#also his attempts of doing anything in the ongoing run is boring (in what little ive seen so take this with some salt) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

damselofblueroses · 3 years ago

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The Name of The Rose

Summary: Your study-buddy Doh Kyungsoo comes with you for a long-awaited trip to Tokyo, Japan. There is a tension between you, however both of you decided to build a friendship instead of a relationship.

Chapter Summary: Kyungsoo takes you to a little noodle shop. Both of you were becoming aware of your own feelings, and during the dinner you were having some interesting conversations.

Content: Unestablished relationship, AU, Hurt/Comfort, Anger, Slight Violence, Emotional Complications and Healing.

Warnings: Well, the story contains NSFW/Smut, please minors do not continue.

Note: This story was inspired by D.O.’s album, Empathy, the album of 2021 in my opinion. It is an ongoing mini project, I planned to write it as a one-shot when I started, however I realized there are a lot to say about Empathy Era and I cannot stop shut my mouth, or prevent myself from writing… So, here we go.

Chapter Word Count: 6.7k

Chapter 2: The Hunter and the Goddess

You did not know how far Kyungsoo was planning to hold your hand like a treasure. You did not know if he was just enjoying the time then kick you out or he was going to change something between you, as holding hands or asking weird questions did not have a place in your relationship till now. What if he was planning something you never dare to think of? Maybe he’d encourage you to try new things since you were the one who telling that you were bored to death. What kind of new things was the first questions popped up in your mind, you knew Kyungsoo too well, that innocent school kid look was half true, he could put everyone in shame if he wanted to perform his charm and knowledge.

And you, unfortunately, knew that he was quite popular not only for his good-looking or his brain, but also some talents.

But you realized then that if he wanted to give you a demonstration, you would happily accept and let him to use those talents you really tried your best in order to keep yourself from questioning. If the man was Kyungsoo, you could be pathetically submissive and always eager to please him that you would do anything he wanted just to hear him telling you how good you were for him.

You exactly understood the assignment more than you asked for, the whole situation you were willingly putting yourself without an indicator was nothing but stupid, reckless, and risky to your mental and emotional health. There was a real threat ahead of you, if you were going to be over the moon and let yourself to dream the things you certainly could not reach, you would not overcome, and you were going to destroy your friendship with Kyungsoo.

Maybe that’s why you started to shake like stuck inside a blizzard. Kyungsoo sensed it, too. Maybe he thought it was very strange singe you were in the mid of fucking August and the weather was like a preparation room before entering to Hell, however he chose to keep his observation to himself, and he let your hand go.

You could scream.

God, you could scream so bad because of the loss of that bloody precious sensation.

Before you would say something, hell like you could do, he run his hand through your arm and drag you closer to his chest.

“It is about air conditioner.” he said, but in the blink of an eye all you could feel was the warmness, and how good his smell was. “And your little blue dress is literally little.”

His palm contacted your bare skin, the tip of his fingers were close to your neck, his touch was heavy, hot and it had you breathing a little bit faster than usual.

“Of course, my dress is little,” you attempted to save yourself from the misery. “I know it sounds impossible, but I am shorter even than you, Kyungsoo.”

“So funny you are.” the sudden look he gave you made your stomach flipped. “Sometimes I feel like I have to teach you not crossing my limits, I am a man after all.”

“What are you going to do?” you playfully whispered. “Bend me over your knees?”

“You have a point over there.” he was serious. “I would like to do.”

You hoped he did not mean it.

“I just say the truth.” you could not help but push him further. “Since when telling the truth is a sin? Cancel me if you want but sweet Jesus, Soo, you know you are smol.”

“Depends on which point you want to compare me with the other guys.” he claimed. “You never had a proper taste of me, darling girl, I am just a friend to you.”

Well, his comment hurt you, but you bit your tongue and quickly sealed a lid on the boiling heat inside of you. Your fingers rub at your forehead.

Proper taste of Kyungsoo, you thought, there was no beat of hesitation in your mind, you would willingly die for having a proper taste of him.

“Headache?” he asked and reached into his bag most probably he brought painkiller for you. Kyungsoo knew you to the bits, more than anyone else, he could read you like you were an open book to him. But this time, you wanted to keep it to yourself.

“No.” you nod. “How many destinations we have to arrive?”

“2 or 3. I am not sure,” he looked at around. “Most probably two. Are you hungry that much?”

“Yes, I am starving.” it was not a lie, you were really starving but not for food. Coming to Japan with Kyungsoo was a bad idea, you had never been unstable like this before. The invisible barrier between you and him made you mad. You knew that you were not one to unload the feelings onto someone, instead, you rarely bring them up, only when it was extremely unbearable for your heart. When you feel like explode. When you feel like suffocating. When the suffer become a load to carry.

To your dismay, you felt all of them right now.

“On your foot, soldier.” he carefully lowered his arm off your shoulder. “We came.”

“Okey.” you pull yourself to your feet and hurry to leave the bus. Kyungsoo pressed into the button, you step into the fresh air. “Now, to where?”

“This way.” he arched his brow and you two walked into the noodle restaurant in a quite silence. Your head was throbbing, heavier than usual with all those thoughts, hopes, secrets that you were keeping inside of you for a long time. You hardly realize that you reached to the place, but when Kyungsoo opened the door for you, you managed to save yourself from trouble.

The place smelled too good to be true. The smell of fresh noodles, side dishes made you dizzy, the cuteness of place as well itself.

Smol like Kyungsoo, you thought but you did not say this, you just looked for a table to sit. You turned to him, but he already found a place for you and held your fucking hand again. He did not think about his move, it was so obvious, he just did. Your heart was pondering while he headed to the corner of shop, more intimate with dim lights.

“We cannot be comfortable with those lights.” he pointed the roof out. “There are so bright for us. Is this table okey?”

“Yip yip.” you were disctracted by the pleasure of yummy smells. “I can feel the taste on my tongue even from these smells! Let’s sit!”

Kyungsoo chuckled to your enthusiasm, he knew that he’s being tormented by his inappropriate thoughts, but he could not stop thinking about you. Would you smile like this if he tells you how much he adores you for fucking years? Would you smile so gently like you smile when you see a blue rose or your smile was going to be fade like when you learned your grandfather passed away?

Kyungsoo shivered with the memory. It was the last thing he would want to recall, he wished to see you never ever like that. You could not smile for months.

But he could not prevent remembering your skin. So soft and so warm to the touch and your fucking lips, so plump, pink, pouty and always calling him to kiss you.

You looked so pretty today, it was not you were not pretty in general but today Kyungsoo felt like you were his, all his. There was no Baekhyun, no Chanyeol, no Jongdae which means peace to him because when you three came together, the only word could describe was cacophony, no one. He loved them more than any friends, but he secretly preferred having time just for you two. Just you and Kyungsoo. He could watch your excitement for a while, you were like a bird whose trying to decide where to set. He was waiting for the show you were going to put, when the waitress brought the menu, you brightly smiled to her and duck your head into it while unintentionally dancing.

Kyungsoo loved you more than he could tell for this. Being yourself in every situation.

You were bathed in the dim yellow light, and Kyungsoo clearly saw your upper half above the table. Navy blue cotton clung to your chest, tighter than Kyungsoo wished, that square cut-out revealed your pale skin and the blue necklace you wore was elegantly stayed above your collarbone. Kyungsoo could not define but your collarbone definitely doing something to him. He remembered that necklace with a blue, tiny rose, he gave it to you in your 23rd birthday.

He wished he could tell you that you were prettier even than blue roses.

Years passed out so quick, but Kyungsoo could not tell you how much he desired you during all those years.

He watched you, forgetting to blink. His gaze shifting over you, washing you with his admiration from head to toe. You were clueless, he knew that you were not aware of his feelings for you, but he was grateful for being able to absorb the extent of your beauty. Maybe you were not the prettiest girl of the town, for his eyes, you were the chef kiss for sure. He remembered he wanted to punch Chanyeol in the face for his comments when you got your pixie haircut, you were not looking like manly as he nonchalantly said, Kyungsoo never think he could find short hair as attractive but hell, he loved your new style. And your eyes, your goddam eyes, so big, outlined in carbon black liner that made your eyelids covered with a shimmery shadow.

You looked fucking gorgeous, and Kyungsoo was extremely vulnerable to your beauty. You gave him really hard times, literally and figuratively. And to his dismay, he fucking liked his bonds to you like he was an addicted.

“Have you decided on the orders?” Kyungsoo heard the waitress again and turned to her as he woke up from a dream. He realized he forgot to look at menu, before he could open it, you lifted your head and looked at him.

Damn you.

Damn your eyes.

Damn your lips.

“Did you?” you murmured. “I did.”

Kyungsoo could not get your lips out of his head, if he could, he would also decide what he was going to have. Godfuckingdamnit, he just wanted to drag you into his lap and kiss you fervently. Maybe you could understand how he has been feeling since fucking years if he would kiss you. He just wanted to ravage you like a starved man, and he fucking was.

“I want Inaniwa Udon.” you said as you were waiting for his reply. “And sake, if it is possible.”

Why not, he thought. As long as you were with him, he could allow you to drink as much as you wanted. Thinking you drinking without Kyungsoo gave him really heart attack, he knew you were not famous of having high alcohol tolerance.

“I will have Ramen Meat Tsukasa.” he smiled to the waitress. “Do you serve sake?”

“Yes, we do.” the waitress replied. She was very kind, and she was also smiling to your little dance figures. “Do you want two bottles, or one is enough?”

“I think one is enough for now.” Kyungsoo said this as a question to you, you hummed. “Maybe we will have another later.”

“Okey, I will bring your orders as soon as they are ready. Have a nice time.” the waitress made a little bow to both of you and rushed back to the kitchen.

“So, do you like the restaurant?” Kyungsoo asked to you. At his words, your smile widened, and the stars became visible in your eyes. Kyungsoo felt he started to melt inside.

“I love these tiny places.” you whispered sheepishly. “You know how much I love them, Kyungsoo.”

Yeah, Kyungsoo knew your preferences very well. What he did not know was the power your whisper has on him. It gave him electroshocks, he felt like a wriggling worm. He immediately fantasized on more intimate scenarios which you could whisper his name and God, he hated himself for that, but he could not stop. To be honest, even if it meant self-hatred, he did not want stop thinking about you. He loved to think about you far too much although he was perfectly aware of his mind wandering around extremely dangerous territory.

“For a second,” you stood up. “I have to use bathroom, excuse me.”

“Yeah.” that was his best shot since you started to walk because he did not see your back in this dress. His eyes followed you until you disappeared, drunk the sway of your hips. Kyungsoo’s opinion of your dress quickly changed, and he cursed Sehun under his breath, the cotton fabric wrapped your curves and gradually hugged your body till a hand above the knee, it multiplied your summer rose vibe.

He decided to steal that dress and set it on fire, fuck that dress, God, he hated it.

Kyungsoo wondered what was going to happen to him when you decided to go out with a guy. Not today, his mind reminded him but one day you were going to hang out with someone. Someone, but not him.

He squeezed his fingers just as he would strangle an invisible neck of unnamed enemy.

Actually, you went out for some dates in the past, but none of them worked for you. Kyungsoo vividly remembered how horrible those nights were for him till he could hear the story from you. To be honest, you were secretive about those dates, you did not give him details but he learned it did not work for you, it was enough.

Till now.

He did not want to admit it, but he was curious as fuck, why those dates did not work. What happened, why you were so adamant of not going out while you were extremely clever and pretty? Unfortunately, Kyungsoo was aware of not only your impacts on him but also on community. You were quite popular among the guys.

He was dying to learn the reason of your consecutive rejections, maybe it was about your taste of men. Maybe you were liking older guys, maybe you were liking younger ones, maybe you were preferring foreigners. Scenarios, choices, and possibilities were a lot, and Kyungsoo hated the truth to the bits, even though you had no idea how charming you were both physical and emotional, you could make a man falling love with you in the blink of an eye.

He hated it too much. He hated because he strongly believed that if you could think of him as a potential lover even for once, you would do something to make him fall for you.

You never try. You were always far from him, and he was already in enough pain because of the distance between you, even you were just beside of him.

“I am back!” your voice dragged him out of his dark thoughts. For a second, he thought he could beg you to tell him how you saw him as a man.

If you need a lover, let me know.

Kyungsoo wanted to tell this to you more than anything else, but he was a coward inside. He was afraid of losing you forever, he did not want to destroy the anything, if he could have you as a friend, as a study-buddy, he was okey. Not fine, but okey. At least he could be with you as his heart wanted.

“Food is not ready yet.” he choked out loudly enough to make your eyebrows knitted.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah yeah, I am fine.” he nonchalantly answered. What could he say? Would he say he was thinking when you were going to have a boyfriend, how much he was going to be sad? Or could he tell you how much he wanted tear your dress off your body and worship you? “I am hungry.”

“I have a theory about the hunger of men.” you sat on your chair comfortably and pointed a finger to him. He wanted to catch that finger and kiss it. “For example, if you are hungry, you can be really scary. When Baekhyun or Chanyeol is hungry, they are grumpy. Is this something special to you, or is this a feature of men? We can be polite while we are waiting for food.”

“Do not go there.” Kyungsoo said lowly. “How much you know about men? Only me, our squad members, and your family. We can be also polite, and I am not fucking scary.”

“Sweetheart, I know men more than you believe.” you blinked mischievously, enough to startle him. “If a man is hungry, even the face expression transformed.”

“May I ask?” he started, but he could feel his hand beneath the table automatically turned into a fist. “How did you collect the information to support your weak theory?”

“By having dinners with them.” you grinned like a fucking Cheshire cat, and Kyungsoo hated to see also that. “You are not so different from each other, being so full of yourselves.”

You knew you were playing with fire.

You were trying to provoke him with your words. You were aware of Kyungsoo’s dislike of being compared with others.

Unconsciously you decided to make him mad at you in order to see if he had a feeling, even a little spot in his emotional radar, for you. If you could manage to annoy him that much, you knew he would talk. He would give hints at least, but he would do something.

You were more than okey even for a hint, you realized you were up to your hair, you were done with waiting for a sign. You realized your burned yourself out to the bitter end, you were done with waiting for him. You wanted nothing but him, you could say you did not and you would be lying your ass off if you did.

He stared at you as his expression was hard to decipher. He could be wanting to beat the shit out of you or thinking for an answer to shut your mouth for all eternity. Both of the options were possible.

“Your meals are ready.” the waitress came back with the gigantic bowls. “Enjoy, and bon appetite.”

“Thank you very much.” you bowed at her as she placed your meals onto table. As the smell attacked your nose, you rushed to pick your chopsticks. You had a sweet spot for Udon, but it did not mean you were not going to steal from Kyungsoo. You opened the water bottle, took a long sip, and turned to Kyungsoo to ask if he wanted water or not, and you fucking froze.

He was pouring sake for you just like the most important job he has been doing till now.

You were very fond of the level of attention; he was giving to everything he did. You could watch him forever, anything he did turned into art for you. God, if you could see your face right now, you would clearly understand how he affected you, your lips parted and your breathing was becoming heavier, holy shit, because he was pouring fucking sake!

“Can you stop staring at me like a freak?” he asked. You keel over in the chair, nearly shooting water out of your nose. Quickly, you swallowed and covered your mouth and averted your eyes while blushing like a schoolgirl but what made you blush was not being caught by him, you exactly saw that he was blushing while he scolded you. He was fucking blushed, you were %100 percentage of sure, his cheeks were turned into pinkish. “Here you go.”

Your hands were shaking a bit, but you managed to hold the cup.

“Thank you.” and you drunk it. You really needed something to cool you. “May I have the bottle?”

You knew Kyungsoo would make the process slower and to be honest, if he was going to take charge of sake, you would not nothing but staring at him like there was no tomorrow.

Tomorrow… You were feeling nervous about the future. You wanted to keep both of you at this moment. Just you and Kyungsoo. Together.

You shook your head just as you wanted to clean your mind from negative thoughts. The moment you had was the most important one and you did not want to destroy it by thinking about what was going to be happen. Kyungsoo was with you right now, even though you were not sure if you would last for the end of this trip.

He handed the bottle to you, you nested it close to yourself and poured another one. You drunk it too while Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow which you wholly ignored, then processed to eat your Udon. Flavour erupted on your tastebuds, and you started to eat like you did not have a meal in the last week.

“Holy shit.” you cursed when you gave a little break only to pour another one to yourself and Kyungsoo’s empty cup. “This is incredible.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Kyungsoo unwillingly laughed at you. “Please remember to breath, I do not want to be ended in the emergency.”

“You do not have to accompany me if the noodle stuck on my throat.” you drunk your third, allowed the liquid to slide down your throat and a warmth burned in your chest as it stayed there. You poured the fourth one. “My Japanese is better than yours.”

“Due to the speed of your consumption of sake,” he started with a fair point, you had to admit. “I am not sure if you can perform your Japanese skills. Instead, it looks like you will be bubbling in the end of this night, of course if you do not manage to kill yourself. Damn, take it easy.”

“No worries, I am a tough cookie.” you arched your brow, and your eyes fixed your Udon. “I will not be drunk.”

“What makes me worried,” his eyes continued to remain fixed on you. “Your unexpected fondness of sake. Do we have to order the second o-

“Yes.” you interrupted him. “Order.”

You knew that on the contrary what you said to him, you were going to be drunk. Hell, you wanted to be. A smile tugged up on your lips as you took another mouthful bite of your food. You wanted to be a drunk tonight and relax. Kyungsoo did not refuse your wish, he ordered another bottle while you were sending the fifth cup to your stomach.

“Now, tell me.” he jabbed. “How many dates you had till now?”

“Why are you asking this out of everything?” you asked with a sincere curiosity.

“I want to elaborate your theory, but before doing that, I have to collect information on the experimental group.”

“Ah.” you swallowed thickly. Hell, what it would be, damn Kyungsoo and his logic. “Well, I had three dates which you know. I had two more, which you did not know so the count is five.”

“Five.” he blinked. “Five men are not enough to hold a theory such includes everyone on this planet, and you were telling me we all same with a great confidence.”

“They were pretty same.” you turned your head away and poured another sake. You could feel that Kyungsoo was getting more tense after every cup you drunk, but you had zero fucks to give. “I was ended up with disappointment.”

“Why?” he caught you off guard. “You never tell me the whole story. What was wrong?”

They were not you, you thought in the safe silence in your mind but there was no enough amount of sake would make you tell this to him in the world. Maybe you start to feel a little bit dizzy but even if you would be on your knees, you would not confess the real reason.

“I do not know.” Yeah, there was not enough amount of sake would make you to confess, but the amount of sake which settled in the pit of your stomach made you more talkative about your affairs. Maybe it was about the need of showing Kyungsoo that you were a fucking girl, you could attract people also. “They were not made for me, I guess.”

“This is the result.” Kyungsoo furrowed his brows. His icy resolve frozen across his features. “I want to hear the story behind this result.”

Kyungsoo could not believe how he would let you to drink your seventh cup of sake and open the second one but in the deep of his heart, he knew the real reason. He wanted you to talk. God, he needed you to talk his ear off. He could die to learn what type of guy would attract you, and he could try to be that man.

“I am not sure how to explain that but,” you rapidly shook your head again. “It is all fucking disappointments for me. I do not know what they think about me, but when I go out with someone, I always ended up in home, calling Baekhyun or Chanyeol and we talked on why I felt like shit.”

Kyungsoo knew that getting you to talk always meant for extra efforts, he never pushed you. He never dragged you into the conversations you clearly did not have an intention to have.

Till now.

Providing you with company and asking nothing in return was not his best choice today. He was okey with asking nothing in return, he never expect anything in return for his company, but today he wanted to learn about your affairs.

“Could you decide?” he whispered. “I mean, why you felt like shit in your words?”

“Do you prefer more refined vocabulary?” you chuckled, and Kyungsoo understood that you had to be dizzy right now. You had two types of chuckles, and this one definitely a result of alcohol.

He did not prevent you from pouring the eighth one.

“No, speak as you want.” he did not let you go out of his palms. You were in his palms right now, he hooked you in his net, and this was going to be first and last he dragged you to a place you obviously did not want to engage.

However, he needed to learn. Just for once, he crossed all boundaries between you. All rules.

“Putting aside your quite vocabulary,” he pushed you to continue. “What was wrong?”

“Everything.” your eyes flitted up his face. Your gaze fuelled the excitement that already started to make its way in Kyungsoo’s lower stomach, an excitement that has been brewing since years as you have been lingering in front of him for an extremely long time.

“I cannot say that they were bad people, on the contrary, they were lovely.” This was not what Kyungsoo wished to hear, your words made his heart flipped, but not in a pleasurable way. “They were kind, nice, clever and to be honest good-looking. However, I did not feel anything towards them. I tried, Kyungsoo, I tried to do my best, but I am tired of ending up with same result. I did not find them attractive.”

You suddenly remembered the kiss of one of your dates gave you. You were not sure if you could call it as a kiss, Chanyeol and Baekhyun, those dorks, laughed at you their asses off when you told them that guy pressed his lips to yours and you immediately pushed him so strong, enough to made him lost his balance and fell on his butt.

“Were they,” Kyungsoo cleaned his throat.” Good companies? I am trying to understand why it cannot work for you.”

“No, they were.” you ponder, then a laugh fallen from your lips. “They really were, especially the last one. He was a good company even if he was a bit handsy.”

Kyungsoo’s chopsticks stuttered. You said it nonchalantly, you were dizzy as fuck, he could see that, but you said it to him as if it did not mean anything that the unnamed bastard invited his hands over your body, instead he should be on his fucking knees for you. His teeth shattered; he could feel his jaw was clenched with the thoughts he had to refuse for the sake of God.

“Being a little bit handsy does not sound a good company to me.” he said between his teeth. “Is that why you ended up feeling like shit? Did he force himself on you?”

If he did, God mercy on him because Kyungsoo was not going to. You were already drinking your tenth cup; he was sure he could learn that bastard’s name. He knew that right now, he was crossing your boundaries and taking advantage of your current hiatus, he was not better than that bastard, but he was not going to stop.

“No, he touched my inner thigh during the dinner.” you whispered. “Then he kissed me after the ride to my home he gave.”

“And?” Kyungsoo had to take a deep breathe and he poured sake for himself, even though he wanted to focus on you. “Did he ask at first place?”

“He did not.” Kyungsoo felt his heart was tightening in his chest because of anger. He wanted to find that fucking bastard and fuck the shit out of him. He already started seeing you in front of the door of your home, and that moron dragged you into his arms and kissed you without asking. Did they really think, this would be romantic or manly? This was sexual attack. Kyungsoo could not endure to imagine you while that moron run his fucking pawns over your face. Pulling you into a kiss if he could call that a kiss. His blood was boiling as he could not stand someone disappointed you, destroying your ideas and hardly built self-confidence. He hated to see that, he has been watching you since the first day you met, and he was fucking aware of your self-perceptions. He bit back a wave of curses, and he resisted the dire need to ask you this guy’s name and address in order to chop his head.

“He had to ask for your content.” he literally growled, enough to make the customers at near tables turned to look at you. You blinked.

“I pushed him.” you whispered. “And he fell on his butt.”

For a second, Kyungsoo did not understand what you said, but when he understood he could not help but laughed.

“I could kill someone to see that moment.” he mumbled. “I wish I could see.”

“It was not a good memory.” you admitted. “I really hated every moment of that memory. He was a good guy, but at the end, when he kissed me, I wanted to puke my stomach out.”

Kyungsoo lost the little trail of joy.

“He was not a good guy.” He literally growled.

Suddenly, the tension was transforming into something different. Your face was becoming too warm, and your blood pressure was rocketing into sky.

It was neither Udon not sake.

You raised your eyebrows as you looked at Kyungsoo as you wanted to ask what he meant, but you kept your question to yourself.

“Why did you not tell me?” he asked. “I knew you are not talkative about these, but you could talk with me at least when you had experienced a shitty guy like that filthy bastard.”

“Well, excuse me for being so clueless,” the filter between your tongue and brain stopped working at that moment, and you lost it. “But that was my first and last kiss, and I was shocked!”

Kyungsoo’s chin was dropped. He stared at you as becoming senseless to any other sound. He took a set of full seconds to actually register your words, then his eyes widen.

You were not aware of the weight of your confession. Your mind was foggy and you already lost yourself in Kyungsoo.

“What?”

This was the best shot of him.

“It was my first kiss.” the heat of your face became unbearable. “And it was unexpected, I did not give him my consent, I was definitely in shock.”

Kyungsoo listened to your words.

“Are you,” he heard his voice. “Are you a virgin?”

“Do not say it like a blasphemy.” you could not help but protested. He looked at you as he was having a heart attack.

He actually was.

He guessed that you were not experienced but a virgin.

Godfuckingdamnit, he did not expect to hear that.

“And that bastard destroyed your first kiss.” he could not prevent himself from punching his thigh. Harshly. He was really out of his mind due to anger, he knew that he could not be with you, but destroying an experience for you was equal crossing his limits. He noted finding that guy when you come back to your homes mentally. He did not know when, how or which way but he was going to find that scumbag and make him pay for his wrong deed.

You looked so vulnerable. How could that moron dare to destroy an important moment of your life?

“Yeah, he did.” you partially smiled, Kyungsoo could not believe you were smiling. Did you lose your shit? He was supposed to ask you why you were smiling like a freak; you lifted your eyes to his. “But talking with you made me happy.”

Kyungsoo hated himself too much.

He made you talked about a horrendous memory in order to learn about your preferences. He even let you drink one and half bottle of sake. He used the old excuse in the book however after learning this incident, he realized once again, you were his priority to take care of, to look after, you had to be happy, healthy, and successful. You had to live your heart as you wished, and Kyungsoo was sure as fuck he was going to do everything in his power for you to blossom.

You were his rose after all.

Every nerve in his body may steered him to you, attracted to you like a magnet, he could refrain his feelings. Even if you were not going to come to him, he was not going to push you never again. Never.

“Next time, tell me before a date.” he snorted. “It seems to me you are bad on choosing a man, that piece of shit did it all wrong.”

Your heart was pounded in your chest.

Did Kyungsoo just point the issue of asking for content or was there anything more he indicated?

If he said something was wrong, it meant he knew the true way of doing it, fixing and giving you a proper memory. He never talk if he did not know the right way.

“How?” you asked to him with your big-doe eyes. Kyungsoo startled for a second, then understood what you asked.

“What do you mean with how?” Kyungsoo stared at you. “He had to ask for consent first, obviously. If it is yes, a man can continue.”

“What if I would say yes?” you could not help. You could not stop. There was a frustrating fire in the pit of your stomach, made you uninterested to anything but Kyungsoo. Maybe you did not know many things but you were aware of only Kyungsoo could do something about it. You did care it anymore, you just wanted Kyungsoo to show you the right way.

“There is a progress.” Kyungsoo cursed himself for telling you this. “It depends on how much you wish to move, but basically there are three bases and before every step you are going to take, you have to ask your partner if she or he is still okey with the progress.”

“I see.” you nod.

Both of you started to think about each other in that progress. What would it be, how you react to each other after waiting since the first day you met. Both of you rejected to think about it, and both of you know that you were going to imagine it when you were going to be alone in the safety of your rooms.

“That’s why that scumbag did it all wrong. If you want someone to touch you, remember asking for consent is the most important rule.” Kyungsoo disgusted by the idea of someone touching you. Even thinking about him giving him headache, he was annoyed by the fact that you were going to choose someone, and you were learning the rules from Kyungsoo.

To choose someone.

He was mad. He was angry. God, he wanted to set something on fire.

“Is there any different rule?” you could not take your eyes off Kyungsoo.

“Many.” he was back to giving short answers.

“I want you to teach me.” you said without thinking.

“Ha?”

Kyungsoo was not sure if he could hear you correctly or not.

“You told me that guy did it all wrong.” You were not going back from here this time. You were fucking not. “I want you to teach me the right way.”

Kyungsoo was sure there was no capacity left his lungs to breathe. He kept looking at you, you waited his response patiently.

Was it you or sake?

You did not know. You did not care.

You just wanted to feel Kyungsoo. Helping you on the issue was only something he could do, by your -twisted by alcohol- logic, you persuaded yourself, if he put you in this situation, he had to help you getting out of it.

“How much you drink?” you heard Kyungsoo, but you were already decided what you were going to do. He was going to say yes. He had to say yes.

“I am not drunk, Soo.” you said. “I am sober as fuck. Teach me.”

Kyungsoo stared at you for a while, then he stood up and reached to your hand.

“Come.” he said. “We are going back to hotel.”

Kyungsoo felt like a hunter, he finally grabbed your hand, while he was paying for food, he did not let you go away from him. Instead, he pressed your body to his, you closed your eyes when your chest perfectly pressed on his toned forearm. You heavily breathed, Kyungsoo led you out of the restaurant. You immediately headed to the way back to the bus station, but he stopped you.

“We are going to take a cab.” Kyungsoo. “Faster.”

You could not help but laugh at his eagerness to be back. Your heart started to sing inside of your chest, for a magnificent moment you could almost make yourself believe that Kyungsoo wanted you as much as you wanted him. You wanted to devour him you did not know what made you bold at this level but you just wanted to drown in him. You knew that he was going to lecture you about what you had to do when you have a date, when you would be back at hotel, but you really hoped for at least he was going to give you a demonstration on kissing someone.

If he would not, you did not know you could overcome with that moment.

Kyungsoo was having an existential crisis. He was not sure if he understood you correctly, but he had to get you back to the hotel, he was sure of it since he really did not know until when he could control himself just like he did not want to rip that fucking dress off you and have you over and over.

At that moment, he saw a cab was coming to your direction and he turned to you.

He saw your eyes, shining by pure desire.

He lost his shit for the first time in seven years of your friendship.

He pulled you between his arms, his face was fucking close to you.

“It is okey, Kyungsoo.” you literally cooed.

He did not waste a minute and caressed your face.

#kyungsoo #exo d.o.#d.o. rose #d.o. solo #d.o. empathy #d.o. exo #doh kyungsoo #do kyungsoo #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo smut #exo series #kyungsoo fanfic #kyungsoo scenarios #kyungsoo smut #kyungsoo x reader #exo d.o #d.o.

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yzkhr · 4 years ago

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take me laser tagging and then push me into a corner and kiss me. then shoot me and walk away.

Today was almost the perfect definition of a relaxing day for Tokyo University's criminology student Kudo Shinichi. The weather was nice, with some of the sun's warm rays making it's way through the gaps of their window in the living room. The place was quiet, free of any random advices from his father and constant doting of his mother.

With him laying comfortably on the soft couch with his hand holding his favorite mystery novel and a cup of steaming hot coffee on the near table, today was just a nice day to chill.

Not until his girlfriend came in ruined it all.

Stomping her feet rather aggressively, Mouri Ran made her way towards her boyfriend whose obvious comfort in his position made her already bad mood turn worse.

He felt her presence but decided to pay no heed to it, not wanting to peel his eyes of the most exciting part. However, ignoring her was proven impossible as she literally flopped her body down on top of him, startling his composure.

"Ran" he reprimanded. However, looking at her innocent—still with a hint of annoynce—face, Shinichi decided to just let her be. Besides, having Ran close to him was never a bad thing.

Then she just had to insert her head in the crook of his neck, making his previous calm heartbeat faster. He tried to focus on the book, but the warm inhaling and exhaling on his neck wasn't making it any easier.

But, the last straw of his ability to be comprehensive was gone when Ran started kissing the side of his neck lightly.

Feeling his entire body slightly tremor, he tried to say something—anything— but his thoughts were cut off when she slightly sucked a sensitive spot. He couldn't help but let out a grunt.

The so called precious book in Shinichi's hand was now gone, as he was grabbing on to something more important. Feeling his hands around her waist, Kudo Shinichi's little tease finally spoke.

"Shinichi?" she asked, deliberately whispering into his ear.

"Hmm?"

He tried to gather his thoughts but they were all blocked out by pleasure.

"You love me right?"

It was a weird question, seeing how utterly submissive he is right now to her but he answered nonetheless, although with half of a mind.

"yah."

"You'll do anything for me?"

On any normal day, he would have been frightened at such a question but today wasn't a normal day. Specially if his girlfriend is already slightly nibbling at his left ear.

"yah.."

"Then, you'll go laser tagging with me?"

At this point, his mind was already somewhere else. Without even thinking about it as he's focusing on her kisses and nibbles instead of words, Shinichi instinctively answered.

"yahh.."

One second she was on top of him—making him lose his focus and ability to understand a thing except for the fact that she was kissing him—the next Ran was already on her way to her room, skipping lightly.

After a few milliseconds, Shinichi's brain catches up, finally getting the purpose of Ran's unusual and sudden actions a while ago. He hastily stood up and started making his way towards her and knocked three desperate times.

"Ran!" he protested, not wanting to leave his safe haven(that was completely destroyed) but Ran only answered in a muffled voice through the walls of their room.

"You said yes!" she even spoke in a sing-song manner which implied that she was already almost done dressing up and backing out would be unacceptable.

Kudo Shinichi ruffled his hair in frustration, the events just a few minutes earlier repeating in his head.

"She got me." he whispered, defeated.

It was a good thing joypolis was not far away from their house so they can get in the laser tag place easier and get out of there faster as well.

As they got into the vest room after the short briefing of the game, Shinichi was still very contemplative if wasting time at a game of laser tag more worth it than finishing his mystery novel back at home but seeing Ran's bright smile as she's wearing her vest similar to a child definitely made Shinichi lean on laser tagging.

As everyone—except Shinichi— get ready to enter the gaming arena, Ran pulled him out of his inner thoughts by slightly elbowing him at the side.

"Why do you look so bored Shinichi? Come on, it'll be fun." she chided, as if forgetting she dragged him out of the house.

"Sorry but my definition of fun today would be finishing my mystery book at home."

His girlfriend only raised an eyebrow and grinned at his remark.

"But that's boring. Laser tagging is so much more fun!"

He gave up, knowing clearly their definition of fun differ too much from one another.

But, maybe Ran could be right. Maybe Laser Tagging could be entertaining and not boring. Not to brag or anything but, Shinichi was pretty sure he can beat everyone with his eyes closed so he just hoped the game wouldn't be over in just a few minutes.

He lied. They were losing.

It wasn't even because his team was bad, it was because the other group were just a lot stronger. What frustrated him even more was the fact that it was only a single person that made the other team stronger. Of course, it was none other than his karate champion girlfriend.

Half of him was proud, this being the proof of her speed and good reflexes but the other half was annoyed, knowing he was losing and he can't do anything about it.

It was almost impossible to caught a Mouri Ran off guard. Before they can even get close to her, she would already feel their presence and turn around to shoot them. They also can't go face to face. There was nothing left except to--

Well, Shinichi was pretty sure he was going to get his ass kicked if wouldn't work, but it was worth the try.

Ran was confident. They were winning by a landslide. It was fairly easy compared to her battles with Kasumi-senpai. Her enemies were quick to spot and with her quick reflexes, she can shoot them in no time. She was sure that nothing would get in the way of their team to win.

If only she didn't get so cocky.

Ran was about to turn around a corner to try and find her targets when a cold hand yanked her to the opposite direction instead.

Having no time to react, she found herself being pushed into a close corner, her back making contact to the frigid wall. Since it was dark, with only a few placed neon lights in their area, she couldn't see the culprit. The stranger's hands were now on both side of her shoulders, successful at pining her. Despite the situation, she did take note how gentle they were, making sure that she didn't get hurt from the push.

Finally finding her voice and composure, Ran attempted to scold whoever the person was only to lost them again, this time, through a kiss.

For a second, she didn't know how to react. Involuntarily, her clenched fist was on their way to her kisser's face, only for Ran to stop it halfway, tasting a familiar minty taste from her mouth.

'Shinichi' Ran immediately thought.

Still having a little bit of her sanity left, she tried to break away—weakly, being distracted at how nice the kissing was—but to absolutely no avail.

In fact, he only leaned in harder, pushing his tongue inside her mouth, this time, making her totally blank.

The rational part of her was practically screaming, telling her how wrong and embarrassing the scene was but all the irrational part wanted was to pull him even closer and deepen the kiss more than ever. So she did.

Ran wrapped her armed left hand and empty right hand around her boyfriend, coaxing him closer.

At that moment, all that mattered was his lips on hers and their body making contact with each other as they push and pull.

When Ran wanted to go laser tagging, she meant it with every sense of the word. But perhaps, stuff like this would happened and it wouldn't be so bad. In fact, she might even prefer it than shooting beams at light vests.

Not being contented with just her lips, Shinichi went for her neck, and sucked it lightly, the same spot she did his earlier that day.

She definitely preferred this.

This wasn't the plan.

He was just suppposed to kiss her lightly and distract her for a short period of time so why is he still there, pining her against the wall, desperately kissing each other like there's no tomorrow?

An eternity pass but neither one wanted to pull away. He should've been running out of ari by now. But for him, kissing Ran had never been so tiring. In fact, Shinichi could do it all day if he was permitted to. The odd sweet taste that only she have—not that he kissed any other girl before— he wanted to name it.

The two of them completely forgot about the ongoing game, with them playing a more exciting and pleasurable game on their own.

Fortunately—or unfortunately—a tiny bit of Shinichi came back to it's senses by hearing a faint shooting sound, bringing him to his current task at hand.

Knowing that if he stayed longer kissing her, he'd just be sucked in again so he move to her neck, sucking it, with both the intent of distracting her and something else.

Seeing Ran completely dazed, he slowly held his gun up to her stomach while still kissing her, albeit less aggressive for fear he'll lose himself and never stop.(which doesn't sound so bad.)

With one last smack, he pulled the trigger.

The loud sound effect of a shooting beam broke Ran out her trance with her slightly nodding her head off. She was breathing hard, still trying to catch air from the activity.

Seconds passed as the post-kiss effect was finally gone, that's only when she noticed one of her lights were off. The previous sound of a shooting beam came back to her.

She looked up to see Shinichi grinning, slightly waving his gun off. In that moment, everything clicked.

Ran's face warped from the state confusion to anger almost instantly. Shinichi took that as a sign to get away.

"Shinichi!" Before she could even begin to run after him, he was already gone. Advantage of a spccer player with strong legs.

Having the kissing scene played out in her mind, she sighed with mixed in feelings in them.

"He got me."

I'm new to writing kissing scenes so please bear with me :))

#detective conan #shinran #one-shot #fluff

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thrillridesz · 4 years ago

Text

loving you ▫ hyunjae

➳ pairing: idol!hyunjae x female reader ➳ genre: angst ➳ word count: 3.2k ➳ requested?: yes a/n: unedited! also hope this was good lmao it’s my first full angst fic so fingers crossed XP do let me know what you guys think!! any form of feedback is greatly appreciated!

“Mommy, how much longer?”

Your 5 year old daughter peers up at you with lidded eyes, already starting to get bored and worn out from the prolonged wait under the summer heat. She leans against you, her little hands grasping your bigger ones, a small yawn escaping from her lips. You reached up to run your fingers affectionately through her soft hair, feeling her hum quietly.

“Just a little longer, sweetie. Just a little longer,” you whisper and she nods, starting to drift off to sleep. Looping your arm behind her back and holding her close, your eyes swept the vicinity cautiously, highly aware of the confused stares being shot in your direction.

The park was teeming with people but a majority of them weren’t your usual park goers just going about their own business. They were fangirls and fanboys and throngs of them. It was easy to identify who they were with their huge, professional looking cameras slung around their necks as well as the huge multi-coloured banners they carried with them and the wearable fan merchandise they wore. The atmosphere was lively and full of vibrant energy with excitement practically radiating off of them as they huddled around a makeshift stage and a long table coupled with chairs that were set up on the park square. Although the summer heat was sweltering, it did nothing to dull their mood as they waited for the arrival of their idols. It was a small meet and greet session of sorts on a hot summer’s day but it did not deter fans from showing up.

As they waited, some were beginning to cast you odd looks as you sat on a nearby bench with your daughter in your arms, seemingly holding a ticket stub in your hand. It was a ticket for the meet and greet session later. From the looks on their faces, you could tell they were wondering how a lady like you with a child in tow would even find the time to come to a meet and greet, especially in this weather but you paid them no mind. Staring at the ticket blankly as you hugged your daughter who was fast asleep closer to you, you couldn’t help but feel your hands begin to tremble.

Suddenly, a piercing squeal broke the tense atmosphere in the park, a girl pointing shakily at a huge,black van that had rolled up some distance away, behind a barrier that separated them and the stage from the fans. As the crowd rushed forward excitedly, you felt a sense of foreboding within you instead, feeling so far from excited or even remotely happy.

You could look from a distance as the van door slid open and out stepped the members of the music sensation, THE BOYZ. With unparalleled talent and dashing good looks to match, these boys were instant heartthrobs, capturing hearts everywhere they went and quickly gaining popularity amongst the public. As they emerged from the vehicle one by one, you felt your heart begin to beat faster as you grip on your daughter’s hand tightened. When he finally stepped out, trailing behind the rest of the members with a smile on his face, you felt your heart flutter despite yourself.

There he was. Lee Jaehyun or better known by his stage name, Hyunjae.

It had been a little over five years since you had seen him in person but he still looked the exact same as how you had remembered him, with that bright trademark smile of his that would light up any room he is in. Watching his cruise by the fans and across the park to take his place along with the others on the wooden stage felt surreal, as if you couldn’t believe this was really happening.

“Mommy, who are they? Are they who we’re waiting for?”

Your daughter asked in a sleepy voice, rousing from her slumber from the loud noises and squeals emitted by the fans. You smiled down shakily at her as you held her small face in your hand.

“Yes, they are.”

Hyunjae would have given almost anything to be back in the dorm room to catch up on some sleep.

Grimacing a little at the brightness of the sun shining down relentlessly on the earth, he tried his best to maintain the smile on his face. Feeling Kevin nudge him a little, he straightened and flashed the crowd a dazzling smile despite his fatigue as they posed for pictures. As much as he’d have loved to be asleep and enjoying himself in good ol’ slumberland, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of joy and pride in his heart whenever he stood before the fans. It was thanks to them that THE BOYZ even got to where they were today. Words couldn’t have expressed how grateful or happy he was to have them yet sometimes… Hyunjae stifled a yawn as he listened to the host making his introductory speech; he wished he could’ve had a bit more time to himself. His eyes swept the crowd curiously and as he looked up to stare into the distance, he saw a certain someone that made his heart still.

No way.

The figure was approaching slowly from behind with a small child in her hand. Since practically everyone was too preoccupied with the ongoing event, nobody had noticed her but he did. He most definitely did. He hadn’t seen your face in years but he recognised you the moment his sights landed on you. A 100 years could pass and he would still have been able to remember you. Hyunjae tried not to let himself be distracted by how beautiful you looked under the sun, the sunlight giving you a seemingly glowing look. There was a sense of dread in him but he couldn’t help but be enamoured by your beauty, especially after years without a single interaction. As his eyes drifted down and he spotted your child, he felt his heart fall with a sloppy splat and chills started to set in, so much so that he could feel cold sweat running down his back even as he stood under the sun.

“Hyung, are you ok? You look a little pale.” Kevin whispered, his eyes crinkling with concern in them as he placed a hand on his back reassuringly. Following his gaze, the latter couldn’t help but gasp.

“That’s…”

Hyunjae gritted his teeth nervously.

“Yes. It’s y/n, alright.”

You could hear the fans talking among themselves behind you as you handed the staff your ticket stub for the fanmeet. Trying your best to ignore them, you gripped onto your daughter’s hand nervously while the guy stamped your ticket.

From the corner of your eye, you could feel Hyunjae’s gaze on you. It felt hot and searing, as if his gaze was literally boring holes into you. You felt your daughter lean into you as she started to notice the reaction of the crowd behind you, with their curious looks and loud whisperings. Holding her close to you, you kept a firm stance as the guy handed you back your ticket. As you proceeded to approach the table where the boys were seated for the meet and greet, the guy held out a hand, stopping you. You peered at him quizzically, your arm holding your daughter closer almost protectively.

“I’m afraid only one of you can proceed with the meet and greet.”

You felt your mouth go dry as you asked, “W-What?”

He gestured pointedly at the single ticket in your hand.

“One ticket per person only.”

You looked at him wide-eyed as your daughter’s little hands held onto you.

“I… I can’t possibly leave my daughter alone here!”

The guy shrugged, like he couldn’t be bothered.

“Sorry, that’s the rules. I just work here, no can do.”

You looked down at your daughter who stared up at you innocently, not realising the situation you have on your hands. You couldn’t possibly leave her alone in this crowd, not with people pushing and talking over everyone else. Is this going to be all for nothing? Gazing at the single ticket in your hand quietly, the staff tutted impatiently at you.

“Lady if you want to proceed, please do. Don’t hold up the line.”

“The girl can stay by my side right here,” a voice spoke up and the both of you turned.

Kevin had a small smile on his face as he gestured at the empty space next to him, seeing as he was first in line.

“But-”

“I insist.” He said in a voice that indicated whatever he said was final.

Reluctantly, the guy waved you in and as you walked towards Kevin, you felt like you were on edge as if you weren’t sure what to do. Do you thank him? Do you talk to him as if it was the old times when you could hang around them freely?

“It’s been awhile, y/n.” He said warmly as you sat down on the seat opposite from him. Looking to your right, you watched as Hyunjae turned away quickly. He wasn’t very far - Only a couple seats away.

“Yes, it has been.” You replied shakily, trying to keep your cool.

Kevin peered at you with a knowing look in his eyes.

“Y/n, I may not be able to understand how you’re feeling right now-”

“And you never will.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly, a little alarmed at your remark. A look of embarrassment flickered across his face.

“Ok, that was wrong of me to say, I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

You were silent for a moment before you said, “I don’t mean to lash out at you.”

Kevin smiles reassuringly at you.

“It’s ok.”

“Mommy, who’s this?” Your daughter who was standing beside him chipped in.

Before you could reply, he grinned at her.

“I’m Kevin! What is your name?”

Suddenly shy under his gaze, she replied in a small voice with her head down.

“I’m Chaeryeong.”

“Chaeryeong, that’s a really sweet name. Are you as sweet as your name implies?”

Growing red in the face, your daughter covered her face and turned away. As much as you hated to admit it, seeing the two of them interact was extremely heartwarming and you couldn’t help but allow a smile to tug at your lips.

Kevin chuckled as he turned to you.

“She’s cute.”

You nodded. “She really is.”

“She’s… His. Isn’t she?” He said, in a lower voice but more serious now.

You clenched your fists tightly at your sides.

“She is.”

“How have the two of you been?”

“We’ve been good. Thanks for asking.” You said in a neutral tone, deflecting his attempts at a conversation once more.

“That’s excellent to hear.” He could only smile in return.

The girl next to you was beginning to leave her seat, signalling it was time to move along the line.

“It was great meeting you Kevin.” You said hastily as you moved on towards Sangyeon who wore an extremely surprised look on his face as he observed you. Turning to Kevin, you noticed the widening of his eyes at the sight of Chaeryeong.

Bracing yourself for yet another awkward conversation, you were prepared to move when you felt Kevin hold onto your hand. Swiveling to look at him, he shook your hand firmly.

“I’m here for you anytime.”

As he let go, you felt a piece of scrap paper in your hands with a number scrawled haphazardly on it.

“I don’t need it.”

“Then feel free to throw it away later. For now, just keep it.” He said gently before turning to the next fan in line with a cheery grin, effectively ending the conversation.

Before Hyunjae was Kevin, Sangyeon, Chanhee, Juyeon and Sunwoo. As you sat in front of them, the reaction you got was all the same. Pure alarm and surprise followed by an extremely awkward conversation. The questions had mostly been the same.

“How have you been?”

“Are you coping well?”

“How’s your daughter doing?”

All of which you deflected or avoided answering.

It felt like ages before you found yourself just right next to Hyunjae and in front of Sunwoo who looked uncomfortable with how things were. Although the two of you made small talk ( though it was more of Sunwoo trying to talk to you and you answering with one worded replies ), you could feel the tension between you and Hyunjae. His eyes drifted to you occasionally even as he engaged in conversation with the fan in front of him. As he laughed, you could tell there was no mirth or joy in his eyes but rather panic and fear. His hands were balled into fists in front of him and you could see the vein bulging on the top of his hand and you had to resist the urge to scoff.

Eventually Sunwoo got the message that you weren’t all that interested to actually engage in any form of small talk and he only remained silent, feeling beyond unsettled as he sat wedged in between you and Hyunjae. When the fan in front of Hyunjae moved, you stared intently at him as you took your seat in front of him. The smile he was wearing looked so forced that you wondered if he risked pulling a facial muscle somewhere.

“Hi, y/n. Long time no see.” He said with a charming smile on his face but he wasn’t fooling you. You could see the turmoil in his eyes.

“Long time no see indeed.” You replied coldly and he flinched at the iciness of your voice, his smile wavering slightly. “Is that really what you say to an ex lover you abandoned?”

The alarm and terror in his eyes was real and obvious, seemingly shocked at how straightforward you were and honestly, you didn’t just surprise him. You surprised yourself as well.

His voice dropped to a mere, meek whisper, in a fashion so unlike his usual boisterous and outgoing persona as seen on camera or with friends.

“I didn’t mean to, y/n. You know that. I had no choice.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to pound at his chest. You wanted to reach across and throttle him. Yet, all you did was take in a deep breath as you sat on your hands.

“No choice?” The bitterness in your voice made him look up at you. “No choice? You had every choice, Jaehyun. Every. Single. Fucking. Choice.”

He bit his lip anxiously, the regret and emotional grief clear in those dark eyes of his that you used to say that you could stare into forever.

“We were bound to prepare for debut soon. I had to end it abruptly.” Hyunjae pleaded softly, looking at if he was about to break down.

You raised an eyebrow at him before you leaned forward and instinctively, he leaned back but you gripped on to his hand, pulling him forward gently but firmly. You caught his gaze and said, “Don’t you dare shrink away right now. You will not be a turtle this time, retreating into your cosy little shell at the first sign of conflict. Be a man and face me.”

Hyunjae swallowed thickly and you continued.

“Scared? You should be. You left me to be a wreck, you abandoned me when I needed you most. You, Lee Jaehyun are the lowest form of life I’ve ever seen. I don’t care if you do not want to take responsibility but I just want you to know that the reason all of this happened is partly your fault. I want you to live with that knowledge in mind.” You spat out with as much conviction as you could but you could feel the bitter tears begin to prick at the back of your mind.

“Please don’t say that! I still love you dearly, y/n. Please, I really do. I was just really confused and career driven and I-”

“And you what Jaehyun? And you what?”

He stared at you with such tenderness in his eyes that you almost fell for him all over again. Almost.

“I missed you every day. I really did.”

You felt a choking feeling in your throat as you echoed, “You missed me?”

He nodded sadly, clasping your hands in his.

“I did.”

You were quiet for a brief moment as you tried to take in what he was saying. Did he mean it or was this another of his lies?

Only one way to tell.

Pointing to where Chaeryeong stood next to Kevin at the start of the line, your heart constricted in an almost numbing pain as you watched her giggle with joy while popping bubbles that Kevin was blowing, a huge smile on his face.

“Look at her, Jaehyun.”

“I-I…”

“I said, look at her!”

Slowly, he turned his head to where you were looking at Chaeryeong.

You watched as his eyes softened momentarily only to harden with denial and terror. Internally, you felt like something in you died once and for all.

It was hope.

It was subconscious hope you didn’t even know you had. It was a shred of hope you had that maybe, just maybe he would have at least been able to accept Chaeryeong as his own flesh and blood. That he could maybe acknowledge her.

Apparently however, fate had other plans. One look at the horrified look on his face shattered any form of expectation, hope and dreams of reuniting you had. You could hear the distant crack of your heart as it finally shattered into a million pieces. The ridiculousness of it all almost made you want to laugh out loud.

What was it you expected? Did you really expect him to drop everything just to come back to you and Chaeryeong? Give up his golden career for you and a child he had never even once interacted with?

“S-She’s a lovely child.” He croaked out, turning to you with a weak smile which quickly fell as he saw the look on your face.

“Y/n…”

“Yeah, she is and you know what? You can shove it and stay the fuck away from me and her with your nasty lies and disgusting self.” The tears were beginning to stream down your face as you withdrew your hands from his, feeling the warmth from his lingering touch disappear. He stared at you, realisation at his own reaction dawning upon him.

Frantically, he spluttered, “That was not what I mean! I was just-”

“Surprised? So overwhelmed with ‘love’? Or maybe you mean repulsed?” You bit out each word venomously and you could see Sunwoo shrinking further and further into his seat while Jacob who was sitting next to him watched you with concern.

“My greatest regret in life is falling in love with you, Lee Jaehyun. My greatest regret is being with you. My greatest fucking regret is ever meeting you.”

“Y/n!”

With that, you made a mad dash from the stage, grabbing Chaeryeong’s hand in yours and storming off. The crowd stared at you, confused and shocked at your supposed outburst. The tears were now rolling uncontrollably down your cheeks and from the corner of your eye, you could see Kevin standing up as if trying to approach you but the ache in your heart only intensified when you realised that Jaehyun simply sat where he was, seemingly shell shocked but never attempting to approach you.

“My greatest regret in life is falling in love with you, Lee Jaehyun.” You repeated to yourself through tears.

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takohebi · 4 years ago

Text

Serpentine Escapade

Pairing: f!MC/Yuu x Jamil Viper

tags: fluff, romantic tension || word count: 2431

Summary: The NRC was hosting an extravagant Ball. Yuu wanted a few moments away from the party. A familiar snake slowly glides up to her.

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Yuu slipped away from the main hall quietly. The NRC Ball was a huge event, with student representatives coming from other colleges as well. Yuu was overwhelmed by the number of people on the dance floor, swirling together delightedly as the light music club provided music and entertainment. It wasn’t like she was lonely- she had already danced a lot, albeit clumsily with Ace and Deuce and even twirled an indignant Grim around a few times. Then Azul and the Leech twins danced with her, their movements elegant and graceful despite being mermen. And she had promised Cater and Lilia dances later. No, Yuu wasn’t lonely; she just wanted a short time away from the bright lights and the crowds. She may not be as asocial as Idia (who did not turn up today, although Ortho did) but big crowds still made her feel nervous and overwhelmed.

She retreated to one of the more reclusive balconies surrounding the humongous ballroom. There was no one around. She let out a sigh of relief.

Yuu stood in the wide balcony overlooking the immaculate Pomefiore gardens. The music was a dull rhythm in the background now, a comforting constant in the otherwise still and quiet night. Yuu sighed. It had been many months since she was whisked away by the carriage. She had essentially restarted her life here. New friends, new rules, new troubles, new...feelings. It was definitely an improvement from her old life, so much so that she continues to repress those memories when they inevitably intrude upon her life in Twisted Wonderland. Shaking her head to dispel the rising mix of apprehension and unease whenever she slipped and remembered her past, Yuu tried to focus her thoughts on the faraway beat, tapping her foot in cadence. It was a tried and true technique that kept her from spiraling and soon she was back to being herself again, eyes closed, body swaying gently to the music, her foot keeping the beat.

“Yuu? Is something wrong?”

A familiar voice jolted Yuu out of her focused distraction. Her eyes flew open to meet Jamil’s, her heart racing a mile a minute. Jamil walked casually towards her, his expression collected but maybe hinted with a slight bit of concern. Maybe. At any rate, Yuu didn’t say anything but watched him get closer, her eyes idly taking in his appearance, though not for the first time this evening. Jamil hardly wore shirts. His dorm uniform and gym clothes always consisted of a hoodie. So seeing him buttoned up in an elegant suit was a special treat. Jamil looked good in everything he wore, and tonight was no exception. The well-tailored suit accentuated his long legs and lean body, making Yuu’s breath catch with every stolen glance during the Ball.

Yuu realised she was attracted to the reticent vice dorm-head shortly after his overblot incident, when Kalim started inviting her over for dinners or mancala games. These sojourns almost always ended up with her staying back to help Jamil clean up and settle things in order and during these moments, Yuu came to realise 2 things: Jamil Viper was a very capable man, who balanced his duties, academics and hobbies perfectly and without complaint, which was pretty cool and admirable. And also, Jamil Viper was very handsome, alluring and physically attractive.

The second observation hit Yuu with the power of a speeding truck when she first saw him laugh at a silly story she shared with him as they were wrapping up after an evening of mancala. His mirthful expression combined with his voice ringing out in amusement dazed Yuu and she realised she was already in love with him for a while now, enjoying their small, quiet moments in each others’ company in the opulent Scarabia Dorm.

At present Jamil had reached her spot in the balcony, the worry on his face a tad bit clearer. “Hey are you feeling well? You look spaced out. Everything okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

“Oh, I just wanted a small break from the crowd. I am fine. Needed a moment away, that’s all.”

“I get what you mean. The Ball is really grand and it seems with each passing year, more people turn up for these events. It’s just...I saw you leave the Hall and not return and-”

“Ha you thought I was going to run away? Away from the delicious desserts? No way!”

“- and was concerned that you might not be well.” he continues, eyebrows creasing disapprovingly at her feeble attempt at deflection. His annoyed face was adorable, Yuu thought to herself. But she refrained from saying it. It won’t be wise to annoy him further.

So she smiled and said “I am fine, Jamil. Thank you for asking. I do intend to return to the Ball before Lilia hexes me for spurning his dance offer."

She gave a shallow laugh as Jamil’s earlier words sunk in. Had she continued watching Jamil as she spoke, she might have seen his frown get deeper when she mentioned Lilia and her promise to the enigmatic fae. But Yuu now had other thoughts in mind.

So he had watched her leave huh? He had watched her leave. The idea of Jamil looking at her from afar made her insides flutter. She too, had been looking at him during the event, quite a lot in fact. She saw him dance with a lot of students from his dorm, Azul (though Jamil seemed extremely reluctant about it), Ace and Floyd. She was hoping to dance with him at some point too, making a mental note to ask him later. And now he is here, with her, under the waning moon, alone and away from the party. As she slowly started to think of how to phrase the question without being weird, Jamil spoke.

“Would you like to dance with me?”

Yuu’s head snapped to face Jamil. He was looking away, expression neutral but she swore he was blushing slightly, the same look he had on his birthday celebration, many weeks ago. She blinked rapidly, her mind blanking. She wasn’t mentally prepared for this!!

Jamil looked at her, his frown had returned. Yuu panicked for a moment before forging on.

“It’s fine-”

“YES”

“I want to dance with you Jamil. I mean it.” Yuu grinned, barely able to contain her excitement. She hoped the semi-darkness helped hide her blush.

Her heart hammered in her chest as Jamil wordlessly held out his hand, a soft smile on his face. Why was this man so beautiful?

Almost too eagerly Yuu took it, and Jamil pulled her into a slow dance, in perfect harmony with the distant, ongoing music.

Now as noted previously, Yuu had already danced quite a bit before but somehow this time, it felt more...personal. Was it because her partner was a man she’d been slowly falling in love with? Was it because right now they were away, separate from the rest of the school, rest of the world, tangled together in this moment of time?

At any rate, all she could think of right now was the feeling of Jamil’s hand in hers, his other on her waist and the proximity of their bodies, their breaths. It felt intimate and it made her forget to breathe. Her body followed Jamil’s mechanically, and she was happy to be led by him. It gave her time to drink him in. She could hear the soft tinkling of the bell in his hair accessory. It was a soft reminder of their closeness. Her eyes wandered more. She noticed his lashes were a kind of long, and his makeup for tonight seemed immaculate. Oh his ear had a small mole, how cute.

She continued.

The muscles in his neck flexed and moved slightly with their steps, the sight mesmerizing Yuu. Ha, Jamil didn’t need his unique magic to hold her captive. His lips were gently sloped into a casual small smile and Yuu could not believe her heart could beat any faster, but it did. Her eyes raked over his hands next- seeing their intertwined hands made her skin tingle with happiness and excitement. His other rested steadily on her waist and Yuu wondered how would it feel to let it wander. He smelled nice too. Some kind of soft cologne. Yuu was careful not to inhale too much, lest she forget herself and do something inappropriate. Ahh, she was enjoying this dance very much.

Though her eyes ravished his body and face, Yuu did not look into Jamil’s eyes. She knew if she did, she would do or say something stupid and or crass and she was scared. Scared of breaking this magical spell. The air around her felt electric and heady. And she wasn’t done with it yet. Just a few moments more...

Suddenly Jamil’s grip on her hand grew a slight bit tighter, breaking her indulgent thoughts and prompting her to glance quickly at him. He was again looking away, again frowning and looking a little...pouty?

“Hey are you okay?” Yuu asked, slightly panicky. Was she dancing badly? Is he bored?

He started. He probably squeezed her hand unknowingly. Odd. Jamil is usually pretty calculative of everything. Impulsive is not a word to describe him. He sighed softly, the action fanning Yuu’s hair and gently caressing her neck, causing her mind to go into overdrive. Focus! She has to focus! It won’t do to lose her mental faculties right when Jamil is about to speak.

“It’s not me, I am worried you are not enjoying this.”

“What?! Why would you say that?” Yuu asked with a laugh, the idea that she could possibly not be enjoying being held by Jamil seemed so absurd.

Jamil huffed, lips quirking, accentuating his pout. Lord this man can be so endearing! He seemed to be carefully thinking about his words. Hmm, he usually didn’t need to think so much.

“Earlier… when- hmm. When you danced with Ace, you were talking...laughing. You seemed more- enthusiastic. You can be honest with me you know? I have faith in my dancing but not in being an enjoyable companion.”

Jamil seemed to be picking his words slowly, cautiously. Yuu was not.

“Jamil! That was because Ace was constantly mimicking Crewel as we danced. His imitations are really funny. Well you know how Ace is, he is never serious.” Yuu laughed nervously but Jamil didn’t look convinced. Yuu’s brain raced, trying to find words and string them together.

Instinctively she tightened her grip on Jamil’s hand and leaned in, hoping her panic doesn’t show. “Jamil, I swear I am having the time of my life right now. I- I don’t know how to express it well. But I would rather be here dancing with you, than with anyone or anywhere else right this moment. I really enjoy your company and would have refused to dance if I really did not want to. You know that right? I am here because I want to.”

Jamil’s eyes widened slightly, his lips parted as if to say something but no words were spoken. Yuu realised she had done what she was avoiding- looking at Jamil’s eyes and with them being this close, she noted his eyes were a pretty grey, the light from the Hall casting a warm glow. Yuu felt her thoughts trailing to his lips again. They were right there. She glanced at them and wet her own. How easy would it be to accidentally lean in a bit and brush her lips against his. A small chaste kiss. She let out a breath and quickly shot a look at his eyes again. They were searing into hers and she could see him quickly work something out as he held her stare.

How and when she did not know but Jamil’s hand had now moved from her waist to her face, cupping it gently. His expression shifted to something a little cocky. The way he looked when he knew he was winning. Smug and certain. Yuu hoped her heartbeat wasn’t actually audible because right now, all she could hear was the roaring in her ears.

And Jamil’s voice. His silky smooth voice as he spoke in a lowered tone-

“Yuu. If it’s ok with-”

“YUU! THERE YOU ARE!!”

Ace’s voice cut through the moment, cleanly slicing the tension and Jamil instantly leaned back, face immediately resuming his usual stoic expression. Yuu loved her friend but right now she was angrily wishing she could use magic because she would very much like to curse him for a year. But the look of relief on his face as he ran towards the two softened her heart. A bit. Yuu was still pretty mad.

Behind him, Deuce appeared, a little out of breath, holding Grim. Evidently they were looking for Yuu. “We were worried about you. You could have at least told us before taking off y’know.” Grim said, a look of exasperation on his face.

“Sorry, I chanced upon her sometime ago but she wanted some fresh air so I was accompanying her.” Jamil replied, politely.

“Well we just didn’t want her missing out on the desserts. That’s all.” Ace said, crossing his arms. Sure Ace. That’s all. His reluctance to admit his feelings made Yuu smile. Her idiot trio were most definitely the cutest people in the campus. Uh, save for Jamil. And Kalim. Hmm maybe that title has a lot of competition.

Deuce was on his phone, maybe texting someone. Ace was talking, “-yeah tell Ruggie that we found her and she’s fine. Hang on, maybe don’t tell him. He still owes me for cheating me out of my lunch the other day…” As Deuce elbowed him and the bickering started, Yuu’s idle thoughts were interrupted by a pressure on her hand. Her heart skipped several beats when she realised Jamil was holding her hand throughout this even if they broke apart the moment Ace spoke. Yuu slowly glanced at him and saw him stare at her friends, with a blank expression.

“When the light music club performs “Buzzing Currents”, come back here, I will be there. We have a dance and other...things to finish. I’ll be seeing you.” Gently letting go of Yuu with a final squeeze, Jamil strode away, citing some excuse about disciplining his dorm. As she stole one last glance, he looked back, a cheeky smile on his face and eyes narrowed in what looked like amusement. He looked like a cat that got the cream.

Yuu couldn’t wait to be eaten.

#jamil viper #jamil x mc #jamil x yuu #twst fanfic #twst #twisted wonderland #whew i wrote a fic!!#i am considering a sequel #lets see #i love jamil so much lmao #you can see how thirsty i am for him in this fic #it's so self-indulgent #My writing

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sleepdeprivedheretic · 4 years ago

Text

Restrained

Notes: I have no excuse, I just want a crack fic with smut treated seriously with Tai-chan to step on me the reader while looking down cockily. Humor, angst, fluff, splashed with pining dust :’) Also, I love Linkin Park.

Setting: Reader-chan is a villain and is terrible at being one, cue ongoing physical and snark battles with Tai-chan.

Warnings: Kinky Smut (So here’s what my unacknowledged, vanilla self, has tried to write and nobody has to read it but it’s here in the story: Dirty talk, safe words, possessiveness, edging, talk about inexperience, handcuffs, breeding kink, unsafe sex, Tai’s mean and leaves the reader unattended, but he feels bad afterwards, lube, somehow there’s vanilla, and fluff) and my weak emotions for Good Boys.

……….

You didn’t exactly chose the Villain life, it basically chose you. Cue your dad’s maniacal laughter, your mother’s evil smirks and her ways of teaching you how to go for the jugular since you were five...wasn’t the most heroic childhood. You grew up distant away from others, living life learning how to avoid the law and training heavily to avoid losing a fight, your parents seemed to take that as a green-light and pushed you into the family business. Not like you could fight it, anyway. You were an outcast from day one, and had no close friends.

That being said, you didn’t really like hurting other people or doing typical villainy stuff, but you liked fighting. It gave you a feeling of pushing all of your aggression and bottled up anger onto somebody without killing them, whether it be heroes, vigilantes, or hell, other villains. It wasn’t healthy, but you had nothing else, really.

Cue in the physical form of your recent excitement, the BMI hero who resembled a matryoshka doll and was kinda cute in his big form, no lie. The two of you had met near his agency with Sakura petals floating along with the breeze, and honestly it reminded you of a shojo manga. Well, him minding his own business until he’d seen your pathetic attempts at shoplifting.

He was there for a fight, and at first you overestimated him, thinking that he would go down quickly, but you were wrong. So wrong. You weren’t the best of the villains, but you held your ground, the both of you panting and sweaty and for the first time, you liked fighting against a hero.

Of course being a self-called villain full of dirty tricks up your sleeve, you were good at vanishing, leaving him to shout curses at you, but you didn’t care. From then on out, the two of you would continue ironically meeting in places. It was either you stumbling into him walking around town, eating Takoyaki, or him catching you...not doing anything villainous because you sucked at it, but you know, it’s the thought that counts.

Then the snark happened.

“Where did you get your hero outfit? From the thrift store?” You quipped.

“As in a matter of fact, I did. Saw yer mom there buyin’ old man’s underwear, Sweetheart.”

Kami help you.

“You don’t even know my mom! But yeah, she’d probably do that.” You answered.

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, she’s kind of weird.”

You weren’t on the top of the villain lists (or if you were on the list), but you were good at holding your ground, and he seemed to know of you, and thus seemed as if he was always making plans to run into you. You were no better. You had gotten into the habit of causing small trouble around his agency, and your battles were always lengthy, full of snark, and you admit you kind of liked to feel him push you against a brick building, leering down at you before the whole thing started.

Anyway, you’ve always managed to either escape or he’d just throw up his hands and turn and walk away in a frustrated huff, like that one time you fell flat on your face, accidentally dodging his spear-formed punch. It was one time, but he didn’t let you live it down, asking about your nose.

Oddly enough, the other pro-heroes, Miruko and Hawks, would just glance at you, sigh and then leave, muttering something about idiots, Eraserhead would just guide the children away from the two of you with a blank look, and Endeavor would just avoid the two of your messy fights altogether, opting that he ironically wasn’t going to deal with “an old married couple”. Whatever that meant.

It didn’t stop smaller, weaker heroes from trying, though. Trying to be hotshots and bring you in. Of course, they failed. You didn’t listen to Linkin Park while training your ass out in the cold rain just to be brought down by some punks.

Tai-chan, or what you’ve become calling him (thanks for Hawks just silently handing you a paper with his name on it, the absolute Wing-man), noticed. Although he was a hero and didn’t dissuade the young ones from chasing after villains, he did basically say that anybody around his area was his to battle. It melted your heart, a little.

It didn’t stop the two of your bantering and bickering, or sometimes he’d say something, trying to be serious but it comes out as silly, that you couldn’t help but burst into a fit of giggles and he’d get flustered, having a cute blush that you couldn’t help but just eat up.

It was like an odd addiction, you wanted to see more of him, even though it was through unhealthy things such as your fights, you wanted to hear more corny catchphrases, see his eye twitch of annoyance (you were a little shit), and finally, the both of you panting in defeat as he angrily munched on Takoyaki, snarling as you stole one, but let you have it, and so on.

You weren’t sure if you were becoming an unhealthy masochist, or you just really liked him. Perhaps both, because your heart would flutter every time you see him smile around his sidekicks from afar, and then clench because you were so far gone into the life of a villain, you knew that you could never have that life. Be a hero, or have him at least as a friend.

Such sad thoughts did plague you, and it must have shown through, because you would halfheartedly remark to his commentary or sometimes, you just wouldn’t show up for a day. He noticed. He was keen like that, and so to your surprise, he would take your fights more seriously, as if trying to keep you there, not letting you keep running away.

Honestly, it was a little sweet, but your poor heart was getting confused at your little game, and didn’t know how to honestly feel for him.

Of course, everything must come to an end, doesn’t it?

He was leering down at you with a cocky smirk, clothes ruined, showing off whatever he had, a boot stepping onto your chest, rain soaking through his soft hair and splattering your cheeks. An odd feeling came over you. Something you weren’t familiar with, but through your mask, you felt that it was safe to just take a mental picture and burn it forever within your brain.

The fight was different. You were sick all week with the common cold, and when you returned from your little hibernation, weird gossip and rumors were littering about near the FatGum Agency. It was either you left him because you were getting bored, or you had found another hero to play with, or you were finally caught. Whatever it was, he seemed to be excited, relieved(?), and at the same time furious to see you. He demanded where have you been, and feeling increasingly snarky and not sure what to feel with your pining dumbass heart, you retaliated that you were on a vacation from his stupidity.

Yeah, you lost.

“Finally caught ya.” His voice rasped out and hot damn did that not help with the odd searing warmth churning within your guts. The feeling of losing always frightened you, for you weren’t sure whether or not your family would actually give a damn. Yet, you felt elated and calm. It was over, he could finally call the shots, and you could just sit in a jail cell and atone for whatever petty crimes you committed.

“So you have. How’s the weather up there, you giraffe?” You couldn’t help but ask, and the boot on your chest pressed a tiny bit down in annoyance, but he made sure that you weren’t hurting.

“Just fine. I think I stepped in shit, though.”

You couldn’t help it. You began laughing, and to your astonishment, he did, too.

“I missed ya.” He admitted as the both of you calmed down. That surprised you.

“I thought you hated me?”

He gave you a look.

“You’re annoying, and persistent, but not evil. Like a flea, you keep on bouncin’ back up, and I can’t help but not dislike ya.” The words sent a warm tingling up your spine, and you found yourself smiling softly.

“I couldn’t hate you either, you know. You’re the only one,” You swallowed, and the continued as his eyes now focused onto yours. “who I can freely just be myself around with.”

“Whaddya mean?” The tone was softer, now, but ever so curious. Well, it’s a good time as any to release your tragic backstory while in the drizzling rain.

“My parents are both villains, and so I was raised as one. I could never be friends with heroes, or really anybody. I could never dream to be a hero, because of my background. It’s shady from the start, who in their right mind would pick a hero who could just end up being like their parents?”

The words tumbled out of you, feeling the metaphorical weight be lifted off from your chest, as the rain quickened it’s pace. An uncomfortable silence washed over the two of you, and already you were regretting the word vomit that had just spilled out of your mouth. You said too much, you cringed inwardly. You should have just kept your mouth shut, now he’s going to pity you-

“You know what? Fuck it.” Your eyes widened with shock and confusion as the so-called “DadGum” had just said one of the worst bad words.

“Did you just-”

“Your parents can jump into the nearest jail-cell. You,” His eyes glinted with an unknown darkness that set your insides ablaze. “have two options. Either you can platonically become a hero-in-training and live with me, or you can be mine. My hero-in-training, my roommate, my lover, just, mine.” He put an emphasize on the word, and your face flushed despite the chilly autumn rain.

You would be surprised, but you oddly weren’t. Endeavor was right, the two of you were basically an old married couple, bickering and bantering, always staring at each other when one was sure the other wasn’t looking.

“Alright. I’d like us to try...um...being more than...rivals?” You stammered. He cocked an eyebrow.

“I didn’ just pour my heart out for ya so ya can deliver that. Try a lil’ harder.” He scoffed.

“Fine, fine! I..I like you too-”

“Love.”

“Love, you too! I just...I dunno, always wanted to find an excuse to just be around you.”

“That’s sweet, an’ I love ya too, Sugarplum, but ya weren’t here for a whole week-

“I was sick with the common cold!”

“N’ then these shitty rumors started-

“Don’t act as if that’s my fault!”

“So I’m feelin’ a lil’ snappy an’ hungry today, but not for food.” He humored you.

“What does that mean?” You tested the waters, knowing the truth, already. He took his boot off of you, crouching down to give you a predatory smile.

“I won’ touch ya unless ya beg me, but our lil’ cat’n’mouse games have had me riled up, for a very, very long time.” He leaned in and whispered in your ear, and you couldn’t help but swallow thickly with want as he continued.

“N’ now we’ve discussed our feelin’s, I’m all just wantin’ to tie you to my bed.” He finished as he continued leering at you as if you were the sheep, and him the wolf. You didn’t blame him, you’ve been wanting this, too. It was a little fast paced, but several months of mutual pining would probably do that to you.

“I mean, at least take me out to dinner, first.” You tried to joke. He just shrugged.

“Done.”

“What? I’m a villain! My family are villains!” You tried to argue. He gave a smile mixed in with a humorous look.

“Villain? Last time I checked, starin’ at candy from the hand of a baby, isn’t puttin’ ya on any wanted list. You’re mine, now. Doesn’t matter what yer shitty family thinks. I’ll fight’em, too.” The sentence made your heart swell, feelings of joy and acceptance fluttered within your for the first time in a long time, and you let yourself give a warm smile. His eyes softened, as he helped pull you up to your feet, letting you lean against him as you maintained your balance.

“Alright. We...we can just be a normal couple? How does this even work?” You tried out. He glanced at you.

“Yeah, we’re goin’ to jus’ be a normal couple. Well, you’re gonna train with me, so that we can eventually get ya a license. N’ you’re gonna kick your parent’s asses, not as a villain or a civilian, but as a hero.” He started off softly, but then a more rambunctious grin took over his face at the prospect, and to be honest, you felt like that was a good idea, spitting everything that they’ve taught you, back in their faces as you live life the way you want it, with your partner, of course.

Speaking of which.

“So...we’re just going to continue getting soaked?” You asked, trying to keep yourself from shuddering.

“Yeah, but not in the rain. C’mon, my place.” He gruffed, and you found yourself eagerly nodding.

You weren’t sure how this happened so fast. First you entered his apartment, shivering, then he said that your clothes needed to be washed, aaaaand you were here, on his bed, naked, chilled, and your hands completely cuffed to the post as he was staring at you with such a dirty, hungry look, you felt thrilled by it.

“You want this? Say no an’ we’ll stop.” He offered one last time.

“I want this.” You admitted, and he gave off an almost predatory grin as you watched in amazement of him shucking off his clothes at the pace of the speed of light. Hot damn, he was huge, and beautiful. He grinned at your unabashed stare, crawling towards you on the king-sized bed, opening your legs as he slotted himself between them.

“So pretty, and wet.” He chuckled, giving you little time to think as his thumb swiped at your leaking opening, causing you to gasp.

“I think that I’m gonna eat you out.” Was the only warning you were given as your legs were pulled further apart, and the next thing you knew, he was on you. Your hands jerked against the fuzzy handcuffs as you felt him licking long, hot, and wet stripes from your opening, to your clit. You couldn’t help but mewl as you subconsciously fought against your restraints, thighs trying to clench around him as he gripped them, keeping them apart as he suckled at your clit.

You felt helpless as he was giving you such an intense and dark stare while he was driving you to the edge, gauging your teary-eyed reaction while you bit your lips, hands squeezing onto thin air as you felt yourself getting closer and closer, hips bucking wildly.

Then, he stopped, and you growled into a pitiful whine, causing him to laugh.

“How does it feel, causin’ others to wait?”

You huffed. He seriously couldn’t be that petty!

“Common. Cold.” You let out a hiss, and he gave you an unimpressed stare.

“Are ya givin’ me an attitude?” Was a warning.

“Yeah, I am!” Like a bull, you ran right into that red flag. He grinned, a little darkly. It honestly would’ve scared you a little, if you weren’t so turned on.

“Yer still a lil’ too feisty. As much as I love it, I ‘ave other plans in mind.” He gave a false pout, and your stomach churned with awaited excitement in what he was going to do, next.

“I’ll be back. I’m going to the store. Be good, okay?” He gave your surprised look a dark smirk, and you couldn’t help but growl. The audacity! You loved him, but the audacity! You couldn’t help but look on with bewilderment as he gotten dressed, opening and closing the bedroom door shut as he left you all alone and tied up.

You waited for what seemed forever, pissed off and bored out of your mind as you felt increasingly cold and still wet. You refused to cry. He said he’d be back, didn’t he? Then why do you feel so helpless and lonesome. You felt tears shed with relief and frustration as he finally opened the door to the bedroom, black bag in hand.

“Bastard!” You hissed, and he eyed you with a sympathetic expression mixed in with a little guilt. He got undressed and set the bag next to the two of you, crawling towards you and wiped away the wetness on your cheeks, kissing them and your mouth as he held a gentler expression. He held your chilled frame against his too warm one, nuzzling you as he soothed your ruffled feathers.

“I know, Darlin’. I’ll make it all better for you, I promise.” He kissed your nose as he gathered the blankets to surround your skin, still letting you be exposed, but at least you’ll be a little warmer.

“Do you wanna continue?”

“Yes.” You said without hesitation, feeling relieved after seeing his softer side, and still wanting release, and received a wet, dirty kiss. You moaned into it, feeling his hands rub your breasts, squeezing them rather roughly as he toyed with the nubs with his roughed up hands. He broke away too soon, leaving the two of you panting as his dark, feral look returned as he eyed you.

“Bought you a lil’ somethin’.” He turned away, rummaging through the bag. You eyed it wearily, hoping that he didn’t go too crazy. He pulled out a bottle of strawberry lube, that was good, and...your face flushed.

“Ever used these, before?” He held out the little vibrating bullets for you to see. You shook your head, and he chuckled.

“You’re very vanilla, ain’t you?”

“I-I…” You stuttered, but he kissed your forehead.

“What’s yer safe word?” He asked. Safe word? Why couldn’t the two of you have a normal first time, together? You thought about it.

“Grapes.”

“Why that word?”

“I hate them.” You shrugged.

“Fair enough. Alright, let’s get started.” He said lowly, opening the lube and bullets. He added some of the lube onto the bullets, attaching one bullet to your clit, and the other to your nipple with little pieces of tape. Yeah, you were confused, too, but he didn’t pay you any mind as he set the controller to both bullets to the side, flipping the switch to a low setting.

You let out a choked whimper as your clit was being stimulated, him leaning forward and enjoying the view of your wetness drenching the sheets.

“Such an eager slut.” He bit out almost darkly as his fingers spread open your labia.

“’M notta slut!” You protested, but it was on deaf ears as he had something else in mind. He generously poured a dime amount of lube onto his fingers, grinning down at you as the strawberry scent floated nicely in the room, mixing in with your own scent of arousal. You almost jolted as his lubed up fingers prodded the tight muscle to your vaginal entrance.

“Damn, relax, you’re so fuckin’ tight.” He murmured, and through your lust-fogged brain, you wondered if anybody else knew about this side of “Dad-gum”. Although having a rough demeanor, he was gently opening you up, and you felt warmth blossom in your chest at the extra attention that he was giving you, glancing at you from time to time to see if you were alright.

You were more than fine. Five fingers deep, and a higher setting to the mini bullets, you were very close to coming. You rocked your hips in a desperate fashion, hands clenched tightly as the fuzz to the handcuffs prevented you from hurting yourself.

“You gonna cum?” He leered.

“Yes!” You bit out, and your stomach fluttered with excitement mixed with dread at that dark chuckle.

“Not yet.” He switched the vibrator off, and you swore you could hear yourself huff into an annoyed growl. Tears of frustration threatened to spill, and he gave another sympathetic look. You swore that he was mocking you.

“It’s okay, alright? I’ll give you what ya want.” He kissed your eyes, holding your frame close to him as he then rubbed his cheek against yours.

“Patience, Baby. I’m hurtin’ too. Right now, let’s let ya cool down while I mark up this pretty skin of yours, alright?” He kissed you gently, and you were now aware of his own need. It was swollen and looked angry as precum was headily dripping onto the sheets. It twitched as you realized that he knew that you were staring. You licked your lips and he groaned with want.

“See? Hurtin.”. He then continued to do as he promised, kissing you slowly as his hands rubbed against your skin, squeezing here and there as your hands itched to touch him. He paid your whining no heed as he licked at the juncture at your neck, biting it harshly, suckling at the blossoming bruise as his dick twitched at your wanton whine and buck of hips. He kissed the spot gingerly, eyeing your debauched frame with greed as he lowered his mouth to another spot.

“Damned young punks, trying to bring you in. They should know better. You’re in my territory.” Bite. You winced, but keened with need as he lathered the blossoming bruises with gentle kisses.

“Every inch of you is mine.” His eyes glittered almost darkly as he tore away from his work. Oh yes, you were looking nice. He didn’t do too much, but the love bites he imprinted onto your neck and clavicle helped soothe the possessive ache that he had. He knew that you wanted to touch him, too, and was thrilled at the aspect.

“You wanna touch?” He prodded. You keened into a hurried nod, not caring about your pride.

“Please.” What a cute sound, how could he refuse? He relented, and you were on him. It felt as if he was guiding you, letting your hands roam, doing your own squeezing at his stomach, biceps, and pecs while you kissed him feverishly. He basked in your attention, letting you claim your prize for being such a wonderful and patient Sweetheart. Of course he kept you from touching his dick, promising that another time, definitely, so you relented in favoring of returning his little marking game.

He swore he could come untouched by your less rough touch, eyeing him to see if he acknowledged that you were doing a good job, to which he couldn’t help but find that adorable, as well.

“You’re so good for me. So patient and sweet. I’m going to breed you, now. Would you like that?” He hummed, and you swore that your brain stopped and your core clenched with need. One sentence should not sound that hot, but it did.

“Yes. I would like that.” You answered a little too gently, and he hummed with approval, kissing you.

“If you don’t, remember that we don’t hafta do anything that you don’t wanna do. Remember your safe word?” He inquired, you nodded and told him.

“Good. You wanna be bred n’ dirty-talked? I gotcha some Plan B at the store, didn’t really think about condoms. Is that fine?”

You nodded, telling him that you liked both ideas. To be honest, you didn’t mind being marked up in such a way. Not with your pent up lust and feelings of love towards this sadistic Himbo of a man.

“Lie on yer back. I wanna see ya.” He growled out, and you hastily complied.

“Now, tell me, how experienced are ya, really? Not hard to notice that you seem to be learnin’ a few things.” He gave you look in which you couldn’t decipher.

“It’s dumb.”

“No it ain’t. Doesn’t matter to me if ya have history.” He kissed your knee softly as his expression gentled, and you felt yourself relax.

“Your possessiveness says otherwise.” You tried.

“’Cause they’ve been houndin’ around what’s been mine in my territory. Your earlier experiences don’t count. You’re mine, now, and I’m planning on keepin’ it that way.” He smoothed your leg gently despite the dark edge in his tone of words. Really, you feel elated.

“So no judgment?” You inquired.

“None.” He promised. You believed him. Feeling a bit more braver and relaxed, you could trust him with your secrets. You didn’t know a way how to make it less cringe-worthy to admit, but you wanted to tell him, anyway.

“I never really had to time or opportunity.” You found yourself saying, and that’s all he needed to hear.

His eyes flashed into something that you couldn’t decipher, but it didn’t matter. He wan onto you, kissing you slowly yet frequently, retouching every place where he could reach with a more gentle approach.

“Don’t make a kink out of it.” You groaned. He chuckled lowly.

“Why not? Ya get to do this, once.”

“It’s a social construct, and dumb. It’s not like my personality is magically going to change after having something within me.”

“I agree completely, Dearest, but I find it endearin’ and sweet that you’re willing to share this with me.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” You huffed out softly.

“Might be, but my dick’s trying to convince itself to do the thinkin’.”

“Maybe you should let it, then.” You prodded, and he then gave you a dark grin.

“As ya wish. Don’t forget yer safe word.” Was the only warning you had.

You were already loosened and wet, and although his actions resembled of that like an animal as he kissed you with fervor and biting some new areas, he was gentle when he decided that it was time for the main course. Coating himself with a generous amount of cold lube, he hissed as he turned on the bullet vibrators, letting you get stimulated as he breached your vaginal opening, teasing and prodding the muscle as it opened up for him.

You felt the hot, thick head of his dick slip inside with little to no restraint, surprising you as your legs widened further, allowing him to sink in further. He was big, and your walls had to stretch to accommodate him, but you wanted it so damned badly. It hurt so good, you thought. There was a little pain, but the delicious stretch heavily outweighed it, and it reached places that you didn’t know that just needed to be itched.

Hot damn, did you feel stuffed.

“How are ya?” He then asked, and then you realized that he was fully seated inside, and you could tell that he was desperate and hot as you were.

“If you stop this time, I might actually kill you.” Your threat was light, but he swallowed thickly at the intensity of your stare and heated gaze of want.

“Good?”

“Wonderful. Move.” You all but demanded, but he eagerly complied, letting your too-tight walls massage him.

“Fuck! So tight. Might keep ya like this, re-tie ya to my bed. Fuck ya full n’ heavy.” He couldn’t help but growl out the words, being rewarded with the tightened clench of your walls.

“Ya like that? Bein’ my personal cocksleeve? Belly round n’ breasts heavy with milk?” His movements jerked faster as he squeezed your breast that didn’t have the bullet pleasantly buzzing against it. You couldn’t help but nod, arousal dripping onto the sheets as the bullet roughly buzzed against your clit, the both of you feeling the painful aching need for release. His hips were all but snapping to meet your thrusts, balls slapping against your ass, as he engaged you into a filthy kiss as the lewd sounds and scents echoed and filtered within the walls.

Your head felt light and the both of you were covered in a sheen of sweat, he opted to weave his hand into yours, holding it rather almost gently as he moved as if a man possessed. Yours hit first, gripping you and clenching you out of nowhere as you let out his name in a frantic shout, clutching onto him ever so tightly as your head fogged into a sharp relief that left you into tears from finally able to cum. He was no better, hips faltering as he felt you embrace your own orgasm, causing his mind to almost go blank as the movement of his hips bucked into a frantic state. He huffed out, calling out to you as he held onto you tightly, anchoring the both of you into a freight train of orgasmic bliss.

You whimpered out your oversensitive clit and breast, hitting the damned power button to those little bullets as you came down from your high. Taishiro collapsed next to you as the both of you were panting, trying to catch your breaths. You were so drowsy, but you really didn’t want to sleep in your own spunk and messes.

“Dirty.” You whined, and he laughed, kissing you.

“Let’s get cleaned up, then. Know ya don’t wanna, but you could seriously get an UTI if ya don’t use the bathroom.” You agreed, tearing off the bullets, and pulling your weakened state up to use the bathroom as he decided to lazily change the sheets, throwing the used sheets, toys, and the black bag in the corner, somewhere. He would deal with that, later.

He caught you as you stumbled into him from coming out of the bathroom. Gently, he maneuvered you to where you were snuggled up against him, a heavy blanket re-warming up your cooling skin as he hummed, gently playing with your hair as he kissed you softly.

“Ya good?”

“Tired n’ fine.” You mumbled, peeking up to look at him. He smiled gently.

“I looooove you.” He singsonged, earning him your own gentle smile and a soft kiss.

“I love you, too. Go to sleep.” You playfully griped at the last part, and he chuckled in compliance.

…………..

Bonus: Yeah your parents were pissed, but you were a hero, and their opinions didn’t really count, anymore. They knew your potential, so they cleared away from you as you and your fiance moved into a safer city. End.

……….

Here’s my poor attempt at being more versatile in writing kinky smut. Hope it’s not too much cringe, I’m usually too vanilla :’)

#Taishiro Toyomitsu x reader #Taishiro Toyomitsu #Fatgum #Fatgum x reader #I mean #I tried #It's fun kinky adult times at the end #Don't @ me #Heed the warning sigils that I've placed #trash but my trash that you're welcomed to #Welcome to my hut

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canyouhearthelight · 4 years ago

Text

The Miys, Ch. 108

And we are somewhat caught up! My queue has run out at least, and I’m astoundingly glad it has, because now I get to thank a bunch of people who have just detonated my inbox with love, and kept me going.

Before I get into the gratitude: If, at any point, a comment a character makes does not make sense, please let me know. Send an ask, even on anon, because I am well aware that everything in my brain does not get a chance to make it in the story (example: Charly’s triangle comment here, and the fact that Noah’s dialogue in the beginning has an actual translation…)

First, shoutouts to @charlylimph-blog, @baelpenrose, and @quantumizedinsanity for the characters in this chapter and for being very, VERY dear friends to me. A global pandemic and nationwide protests, along with a job change and a major move, have done nothing to hurt friendships that are already cross-country from each other.

Annnnd to everyone who has been blowing up my notes with likes and reblogs: @dierotenixe(hang in there! i PROMISE!), @iamverypotato,@itscryptifssil, @steadynightninja, @thepalemarcher, @feral-possums-in-the-bog, @26fancyraptors(MISSED YOU!), @werewolf2578 (we don’t talk enough, how are you!?), @experimentalspades, @odd-dream-worlds, @duchess-katala03, @pineapplewitchboi, @dark-choclat-cupcake, @littleshydragon, and all the others.

I held my breath, bracing for what I knew was coming. Nothing came after several minutes, to my surprise. I slowly lifted my head and opened my eyes, focusing on drawing deep, even breaths. Maybe he got bored and wandered off. Maybe he had mercy on me….

Yeah. And maybe Grey is making genetically modified fish that fly.

Slowly, carefully, I grabbed my fork and lifted a bite of pie to my mouth. A glance at Charly showed a serious expression, nothing given away. Damnit. I knew she could see Arthur behind me, I was hoping for a telltale giggle, or a warning glance, something. Right when a traitorous voice of reason spoke up belatedly to point out that Charly was never serious…

“You really will adopt anyone, won’t you?” Arthur asked as he came around to take the chair Jokul had just vacated.

Fuuuuuck…. Busted. “I didn’t adopt him!” I tried to argue. “I actually made a very concerted effort to avoid that!”

Unceremoniously, he snagged Charly’s pot pie, only to have his hand held at fork-point until he let go. Without even acknowledging the lunch-standoff, he leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “You tried to ‘avoid’ it by foisting him off on Zach Khan, your… nephew, thing, and his girlfriend. Still adoption-adjacent.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to interact with him.”

“Uh huh. And how will you explain to poor Hannah that dear Ivan’s partner isn’t invited to Insert Winter Holiday dinner, hmmm?”

“I hate you.”

“Lies and deceit,” he rebutted calmly. “You adopted me first. Before anyyyyone on this ship. I daresay you’re quite fond of me.”

I scowled at him, shoving my remaining lunch in his direction. “Here, before you start poaching this direction.”

An eyebrow arched in the general direction of my fish pie. “That looks suspiciously like dairy. You wound me.” Grabbing my fork, he poked at the lumps of meat. “I would have thought you would be at least a little subtle in any assassination attempts. Have I taught you nothing?”

“Of course you taught me something,” I cooed, jokingly, while I patted his arm. “The fastest way to a man’s heart is six inches of steel through the ribs, slight upward angle. Cyanide smells like bitter almonds, so always use shortbread cookies to administer it. Three pounds of pressure will tear off a human ear, and even a three year old can bite through fingers,” I recited. “Also, the pie is dairy-free, surprisingly. The ‘cream’ is silken tofu and aquafaba, turns out.”

Charly was choking with laughter, while Arthur finally smiled at me. “See, I told you that you love me,” he gloated before scooping up a scallop and some crust. As soon as he started chewing, his expression changed from one of amusement to something strikingly similar to Mac when I flick water in his face.

“Scallops,” I explained. “I had the same reaction.”

“Heathens,” he managed around the mouthful. After he swallowed it, he gave the dish a considering look. “Not bad per se, but… There is no fish in this fish pie. What is aquafaba?”

“Chicpea juice. Usually it’s used as an egg substitute. I guess they used it for consistency here.”

Charly leaned forward, narrowly avoiding landing an elbow in her lunch. “And how can you tell that’s what’s in there?”

Glancing over at his student, Arthur shrugged. “She has a point. This,” he poked at the sauce, “looks like heavy cream.”

“Tastes kind of nutty, though,” I explained. “Anyway, enough about food. What brings you down here?”

“Galactic Core Curriculum,” he explained. “That’s the excuse anyway. Alistair - Cthulu damn his soul - told me you were eating lunch here after fifteen minutes of questioning. Tyche told me Charly was with you, so I figured lunch with you, lunch with one of my favorite students, plus I can kill two errands with one meal.” Charly stared at him like he had lost his mind, but he ignored her. “When I arrived - lo! What to my wondering eyes should appear, than a certain former cult leader harassing said friend and student! What person could resist such a temptation.” Deflating dramatically, he scowled at me. “Imagine my delight to hear you giving him relationship advice,” he intoned flatly.

“I got him to go away,” I pointed out.

“Before I managed even one strike in a highly one-sided battle of wits.“

“Mr. Farro,” Charly cut off, glaring for all she was worth. “Jokull came in peace, he leaves in peace.”

“Oh, he would have left in pieces. His ego anyway.”

“Fucking triangles, I swear,” Charly muttered, attacking her lunch with renewed violence.

“Anyway,” I forged ahead. “Jokul was here for fifteen, twenty minutes. You had your chance.”

He glanced away with a cough. “I… may have been resisting the urge to vomit.”

“Arthur.”

“Relationship advice is… not in my skillset,” he admitted. “Tell you your partner is abusive? Can spot a mile a way. Great for getting people out of bad relationships, with concierge crowbar service if necessary. Not great for saving them.”

“Crowbar? Really?”

“You know, for prying people out of bad situations?” He genuinely looked confused, so I left that one alone.

“For what it’s worth, Jokull wanted to talk to you about what he’s going through right now,” Charly added.

“Why in any galaxy…”

I had to laugh at that one. “Everyone treats him poorly,” I shrugged before giving Arthur a pointed look. “He’s having a rough time right now, feels like he has no one to talk to except Ivan, and thought you would have some insight into that kind of thing.”

“What part of this,” he gestured to himself with a fork, “implies anything remotely close to wanting people to like me and therefore actually knowing how to accomplish that.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer,” I muttered.

Giving me a hard, thoughtful look, Arthur’s entire demeanor changed. “Ah… On a more serious note, though… yeah. I don’t get why people not liking you is a problem, but you’ve told me before it’s something that bothers you, so it’s feasible it bothers other people. I’ll make a point not to make it worse.”

Clearing my throat, I pushed the conversation on to the next topic. “You mentioned two errands earlier. One for me, one for Charly?”

“Right.” The relief to be changing topics was palpable. “For you, Councillor, Galactic Core is almost finished. Eino is already considering other ongoing-education programs, and you’re going to need to start scouting educators again. That late-twentieth through contemporary Terran history course? Big support-base, turns out.”

“You wouldn’t tell me this without a reason,” I pointed out. “And you’re a History teacher. Volunteering?”

“I want it done right,” he admitted. “The idea being bounced around isn’t for a requirement that everyone take the course. Not at the same time, anyway. History-focused educators only, approved curriculum.”

“Approved?” I asked. “By whom?”

“A committee,” he shrugged. “Eino, obviously. Xiomara, with her background - which, by the way, is ridiculous - “

“We know, we know,” Charly and I groaned.

After glancing between us for a moment, Arthur continued. “And me.”

“Why you?” I asked. “No offense, just trying to understand.”

“No offense taken, I’ll explain that part later, but I promise it’s for a legitimate reason. The point is, Eino and his committee approve the curriculum and number of slots. You and Tyche make the decisions for who is allotted where.”

“Fair point,” I conceded.

“Fine. The area of history I focused on for my Master’s degree has an important component that ties a lot together and makes revisionism harder - wait. What?” I could almost hear the gears squealing as they ground to a halt. “Did you just say yes?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“That was… disturbingly easy,” he gave me a skeptical look. When all I did was grin, he slowly turned to Charly. “As for you, I wanted to talk to you about the assignment that’s due next Friday.”

“I already turned it in,” she pointed out.

“Which is what I wanted to talk to you about. It’s a week and a half early.”

“Right….” she nodded slowly. “And I made sure it met all the criteria on the syllabus. Plus I had three different people proofread it.”

“All of which is admirable, and it would be considered a very well-done assignment,” he admitted. “If you didn’t have an extra week and a half left to make it even better.”

“Mr. Farro….”

“You aren’t in trouble, in any way shape or form,” he reassured her. “But I know you are capable of doing better than the assignment you already gave me. I wanted to offer you a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” Charly asked suspiciously. “This isn’t illegal, is it?”

“What? No…” he sputtered. “Illegal!?”

“Gotta be sure,” she nodded sincerely. I was reasonably certain she was giving him a hard time, but it was still hilarious to watch.

Shaking his head, Arthur did his best to recover. “The deal is this: if you stick with the assignment you already sent me, I’ll grade it as it stands. But. If you re-do it and hand it in on the original due date, you’ll be eligible for extra credit for your extra effort.”

“But I still get the grade on the one you already have, either way?” she asked skeptically.

“I’ve already graded it, and you won’t get a worse grade if you re-do it,” he promised.

“I’ll think about it,” she hedged carefully. “That paper was a lot of work.”

“That’s fair,” he nodded. “What if you sent me an audio recording, instead? No extra writing.”

“I can do that,” she agreed, sticking out her hand. After Arthur shook it, she glanced at the time. “Shit. I gotta go. Sophia, don’t be late back to work, okay? Tyche won’t care, but Alistair may stop letting me have extra marshmallows in my cocoa when I come by your office.”

After she left, I gave Arthur a very serious look. He tried to ignore it, but after about five solid minutes of The Squint, he caved. “For the love of… She’s smart, okay? You know, I know it. The paper she handed in a week and a half early was much more insightful than anyone else in the class. They were assigned a research paper on the underlying causes of the breakdown in relations between the Ekomari and Shalt-kri’i. Everyone focused on political ideologies, trade resources, navigational route control. Standard causes for war, from a Terran perspective. Do you know what Charly Harper wrote her paper about?”

“Food?” I asked, going out on a limb.

“So close! Cultural differences, plain and simple. Ekomari are vaguely mammalian, and their diet consists of native arthropods. Guess what Shalt-kri’i look like?”

“You’re kidding me…”

“Not even slightly. And! To add insult to injury, in a very close to literal sense, Shalt-kri’i greet each other as friends by spreading their appendages, a lot like a hug. Whereas Ekomari show aggression by… standing up on their hindmost appendages and spreading the rest to look bigger.”

“And no one caught this before?”

“Not on the Ark, no.” He spread his arms wide. “No one even considered it. Sure, the rest are good points, and they did make everything worse, more than likely, but the start? She nailed it.”

“Then why have her re-write the assignment?” I was honestly confused at this point.

“The way she wrote it, I could tell she wasn’t confident about the answer at all.” He looked about as frustrated as I had ever seen him. “You get her talking about engineering, or pranks, she knows she knows what she is talking about. I want her to know that she is just as right about this as she was about that.”

Hard to believe that this was the same man whose office I had marched into, out for a pound of flesh and the blood besides, because the same woman we were discussing left his class in tears and begged me not to make her go back. However…

“Honestly?” I ventured. “I want to hear this recording when she hands it in. I’m really curious about this.”

“You think she’ll write it?”

“Pfft,” I scoffed. “I know she will. You gave her a challenge where she can’t lose, but stands a lot to gain. I just hope you’re ready for that sound file.”

“I honestly can’t wait,” he smirked.

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#the miys #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #found family #aspec #science fiction #original science fiction #earth is space australia #humans are space fae #hfy #fiction #original fiction #my writing #apocalypse #aliens #post-apocalypse

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patricia-von-arundel · 4 years ago

Text

An Ordinary Life - 1/3

This is a story I’ve been trying to start, and kept getting stymied on and restarting, for a very long time. It’s a simple story, about two people very much in love, who rarely get to exist as others do. Who live lives full of great deeds and great challenges, but have few moments of solitude and peace. Who are extraordinary, but rarely ordinary. So... I wanted to give ordinary to them. To Edelgard, who grieves the ordinary life her siblings never had, and longs for a lazy day. To Byleth, who has only recently learned to want or need anything beyond what is necessary to live. Even if the respite for both of them is brief, it is still just that: a respite.

I wanted it up today for El’s birthday.

I wanted to write it at all for @lysissisyl. Ti amo, cuore mio.

Rating: G (the third part will be very much M-rated, but will only be available on AO3)

Also on AO3

It had been almost a year - almost a year since the war ended, and the true tests of her abilities began. Edelgard had not been so foolish as to believe these tests would be easy ones, but she had failed to grasp the full tedium that they would lay upon her. Day in and day out. Heavier than any armor - and completely lacking in the satisfaction of laying down her weapon at the end of the day.

She had never been much for such work: sitting for hours on end, piles of paper and ink tipping into depleted wells, demands offered in formulaic, formal, flowery tones. Meetings with crusty, entitled men of the ancien regime, who she knew before any discussion began would balk at every word she spoke, regardless of what it might be, simply because of their anger and fear at what she had chosen to represent. Slow work. Tedious work.

Her sisters had teased her about her inability to stand such things, when she was young: “Never get between Edelgard and the door at the end of lessons! Little El will run you right over.” She had usually been the first out, running for afternoon freedom in the outdoors. Even restricted from going alone outside the palace grounds, there was far more adventure eto be found than would ever be contained in arithmetic or penmanship.

She had outgrown such childish displays of her feelings, of course, but not out of the feelings themselves. Still - always - she would do what was necessary. It was not for her own education, now - it was for every person in Fódlan.

But the tedium wasn’t the only thing she had to fight to keep her mind on the endless work:

There was also the abence in her heart, and in the empty bed she attempted restless sleep in each night.

Byleth had been gone for almost a month. Twenty-six days. Edelgard had no choice but to keep count; her subconscious mind would make certain of it, even if her conscious mind chose not to. Each time Byleth had left, it seemed the pain and fear could grow no greater - her body could contain no more - but with every day that passed, somehow, it did. This, though, was the longest it had been - and the fear was ever-present. She even dreams of it: nightmares of all those years Byleth had been gone. Nightmares of seeing her collapse, there at what had been greatest victory, and listening desperately, endlessly for a heartbeat that never came. And nightmares of now: only a still, silent body coming home; a shroud in the back of a wagon. or there being no body to bring home at all and, this time, no hope of future reunion. Like a child, she woke at times to damp, silent tears on her cheeks.

She understood the importance of what Byleth was doing - the fact that both Byleth and Hubert had been willing to leave her side spoke quite clearly of that importance. And their talents had not been wasted: the ongoing fight against the darkest enemies of Fódlan was going well. Many of their scattered nests had already been cleansed of vermin.

But they were not all found - and Byleth’s skills in hunting them out rivaled her skills with a sword. It made sense for her to go. But that did not mean Edelgard felt any less fear - or any less frustration that she could not be out there as well.

Twenty-six days: that was how long it took for her fears to be realized. Twenty-six days, until the door to her prison opened with nary a knock or a warning, and she saw that Hubert had finally returned.

Alone.

The unkempt nature of his appearance would have been more than enough to alert her that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. She could see the sheen of perspiration on his skin, and the half-healed remains of a nasty cut across one cheek. He still wore riding clothes, when he almost always insisted on bathing and dressing more formally before coming to see her upon his returns.

But it was the glimpse of the pain in his eyes - seen only for the briefest second, before he dipped into a bow before her - that seemed to slam into her chest, hard as a fist.

“Lady Edelgard, I -”

“Where is she?” She could hear it in her voice - the terror. For once, she did not care. She pushed up from the desk. The pen she had been using had already begun to leave a spreading stain across the letter beneath it. She did not care about that, either. “Tell me immediately - where she is, and what happened.”

Hubert straightened again. There was some new measure of composure to his face, now that orders had been given. He offered her a curt nod. “She is near. We thought it best not to bring her any farther than was necessary to make certain we were not being followed.”

Edelgard gave a nod of her own. She wondered if it might be possible to hear the hammering of her frantic heart. Still, she had slipped on her own mask of composure - across her face, and in her voice when she said, “Tell me what happened on the way, then.”

“Of course. The horses are already waiting.”

A surprise attack, he said - an ambush from behind, when by all accounts, including his own, the area had already been cleared. Edelgard knew well such ambushes - the strange spells and dark knowledge possessed by their enemies meant such occurrences were all but inevitable. Unfortunately, the same means made preparing for such an attack impossible. They had certainly tried many times over.

And because of that...

Edelgard’s hands clenched around the reins within them. She resisted the urge to kick her horse into a gallop. She wished they could have flown instead.

Byleth had not faltered in the battle - she had had no chance to. “They clearly targeted her first,” Hubert said. Edelgard did not doubt it was true: they had not been secretive about the elite warriors being sent to wipe out their foes. And this was her doing - Hubert had wanted to keep their plans as quiet as possible, but she had felt the need to grandstand. She had wanted their enemies to know who was coming for them. For what seemed now shameful, selfish, petty reasons, she had wanted this: she had hoped to make them feel afraid. As they had once made her feel afraid.

They hadn’t targeted Byleth by chance, or even as an attempt to bring down a command of the Imperial Army.

They had targeted her as the woman Edelgard loved. Because she had not served the purpose for which they had created her. Because she had announced, loudly and openly, that the finest members of her army were coming to smoke them from their burrows and caves and rat-holes.

Which meant she bore some - perhaps most - of the blame for what had happened.

“We could not see to her injuries until the battle was won,” Hubert said. “For that, Lady Edelgard, I offer my humblest apologies. She was able still to fight, and it seemed the spell might not have caused serious injury, so I deemed it safer not to put the healers at risk to see to her immediately.”

“Of course,” Edelgard said. IF he heard the tension that had returned to her voice - and the guilt, heavy and pulsing, within it - he gave no sign.

“That is why I must ask your apology. That decision proved an ill-fated one. The magic worked as a venom might, it seems - slowly coursing through the veins, and just as slowly making its nefarious presence fully known. After the battle, she finally fell.”

In her mind, as cold and unyielding as a vise, Edelgard could now see it. As she had already, almost a yar ago, seen Byleth collapse. Only this time, Edelgard had not been able to rush to her side - and now, foolish as it was, it only added another sting to the swarm of her guilt.

“The healers,” she said. “Were they able to...?”

Hubert nodded. “The magic was purged. But it had done as intended - it will be some time before she is fully recovered.”

Recovered. The question Edelgard had been desperate to ask, and equally determined not to do so - not yet - since the moment Hubert had appeared in her study: Will she recover? The relief of the answer washed over her, almost strong enough to cast aside the fear, the pernicious guilt. Almost - but not quite. Not yet.

“Here,” Hubert said - veering off the road, into the tangled darkness of the wood through which they were traveling. “A hunting cabin. One of the soldiers offered its use.”

She would see to it he was thanked - later. Adding it silently to the endless list of tasks in her mind. Thanks both for the use, and for the safety of it. They had to travel deep into the forest to find it - there would be no chance of their enemies, or anyone else, just happening to stumble upon it. Here, until she recovered - recovered! - Byleth would be safe.

And more so now, because Edelgard had no intention of leaving the place until that recover she was sure was complete. She could not undo what had already been done, but she could make damned sure no further harm was caused. Perhaps it would in some very small way make up for her negligence allowing Byleth to be in such a state in the first place.

The cabin was small, utilitarian - almost primitive in appearance. It sat in a clearing, surrounded on all sides by forest. The walls were wood, grey and weathered with age, and clearly even from a distance left unchinked. The small windows had waxed paper in them, not glass. There was a shed for horses, a rough-hewn box and an axe for firewood - and that was all.

No place Edelgard would want to call home. But for a place to hide someone now known all across Fódlan? It was perfect.

“Take me to her.”

Hubert bowed only his head, this time. “Of course, Lady Edelgard.”

There were three rooms inside - tiny ones, with no doors in the doorways and very little besides the necessities for brief stays: a large fireplace - already lit, though the place retained a chilly, damp, stale kind of air - and a table and chairs, as rough as the walls, in the main room. To the left, what seemed a storage room and cooking space; she could see crates and barrels and a stove with a precariously-crooked pipe. At the far end of the main room -

The bedroom.

She did not wait for Hubert. And she did not attempt to hide her hurry.

There were two beds - one large, the other smaller, tucked under one of the papered windows. A small chest in one corner. And that was all.

Byleth was in the smaller bed.

Edelgard’s breath caught.

She had seen Byleth very still. While she was listening to someone. While she was searching for something - a target. An enemy.

But she was not still in sleep - not at all. That was something Edelgard had had to grow accustomed to, in the first sweet nights they had shared a bed with one another. Byleth was a restless sleeper.

There was no restlessness to her now.

Edelgard crossed the room to her. Hubert was still without - giving them this moment alone. For that, Edelgard was grateful. Her fragile composure seemed likely at any moment to shatter.

Byleth was like a corpse - that was the only description that came to mind. Not only too still: too pale, too small, too... depleted. Drained of life, of her curious gaze. Simply a thing, now, a child’s doll tucked into bed, but never truly to awaken. They had tucked her in, but only to the waist. And the room was so damp and cold...

Edelgard pulled her gloves off, because that, in the moment, seemed suddenly very important. As did fixing the blankets, as tiny as this was in the face of a much greater, graver situation. She pulled them up, tucking them now around Byleth’s shoulders. Carefully - carefully.

Her skin, at least, felt warm and soft and alive. Edelgard, hands still bare, touched her cheek, brushed hair from her forehead. Byleth showed no reaction - but this close, Edelgard could see the rise and fall of her breath, slow and steady. Inside, her heart would have the same in its beat. Still, Edelgard put her hand there, too. She needed the reassurance of feeling it. The rhythmic strength of it.

“I am sorry, my love.” Words spoken softly. Inadequate words, but all she had to offer.

Back in the main room, Hubert was staring into the flames within the fireplace, his hands folded together behind his back. He did not look up when she entered the room once more.

“It is time for you to return to Enbarr,” she said. “You need to speak with those who know of our current whereabouts. Make it very clear that I expect the location to be kept secret. There will be most severe punishment should anyone allow this information to be made public. Tell Ferdinand he has lead of my affairs until I return. I ask that you remain available, and serve as my eyes and ears in the capitol. Should anything occur that requires my attention, please come to me at once.”

He offered another bow of his head. “Yes, Lady Edelgard. I shall send a contingent to watch this general area, that you may stay with the professor.”

“No. It’s too dangerous. Not when our enemy will be explicitly aware of our current situation. I alone will remain with Byleth. I assure you, I am more than protection enough, should any attempt to further harm her.”

She knew well the way that Hubert then smiled - thin, and satisfied, and dark. “As you wish. It shall be done as you say. And now, by your leave, I will return to Enbarr.” He hesitated - then looked her, finally, in the eye. “I am sorry I was not able to protect her.”

An unusual softness in his voice - but she could feel the same within herself. “It is the way of war, Hubert. You know that, I know that, and Byleth certainly knows it, as well. You saw her safely to this place. For that, I can only offer my gratitude.”

When he was gone, the tiny place seemed almost colder, and so quiet she could almost feel it, like an ache that settled within her very bones. For what seemed a long time, she could only stand there, hands on the doorframe without a door, as if trapped between two versions of reality: the one she faced, homely but almost, curiously, offering welcome, with the little table before the fire; and the one behind her, that room full of chill and guilt and unnatural stillness.

She wanted to return to that room. To keep vigil, until the beautiful moment it was no longer necessary. But the practical side of her, she knew she must allow to win out - at least for a time. There were matters to attend to: seeing what supplies were available to them. Chopping more firewood, unless there was a store of it somewhere besides the box she had seen outside, and not only what was already burning. Hubert would likely have left one of the horses for her, and she would have to see to its needs as well as her own and, much more importantly, Byleth’s.

The outside tasks first - the day was already growing late, and the night would be even colder than it was at the moment. She attended to the horse, lingering for a few minutes with it there in the shed that served as makeshift stable. A sweet horse - it allowed her to rub its nose, which she thought horses liked. It had never seemed wise, to show much softness around animals, especially those that were likely to be taken to war. Still, she liked them, and there was no one here to see, except Byleth - and Byleth, of course, already knew.

But the thought of Byleth was enough to cease her brief moment of distraction - Byleth in there alone, and the possibility that she might be cold or afraid or uncomfortable, and being unable to say or do anything about it. It was also looking increasingly likely to rain, the sky less darkening from dusk than from ominous, heavy, low-hanging clouds.

The axe - Edelgard collected it, considered it. Was there a method to cutting firewood? It certainly appeared to be done a particular way, considering the general uniformity of the pieces. But - for all her prowess with and preference for the axe as a battle weapon! - if there was such a method, she had no memory of having ever seen it, much less learned it herself.

“Ironic, really,” she murmured - then shrugged. “Well, surely logs will burn regardless of how they might appear...”

Small trees - was that what she was supposed to look for? It seemed unwise to attempt a large one - it would take far too long. And besides, the axe was quite small itself. The trick, then, was to find a small tree.

But that was a trick, indeed - she also was not certain how one was meant to do so. She had never cut firewood, and she had never had to find a small tree. There were no trees at all in the clearing, and all the ones she saw when she ventured into the forest were very large ones. Very, very large ones.

Was she supposed to use one of those? Perhaps she was overestimating the amount of time that it would take. There might be small trees closer to the roads they had traveled earlier, where more sun was available, but she didn’t want to be so far from Byleth unless there was no other choice. And she wouldn’t be able to safely traverse the forest after dark - she had no torch, and it would be too easy to lose her bearings in such unfamiliar territory even if she did have one.

Then - finally! - a stroke of luck: one of the trees had saved her the work of cutting it by at some point downing itself. She could have laughed at her own sudden, ridiculous sense of relief - and at the thought of what Byleth would surely think of it. Of her: an emperor, too ill-prepared to know how to find firewood, and now as happy as a child with a new toy over a fallen tree!

She ignored the thick trunk in favor of the branches - ones that would have been far too high had the tree been standing. They cut easily enough, fortunately, though they certainly weren’t going to win any prize for firewood uniformity. She was reminded of the training grounds at the monastery - the satisfying thunk of her axe against targets. That wood had been softer and less splintery than this, but still, the feeling and sound were much the same.

After that, it was a simple matter of carrying it back to the cabin, being mindful of those splinters. A good thing, the simplicity - the sky had gone from ominous to angry, and there was very little light left to see it. She felt the first drops of rain as she carried back the last of her loads. The box and the overhang of the roof would keep the wood mostly dry, but still, she took more than was likely needed inside, leaving it next to the fireplace.

There were still the supplies to examine, and she knew it best to eat something after all her exertion, but she went to Byleth again first. The stillness, again, was unnerving - but at least it meant she had not kicked and tossed the blankets aside, as she was often wont to do in her sleep. Still, Edelgard adjusted them around her once more. Just in case.

It was almost too dark to see, when she went to examine the barrels and crates in the third tiny room, but it seemed a waste of both wood and time to attempt to light the stove. Besides, the exertion and stress were beginning to catch up with her - she felt the heaviness of them across her back and shoulders, behind her eyes. It had been too long since she’d found time for regular physical training, as she had done when actively taking part in battle. She needed to return to such, when all this was over.

For now, though, she had already exhausted herself, and the dim light cast from the fireplace would have to do.

Someone must have been sent by Hubert for fresh supplies - there were vegetables, eggs, cheese, dried meats... and tea. He had likely stressed it must be the bergamot, and she smiled, just a little bit, to think of the fear he had likely put into some young soldier over tea leaves, of all things. In the barrels, she found potatoes. Many potatoes. She supposed it made sense; potatoes would keep. She had never cooked one herself, but the process seemed likely a simple one.

But not tonight - she could not face the thought of cooking, despite her earlier mental note to eat. Nor the thought of going through the rest of the crates. She was too tired.

And stronger even than her exhaustion - her growing, desperate need to be with the woman that she loved. The one she had allowed to be here, and in such a state. There was no more work demanding her attention now, nothing else necessary before morning came. No paperwork - without the guilt now heavy upon her once more, that would have left her ecstatic - and nothing else to try to accomplish in the gloom of this dark little house.

She wanted to be with Byleth.

The fire was down to embers; there was hardly enough light to see as she undressed, unbuttoning and unfastening mostly by touch and by memory. She had no nightgown - there had been no chance to gather such things, nor would she have wasted the time to do so even if offered a chance - but could manage in her underclothing perfectly well. They had done the same to Byleth - Edelgard left her own clothes next to the neat stack beside the smaller bed, and the pins from her hair as well.

She wanted to get into that smaller bed. To lie close, holding Byleth safe in her arms. It had been too long - far too long.

But she did not. Punishing herself, for her complicity in all of this? Taking the safer route, in case it was not yet advisable for Byleth to be moved? Some combination of both? She could not say, nor did she wish right now to dwell upon it. She needed, desperately, to sleep.

But knowing this was not the same as willing it - a situation she knew almost as well as she knew herself. The room was cold, and even under the blankets, she shivered. She could hear the rain, hard against the paper windows, and distant thunder, drawing ever closer. Such sounds should have been a comfort, helping soothe her, but on this night, they seemed ominous - one more approaching possibility of threat.

She knew what would soothe her. The only thing that would soothe her.

And finally, she gave in to it.

Shivering harder, exposed once more to the frigid air; the heat from the fire, little as it had been, was now gone completely. Padding in bare feet to the other bed; the floor was cold enough to burn. She ignored it all.

“I apologize, my love.” To expose Byleth to the same discomfort was more difficult - but at least it only lasted as long as it took Edelgard to pull back the blankets and gather her carefully up. Lifting slowly. Cradled, finally: that familiar warmth against her, close and tight. “Only a moment, my love, and I’ll have you warm again. She couldn’t seem to stop saying it - as if some part of her needed reminding, as much as she wanted Byleth to hear it: my love, my love, my love.

In her arms, she felt stirring movement.

Edelgard froze.

Brief - it was very brief. Byleth’s head turning - Edelgard could feel it, against her forearm, against her chest. And a voice, rich and heavy with sleep: “...El?”

“Yes.” Her own voice was thick and small, and the words came again: “Yes, my love. I’m here.”

“El...” And then she slipped away again - Edelgard could feel that, too, the relaxation, the heavier breath.

Tucked into bed once more, but Edelgard now close beside her - greater room in his larger bed be damned. The shivering eased, then ceased. The sound of the rain was correct once more. Gentle. Reassuring.

She could feel sleep now, creeping softly upward within her mind. Before it had her entirely, she put her hand - heavy, clumsy with fatigue - where she could again feel the steady beat of a healing heart.

Against the familiar rhythm, Edelgard slept.

#edelgard #edelgard von hresvelg #byleth #edeleth #fire emblem three houses fanfiction #tales of the tiny emperor #please excuse the lack of proofreading #i've been trying to finish this for almost 14 hours #and i'm blitzed #i'll proofread tomorrow #but i got it up in time!#it's still el's birthday!#happy birthday el!

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rachelbethhines · 4 years ago

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Tangled Salt Marathon - The Wrath of Ruthless Ruth

This yet another episode that was shown out of order and possibly the one that suffers the most for it. The only reason being that marketing wanted this to be a Halloween episode and for the midseason finale as a Christmas story.

Summary: Rapunzel and the Captain of the Guard are trapped in the Snuggly Duckling by a fierce storm; the building turns out to be haunted by its former owner, Ruthless Ruth. The Captain and the thugs attempt to escape, but the pub is surrounded by magic and there is no escape until they give Ruth what she wants. Rapunzel follows the clues and finds that despite Ruth's reputation as the "worst thug that ever lived", she did also have a dream; to hear her song being sung by someone else.

Leaving Rapunzel in Charge in Queen for a Day No Longer Makes Sense

Frederic discovers Rapunzel’s diary and reads it behind her back. This prompts him to fear for her safety and ups the security around her. This is suppose to feed into his more extreme actions in the finale. By placing it here however, Frederic no longer trusts Rapunzel on her own and therefore shouldn’t trust her to run the whole kingdom without him for several days. Thereby leaving the viewers to scratch their heads when he does just that in a few episodes time.

This is also presumably where he finds out about Varian’s connection to the rocks and Cassandra’s part in Rapunzel’s secret escapades. This knowledge eventually leads him to persecute both, but there is now this weird delay in between him finding out and his response. Because, Quirin or no Quirin, Frederic wouldn’t hesitate to silence Varian. We already know from the pilot and from In Like Flynn, that the king isn’t above forcefully separating families to gain what he wants.

Also, This is Abuse

I shouldn’t have to say this, but invading your child’s privacy by reading their diary, journal, personal blog, or what have you, without their permission is abusive behavior. The show does not treat this as being a big of deal as it should. Rapunzel acts a little angry when she first find out, but then never calls her father out on this clear abuse of power.

Filler Fatigue is a Real Thing

On it own, this is an okay episode, but people no longer really watch tv in short self contained bursts, especially if the show promises to have an ongoing arc. Ergo, you need to balance less important non-plot episodes with the bigger story shakeups. One of the consequences of shuffling the episodes around is that the front of half of the season is overloaded with filler and the pacing is now off. Meaning that you risk losing your audience as they grow bored of watching the less tension filled episodes waiting for the more interesting plot to kick back up.

Context is Once Again Lost

There’s flooding going on during this episode and it’s so bad that people are being evacuated. Well for starters, this probably should have been shown to us and not told. But also, Varian is meant to be out there in that storm right now.

If this had aired when it was meant to, then this a scene that is meant to act the same as Pascal’s Story and Big Brother’s of Corona. Showcasing everyone’s hypocrisy in how they treat Varian.

Frederic will bend over backwards to keep his daughter safe but will not lift a finger to help another child in need. In fact he’ll even place that child in danger, like trying to arrest him or driving him away from his home during a storm, in order to supposedly keep Rapunzel safe and to personally save face.

But since this is now being shown before Queen for a Day, that context is now lost and you’re not going to keep it mind when Quest for Varian arrives and you see Frederic attempt to do those things.

I’m Not a Fan of This Song

I know it has its supporters, and I can understand why they would like it; it’s just that’s its too silly for me and only highlights the tonal issues that the show has. The melody is nice but the lyrics are too tone deaf. It’s trying to go for off the wall dark humor, but it’s not succeeding because it’s neither absurd enough nor disturbing enough to hit that sweet spot. Unlike, for instance, Menken’s earlier horror comedy musical, Little Shop of Horrors.

Also one can not ‘die of shame’. That’s just stupid and undermines the tension of the scene. You can die of shock, which you might go into if you receive a sudden fright, but that’s not the same as getting stage fright. It’s hard to take the show seriously when it pulls crap like this out of nowhere. Yet, it’s been stated several times by the series creators that they want to the viewers to do just that.

Someone also pointed out on the discord server, that this song winds up undermined its own message, and the message of both the movie and the show, by having Ruth physically die trying to achieve her dream. Had she not tried at all and then died unfulfilled, it would have made more sense.

Rapunzel’s Character Development is Undermined

Rapunzel gets only one arc in this whole show. In season one she has to learn to be more assertive about her own live choices. This episode is meant to tie into that arc, but by having it shown earlier she now walks back on her new found resolve more so than she would have post Queen for a Day.

Yes, she still would be unwilling to confront her father, but she should be more capable of standing up to the guard and making her ideas heard after this episode. Which of course doesn’t happen in the midseason finale. So, once again, we have Rapunzel not actually learning anything.

Conclusion

I honestly think this episode is boring. I know others that do like it and I can understand why, as on its own it’s fine. But there’s just nothing here that engages me. Perhaps if I ever watched the series in its intended order it might fair better, but who knows.

#tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #anti-tangled #rapunzel #king frederic

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sergeanttpoliteness · 5 years ago

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➹one love confession, please➹(peter b. parker x reader)

The sad and divorced man who’s become a regular for the past year is constantly spilling his emotions to you, his favorite bartender. This wasn’t something new; you can’t count with both of your hands the times you’ve heard someone recount the odyssey of their life. But these flutters in your stomach were definitely something you didn’t experience with your customers, and you definitely did not end up making out with them at the end of the night. Maybe Peter B. was your only exception, though.

(PART I)

word count: 12.3k (oof)

warnings: cursing, alcohol, and mentions of sex (let me know if i missed something!)

a/n: it’s five am where i live and this is already awfully long so i’m gonna make it as brief as i can. first, i’m sorry it took eight months, but at last, it’s here, and i’m so happy and proud of it ! thank you a million times for the amazing support this story got, seriously. second, this was also for @connorshero 1.6k followers writing challenge, and i can’t express enough how ashamed i am that it took so long lmao, i’m a clown. it’s here, tho, and i hope i hear your thoughts and that y’all enjoy it (:

taglist: @fanbase-jumper

Never in a million years would you have deemed possible a human could undergo through such a crushing feeling of dread, yet, sadly, you found yourself to be wrong, for there you were, a pressure smothering your lungs and an iciness washing over you. You never would have imagined yourself hiding in the bathroom from a certain Peter B. Parker, either; but then again, contrary to your previous thinking, there you sat on the closed toilet seat, your eyes squeezed shut, breathing heavily as a frostbite in your heart eclipsed any other thoughts in your head.

For the last few days, you had tried to repress a memory which physically pained you as you worked at the bar, almost as if it were nothing more than a bizarre dream you had one night, or a movie you watched as a little kid and couldn’t figure out as a grown-up whether it was real or not. It didn’t take long before in your restless little brain, that date did not exist in the calendar. So… strange, how all of sudden you couldn't remember anything from that night. Yeah, nothing happened. There’s no reason or possible explanation as to why you nearly dropped dead to the ground every time the entrance opened, or why your lower stomach erupted like a geyser refusing to rest whenever you caught a glimpse in the mirror of the bruises on your neck and, just maybe, somewhere in the back of your head, recalled how they came to be in the first place; how the small vessels burst, why they’re there. Your self-induced amnesia surprisingly worked. Yeah, like a charm. Until you looked up for the billionth time and it wasn’t another false alarm. The fortress of protection you constructed collapsed as if it took no effort to build it, because there he was— there stood Peter, just a few feet away from you.

Of course, you panicked; hysterically searched your surroundings for an excuse to leave, but no one wanted to bother you when you most needed it. Terrible luck, indeed. You only had two choices (although, really, you most likely had more): you could be, you know, smart and face your problems, or, Peter, to be more concise, or you could run away to hide and wait it out in the bathroom. So, after analyzing it thoroughly for approximately two seconds, what did you do?

Get the fuck out of there, obviously; you threw your towel, sped out of the bar, and instantly headed to have the meltdown of the century in the bathroom.

You screamed into your hands as you relived everything in your head, stomping your foot on the floor tiles. Remorse didn’t suffice anymore to explain the sharp pain in your stomach. You’d sabotaged yourself— you got a nip that night, a morsel of something greater, a catalyst for ‘what if’s and a total loss of self-control, because once the temporary high didn’t satiate you any longer, you’d seek it again. Regardless of your constant imbecility, you weren’t oblivious: it was nothing more than a distraction for Peter’s troubles and conflicting emotions over a woman he’d married, and it would never mean anything to him. It never would, despite how much it meant to you.

Suddenly, your phone vibrated in your pocket. You pulled it out, narrowed eyes reading the recent message while your heart went ballistic.

‘You can’t stay there forever, he’s starting to get suspicious.’

You breathed out, partially relieved. It was your friend. You texted him earlier as you lost it in the bathroom stall, as one does. You were close to getting on your knees and start praying to any superior entity that he was simply imagining stuff like most of the time, attempting to read in between the lines when, in reality, all Peter did was drink his whiskey served over ice, totally unconcerned. Yes, perhaps, you running away didn’t signify ‘subtle’, and the fact that you two hadn’t shared a word or texted ever since you fled his apartment a week prior didn’t brighten the situation at all. Why should it matter if you chose to continue escaping your issues? You could stay there forever, and it was no one’s business. The bar’s urine-scented bathroom could be your new home.

Your phone rang again. ‘Dude, c’mon.’

Goddammit.

Your friend shouldn’t have the power to knock some sense into you with just two messages, but he did anyway. You required an abundance of courage you did not carry to hesitantly walk out of the stall, and then the bathroom. You were sure your heart could hop out of your chest, as gruesome as it may have been, at any moment as Peter’s figure came closer and closer to you with each dreadful step you took. It wasn’t as dramatic in real life, most likely (most definitely). But as if you finally understood your situation, the charisma awakened from its sleep and, in an instant, you let out a disappointed ‘aw!’, replacing your terrified features with an exaggerated pout. “Oh, man! Somebody else already took your order? Unbelievable.”

He reacted as though he overheard the most unbelievable noise— a call from God itself or extraterrestrial life, because he could’ve gotten some whiplash by the way in which his head jerked up.

Peter cleared his throat, unsure of what to do with his hands as he showed you a tight-lipped smile. “Uh, hey! Hey…” He exclaimed and you winked at him. “I thought you weren’t here, or something.”

You thought for a moment. For real this time. You couldn’t say ‘I was just having a breakdown in the bathroom’. “Nah, my boss just needed my help… with stuff,” You waved your hand, aware that your boss had left an hour ago. He hummed and nodded, downing his shot. Wait. Your eyes returned to his glass when you fully took it in. It wasn’t whiskey served over ice.

You pointed at the empty drink in his grasp. “What’s that?”

He glanced down at it, raising a brow. “What, you’ve never seen a shot of vodka?”

“No, no, I mean— yeah, but what the hell happened to your whiskey?”

Peter pressed his lips together, shrugging one shoulder. “I dunno, guess I just… got tired of it?”

The corner of your lips tugged down momentarily. “Ah, I see…” You distracted yourself with a glass, cleaning it despite its already pristine look. You just needed anything to focus on other than Peter. “This is so tragic, your whiskey days have come to an end.” You joked, laughing quietly and disguising the aching in your chest.

He tilted his head, quirking an eyebrow and grinning a confused smile. “What’s wrong with vodka?”

“It’s just… so boring.”

An incredulous grin stretched across his face. “More boring than whiskey?”

Your smile faded, a frown taking its place. “I… I’m guessing I had just grown used to it— I don’t know.”

For the first time in a whole year of weekly meetings and ongoing chatter, an uncomfortable silence sat amongst you two. And for the first time, too, you did not know what to say. “Y/N?” You looked up at him attentively, although you did not want to hear what he had to say at all.

Peter avoided your gaze, instead focusing on his lap, and opened his mouth, closing it when you couldn’t think up any words. “I think, uh… we gotta talk, right? About… y’know.” Your face heated up as red as a field of roses.

You laughed nervously, your hands on the bar as you slanted forward. “...About what?”

“Just, about what happened, and that thing you said the morning after—”

“Did I say anything the morning after?” You cut him off, wishing you’d stuck with your plan of moving into the bathroom.

To your horror, your biggest fear unfolded as Peter let out air through his nose, chuckling without humor.

“Are you gonna try to convince me it was a dream again?” You nearly passed out as Peter cited the words you so vividly remembered uttering. “‘You’re just dreaming?’” It all came back to you, everything— your forced memory loss received a fatal blow as memories bombarded your brain: Peter’s face twisted with puzzlement and sleep after you blurted out your utter nonsense and— how could you forget, oh God, how could you— the cherry on top, your uncomfortably intense five-second staring contest as you headed for the door and dashed out of his apartment.

“‘Wake up?’” He continued and you merely blinked back at him. He didn’t need to fucking quote you and remind you what a joke you were— who does that? But also, who tells the guy you just hooked up with that he’s dreaming after he caught you in the midst of trying to sneak out? B-B-Bingo! Of course, of course it had to be you out of all people.

You stood frozen, like you did that embarrassing morning, begging your head to stop it with the callbacks and breathing out. “What if it was a dream? You never know.” You said, unwilling to give up your idiocy. Peter stared at you, his lack of amusement terrifying you further.

“A dream.”

“Yeah.”

He rubbed his face. “Jesus Christ, Y/N—”

“What?”

“Stop acting like an idiot, please.”

“Peter, you literally could’ve brought up anything else other than this.” You hissed, exasperated. “Any other fucking thing.”

“I can’t not bring this up.”

“Well, why not? I surely can.”

“‘Cause it was weird.”

You grimaced and covered your face with your hands, muffling your words, “Oh my God, I know, I fucking know. What did you want me to do—”

“I don’t know, maybe just talk, you know!” He suggested with raised hands, the harsh sarcasm in his voice deepening your pained expression. “Wh-why did you even say that?! Like—”

“I didn’t want to be there! I just wanted to leave, okay?!” You admitted loudly, uncaring of your blatancy. When you didn’t hear him, your shaking hands slowly unveiled your face. A man two seats away eyed you two as he drank, while Peter stared at the counter with knitted brows, digesting what you said.

“Do you wish it had been a dream?” He asked quietly. You began to tap your finger, your lips shaping the words you wanted to speak, but didn’t exactly know how to.

“No. That’s not it, I…” You croaked out. You couldn’t continue when you noticed what you thought was a flourishing desire in his eyes which you saw that same night back at his place. Just say it. Your fingertips thudded the wood faster, your feet shifting, voice stuttering. Say you’d do it again.

“It was just a one-time thing, right?” You whispered. Then, you doubted if that lust had simply been a delusion your brain fabricated. That, perhaps, you yearned for something bigger so badly you’d projected your own silly cravings onto the man, for all trace of that weakening glimmer was now nothing more than the familiar amity the always held.

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Right.” You breathed out.

“It was just a one-time thing.” He repeated as if it were obvious.

“Yes.” You both nodded, unable to look at each other straight in the eye without squirming. As soon as some clients called for you, you shared a last glance before you left. When you returned, all you found were some crumpled dollar bills and no sign of Peter.

You didn’t buy him a gift. And neither did he, but he did send you a message saying, ‘Merry Christmas!’, and there exists a possibility that you broke down crying whilst drunk because of the smiley face he wrote along with it, but that’s something you wouldn’t ever disclose— even if it happened one more time during New Year’s Eve as your head pounded with the people around you religiously blowing their party horns. That was it, though. You didn’t see him at the bar, which a part of you could only be thankful for, but the remaining kicked itself for not fixing things when you had the chance to. For not being honest when you could have.

Your friend yet again with his wisdom from the gods told you to stop wasting time and move on with your life, albeit not as kindly, as if saying it in such a way wasn’t hurtful enough. However, after being too sensitive for two seconds, you sucked it up and knew that he was right.

You managed to keep Peter out of your thoughts most of the time, focusing on your job and getting additional money with your paintings to treat yourself. You could go out more with your friends, buy a new TV, maybe save for the vacation you’d been dreaming of for the past years. For some time, as there was no Peter in your head nor at the bar, it was just like before the man nearing his forties and with a really, really nice nose sat down in front of you.

You could only maintain him out of your orbit for so long, though.

You sat at another bar two blocks down your place, hunched over and your eyes glued on your cell phone’s screen, anticipation pulling imaginary strings connected to your fingers which fidgeted, tossed the device from hand to hand. Your friend was the fourth person you texted in the last thirty minutes, an act born from desperation, perhaps; created upon an urgency for an anchor, a quick fix that would momentarily patch up the heaviness in your chest that made an unwanted visit too many times to your liking and dissipate all the thoughts in your head. You needed something, a distraction, anything— hell, you’d even texted your boss, a known shopaholic, asking if she wanted to go shopping. But everyone appeared to be doing something that night, too engaged in their own affairs to remember you. It was selfish, you understood, to think that way; they had lives, after all. Nevertheless, that selfishness was a blemish you couldn’t vanish as the three dots emerged, followed by the exact same message you dreaded: ‘Can’t tonight, I’m with dad. What about tomorrow?’ There was no tomorrow, though. No, you ached for it right now, in that instant, something.

Peter.

No. You couldn’t. Another decline was a final blow you couldn’t withstand, anyway, especially from him. However, you weren’t the one making the decisions anymore. Your heart manipulated your limbs, and in a blur, you’d searched his contact. Too soon to your liking, you heard that tedious beeping, your heartbeat then the sole noise in your ears once it halted. All of a sudden, you couldn’t talk, your words lodged in your throat, because it was strange to hear that voice again and it was too much for you right now.

“Y/N? Are you there?” Peter said after you didn’t make the slightest sound, hesitance evident in his tone, for he wondered whether it’d been an accidental butt dial. You took in a big breath and pressed your phone closer to your ear, your elbows aching from the hard counter they rested upon.

“...Hi.” You scrunched up your nose, shaking your head at yourself.

“What… what’s up?” It was odd, you both knew, because when did you ever call each other, and when was the last time you two talked? But turning a blind eye to your friend’s advice, you itched to fulfill your own cravings that night— it didn’t really matter what kind, but just a friend was all you needed, just someone.

You stuttered for a while, internally grateful he remained silent and waited for you to clear your mind. “Nothing. That’s why I’m calling, I guess. Just wanted to talk.”

“To talk?” You could hear the engines of driving vehicles in the background and you frowned, scratching the back of your head.

“Sorry, are you busy? I didn’t mean to bother you. I can call another time—”

“No, no!” He stopped you, your heart growing wings, fluttering and capable of flying out of your chest with how gentle he sounded. “I just got done with something and I’m going back home, you don’t have to hang up.”

You hit the tip of your shoes against the bar, tense brows still not relaxing. “Oh, okay…”

“Are you at work?

“No, my shift ends at a normal time on Friday’s, thankfully.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I see— so you’re home alone and bored?”

You observed the place around you, focusing on the bartender and then on your drink. “Eh, not exactly.” You closed your hand into a fist, struggling to not dissect the skin around your nails like an animal in a biology class. “I know this is unusual, we never really talk outside of the bar and we haven’t seen each other in a while, but…”

“It’s kinda our first phone call, isn’t it?”

You smiled, your lip trembling. “Y-Yeah. Our first phone call.” You almost cursed when your voice wavered.

“Hey, you alright?”

You sighed, scratching your head. “Not gonna lie, I’ve been better.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“It’s stupid, I don’t know. It’s a Friday night— everyone’s out having a good time, and I’m just… here, in a bar and on my own.” You shrugged, your nails carving the timber.

“It’s not stupid.” He murmured and you snorted, unconvinced. “If it makes you feel any less alone, I’m not exactly out partying and having a good time, either.”

“Do you even still party, grandpa?”

“Just ‘cause I’m old, it doesn’t mean I still haven’t got the moves.”

“It definitely sounds like you don’t.”

“Don’t sound so sure, you haven’t seen me at my best.” Seeing him wasn’t necessary, you could easily imagine his teasing grin.

“Hm, yeah, I’d immediately take off my clothes if you pretended to lasso me at the club.” You both giggled and you hugged yourself, glancing at the empty stool beside you, biting the inside of your cheek. “Do you maybe want to come and have a drink with me?” You shot your shot, to your thumping heart’s dismay. Guessing by the click you distinguished, he probably just got back home.

“...Have a drink with you?”

“J-Just to hangout, you know.” You quickly explained. “Chat for a while. I can pay, if you want.”

You waited for a response, a rejection. But it didn’t come.

It was quite embarrassing, to say the least, that after he agreed and you hung up, you almost dropped your phone with how the fright weakened your arms as you tried to send him the bar’s address. You eagerly waited, too, like a damn puppy anticipating its owner’s return at the end of the day. Using your phone’s selfie camera, you checked your appearance, tidying up all just to make yourself look way more put together than you actually were, even if you were in a bar, alone, and, well, drinking. Despite your awaiting, though, you were taken off guard when a man chose to settle down beside you and cleared his throat.

“I gotta say, it’s weird to see you on the other side of the bar,” Peter smiled as a greeting. Your eyes scanned him, taking in his presence, struggling to process it as if he were a ghost. In your defense, it did feel as if he hadn’t been part of your world for the last two months.

You chuckled, shyly moving your view to your beverage. “Sorry, I won’t be playing bartender tonight.”

“Too bad, I like it when you give me free drinks.”

“Technically, you still are getting free drinks from me tonight.”

He huffed, a crooked smile lingering on his face. You called for the bartender and side-glanced at Peter, quietly asking what he wanted and biting back a disappointed grunt when it wasn’t whiskey served over ice. Whatever. It was just a drink. You two didn’t share a look after that small interaction, though, your face flustered, redder than the bartender’s awful and painful-to-look-at-from-how-bright-it-was shirt. You preferred to believe it was the alcohol, regardless of the truth that you hadn’t drunk that much yet. But your skin burned since he was there, and suddenly, the last disastrous meeting you two experienced replayed way too loudly in your head, the scorching sensation only spreading further and gaining more vigor with the possibility that it did the same in his, too. The unspoken and evident discomfort was enough to make you assume that it definitely was on his mind.

You made the effort to spark up a conversation with the dreaded small talk. ‘How have you been?’, ‘Anything new?’, ‘The weather’s been pretty cold lately, huh?’— blah, blah, blah. Nonetheless, neither of you had more to say other than short, boring responses. It became so unbearable, you knew the only way you could get through this night— seeing as you couldn’t leave after he’d just gotten there— depended on your current and whoever many you could afford future drinks. Quite an alcoholic mindset, perhaps, but there was no way you were the only one or that Peter didn’t have the same wish as you.

Holding your third drink, tispy thoughts pressed you to climb out of the hell you were in. You turned your body to face him, nudging his leg with your foot. He’d been paying attention to a wildlife documentary and an animal hiding from its predator before he lifted an eyebrow and nodded at you. “What?”

“Where have you been?”

A crease formed between his brows as he found it hard to differentiate this question from the one you asked earlier. “I told you, I haven’t really been up to much—”

You shook your head. “That’s not what I asked. Where have you been?” Peter pursed his lips, contemplating.

“New York.”

You hummed, bringing your drink up to your lips. “Okay. So if you were here, how come I haven’t seen you since, uh—” You pretended to count in your head, tongue poking out of your mouth as you summed with your fingers. “—December?”

“I was busy.” You narrowed your eyes.

“I thought you hadn’t been up to much?”

“I… haven’t,” Peter said slowly, too far in to escape the contradiction. You bit your lip before finishing your half-empty drink all in one go, head spinning, the weight in your stomach drawing you down to the Earth’s core.

It’s difficult to perceive the line between overthinking and legitimacy. It’s so fine and faint, like a message written with chalk in the middle of the neighborhood’s road that can only be deciphered if you stare at it long and closely enough after the days have passed by and the rain showered upon it. On one side, the message was nothing more than scrawls and nonsensical letters, an unnecessary distraction on the road disrupting you from reaching your destination on time. But then, there was the other side: the truth. A truth that, funnily enough, you reached by overthinking in the first place. Which was what occurred when you suspected the reasoning behind the lack of Peter in your life could be pinpointed to the man purposefully avoiding you; and, right now, grasped that, after all, it wasn’t just another case of irrational overanalyzing.

“Do you hate me?” You blurted out, your eyes going round with the disappearance of your filter. Confusion overflowed Peter’s head and spilled into his expression, adorning his face.

“Huh?”

“Do you hate me—”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time. Where the hell did that come from, though?”

“You’ve been ignoring me.” You stated the obvious, visibly hurt. Peter denied with his head the misconception, sighing.

“It wasn’t intentional.” He assured you not just with his words but his gaze, too. You pressed your lips together, not fully convinced.

“Was it not?” You asked with a small quirk of your mouth. He stared at you, embarrassment crawling across his skin.

“Alright, maybe it was.” He admitted sheepishly. You let out air through your nose, turning on your seat.

“So you do hate me.”

“Y/N,” Peter called for your attention, although he knew it was half-joke. You returned your attention to him. “If I hated you, would I be here, sitting next to you?” He questioned, motioning around him. You shrugged one shoulder, a grin growing on your face.

“I don’t know, maybe you’re just being nice.” You said and he groaned jokingly, sporting his very own lopsided grin.

“I’m being nice because I like you.”

Your smile fell for an instant, but you put the expression back up, reminding yourself that, once more, it didn’t go further than platonic. “Good. But you were mad, then.”

“No, not exactly.”

“You left without saying goodbye last time.”

Peter frowned, rubbing the nape of his neck. “I did. Sorry.” He apologized, the sincerity interlaced in his voice worsening your state. You wanted to place your hand on your chest, as you diagnosed with your zero quantity of medical knowledge that you had a high chance of having a heart attack before the night came to an end.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“Why?”

“Well,” You placed your chin on the palm of your hand, moving your eyes elsewhere. “First, for being a dumbass back when we hoo—”

“You know what? You’re fine.” He interrupted you. “Save yourself some time.”

Your brows snapped together. “But—”

“You were right. Let’s just not talk about it and move on, alright?” He waved his hand, grabbing his drink. “If you do talk about it, I think I’m actually gonna get up and leave.”

You laughed, nodding. “Ah, I see. So that’s why you’ve been ignoring me, then?”

His actions halted in the midst of taking a sip. “Maybe.” He answered vaguely.

You rolled your eyes. “You can’t just run away from your problems, Peter.” You pointed out like the hypocrite you were, particularly after that was exactly what you were doing not too long ago. Peter, unaware of this, however, had to admit you spoke the truth as he rubbed his nose with his knuckles, grumbling.

“You see, you say that, but I’m still gonna continue doing it.”

“No, you’re not, because we’re going to discuss this like adults—”

“As an adult, I’m telling you that all is good and I’m over it.” He finished with a warning tone you couldn’t take seriously and you giggled. “Next topic.”

“Okay, grandpa. Sure thing. All is good.” You grinned, the ice in your heart melting off as he copied your countenance.

“For real this time.”

“Yeah. For real this time. Can I be honest with you, though?” Peter waited for you to go on, paying close attention, his gaze soft. You stared at him for a moment too long ‘till your eyes moved to your hand now feebly holding your empty drink. “I missed you. Kind of. Is that dumb?” You mumbled, your voice small.

You couldn’t properly see him, but through your peripheral vision, you didn’t catch any movement. That’s when you prepared to scream ‘sike!’ to his face— a real-life undo button to delete the emotions you couldn’t take back and shove down your system anymore. However, it felt… good. For once, it wasn’t spilling your guts out and regretting everything as you attempted to cram your organs back into you; you had plucked out a thorn that’d been hanging inside the palm of your hand for far too long. It was liberating. And you peered up at him, expecting that relief to be temporary, but his tender features didn’t let that happen.

“...No. I missed you, too.”

You both smiled.

The conversation began to flow. Words started to spill, and although you weren’t at the bar, you enjoyed that exact same security and blissful buzz. You realized then— a revelation that did not help your case— the location didn’t play an important role, and perhaps it never did; bar or not, if Peter was there, you’d still feel stupidly and overly content. Your worries faded away as you two caught up with no drop of MJ’s name, but some lingered anyway, because change was inevitable, looming over you. Laughter left your lips, his hand rested close to yours on the counter. You noticed, but couldn’t bring yourself to pull away, to walk away from the euphoria tainting your body. More liquor entered his, over time you stared at his mouth one, two, three, four seconds too long as you became intoxicated along with him, and so did he with yours.

“C’mon, tell me.” You pouted for an instant, interchanging it for a drunk smile. “Your secret dies with me.”

Peter slammed his fifth drink down, cheeks tinted pink. It was wrong, indeed, to take advantage of his condition and try to get out of him something you’d wanted to know for the longest time, and that he kept to himself as if it were government classified information. In your drunken brain, it did not seem too far off. Perhaps he went on outrageous underground missions. You laughed at yourself. Peter didn’t seem like a spy-type of guy. Unless…

“Do you, like, work for the government?” Peter screwed up his face at your absurdity.

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

Peter opened his mouth, a giggle escaping. “I can’t.” You dragged your stool closer to him, as you weren’t close enough already. Actually, when did you get so close? It didn’t matter. You analyzed his face, hoping that somehow, if you looked at him long enough, you’d gain the ability to read minds and crack into his. Peter drew his lower lip between his teeth, studying you like you were the most interesting being. You didn’t know why, but you felt tempted to move that strand of hair that always hung in front of his forehead away from his face. As any rational person wouldn’t, you did, your thumb brushing against the barely visible scratch that started the conversation in the first place.

“What are you thinking?” You questioned, brimming with interest. He went crossed-eyed as he tried to follow your hand.

“About stuff. Whatcha thinkin’?” He asked back, his view traveling down to your lips. You bit your lip.

The closeness, your full-blown pupils, the actuality that you could lean closer to him and you’d meet his lips. It all seemed too familiar. And so you wondered, if you did move and kiss him, if you stopped resisting and glanced down at his lips, too, what would happen?

“I don’t know. What does it look like I’m thinking?” You asked, lowering your voice. The stench of alcohol should have been enough to stop you both from advancing any further, but Peter licked his lips, smirking.

“It seems to me like you wanna fuck me.”

You gasped, hiccuping. “Oh, my! I didn’t know this part of yours, Peter B. Parker. Is it just the alcohol speaking?”

“Maybe. But is it true?”

“What?”

“What I said.”

Your upper body swayed closer to him, tired, dizzy, and wishing to lie down. You gripped his shoulder and helped yourself add some distance, your other hand landing on his knee. “Maybe.” You simply said. Your eyes remained interlocked into one another, your hand running up his shoulder to his neck, and then all the way up to the back of his head, sensing his goosebumps. “Maybe…” You repeated as your touch on his knee traveled up his thigh. Peter took in a sharp breath, his hand unconsciously wrapping around your wrist.

You couldn’t help it anymore. You leaned in and captured his mouth in a rough kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. Pull away, a voice said in your head as you felt his tongue momentarily slide against your bottom lip. Pull away, the nagging voice went on and you did, shaking your head.

“I told myself I wouldn’t let this happen again.” You whispered, yet your mouth came back into a messy kiss, even messier hands craving touch. Breaking glass startled you two apart and you looked down, sighing when you saw your drink’s contents all over the ground. “You owe me a drink.” You panted, your lips swollen.

Peter scoffed, his half-smile blurring your vision as he tilted his head towards your ear. “Nothing has to happen if you don’t want it to.” He said, mouth ghosting near your cheek despite his words, yearning to continue. You pecked his jaw, lips resting against his hot skin, careless about the other customers in the bar.

“I do want something to happen, though.”

You both ignored the conversation your sober selves had. ‘It was just a one-time thing, right?’. Peter slammed your apartment’s door closed whilst your lips were still connected, your hands clumsily coming down to try to unbuckle his belt. ‘Yeah’. His own hands aided yours, the clinking of his belt buckle speeding up your heartbeat as if it weren’t already dangerously fast. ‘It was just a one-time thing’. Peter groaned into your mouth, tasting like liquor, like something you’d both regret the next morning but did not care about the consequences, even if it was a lesson you’d already learned. Not at the moment.

But nothing happened.

You couldn’t recall much the next morning. The first proof that it didn’t go further from a make-out session was that you woke up in your bed, alone, and wearing the same clothes as the previous night. The second evidence you gathered when you barged into your living room and there slept Peter on your couch, his appearance also identical to the one in your hazy memories. He didn’t remember anything. As you struggled to cease your trembling legs, he simply laughed and asked if he got so wasted he had to crash at your place. You shrugged and smiled, still capable of tasting his lips and vividly feel his hot breath.

From then on, you avoided drinking or being too exhausted to have any common sense when you were around Peter. One day he invited you to go out and have a few drinks again, to ‘repay’ you, and to which you responded as calmly as you could that you had other ‘plans’; other plans that, truthfully, were faker than the disappointed expression of yours that followed. Then, as if you couldn’t ever reach a state of peace, he asked again a month later, and you had no other choice than to invent a faulty reason for why you didn’t feel like drinking that night, the next night, or the one after, even if, according to all the drunk stories you’d recounted to him in the past, you never really turned down a drink or the opportunity to get inebriated. Guilt poisoned you when he never brought up the idea after that, fingers crossed that he didn’t get the impression you didn’t want to meet him in other circumstances other than the bar; regardless that that’s exactly what was going on. Every other night after he helped you with closing the bar, you’d also nod goodbye at him and stand in the middle of the sidewalk, waiting until he turned around the corner so your feet could dreadfully carry you to the subway station, your now-unfixable car present in your head like an aggravating piece of gum that stuck to your shoe.

Nothing could be more vexing than this, though.

Eventually, you began to wonder. Perhaps, yet again, you were as weary as that time you slept with Peter, seeing as you couldn’t think straight, almost as if you’d suffered from a concussion and all your neurons died, to your utmost dismay. But there was a dissimilarity: the unfortunate detail that, unlike physical fatigue, mental exhaustion wouldn’t pack its bags and wave farewell after a night-long sleep. Not when immediately after you woke up, the same worries still found their home within your head. So your imagination took it as an initiative to force feelings and schemes onto you, ones which involved the stomach-churning plausibility that maybe, just maybe, Peter liked you back and you could happily come clean. You had to laugh. But then you really started to wonder.

You needed at least six reasons to follow through with it. First. He was the one who made a move months ago. Second. He wasn’t drunk. Third, you listed in your head, you kissed. Again. And, fourth, this time he might have been drunk, but if he did it both as a sober man and a drunk one, it had to mean something, right?

You were struggling to distinguish the line between overthinking and legitimacy again.

You went to work that day, decided, the fifth reason simply being that you couldn’t get him out of your head, but the sixth reason missing. A truck landing on you would probably do the job, you thought. You didn’t mean it whole-heartedly, of course. But, apparently, the universe didn’t know about sarcasm and how it worked since, an hour after the thought passed through your head, it sent you a nice little gift and Spider-Man just so happened to get in a fight near the bar and an actual truck broke through the walls of the pub.

“I can’t fucking believe a truck landed right here. This is why I hate living in this city so much,” You scoffed, holding a towel wrapped around ice up to your bruised forehead as you observed the gigantic hole where the truck happily invited itself into. Peter barely reacted to your comment, too focused on disinfecting the wound in your arm. You pulled the makeshift ice bag away from your head, screwing your eyes shut. “I’m starting to get a headache from how cold this is, can I—”

Peter grabbed your hand and forced it back up to your forehead, shaking his head and focusing again on your arm. “No, trust me, it will reduce the swelling.”

“Should I be worried that you know so much about injuries?”

“I’m just trying to help.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, looking down at your lap. “I know. Thanks.” You smiled, recalling the urgency in his voice after he called you, saying he’d seen what’d happened on the news. He moved on to the gauze and began to bandage your arm, making sure his movements were delicate lest he hurt you more. “I met Spider-Man, though. I think I can finally die in peace.” You caught the way the corner of his mouth lifted upward.

“Really? Did he apologize for almost killing you?” Peter grumbled, accepting the scissors you offered him to cut the cotton fabric. You released a huff of air, admittedly offended and immediately going to defend the masked superhero.

“He didn’t almost kill me, it was the other guy. Bad guys, you know? They’re everywhere.” He huffed. “He checked up on me and offered to take me to the hospital, though. Pretty cool guy.”

“And why didn’t you say yes?”

You contemplated his question. “Stranger danger.” You shrugged. Peter laughed softly, muttering ‘fair enough’. “It also wasn’t necessary. I didn’t want to interfere with his, uh… superhero duties…”

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed. “Isn’t making sure you’re okay part of his duties?”

“I guess, but I’m fine, it’s no biggie.”

“Y/N, you could have died.”

“But look at me,” You patted your torso, then holding your arms wide open. “I didn’t. You’re making it sound much worse than it actually was.” Peter ran his hand through his hair, exhaling tiredly.

“Whatever,” He said, hesitance showing through his eyes. “I just think the guy should be more careful. His job is to protect the people, not to… hurt them.”

You scowled playfully, kicking him lightly. “Dude, fuck off, don’t talk shit about him like that. He’s Spider-Man. Give the poor guy a break.” He didn’t say anything, though, stirring your concern as you realized he seemed off since he first arrived. “Are you okay?” You inquired, frowning.

Peter glanced up at you before rubbing his face. “Yeah. It’s just been a long day.”

“Every day is a long day when it comes to you, isn’t it?” You joked lightly, nudging him a second time. “You helped me, now let me help you. What’s up?”

He moved his head from one side to another. “You’re always helping me.” He said almost as an apology, smiling sadly. You smirked back, standing up from your seat next to him to jump over the bar. You grasped an empty shot glass, checking no small debris had made its way into for the sake of Peter’s health (now, that’d be a hell of a lawsuit) before you slid it towards him.

“It’s my job as your bartender.”

He peered down at the glass and then up at you. Chuckling defeatedly, he took ahold of it, and you read it as ‘ah, the hell with it’ as you reached for the bottle of vodka. “I fucked up.” He whispered while you poured the liquid.

You screwed the cap closed, your eyebrows lifting high. “How come?”

Peter placed his head in his hands, nose crinkling. “I, um… talked to MJ?” And just like that, your mood took a fall as well, an inaudible ‘oh’ fleeting past your lips. “It’s the first time we talked in a long time.”

“...And?” You asked anxiously, folding your arms across your chest. Peter clutched onto the shot of vodka, watching the liquid dangerously reach for the edge of the glass after he slowly tipped it.

“Well, she’s trying to move on.” Surprise crossed your face. “And I was so distraught by it for the rest of the day that I really fucked up at work.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“That maybe I should move on, too.”

Your arms fell down to your sides. Maybe you really did hit your head too harshly, you thought, as your body started to feel heavy and you had to support yourself on the bar, for all this information you were hearing at once was colliding against you more vigorously than the pieces of wood which fled towards you earlier. Swallowing to bring moisture to your throat, you continued with the million-dollar question pestering you.

“What’s stopping you?”

You regretted uttering the words, something you seemed to be doing too much to suit your taste as of lately. However, Peter, although the question troubled him the same way it did you, clasped his hands together and you studied him whilst he went through every thought in his head and through every feeling, seeking an explanation he himself needed to know as well.

“I’m not sure if I want to. But I know that I have to.” He finally breathed out. You leaned forward, not satisfied, needing to hear more and more even if it’d hurt, because nothing was more vexing than this feeling.

“But you love her,” You said matter-of-factly. Silence. Your heart pounded rapidly enough you could sense it in your head. “Right?” You asked, embarrassed by the apparent desperation in your tone.

“Huh?” Peter snapped out his thoughts, blinking up at you.

“You love Mary Jane?”

He bit his lip as he went back inside the isolated room of his brain after only just sneaking his head out, evidently growing stressed. “It’s okay,” You brought him back out, sacrificing your curiosity as you gently smiled at him. “You don’t have to answer.”

Peter exhaled thankfully, downing his shot. “What’d you wanna tell me earlier, anyway?” He asked expectantly, his voice scratchy from the liquor. Oh. Yeah, right. Plans might have changed an hour ago, yet for some reason, you still wanted to come clean to Peter. However, right now, after hearing about Mary Jane, you forgot about the sixth reason and remembered why you never did in the first place after all this time.

“Do you… want to go get a drink?” You cursed your imagination for not working when it was necessary. Peter’s forehead creased with astonishment as if he never thought he’d hear that sentence again (in his defense, though, it’s exactly what you were planning to do).

“You finally wanna go and get a drink?”

“Hey, just be glad I’m feeling like it.”

It was an understatement to express you were feeling like it.

You continued searching for that sixth reason for the next weeks, even if the entire world knew that after you found it, you’d keep your lips sealed. Your friend put your friendship at risk when, during your September lunch with your boss, he couldn’t resist but telling her about your ‘secret crush’, saying he simply did it for a third opinion, but neither of you gained no new eye-opening advice for your boss dragged on about how Peter could be ‘the one’, which honestly worked in scaring you away from the topic. One day after, as you couldn’t fall asleep, you deliberated the reasons why you should forget about Peter.

One. He’s your friend. Your really good friend. You liked him being your friend. He’s funny, a nerd, and you could talk to him forever, even if it was merely absolute nonsense. Two. He’s a lot older than you. Not that eight years mattered that much, but it could. You were just entering your thirties whilst he was nearing his forties. Even if he’d made it clear kids weren’t his cup of tea, he could change his mind. You weren’t ready to settle down yet, despite most people reminding you the clock was ticking and you should start considering it.

Three. The iconic Mary Jane Watson. Peter’s ex-wife whom he loved dearly. He might have not talked about her since he mentioned the idea of moving on, but you knew it was easier said than done. If you opened up, he could shut you down and reveal he’s still in love with MJ. Or worse, if you two did wind up dating, he could decide to leave you for her. Four. Your friend helped you with the fourth one. He had yet to tell you about why he’s bruised most of the time. It admittedly awakened the cynicism in you, for it could be something which had the potential of putting you at risk, or get you killed. Plus, if he did not want to give you an explanation, it meant he didn’t trust you enough.

Five. You couldn’t lose him. You already almost did. Your absurd crush could be the last straw and get rid of him for good. If that was the case, then you’d do anything to muffle your heart singing its love songs when he crossed your mind or simply stood in front of you. You’d do it, even if it’d hurt.

Again, you couldn’t come up with a sixth reason. You established, then, that whichever reason you uncovered first, would be the final word. Your friend knew both a sixth reason for why you shouldn’t forget about Peter and why you should that, trying not to influence you any further, he kept to himself; it being clear in his head which one he hoped you’d find first.

It was another Friday night. You’d just returned home after wasting your money on some restaurant that definitely was not worth the price (goddamn New York) when your phone blared its ringtone in your pocket. Your heart clenched as you read the name and were about to answer immediately, until you stopped yourself. Counting eight seconds in your head, your thumb slid across the screen after you got to the last number and picked up the call. “Peter?” You were audibly and justifiably perplexed— why has he calling you at… you checked the time— ten P.M,? It may have not been the first one anymore, but phone calls were still a rare occurrence between you two.

“Hey! Are you busy?” His breathing was heavy, which made you wonder what he possibly could’ve been up to before he called you.

You opened your apartment’s door and blindly searched for the light switch. “No, I just got back home, actually.” You muttered, and then voiced a victorious exclamation when the room lit up in front of your eyes. “Why?”

He inhaled profoundly. “Cool. Great. Yeah.”

You guessed the barely distinguishable quiver in his voice could be defined as uneasiness as you sat down on your couch’s armrest, squinting.

“Is everything okay?”

“...Yeah. Yeah!” He repeated, firstly too quietly but now with faux confidence. “I needed to talk to you.”

Ah, hell. You had one important question and one only: when would you get a break from confrontation and those words? The last time you and Peter ‘needed to talk’ didn’t exactly go as smoothly. That in mind, your organs plummeted down into an expanding black hole in your stomach as you brought your fingers up to your lips. “I’m all ears, as always.” No, not really, but you didn’t exactly have any other choice.

“Okay, okay. Um, I, uh… what am I doing?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“I wanna say sorry in advance.”

You tilted your head. “Why?”

You could solely hear what sounded like wind. “You’re not gonna believe me, so just, just look outside your window.”

The black hole having devoured the contents in your system, you raised to your feet and sped to the window, not capable of painting in your head a single picture of what in the heavens the man could be planning. You unlatched the lock and glided the window upward, your head gradually peering out. Your eyes went as big and round as the full moon glowing above you when you saw it.

You stared dumbfounded, close to pinching yourself to do a reality check. It had to be a dream. A strange dream. There was just no way. No fucking way, it was absolutely impossible. It was beyond the innumerable existing possibilities that Spider-Man looked back at you, stuck against the wall. Similar to someone’s lack of subtlety, it couldn’t have been any more evident. You didn’t even need a big brain or to think, to analyze deeply as if it were a riddle in a newspaper. Because it was just right there in front of you, plainly obvious and transforming your blood into ice: the phone he held up to his face.

“Hi…” Said the masked hero. And so did Peter through the phone call.

Your phone slipped from your grasp, yet you didn’t glance down at it. You continued to gawk at the man as he flicked his wrist and saved not only your phone, but simultaneously also your bank account from having to spend hundreds of dollars on a new one. You did not mutter a thanks, let out no relieved sigh when he gave it back to you. You just stared.

“I know I’m pretty cool to look at, but can you please say something?” He laughed nervously. Ignoring him, you took a step back and retreated your head, eyes close to falling out of their sockets. The phone in your shaky hands rang a second time and you answered without needing to look at the contact.

“H-Hello?”

“Hi.”

“Peter, what the fuck.”

“I’ve done this so many times but I still don’t know what to say.” He groaned to himself. You put your hand on top of your head, disbelieving.

“Get in.” You abruptly ended the call and plopped down on your couch, clutching your stomach, blinking furiously after black dots uncontrollably twirled in your vision. You heard a thump, the floor shaking slightly; however, you didn’t turn around to look at your guest, instead focusing on the wall in front of you. It wasn’t until the cushion beside you sank with the man’s weight that you blew up. “Holy shit.” You cupped your face with your hands, laughing out of pure shock. “Holy shit… holy shit!”

“Don’t freak out.”

“How am I not supposed to freak out?!”

Peter— Spider-Man shrugged, his white lenses wide. “I don’t… I don’t know.” He admitted.

You scanned his mask, the mask you’d become familiar with after seeing it so many times on TV and pictures. Somehow, however, regardless if you knew that mask and the person behind it, you couldn’t believe its authenticity. “Take off the mask.” He didn’t move or respond. “Please.” You begged.

You first saw the stubble. Then his lips. Then his crooked nose, and soon, those eyes. The whiskey eyes. Peter’s whiskey eyes. Your hands wound up on his broad shoulders, and for some reason you yourself couldn’t work out, it just dawned upon you how muscular they were. Your eyes came back to his face. Yeah, that’s Peter. That’s Peter B. Parker. Peter Parker was Spider-Man. All the revelations crashed against you quick, glass shattering in your head, everything suddenly making sense. The bruises. His constant fatigue. Everything.

“Peter… oh my God.”

“I know I-I kept this from you for a really long time, and I know it’s hard to fully digest it, but I did promise I was gonna tell you one day.” He said, the corner of his lips twitching. But you weren’t smiling— all the terrible fights you’d watched on the news throughout the years flashed in your head, going all the way back in time to when you first discovered Queens’ brand-new superhero as a seven-year-old.

You gasped, covering your mouth. “You’re telling me you’ve been at this since you were a fucking kid?”

Peter let his mask drop to the carpeted ground, his back sliding down the sofa’s backrest. “Since I was fifteen, yeah.”

“Peter…”

He grimaced at your concern. “I know it sounds sad, but it’s not… it’s not that bad.” He promised you, but you couldn’t take him seriously. You picked up your legs, sitting cross-legged and playing with your fingers as you continued to go through your racing questions.

“I used to look up to you when I was little.” You revealed quietly. Peter scoffed, grinning playfully.

“What, you don’t anymore?”

You shook your head vigorously. “I do. Shit, I still do. I never thought I’d meet my childhood hero the way I did, though.”

“Sorry I’m just a sad, old man.”

You rolled your eyes, prodding him with your elbow. “You’re so much more than that.” All humor fled his expression and he shut his eyes, throwing his head back.

“Am I? I constantly feel like I’m letting everyone down.” He huffed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he spoke. There it was, of course; he couldn’t talk about Spider-Man in a non-degrading way.

“You’re fucking Spider-Man!” You exclaimed, not accepting his utter bullshit, but he was willing to accept it as he peeked one eye open to look at you.

“I know, you always say that.”

You gave up in trying to change his mind and shifted closer to him, copying his position, unable to focus on your view of the boring, mundane ceiling; so you turned your head to see Peter getting lost in the white square. “You really didn’t have to tell me. This is a big secret.”

“It’s alright. I trust you.” You were glad he kept staring up as you felt the blood rush to your face.

“You do?” You asked, your chest warm, illuminated with glee. Peter glanced at you, nodding nonchalantly.

“I mean, yeah. I really do.”

You turned your face away from him, your muscles close to tearing from how big and proudly you grinned. “Spider-Man trusts me.” You hushed to yourself.

Peter breathed out, exasperated, his eyes fluttering closed again. “Stop.” He pleaded, laughing himself nonetheless. You bit your smile back, moving to sit straight in what your friend liked to call your ‘parent worried about their kid’ sitting position.

“I guess I was right for worrying, huh?” You smiled sadly, taking in the severity of the situation. He poked his cheek with his tongue, shaking his head.

“I don’t want you to worry.” He sighed. You snorted.

“That’s dumb. You’re saying you’re always putting your life on the line? Of course I’m gonna worry.”

“Well, I worry about you, too.”

“How come?”

“If you’re close to me, then you’re putting your life on the line as well.”

You frowned, squeezing his arm to comfort him. “No, don’t say that.”

“Y/N, it’s the truth, though.” He fully sat up to turn toward you, his eyebrows furrowed. “It’s the worst thing about this. How many times have the people I care about gotten hurt? All ‘cause of me?”

You remained speechless. Moments later, he placed his hands flat against the sofa, preparing to stand up. “Y’know, I get it if you want to keep your distance from now on. I actually think it’d be a good—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” You warned him, expression stern. “It’s stupid.”

“I almost got you killed that other time—”

“You didn’t almost get me fucking killed, for Christ’s sake!”

Peter’s jaw tightened and he ran his hands through his hair, that strand of hair falling back in front of his forehead. “Whatever. You can’t be so sure, anyway.”

You pressed your lips together, knowing that he was right. You nervously placed your hand on top of his. “Can I hug you?” You asked like a child, giving him a half-smile. Peter looked down at your hand before his eyes moved to you.

“Sure. Y-Yeah.”

You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him hard, your eyes squeezing shut. You felt him slowly embrace your waist, scared of underestimating his strength. “I’m glad you told me. It must have been really hard.” You murmured against his chest. He chuckled humorlessly, his cheek on top of your head.

“You have no idea.”

“I’m gonna be here for you no matter what, okay? Whether it’s to vent or for some weird spider shit. I…” Love you. “You’re my friend, dude.”

After he left that night, you’d never been more conflicted about your feelings. It was a conundrum; a whole headache-inducing brain-teaser. You’d striked out the fourth reason why you should forget about Peter, the original five down to only four, but you still searched for that sixth— now fifth reason. As if it didn’t scramble your brain enough that it left you dazed and your thoughts impossible untangle, Peter unknowingly joined the game with the objective of rattling you up more.

You noticed he didn’t disappear without notice ever again, and if he did, he didn’t leave you hanging, rather he sent you a text the day after with an entire clarification. Then, you caught onto the increasing meter of his touchiness: new and unexpected hugs, holding your damn hand— although that only happened twice, but still. Your overdramatic friend didn’t even need to point it out.

One Saturday, he sat down in front of you, and before you could greet him, he surprised you. “One whiskey served over ice, please.” He smirked. You gaped at him, laughing, face astonished.

“What’s up with that?” He shrugged, grin never disappearing.

“I dunno, I guess I missed it.”

You never thought you’d continue hearing ‘one whiskey served over ice, please’ ever again. But you did.

This year, you did give him a present for Hanukkah and Christmas. A painting of one of your favorite photos of his that he showed you one day; a day you so vividly recalled, for he asked you to come with him to take pictures of an exhibition at a museum, and you accidentally broke a statue after you leaned against it in the attempt of doing an extravagant pose. To your surprise, he gave you one, too: a photo album with pictures from that day, and a message that read, ‘Merry Christmas!’, accompanied by a smiley face. In the blink of an eye, it was New Year’s Eve again, except that this time, you and Peter were talking.

You came out of the party’s bathroom, unable to tear your gaze away for the fourth time from Peter’s New Year’s Eve message, until you bumped into someone and had to force yourself to pocket your phone. You lazily swayed to the music, your vision blurring out, turning it harder to find your friend amidst the people. While your body was there, all your five senses working perfectly, feeling the heat from the enclosed space, the music vibrating in your chest, the smell of alcohol and smoke fixed in your nostrils, your mind lived in December 20th. December 20th being last Monday: a date that continued to echo in your head, the entirety of the day playing from the beginning until the pitch-black hour of midnight. It played, played, played relentlessly, exhaustingly. December 20th, it continued, a stupid date that your drunk self could not let go of.

You distinguished your friend in the crowd, comfort kissing your body and your tired legs guiding you to him, until you moved a person aside and saw the full view of his lower body grinding against a girl all over him. “Ah, fucking gross,” You groaned, pushing the unlucky same guy as you took a turn and headed for the glass door leading out to the balcony.

You firstly bumped into the door thinking it was open, but successfully slid it open and made it out into the winter weather, the city more awake than ever twenty minutes before the New Year. But you weren’t focusing on the future. No, you held onto last Monday, gripping it so tightly it hurt, hanging onto it as if you’d be nothing once it left. You stumbled towards the bench to your left, falling defeated on it. December 20th. You turned on your phone, squinting down at the screen, eyes struggling to focus through the brightness. Last week. You opened your contacts and without hesitation called a number, bringing your phone up to your ear, humming along to the beeping whilst you awaited for the person to pick up.

“Hello?” Peter said. You hung up, eyes wide. What the fuck were you doing? You didn’t answer your own question, though; you pressed the button to call again.

“...Hi?”

You ended the call a second time, growing frustrated with yourself. Having finally made up your mind, you called him one last time, jumping when he answered in what appeared a worldwide record-time. “Y/N, what the fuck—”

“Peter! You answered.”

There was a short silence. “I did.” He agreed, undeniably puzzled. You slumped against the wall, muffling your dopey laughter with the palm of your hand. You could hear… ah, wait. You could see, not hear, his face in your head with no problem: his furrowed brows and narrowed eyes.

“How are you?” You wanted to hear about his day. What had he eaten that day? What had crossed his mind? Hopefully you’d made an appearance at least once. That’d be nice.

“I’m good, thanks for asking.” You hummed happily. “How drunk are you?”

You shook your head, failing at rubbing the haziness out of your eyes. “Just a bit tipsy, maybe.”

“How much exactly is ‘a bit tipsy’ for you?”

“How many phone calls have we had?”

A question out of the blue, you knew, and you were expecting yet again the quietness as he processed your sudden need to quiz him about such insignificant rubbish. Well… did he think it was insignificant? So many questions bouncing off your skull all at once, worsening that awful migraine you could already feel coming… or was it the booze? No, who cares. All you cared about at the moment was his response, because knowing how many fucking phone calls you’ve had wasn’t that hard unless you didn’t care.

“What?” Really? He was going to make you repeat yourself? You dug the heel of the palm into your closed eye, white fireworks blowing up in the darkness behind your eyelids.

“Like, for these past two years. How many phone calls?”

“I… don’t know, maybe like three?”

Your face fell ever so slightly. “It’s six, actually.” You heard an unenthusiastic gasp.

“Wow, that’s great.”

“Do you remember the sixth one?”

“Isn’t this the sixth one?”

“This is the seventh one.”

“Okay, and why are you giving me a class about how many phone calls we’ve had?”

“Because you don’t remember the sixth one. I’m sure you don’t even remember the fifth one that well.”

He remained quiet for a moment. “It’s a blur.” Peter murmured.

“You were drunk…” You shut both eyes now, trying to dig through the fog to recall. “It was after you came to the bar…” Peter’s embarrassed stutters, similar to his inebriated ones, helped to uncover the memory further.

“I-I was drunk, yeah,” He admitted, “just like you are right now.”

“And what did you say?”

He laughed uncomfortably. “I think you remember better than I do.”

You grinned. “You’re embarrassed.”

“Of course I’m embarrassed, Y/N.”

“Well, what about the sixth time you called me?”

“I seriously can’t remember a sixth time.”

“It wasn’t a failed booty call.”

He breathed in harshly. “Ah, I’m glad, I guess.”

A frown took over your features. “You really can’t remember?” You needed him to. He had to. Or else... or else…

“I swear on my aunt.”

Your heart shattered, the sharp pieces prodding and hurting your chest. “So… so I guess you didn’t mean what you said?” You mumbled to yourself, realization sobering you more than you wanted it to.

Peter couldn’t help but begin to panic a bit at the mention of expressing something without his knowledge, or at least without his not drunk self’s knowledge. You immediately grew conscious of it for this time, the silence was different. “...What did I say?” He questioned, somewhat afraid. You didn’t speak. “Y/N? What did I say?” He pushed more urgently.

“It doesn’t matter,” You changed your mind. Calling was just another bad idea. You took your phone away from your ear for a second, jumping off from your seat, but your foot accidentally knocked over your drink. You stared down at the growing pool of alcohol staining the floor, seeping underneath your shoe. Blinking, you looked at your phone, at Peter’s name, and the numbers of the counter below it rising, marking each of your thumping heartbeat.

The sixth reason. You needed it to stop you right now; an instruction to back out, the reassurance that it was still an option and it didn’t stop being one long ago. But as your finger came down to end the call for the better, your head screamed, freezing you.

Sixth. You were in love with Peter Parker.

You dropped back down on the bench, eyes glazed over. That was it. The sixth reason. Peter. The man nearing his forties and with the loveliest messed up nose. The customer you met last year and that continued to come to bar you worked at just to talk to you, his bartender. The guy you laughed with, sang with, slept with, became too close with, fell in love with. You put the phone back up to its right place, anxiously licking your lips. “Look, I’m gonna regret this. I know I am. But that hasn’t stopped me in the past, so why should it now, right?” You chuckled, your eyes wide.

“I’m really concerned about that phone call, though.”

“Peter,” You glanced up at the sky, gulping. “I’m so glad I met you. I really am.”

“I-I’m glad I met you, too.”

You smiled momentarily. “Good. Working at the bar had become such a pain in the ass, and it still kinda is, but then you came that first time, and you called me ‘kid’ which annoyed me, but I was still hoping that maybe you’d stay, you know?”

“Why?”

“Because…” Your free hand came up to aid the other which trembled too much, grasping it tightly. “I don’t know, it was weird, I just couldn’t… I-I really wanted to get to know you. And it took some time but eventually we did talk— you said that stupid pick-up line and somehow it worked. I really need to higher my standards.”

“Hey, it was a great pick-up line.”

“It really wasn’t.”

“You gave me your number, didn’t you?”

The corner of your mouth twitched upward, and you laughed softly at yourself. “I did, I did. And I’m glad I did, even if you were just trying to get your mind off of MJ.” The truth stung as it glided out of your mouth.

Peter thought for a moment before continuing, “Maybe I just wanted a friend.” But it lacked sincerity, and you both could recognize that.

“But, Pete,” You bit your lip, looking down at the mess you’d left on the ground, the sole of your shoe now sticky. “Am I really just a friend?”

More silence. You breathed in, your chest moving up. “Be honest with me, please.” You begged, your voice hushed.

“Okay.”

Your stomach began to cramp up. “That time we hooked up,” You paused, the eerie shortage of noise on the other side of the line pushing you to go on. “Did it mean anything to you? Was it anything more than just a distraction?”

“I…”

“Or what about that other time at my place? Why did nothing happen?”

“We were too wasted. It was wrong.”

“So you do remember.”

“I do.”

You placed your hand on top of the other, beginning to pace around. “Are you lying about that phone call, too?”

“What is it with this phone call you say? What happened?” He repeated, desperate and with a hint of irritation. You approached the railing, placing your elbows on the metal.

“Just… be honest with me.”

“I am, Y/N.”

You kneaded your forehead with your knuckles, shaking your head. “I can’t take it anymore. It’s been too long, and it’s so confusing. You’re so confusing. Or maybe I’m stupid, I don’t know. There’s… there’s this thing, I know you can feel it as well, and sometimes it’s as if there’s a chance that you might feel the same way I do, but then the next minute it’s as if not, a-and it’s so confusing.”

“Feel the same way you do? What do you mean?” He clearly knew what you meant. Your eyes traveled around the city, the cold and strong breeze nearly knocking your body backward. If he knew, why couldn’t he simply outright admit it? Why, all of a sudden, was it taking him so long?

“The phone call…”

He groaned. “Y/N, just please tell me why you’re so hung up on that phone call?”

“It was last week. You said you liked me.”

You said it. He heard it. He finally heard it, and you waited for anything like an idiot, yet it never came. You checked if you had accidentally hung up the call, but when you saw that it was still going, you sighed and decided to end it for once and for all. “We can be anything. Anything, okay? I can just be your bartender, you can be my client, we can be friends, w-we can be more. If it’s not supposed to be, then just as long as you’re there, I really won’t mind. Just, please… I’m begging you…” You whispered, not capable of discerning whether your body quivered from the winter or the fear brutally gnawing on you.

“Be honest.”

Peter held his breath. “Y/N…” You waited, shoulders shaking, the stupid fucking silence clutching you by the neck as you waited. Just say it. Just say it—

“I’m still in love with MJ. I’m sorry.”

Oh.

“Oh.” You said aloud, voice cracking. “Wow.”

“I’m sorry—”

“No. Pete, no, I’m…Thank you. It’s just kinda hard to take it in, but I...” You tightened your jaw, your throat aching, swallowing back your pity. “I will. Thank you for being honest, though.”

“I really hope this doesn’t ruin things,” You could barely hear him: your brain too loud compared to his voice. You shook your head frantically, scrunching up your nose to hold back a sniffle.

“Never. I love you.” It wasn’t the way you wanted to say it. “You’re my friend. And I’m not going anywhere because you said I was stuck with you, remember?”

He laughed, a beam of light that almost mended your fractured heart. “Yeah, I haven’t forgotten about that.” You smiled brightly, wiping the tears you’d tried so hard to stop from running down your cheeks. You stood straight, but it was only for a mere second, for your arms plopped back down onto the railing from the lightheadedness which threatened to bring you down.

“Okay,” You slurred, the bile rising up and burning your throat. “I’m gonna leave you. My friend will hate me if I miss the countdown…”

“Sure. Happy new year… be safe.”

You giggled, waving your hand at no one, really. “Don’t worry about me grandpa, I do this every year.” You doubted the idea that popped in your head, but voiced it anyway, “And if you need any help with MJ, I’m here. I can give you a discount at the bar for a date night!” The excitement you forced onto yourself was salt on the wound.

“I’m not sure if that’s a romantic idea, but thanks, I’ll think about it.” You both hesitated, waiting for something once again. But when you realized that it’d never arrive no matter how much time passed, you nodded quietly and unwrapped your arms from yourself, preparing to let go of that feeling you’d clutched onto for the longest time as well.

“I’ll see you around.” You finally said and hung up. You stared at your phone, grief by your side, holding your hand. Yet, to your surprise, a weak smile started to creep on you, relief slowly sewing your heart together. You told yourself that the heaviness in your heart didn’t matter, because at least you had Peter. At least he would still be there, at the bar, with his whiskey served over ice.

As you stumbled to your feet, ready to join your friend and drink away your bittersweet ache, your phone began to vibrate. Your brows twisted together and you looked down, sliding your thumb across the screen.

“Peter?”

#peter b parker x reader #peter b parker x you #peter b parker x y/n #sm:itsv #spider man into the spider verse #peter b parker one shot #peter b parker imagine #one make out session #fem!reader #male!reader #gender neutral #sadies1.6kwc

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ibijau · 5 years ago

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Nie Huaisang/Zonghui

I wrote this way too fast but heyyy here is the Zonghui/Nie Huaisang fic I said I would write because Fatal Journey gave me emotions

Spoilers for Fatal Journey obviously, warning for character death

Zonghui is Nie Huaisang's cousin, but only very distantly and in fairness, about half the region is tied by blood to the Nie clan to some degree. So Nie Huaisang doesn't feel too bad about the fact that lately, he's been hanging on the fringes of the training grounds more often. If someone asks, he's watching the disciples' form and trying to learn from example. Nobody asks though, so he's free to watch those very, very handsome older boys train in the summer heat, their clothes so dread in sweat that the fabric clings to their bodies. Zonghui in particular is a delight for the eyes.

For once, Nie Huaisang isn't fanning himself just for show. He's about ready to pass out from how hot everything feels. Then Zonghui spots him hiding in the shadows and smiles and...

Nie Huaisang all but runs away at being discovered, missing the way Zonghui barely refrains from laughing at his reaction.

Cloud Recesses is the most boring place in the world, but at least it's nice to be away from Nie Mingjue. Nie Huaisang loves his brother, but being sect leader has turned him into the world's most boring person. For a brief moment, Nie Huaisang considers what it'd be like if Nie Mingjue were in Cloud Recesses. The thought is so incongruous that he bursts out laughing in the middle of a lecture. That pisses off Lan Qiren, who somehow decides it must be Wei Wuxian's fault and punishes them both.

For this, Nie Huaisang gets a scalding letter from his brother that threatens to break all his limbs and set fire to his bedroom if he doesn't fucking behave for five minutes, as well as ordering him to stop hanging out with that weird Wei Wuxian kid.

There's another letter with it, written in a different hand. Zonghui says that Nie Mingjue has already started calming down but, just in case, he took the liberty of discreetly hiding some of Nie Huaisang's favourite paintings, brushes and fans. He wanted to also hide some of the books, but he noticed that they're already gone and must assume Nie Huaisang wisely brought them along.

Nie Huaisang smiles for the rest of the day, even when he's stuck in the library in company of Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian.

Zonghui is a few years older than the other hostages, but the Wens don't seem to care. They have the Second Young Master of Qingge Nie, so everyone else from that sect is just there for the number as far as they're concerned.

It's comforting to know that there's someone here on whom Nie Huaisang can count, but it's also unnerving. Wen Chao probably won't dare actually hurt Nie Huaisang, not unless he wants to give Nie Mingjue an excuse to attack, but everyone else, everyone less valuable to them... Nie Huaisang is an hostage, but the other disciple of Qingge Nie even more so. If he slips in any way, they'll be the ones to pay the price.

Even in Cloud Recesses, Nie Huaisang has never been such a diligent, serious, obedient student.

He won't give anyone an excuse to hurt Zonghui and the others.

After the first battle of the Sunshot Campaign, Nie Huaisang drags Zonghui away from the others who fought behind Nie Mingjue and kisses him square on the lips.

It has been a long time coming, they have exchanged looks for a long time now, but Nie Huaisang enjoyed that game of cat and mouse they had going on. He liked the smiles and the glances and the casual brushes of hands, so he might have continued playing a while longer if given the chance.

Now is no longer the time for such games. Not when Nie Huaisang saw how many disciples haven't returned to the Unclean Realm, and how many of those who returned are badly wounded.

In a moment, Nie Huaisang will go check on his brother, then help the healers to the best of his capacity. But for now, he's enjoying being kissed and held close.

“I thought Young Master was never going to take his chance,” Zonghui teases him after, as they walk back toward the courtyard.

“Well, nobody was stopping you from taking the first step,” Nie Huaisang pouts.

“And ruin your fun? You'd have refused to kiss me just to spite me.”

That's not wrong of course, but Nie Huaisang isn't going to admit it out loud. Instead he pinches Zonghui's arm for his insubordination.

The world, around them, is full of chaos and fear, but there's still some good to be found, if you look in the right place.

The war is won.

The Unclean Realm is quiet, more than it was before the campaign. It will take a while to train new disciples to make up for the ones who died. Nie Huaisang tries his best to help where he can. It's a way to assuage his guilt over the fact that, unlike so many others, he never saw the battlefield. People fought and died while he was at home cleaning bandages and writing letters.

“We needed people to care for the wounded,” Zonghui reminds him as they lay in bed. “And we needed allies. I have the deepest respect for our Sect Leader, but there's a reason he left it to you to write to small sects and convince them to join us.”

“His calligraphy is a horror,” Nie Huaisang concedes. It's not what Zonghui meant of course, but it's still true. “Still... I could have done more. Maybe I should have insisted to fight...”

“You fought where you were the strongest, Young Master. There's no shame in that.”

Nie Huaisang pouts, both at the title (he hates when Zonghui uses it in private, which Zonghui knows of course) and at the attempt to comfort him.

“You're boring,” he complains. “Let me lament on my fate a little more. Such woe! I am an artist in a family of warriors! Ah, what a life, what a horror! How I long to be more than I am!”

“You're plenty enough already,” Zonghui grumbles.

“Shush I said, I'm being lyrical. Woe, terrible woe! All who know me would rather I follow the path of my forefathers, but alas!”

Zonghui huffs, half annoyed and half amused by Nie Huaisang's antics. A little more bad poetry, and Zonghui figures out that the best way to silence him is to kiss him.

That, of course, was Nie Huaisang's plan all along, but he still makes a show of protesting, just for fun.

Since the massacre at Nightless City, Nie Mingjue's mental state has gotten worse and worse. Huaisang hears whispers of an illness, and sees how some of the older disciples watch his brother with ever growing fear. He notices also that some conversations stop as soon as he comes into view.

When asked about it, Nie Mingjue denies that anything is wrong and claims it is nothing more than unrest of his spiritual energy.

But if things were right, he wouldn't allow Jin Guangyao to play spiritual melodies to him.

If things were right, he wouldn't be forcing Nie Huaisang to practice the blade when they both know how hopeless that endeavour is.

Something is wrong with Nie Mingjue, yet Nie Huaisang is kept in the dark about it. Even Zonghui won't tell him, although it's obvious that he knows. It's an ongoing argument between them.

Then one day, thieves break into the Sword's Halls and, finally, Nie Huaisang learns the truth.

He understands why Zonghui did not want to tell him, because now he wishes he didn't know what his family has done, is doing, will keep doing if nobody stops this madness.

It's not the first time that Nie Mingjue is threatening someone from their sect before of his unstable mind. Nie Huaisang has been on the receiving end of that a few times just these last few weeks. And after everything that has happened in this cursed tomb, after fighting that sword spirit, of course Nie Mingjue is unwell, of course he doesn't realise that Zonghui isn't possessed anymore.

Nie Huaisang doesn't hesitate before using the flute Jin Guangyao gave him, playing the melody he's memorised from ear. For something he's never done before, it works surprisingly well at first.

At first.

Then Nie Mingjue slits Zonghui's throat in one swift strike.

When that blade turns toward him, Nie Huaisang does nothing to avoid it. It has been too much blood, too much loss.

He doesn't know whether to be relieved or not when Nie Mingjue comes back to himself. It's not that Nie Huaisang wants to die, but right now being alive feels like the hardest thing he's ever gone through.

He follows Nie Mingjue's gaze toward Zonghui's corpse, lying in a pool of his own blood. Zonghui who will never tease him and protect him and ruin his paintings and kiss him and snore like a barbarian when they spend the night together and complain that Nie Huaisang kicks in his sleep.

Zonghui is gone.

But Nie Mingjue is still there, looking ready to break as he watches the carnage around them.

“It was the sword's spirit that did this,” Nie Huaisang lies, holding onto his brother.

It's hard to say if Nie Mingjue believes him or not. Perhaps it doesn't matter. Even if the sword spirit killed those men, it is their Sect Leader's fault for taking them into danger.

The realisation that Jin Guangyao messed with Nie Mingjue's mind to hasten his breakdown and provoke a Qi deviation was hard to stomach.

Another one follows, some hours later. Nie Huaisang was struggling to fall asleep, seething with rage and despair over his brother's fate, when a thought hits him with such force that he nearly chokes on it.

Nie Huaisang killed Zonghui.

Not directly, and certainly not on purpose. But he played Jin Guangyao's tainted melody to his brother in that cursed place, and Zonghui died as a result.

For this too, for making Nie Huaisang his weapon, for taking the person he loved most after his brother, Jin Guangyao will pay.

#Nie Huaisang #fatal journey #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #zonghui #mdzs #jau writes #I might try to write something better in the future but I am uncomfortable writing about material I cannot easily double check every 2 words

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briannaswriter · 4 years ago

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I was told I should take the high road. I should just accept that Hillary refuses to speak with me again. I shouldn’t expect answers from someone who won’t give them - has never given them. At the same time, I don’t feel like I can genuinely let this go without talking about it in a format that isn’t DMs.

This is really long, sorry? But I wanted to get all of it out because I want to be free of it, I don’t want it to keep being an ache in my heart whenever I think about it.

tl;dr at the end. Feel free to reply, idc, I’ll get back to it tomorrow.

I met Hillary in a group called @/heroesrpg in about 2012. While I was there, I operated under two pseudonyms: Miranda/Isa and Bea. The why for that is a long story. I have nothing negative to say about Hillary here! She was a great friend who taught me a lot about writing and challenged me to become a better writer. I don’t think I would have gotten this far without writing with her. When I left heroes in about 2013, we didn’t keep in touch. I didn’t really stay in the RP world so I didn’t pay attention to it.

In 2014, I was invited to join Ashbourne at her behest. I don’t recall the specifics of how I found it, I think it was simply me reaching out to her again and finding out she was in a group which she invited me to join, too. I ended up playing a woman named Nadeya Khan who was in a ship with her that was later discarded. Later I picked up Shiloh Morgan, the best friend of her character, Adam, and later Mira Lowell, the elder sister of her character Meyer.

I won’t lie, these dynamics were a lot of fun and I enjoyed playing them.

I was upset that my ship with Nadeya and Adam was discarded (I have a distaste for Adam and the FC Ben/edict Cumberba/tch now, I’m petty, sue me), but I think it was more sucky when all threads with them trickled to a halt. To me, it felt like my character was no longer important because it wasn’t a ship, even if a friendship dynamic would have been just as interesting. I ignored this feeling.

I was sad to leave the group, but I was uncomfortable with an interaction from another player and feeling pushed aside in favor of other ships so I made the decision to leave.

I did keep in touch with Hillary, or I attempted to, but once we were no longer in a group together, we just sorta drifted. We didn’t talk for the longest time here and I forgot her url for a long time. Frankly, I’m not sure how I found it again!

We started interacting again in about September 2018 when I think I reached out to her. This eventually ended with the creation of @lethe-rpg where we could write about old time favorite characters - and we wrote so much in Lethe’s run. Everything from romances, to long-lost parent, to siblings, to best friends, to unrequited loves. We wrote nearly twenty characters each and over ten ships in the time Lethe ran from September/October 2018 to June 2020 when it closed. Or, I should say, we wrote all of these things in theory and a lot of it happened behind the scenes in DM’s between us. When we did write things, they would frequently reach only a reply or two before we had to move onto the next one because she didn’t want to finish the one before. I’ll fully admit that I found this frustrating after a while - but I found it difficult to say no to her about anything, or to speak out against her.

Not only was she my friend, but I very much looked up to her. I considered her a mentor as much as a friend, and her approval meant a lot to me. It meant agreeing with dynamics I didn’t enjoy

pushing for a ship between my character Wesley and ANY of hers. Even if it was already mentioned to her that I had an ongoing connection with another character. If I tried to make this dynamic a friendly connection instead, it was promptly dropped altogether.

trying to get a ship between Gemma and Nate when I mentioned point blank that I didn’t want a pre-planned romantic thing with him after his other one failed.

the fact that Gemma and Lily didn’t get like any interactions completed together until I relented a little on Gemma/Nate. Any mention of them was largely forgotten. Half the time, Lily was treated like a child who hadn’t experienced any pain. Not just from Gemma, but from Gabe and from Hillary herself, who seemed to think that my young FC meant nothing compared to the history I had written for this character. Lily in general was ignored until she brought Lachlan along and prodded him into a ship with Lily. Do you know how many starters I wrote on Lily that were ignored?

the fact that Pat/Kate were the oldest ship in the group but they had like one completed thread the entire time lol.

the fact that Odette/Kate were the oldest family dynamic in the group who had like three NOTES between them.

the fact that Odette/Orion became a ship later who were just... never written. I can be honest now, I found them boring and I’m wondering if she felt the same, or if the lack of writing made me dislike them. Either way, Orion became a drain on my Odette muse, just as the lack of Kate/Odette was.

most stuff with Odette makes me sad. I feel like I had really good connections for her that... didn’t work out, and maybe I took to long to address it.

Mira/Andreas is a dynamic I blame myself on. I did feel sorta like I wasn’t getting anything written with her old ship, and I think me and the mun were drained on it, so while Mira was on hiatus and the mun for her last ship, Clark, was debating letting him go/killing him off, I didn’t mind discussing a new ship. I wanted this ship to be a slow burn, I wanted proper closer on the last one because it was a good ship and the mun is a good friend. This was handled with so little tact on her part, we were instantly hitting ship dynamics from the beginning and I found it callous. I dragged out replies just to avoid it. A shame, because I loved the dynamic, but the way it was handled put a bad taste in my mouth

she wanted an August/Delilah ship? Which I didn’t really want, but she’s really good at convincing you bit by bit that it’s a great idea. When I finally jumped onto this ship and flung myself into it, we got like two notes into it and nothing. Are you seeing the theme yet?

I got nothing against Arthur/Cora because I loved writing them, the only thing I did dislike is how rushed they were and how little I got to explore some of the Riverborn aspects of Arthur’s story with Cora. Also a pregnancy happened hella fast.

But I did have something against the Meadowes dynamic altogether: we had so many pieces of it to use that were never written. I failed sometimes on my part, but a lot of it was Hillary getting easily distracted by something else. Cora/Faolan were rarely written beyond the first reply to a thread. Gabe/Faolan were often two notes in and done. Faolan/Alistair lasted a bit longer, I was impressed. Gemma/Lily was mentioned above, but I’ll also mention how often she tried to take pieces of Faolan’s history and twist it to be her character’s pain without any consideration to previously discussed lore or connections. It wasn’t even about a connection anymore - it was about making her character the focal point. Look at how the Daniel Bisset, Aurelie, and Gabe things turned out: half of the plots were twisted to benefit Gabe’s momentum in the story, and the pieces of angst that should rightly lingered on Aurelie were shifted to the side. I didn’t even write that ship, and sometimes looking at them made me feel like a discarded sweater, but they were cute. Anyhow, this is long, moving on.

Faolan/Saby. I literally almost forgot about them, but like... Legit, I’m glad this ship ended because Saby was wholly too dependent on Faolan’s feelings for her, which he couldn’t even acknowledge because he was still in love with his two centuries deceased wife. Was this handled gracefully, did we get to slow-burn some of their stuff in writing? Sometimes. But again, they weren’t really written, and the ship was pushed and pushed, even when I wasn’t really interested in writing it because I didn’t want a ship for him yet.

Aliza/Tien was twisted out of me piece by piece, prodding at the parts of the Aliza/James connection I found uncomfortable (like the murder, like how difficult it was to plot after a point) until Tien seemed like the best answer. This was late enough into Lethe that I woke up enough to cut the ship off and drop the dynamic. In hindsight, I regret letting this even get so far.

Jonas. Just... most of the things written with him lol because he was constantly pushed onto my characters and others. Jo was hinted as a thing, Wesley was hinted as a thing, I think Nate was at one time. It definitely opened my eyes to the fact that she wanted a ship and that dynamics outside of that were largely ignored.

Do you know what it was like to put your heart into a character / story that was ignored ENTIRELY because she didn’t ship with them? Do you know what its like to be excited about a friendship or sibling or parental dynamic that... stopped getting written because your friend only wrote the character for a ship and the next shiny thing attracted her attention and instead of letting the character go, she made you think the next reply was right around the corner? Do you know how many threads we wrote that didn’t go anywhere, and how thrilled I was to write them still because I thought each time it would be different?

TL;DR: if it wasn’t a ship dynamic, it wasn’t written. If it was a ship dynamic, it was sometimes written. If you weren’t doing any of those things, you were ignored.

TL;DR 2: Do not misread this, please. I understand that RL comes first, I understand that dynamics change, that you’re allowed to change your mind. But do you realize how often I was strung along, or how often I was shoved aside? How hard it was to keep a character going sometimes because their big connection was only important for about a week?

and biting my tongue when my own feelings were callously ignored

when we wrote a ship between Selene/Gabe which was later discarded for a ship with Aurelie which had a much better chemistry, but was handled with little tact for my own feelings as I received constant updates on how their ship progressed, and also how the friendship we developed between Selene and Gabe was just dropped altogether - as it was with Adam/Nadeya so many years ago - instead of revamped to fit a changed dynamic as we discussed ooc.

when I would message her and be ignored unless it was about one of our ships

like the fact that I became an admin in Lethe to help her out and eventually the burdens of handling it were on my shoulders. I don’t mind this, but when it came to asking her for help on simple matters (sending me the psd for banners when I switched computers and no longer had it, posting a bio, skimming a post so I could verify it was okay to post, plotting out future events, posting unfollows/follows for people) or asking if she could write something from an admin post, getting a “sure! I’ll do that later!” and then finding out it wasn’t done for a week until I sucked it up and did it myself. We addressed this eventually, but Lethe ended shortly afterwards.

So. That’s how the last two years have gone, and lord knows how much I’ve forgotten. Hillary and I wrote so much over the last two years, and we definitely grew close. I thought we were beyond just writing friends, that we might have been real friends (after all, we sent christmas/birthday gifts to each other. Hell, I still use the mouse pad she gave me).

I ignored the way she ignored me if we weren’t writing something interesting. I ignored the way she didn’t care about my characters even passively until I shipped with her in some form. I ignored how it felt when entire sections of a back and forth DM was ignored if she didn’t care about the character. I ignored how she refused to write with other people because she disliked their FC, or she didn’t want to write with the mun, or she found the character boring. Half the time, she found a character boring because she didn’t bother learning about them, and the moment she did read about them, they were intriguing. I ignored how she belittled my other ships with other players because “oh I don’t think they click” or “imo that one is boring” or tried to poach those characters to one of her ships. I ignored how she made me feel like a part-time friend sometimes and her best friend other times.

I ignored the way she didn’t help with admin problems even when she knew admin duties were taking a toll on me as people demanded more and more from me. Not even when we discussed ways to handle things on both our parts to make it easier and promptly ignored them the first chance she got.

She made me feel so important when we would headcanon things. It felt like my characters were important, and that I was a good writer with clever ideas and intriguing characters, and that writing her was reaching a pinnacle that others couldn’t reach. She never said this, I’ll give her credit for that, but I have to admit, I felt like my characters didn’t work out unless I had a connection with her.

The last few months were eye opening. I had already spent the last year frustrating from her lack of leadership as an admin, and anger for the way she ignored people’s feelings even when it was pointed out and gave the bare minimum when interacting with other people, and sadness for the fun dynamics we had discussed but never wrote beyond the posted biography. When Lethe ended, I was ready to let it go and move on, I said my peace about my admin things and letting the characters go meant a fresh start. To me, we were friends REGARDLESS OF BEING IN A GROUP TOGETHER OR WRITING TOGETHER. You don’t talk about ooc things and ic things as much as we did only to stop talking the instant you’re done writing together, right?

Wrong. She didn’t even help us close the group that she created, or helped us discuss things with members who weren’t sure what was happening. I gave her time, just short messages about random things because I wanted her to know that I didn’t hold Lethe’s end against her, that we were friends anyway. Those messages were ignored. I gave her more time and then after nearly a month or maybe two, I finally messaged her on tumblr with a brief snippet on how thankful I was to know her because she helped me as a writer, and apologized if I implied Lethe ending was her fault (which I still agree that it wasn’t entirely, it was a situation handled callously and frankly I still think people should have considered that Hillary was barely 3% of the admin team at the time since Ally and I were shouldering the burdens of everything else). I mentioned how I felt like our friendship was being ignored because we weren’t writing together, and how I had thought after nearly two years of talking that we were friends enough to chat once in a while at least, but if we are only RP friends, let me know so at least I don’t have to fucking think about it.

Do you think that got a response?

It didn’t. She didn’t log into discord to chat about it or something else, she didn’t respond to the message, nothing. She quietly unfollowed me and then blocked me. She unfriended me on facebook, I feel like that’s answer enough.

I’ve known her at least eight years and while some of those times were brief, the last two years were most certainly not. And not only does it make me angry that I’ll never know whether she just dislikes me, or whether I made her uncomfortable, or what, I’m also just... really upset that I lost an eight year friendship. There’s only one person I know longer than her and I had hoped that, if not real friends, then we would still be able to meet up in another group together someday. Now it’ll never happen again, and it devastates me. I can count my friends on one hand and I thought, you know, that she was one of them. It feels like a physical blow whenever something comes up on the dash that involves her. I feel so stupid for thinking we were friends when she showed me her priorities in Ashbourne, when she showed me in little pieces here and there throughout Lethe. I feel stupid for writing this entire thing and crying about it. I feel stupid for assuming.

And I don’t know how to talk about this in a way that’ll let me say goodbye to it because I do need to let it go, but I’m afraid that if I do, I’ll lose my ability to write because she’s been such a big part of the writing journey for me.

So here it is. Eight years of friendship summed up in however long this is and here I am, trying to let go - and still a little part of me hopes she’ll see it and reach out about something, anything. And a bigger part that’s angry and doesn’t want to talk to her ever again because I don’t want to do this another time.

tl;dr:

I miss my friend Hillary, but also she’s kind of a shitty friend who only seems to care about people when they are writing with her and I’m an idiot for thinking anything else when I’ve had eight years to learn it. Likely if she did find this post, it’ll be misinterpreted in every way until I’m not only an idiot, but also I’m a bully who didn’t give her time and space, who pushed things on her she didn’t want, who she pitied. Because it just occurred to me now how easily she can warp the truth, how she can prod things bit by bit, until it fits just how she wants things to look that’ll benefit her the most. I love my friend, but I’m done. No matter how much I miss her, I deserve more than to be the butt of whatever joke she wants to say to make this sound cool.

#shush mira #I was gonna post this later but fuck it #long post #like.... really long post

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rkivepacks · 4 years ago

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TITLE: red nails Inspired by: let’s dress up and go for a ride (taekook) Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader Rating: R18+ Genre: fluff, smut Word Count: 4,249 Trigger Warning/s & Additional tags: Soft Dom Jungkook, Dom Reader, Jungkook has a thing for nail polish, Cockwarming, Cross-posted on: AO3/dtgloss

NOTES: ∟ banner by @rkivepacks ∟ request banner here ∟ request prompt/send commission here

∟ unbeta-ed ∟ inspired by my previous work let’s dress up and go for a ride (taekook). this is a mxr version + revamped with additional smut scenes ∟ first jungkook x reader fic pls be nice

Two weeks before halloween found you and Jungkook arguing over lunch in your shared apartment that fits just right for the two of you. you both loved parties, especially themed ones. Jeongguk loves dressing up for them, and you love taking the costumes off of him.

Currently, however, ten minutes before you are almost tempted to pull up a whole powerpoint presentation of how the two of you can synchronize your halloween costumes, you go into a full debate about it.

“I can be Ariana Grande from the God is a Woman music video.” you attempt to propose, setting down your milk on the table, gesturing with your hands in the air, animatedly outlining the costume you had in mind

“And what would I be?” Jeongguk replies, almost exasperated. So far you have made failed attempts for your costumes because ‘we need to be a pairing’. “I’m not fucking dressing up as his boyfriend.” Jungkook adds, almost fearful and disgusted at your proposition.

“Even better. you can be the earth. I can ride you and finger you.” you beam as if what you just said was appropriate costumes for a halloween party.

Granted, no one judges costumes at halloween parties, free reign, and freedom and all, but Jeongguk knows Namjoon would mind if the two of you entered his party with you in his Ariana Grande-glory on top of Jeongguk, ‘fingering’ him. Jeongguk also could not quite picture it in his head how they are going to pull the stunt up.

“Hoseok would close the door in our face when he sees us with that absurd costume and after seeing us doing that.” Jeongguk deadpans. He is almost sure Hoseok would not even dare open the door in the first place.

“Ah I know!” Jeongguk lights up, catching your attention. Interest piqued, you give attention to the suggestion that is about to come. “How about we come as Hyuna and E Dawn?” He grins.

“Cute. But I think Yoongi, Jimin and Hoseok will already go as Triple H. Nice try honey bun sugar plum pumpy yumpy yumpkin.” you shot the idea down. Truthfully, in you’s defense, their other friends already made dibs on the group as their pegs for the halloween party.

“Damn.” Jeongguk pouts.

you two finished lunch with a failed attempt at finalizing their halloween costumes. you have already left for his late afternoon classes and Jeongguk is left at home, being blessed with a free cut from his only class for the day. you grumble how some (read: Jeongguk) does not deserve free classes and halloween costumes.

While you endured your classes, Jeongguk did not fail to entertain you with silly and some serious suggestions for your halloween costumes, often paired with photos (for emphasis, he said). You shoot them down saying ‘Namjoon would hate you’ or a blatant ‘boring’.

The messages slowed down but you have been receiving glimpses from Jeongguk’s uneventful afternoon. The only time Jeongguk has ever stood up from his area on the sofa was to pee (and that was almost forced and done as a moral obligation because he is a human being with responsibilities that include taking care of his health) and fetch food from the cupboard.

Jeongguk has been sending you messages throughout the movie he’s watching such as:

Wanna go as Iron Man and Jarvis? Wanna go as Wanda so you can use your mind power and make me do things? Oooh baby we can go as Trump and America so you can fuck me up.

The next day, with your halloween plans still undecided, passed by and it’s almost night and you have yet to come back from your shift at the music store inside the campus.Jungkook knows for sure that cursed shift ended almost two hours ago and you missing from their little apartment only means that you are currently in the middle of doing something that requires NOT having Jeongguk’s input and must be done WITHOUT Jeongguk’s knowledge. Jeongguk has been typing his rapid text messages to you when you keyed in and let yourself in through your apartment, bag and a paper bag on your right hand. You had this sheepish smile and glint in your eyes plastered that tells Jeongguk something is definitely up. He just contemplates if it has something to do with their ongoing halloween costumes agenda. He also hopes it does not affect his costume.

“Neulbin asked me to do an extra hour because he had an emergency and then I dropped by the pharmacy.” you share, putting away your bag and set the paper bag under their coffee table.

“I did not say anything.” Jeongguk snorted.

“you were going to.” you chide.

“What’s that?” Jeongguk asks, pointing at the paper bag.

“Something I need.”

Jeongguk drops the topic as you obviously will not let him see a glimpse of the item and proceeds to bring two bowls of katsudon to the living room for your dinner.

A week before the halloween party, the two of you are still undecided and uncoordinated in your halloween costumes. Even your friends had to butt in and contribute to the discussion, and Seokjin even said something about reusing old costumes and, forbid him for even spewing it out, just come as you are.

Jeongguk comes home three days before the party to a different scenario. The apartment was eerily quiet, save for the air conditioning and low humming from somewhere in the room. He knew you were supposed to be home from morning classes earlier than him. True to his suspicion, you have been abnormally quiet and focused on the task at hand, literally and figuratively.

you were sat on the sofa, one leg propped on the coffee table which supports your hand, as you focus on painting your left hand a deep red. Jeongguk watches as you move to be more careful as your right hand has already been painted the same red color and the air condition and atmosphere of the apartment has already been laced with the strong scent of the nail lacquer.

Jeongguk sets his stuff on the side quietly as not to disturb the trance which you have been put into. your eyelashes flutter when you blinks away the tiredness and the stiffness from when you have been sitting on that damn sofa for two hours now to paint your nails.

“Busy?” Jeongguk mumbles as he leaned towards you from his position on the arm of the sofa.

“Mhm.” you mumble. Jeongguk figures he won’t be given much attention from his lover so he proceeds to the kitchen. He also failed to get a proper response from you when asked what you wants for dinner, only getting faint responses.

Jungkook was sitting beside him on the sofa with his laptop resting on the coffee table when you finally gave him his undivided attention. “Are you done now?” Jeongguk asks.

“Yes. But it’s still wet so I can’t touch anything or it will mess up.” you pout, your hands splayed on your lap, the red paint obviously wet with how it glimmers under the light. Jeongguk notices how your dewy skin contrasts with the red nail polish, the color pleasing for the eyes. For him. you notice the way Jungkook stares at your hand, or your thighs bare with the shorts you always wear at home. Jeongguk has always had the habit of zoning off, staring at something as his mind reels with thoughts.

you start scooting closer to Jeongguk, watching how the younger is still zoned off but now has his eyes planted on his laptop screen, at the photos he’s currently editing. You carefully plant his hand on Jeongguk’s arms, careful of your clothes or movements to not to mess up your newly painted nails. You knew Jeongguk is off his daze and is now just blatantly /trying/ to ignore your teasing hand and gaze from his peripheral view.

you drop your hand that was on Jeongguk’s arm on his thighs instead, running it up and down slowly, still careful, to gently and expose a bit of the younger’s skin from the shorts he’s wearing.

“Baby, entertain me. I’m bored and I can’t do anything.” you pout, rubbing your cheeks on Jeongguk’s shoulders as if to resemble a cat.

“What do you want to watch?” Jeongguk asks, his voice sounding restrained and still taking glances at your hand on his thighs, dangerously close to his inner thighs and his crotch.

“I don’t want to watch anything.” you reply. Jeongguk risks a glance at you, knowing what you’re is implying. He leans back on the sofa, stretching his back and neck to stop it from being stiff. He stares at you before kissing you on your cheek, then your lips before staring at the hand on his thighs. The two of you do not mention the slight bulge in Jungkook’s shorts and probably of the fact that you’re not doing any better.

After a few seconds Jungkook stands up, pulling you with him. The younger leads the way to the bedroom and you had this glint in your eyes. The younger was cautious with your still wet painted nails when he carried you once you reached the bed, wrapping your thighs around his waist before he kneels on the bed, inching towards the headboard. He gently lays you down and you almost forgot to stop your hand from touching your comfy duvet and pillows and ended up messing up your painted nails.

Jeongguk’s eyes and lips were gentle as he looked at you and kissed your lips a few times and your neck but his hands were quite rough when he starts inching up your shirt, exposing your stomach, to where he travels down to plant more kisses, catching your skin there in between his teeth. He starts moving south and eventually pulls the band of your shorts to expose more skin and your prominent hip bones that have always been at the receiving end of bruises from Jeongguk’s lips.

Jeongguk keeps his eyes on you, seeing you still trying not to mess up your painted nails and be pliant for Jungkook. When you sneak your hands to your stomach which is dangerously close to clutching Jungkook’s hair, he warns you, “you don’t get to touch me.” He warns before completely pulling off you shorts and boxers off of you.

You struggle to keep your hands on his side, planted outwards to keep it untouched. Jungkook flutters kisses across your hips, down to your thighs and inside each of them. He guides your thighs to open for him and position himself in the middle, granting better access for him.

“Shirt off please, baby.” you whisper. Jungkook plants a kiss on your skin near your core before kneeling up to take his shirt off. you catch a whip of the faint perfume too soft mixed with Jungkook’s natural scent. He leans back down, this time getting nearer to your crotch before kissing down your core. you curse as your fingers twitch and almost mess up the duvet.

Jungkook continues to mouth at your core, from where you are ticklish on your hip bones down to your hole and uses his hand to smother your thighs and grip it when you start twitching and moving. He takes you little by little, hearing you release gasps and whimpers above him, hands struggle to stay still. you already look spent as your hand almost has a mind of its own, slightly raised in the air but trying and almost failing to keep it away from Jungkook. In the end you end up touching the back of Jungkook’s shoulders almost too softly that Jungkook almost missed noticing it being there.

“Please, just here.” You whispers, running your hand that was almost painted dry on the younger’s shoulder blades.

Too soon you reached your climax, coming down Jungkook’s mouth, and the younger was quick to lap up what you give him. You struggle with your whole body not to grip Jungkook’s hair and push him down, and your feet stretch on Jungkook’s bare lower back, resulting on your toes tucking in inside the waistband of the younger’s shorts, your feet touching the soft skin on Jungkook’s ass.

Jungkook starts moving up, leaving a trail of kisses up your body in his wake and you keep your foot on the waistband of the younger’s shorts and hold it there. Jungkook grasps your plan and lets you take his shorts for him as he makes his way up your body, tucking his head on your neck.

You faintly push at the younger’s shoulders, shifting and pushing him back down on the mattress, switching positions. You start going down on Jungkook, kissing the younger earnestly, who has now been undressed completely, his shorts and boxers kicked off minutes ago.

“I’ll take care of you.” You whispers to the younger before taking his length in your hand.

you knew the younger had this picture in his mind ever since you painted your nails red and had Jungkook’s hands on your thighs a while ago. “Look baby.” You call the younger’s attention when Jungkook closed his eyes and sighed at the feeling and having your attention on his aching crotch. Jungkook flutters his eyes open and looks down on your hand tight on his length, moving up and down.

He watches your red painted nails glisten under the light wrapped around him, mixed with the feeling of being touched. you move in between his thighs and starts leaning down, supporting your body with his elbows.

“Watch baby.” You hum to Jungkook before collecting the precome on the tip of his length with a finger that’s newly painted and catching it on his tongue as you lap on the precome. Jungkook curses and he hears a faint chuckle from you that he’s sure he made up if he did not feel your chest shake a bit before you take him back in your mouth completely.

you made sure that the younger has a sight of your hand wrapped around him still and your mouth working the head. Jungkook comes deep in your throat, as you keep on taking everything he gives.

It’s only when Jungkook woke up again at eleven in the evening that he realized he fell asleep naked, courtesy of the duvet covering your naked bodies. He also realized you did not have your daily discussion of your halloween costumes.

“Alas! The two have decided!” Seokjin screams when he caught sight of Jungkook and you nearing the area where your group of friends is situated.

The two of you ended up wearing a Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy costume that Jeongguk had to restrain himself when he saw you wearing fishnet stockings and short shorts. The night went by with the rest of your friends in your half messed up costumes including the two of you, and occasional gropings from each other, with you whispering promises to him for when you get home later in the ass crack of dawn.

As promised, Jungkook ended up undressing you in the living room of your apartment but leaving on the fishnet stockings and platform boots for when he fucked you four rounds into the next Saturday, with a special request to see his red painted nails. Jungkook pulls away from you, panting from your heavy make out session. You notice him contemplating as he shifts on his position in front of you. “Are you too tired?” You asked him, your hands caressing the length of his hair. “Was just thinking babe.” He whispers in your ear. “Wanna make you paint your nails again, maybe black? Turns me on that you can’t use your hands or else you’ll mess up your pretty nails. But I don’t think I can wait while you paint them so pretty.” He mumbles into the skin of your neck, his breath tickling you. Your hands continue to roam down to his neck, then his piercings that he didn’t take off. “Wait here.” You move to sit up to the side of the bed, having to straddle one of his thighs as you stand up, foregoing a top and decidedly, you walk out of the room with your arms covering your bare chest. Jungkook thinks his cock twitched at the thought of you walking around the apartment naked. You come back to Jungkook with a clear nail polish on your hand, smirking at him. Before settling back down to the bed, you quickly grab the red stilettos you threw on the far corner of the room, and you quickly stumble out of your boots and fitting the heels on you. “You spoil me.” He tells you. He stayed seated on where you left him, outstretched arms behind him to support his upper half as he leaned back. You eye his toned body on your bed and can’t resist to pad closer to him, making sure the heels don’t ruin the sheets on your way. Once you reach him, you absentmindedly drop the nail polish beside you and gently pushes him down till he’s completely laid back down on the bed. He was sat closer to the headboard, so he adjusts his position, his bulge touching your core when his hips raise from the bed from the movement. He blindly grabs the pack of condoms he probably prepared while you were preoccupied with the nail polish and handed them to you. You take it from his hand and he makes a sound as you throw it behind you, forgotten and soon to be untouched. “I love your sexy brain so much.” He gently grabs your hair, pulling you down to him and slots our lips together. From his action, your hips raises from where you’re straddling him, and your back is arched, showing off your wide hips and thick thighs better. You’re strung out from all the foreplay and dragging out. You support yourself on one hand and the other roams down to Jungkook’s body, palming his member that lays completely hard and curled up on his stomach, down to your own crotch and you wince at your own sensitivity. “I like it when you take charge.” He grins at you, groping your ass. “I am always in charge.” You huff, sitting up and you rub the head of his cock on your entrance, before sinking down to it. “I missed this.” He sighs as you settle with your hips on his. “We fucked yesterday.” You inwardly curses, almost forgetting your plan with all the comments Jungkook has been dropping. “Now stay pretty for them baby, I’ll just do something real quick.” You find a comfortable position and reach for the nail polish you dropped a while ago. “Oh fuck.” Jungkook groans upon realizing what your plan is. His hand stays on your hips, then down to your thighs, rubbing them. “This won’t take long compared to colored nail polish, don’t worry.” You hush him. He remains in his position, and he didn’t think far on what he could do while you’re busy with your preparations. Without much thinking, his hand absent mindedly roams up your stomach and gropes your chest, startling you and you jerk around him. He hisses at the sensation as you slightly tighten around his length. “Good?” You ask him but your focus is still on your nails. You’re almost done but you act as if it would take longer. “Fucking good baby.” He groans. “Faster.” You ignore him. “Please.” “Just a little bit more, babe.” You mumble. You cap the nail polish, reaching over to the bedside drawer to get it out of the way before examining your own nails. Jungkook huffs, completely aware you’re purposely prolonging it. “Wanna see?” You ask him, smirking, gesturing to your hand. He rolls his eyes but he takes them, gently examining your hand although he only needs to see your nails. “Pretty.” He mumbles on your hand, softly massaging them but avoiding the drying polish. He kisses your palm then your fingers. You let your free hand move from his face, your finger trailing down his nose and his lips. “Does the smell of nail polish turn you on or…” You chuckle at him. “No, babe. I love seeing your pretty fingers all colored nicely.” You stretch on your position, slightly moving Jungkook’s length inside you. “Can we take a picture?” You ask, eyes wide. Jungkook can never say no to you, so he moves to grab your polaroid from one of the drawers. You used to take photos and even videos of your intimate moments with your phones, but Jungkook fears someone going through them and seeing you in those photos. You’re surprised when he goes home one day with the polaroid and even more at the reason why he made the purchase. Since then you’ve had quite the collection of mature photos. Jungkook takes two photos of you. In one of them; you were looking behind the camera— you look at Jungkook as your hands covered your chest. The photo is modest and it keeps your chest from being seen. The other, however, is daring. He snaps the photo as you remove your arms from your chest, supporting yourself on his stomach which makes you push your breasts together.

Jungkook sets the polaroid down, clearing his throat. “I’m about to fall asleep.” He pouts. “That’s too bad, I’m about to fuck you.” You grin down at him, proving your words to be true as you give him pleasure when you move your hips.

Jungkook moans deeply that it resonates around the room. He takes control of your hips, not letting you rest back down as he moves you to his own accord, your knees planted on each side of his hips. He penetrates deeper as he pairs your movement with his own, pushing him deeper into you.

You cup his head and kisses him softly, going from soft pecks to gentle bites on his lips as he takes charge of fucking you.

Jungkook goes slow, dragging the pace and alternates them with fast paced movements before slowing down, making sure to plunge deeper into you.

“I-i’m close.” You whisper.

“Fuck me. You fuck me so good.” He tells you.

You gasp, moving instead to mouth on his right cheek, keening as he drives you up until you’re almost sure you’d snap, but he drags slow, calming his pace just before you hit your climax. You decided to take charge, fixing yourself on your knees before riding him properly, your bottom lip drags across his cheek as you forego kissing. He lets you move on your own until you finally drive the both of you over your climax. You continue dragging your pace, until you drive yourself to oversensitivity.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans as you tighten around him.

You pull him out, hissing at the way your sensitive thighs become in touch with his half hard cock. You stay on your knees, crawling backwards until your head is keening at his stomach, closer to his hips. You kiss the area where you know he’d be ticklish, then you press light kisses to the head of his dick, twitching at your ministrations— doing so with Jungkook piercing his eyes at you while you focus at the task at hand.

You slowly position yourself beside him, your front to the bed and letting the cold air touch your bare back.

You reach the bedside lamp to turn it off, and right as you clicked the little button, Jungkook moves to his side to face you, hand on your hips.

“Baby, are we done?” He whispers to you. He caresses your ass, occasionally squeezing them and pulling your cheeks apart.

“I don’t know, are you?” You ask as you felt his hand slowly creep its way into your core, his finger gliding easily through your folds, combined with the wetness pooling down there from your previous activity.

“I still have to clean you, my princess.” He chuckles. Perhaps his way of cleaning only includes his hand that is currently collecting the wetness on your folds. However, instead of ‘cleaning’ them, you feel him use the pads of his fingers to spread the wetness more, before using two fingers to spread your folds and repeating his actions.

“I love you so much. My feisty, little angel.” He whispers to you.

You think you’re on the brink of sleep that you won’t even come for the second time. His touch turns you on but you have been exhausted that you could fall asleep.

“I think I’m asleep.” You tell him.

“You’re still talking to me so you’re not asleep. But come here.” He turns you around so you’re facing him, putting your leg to wrap around his waist and your arm around him. His hands act like they’re connected to your ass, and you tell him as such.

“They’re like my babies. My stress balls. Can’t sleep without them.”

“You’re lucky I love you.” You kiss him but you had your eyes closed so whatever you aimed at you probably will miss his lips. Luckily he was aware of your action and took it upon himself to slot your lips together.

“Want to sleep like this?” He asks you.

“Hm. Keep on touching me.” You hum against him and he nods slightly, keeping his fingers down your core, softly massaging your folds, lulling the both of you to sleep.

#bangtanhq #armysource #goldenclosetnet #btsgoldnet #btspocnet #btsprotectnet #bangtanarmynet #jungkook au #jungkkok x reader #mxr #jungkook fic #smut #jungkook smut #are yo calling me a sinner was written for me #forgive me #bts smut #bts au #bts x reader

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lov3nerdstuff · 5 years ago

Text

Fallen

*Loki x reader*

Chapter: 1/?

Words: 3k

Imagine: You go on a more or less involuntary roadtrip with Loki after he finds you lost in Grand Canyon. With the Avengers AND the police chasing you, you are forced to trust each other in ways neither of you could've imagined.

Genre: little angsty, but lots of fluff 💗

Two days ago, Steve Rogers had decided that every member of the silly little team he called Avengers was in need of a serious break and distraction from the daily life of a superhero, as he obviously deemed himself one. Loki had rolled his eyes at him, thinking that no one would actually take the idea seriously. The soldier always had the most mundane ideas, and thus in Loki's opinion also the most boring ones.

But unfortunately for the god, Tony, Thor and Natasha had been rather fond of the idea and since no one wanted to leave Loki alone at their headquarters, they made him come along on a roadtrip through the national parks.

First, Loki had simply ignored their attempts to convince him to come along, but as Thor had threatened to have Loki sent off to a high security prison during the other's absence he finally agreed to come along. At least he could wander off to his own liking during the trip, as long as he kept coming back when the time had come.

They left very early in the morning. Every member of the team who desired to tag along was kindly invited by Tony to let him take care of everything and just enjoy the trip. They flew from New York to Las Vegas with one of the private jets, and continued from there on.

So when Loki was sitting in one of the luxurious cars Tony had rented for them, he dared to protest for the first time since the threat his brother had spoken the night before.

"This is ridiculous." He stated quietly. "Going places takes ages when you drive this slowly."

"Oh, it speaks!" Steve mocked the god, his eyes fixed on the road and Tony's car going before them. For the time being, they had agreed to convoy-drive to their first hotel. Tony and his family were in the car ahead, followed by Steve, Thor, Loki and Bucky in the second vehicle. The rest had also brought their families and were each driving in their own car behind them. Another stupid idea the soldier has had… small cars so that everyone could discover the nature 'at their own pace'. Loki snorted.

"Maybe you would like to drive then?" Thor groaned. "Since you keep complaining about Steve's driving…"

"We're not letting him drive!" Bucky quickly interjected, earning a mean side glance from Loki.

"It's not him I'm complaining about, it's the car! These things are slower than walking for all I know!" He crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked out of the window.

"Maybe you'd like to walk then?" Steve asked in a manner that clearly suggested that he wouldn't be having this conversation for much longer.

"I would very much appreciate that, actually!" Loki snorted.

"Stop it. Loki you're staying with us even if you hate it. This will be fun! We can enjoy this trip like every other family." Thor's reflection in the mirror smiled at Loki, who just rolled his eyes and remained quiet for the rest of the drive. This would be one hell of a trip, rather literally. Loki dreaded the sun and the heat… going to Grand Canyon National Park, to him, felt like his own personal hell. Only yet did he not know that right there, he would meet a fallen angel.

You were sitting on the end of a cliff one late afternoon, your feet dangling over the edge. The sun burned so strongly that you were eternally grateful for the little shade the few trees behind you provided. But going to the truly shadowy areas would mean going to the tourists and you wanted to avoid that at any cost. Not only were they annoying and loud, they also mistreated and polluted the environment in the most gruesome ways. Also, you couldn't risk that one of them recognized you, your picture being all over the news. Yes, you were on the run, not for something you did, but something you didn't do. If someone reported seeing you, all hope would be lost and you couldn't bear the thought of that.

It had been three months since you had left everything behind and ran for good, heading to New York for now. Sometimes you'd hitchhike, sometimes climb into the back of trucks or trunks.

But it was needless to say that you were exhausted. Always watchful, always moving, always afraid to get caught.

For now you were resting a little before continuing your journey, hiding far enough off the beaten tracks to be on your own but close enough to find someone who'd take you further east later on. Maybe there would be some guy or girl you could charm into letting you come along. Maybe they'd even give you some food if you asked nicely, but you wouldn't straight out ask. For now, you patiently waited for nightfall.

"You want to do what?!" Tony asked incredulously right after they had eaten their early dinner at their hotel.

"I want to go out into the canyon and see the nature. You said that's what we came here for after all." Loki responded calmly, looking Tony right in the eye. The man of iron couldn't intimidate him in the slightest.

"But it's dark, you can't see anything! You could just as well sit in your room and turn the lights off." Tony argued, earning him an eye roll both from Loki and Pepper, who sat next to him.

"You guys already forced him to come here with us, maybe you should at least grant him this one wish." She said gently, placing a hand on Tony's arm.

Loki frowned, shooting her a glance out of the corners his eyes. He was quite suspicious of the redhead, though he disliked her a little less than the rest of the team. She seemed not utterly displeased with him being here, that was a start.

"Geez, do you want to take him to the canyon at this time of night?" Tony whined, turning to Pepper with a sigh, then to Thor. "He's your brother, why don't you take him?"

Thor shrugged, rising his hands in defense. "Can't we just let him drive on his own? I mean, the cars have GPS and obviously none of us is in the mood to drive him there."

"Does he even know how to drive?" Tony grumbled, already sensing that this was a bad idea.

"I'm right here, in case you didn't notice. But why talk to me when you can talk to my brother…" Loki rolled his eyes. "Obviously I can drive. I'm a god, you puny human."

Tony frowned and looked at Thor. "If he goes missing or anyone in this darn state gets killed tonight, I swear I will make you responsible for his actions."

Thor sighed, then looked at Loki who was as stoic and slightly bored as ever. "Don't make me regret this, brother…" He said quietly and Tony made Steve hand over the keys of their shared car.

"What's he gonna do? Drive around and sing along to sad love songs?" Bucky laughed from down the table when he noticed the ongoings.

"Probably getting us all killed somehow…" Steve muttered.

"Seriously? Does not a single one of you trust me?" The feigned hurt in Loki's voice made Thor snort.

"No." Steve, Bucky, Natasha and Tony answered in unison.

Loki ignored them, grabbed the keys from the table and his leather jacket from his chair and was off without another word.

"Be back by midnight or you're grounded!" Tony called after him, earning hearty laughter from the rest of the group, but Loki kept on walking without showing any reaction. As he got in the car, he wondered if trying to escape would be worth it. Where should he go? And for what reason? People in every part of the universe despised and distrusted him… maybe, just maybe if he just tried harder with his brother's friends they would stop mocking him and maybe, one day, even trust him.

But who was he kidding? He had tried his whole life to be enough and to be liked. Where had it gotten him?

He left the parking lot and drove towards the canyon, probably speeding, but he didn't really care. There was no one on the streets he could harm, except for himself. If he would just drive off one of the cliffs… to fake his death once again? Or did he really want to die this time? He didn't know and he couldn't focus on it right now. Loki's mind was busier than the New York streets during Christmas holidays.

Once he had driven far into the nature, he parked the car on the side of a small, dark road and got out, locking it out of habit. If Stark knew how often Loki took one of his cars and drove to the city to grab a coffee or to find a quiet spot in the nature around New York, he'd have defenestrated him long ago.

Now, out here in the darkness and all alone, he could finally breathe again. His mind slowed down the pondering and he could actually enjoy the view. It was gorgeous out here, empty and rather chilly now that the sun had gone. Lost in the beauty of the nature and his own thoughts, he sauntered off the labeled paths. Rules are made to be broken after all.

For quite a while he enjoyed the solemnity of the quiet walk in solitude. That was until he sensed the presence of someone else.

Without a sound he materialized his daggers and walked on, all his senses on high alert for what was to come.

Meanwhile, you had just woken up from a much needed nap. "Fuck…" You mused to yourself once you looked at your watch, realizing that most tourists must have left already at this time of night. You had just wanted to close your eyes for a few minutes, but ended up sleeping for four hours. Groaning, you put on your way too large fleece jacket, hoping to warm back up quickly. Then you shoved your stuff into your backpack and stood up, taking a final look at the breathtaking view in front of you.

Suddenly you felt a cold blade being pressed against your throat from behind you. Surprised, you let out a little yelp.

"Who are you? And who sent you?" An incredibly smooth voice asked from very close behind your ear, in such a threatening manner that it made you shudder a little.

"I'm no one." You breathed in a tone as calm as you could manage. "If you wouldn't mind, please consider removing that dagger from my throat. I'm no threat to anyone. If you want to arrest me, please feel free to do so without weapons, as I am not armed myself."

You could feel the stranger behind you freeze, obviously considering your overly polite request. Then the blade vanished from your throat.

That gave you more than enough time to turn around, draw your own blade and point it at the stranger's throat in return. The moment you saw him, you gasped again, but forced yourself to keep calm for now.

"Never trust a stranger you meet in the dark." You whispered.

Not even a second later another blade came shooting up to your throat, so quickly that you couldn't even give any reaction.

"Who said I did?" He answered and you could both see and hear him smirk.

His smile drew you in and you found yourself staring at the handsome stranger's face once more. He was quite gorgeous, with a sharp jawline and high cheekbones. His eyes almost seemed to radiate their own light, even though you were sure it was just the moonlight reflecting in them. His black hair hung loosely around his face, softly curling at the end. The whole glory of his appearance caught you off guard.

But he also seemed more than a little taken aback by you.

"You're not a cop." You said calmly, lowering your knife and putting it safely back onto your pockets.

The stranger snorted and also lowered his dagger, but it seemed to vanish rather than be put away. You frowned, assuming that the adrenaline was doing wicked things to your mind.

"I'm probably the one thing furthest away from a cop." He said calmly. "I'm Loki."

"Loki as in… New-York-Attacks Loki?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Why does everyone keep bringing that up…"

"Well, I'd say because they know nothing else about you. They have a version of your story in their heads and no one ever attempted to tell them that they are wrong." You shot him a small smile. Somehow, you weren't afraid of him. Rather on the contrary, you felt comfortable in his presence.

"You believe they are wrong in believing I'm a criminal and dangerous?" He frowned, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He was wearing a black leather jacket with a green sweater underneath, combined with casual suit pants. An odd, yet fitting mix.

"Oh, I very much believe you are dangerous, probably more than anyone else on this planet right now. And you are a criminal, by law. But so am I, that doesn't say anything about you really." You answered confidently. "But I think that they're missing half of the story. I mean… after Thanos and all, it was quite obvious that you weren't really to blame for the attack. If you ask me, I assume that he somehow forced you to do it. But what do I know…"

Loki watched you curiously. It was rare that people ever bothered to question common truths, especially if they concerned him.

"Who are you?" He finally asked, utterly intrigued by you, but hiding it very well.

"I'm Y/N." You answered, not bothering to try to lie to the literal god of lies. "I hope you've never heard of me."

"Indeed I haven't." He smirked, eyeing you up and down. "Tell me, Y/N… What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?"

"Sit down with me for a while and I might just tell you." You winked, getting the blanket you had just stowed away in your bag back out and placing it at the edge of the cliff. Then you sat down, looking up at him expectantly.

He let out a small laugh. "You're quite comfortable in my presence." He noted as he indeed sat down, as far away from you as the blanket would allow.

"Why wouldn't I be?" You asked sincerely, blinking at him. The clouds which had covered most of the sky up until now disappeared, leaving the open sky's starry landscape exposed. The moon was just bright enough for you to be able to see Loki on the other end of the blanket.

"Most people are afraid of me. Or at least they do not trust me." He laughed, but you could tell he didn't find it funny at all. For someone so complex, you found him quite easy to read.

"Well, you had the chance to kill me, I had the chance to kill you, we didn't do it, so now I'm pretty sure we're not gonna kill each other any time soon." You shrugged. "And I don't have to trust you to be nice to you, I guess… you didn't do anything to earn my mistrust nor my trust and neither did I."

A small smile played on Loki's lips as he watched you, his elbows resting on his knees. He didn't know why, but he had taken an immediate liking to you. You were so different than the people he was normally surrounded by, so fierce and confident. But he could tell there was more to you than this facade you put on. Being able to see through people was something he was used to, but usually he didn't deem them interesting enough to actually try and find out more about them. And there was no way he'd actually open up to people and let them read him.

With you, however, he felt his control slip and his facade breaking down ever so slowly. It both frightened and excited him that you were able to cause such a reaction within him in the few minutes you had talked.

"So… what are you doing out here? I mean… aren't there some superhero duties or something you gotta attend to?" You leaned your head to the side and smiled at him.

"What makes you believe I'm the hero and not the villain?" Loki questioned in return with a smirk playing on his lips. The moonlight suited him, you though.

"Every villain is a hero in his own mind." You simply replied, turning his smirk into a small smile before it vanished completely.

"But seriously, why are you here?" You asked once more, less forward and a lot quieter. There was absolutely no reason for him to answer to you, and you knew that he could leave you in an instant if he desired so, but it was worth a shot.

"I came out here to finally be able to breathe again." He responded just as calmly, his eyes searching for something he couldn't quite grasp within your own.

"I know what you mean…" You sighed and laid down on your back, looking up at the stars above you. "Sometimes the only company one can bear is that of oneself. Leaving the desolation of social life behind you and simply run."

Loki remained sitting where he was and watched you as you gazed upon the stars. There was so much truth in your words, he didn't doubt for a second that you knew exactly how he felt. Had felt that way as well. Maybe, you were just as broken as he was.

"And why are you here?" He finally asked, tearing his eyes away from you. If you kept on being the kindest and most intriguing creature he'd ever met, he didn't know how to save himself from falling.

And fall he would.

A.N.:

Do you guys want a second part? ;) Let me know if you wanna be tagged!

Part 2 Part 3

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