes fly wide open in appreciation.

“This?” Tayce raises an eyebrow at her inquisitively. The fact she’s obviously seen her reaction makes A’whora feel a little self-conscious and she doesn’t particularly know why. “Because I’m wanting to wear either my wet-look leggings or my black vinyl skirt with the zip up the front, and I don’t know if that’s too much leather effect stuff?”

“It’s too much,” A’whora nods, physically unable to help her honesty. “Also I think you should wear the skirt because you’ve got good legs and you should get them out any chance you get. But also the bralet won’t go with it because it’ll make your proportions all wrong.”

Tayce smiles appreciatively as she throws the bralet back into her wardrobe as if A’whora’s given her a command and not a suggestion. “See, this is another reason why you’re the queen of outfit advice. Bimini wouldn’t give me this level of honesty, they’re too nice.”

A’whora feels a warmth spread in her chest at the compliment, but she doesn’t show it. Instead she snorts, nods in agreement. “Yeah, because you could come out dressed in a pair of child’s pyjamas and they’d still say they love it. They’d say it’s very Y2K or something.”

Tayce lets out a cackle before holding up the skirt and leather jacket, humming in thought. “Okay, so you’re saying ditch the jacket but keep the skirt.”

“Yes.”

“And ditch the bralet.”

“Yes.”

“So you want me to go out in a skirt and a pair of heels and nothing else,” Tayce raises an eyebrow at her, and as A’whora bursts out laughing and protests she has to fight off a blush at the thought of her best friend topless in heels. Topless in heels and a vinyl skirt. Topless in heels and a vinyl skirt with a zip that could just be pulled down to leave her in-

The heat floods A’whora’s face like she’s been smacked and she shifts on the bed in an attempt at dissipating the feelings that’ve hit her like a tsunami. Inappropriate. Weird. Way too weird. Don’t do that again.

“What about the bright blue fur coat you’ve got? Because you could have an all black outfit with that as a bit of colour,” she suggests, shrugging lightly in an attempt to pretend that she hadn’t just been thinking about Tayce in the way she had.

Tayce’s face lights up and she points at A’whora with one hand and reaches into her wardrobe with the other. “Love that. Okay, top?”

“Are you addressing me? I’ve never topped for anyone,” A’whora attempts a joke. If Tayce can make jokes like that to her then she can do it right back.

“That’s very clear, baby,” Tayce shoots in response without missing a beat. Before A’whora realises it, she’s flexing her toes. What the fuck is happening to her? She needs to steer this conversation back on track.

She thinks for a second. “You’re a size eight, right?”

“In theory. The amount of pot noodles I’ve been chucking down my neck since I moved in is very quickly rendering that a distant memory, I’ll tell ya,” Tayce says, as she leans against the door of her wardrobe and folds her arms.

“I’ve got a black lace bodysuit that would go with that. It’s a ten so it’ll fit. D’you want to try it?”

“Well despite the fact a skirt and a bodysuit was the very thing I just roasted Ellie for always wearing…that sounds lush. Thanks, Rory Roo,” Tayce agrees, the nickname-of-a-nickname setting off the click of a small pilot light in A’whora’s heart. She’s about to ask if she wants to come try it on just now when she hears both their names being yelled from the kitchen.

The pair of them head back through to find that Tia has changed the playlist on the speakers from the chilled-out, calm acoustic one that had been playing to her early 00’s tunes. Combined with Bimini half-singing, half-yelling along to Murder on the Dancefloor and the blast of the extractor fan as Ellie stirs something in a big metal pot at the hob, it’s a far cry from the calm, cosy scene that A’whora had witnessed in the kitchen some hours prior.

Ellie had been the one who had shouted on them, and she whips around from the cooker when she realises that Tayce and A’whora have come through. “I’m making dinner for me, Bims and Tia, you wanting some?”

“Depends what it is. Come on, talk it up, Ellie. Give us some options,” Tayce shrugs with feigned disinterest, and A’whora can’t help the bubble of laughter that bursts from her mouth as Ellie narrows her eyes at her.

“It’s spaghetti and meatballs, and your alternatives are fuck off or die,” she shoots back savagely, and the whoop of shock and laughter that goes up from the others soars above the music and the fan. Tayce laughs good-naturedly in spite of the barb.

“I’m joking, ‘course I’ll take some.”

A’whora wrinkles her nose. “You’re making meatballs for a meal that Bimini is gonna eat?”

“They’re not real ones, dipshit,” Bimini pipes up from over on the sofa. “It’s that Birdseye Green Cuisine shit, innit.”

“Birdseye Green Cuisine shit,” A’whora repeats disdainfully. “If you ever go on The Apprentice, Bim, Alan Sugar’s gonna shit himself at your selling abilities.”

Tayce snorts, tries and fails to cover it up. When her eyes rest on A’whora they share a little smile, and A’whora’s grows bigger when she thinks about the way they’re both so in sync all the time.

“They’re nice, I promise! Veronica’s talked them up loads, she told me she’s been trying to eat more veggie things,” Tia insists, with an entirely unnecessary namedrop of her crush. A’whora relents and says she’ll have a small bowl before jumping out of her skin as Ellie bangs the spoon against the pot somewhat aggressively with a face like thunder.

Before A’whora can ask Ellie about her bad mood, Tia speaks again as she scrolls her phone to change the song. “Honestly, Ellie, you’re a star for doing dinner. Thanks so much.”

“Aw, don’t be silly, doll! It’s nothing!” Ellie turns around from the hob and bats the compliment away, shooting Tia a dazzling smile in return. It’s funny the way her demeanour seems to instantly do a complete 180 at the praise, and it makes A’whora wonder what’s changed.

She’s distracted, though, by the way Lawrence enters in her dressing gown with her hair up in a towel, obviously having come straight from the shower. She pouts and whines in a very un-Lawrence way as she lingers at the doorframe between the hall and the kitchen.

“Guysss, does anyone have an ID they can give me for tonight?”

“What about your friend? Who was it…Rosé?” A’whora shrugs, and Lawrence fixes her with a wide-eyed stare of incredulity.

“Oh my God, A’whora! I never thought about asking the girl I’ve been borrowing ID from since the start of uni! Thanks for that!” she says sarcastically, Bimini giving a yelp of laughter and A’whora leaning off the countertops and swiping at Lawrence in retort. “She’s using it. She asked her girlfriend and her flatmates for me but they’ve all got plans. I felt like a fuckin’ daytime TV charity advert.”

“For just one pound a week, you could help an underaged child get blackout drunk on triple trebles,” A’whora puts on a dramatic, concerned voice, proud of the way it makes Tayce blurt out a laugh.

“It’s such fucking bullshit,” Lawrence huffs, leaning against the fridge and folding her arms. “I mean my eighteenth’s in five days and I’ve been drinking in parks since I was fourteen, how can I not just be let into a fuckin’ bar?”

“Grow up and order a fake one,” Ellie shakes her head with incredulity, smashing the wooden spoon against the pot again with a bang-bang-bang to get the excess pasta sauce off.

“Just you pipe down, hen, you shouldn’t even be at uni. In fact, have you even completed primary yet?”

The two girls stick their tongues out at each other, a mirror-image of petty bickering that makes A’whora laugh. Luckily Bimini steps in, shrugging as they open their purse.

“Here, babe. I’ve still got my course friend’s provisional from when she dropped it on Gordon Street when she was off her face. I ain’t given her it back yet an’ I’m sure she wouldn’t care if you borrowed it. She’s chill.”

Lawrence accepts enthusiastically, bouncing over to Bimini and thanking them gratefully. A’whora watches her face drop, though, when she takes a look at the photo.

“There’s no way this’ll work.”

Bimini tuts and shakes their head, the picture of casual composure. “It’s fine, babes, they never look properly anyway.”

Lawrence drops the hand that’s holding the license to her side and fixes her friend with an astounded glare. “Bimini. This girl is black.”

As the others screech with outrage and mirth, Bimini waves Lawrence’s concerns away blithely. “It’ll be dark! It’s fine! Asttina an’ you have both got similar…well…you’re both girls, an’ you’re about the same height. Give or take a few inches.”

“Christ. I’m going to have to just forward roll past the bouncers, aren’t I? Then draw a fuckin’ club stamp on my arm in Sharpie.”

“Oh my God, stop moaning!” Ellie sighs from her position at the hob, bangs the spoon again for emphasis. “Look, I’ll ask Pippa from flat 2, alright? You both have brown hair, so…that’ll probably be enough.”

A’whora thinks it’s interesting the way Lawrence doesn’t shoot something back in her foghorn of a voice like she normally does. Instead she smiles warmly, dashes over to the kitchen where she hugs Ellie from behind, squeezing her tightly at the stomach and making her flinch in surprise.

“Thanks, Ellie-Bellie,” she sing-songs, swaying her aggressively from side to side until Ellie bats her away, flicking the spoon in a way that threatens to shower them both in marinara sauce.

“Right, that’s plenty. Don’t even do things I enjoy for that long.”

“When’s this gonna be ready, Els?” Bimini shouts through as Lawrence lets go. “ ‘Ave I got time to do my makeup before it?”

Ellie shrugs. “If you can do your makeup in ten minutes.”

A’whora kicks her leg out in Tayce’s direction and jerks her head towards the hall. “Do you want to try on that bodysuit before tea?”

Tayce nods enthusiastically in agreement, so they go back along the corridor with a shout to the others telling them they won’t be long. A’whora holds the door of her room open for Tayce and her heart sinks in embarrassment when she realises she forgot to make her bed this morning.

“Sorry about the mess,” she apologies, to which Tayce gives a cry of a laugh in response.

“A’whora, have you seen my room? You’re fine, kid, don’t worry.”

A’whora thinks that’s true- Tayce’s room is a state, but somehow it seems to suit her. Tayce’s room with the crowded bulletin board, desk covered in sweet wrappers and sketches, floor carpeted with clothes that need washed and outfits that didn’t make the cut. The cracked picture frame on her window-sill of the first selfie the six of them all got together on the first night of freshers and the huge cheese plant that sits next to her bedside table, Tayce’s pride and joy. They’re all little intricate shards that join up to form a perfect picture of her personality, and A’whora thinks it’s sort of perfect.

She looks out the bodysuit from its neatly Marie Kondo-d place in her wardrobe and hands it gently to Tayce. “Try it and see. It’s a small 10 anyway so it’ll probably be fine for you.”

Tayce accepts it gratefully and hooks a finger around both of the straps, letting the rest of the material fall out of its perfectly folded little parcel. She gives a little gasp of appreciation as she looks at it. “Oh yes, baby. I think this’ll do just fine.”

A’whora feels good- proud that she’s managed to find the perfect piece for Tayce’s outfit, to help her look as inevitably gorgeous as she knows she will. The smile on her face falters, though, when Tayce shoots her a wink and leans against the wall with her shoulder. “This is gonna get me someone I can pop off my acrylics for, I can tell. You’ve got the best taste, girl.”

“Are you actually going to try and get with someone tonight?” A’whora injects a laugh into her question that she’s banking on sounding genuine, otherwise it comes across as accusatory and that’s not what she means it to be. Or is it? She doesn’t know. “You know how messy nights at The Avenue always get. Last time we were there Lawrence got so drunk she told us she couldn’t see, remember?”

Tayce laughs her off with a shrug. “Well then I’ll just have to be careful with my drinks, won’t I?”

A’whora gives a false laugh, tries so hard to get it to meet her eyes. Why is she so pressed about this? She gets with girls on nights out too, she’s brought the occasional one night stand to the flat. Tayce is allowed to do the same.

So why does she feel ever so slightly gutted?

If her smile looks fake (which it is) then Tayce doesn’t notice, and she only shoots her a smile as she opens the bedroom door. “You’re an angel. I’ll pop this on then be back in five.”

A’whora takes the opportunity of Tayce having left to make her bed, and as she does so she feels lots of little thoughts dart around her mind like minnows, none of them staying in the same place for long enough to be able to be deciphered. She manages to catch a few before they flee away and she clings to them, turning them over in her head: why does she feel so bothered about the prospect of Tayce finding a girl at the party, talking to her and making a connection and laughing at her jokes? Why had it felt like a punch to the gut when Tayce was joking about doing so? Why does she have this part of her that feels like an idiot for setting Tayce up to look her best and knowing that it’s for the benefit of somebody else, somebody that doesn’t know her like she does?

And then her bedroom door opens and A’whora turns around and lays eyes on her best friend. Tayce in her high heels and bare legs and the skirt with the zip. Tayce with her baby blue fake fur coat and her straight, dark hair tumbling over its shoulders. Tayce in the bodysuit- A’whora’s bodysuit- with the lace and the mesh that clings to her chest like it was designed just for her. There’s something about the fact that she’s wearing something that belongs to A’whora that makes something inside her chest tingle, the fact it’s a little piece of her in Tayce’s jigsaw puzzle that seems to fit regardless of the difference.

“What d’you think?” Tayce smiles, all too aware of how drop-dead stunning she looks.

And then the realisation hits A’whora like a train.

Oh.

Fuck.

She’s screwed.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #ortega #me and you together #taywhora #uk2 #lesbian au #university au #british au #college au #freshers au #roommate au #tayce #a'whora #friends with benefits to lovers #lawrence chaney #ellie diamond #bimini bon boulash #tia kofi

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pinkykitten · 4 years ago

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everything stays

chapter 1 - blood on her hands :: gisela klein [ an aot oc story ]

note: hey guys i know its been a rlly long time since ive posted anything and u may be rlly let down and underwhelmed that ive chosen to write a aot oc instead of fanfic but its what i want to write and i rlly love my oc and wanna give her some love and some praise and let u a little in how i see her. im sorry i havent posted a lot im going to try to write more and who knows i may or may not finish this but its ok imma try lol but life sometimes is a butthole. i hope you love her as much as i do an tysm for taking time out of ur day to read this story. enjoy!

Even though she knew that this day would have to come and that it was near, it still was a surprise for her. She was taken aback. It didn’t make sense and add up to her; she was trained for this since she was little; preparing mentally and physically for phase one of the plan; and the day appeared through the trees; past the wall; the opportunity was present; the fate of the people were waiting in their hands; and yet she felt a sense of evilness within her heart. Was this right? But there was no time.

The day was written down in history. The stories were spread around like a disease. Heights, jaws, teeth, feet, stench, the screams. If they survived that nightmare they were seen as a tough soldier; as someone that was applauded because they probably had PTSD and had to see everyday as a reason within themselves or God that they were alive. That maybe just maybe they were saved for a reason; for a purpose. That is what Gisela Klein thought. Maybe there was something greater out there for her to do, to accomplish and that was why she saw another day; breathed another breath.

But one thing was for sure. Forgiveness would never come her way; she would never expect it. To be a warrior she had to endure the horror; the pain; feelings of worthlessness; and friendships lost.

This is the story of the 10th finding titan; the Slash Titan.

The pounding of her heart rang through her ears. It had taken everything for her to keep going on this journey; to continue on the path to and through Hell. She felt a loss within her and the light in her eyes died out. The loss of her friend made it hard for her to function. To keep her head in the game and in the plan.

She sighed as she stared at her hands. Broken and bruised like her heart; scars and scratches scattered on her skin. Her bite mark deeply engraved into her flesh. She heaved a huge sigh. Ready to give death a handshake and make a deal with the devil. Panic was rising in her chest from her stomach, almost ready to throw up.

As she thought about her family back home she realized there was no other way; she had to do this. In order to be with her family, to save them she had to do the one thing she was trained to do.

Kill.

A lightning strike shot over the wall. The wall that kept the monsters away and at bay. Something was wrong; the air seemed to change. The lightning strike caused a boom, clap and the ground started to shake.

Bertholdt drew his leg back and with full force swung his leg forward, knocking a hole into the wall that was impenetrable. Many people flew back from the wind of the blow and some were crushed by the debris of the wall.

Many were going to die; but it’s what needed to be done.

The titans were called.

Finally the titans entered the devils homes and started to rip up their lives. “This is right, this is right.” Gisela had to keep reminding herself. “For my family.” And something snapped within her. The image of her mother, tortured, flashed in her mind. And suddenly everything was worth it. “No regrets.”

Gisela eyed Reiner, an agreement, a sign. She exhaled and in a quick motion placed her hand to her mouth and bit into it. In a spark she transformed into her titan form. Her eyes were much like a cats, sharp. She was made into the slash titan, she was chosen for this program. Her titans fingers were like sharp knives, able to cut any object or person. They hung a little past her knees.

Reiner then transformed and both stomped past the hole. Many citizens glanced up, horrified. Gisela and Reiner were titans never seen before.

She nodded to Reiner, bent down and started to pick up debris and pieces of houses to throw over the bigger wall. The chunks started to smash against people. Blood splattering everywhere. Gisela almost wanted to close her eyes from the immense amount of dead bodies piled on top of others, graves upon graves.

She was hauling boulders as high and fast as she could. Her titan held a high amount of power and strength. Being slim, muscular and as tall as the armored titan and female titan. Reiner took a step back and gained his speed to go onward to destroy the bigger wall.

“Fire!” Their soldiers cried out. Fear evident on their face. They shot their cannons, not even slowing down Reiner. Gisela continued flinging, wanting to create a path for Reiner. She was faster than before and many of her hits flattened the men in the front lines. Their screams and cries loud.

“Close the gate!” They tried, it was their last hope to save humanity. But it was not enough. Reiner broke the wall and killed those running and they went flying. They reached even higher than Gisela. It astounded her almost, they seemed like helpless birds flying high in the sky; but that thought was quickly wiped clean because the second they flew up in the air they came straight down with much force that many parts of their bodies broke.

Reiner did what he needed to do, he opened up a way for the titans to get in and they were swarming by the bunches.

In the distance, the survivors fled in boats across the river to get into the other walls. Gisela put herself in their shoes for a second. They had reason to be scared. Everything they have ever known was gone; their houses, loved ones, food, a place to feel the most comfortable you can feel despite situations; it was all gone. Gisela shook the thought out, not caring about these cruel humans feelings. They had none. No emotions. Gisela had to believe that thought; what she was told, she had to believe it with all her heart, or else what was real?

They waited till they were able to not be seen and Gisela turned human first and then so did Reiner. The four of them hopped on the boat. Talking amongst themselves. The wind howled through the vacant homes. Destruction everywhere. Gisela looked around her setting and saw a little girl had been crushed because a tree fell on her, her doll mere inches away from her grasp. She died with her eyes open; almost looking into Gisela’s soul through the eyes. Gisela’s body trembled and she threw up.

“Don’t.”

Gisela looked up to see Reiner wiping blood and debris off his clothes. He picked his sleeve and turned Gisela’s head to look away, he wiped her chin and mouth off the puke. He saw the trauma in her eyes and felt guilty. But it’s what needed to be done. He kept telling himself that the more he did this the more he would understand and get used to it. It was still all new to her and he had to be strong for her. He knelt in front of her small frame. “It’s not your fault. They needed to die. We are in this together. You don’t need them. Look at me.”

Gisela looked into his eyes, away from the sadness. His eyes carried the feeling of wanting to be wanted. That was always what Reiner wanted. But they also had fear in his eyes.

“Stop acting like you’re in control when I know how sick you feel. I know how afraid you are Reiner.”

He paused and took a look at his hands and others surrounding him. “You’re right. But I made a promise to Marcel.”

They joined the other citizens arriving at the food reserves. The master of disguise was needed in this mission. People needed to see four hungry, depressed children that survived the fall of their homes, not mass murderers.

Annie was only able to fetch two loaves. “Alright, who's the most hungry?”

“You girls should eat, you’re more feeble.” Bertholdt sat on a crate, pointing to Gisela and Annie.

Annie tsked, moving a bang from her eyes, “who says girls are more feeble? I recall kicking your ass all those times in training.”

“You guys can eat it, I’m not hungry.” Gisela sat on the other crate and saw the chaos of the crowds. A boy caught her interest. He had dark brown hair, tan skin, and light blue green eyes. He was having bread shoved in his mouth and he seemed to have such a strong personality to him. If only Gisela felt so strongly about her motive and her placement in this life.

“You really should eat, you need your energy after all you did.” Annie broke all the loaves in half and shared it amongst the four of you. “It’s not much but at least it's something.”

Gisela sighed, “you’re right. Thanks.”

After that day there was land given to only a few refugees but there were too many of them. Luckily the four of them had a piece of land that was enough until further inching themselves within society. Through that whole span each day was getting easier and easier living with the lies and day by day Gisela felt more at sure with herself and knowing that she could fulfill this mission. Pills and alcohol helped the pain and ease the thoughts. She taught herself to put a gap between what she came here to do and feelings. She told herself every day that nobody else mattered except her family and Reiner. She trained her brain to not care, to not have strings attached or any love for anything. It was all a play, all a rehearsal for when the curtain would fall. She was readying herself for that fall. Everyday she educated herself more on these scums. What they liked, wanted, needed, craved for, and what they craved more than ever in their life was freedom.

She trained her body as if it were her last day, barely getting sleep. The face of her mother haunting her every night making her get up at three in the morning to do pushups or sit ups. Not only was her mind getting stronger but also her body. Even Reiner would make jokes noticing the muscles that would appear. The six pack that formed on her stomach. Her thighs growing tight and firm, her arms growing stronger. The sweat growing on her forehead longer.

With her body growing her relationship with Reiner also changed. They no longer were the tiny children that didn’t understand anatomy or the air between two people. Reiner and Gisela’s relationship was of being flirty, sharing a few kisses here and there, trying to be a couple but then yelling at each other and breaking it up and realizing maybe this isn’t right a million times. Even Bertholdt and Annie were getting tired of their outbursts. But each time they made up to be friends only and then the cycle started where the feelings came in the way and they wanted to be more. They would tease each other, especially Reiner. They were each other's best friends. Gisela was like one of the boys, loud, obnoxious, burping all the time, Reiner would get a look at her and smirk thinking he taught her well. When Reiner looked at her he felt at home and that everything was going to be okay. Her nightmares continued and each time Reiner would come to her room and hold her, let her cry into his arms. She felt he was the only person that knew her pain.

Gisela understood many things in life and for once she understood her life here, she understood why she was born and chosen.

It was the following year and in order to get closer to finding the founding titan the four became part of the 104th cadet corps.

“Are you ready to train more?” Gisela nudged Reiner, eyebrow raised.

“What do you mean train more? This is going to be a new but scary experience honestly.” Reiner spoke as if he was a different person. As if he didn’t have a life outside of the walls.

“Reiner?” Gisela placed her hand on his shoulder, steadying him. He looked fine on the outside but Gisela knew the issues were inside, his mind. She knew this was becoming disastrous to him, he was starting to have almost two personalities, two lives, two worlds, two people. Gisela tried to tell Annie or Bertholdt, they saw it too but there was nothing they could do.

All that Gisela could do was smile as they made their way to the first day of training.

note: again ty y’all sm!!!! If u liked it lmk and this is kinda new for me cuz I usually don’t post my ocs stories here or much at all but I’m rlly excited for y’all to see her and for y’all to know this oc of mine and hopefully accept her ❤️

Taglist: @witchofinterest @chlobenet @eddysocs @fpxloomis @whctsherncme-archive @ocfairygodmother @fandomchick80 @ocappreciationtag

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qserasera · 3 years ago

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Tagged: by no one, but saw this meme on another person’s page and was trying to hype myself up to write more fic so :’‘))

Rules: List the first lines of the last ten (10) stories you published. Look to see any patterns you notice yourself, and see if anyone else notices any. Then tag some friends.

i. The time of slight snow had arrived in Liyue. - from chapter 1 of i know you belonged from somewhere far

ii. Does it count as theft, Childe wonders, to take something that was promised? - from perfect tender iii. For most of Liyue Harbor, the time just after youshi was a time of ease. The sun had just ducked down from the sky—and so followed many of the workers and sailors and shopkeepers from their labors, the conversation turning swiftly from production problems and profits to dinner delicacies and evening leisure, the new storyteller sagas and music performances of the month. - from along the wild geese, my heart flies iv. The streets beneath his dark boots are bathed in gold, the edges of the stones ember bright. A softer contrast to the almost severe silhouette of the man cutting through it, though the light seems to love him all the same—lingering off his rings, the polish of his buttons. The ends of his hair—gold-veined against the line of his jaw, the black fall of his ponytail. - from chapter 1 of slow embers v. Many things are whispered about the Imperial Noble Consort. "A foreigner," some say. "A spy," says another. "An indulgence," others mutter, in darker tones. "A dangerous distraction." - from chapter 1 of a thousand gold, a thousand pearls vi. Sometimes, Zhongli truly admires humanity's capacity for composure. After the departure of the Signora, and that of the strange traveler—who had drifted out the bank door with a considering look in their eyes, gold hair stirred up by a flapping loop from their friend, Paimon—the rest of Northland Bank had picked up their usual daily hum of noise. - from one kind of longing, two places of sorrow vii. "Akira," Goro calls, one hand already reaching out automatically towards the figure in front of him. Akira half-turns from his spot standing atop the park bench, his feet on tiptoe. Snow dusts his glasses, the crown of his head. His blue scarf, which had twisted and turned in the wind during their stroll, is nearly falling off his shoulders. - from caliology viii. "Have you heard? They say that artist, you know the one that was a special guest of that museum—" "Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah—Madarame, right? How could any seasoned critic have missed what he was doing? So much for their so-called refined taste and experienced eyes—" - from an arrow, a dart, a flare in the dark ix. Once upon a time there was a maiden.

She was not powerful, or magical, or wealthy. But what did this maiden have then? This maiden was fair of face, a beauty in the way that a sunrise is beautiful. - from wishes wisely expounded

x. There is a trolley. There are two tracks.

One track has nine people tied to it. None of them whose names or faces you know.

The other track only holds one. No one that you know, no one truly important. A nobody. - from closing speed

oh hmmm....looks like i pretty much favor detailed scenic descriptions when i can get away with it, or just dropping a reader right in with dialogue ahahaha...u can tell what fandom i’ve mostly been writing for from those first three fics listed...

tagging no one specifically for this, but you can do this meme if you like!!

#memeity meme #long post

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firemblem-fics · 4 years ago

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SFW alphabet. | seteth

-> Pairing: Seteth x GN!Reader

-> Warnings: None

-> Genre: Fluff, Headcanons

-> A/N: this was chosen by a poll on my discord server except i gave no context in the poll so this is for y’all :) also uh im sorry if i’m not active in the next week, i rlly just had the absolute worst nervous breakdown ive had in a long while LMAO so uh ya might stay away from the internet for a while

warning, long post.

A -> Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

with seteth, affection STAYS private. it will never ever be displayed out in the open, especially not around the students. he prefers to keep personal relationships out of professional life

when he does show affection, though, it’s super slow and gentle. he always hugs you from behind and just sways side to side, pressing little kisses against your temple and cheek while you lean i to his embrace and close your eyes.

B -> Begin (How did the relationship begin?)

it didn’t really have a solid beginning. you just kind of wormed your way into seteth and flayn’s hearts unknowingly. when he asked to court you, you were super super hesitant because you didn’t want to replace his late wife. he assured you that she’d want him and flayn to be happy and that she’d 100% approve of you.

you still have your doubts, but seteth is always there to reassure you.

C -> Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How do they cuddle?)

cuddling is saved for nights or early mornings on a day off. seteth is always itching to get up and get things done, so it’s a little on the tougher side to get him to stay. eventually he caves and lays in.

you cuddle facing each other, your head tucked underneath his chin and his legs entangling yours. his hand that lays underneath you plays with the ends of your hair while the other rests gently on your thigh, which is hiked over his hip.

D -> Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How good are they at cooking and cleaning?)

seteth’s thoughts rarely every go astray, but when they do, he imagines what life would be like, just retiring from the monastery and living a nice life with you. he’d like to settle down eventually, but not any time soon

he’s super good at doing his part in chores and duties! of course he is, but he’s very very reliable and does things when asked. it’s nice

E -> Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

he would sit you down and explain his reasonings and such. it hurts him, definitely, but he does well at hiding it. until you leave his office, that is.

F -> Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quickly would they want to get married?)

not any time soon, as said earlier. seteth really will not stop his obligations towards the monastery and to fodlan. he wouldn’t have time nor would he want a very extravagant wedding, either. a simple ceremony would suffice.

G -> Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

physically, seteth is the epitome of a soft, romantic man. his touches make you melt and he’s always trying to keep you comfortable and happy. if you’re content, hes content.

emotionally, not as much. seteth has trouble sympathizing with some things. he’s used to pushing his feelings aside for the sake of fulfilling a duty or doing something, so he struggles sometimes to understand why someone else can’t do the same. give him time, though, and he’ll get better at comforting

H -> Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

seteth’s hugs are firm and warm. they’re always like a passionate embrace, as if it would be the last time he’d ever touch you

seteth really enjoys hugs and physical affection with you, but as i said earlier, it’s always behind closed doors. sometimes he calls you to his office just so you can sit in his lap while he holds you.

I -> I Love You (How fast do they say the L-word?)

NOT fast. seteth is kind of in denial that he even had feelings for you at first until flayn pointed it out, so it’s rather hard for him to wrap his head around the fact that he loves you.

he does say it first though, as you’re half asleep, making you wonder if you even heard it correctly. you did.

J -> Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

seteth doesn’t get jealous, really. there’s really nobody around to even like, make him jealous. he knows that a bunch of weird ass teenagers like sylvain aren’t going to actually come in between his and your relationship. honestly, most people in the monastery probably don’t even know that you’re both in a relationship.

if he is jealous, he stays relatively nonchalant about it, asking you to help him with a task somewhere else to take you away from the person

K -> Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

seteth’s kisses are very loving and passionate. every single one of them are full of adoration, even the little pecks. they never fail to warm up your entire body as everything melts away around you

he loves to kiss your neck. not just for more intimate reasons, but because he absolutely adores your giggles as his beard tickles your skin

this only happens when your relationship has been going on for a while, but seteth really enjoys it when you kiss his ears. they’re super sensitive and they always tinge as red as his cheeks when you kiss them.

L -> Little Ones (How are they around children?)

seteth is super good around his own child, of course, but he doesn’t so so hot around other children. theyre often too rambunctious for his liking, but he’ll tolerate them enough to entertain them sometimes.

M -> Mornings (How are mornings spent with them?)

three words. soft, soft, and soft

you usually either wake up in the same position that you fell asleep in, or you’re spooning. seteth’s always the big spoon, no acceptions. if you’re spooning, he kisses your shoulders and the back of your head until you wake up enough to turn over and give him an actual kiss.

N -> Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

also soft, but a little less.

seteth is always so busy during the day that when he lays in bed, he falls asleep almost instantaneously. if you want to stay up and talk or cuddle, he’ll try his hardest, but please don’t be upset with him if he accidentally dozes off. he’s a hard worker

O -> Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything at once or wait to reveal things slowly?)

this depends on who you are. if you’re the professor, you more than likely already know everything by the time you get in a relationship with him

if you’re not, then he trusts you enough to catch you up on most things in the early weeks of your relationship. sometimes there’s a little tidbit that he may have forgotten to mention in the talk that comes up later on, but that’s really it

P -> Patience (How easily angered are they?)

seteth has the patience of a saint

hehe

but no, literally. very rarely does he get irritated or impatient with you. you know how he is and know how he likes things to happen or be done, so you do them. kind of like in the Domestic headcanon, he does his part so you try your hardest to do yours. he doesn’t ever have a reason to be impatient with you and is actually rather understanding now that he knows how you function as well

Q -> Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

seteth remembers everything. literally everything. you’d think in his 1000+ years of life, he’d be an old ass man with shit memory, but no. to seteth, you and flayn are his number one priority and he’d never forget a thing about yall.

R -> Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

seteth’s favorite memory is when he accidentally walked in on you hanging out flayn. you two weren’t doing much other than reading and talking about your books, but it warmed his heart to see his two favorite people bonding

S -> Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

insanely protective, but like in things that matter. if you’re doing something that could get you hurt, he’s in defense mode trying to get you to safety. if you’re in battle, he’s sure to always know where you are just in case.

he’s not one to appreciate being protected- he feels like he failed to protect his people in the past, so to be the protected instead of the protector makes him a little iffy- but he’ll always admit that he needed the protection and will always show his gratitude

count how many times i said protect in that second paragraph wow

T -> Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, etc?)

seteth is romantic. he’s not much for physical gifts, but the memories and sentiment and feelings are so real and present that you really don’t need material things to know that he loves you

of course he does give you gifts, like a pretty bouquet of flowers that he saw in the greenhouse, or a necklace or something from the market that reminded him of you

U -> Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

seteth tends to forget to slow down and take a break every once in a while. he’s constantly finding tasks to do around the monastery and doing things to help rhea that he often neglects his own well being. you always remind him and try your best to help him out, but he never really breaks that habit

V -> Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks? Do your looks bother them?)

seteth is rather concerned about how he’s seen in the public eye. how could he not? he’s a very prim and proper man. this, however, doesnt extend to you as much.

he doesn’t expect you to dress up to the nines every day just to be seen around him or whatever. he may be like “darling, are you sure you want to be walking around the monastery in your pajamas?” but the minute you’re like “hell yeah” he lets you be.

W -> Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

this is a tough one, because i feel like seteth would do just fine on his own and would still feel relatively whole. but there would always be like this tiny little sliver of him that constantly misses you when you’re not around

X -> Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

seteth has a secret, super playful side that only comes out when you’re alone in your shared bedroom. he likes to play wrestle you and mess around just to hear your laugh and see you smile.

Y -> Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, in general or in a partner?)

in a partner, seteth wouldn’t really like someone who’s obnoxiously loud and blatantly disrespectful. it’s one of his biggest pet peeves and he wouldn’t date someone like that.

this doesn’t pertain to people who like, don’t realize their volume or is disrespectful to someone who deserves the disrespect, though. he doesn’t like just overly rude and jnconfiderate people who are like that for no reason

Z -> Zzz (What’s a sleep habit of theirs? Does it change around a partner?)

seteth is the lightest sleeper in the history of the world. he’s always on guard for something to happen. i dont blame him, but sometimes even the littlest bumps in the night wake him up almost completely. don’t ever try to sneak out of bed because chances are, he woke up from you just opening your eyes.

if anything, this habit becomes even more prominent when you start sharing a bed with him. he’s just afraid of losing you is all 😃

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem imagines #fire emblem three houses x reader #x reader #fire emblem three houses imagines #headcanons #seteth #seteth x reader #seteth imagines #saint cichol #sfw alphabet #lay writes

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vintagedolan · 4 years ago

Text

mixtape | track one

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

Six. There were six different lines, tiny plastic tubes that hung down from the side of the bed, making the shape of a U in the air. Too many, but still, one less than yesterday.

“Is it alive?”

“No.”

“Is it a vegetable?”

“That’s oddly specific.”

“But is it a vegetable though?”

“No.”

“Aw shit.”

Indiana looked up from her hands then, brows furrowing at the small figure who had huddled herself under the thin cotton covers. You’d think, with how expensive hospital bills were that they could at least afford a real fucking blanket for their patients. Especially the kids.

“C’mon now, watch the language.” She said. It was a half-hearted reprimand at best.

“You told me I could curse!”

“I told you that you could curse about your meds, there’s a difference.”

“Bullshit. I should be able to curse about anything I want to.”

“Bekah.” It was her mom voice – an instinct.

“Indiana.” The younger girl mimicked the tone as best she could.

There was a beat of silence then – well, as silent as a hospital room ever could get, that is. The monotonous song of machinery beeps, the muffled car horns outside on the streets, and nurses footsteps outside never truly faded.

“If the nurses hear you cursing in here they’re gonna say I’m a bad influence.” It was almost time for rounds and meds, 7pm on the dot - they’d be there any minute.

“Speak of the devil,” Bekah grumbled, eyes flitting to the door that was swinging open, the nurse bumping against it, her cart hitting the walls right on schedule.

“Hi miss Bekah, how’re we feeling this evening?”

“Shi-“

Indiana threw her a look, the kind she imagined her mom would give if she were there. Bekah sunk back into the pillow, rolling her eyes.

“-very. Shivery. It’s cold in here.”

She earned a thumbs up for that one and a wink that made her smile.

The nurse – Jennifer, Indiana realized – was as sweet as ever. She was one of the nicer ones, always let things slide, always let her stay 30 minutes after visiting hours if she really wanted to.

“That’s probably just the meds from earlier darling, they always make you a bit chilly.”

“Can’t wait to take more.” Bekah sighed, wiggling up in the bed and moving her shirt down, her collarbone prominent under her dark skin. Next to it sat a small bulge, surrounded by medical tape, two small tubes peeking out from underneath. They’d done a good job at making it subtle, unnoticeable if you weren’t looking for it – Indiana’s mom’s port had never looked like that. She wondered if it was because the technology had improved in four years, or if they were just more careful about it when the patient was young.

Because it’s okay for an adult to have cancer, but a kid? That’s where we draw the fuckin’ line.

“Is it food?”

“What?” Jennifer asked, quirking an eyebrow as she continued to hang the bags on the IV pole.

“None of your business. Indiana, is it a food?”

“Now now,” Jennifer tutted.

“No, it’s not a food.” Indiana sighed, knowing better than to try and keep Bekah’s attitude in check. That was a battle she’d lose before it began. “Keep trying.”

She paused while the nurse took her time in getting her meds set and ready, attaching them to her port. She didn’t even flinch at the needle, the brown skin of her forehead as smooth and perfect as ever, not a worry line in sight. The game picked up as soon as Jennifer walked back out of the room.

“Is it something you- something you wear?” That was always the first sign that the meds entered her system – the ‘brain fog’ as she called it. Bekah sucked in a deep breath, her seemingly tiny chest rising up as she tried to settle herself.

Indiana’s eyes flickered over to the IV bag – the clear liquid looked harmless enough as it dripped down. She knew it was anything but – just Bekah’s hair was enough to attest to that. She wore it in a wrap mostly these days, but she’d seen what was underneath. Her beautiful curls had started to fall out only a few weeks prior, and it was only a matter of time before they were gone completely. If she had to guess from what she’d seen when she fixed the knot of her wrap, the last of it would be gone after today.

“Yes, it’s something you wear.”

“So it’s clothes.”

“Not necessarily. You wear other things,” she explained, scooting her chair a bit closer to the bedside, reaching a hand out.

In the three years that Indiana had known Bekah, she was always amazed at how strong she was. It had impressed her from the first time she’d mustered up the courage to sign up for the volunteer program at the hospital two blocks away from her college apartment. Bekah was twelve then, a spunky young girl with big headphones over her ears and thick rubber bracelets on her thin wrists.

“Stop looking at me like that,” was what she’d chosen as an introduction. She’d looked up at Indiana with accusatory eyes, wide and dark and annoyed in the middle of the overly colorful pediatric wing hallway.

“Like what?”

“Like I have cancer. Don’t treat me like I’m sick and I won’t act like it. Capeesh?”

She’d only been able to swallow and nod, somewhat embarrassed but mostly just in awe.

So, when Indiana got matched with her as her ‘buddy’, she tried her hardest to do as she’d agreed to. Or at least, she did her best to be subtle about it. She could sneak in her moments of worry at times like this, when Bekah’s eyes were scrunched closed and she didn’t bat away the hand holding hers.

“Damn. The BBJ is not making me feel very BB esque today,” she grumbled, breathing deep in through her nose. Indiana’s other hand inched towards the bedpan resting on the table – the nausea usually kicked in right about now, and her deep breathing was always a tell that her stomach was churning. BBJ stood for ‘Bad Bitch Juice’ which was just the fun term for chemo that Bekah had come up with during one of her rotations a few years back. The nurses hated it, gave Indiana dirty looks when she let her say it around them.

“Bed pan at the ready,” Indiana reassured her, making sure it was in reach in case it got to be too much.

“Just keep playing the game, it’ll distract me. What do I know so far?”

“It’s not alive, it’s not a vegetable or a food, you can wear it but it’s not clothes.”

“Makeup?”

Indiana shook her head, doing everything to avoid reacting to the way Bekah was squeezing her hand. It was so tight that she felt her bones were probably touching each other in a way they weren’t meant to.

“Shoes?”

“No.”

“Do you wear it on your head?”

“I mean… technically?”

“That’s a cop out answer.”

“Don’t dwell on it, just keep going.”

She saw it coming before it happened – the turn of Bekah’s face, the way her body jolted just barely. It’s a good thing it wasn’t her first time, or she wouldn’t have gotten the bedpan under her fast enough to catch her vomit. She held her breath, tried not to listen to the sounds of retching so she didn’t get sick herself, holding steady until Bekah’s stomach was empty and she’s laid back against the pillows, exhausted. Indiana followed the motions, got up and walked to the bathroom, dumped the contents down the toilet and flushed it, left the plastic basin on the floor for the nurses to get later and washed her hands. By the time she made it back to the side of the bed, Bekah’s eyes were closed.

There were three marked stages of a chemo session with Bekah: the ‘this doesn’t affect me’ phase, the puke phase, and finally, the sleep phase, which seemed to be fast approaching. Even with her eyes closed she felt Indiana join her at her bedside, and she sighed in defeat.

“What was it? I don’t wanna ask more questions.”

“Earrings.”

“That’s two things, you cheated.”

She could have argued, but you just don’t argue with a kid with cancer if you don’t have to. It’s an unspoken rule.

“You’re right. You win.”

Bekah seemed content enough with that, but her eyebrows scrunched up again like they always did when she was focusing.

“Where do you get earrings in your teeth?”

“Huh?”

“Earrings in teeth… there was a guy… yesterday… earrings.”

Indiana just held her hand as she rambled, drifting off as she turned her head into her pillow. Not that she knew personally, but she’d never seen anyone be comfortable during a chemo treatment. But there was a peace that took over when their body decided that it was too much to handle in the realm of consciousness and they drifted off into their dreams.

So she was happy to look at the bed after she picked up her backpack and see that Bekah’s was asleep. She closed the door on her way out, moved to the nurse’s desk to sign out like she always did. The nurses always smiled at her, sitting back there in their colorful scrubs and big headbands. This time, it was Valentina who beamed up at her.

“Indiana, honey, how’s school going?”

“It’s going.” It’s killing me. “Just one semester left to go!”

“Don’t you overwork yourself now, we need you around here,” she threw a wink with her long lashes, opening her mouth to say something else before her phone rang. “You have a good one honey, we’ll see you next week.” Valentina picked it up, another call to another room for another sick kid.

With as many times as Indiana had made the walk, she was pretty sure she could do it with her eyes closed. Straight, past the forest murals, press the button on the left to open the doors. Then it was the ocean hallway on the left- the blues were peaceful, little sea turtles and fish floating on the walls. At the end, by the jellyfish, was the last door of the pediatric wing. Somehow, it always felt colder past that point, inside the ‘real hospital’. The nurse’s scrubs were plain blue there, the walls taupe and bland with paintings of trees and lakes instead of Winnie the Pooh and Dory. Indiana’s shoes squeaked against the polished floor on her way to the elevator, picking up her pace. She didn’t like this part. It was too familiar, too many memories of walking down the same hallway for much different reasons. Past that it was down two floors, out and to the right to get to the front doors.

As soon as she walked out into the New York city street, it was a breath of fresh air; if you could ever consider city air fresh. Still, she always preferred the smell of exhaust and cigarettes over the bleach that stung her nose inside the hospital. And if she sniffed hard enough and the wind was right, she swore she could smell Jet’s Coffee all the way from the small store that resided three blocks down the road.

Want anything from Jet’s? She texted Charlie, hoping for a quick response from her sister as she hurried down the sidewalk, pulling her shirt sleeves down over her hands in a bid to ward off the brisk late September air.

Nah, Devin’s making dinner. Should be done by the time you get here.

Also, where tf is your strainer?

Bottom cabinet by the oven, she answered, shaking her head.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love her sister. She did, with her whole heart. The same went for her sweet almost-brother-in-law Devin- they were both supportive pillars in her life, always there with a listening ear, a warm hug, or life advice.

But god damn did she miss having her apartment to herself sometimes. The peace that came over her when she walked into her cozy apartment, saw the rest of Chelsea through the high windows, her view over the river? Unmatched. It was still there - the fog over the river in the cool autumn mornings, the bustling streets of people wrapped up in their coats - but now, her sister was there too, catching her at the door with the latest story of the day before she could even let out a breath. Charlie could never understand how her younger sister wanted to live alone in college, wanted a place to herself ever since she even knew it was an option. Indiana was the opposite of her in a lot of ways- the older of the two was a social butterfly of sorts who always surrounded herself with people, with loud voices and louder personalities that could keep up with her. She was wild - dropped out of college after her first semester, spent her last dime on a camera so she could grow a photography business from the ground up.

Their mom always said that Indiana was the calm to Charlie’s storm, her little angel who hardly ever cried, who just fit into the family like a perfect final puzzle piece, completing the picture. The puzzle was long forgotten now, disassembled in a box in the attic somewhere collecting dust over the last five years. She didn’t have to wonder if it would make her mom sad - she knew that it would be devastating for her if she were still there to see what had become of the Cross clan.

“There she is, the myth, the legend, thee Indiana Jamie Cross!”

Caught up in her mind, Indiana didn’t even realize that her autopilot route home had taken her all the way into the door of Jet’s, and she found herself in the familiar lobby when she came to. The walls were charcoal gray, with the delicate little single-line white flowers painted on them that she remembered them putting up a few years ago, back when she worked there. Her old manager, Patrick, beamed at her from behind the counter, wide smile framed out by his ever growing hair.

“What’s she gonna get today, wait don’t tell me, don’t tell me. Today is a… caramel macchiato with one less pump of vanilla? Hot?” He mused, raising his eyebrows in question.

“Oatmilk, then yes, you got it.”

“Of course I was gonna give you oatmilk, what do I look like, an amateur?” He scoffed, shaking his head as she went to reach for her wallet. “It’s on the house today.”

“You can’t give me my coffee on the house every time Patrick, it’s bad for business.”

“It’s my business, so shush and go wait at the end of the bar like a good customer,” he rolled his eyes, sending the scribbled cup down the line. She rolled her eyes and dropped a few one’s in the tip jar before she went over to her favorite chair, the big blue one by the windows where she could people watch while she waited. She always wondered what people did in small towns while they waited for things, without the bustling streets outside full of people in their own little worlds.

Her phone buzzed in her lap. Marty.

Hey girlie, are you busy tomorrow? We’ve got a new orientee who needs the run down, and nobody does it better than you!

Marty’s speciality was buttering people up. Which explained why Buddies had over 200 volunteers like Indiana - with Marty in charge, it was hard to say no, even if she had planned on spending a chilled out day tomorrow with her sister and Devin.

Fine by me, just let me know what time

Awesome. He didn’t give me a specific time so I’ll just give him your number if you’re good with that.

She sent back a thumbs up as her name was called at the counter, got her coffee and headed out the door. It was another block to get to her apartment, and when she got there the elevator ride up to the 18th floor was almost as long as the walk. She didn’t mind though. It was her own little welcome home ritual that she’d grown fond of over the last few years of living there.

As she predicted earlier, when she opened the door, her usually peaceful space was in a bit of chaos. There were four bowls out on the counter, measuring cups everywhere, two pans out in addition to whatever smelled so good in the oven.

“Don’t start Indy, I’m gonna clean it, I promise.” Charlie appeared around the corner, already on the defense of the look she knew she was going to get. It felt a lot like Indiana was the older sister despite the three years that Charlie had on her.

“I didn’t say anything,” Indiana mumbled under her breath, clearing a small spot on the counter and hopping up.

“It’s all in your face,” Devin teased from in front of the oven. “Scootch, unless you want me to burn you with this casserole dish.”

She grumbled and hopped down from her much too temporary spot so that he could open the oven, deciding it was probably best to leave the kitchen until everything was done.

Her kitchen was the only ‘small’ part of her apartment. The rest was plenty big, and she was proud of all she had done over the years to make it her own. The living room was cozy, with a dark gray couch and a reasonable (Charlie would say excessive) amount of decorative pillows and blankets. The shelves on the wall had a few house plants - fake ones, of course, and picture frames that had moved with her each time she called a new place home. The white frame that contained an old picture of her and Charlie as babies, white-blonde hair wispy as they played on the swings in their backyard. The most recent addition was the rose gold frame, a picture of her, Devin and Charlie at their engagement last July in Zion National Park - she could practically feel the heat of the sun every time she looked at it. The last frame stood alone on the smaller shelf, a wooden frame with a small heart carved in the corner. Inside, a black and white picture of her and her mom. She was about one in it, in a little crewneck sweatshirt and tennis shoes, holding onto her mom’s hands as she walked, both of them beaming. She’d been told by so many people over the years that she had “Nicole’s smile”, and she tried her hardest to not cry nowadays if anyone ever mentioned it.

“You know, our parents weren’t glassmakers, I can’t see through you,” Charlie grumbled from her spot on the couch, gesturing to the TV that her sister was blocking.

“You know, this is my house, you could just leave,” she countered, offering her fakest of smiles.

“You know, Dad pays the rent so it’s not technically yours.”

“Alright, dinner is ready, dinner is ready,” Devin called out, knowing that Charlie had already stepped one toe over the line, desperately trying to keep her from throwing herself fully over the edge.

Charlie popped up to her feet, unfazed by the glare that followed her all the way to the island as she went on to scoop out her pasta.

Indiana didn’t have the energy to even think about her dad, much less talk about him. Kenneth Cross was a good father when she was little. He was attentive, taught her how to play basketball, how to ride her bike without training wheels. On a paper list, he checked off most of the dad boxes. And then his wife died, and he decided the time was nigh to abandon ship with very little regard for his 16 and 19 year old daughters. But if you asked him, he’d be sure to let you know that he took very good care of his kids, even put up his youngest in a nice New York apartment so she could go to school and not have to work a job. Taking care of things meant throwing money at them, whether it was at work or at home. His best, and only, sign of affection was the direct deposit that hit Indiana’s bank account on the 31st of every month.

Needless to say, he was a sensitive subject.

She bit back the words she really wanted to spit out and made her way into the kitchen, grabbing her bowl a bit more aggressively than she needed to. As soon as she found her spot back on the counter she stabbed into the soft noodles and shoved them in her mouth, proceeding to burn the shit out of her tongue.

Lovely.

Devin made small talk as best he could around the awkward tension - he was an only child, and anytime the two sisters fought he tried to fill in the void with anything he could. It always baffled him how the two of them could be pissed one moment, and then back to normal a few seconds later.

“Wanna go shopping tomorrow? And don’t say you have school shit, it’s a Sunday.” Charlie asked.

“A, I always have school shit, and B, I can’t anyways, I’ve got an orientation to do for Buddies.”

“There’s no way you actually have that much school work to do, I think you’re just trying to avoid us,” she countered.

“CJ she’s gonna be a doctor, that shit ain’t easy,” Devin piped up, eager to boost his almost sister-in-law up. Indy tried to ignore the little pang of jealousy she always felt when he called her sister that. Charlie Jo. CJ. She’d had her own fair share of nicknames over the years, shortened little versions of her name that everyone liked to use. But Devin was the only one who was allowed to call Charlie CJ, and there was something about the intimacy of it that had Indiana wishing someone was there to give her a cute nickname, just for them.

She held out until Charlie started in on the dishes that she promised to do and then she was headed to her room, social battery depleted. Despite her sister’s doubts, she did always have some form of school work that she could be working on, slowly chipping away at the constant stream of assignments and notes. She liked to break it down into sections, tackling a certain class each night of the week. Saturdays were her ‘easy’ nights, reserved for reviewing her medical terminology notes and quizzing herself on new terms.

As nerdy as it seemed to anyone else, she actually found it fun. 10 year old her would have thought it was the coolest thing that she actually knew what choleodechojunostomy meant, though she was pretty sure she was never going to actually need to know.

She was halfway through the abbreviations portion, stuck on the ‘G’ of esophagogastroduodenoscopy when her phone buzzed against her leg. She expected to see a text from Charlie asking her to join in on whatever movie they were watching in the living room, but instead she was met with a new number and an unfamiliar area code - 818.

Probably spam. She left it alone, moving back to her cards, flipping between as she mumbled them quietly to herself.

“PRN. Pro re nata.”

Buzz

“EEG. Electroencephalography. TIA”

Buzz

“TIA. Transient-”

Buzz

“Jesus,” she huffed, grabbing her phone and swiping it open to her texts, all from that same 818 number.

Hey, Marty gave me your number, I’m your new orientee :)

My name is Grayson btw, probably should have started with that

She told me to figure out a time with you but I’m p flexible so just let me know

And idk how to get to the pediatric part of the hosp so if you could meet me somewhere else and show me how to get there that would be awesome

Why he couldn’t have sent it all in one text she had no idea, but at least he was nice. She typed back quickly.

Hey! I’m Indiana. We can meet by the front doors if that’s easier, how about 9:30?

She didn’t even have time to pick up her next flashcard before the typing bubble popped back up.

Early riser, I like it. 9:30 is chill, I’ll see you then. Have a good night :)

You too :), she answered, quickly saving his contact as ‘Grayson’ before putting her phone back down on her comforter and diving back into her flashcards. She had 200 more to get through by the end of the night, and all she really wanted to do was get under her covers and go to sleep. By the time she reached the end of the stack, the definitions were just as hard to understand as their latin based counterparts. As soon as she flipped over arthralgia to reveal joint pain, she was moving the pile to her desk, pulling on a t-shirt and curling up in bed.

..............................................................................................................................

Indiana had never been a breakfast eater. She was always too eager to get to school, occasionally running out the door with a granola bar in hand at most at her mom’s request. The trend continued as she got older, though now she used her morning coffee as sustenance for the first few hours of the day. Which was why she found herself walking right back through the glass doors of Jet’s again, a mere 12 hours after her last visit. It smelled like fresh beans and vanilla soy as soon as she made in over the threshold - a comforting smell, familiar and warm. Patrick beamed at her from behind the espresso bar. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a day off.

“I’m paying today, no arguing,” she called out, giving him a serious look until he mouthed ‘fine’ at her over the bar. Satisfied, she pulled out her phone, surprised to see a text. Grayson.

I’m by the front doors on the left. I know im early so no rush :)

She checked the time at the top of her phone. 9:10.

I’m getting coffee and then I’ll be there

Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, contemplating. Was it weird to buy coffee for someone you’d never met? She sent another text anyway.

Want anything?

The bubbles popped back up as she stepped up in line.

Biggest cup of the strongest stuff they’ve got please. I’ll shoot you a Venmo for it

She liked his response and slid her phone back in her pocket before she stepped up to the counter. The barista was a new face, someone that had been hired after she had left.

“What can I get started for you?”

“Can I do a 16 ounce vanilla oat milk latte and a 20 ounce dark roast please?”

“Absolutely, that’ll be-”

“Give her the drip for free,” Patrick interjected. “We don’t charge past employees for drip coffee.”

The barista looked a bit flustered but took the dark roast off anyways, quickly spouting off the total and taking the cash that Indiana handed her. She turned around and poured the dark roast, passing it over with a smile. An older man was sitting in the blue chair when Indiana made her way to the other end of the store, so she settled by the bar instead, watching Patrick pump syrup and steam milk in a bit of a sequenced dance. She missed being behind the bar sometimes, but not enough to justify going back and getting talked down to by shitty customers.

He finished her latte in record time, only having a spare moment to blow her a kiss before he was right back to the next drink. She didn’t mind - the thought of Grayson waiting on her made her nervous. She tried to remind herself that she wasn’t running late. It wasn’t her fault that he liked to show up twenty minutes early to things and she only liked to show up ten minutes early. Ten minutes was reasonable and showed dedication - twenty was a bit excessive.

The cups kept her hands warm for the three blocks to the hospital, her pace a bit quicker than usual. She kept her eyes peeled for someone who looked like a Grayson once she made it. A tall, lanky man passed by her, headed towards the doors, but he didn’t seem like he was looking for anyone. She remembered the text. Front doors, to the left.

Sure enough, there was someone sitting alone.

He took up about half of the bench, his shoulders broad under a charcoal gray sweater that went well with the olive green of his pants. He looked well put together - a bit intimidating, but nice enough to send someone a have a good night text. He looked like he could be a Grayson. He must have felt her watching him, because he lifted his eyes from his phone and looked directly at her, taking in the two coffee cups in her hands with a smile.

“Indiana?”

His voice was deep, a bit commanding. It made her hesitate for some reason, panic just barely. “Uh yeah, that’s me.” Stupid.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Grayson.”

#mixtape #I CAN'T BELIEVE IM ACTUALLY POSTING THIS WOW #please let me know what you think pls pls pls im so NERVOUS #grayson dolan #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan fanfiction #dolan twins #dolan twins fanfiction #lynds writes

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jungcity · 5 years ago

Text

love, eternal. | iv

genre: reincarnation!au, fallen angel!au

[supernatural-ish, angst, use of blunts and intoxicants, extra asshole jaehyun, smut, vulgar words]

pairing: jung jaehyun x reader

words: 9k

notes: it’s been really hard for me to write these past few days. i don’t know if i’m writing sense into this fic. but i do hope that you enjoy this chapter! please leave some feedbacks (bad or good is appreciated! :) ) it would really mean a lot to me! thank you so much! also, this chapter is unedited, so forgive the errors xx

part i | part ii | part iii | part v

“There is a halo in your mouth

and I like how it burns.”

— Sincerely, Joanna

You lay in bed awake, the kiss you shared with Jaehyun occupying almost all the space in your brain. Tugging on your hair, you forced yourself to sleep and not let yourself drown into the feeling— for the kiss still lingers on your lips, making your chest swell in unbelievable happiness.

The dinged of your phone pulled you out of your fantasy, you grabbed it from the nightstand and saw Soojin’s name displayed on the notification panel.

[Are u ok? R u home?]

You typed in your answer, squinting from the brightness of the screen.

[Yes. I’m home. U?]

But before you decided to keep your phone, Yuta’s caller ID flashed on the screen. A frown slid past your lips, then you slide the red button. You currently do not have the energy to deal with anyone. But you at least owe Soojin a message to let her know that you’re home safe.

You stare at the ceiling, the image of Jaehyun flashing into the white color above. Jaehyun’s lips tasted of tequila and mint— so soft against yours. Out of all the boys that you’ve kissed in your lifetime, the one you shared with Jaehyun stood amongst others. Yes, you’ve kissed boys when you were drunk or sober, but none of their kisses made you feel light yet heavy— like you were flying and drowning at the same time. It thrilled you to the bones. You subconsciously touched your lips just to feel it one last time, and just to prove yourself that it happened. Jaehyun kissed you, and you kissed him back.

The realization of how happy you were of the experience blows your mind, and that how the touch of his lips felt like a distant memory. The caress of his lips, so familiar you started to wonder if you’d ever kiss him before.

But that’s impossible, right?

Dreaming again? The voice inside you asked.

You stare at the queen size four poster bed. Roaming your eyes around the room, you saw a vanity resting at the corner in front of the gothic-styled windows, and a dresser probably bigger than the bathroom you have home is located on the side.

The thick red curtains drapes down, their edges touching the tiled floor. You spotted a vintage hand mirror on the nightstand, the glass reflecting that of a moonstone you wonder if it’s used to mirror things or just a mere display. Shrugging, you placed it back and sat on the bed.

Your butt slightly sunk into the soft mattress, allowing a soft gasp to escape your lips. The mattress was so inviting, you laid on the pillows, and the same happened to your head— it also sunk in the cushion. You could sleep forever if you wished to. For there was no one in the whole room but you.

A sudden tardiness hugged your body whole as you lay still, your mind blank from everything. Not even the kiss you shared with Jaehyun could make you think of something other than the comfort of the room. You wonder who could be the owner of such a classic and magnificent room. He or she must be sophisticated to have owned such grandiose space. Despite the somnolence, you compelled yourself to stand. The room felt suddenly eerie because of its vastness. You would’ve shivered if not for the sunlight that’s infiltrating it through the glass windows.

Roaming your eyes for the second time around, your vision caught sight of the small veranda attached to the room, making you realized that it must be located on the top floors of a house. You pulled yourself up, the cold tiled floor biting on your soles. Barefooted, you walked to the veranda, night dress swaying in every step.

Vast green fields greeted you as you pushed the door open. Tall trees standing here and there with thick foliages. There was one who bends on the veranda: making everything looked like a Romeo and Juliet’s scene.

There was an easel supporting a finished canvas. Paintbrushes and different oil pigments sat atop a table beside it. A separate table with teacups and spoons resides in the nearest corner with two chairs around it.

Everything seems like a fairytale. The whole place felt so removed from the loudness of the society. A dream you once had as a child; serenity, with only your canvas, paintbrushes and pigments beside you. Now here it is, and it felt so real, kindling an ember inside you it could start a fire. You inhaled.

You stepped closer to the canvas. The hues of it being illuminated by the sunlight made everything so marvelous. It was bright, it was alive, and it feels like your own.

“Fallen angel,” you breathed.

It was an angel, falling from the heavens. Wings splayed, like he forgot how to use them and blend with the wind. The artwork gave the impression of an unending fall. His eyes had that horror of being banished, yet when you look at the wholeness of his face, you saw the fury that lies within.

“It is indeed a fallen angel,”

You jumped and turned around to greet the voice. Heart hammering against your chest, you saw a pretty woman standing behind you. Hair black as the night, eyes as the blue of the skies— she’s the one you saw in your reflection in the mirror. How?

“I am Aurora,” She extended her hands. You looked at her outstretched hands before reluctantly taking it with your hands and shaking it. It was so soft. No callouses could be felt.

“I am… Y/N.”

Aurora smiled. You’ve never seen someone as beautiful except for Jaehyun. She looked like a goddess ready to bring peace in to the Earth. Her smooth steps enthralled you, every move of her feet towards the canvas is like a silent wave of the waters in the ocean.

“This is unfinished.”

Her voice. It could lull any crying children to sleep; so soft, so serene.

“Really? What could be missing?”

You both stare at it and you noticed that your dresses are similar to each other.

“A tear.” She smiled at you. “Will you do the honors of completing it for me?”

Even if you don’t understand a single thing, specially her favor, you nodded. What could possibly be the reason of her asking for you if she could paint it on her own? And as if she heard the voices in your mind, she turned to you.

“I… don’t have the ability to finish it anymore.”

There was sadness in her eyes which quickly reflected on you. Almost like you feel what she currently feels. So you grab the paintbrush and started to dip it on the pigments. With Aurora guiding you, she pointed where exactly to put the tear. You oblige and started painting it.

“It’s don…e.”

Where is Aurora? You searched for her with your keen eyes, but there wasn’t any trace to tell you where did she possibly go. The door is silent, a proof that no one pushed it. All that you could hear is the rustling of winds against the leaves.

You longed to touch the canvas, to feel the bumpiness of the paint against it. Hair’s breadth away, you suddenly curled your finger. It was so perfect that you’d feel ashamed to taint it with your hands, even though you touched it with brushes, it feels wrong to let your hand feel it. So you look and look at it until you drank all the details in, with a promise to recreate it once you wake up.

Three knocks, those were the sounds that woke you up out of slumber. You heard the muffled voice of your sister against the door that’s separating you from the life outside.

“There’s a delivery for you,” said she, voice a bit louder for you to hear. You told her you’re awake, and that you’d just compose yourself so she should entertain the delivery personnel for a minute.

Delivery? You rack your brain of anything, thinking of the last thing you purchased online. And that is a new drawer to keep your art materials in place.

With a creased brow, you swiftly tied your hair while still thinking of what could the delivery be. Then the realization slowly hit you, your eyes widened and you ran outside, abandoning your hair half tied into a bun.

“Good morning, miss.” The delivery boy greeted, a soft smile on his lips.

“G-good morning,” You stuttered, heart rumbling.

“We’re here to deliver the painting purchased by Mr. Jung. Is he around?” He was still smiling, eyes roaming around the living room, searching for a man who isn’t there.

You composed yourself by breathing in and out, silently wishing that Jaehyun has already handled the shipping fee.

“He’s not around. But can I… can I receive the parcel for him?” You asked, surprised that you’ve said the sentence without stuttering.

It would cause a lot of trouble if you tell them that you mistyped the address on the mail you sent their company, so it’s best that you accept the package instead of asking them to deliver it to Jaehyun’s house. And you’re certain Jaehyun would kill you one or another.

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. But yes you can, Ma’am. Just show us your valid ID so we can tell Mr. Jung that one of his relatives accepted the parcel,”

You nodded at him and walked back to your room to gather your ID. He must’ve thought that Jung Jaehyun is living in this small apartment and that you’re one of his family members. The thought almost made you laugh and you scoff. Relative? I’m not even a friend, you mumbled.

You handed him the ID then he wrote your name on some paper and on the horizontal line at the end of a separate paper he’s laid on the table. He handed you the pen, then you wrote your signature above the name. He tipped his cap, walked back to the delivery vehicle and when he came back, he’s carrying an average sized parcel. By the looks of it, you bet the canvas is of the standard size. You guided him towards the sofa, where he laid the parcel carefully.

“Thank you,” You smiled, which he answered with the same gesture, tipping his cap again and bidding his goodbyes.

“What is that?” Yuqi asked, scrutinizing the parcel with a mug of hot chocolate on one hand. Sighing, you slumped in one of the sofas, covering your face with your hands.

“I’m seriously fucked up,” You told her.

“Why? What happened?”

“That is the parcel which was supposed to be delivered to Jung Jaehyun’s. Not here. I mistyped the address because of my agitation by Yuta’s arrival,”

“That jerk really couldn’t do anything right, could he?”

Yuqi was still a baby teen when she met Yuta, but her blood did not settle good in him. She warned you about her gut feelings towards him— that he’s bad news who’d shatter your heart in pieces. Guess what, in her young age, she was right.

“He even punched Jaehyun,”

“Wow! The audacity! Jaehyun could literally throttle him,” Yuqi stated, a scoff leaving her lips.

“Jaehyun did not fight back. Brawling with Yuta must’ve seemed so pathetic to him.”

“I guess so. Rich bachelors like him does not indulge themselves to useless—”

Your phone rang all the way to the room, making you jump in your seat and literally dive for it in your drawers. Jaehyun is calling. You gulped and pray before sliding the green button.

“The fuck is this, Y/N?! One job! You had one job! And you couldn’t even do it right!”

By his shouting, you pulled your phone away from your ear. You could see the veins in his forehead protrude in your mind, adding more to your anxiety.

“I’m—”

He breathed, “I don’t need your apology.” Then paused, “Deliver that here in thirty-minutes, or else…” He breathed again, and you swear your knees started to wobble. “You know what’d happen,”

Then he hang up. You hugged your phone to your chest, recollecting the sanity Jaehyun kicked out of your body. He couldn’t expect you to arrive in his penthouse in thirty-minutes when it’s literally one hour away from your house. But he’s Jung Jaehyun, and he always gets what he wants. It doesn’t matter how you get there, you just need to get there. Thirty-minutes, you dashed for the bathroom. Half an hour isn’t even enough to scrub your body clean. Dissatisfied from the five-minute bath, you rapidly put things in your bag and settled for a hoodie and pants.

Nice, twenty-minutes left. You didn’t even have any time to dry your hair, so you comb it on the way to the bus stop with the parcel tucked in your arms. It wasn’t as heavy as you’d expected it would be, but nonetheless, it was tiring to carry it all the way to the bus stop. Luckily, there’s already a bus waiting when you get there. You climbed on to the vehicle and made yourself comfortable by listening to some music.

It’s impossible to reach his place in less than twenty-minutes. So you disregard his death threats and think about something else. And that something else is the kiss you shared. Your heart suddenly made a jump, realizing that you’re going to Jaehyun’s house. The awkwardness settled in your bones, and the fact that you’ve never been there made you wary. You have no idea what to expect; a model walking out of his house?

Jaehyun doesn’t seem really interested in the opposite sex, but then he kissed you, ravenously. You blushed at the memory of him trying to suck the breath out of you.

The hotel where his penthouse is located loomed over you. You gasped while trying to see the peak of it, so high it made your nape hurt a little. And you frowned by the realization that you need to carry the parcel all the way to the top where his penthouse is located. Blowing out air from your mouth, you walked inside the hotel.

You stare at the canvas resting beside you while you stand in the elevator, wondering what kind of art it is. You’ve never taken Jaehyun to be fond of the arts, but here he is, proving your impressions wrong again. Coincidentally, you’ve also dreamed about a painting. Its memory already printed in your mind that your finger itch to start drawing it.

You stepped outside once the elevator door dinged, carrying the parcel in your hand. There was a single door at the end of the hallway. You have no idea how to tell Jaehyun that you’re already outside, and you don’t want to risk pushing the buttons and scanners in his door, so you sent him a text message instead, hoping that he wasn’t too busy to glance at it.

The door opened, but there was no one who greeted you. Automatic doors? Can’t relate, you whispered to yourself. You pushed the door wider, peeking your head on to the space. The whole house is as silent as a mausoleum. One word to describe the interiors? Magnificent. An expensive looking bachelor pad for a bachelor such as Jung Jaehyun. Everything in sight seems so modernized yet minimal. The hues of the furnitures blends in well with the color of the floor and walls. The ceiling is also high, and of course, a floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

You stepped your foot inside, expecting Jaehyun to appear in the corner to throttle you of your incompetence. Shaking the bad thoughts away, you completely entered the penthouse.

“Sir?” You called against the emptiness of it.

“Jaehyun! Faster!”

Chills ran down your whole body as you heard something erotic. It isn’t what you think it is, right? But the scattered clothes splayed on the sofas and floors told you that it is indeed what you think it is. Another grunt echoed of the whole floor, then a scream followed it. You couldn’t move your body. Maybe you wanted to run, or you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. Because, Jesus Christ, you couldn’t stand and watch a live porn!

The moans and the grunts halted. And you still stood there, palms sweating with your forehead despite the ventilations.

“You’re here,”

“Holy mother of rectangles!” You jumped, your hand flying to your chest.

“I said thirty minutes,” Jung Jaehyun stated while leaning on the door frame with a glass of liquor in hand. He’s wearing a thin white long-sleeves, its fabric clinging on to his sweat beaded body, accentuating his chest and muscles. You thank God that he’s wearing pajamas, because let’s be honest, you’re not ready to see a limp dick today. God really do have mercy.

A girl slid her hands around Jaehyun’s chest. Despite her bedraggled hair, she is much fully clothed— maybe the clothes on the floors all belongs to Jaehyun. But you’re sure you’ve seen a female underwear— so the girl is not wearing her panties inside that body-fitted dress? You gulped down the thoughts. People could be really wild sometimes.

Wet, sloppy kisses filled the whole floor. You could only assume that the girl was giving open-mouthed kisses to Jaehyun’s back.

“Until next time baby,” She cooed, grabbing his crotch— grabbing his crotch?!— in front of you. She made it seem like there’s nobody standing there with them. You wanted to gag, but there was something in Jaehyun’s eyes as he looked at you while the girl literally shoved her hand inside his pajamas, doing God-knows-what with his penis.

The intensity of his stare suddenly makes it harder for you to breath. You felt something in your stomach uncurl as Jaehyun’s mouth slightly parted by the pleasure he’s currently feeling. Run, damn it. But your body felt leaden and you couldn’t move your feet. As much as you wanted to deny it, Jaehyun’s pleasured face made you feel hot all over. To your face down and in between your legs.

If the girl doesn’t stop giving Jaehyun a handjob, and if Jaehyun, himself, wouldn’t stop staring at you with that gaze, your knees would absolutely collapse any time soon. And as if Jaehyun saw your predicament, he pushed the girl away.

“See you soon,” Jaehyun muttered. Then the girl leaned forward, giving his neck a sloppy kiss.

You tucked the strands of you hair behind your ear, suddenly embarrassed of letting yourself watch the little scene that unfolded before you. The sound of heels echoed everywhere when the girl walked past, completely ignoring your whole existence. Like you didn’t just see her give your boss a handjob.

Jaehyun walked towards you while drinking the liquor in one go. Eyebrow already raised as he stood face to face with you. You didn’t meet his gaze, for the fear that he might see how flustered you were right now. And you didn’t want to give him any satisfaction of knowing that you were affected of his little foreplay exhibit.

You cleared your throat then offered him the parcel, “Here.”

He pointed the sofa with his lips. You have no other choice but to oblige. Heaviness tried to pull on your feet as you walked to the sofa, your nerves still in a frenzy as you lay the parcel above the cushion.

Jaehyun was still standing behind you, watching you like a prey he’s not sure whether to kill or to let go. Either way, you forced your feet to move, and walked past him. You have no more business to do for him, and you badly wanted to go home. The scene the two of them made in front of you is enough to knock your consciousness and put you in a coma. And maybe you’d need a dextrose full of holy water to cleanse your body.

He stopped you by holding your arm, “Where are you going?”

You deadpanned, “Home.”

“The kitchen is there. Make me something to eat,” He pointed with his finger, with the hand still holding the empty glass.

You stared at him, not believing his words. He didn’t just order you to make him food when he literally made some random girl give him a handjob while you’re watching, right? What kind of drug is he inhaling? You badly want to try some. Just to become as detached as him.

“It’s Sunday, Jaehyun.” You reminded him, dropping all the professionalism to make him remember that he couldn’t boss you around outside of work. And that he should probably head inside a church and cleanse his soul of anything ungodly lurking within. But of course, you didn’t say that.

“Don’t make me repeat it again.” He warned, then walked back to his room, leaving you irritated. To do what, you have no idea— maybe he’ll jer— okay, calm down Y/N.

There’s no point making sense with Jung Jaehyun. The man thinks he owns everything and everyone around him. He’s standing on a pedestal higher than your own height. You know you can’t argue with people like that. So you trekked the direction Jaehyun motioned earlier, and then you found the kitchen. It’s a U-shaped kitchen with an island on the center. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the tall buildings outside.

You placed your bag above the island, then you sauntered up to the two-door refrigerator. Of course, even his refrigerator screams ‘rich’, full of goods you bet he doesn’t even try to cook nor eat. You grabbed something that is easy to cook— eggs. Maybe you’ll make a soufflé egg, or a pancake— or maybe a meal that he could eat until dinner. Then you shook your head and reminded yourself not to be frustrated over what he wants. He’s a grown ass man, he could take care of himself.

Yes, he’s a grown ass man who could definitely take care of himself. But here you are, cooking soy garlic chicken for him. Jaehyun was still nowhere to be found, giving your head at least the peacefulness it deserves.

You pondered about what happened earlier. A girl moaning inside his room, then that girl giving him a handjob in front of you. The realization of him kissing another girl after he kissed you hit home. It shouldn’t even hurt you, but it did. Does he badly wants to rub your kiss off his lips? Of course it was a mistake, you know that. But it didn’t feel wrong to you.

What is wrong with me?

You calmed yourself by drinking a glass of cold water, forcing to forget everything like how you forced to swallow the cold liquid. But you know that’s impossible. You couldn’t just forget a kiss like that.

To keep your mind off things, you decided to make a coffee for Jaehyun. The chicken is all ready, but he still locked up on his room. He should really give you a large bonus for your effort of dressing his breakfast plate. You laid all the food in the dining table: soufflé eggs, vegetable salad, hotdogs, soy garlic chicken, rice, and his coffee.

Jaehyun showed up the same moment you gathered your bag to go. He’s wearing fresh clothes on: black shirt with a new and clean sweatpants, hair still wet and his face looking refreshed. Obvious that he just got out of shower. You stopped yourself from asking what could be his skincare routine when you remembered that rich people like him doesn’t need one.

He eyed the foods laid on his dinner table, you’re sure it’s his first time seeing that many dishes for his breakfast. Did you overdo it? The sudden thought of making an effort for him made you blush. You’ve never cooked food for someone other than your mother and Yuqi before. The reality of doing it for the first time for someone— let alone a man— flustered you.

“I left some of the chicken in the oven, you can heat it up later for dinner. Eat well.” You started to walked away, but he grabbed you again when you trudge past him.

You inhaled, closing your eyes. What is it again? Somehow, being this close to him made you feel lightheaded. Because of what? You don’t know and you don’t want to know. The mere touch of his fingers could send electric bolts in your whole body and you didn’t like the way he makes you nervous just by being near.

“What more do you want, Jaehyun?” You snapped.

He doesn’t let go of your hand when he said, “Aside from sipping a nice and warm coffee, maybe I want you to bend over this very table so I can fuck you raw,”

Jesus Christ. The next thing you heard was a loud slap of skin to skin. You stare at him, dumbfounded with a stinging palm. His cheeks turned ruddy by the contact.

His head was still in a sideway position when he smirked. You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears, so loud and so frantic you thought you’d go deaf.

“Do you… do you really want a lawsuit filed against you, Jaehyun?” Surprisingly, your voice box is still working on your throat.

If Jaehyun could laugh because of your statement, he would. But he only stared at you as if you’re the whole circus.

“I’d like to see you try, chérie.”

The caress of his voice made your skin prickle. You dared stare at his eyes, into those dark orbs no one could ever read. Hatred that no one could quenched stared back at you, with the intensity of the storm that lies within fueling it. Convoluted as it was, the hatred isn’t meant for you. It’s more like a tattoo, permanent in his eyes. But hatred isn’t the only thing that was reflected in those eyes— there was something else: desire. You shivered. In defiance of the hate that’s showing vehemently on his irises, you couldn’t deny that Jaehyun’s beauty is not of this world. With his face looking ethereal like that, he could be a deity.

“I’m… going.” You gulped down saliva, trying to salve your thundering heart. He did not say anything, not a word when you turned your back on him and walked away.

But you could swear you felt him looking at your retreating back all the way to the door.

—

Jaehyun stared at the foods lay before him on the table. Unable to process why did you cook so many. He palmed his cheek before sitting, feeling like a thousand ant is crawling on his skin, the others biting. It was well-deserved though, for being so callous of his words. Yet the words that came out of his mouth was not a joke, just ended up lecherous. And the emotion on your face while you watch Mina giving him a handjob flashed in his mind without warning.

There and there, in your spot, with your innocent doe eyes trying not to run from the scene made something in him twitch. But your expression was so priceless— forcing yourself to not give up any emotion as you watch them. It made him feel hotter, hornier even. That if he could pushed Mina away and grabbed you just to kiss you as he did in your living room yesterday night, he would. Yet a force inside him locked him in place, reminding him that the kiss you shared was nothing but the result of his impulsive ass.

He tried to erase it, you know. He tried to erase your soft lips— tasting of everything sweet against the cruelty etched in his— but he couldn’t. The way you kissed him back made him mad— mad at himself for enjoying it, mad at his heart for feeling something familiar. A familiarity he buried together with Aurora.

He tried to shake it off by grabbing the hips of the unfamiliar girl underneath him, sure it’s going to leave bruises. Her fake squealing and moaning filled the whole house, but it didn’t even reach the emptiness inside him. So unlike the brief kiss you shared that sparked the fire long smoldered in his system.

He fucked her ‘til you arrived, just to let you know that what you shared was wrong. Not because he didn’t want it— heck, if he could claim you here and there, he would— but because he couldn’t taint another human being with the evil inside him. And he couldn’t afford to go down the path of trying to be good, just to be reminded that he’s not. And never will be.

What he felt for you, he couldn’t quite understand. When he sees you, he feels excited— alive even. And he’s certain Aurora would’ve cried of happiness if she knew he’s feeling something towards another girl again, after so many fucking years. After all, it was her wish before she blew out her last breath. For him to never forget love, instead cherish it. Hold on to it. Because it was salvation, she said. Yet Jaehyun couldn’t still believe it, if it was salvation, why does it feel punishment? Because it is a punishment, you fool, he whispered to himself.

He thanked his phone ringing of saving him into his thoughts. The name Johnny Seo displayed in the screen. He slide the green button, turning it on speakers.

“Bastard,”

“Puppy,” He reared back. Johnny is an alpha, and calling him puppy always raged him. Which is why Jaehyun branded him the name, to piss him off.

“I fucking hate you, you know that?” The wolf retaliated. Jaehyun nodded, taking a bite of his food.

“Anyways, you do know that my birthday is in four days, right? Or you don’t?”

Jaehyun could even see Johnny’s brow rising.

“I don’t. Birthdays are dramatic,” He prattled.

“Yes, because you don’t have one dickhead.” Johnny laughed.

If Jaehyun was an emotional wreck of an angel, he would’ve been hurt. But it’s the truth. He doesn’t celebrate birthdays because he doesn’t have one. He came into this world without going through the process of a mother’s pregnancy. But Johnny, and his whole pack of wolf has, being that they were all human once. Chaelin is the only one who shares the same struggle as him.

When Jaehyun didn’t bother to say anything, Johnny continued his sentence. “I’m celebrating it here, of course, in London.”

So the bastard is in London, Jaehyun whispered in his mind.

“You better go or else I’m pulling out my share in your company.” Johnny threatened. He would’ve laugh. Jaehyun is richer than all of Johnny and his pack of wolf’s riches combined. But he’s already planning to go to London for business, and he thought seeing how his comrades are faring with life every now and then isn’t a bad idea.

“I’m coming,”

“Come in my stomach then,” Johnny laughed.

It took Jaehyun a second to realize the joke. “Damn you, Seo.”

Johnny continued to laugh. Jaehyun attempted to pressed the red button when Johnny said something that perked his ear.

“Bring Y/N. Everyone will go. Including Taeyong’s clan and Doyoung’s group of warlocks.” — He said your name like you’re a friend— “Say I’m inviting her. I’ll handle her ticket, I know it’d hurt your ego to handle a pretty lady’s fare.”

“Shut the fuck up Seo, she’s not coming with me.” Jaehyun stated in a clipped tone. The thought of you meeting Johnny’s pack and Taeyong’s clan made his temper boil. At least you’re safe with Doyoung and the other warlocks if ever.

“Shall I call her myself then? She does not need to fly with you. She could arrive first, your choice.”

Jaehyun knows Johnny has his ways to contact you despite not knowing your number. And he couldn’t think straight of the possibility of you flying alone to London. Without him by your side.

“No, she’s my secretary. It’s just right that she flies with me.”

“You’re one hell of a complicated douchebag, Jung J—”

Jaehyun pressed the red button, not letting Johnny finish his sentence. Then he continued to eat, the thought of you going to London with him making him zestful than usual.

Then he remembered the forgotten canvas lying on his sofa. He stood up immediately and dashed to the living room only to slow down when he’s near. Heart thudding against his chest, a reminder that Aurora still have a part of him wrapped around her fingers.

He sat and stare at the parcel for a whole five-minutes. Readying himself to see the canvas inside that he knows too well— like the back of his hand. He grabbed it and slowly tear the thick carton wrapped in it.

Every inch of color sending bolts in his body. The familiar feeling of the canvas in his palms taking the breath out of him. He continued to tear the carton until nothing is left wrapped up around the art.

There it is. Aurora’s painting. In his hands. After so many years, he finally found the courage to stare at it. And the feeling is overwhelming. It’s overwhelming to see his own self, painted in the canvas made by the girl he loved more than life itself.

Of course Aurora knew.

Of course she knew that he was The Fallen.

And she never once judged him. Unlike all the people in the world, Aurora never turned her back on him despite knowing the truth.

That’s why his world crumbled for the second time when she died,— the only person who understood that Lucifer, himself, also needed love— slipping away from his fingers.

The art was wonderfully preserved, with only little to no dents. The pigments weren’t as bright as he remembers, but it’s the art of Aurora nonetheless.

His wings, the glowing of it intelligently captured by her. It made his lips slightly bend into a smile. But it quickly receded when he noticed something on the face. A detail he doesn’t remember noticing when he first saw the canvas one hundred years ago. A… tear?

It was so small, but it’s surely not a dent. For when he looked at it, the pigment stared right back at him.

—

You feel like shit when you came back home. It felt like you trekked a whole mountain from the unrest that you feel inside. Your bones feel heavy, your eyes too. And you blame Jaehyun and that girl for it. Her face, and her lips pressed into Jaehyun’s skin made you unexpectedly irritated. The mere thought of her sleeping on his bed made everything worse than it is.

Sure, she’s maybe a supermodel, or an actress, or an influential person and you’re just a secretary barely hanging on to life— but you could feel that the bond you have with Jaehyun is more meaningful than what they possibly have. Hearing yourself prattle about your vexation towards the girl and your boss, you tugged on your hair. You’re saying nonsense, Y/N. Of course, you and Jaehyun do not have any ‘bond’ to begin with and—

“Are you okay?” Yuqi looked up from her notes to you.

At her words, you realized that you’re already standing in the living room.

“Of-of course,” You blinked.

Yuqi shook her head, “Yes, Jaehyun and you do not have any bond. What else?” She teased.

Oh, so you said the words aloud. Your cheeks heated by Yuqi’s teasing. She’s just caught you thinking about your boss, and heard you blathering nonsense in the air.

Frustrated by everything, you decided to just paint something. The canvas from your dream begging to be recreated. You changed your clothes and readied your materials. Luckily, there’s a remaining canvas resting at the corner of your room, slightly smaller than the one in your dream but that could do.

You tied your hair in a messy bun before securing your canvas on to the easel, placing it facing the only window you have in your room. Light filters through, but not hot enough to make you wince. The weather is perfect with the sun hiding in the thick clouds.

Making yourself comfortable on the stool, you grabbed the canvas again. Hugging it onto the crook of your arm and tracing lines here and there to make the shape of the falling angel. The passion burning in your fingers prevented you from taking a rest, albeit your neck is starting to freeze and cramp.

Craning your neck left to right, you stare at the sketch. You couldn’t proclaim that it’s the same as your dream for the lack of colors it has, so you started to mixed oil pigments, with the hues of the painting from your dreams being your guide. You mixed blues for the skies, whites for the angel’s silk robe wrapped in his waist, blacks, reds, and oranges for the smoldering wings. But the one color you’ve had a hard time figuring out is the iridescence coating his wings. You needed your phone to search how to mix colors that’d look gleaming against the canvas. In the midst of your search, you’ve found out knowledge beyond what you expected.

Lucifer was God’s favorite angel. You could see it in his wings— for it glows unlike any other angels.

So, the painting must be an interpretation of Lucifer? You wondered.

Shiver like no other covered your body, the divine knowledge sipping in your mind. Because of that, you became more eager to finish the canvas. After mixing a lot of pigments and trying it to different papers, you’ve finally succeeded in making a glowing color. You laid the small jar on your study table, careful not to spill a drop, and continued to paint all around the sketch.

Yuqi called for you to dinner, the only time you allowed yourself to rest. You straightened your back and massaged your palms, numb from all the drawings and paintings you did. Before departing your room, you stare at the canvas. It’s not even halfway through, so you couldn’t make out the result in your head yet. You supposed you can continue painting it once you have the time, since it’s obvious that you wouldn’t be able to finish it today despite wanting to.

“What’s that you’re working on? Commission?” Yuqi asked as she swallowed a spoonful of ramen soup.

“Nope. Just… had an idea.”

Still, you remained quiet about your dreams. Not that anyone could understand them. You couldn’t decipher them yourself. And you know it’s best to keep them a secret for now.

Your phone lit up in the corner of the table, a text had just arrived. While munching on your food, you slid it open.

[We’re heading to London in three days. Send me your infos. Got it covered. Don’t ask too much questions.]

You forcefully swallowed your food, not wanting your mouth to spit it. Throat tightening, you drank a glass of water.

“What is it?” Yuqi asked, patting your back and peeking on the screen. “London?!” She exclaimed upon reading the message. You could only nod.

Jaehyun told you to book him a flight to London. It never occurred to you that he needed you to accompany him. The thought of flying to London with him gave you the good kind of goosebumps. But you didn’t allow your emotions to get the best of you. You typed in a reply.

[Okay, Sir. E-mailing it to you now.] But you really wanted to type in all-caps and make sure that you’re really coming with him.

You’re not certain you could get enough sleep tonight.

—

Days went on in a blur, and now you find yourself seated across Jaehyun in a first class plane. You decided not to move much, for you don’t have any idea how should you act around. Jaehyun does not spare you any glance at all. He’s reading a book for an hour now, completely ignoring your presence.

But before you got on the plane, he told you the real reason of bringing you with him after days of not telling you. Johnny’s birthday is tomorrow, and he invited you. The mere thought of him remembering you as you are and not as Jaehyun’s secretary warmed your heart. Unfortunately, you couldn’t buy an expensive watch or necktie for him so you sticked to what you do best— drawing. You drew him for days, leaving the other canvas you’re working on in the corner of your room. You could only hope that Johnny would like the gift.

Many things agitated you the whole hours that you’re sitting or leaning on your seat. Like, what would you wear? It’s not like you could wear your uniform in there. And you have no money to buy a dress. The money you have in your wallet is only enough to buy you, Yuqi, and Soojin souvenirs. As for Yuta, after days of trying to contact you and bombarding your phone with text messages, he finally gave up. You still haven’t had the guts to talk to him about his and Jaehyun’s brawl. Jaehyun never opened the conversation to you, too.

There’s many things that he does not try to address to you; the kiss, the little scene he made on his own house, and his comment about your soy garlic chicken. Yes, you bloody want him to say at least something about the food you prepared. But days had passed, no words came out of his mouth. He’s back to being the most cold-hearted man yet again.

You shifted on your seat, trying to rest your eyes. Jaehyun said there’s still three hours remaining before you land— the only thing he’s said to you. Clearing your mind off your thoughts, you close your eyes. This time, there’s no dream that accompanied the void in you.

You felt a nudge in your arm, Jaehyun’s voice looming around you, waking you up. The sting in your eyes hit the moment you opened them, squinting against the light around you. You noticed a small blanket wrapped around you, not remembering the moment you wrapped yourself in it.

“That… is the attendant’s doing.” Jaehyun pointed out, staring at you. And honestly? He didn’t need to do that. You know his personality too well to even assume that he’s the one who did it.

“We’re landing in five minutes,”

—

You arrived in Ridgemount Hotel after a hectic ride on a limo rented by Jaehyun, himself. Hectic because none of you uttered a word, your mouth has gone dry and jetlag kicked it the moment you stepped inside. You couldn’t even bring yourself to read something for the pulsating ache in your head.

Jaehyun’s hotel room is located across from you. Of course, he would prefer to spend a lot of money that to be wise and stay with you to the same room. Not that it matters to you, anyway. You’re definitely alright being your own specie in your room.

You have no idea how long did you sleep the jetlag away. There were no messages from Jaehyun when you opened your phone. You guessed he’s also getting some rest for the party tomorrow now that will be celebrated at Guildhall. The moment Jaehyun told you the venue, your eyes almost fell from its sockets. You only see Guildhall when you browse the web for medieval halls in London, and now you’ll get there tomorrow evening. The excitement is unbearable. You could literally jump from happiness. But a loud knock on the door stopped you from flinging yourself on the soft mattress.

“Hi!”

“Ms. Chaelin?”

The woman is smiling at you, wearing a white cardigan with a large belt wrapped around her waist. What is she doing here?

“Come in!” You said, letting her precede you to the door.

“Oh, your room is so cozy.”

She scanned the room with interest before sitting on the bed and looking at you.

“You’re probably wondering why I am here bothering your beauty rest,” She laughed. “But I’m just wondering if we could, you know, have some fun before Johnny’s birthday.”

“I— I’m afraid I don’t have…” Your voice faded, the sudden embarrassment coating you. But Chaelin only smiled at you, her face gave up the notion of telling you not to worry about a penny.

“Don’t worry about it! Everything is on me.”

“I can’t possibly accept that, Miss.”

“Just call me Chaelin. Please let me treat you. I wanna make up to the last time we’ve met. I know it wasn’t pleasant.” She wheedled.

She’s talking about your first week at Jung’s Fiscals. You waved your hands to tell her not to worry about it.

“It’s okay… you don’t need to. If there’s a person who should be doing that, it’s Jaehyun.” You told her.

“Yes! That’s right. Jaehyun told me— oh, nevermind. Do you have anything to wear?”

Jaehyun told her what? You shrugged off the curiosity. By her question, you slowly shake your head. That’s a problem you’ve been pondering on for hours now.

��Then all the reason for me to treat you!” Chaelin wrapped her arms around yours, not giving you any chance to argue.

You changed into comfortable clothes, fit for hours of shopping you assumed would take place. Chaelin waited for you, scrolling through her phone the whole time. According to her, all of Johnny’s friends will attend the anticipated party of the year. Not to jump into prejudice, you assumed Johnny is the kind of guy who throws absolutely crazy parties by the way Chaelin anticipates the event.

Knowing about the attendance of Johnny’s friends is the sole reason why you’re trudging the shiny floors and garish interior of a famous boutique near the hotel you’re staying in. You sent a simple message to Jaehyun, informing him that you went outside with Chaelin. As usual, he did not bother to reply.

You and Chaelin had fun. She literally made you her own personal doll, pulling you in and out of boutiques to dig every clothes there is that would fit you. You let her do her fairy-godmother work, being that you are lacking knowledge when it comes to the matter of class and magnificence. And you trust her taste enough to let her on her mission of finding the best dress for you.

Every now and then, she tells you about her friendship with Jaehyun. Not that you ask, but it made you curious nonetheless. According to her, they’ve been friends for a really long time now. It made you think that maybe they’d met in their elementary school. But Chaelin did not give you any specific date of their first meeting.

The day went on, and now you find yourself staring at the dress and stiletto Chaelin bought you. A promise to pay her was answered with a scrunch of her nose, telling you not to worry about the money and that she gave you the things wholeheartedly, not expecting any payment. It didn’t make you feel comfortable, but at least you relaxed by the assurance of wearing something decent tomorrow.

The door suddenly clicked open, and you jumped by seeing Jaehyun. He stares at you for a minute, obviously wanted to say something, but he rubbed his nape and closed the door again.

What was that?

You shrugged but after a second, the door opened again, revealing your boss with his back straightened, ready to give orders.

“Eat with me,”

Jaehyun did not wait for you to answer, giving you no chance to change your clothes. You supposed your current attire was enough, so you trudge outside and followed him to the hotel’s hall.

He sat, food in his plate. You followed after mere minutes of filling yours with delicacies you don’t know the name and haven’t tasted yet in your whole life. Jaehyun said nothing, just silently bite and munch his food. This is your first time eating with him, and you noticed that he’s feminine when he eats. There’s nothing wrong about it though, you just found the way he dabs the napkin on his mouth and the way he munches food so quietly, fascinating.

A glut of silence enwrapped the air around you. It could literally suffocate you, so with all your might, you tried to talk to him.

“Why did you let me come with you?” You have no idea why did you ask such questions, but Jaehyun only looked at you as if he’s had any choice.

“Johnny requested,” His curt answer.

“Johnny’s birthday must be so special. You even took your time to celebrate it with him.” When he does not answer, you continued your talking, “How about you? When’s your birthday?”

By your question, Jaehyun dropped his fork on his plate, creating a loud clatter to make the other hotel guests turn on the both of you. But he quickly regained his composure, giving a curt nod to everyone as a way of excuse.

“I don’t— it’s next month. 14th.” His laconic response.

“Okay…” You said, wary of his sudden lack of control.

“Excuse me,” He said, pushing his chair with the back of his knees. You nodded at him. But even after finishing your meal, Jaehyun did not go back to finish his.

You went back on your room calculating if you’d said something to irk Jaehyun. He wasn’t exactly annoyed, just taken aback? Nevertheless, you’ve gathered one information about him, and that’s his birthday. You no longer want to vex yourself by his constant berating, you thought knowing something about him would help pave the way of your bond.

While thinking about what could you give Jaehyun on his birthday, you wrapped the canvas you’d give Johnny tomorrow. After ten-minutes of cutting and ribbon-tying, you changed into new clothes and slept, a smile creeping up your face as you think about the event tomorrow.

—

Spectacular is an understatement to describe the Guildhall. Its chandelier hang high in the ceilings, with curtains draping down around them and with lights illuminating their color against the columns standing as posts of the whole hall.

Tables are decorated with a sophisticated yet manly touch. You assumed Johnny requested for a medieval touch to adorn the venue, which the organizers did an absolutely amazing job on. You feel like you were back the past. The period movies you’ve seen and books you’ve read all coming back to you— every scene and every word you thought won’t come to life is here, in front of you. The overwhelming happiness sits on your stomach, waiting to be unleashed.

“Y/N!” Chaelin waved, then she walked towards you with a wine glass in one hand. Jaehyun excused himself the moment Chaelin arrived beside you. He walked towards a pool of boys gathering around Johnny. Someone clapped his back, a man his age. But the younger ones nodded at him, reverence clear in their faces.

“You look stunning, Chaelin.” You greeted. The woman is wearing a velvet dress, hugging her curves, with a fur scarf wrapped around her arms.

“No, you look magnificent, love!” She cheered, pulling your hand and swirling you playfully, both your laughs joining together.

You’re wearing a tulle long dress, a mixture of champagne and blue fabrics adorning it. The stiletto you wear goes with the same hue as the dress. To be honest, you felt slightly out of place when you arrived, for the people around you wears monotone colors only. And you obviously stand out. But now Chaelin is here, you felt the pressure being lifted off of you.

The event started when Johnny went on to the platform, thanking each and everyone of the guess for joining him on his day. The bellows and laughters of his friends stood out among the crowd, their cheers slightly distracting Johnny. Your eyes automatically searched for Jaehyun, despite not screaming with the other boys, he has an unusual and once in a lifetime smile on his lips which made him more handsome that he already is.

He wears a simple black tuxedo, with his hair neatly parted and brushed up, a cowlick straying on his forehead. The color of his suit accentuated his pale features, making him ethereal in your eyes once again. He shifted, and met your eyes in the crowd.

His beauty locked you in your place with a heart thudding as you continued staring at him. He lifted his glass with a curt nod, a silent sign for you to enjoy the night. The small gesture made your heart swell in happiness even more, so you smiled at him. And he smiled back.

The evening moved on. You remained in your location, Chaelin giving you company. Johnny’s still walking around the venue, greeting acquaintances. And Jaehyun, he’s still talking with his friends.

“Aren’t you friends with them?” You suddenly asked Chaelin. She whirled at you before taking a sip of her drinks. Then she looked at the men surrounding Jaehyun in a sideway glance.

“Oh yes. Been friends with them for a really long time now. I’ve seen some of them grow up into the man they are today.” There was passion and love in her voice that you didn’t expect to hear. “That boy is Jeno,” She pointed at a boy with the warmest eyesmile, “We’re probably the closest, aside from Jaehyun. I adore that pup, quiet but knows when to enjoy.” She has that certain smile with her now, her eyes twinkling. Then she pulled you towards the boys suddenly.

“Let’s meet them!” She cheered. Although you were nervous in every step that you took, you let her sway you towards the men. Jaehyun met your eyes the moment you stood in front of them.

“Who’s this pretty lady?” A tall guy emerged from nowhere, bright smile directed at you. He was nudged by a smaller man.

“Jaehyun’s date,”— then he whirled towards you, offering his hands for a handshake— “I’m Ten.” You took his hand, expecting for a handshake, but instead he kissed it. Loud cheers emerged from the group, making you blush.

All of them shook your hands then, and you noticed they were glancing at Jaehyun as they did so, like they’re waiting for his permission.

“You must be Y/N?” The guy with a red hair emerged from nowhere. You slightly jump from his appearance; red hair, pale features, and his eyes, there’s a little red in his irises. Jesus Christ, he was beautiful.

“I’m Taeyong,” He offered his hand, then you shook it, still mesmerized by his exquisiteness. Taeyong, then, started to entertain you with his stories, never leaving your side until people started to slow dance in the middle of the hall. He excused himself then walked towards a pretty woman. You watched as almost everyone danced. Chaelin was with a boy you remembered named Doyoung. Seeing everyone enjoying themselves, it felt lonely suddenly. Out of place, even.

Then for the third time that night, Jaehyun met your eyes across the room. He’s got a wine glass in his hand while looking at you. Then seconds later, he drank all the contents, leaving the glass to the care of the waitress. Jaehyun walked towards you, every step making your heart beat louder, faster. He walked the earth like he’s a king. His mere steps could make the world stop on its spinning.

Then he’s standing before you, offering you his hand.

“Are you gonna dance with me or…?” He asked, the baritone of his voice sending you shivers. You locked eyes with him then took his hand. His eyes, never leaving yours too.

The slow music lulls the whole place with its softness. Jaehyun held your hip in one hand, and your hand in the other. Your heart maybe thundering, but deep in it, you know you’re in the safe place. You’ve never felt like this your whole life— like you’re becoming something other than the girl you are. There’s an ember inside you as you looked at Jaehyun’s eyes. A small fire waiting to be ignited. His familiar scent whiffed your nose as he spins you away and towards him. The familiarity of his face is staggering, yet you blame your dreams for it.

Your faces were too close, so close in the edge of the music. One push, and you’ll kiss in front of the people. One push it all it takes— then the music stopped. You held on to each other for a bit longer before Jaehyun guided you towards your table.

“I’ll get us drinks,” He whispered.

Your head was still swimming with the feel of dancing of Jaehyun when Johnny approached you, eyes bright. He automatically has his hand lifted for a high-five.

“Hey!” He called out.

“Happy birthday, Mr. Seo!”

“Please, just Johnny Y/N.”

You practiced the name with your mind before saying it out loud, “Happy birthday, Johnny!”

“There! Better!” He laughed but stopped when he saw the wrapped gift above your table, “Is that for me?”

“Uh, yes. I’m sorry this is all I could afford.”

“No, no, Y/N! Whatever is this, I’ll cherish it.” He smiled at you, “What is it by the way? You know, I really get too giddy whenever I receive gifts.”

“Oh, a portrait of you.”

His mouth formed a big ‘O’, asking for permission to open the gift, you told him yes since it’s his now. Johnny’s eyes bore an amazement that made you flustered. He stared and stared at the portrait.

“Wow, I am really touched, Y/N. Thank you for this.” Said he. You waved your hand to tell him it’s alright.

But then his eyebrows creased, his face shows an expression that of remembering something. Then he put his finger on his lips, contemplating the portrait.

“I know someone who had a similar art style as you,”

“Really? Who is he?”

You waited for Johnny to answer, an unfamiliar agitation rests in your bones by every second that passes of not knowing who the person might be. Then he snapped his fingers, creating a sound.

“Yes! I remember now! You have the same style as Aurora!”

If Johnny could clap, he absolutely would. You sat there, speechless. His other compliments were drowned by your screaming thoughts.

Aurora.

He said your art style is similar to Aurora’s.

Whoever she might really be, the mention of her name— specially in real life— never failed to send shivers down your spine.

You gulped and asked Johnny, “Who is Aurora?”

“None of your business,” The man behind you answered. Jaehyun.

You wanted to tell him she’s not ‘none of your business’. She was a product of your imagination, she was. And now the people around you knows her name. Johnny knows her. Jaehyun calls out for her name in your dreams. Your intuition tells you something is going on. But your throat has gone dry. No matter how much you wanted to tell Jaehyun that you dreamed about Aurora often, no words came out of your mouth. Your body feels heavy. And you know, you’re scared. Scared of the answers once you ask.

Aside from night black hair and blue eyes, who really are you, Aurora?

—

#jung jaehyun au #jaehyun imagines #jung jaehyun imagines #yuno imagines #nct imagines #nct au #yuno au #pls leave some feedbacks i would really appreciate it!!#tHANK YOUUU!!!

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