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forestwater87 · 7 years ago

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Ascendant, Ch. 4

(In which I badly rip of setepenre-set’s style so much I have to credit it)

“Sister Hannah doesn’t think you’re ready for ascension.”

“And here I thought we were getting close,” Kevin said dryly, keeping his focus on his “garden.” He’d been letting this part of his supply grow thin; Daniel didn’t enjoy the outdoors, and his visits had increased until he appeared at Kevin’s trailer almost every day. But he’d be damned if he let court-mandated bonding fuck up his business.

Daniel leaned against the side of the trailer, springing upright with a pained hiss as his skin met the sun-baked metal. “She thinks you have too much negativity in your system. It’s clouding your mind with doubts.”

Kevin frowned, glancing up from the plant he was tending. “Isn’t that what ascension is supposed to do? Clear out all that shit so I can be a good little cultist?”

“Don’t say that,” he snapped, his expression darkening. “She’s right — you’re so swamped with toxins, the Confederacy would never accept you.”

Kevin was surprised to find that . . . actually hurt, a little. Not that he gave a damn what Daniel’s Ancient Ones thought, but — “Hey, fuck you. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

Daniel scoffed, crossing his arms and looking away. “Please. You have so many impurities it’s disgusting. You’re tainted.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Kevin said, standing. He headed back toward his trailer, letting his shoulder knock into Daniel’s roughly. “What’re you doing wasting your time here, then, if I’m not gonna be invited to the party?” He smirked, even though the knot in his stomach was anything but funny. “Are you breaking up with me?”

Daniel didn’t answer. Kevin glanced back to see him standing in the same spot by the garden, looking shiny and lost and exposed without the safety of drawn curtains and soft lamplight.

A wave of — something — washed over him, hot and cold and strangely feverish. “How long have you known I’m not going to ascend?”

Exactly how long had Daniel been told he was a lost cause and kept coming here anyway? (Hell, he probably didn’t even need to be told; no one could possibly expect someone known as Dirty Kevin to fit into a world of cleanliness and purity.)

How much did Sister Hannah even know about this?

Daniel’s mouth worked, angry red blotches flaring up along his cheeks and neck. “What are you talking about?”

Kevin paused in the doorway. “Are you coming in? Or do you have a party to plan?”

After a moment, Daniel followed him into the trailer and took his usual seat on Kevin’s couch, crossing his arms and legs like a very displeased, pale Twizzler.

Kevin settled down at his only table, snagging a tote bag from under the sink and emptying it in front of him; dozens of orange prescription bottles rolled over the pocked wood surface. “To be honest I’m kinda glad to be left out,” he said conversationally, picking through the bottles and sorting them. “You probably are too, huh?”

Daniel had been watching his work curiously, but when Kevin glanced up at him his eyes immediately darted away. “Someday you’re going to say something that makes sense,” he muttered, his voice a sullen growl, “and I’m pretty sure the shock of it would kill Xemüg Himself.”

Kevin was surprised into a laugh. God, what an asshole. “It’d probably make more sense if you were fucked up,” he said with a grin, shaking one of the pill bottles like maracas. “What d’ya say, wanna try some good old-fashioned Earth toxins?”

Daniel ignored him, frowning at Barbra; her ears flattened against her head and she hissed. It was her standard response to Daniel, which Kevin thought proved she had excellent judgement of character.

“But seriously, ascending means you basically lose everything negative, right?” When Daniel nodded reluctantly, he continued. “No drugs, no sarcasm, no inappropriate jokes or uncomfortable questions, right?”

“A pleasant side effect of ascension,” he grumbled, “would be making you infinitely more bearable.”

“That’s basically everything about me.” He shot Daniel his most charming smile — although he refused to look over, so the effect was somewhat wasted. “Wellll, I think you’ve gotta like at least some of those things or you wouldn’t keep coming around.”

Daniel’s head snapped in Kevin’s direction, his eyes wide and his lips parted. (Of it wasn’t for the unsettling cult vibes, the kid would look every bit like a Disney princess.) “That —“

“Admit it,” he needled, tapping the bottle in his hand on the table, “you’d miss me if I ascended.”

“I doubt it. You never go away — why would ascension change that?”

He decided not to point out that he’d never sought Daniel out once. “What makes you think I’d stick around? Doesn’t everyone disappear?” Wasn’t that, in fact, the real reason he was so damn relieved not to be part of this bullshit?

Kevin had tried, more than once, to delicately ask Sister Hannah what happened after ascension in the few times he stopped zoning out long enough to pay attention to the meetings. He’d always been steered away with a polite but unswayable change of subject. Daniel, though he didn’t seem to understand a whole lot more about all this than he did, was at least a lot worse at maintaining secrecy. “Hey, where’d you guys come from, anyway? S’not like you grew up around here.” It had taken him a few weeks to recognize the little white house the Circle of the Confederacy was using as a church, but it had belonged to one of his old high-school teachers as recently as a year ago (he should know; Mrs. Parsons was one of his infrequent-but-predictable customers).

Daniel glanced up, distracted from his staring war with the cat -- Barbra, satisfied with her victory, celebrated by sniffing Daniel’s hand and then darting under Kevin’s chair. “The Elders and their flocks are always traveling,” he said carefully, “to keep finding new members.”

Great, they were back to parroting party lines. Sister Hannah had said essentially the same thing, at the last meeting. “Right, but the place you were last. It had a name.” When Daniel just looked at him, his expression telegraphing the snide “obviously” so clearly he might as well have just said it, Kevin sighed, shaking his head and reminding himself that it wasn’t Daniel’s fault that he was a goddamn idiot. “What was the name?”

“Why do you care?” Kevin didn’t bother replying; sometimes the best thing to do was just wait until Daniel’s curiosity overcame his general difficultness and assholery. And sure enough, after a few quiet moments . . . “La Veta. There was a school there Sister Hannah worked with.”

He frowned, pushing his chair back and nearly giving his cat a heart attack, if the baleful stare she gave him was any indication. “Why do I know that name?” He’d thrown his sweatshirt over the back of the easy chair before going out to the garden, and he rifled through the pockets for his phone. Across the room he noticed Daniel grimace, but ignored it in favor of Googling.

“Jesus fuck.”

La Veta, Colorado. Population of like a thousand, probably very pretty in one of those “this is a shithole but it has quaint charm to someone who’s just driving through” ways, completely unremarkable.

Except for that one time forty high-school kids dropped dead.

Kevin remembered that story, not only because it was a drama for the old fucks to pick apart in their rocking chairs -- one of the great unsolved, after all, no fingerprints except the students’ on the poisoned cups, none of the parents or friends really knew what all those kids were up to, some top-secret Jonestown shit -- but because it had forced him to be extra careful with everything he sold. People were paranoid for a long time after that about taking anything from strangers, even their friendly neighborhood drug dealer.

“This . . . was you?” He needed to call the police. Probably. “This was fucking you.”

“It was an accident,” Daniel added immediately, as though he’d just been waiting for the opportunity to speak. “I wasn’t there -- I was too young, wasn’t ready -- hadn’t been properly trained like I am here and something went wrong with -- with the ascension, there was nothing Sister Hannah could do . . . she was inconsolable -- I, I had to make sure we got out of town safely, she couldn’t stop crying -- it wasn’t on purpose!”

His head was buzzing, fluffy and clouded like Barbra had coughed up a hairball onto his brain. He really had to call the police. He and the police weren’t exactly on good terms, but . . . this was fucking huge. This was kid-killing huge.

“What happened?” he finally managed, barely able to hear himself through the buzzing.

Daniel paused, chest still heaving from his frantic explanation (confession?), watching Kevin as though to make sure he wasn’t going to panic.

(oh he was panicking)

After a few beats of silence he relaxed incrementally, settling back against the couch. “I . . . don’t really know,” he admitted. “Sister Hannah was too upset, she wouldn’t tell me. Even now, if I --” He shook his head. “She says it’s okay, though, this time.”

Kevin’s thoughts were broken, fragments of ideas beating against one another and screaming.

(she was too upset)

(Daniel had to get them out of town)

(it was an accident an accident no one could blame them)

(no one could blame h e r)

(god she was fucking brilliant)

“An accident.” His lips felt numb. His fingers, still holding his phone but not using it to call the police or text for help or anything useful, numb and disconnected from his body like pale sausages with untrimmed nails.

(corpse fingers)

“I think -- maybe it had something to do with the ascension formula. There’s a ritual, a drink, and Sister Hannah always says that it’s very important to get it right or the ceremony will be ruined.” He swallowed audibly, looking down at his hands. Hands that were long-fingered and bony and pale, dangling limp between his knees.

(skeleton hands)

“Huh.” He had to do something, and his brain was very much not fucking cooperating at the moment. “So, uh. Before that. How long were you in . . . that. There.” He couldn’t bring himself to say the town’s name, the name that meant only news headlines and dead children.

And Daniel.

It took Daniel a second to piece those shreds of a sentence together. “We lived there for three years. I . . . didn’t go outside much, though. Only at night, really. I didn’t go to school, and so it was better that nobody knew I was there, so they wouldn’t ask questions.”

The obvious question hung in the air between them

(why didn’t she let you go to school?)

but neither of them reached out and took hold of it.

“Before that, my mother and I -- I mean, Acolyte Rachel and I -- lived in Sister Hannah’s compound. She wasn’t Sister Hannah yet though; she was like me, training with my -- with Acolyte Rachel to be an elder.

“But Brother Robert -- he was Sister Hannah’s ‘Sister Hannah’ --” Daniel stumbled a bit over that awkward wording, but soldiered on, “decided that Acolyte Rachel wasn’t . . . meant to be an Elder. She was supposed to ascend instead, and go visit places with the other Acolytes to prepare people for the arrival of an Elder. That’s what she told me. She said that we -- that Brother Robert saw something special in me, and that even though she’d have to leave me behind once she ascended, I might someday be the Elder who came to her town, and we’d see each other again. See each other serving the Confederacy together.”

Kevin’s legs were starting to shake -- he wondered distantly if this was what fainting felt like -- and he took a seat across from Daniel, supporting himself on the arm of the chair like an old man.

(he felt old, haunted and weary and old)

He’d paused in his story while Kevin made the laborious trip from behind the chair to sitting in it, again poised like a rabbit ready to run. After a moment, when Kevin’s phone remained in his hand with its screen black and dead and useless

(useless like him dead like forty kids)

Daniel continued, talking like he’d never told this story before, like each piece was as new to him as to Kevin. “She had a weak heart. It was Sister Hannah’s first ascension as an Elder and M -- Acolyte Rachel wasn’t strong enough, her heart couldn’t hold out. Sister Hannah told me that as soon as she knew what was happening, she sat by Mother and completed the ascension ritual just for her, so she ascended before she died.” His eyes were dry but unfocused, staring at a spot on the carpet with his pupils blown out in the low light. He didn’t seem to notice that he’d slipped up and forgotten to use her cult name. “Sister Hannah didn’t even stay for the celebration with the other Elders. As soon as it happened she came and found me. She told me what had happened and that she’d seen in a vision that I was chosen to be her disciple, that we’d been given an assignment from Brother Robert and that we had to go immediately. There’s no time to waste in service to the Confederacy.”

(did she cry when she told you?)

(did she cry fake tears and make you disappear)

“Another accident.”

Daniel’s head snapped up at the sound of his voice, and it was like the world snapped back into focus for both of them. Kevin took a deep breath, shoving away the last screaming shreds of his panic --

(where is this compound is Brother Robert still alive how many acolytes are dead was I supposed to be one of them)

-- and forcing some level of bitter-tasting humor into his voice. “Sister Hannah’s real fuckin’ unlucky, isn’t she? Accidents follow her wherever she goes.”

Even as Daniel flinched, his eyes hardened. “Xemüg tries to interfere with the Confederacy’s work. The Ancient Ones can’t always protect us from the results of this battle.” The tone of his voice was his “stop arguing with me” tone, the one the was disdain mixed with irritation and just the slightest undertone of a deeply unsettling mania -- and it was that last one that kept Kevin up at night sometimes, that made him snap his mouth shut and let his visitor be just as crazy as he liked.

Because it was that tone that reminded him that Daniel was crazy. No matter how geeky and harmless he seemed lounging in Kevin’s piece of shit trailer with sweat slicking his hair to his face and smoke in the air around his head, there was something dark and twisted under there, a seed that was just waiting under the surface, hidden probably even from Daniel himself.

And that seed had a motherfucking name. “Will I have a weak heart too, do you think? Or is all this --” he gestured vaguely around them, “-- enough? Just another junkie who overdosed or killed himself because he ruined his life with impurities.”

“What on earth are you --”

“Because it can’t be ascension,” Kevin continued, feeling the panic start to push at him again like hands squeezing his skull, “since I’m not a good enough sheep for ascension, right? Good ol’ Sister Jones can’t worry about me not drinking the kool-aid when she’ll have her hands full convincing you that it’s all for the best when all fifteen recovering drunks at their graduation party drop dead.”

Daniel sat up fully, concern sharpening his face. To anyone looking into the trailer from outside, he’d look like the sane one. “You’re not making any --”

“But she knows I’ve heard aaalll about Xemüg!” There were so many things Kevin should be doing, from calling the police to running for his life to grabbing the little switchblade he kept in his pocket at all times. Anything but letting the words fall out of his mouth like they were, wild and uncontrolled in a dangerous slide from his brain to his tongue. “I’ve seen her face! I’ve seen your face. I know there was a party and I’ll know why there aren’t two platinum-haired corpses -- does she make you bleach it, by the way? Is that part of the religion, or do you just want to be like mommy?”

And god, the look on his face at that, like Sister Hannah wouldn’t need to lift a finger to make him disappear, not if he kept talking.

Unfortunately, not knowing when to shut up was one of the many reasons Kevin’s life had taken the nosedive it had. “Hey, this girl from high school works at one of the camps on the lake. Used to be pretty good friends, back before . . . you know.” And again he waved an arm around them, less controlled this time. “Don’t remember her name, but I see her around. Got big purple eyes, kinda cute, few years younger than me. Not that you can tell -- it’s not like I’ve aged pretty,” he added. He felt strangely drunk; it’d been a long time since he’d felt anything resembling this kind of sickening, brain-freezing fear, and he had a suspicion he wasn’t handling it very well. “If you end up seeing her, tell her Dirty Kevin says hi. And that he’s real sorry about all the dead she’s gonna be, but odds are I’ll already be in hell.”

Daniel scrambled to his feet, holding out his hands like Kevin was flinging a gun around. “What are you talking about? I’m not going to hurt you!”

“Oh yeah?” he cried, aware that he needed to drop his voice before one of his neighbors called the cops but unable to translate that information into action. (And fuck, if they called the police it’d save him a phone call, right? Because that was what a sane person would do, and Dirty Kevin was a lot of things but he straight-up fucking refused to be crazy.) “What if Xemüg tells you to, huh?”

“We don’t worship Xemüg, so it wouldn’t matter if -- that’s not the point!” he snarled, taking a step forward; Kevin immediately sank further into his chair, pressing back against it like the pot-reeking cushions would absorb him. “In the name of the Ancients -- why don’t you just see, then? Come to the ceremony and admit that this -- all of this -- is ludicrous!”

“Fine!”

The shout startled them both into silence, and for a few long seconds they just stared at each other, wide-eyed and breathing hard.

This is an excellent way to get yourself killed, Kev.

He gulped for air, wishing he still had his inhaler from high school. “Fine,” he said again, quieter and surprisingly calm. “Didn’t think they’d let you bring a date, but what the hell. Maybe I can sweet-talk Sister Hannah into making me one of those Acolytes you were talking about.”

His father was absolutely right: he had the brains of a goddamn chipmunk, without any of the self-preservation instinct. But fuck, maybe he could stop a mass homicide, be the town hero. He could use the goodwill, considering the legal trouble he occasionally found himself in. He’d be like some kind of vigilante criminal, like Batman without the money or the costume or the abs.

Who was he kidding?

He’d just signed his death warrant.

#campcamp #camp camp roosterteeth #kevdan #cc daniel #cc kevin #cc dirty kevin #forestwriting #you know how someone whose writing you really admire has this gorgeous little flourish you've never tried before?#and you're so fucking jazzed about it that you have to copy it #but theirs is so effective because they use it minimally #while you just fucking t h r o w it in everywhere like a drunk toddler because you're too excited about your discovery #so it has none of the same effect #and just makes your writing look suddenly really weird and pretentious #but you can't stop #because you love it too much and have no impulse control?#anyone else know that feeling?#tl;dr yes i stole those parentheses fragments and love of italics from set #but they do them so much better #listen i'll get there someday #or this will ruin my writing like my love of run-on sentences has #only time will tell

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achillieus · 4 years ago

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let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, sebastian desperately needs to hug the reader, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning

(pinterest inspired board)

part: 1/6

(other parts) (masterlist)

The day it happened, it wasn't a significant meeting at all, you barely even talked. In fact, when he opened the door of your neighbor’s flat that day with a beer in his right hand and his hair messy, he didn't have any effect on you. You always knew that living next to a director meant that sooner or later you’d bump into the pretty faces of well-known people. Sure, you didn’t expect them to be Hollywood actors like him, but to say you were starstruck by the man, would be the overstatement of the year.

The building you’ve lived in for the last three years has five floors; you live in the 4th, he lives in the 5th. He’s a quiet person, usually spending his evenings out of his apartment. You’ve talked sometimes, about the weather and the weird lady that lives in the 1st floor. You’ve never told him you find his directing style a little pretentious.

You’ve never been to his place until that annoyingly warm August evening, when you find a white button up shirt on your balcony. You can clearly see more clothing when you look up and you’re certain the item you’re holding belongs to him.

He’s not there though. Instead you find a different face behind the door. Lighter eyes and darker hair. The man in front of you is definitely younger than the director. You don’t bother to notice what he’s wearing.

“Can I help you?” His voice is deeper than you expected. Stronger, with a touch of European accent. The sound of English surprises you at first but soon you realize he must be another foreign coworker that came to visit your neighbor

“No, I just think Argyris dropped this and it ended up on my floor.”

He looks at you and then at the shirt, in your hands.

Then he says “Sure, I’ll take it.”

“Okay.”

Then it ends. He doesn’t even ask your name. You don’t have to ask his. You figure out, as soon as you walk down the stairs, that it’s Sebastian Stan that you just talked to.

And while being a big fan of marvel movies, you think nothing special of him at first. You just wonder how a mostly unknown director from Greece got an actor like Sebastian to come here so they can work together. It makes no sense to you, but you forget it when your phone starts ringing.

It would’ve been easier if you never saw him again, yet you do. You see him trying to understand what the old lady from the first floor is trying to tell him. You already know. The elevator is not working. The next day you see him walking up the stairs.

You exchange a quick hello, how are you and then off you both go.

The same night Argyris invites you to have a drink with them in the terrace. Part of you wants to just stay in bed and binge watch some Sherlock episodes. Part of you already thinks of what to wear.

There are around ten people there when you show up. They’re all sitting down in huge pillows drinking and talking loudly. You don’t know most of them.

You sit next to a blonde girl, across from Sebastian. This time you notice he’s wearing a plain black shirt and holds a glass of whiskey.

You don’t share any direct conversations but you learn that he’s afraid of growing old and that he thinks Taxi Driver is one fucking masterpiece, as he says.

When you mention that you’re probably the least artistic person in the room right now, you hear him laugh.

A curly haired woman starts dancing with him at some point. You decide he’s not a good dancer.

He leaves the same time you do, following you down the stairs.

“I thought you live here.” You say when he doesn’t stop at the floor you expect him to.

“Ah no, I stay at a hotel near the centre.”

He keeps talking about his suite until you reach your door.

You part in a blur, with a short goodbye.

He still doesn’t ask for your name.

It makes you feel genuinely offended.

Two days after, he is the farthest thing from your mind, until you find him sitting in front of your door, his eyes roaming the place with despair. And then he sees you.

“Ah finally you are here.” He starts casually. “Thank god.”

You just nod.

“Argyris told me to wait for him with you. We had a meeting but he got stuck in traffic.”

You give him a look.

“He said you’re always at home so you won’t mind.”

Ouch. Yeah sure, your social life wasn’t something to brag about but for some reason the way Sebastian said it, it sounded like an insult.

“Okay, come in.” You shrug, clearly not feeling comfortable and turn around to unlock the door.

You hear him call your name. You thought he didn’t know.

“Yes?”

He offers you an easy smile. “Thank you.”

Sitting in your couch he’s eyeing the entire room, while you put some groceries in the fridge.

“Argyris says you’re a great girl.” He clears his throat. “But he thinks you’re too quiet for your own good.”

You look at him, your eyes flicking up and down his face.

“And from what I can tell, he’s right.” You hear him laugh.

It felt weird to see him laugh while he was leaning back at your cozy pillow. He had entered your life so suddenly you didn’t even have time to react to it.

“I’m sorry but I barely know you.” Your words are sharp. He sits up.

“Okay then let’s get to know each other, what’s your favorite Disney princess?”

Defeated, you laugh. “Are you kidding me?”

“No, this is an important question.”

You wait for him to crack up but then you remember he’s an actor.

“I don’t know.” You think for a second. “Mulan?”

“Oh my god. Mulan is amazing.” You smile at him. “My favorite is Jasmine, she’s just so badass.”

You share your favorites that day, having almost nothing in common rather than your everlast love for animated movies and buttered popcorn.

When it’s time for him to leave, he stops and looks at you in the eye.

“You should talk more often.”

You stare at him with confusion. “I talk,” you raise your eyebrows. “When I have something to say.”

“Good.” he says, still looking.

Later in the evening, you’re eating some yoghurt when he comes knocking on your door.

He’s different. The white tank top he was wearing this morning is replaced with a dark shirt and his face looks tired. You assume they’ve been working since he went upstairs.

“Hiii”, he says dragging the i, “Am I interrupting anything?”

You desperately want to nod. You want to tell him that you were doing the most exciting thing in the world, before he came but you were never a good liar.

So you just tilt your head and take a step back.

That’s when he enters and is met with some loud rock music blaring from your laptop.

“You like AC/DC?” he asks, almost wide-eyed.

“Well, I can tell it’s them when I hear their stuff.” For the first time that day, he seems to be in loss of words. “Why are you so surprised?”

He sits in the same spot in the couch as earlier and laughs.

“I just didn’t take you for the kind of girl who likes this music.” It’s your turn to laugh.

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Quiet girl who loves animated films and eats kids’ yoghurt” he looks at the carton in your kitchen table, “and also likes metal music? Doesn’t add up.”

“We’ve basically just met; you shouldn’t make assumptions about me.”

“Fair enough.” He sits back, fidgeting with his fingers.

You take some time just looking at him

There was a certain vibe about that man that made you wonder how it’d feel to cruise down a dessert highway in a convertible mustang with him. In the summer. With him wearing that white tank top.

The color of strawberries emerges at your cheeks just at the thought of it.

You wish he doesn’t notice.

You’re glad to find him looking the other way, before he speaks up.

“We’re going out tonight.” His voice is warm now. “Argyris says you should come along, even though I’m quite sure there’s no hardcore music where we’re going.” He laughs again.

I can’t. You almost say. But then anxiety slips away from you and out of sudden you want him to stop being so freaking arrogant, going around and acting like he knows exactly what kind of person you are.

He thinks you’ll say no. You can see it in his eyes.

“Sure, when should I be ready?” you say, surprising both of you.

He looks at you for some time and then trying to hide whatever he was thinking he says the first thing on his mind.

“How old are you?” He sounds pitiful. He knows. He wishes he could hit a wall; with his head.

“Twenty-one.” His eyes scan yours, unsure of what they’re looking for. “Why?”

“No reason.”

He inhales deep.

You try to blink. You’re at a party in a little bar you’ve never been before and a lot of people are wearing black. Alcohol. You can still taste it on the back of your tongue. You don’t remember how you end up pressed against a dark skinned man, but you can tell he smells of cigarettes and despair.

You sway your body to the beat, close your eyes. Breath in. And out. You think the music deafens you for a second but you open your lids and see Sebastian and he’s watching you, unashamed.

He’s not that far, though it feels like it with countless bodies in the way. The music melts. His gaze is almost angelic. Or devious. You can’t really tell.

He’s dancing with that curly haired woman again. You wonder how intimate their relationship is.

The red neon lights make his skin glisten. His muscles move divinely. It makes you think there’s an entire world inside him, his flesh barely keeping it hidden. Out of sudden you get the urge to walk towards him. You want to see him up close under this dim lighting. But you don’t move.

The man that’s groping your waist asks for your name. You tell him you need to flee. He doesn’t understand.

You sit outside with the sweet summer breeze touching your bare arms. The bass of the music in the background syncs with the beating of your heart. You can feel your ribs grow with every breath you take. Until you stop breathing because the door opens and his eyes suffocate you.

You can’t fathom the effect he has on you. He was a pretty face on screen some days ago. But right now he steals distance and stays near you.

You don’t look his way. He doesn’t say a word. Nicotine and smoke surround you as he exhales. His fingers hold the cigarette butt with care.

“Do you want some?”

You turn to look at him.

“I don’t smoke.” He laughs.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want some.”

You want to know if his breath has the taste of sulfur. You want to pretend it’s the alcohol or the loud music that makes your head hurt.

“What’s the best part of being an actor?” The blue in his eyes glows.

There’s silence but he seems to be thinking about it.

“Do you ever feel things too much?” He says, his voice hoarse. “I mean, when you feel something so intensely it becomes a part of who you are.”

You nod. You understand.

“Acting allows you to let go of these feelings,” he starts. “You share the burden with the audience until it becomes light and you can hold it again.”

You look at him, shaking your head.

“I don’t think I could that,” you close your eyes. “I don’t think I could share what I feel so easily.”

He stands up. The wind hits you again.

“A lot people can’t. That’s why everyone is heartbroken,” he takes a breath, “Feelings eat us raw.”

You both go to bed alone that night. Tomorrow there is a hole next to you.

the morning after, search history

(02:45 PM) hangover recovery

(03:00 PM) best food after a hangover

(03:10 PM) sebastian stan

(03:30 PM) sebastian stan girlfriend

(06:00 PM) xanax side effects

You follow him on Instagram. He doesn’t follow you back. You remember he probably gets tons of followers every day and decide not to let it bother you. Instead you study for the exams of the following month.

The subject of your studies doesn’t interest you. Another poor decision you made under pressure. Sometimes you feel as if your life is borrowed from someone else. Sometimes you feel as if you haven’t found your home yet.

Feelings eat us raw.

His girlfriend looks beautiful in the pictures you find online. The media isn’t certain if they’re still together but you like to think so. It makes it easier to avoid him.

But the universe seems to be oblivious to your thoughts and you see him that same day. You’re taking the garbage out and he’s coming down from the top floor. You meet in the elevator.

“I’m glad to see you’re still alive,” his eyes are smiling as he talks “you looked kinda drunk last night.”

You fidget with the hem of the bag you’re holding.

“I wasn’t drunk.” You notice he’s growing some stubble. You’re not sure you like it.

“Whatever you say, doll.” You bite your cheek trying to devour any sign that might give away how his words make you flinch.

He turns his body a little so now you’re facing each other. He’s so pretty. He’s so pretty in a way that doesn’t hurt. You try not to stare at him, but you fail sometimes. You’ve never noticed how slow the elevator moves until you want to get out. You can’t stand being so close to him for much longer.

He’s an arrogant rich actor who loves Disney and smokes a lot, you think. I have no reason to be affected by him.

“Ah! Argyris said we’re leaving for the weekend.” You eye him curiously. “He wants to show us some small villages in the south. He thinks we should get to know the country a little more before we start.”

You’re stunned by your neighbor’s dedication to his work. Sometimes you wish you had something you could be passionate about too. Sometimes you think you’re never going to find it.

“That’s great. I’m sure you’ll like it.” You give him a smile.

He leans his back at the wall. The elevator stops. Finally.

“I like your eyes.” You grab tight onto the bag. “But they don’t smile when you do.”

He opens the door and he’s gone.

They tell you that it’s fun to meet a famous person. They tell you, you can ask for a photo and a hug. They tell you celebrities don’t talk a lot but that doesn’t mean they’re rude.

But he’s not like that.

He’s fire. He’s burning heat and scorching flames. His words are his thoughts; raw. You don’t like it.

late night search history

(00:38 AM) blue valentine movie soundtrack

(01:15 AM) is sebastian stan a bad person

(01:30 AM) acting classes for amateurs

(01:50 AM) cheap leather boots

(02:10 AM) sebastian stan eyes

You find it annoying; how he’s present even when you’re alone.

Thankfully he’s leaving for the weekend, you think.

The weekend, however, is two days away.

You think you can get away without seeing him. And you do. Until it’s late at night again. And they’re all upstairs with music so loud you’re certain the lady on the first floor is going to be rude about it in the morning.

The music tempo has you unaffected. All you think about is if he’s dancing with that woman again.

He’s such a bad dancer, he should not be dancing.

There’s a subtle knock on your door. You know it’s him. You hope you’re wrong.

“Do you feel like dancing?” His face is all flustered. It’s a good look on him.

“You can’t come knocking on my door at 2 AM and ask me to dance.” His gaze is filled with confusion.

“So you don’t feel like dancing?” You roll your eyes. He notices.

“That’s not the point Sebastian.” It’s the first time you call him by his name. You let it slip away slowly, testing the way it sounds coming out of your mouth.

He takes a step closer. You are suddenly aware of your pyjama shorts and your exposed skin.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to irritate you.” His eyes are the cliché blue of the sky. “I just thought you might want to dance, that’s all.”

Suddenly you feel guilty and embarrassed. He’s oblivious to it.

For a moment you feel his eyes linger on you. It feels surreal.

You nod at him.

He’s ready to say something when Argyris comes down the stairs, his shirt slightly unbuttoned.

“Ah man, I thought you got lost or something.” You lower your eyes. “Stop messing with the poor girl. People are looking for you.”

He throws a smile at you and Sebastian takes a quick breath.

“People are always looking for me.”

He gives away that he’s carrying a burden. Your expression softens. But then you look at Argyris and you see he doesn’t really pay attention to these words.

You share a quick look before you’re there standing alone at your doorstep, trying to grasp the idea of him.

When you wake up you feel like running. You can’t fathom where the feeling comes from but it starts like a liquid running down your veins and soon you can’t stay in bed even for a second.

Feelings eat us raw. Only if you let them.

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged in this six part story :)

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan imagine #monday the movie #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #letyoudown

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plaidbooks · 3 years ago

Text

Dark Secrets: New Beginnings

A/N: This is the first installment of the Vampire!Sonny x reader fic. This chapter is only setting the stage; next chapter will be more about the vampire aspect, I promise! This covers the Bookstore square in @adarafaelbarba moodboard bingo!

Tags: mentions of sex

Words: 2233

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @caracalwithchips @berniesilvas @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

You spent hours on the computer compiling resources for your thesis. After years and years, you were finally getting your Ph. D in History…if you could just finish this damned thesis. List complete, you headed to the local bookstore; you always checked them first before going online, since they were cheaper.

You were intimately familiar with the bookstore; you went there often. And you had double and triple checked online that they had these books. You had a small basket, four books in it, while you looked for the fifth and final book you needed. But its spot on the shelf stood vacant; a perfect hole where it should be.

Shaking your head slightly, you started to search the shelves around it, in case someone didn’t put it back correctly. But you were coming up empty. And this was the book that you needed to buy here; the shop had it for $20, while online was a couple hundred.

“Looking for Making the Revolution: America, 1763-1791?” a voice asked from behind you.

You turned to find a pale, lanky, attractive man, his hair slicked back, his bright blue eyes watching you intently. He was sitting at a table, open book in his hand. Seeing the cover, you knew it was the book you needed.

“I am, yes. Were you intending to buy it?” you questioned, praying he said no.

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “I was debating it. Why, do you want it?”

“I do; I need it for my thesis. If you let me buy it, I promise to give it to you when I’m done, free of charge.” At this point, you were just desperate for that book.

His eyes seemed to bore into you as he thought about your proposal. Finally, he smiled, saying, “I think that’s a noble reason to buy this book. You’ve got yourself a deal.” He held the book out to you, and you gently took it from him.

“Thank you so, so much. You don’t know how much this helps me,” you said, placing the book in your basket.

He held a hand up. “No problem. There’s a lot of inaccuracies in that text, anyways.”

You blinked in surprise. “There are?”

“Oh yes. For one, it perpetuates the idea that Christopher Columbus came here to ‘escape tyranny’ in England, which is a load of crap, if I’m honest.”

You took a step closer to the strange man. “Do you have a source on that?”

He thought about it, chuckling to himself about something, before he answered. “Well, I am in the process of transcribing a manuscript from the man himself. But it hasn’t been published quite yet, so I doubt it’ll be of use to you for your thesis.”

“Wh—who are you?” you asked in awe.

He held a hand out for you to shake. “Dr. Dominick Carisi Jr., but you, my dear, may call me Sonny.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and you quickly shook his hand. “Dr. Carisi? Oh my god! I’ve been reading your work in class; I loved your thesis on slavery!” You had never seen a picture of him, had no idea he was so young; he was about your age. You had expected him to be an old man, at least in his 80s, not this attractive man in his early 40s at most.

He barked out a laugh. “You’ve really been reading my work? I’m flattered. I didn’t think anyone put stock in my texts.” While it was true he was a world renowned historian, his work was seen as highly controversial. He had a knack for citing manuscripts and journal entries, things that no one had discovered before he brought them to the limelight. But every authenticator had proven that the writings were from the time period. And that was enough for you.

“Please, sir, er, Doctor. Could I spend a day with you, pick your brain for my thesis? I’ll—I’ll buy the drinks and food, just…please?” you asked, suddenly embarrassed.

But Sonny’s smile grew. “I’d like that. But only if you call me Sonny. If you’re doing your thesis, then I assume you’re almost done with your doctorate?” You nodded, and he continued, “then in my eyes, we’re equals, and you don’t need to call me ‘Doctor’.”

Your heart beat a little faster when he called you equals. “Thank you so much Doc—Sonny. Does the coffeeshop next door work for you?”

“It does. And I’m free all week, whenever you need me.”

“How about tomorrow morning? I don’t have class until 3pm; I hope that’s enough time to chat.”

He gave you that heart melting smile once more. “Sounds good. See you tomorrow.” Then he took your hand and kissed it. As he walked away, your knees felt weak. You were infatuated within five minutes of talking to him.

**********************

Sonny turned out to be an incredible source of information. Plus, he brought books that he thought would help you, letting you borrow what you needed. And, like yesterday, you found yourself completely enamored with him. He didn’t have a ring on, so you assumed him unmarried, but you didn’t know how to bring it up without being weird. Sure, you were close in age, but he was done with school, became a published historian, while you were still finishing up college. But he never talked down to you; on the contrary, he seemed highly interested in what you had to say.

Like before, you had been nervous—star-struck, really—when you met up with him. But as the hours ticked by, you found yourself more and more comfortable with him. He was highly intelligent, especially about history. You had found it hard to find someone who was as interested in history as you were, without sounding like a pretentious asshole. But Sonny checked all those boxes for you. You were just unsure if he felt the same.

“When is your thesis due? I feel like it’s still early in the academic year,” he asked.

You cleared your throat. “It is; I still have months and months to work on it. It’s due next year, but I want it to be perfect, you know?”

“I do, I do,” he agreed, nodding. “I hope you’re taking some time off, though, as well. Don’t let this paper take up your whole life; you should be out, appreciating everything this life has to give you. Don’t get stuck in the past.”

You looked at the table, letting his words soak in. It was like he had looked right through you; for the past month or so, you’ve been deep in your studies. You had friends, sure, but you hardly saw them. And you’d given up on dating until after you finished college, anyways. But maybe Sonny was on to something. You should seize the day, capture every moment in memories.

“Would you like to get dinner with me, Sonny?” you asked, trying to sound as confident as possible.

It was his turn to look surprised. “Oh, uh…sorry, you caught me off guard. In all my years, no one has ever asked me out; it’s usually the other way around.”

You chuckled. “You’re not much older than me,” you joked, and he smiled. “Maybe it’s time for something new. For both of us…that is, if you want?”

“I’d love to go to dinner with you,” he said, and your heart soared.

When it was getting close to 3, you bade him goodbye, and he told you he would be eagerly awaiting your dinner date. You felt your face heat at the words, and you swore your face never cooled off for the rest of the day.

*********************

That date with Doctor Carisi turned out to be the best decision of your life. You both felt the spark between you, and you said yes to a second date before he even finished asking. Now, it’s been ten months of loving bliss between you. You completed your thesis, got your doctorate, and Sonny couldn’t be more proud of you. And you learned that while he was a historian, he was also a detective. He said he wanted to help people now, by giving them both access to history material, and by putting absolute monsters away.

But there were little things with him, quirks, really. Though you’ve been to his place, and he yours, he never made a move to get you into bed. Sure, you’ve kissed—and sometimes this escalated to a full-blown make out session—but he didn’t seem interested in sex.

He also didn’t seem interested in moving in together…or a future at all, really. Whenever you tried to bring it up, he would just nod along with you, agreeing to whatever you said and adding on a lot of “one day’s”.

He had no family for you to meet, and yours didn’t live close. You noticed he also didn’t eat or drink much; he loved to make you dinner, and he would say that he snacked while cooking. And then, about once a month, he’d leave for 3-4 days, claiming he wanted to be alone to work on the manuscript.

You gave him as much space as he asked for, and though you still loved him dearly, you were starting to wonder if there was something wrong with you…or if it was just something he was having issues with.

“Hey Sonny?” you asked one day while snuggling on the couch at your place. “Are we okay?”

He glanced down at you. “As far as I know, yes? Why, something on your mind?”

“Well…I was just thinking about how we’ve been together almost a year and we still haven’t moved in together,” you tried.

He looked to the ceiling as he thought. “Wow, I guess it really has been that long now, hasn’t it? I feel like I just met you yesterday.”

“So, are we not connecting on a deeper level, then?” You sat up, turning to look at him.

His bright blue eyes found yours, and his expression softened. “That’s not what I meant; I’m sorry it came out like that. Time just…it moves so quickly is all. Look, I love you, I just—I don’t think I’m quite ready to make that jump yet. I’m sorry; I know this must be frustrating, but I promise you one day, I’ll…I’ll be ready.”

You nodded. “I love you too, I just….”

“What is it? You can tell me—”

“Why won’t you sleep with me?” you asked softly. His eyes widened, and you quickly added, “are—are you ace? It’s fine if you are, I understand, but I just…I feel like it’s something wrong with me, and I—”

He cupped your face in his hands, looking deeply in your eyes. “No, it’s nothing wrong with you, I promise. I’m just…I’m not ready—”

“I have urges, Sonny. And I love you, want to wait for you. But it’s been almost a year. I—I don’t believe a healthy relationship is built on sex, but well, it’d be nice to have every once in a while….”

He sighed, releasing your face. “It’s not that I don’t want to, because I do. I just want to be absolutely sure I’m ready. Call it shyness, or embarrassment, whatever you want. But I want to make sure that—that you’re the one for me, first, okay?”

You opened your mouth to respond when his phone rang. He gave you an apologetic look before answering with his stiff, “Carisi.” He mostly listened, making little noises of affirmation, before hanging up.

“I’m so, so sorry, doll. But the department needs me. I swear we’ll talk about this once I’m home, okay?” he promised, getting to his feet.

He grabbed his jacket, heading for the front door. “Sonny wait,” you called, and he stopped, looking back at you. You hurried over to him, looking up into those beautiful blues. “Be careful.”

He smiled softly. “I will be; promise.” He gave you a kiss, and then he was gone.

********************

You didn’t hear from Sonny again until the next morning, when he showed up on your front door, breakfast in hand. He apologized for leaving you last night during that important talk, but you brushed it off, telling him it was fine.

“That’s not all I have to apologize for,” he said, looking anywhere but at you. “I’m…going undercover. I’ll be gone for three months.”

Your face fell, and you put your fingers under his chin, tilting his face until he looked at you. “Three months?” you breathed.

“I’m sorry; I tried to decline, but the Lieutenant gave her orders. I leave in an hour.”

“Three months…” you said again, worry blossoming in your chest. This was the longest he’d be gone since you started dating.

He nodded. “I’ll text or call when I can, but don’t expect it; it may be too dangerous.”

You’d heard enough; you lifted onto your tiptoes, kissing him desperately. Your hands went to his hair, and you pulled him close, all your fear and trepidation in the kiss. He froze for only a moment before he was kissing you back, hands on your hips. He clutched you tightly enough that you gasped in pain, and he pulled away, releasing you.

“I’m sorry. I love you,” he muttered before turning to leave, but you had a suspicion that he wasn’t apologizing for leaving.

#sonny carisi x reader #fanfic #my writing #dark secrets #monster!au #adarafaelbarbaseptemberbingo

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thedemonstherapist · 4 years ago

Text

Tension Solution

Summary: “I think this tension between us needs resolving. Be that with swords against each other’s necks or in my bed. You decide”.

Wordcount: ~4,2K

Pairing: Kaeya Alberich x GN! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Enemies to Lovers, Sexual innuendos, Small mentions of blood

Author’s Note: Here it is! My Kaeya enemies to fuckers piece. A huge thank you to @gnocchi-ghoul for Beta reading this for me! I had such fun writing this, and you all know I’m a sucker for some good tensioned sworfighting, and this smug bastard has been on my mind ever since starting to play the game. I know this is not my usual content, but I write when I want, about who I want, ok? I’ve had so little inspiration over the past months that I’ve got to take chances like these and go with them.

Banner is not mine! If you know who to credit it to, let me know, I couldn’t find it!

There he came again. That stupid coin between his fingers, flung into the air at random intervals. That stupid grin softening his face, cheerful greetings echoing through the noisy hall. Oh, and above all, that tremendously stupid way his eyes find you immediately, just trying to do your work.

You lower your gaze, pressing your pen down onto paper with renewed determination. Jean and her new open doors policy be damned, you couldn’t wait to slam it in his face. Of course it’s the last few minutes of visiting hours that he decides to come back from his commission. Three blissful weeks of calm while he was stationed out near the Liyue border, no comments, no irksome remarks, no-

“Don’t tell me you’re too busy to greet me”.

You sigh. Kaeya observes you with his arms crossed, casually lent against the doorframe. His sword is still strapped to his back, droplets of water running down the blade, and he clearly hasn’t gone to take a shower yet, covered in dirt, mud and sporadic dried blood.

“Captain”. You can’t help your displeasured tone. “I see you’re back”.

“Inspector”. He raises a brow in retaliation. “I sent a notice stating my return three days ago”.

“Oh, that”. You pick the unintelligible letter from your desk with two fingers, holding it at an arm’s length. “Apparently your messenger didn't go for a swim on the way here. Could you confirm?”

His jaw tightens momentarily, as you note with satisfaction, but it doesn’t deter the grin. “You should be used to my handwriting by now”.

You place it back on your desk with contempt. “I am not. Hopefully your report to Jean is a little more… readable”.

He shrugs, beginning to peel off his gloves. “She’s never complained about it”.

Taking a deep breath, you try to calm yourself down. Kaeya tends to make you irrationally angry, and no, it wasn’t just the absolute nonchalante recklessness he treated his position and commissions with. You couldn’t count the times he’d risked more than his own life in battle, somehow always managing to pull it off in the last second. And of course, that was his surefire way to getting out of trouble, no matter how much Jean grilled him for it afterwards.

“Go clean up”. You try your best to make your dismissal abundant, leaning back over your work. “You’re dripping water on my carpet”.

“Oh, we’re touchy today, aren’t we?” Kaeya’s grin widens into a smirk, pushing himself off the frame. “Did Fawks hit on you during your patrols again?”

“That’s none of your business”. You shoot him a glare, tapping your nails impatiently. As if you still had the opportunity to go out on patrols, you’d been holed up in your office pretty much ever since becoming Inspector. You wished you could get out again, your body had been aching for some action for weeks, but he was the last person you’d ever confess that to.

Kaeya hums lightly, and instead of exiting, takes another step into the office. His eyes wandered your shelves with staged disinterest, but you knew he was looking for something to use as ammunition.

“I’m assuming you couldn’t hear me” you state, sarcasm adding a bite to your tone. “I told you to clean up. You look like you haven’t seen soap since leaving Mondstadt”.

“Oh, Y/N, always so worried about my appearance” he muses, drawing closer to your desk. God, you hated that stupid cat-like expression he bore, so sly and pretentious. “I’d be more worried about yourself, frankly”.

“I’m not playing these games, Kaeya”, you reply sharply, fingers tightening around your pen. “Go take a damn shower, and stop ruining my carpet. I don’t know why your immediate goal seems to piss me off, but I’d like to maintain some level of professional dignity between us”.

He rolls his eyes. “By Barbatos, you really are wound up today. I doubt that’s just my fault”.

“Be delusional, then”. You shake your head. “I don’t think Jean would appreciate another formal complaint, so do her the favour, if not for me, and get out of my office”.

“Fine”. He turns around, but not before throwing you another glance, and damn it, you know he has one last trick up his sleeve, just by the way he says it. “However, before I forget-”.

“What?”

“You’re pre-reading my report for Jean. Her orders”.

---

“... and that bastard didn't even take the time to brief me about the mission outcome, the entire time he was dirtying up my office!” You end your rant with an angry flourish, slamming your hand down on the table. “I don’t know what he intended with that whole interaction, he just likes making my day so much worse!”

Your friend chuckles, stirring her drink idly, an ocean of calm in comparison to your raging fury. “Man, if we weren’t close, I would never guess Kaeya to be such a pain in the ass. Each time I’ve encountered him he’s been so chivalrous and kind”.

“He just can’t keep it in his pants”. You cross your arms, sitting back in your chair with a huff. “If you ever end up in his bed, I will personally hunt him down”.

She laughs. “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t put you in that position”.

“I just don’t understand it”. You run a hand through your hair, glancing around the tavern. It was unusually crowded for a Thursday night, you’d been lucky to get your usual table. “Why he has this stupid grudge against me. We used to be normal colleagues, back when we were both only trainee’s and officers, but then one day the switch flipped and it��s like we can’t stand the sight of each other ever since. The worst thing is, he has every last person in Mondstadt wrapped around his finger! So nobody understands my frustration!”

“First of all, Diluc exists. Second of all, aren’t you higher ranking than him?” she asks, and you regretfully shake your head.

“No, Captains and Inspectors are on the same level. I personally didn't feel ready to be a leader in combat situations, so I passed on the opportunity. Now I miss active commissions so much, my poor sword is nothing more than an ancient relic at this point”.

“Surely, you’ll still be sent out?”

“I don’t have a command, the only times I might be are on extraordinarily dangerous or sizable sightings, or for assistance to Captains. Rue the day I get sent out with Kaeya”. You shudder at the thought. “That would end in total disaster”.

“So you really have no idea why Kaeya began to dislike you so suddenly?” your friend inquires, tilting her head aside. You shake yours. “And there wasn’t some kind of incident that caused this?”

“Not that I know of”.

A grin spreads over her face. “Hey, you ever considered that he likes you a little too much for his own good?”

“That’s some misogynistic bullshit”, you snort. “Guys are rude to people because they like them, yeah right. That’s just trying to normalise shitty behaviour in the name of quote-on-quote love”.

“I know that”. She gives you an exasperated look. “But… you have to admit that the two of you have some serious chemistry”.

“What are you even talking about?” you question, downing the rest of your drink.

“Every time you two interact”. She raises a brow knowingly. “Remember that time you were bickering on patrol through Mondstadt? I swear, even without a vision, I could see sparks between the two of you, and I wasn’t the only one, you got the entire town talking. You get on each other’s nerves because you have some unresolved tension you need to work out, and neither of you wants to admit it”.

“Shut up”. Your cheeks suddenly feel suspiciously warm, and you firmly decide it’s the alcohol. “Fine, Kaeya’s attractive, but he’s so fucking annoying because he knows that. He messes with me ‘cause he knows how to get in my head, and gets some kind of sadistic pleasure from it”.

Your friend makes an attempt to interrupt you, but you don’t let her, motioning to her to let you rant. “Let me finish. He was nice enough up until he got that damn ego boost after being promoted, I think, and even then I could still talk to him without the need to stab myself in the eye. He’s just so frustrating, never thinks twice about anything he does, and always gets away with it, plus he has this weird urge to always show off that stupidly toned chest of his and - by the Seven, I hate that idiot smirk of his, and the fact that he’s so damn perfect at his swordsmanship, I can’t even deny how good he is in battle, Jean has said he rivals her, and I despise that he knows he looks good while doing it, he-”

“So, how much longer were you going to let them just talk?” A voice offhandedly asks from behind you, and the blood in your veins turns to ice. Your friend smiles lazily, winking at you.

“Oh, you know, however long they need. Y/N’s been ranting quite a bit this evening, you really get on their nerves”.

You whip around, and sure enough, there he is, the cause of this mess. Kaeya has his arms folded, grinning down at you with thinly veiled satisfaction. You’re pretty sure half of the tavern is watching, and your blood turns from freezing to seething within seconds.

“How long have you been there?” you ask stiffly, glaring at your friend. She pulls an innocent face, leaning back in her seat with performative disinterest. Traitor.

“Just long enough to hear what I needed to”. Kaeya’s grin is threatening to split his face in half. “You really think I’m that attractive, huh? I never would have guessed”.

You jump up from your chair, spitting out the first thing that comes to mind. “Fight me”.

He actually laughs, a few of the tavern occupants joining in. “What? Are you sure you’re not mixing up a couple words there?”

You clench your jaw, deciding to just go with it. “Fight me. Knights of Favonius training ring, tomorrow morning. I’m sick of your attitude”.

“Oh?” He cocks a brow at you. “I hope you’re ready after wasting away in that office of yours”.

“I could beat you blindfolded”, you reply presumptuously, mimicking his stance, unable to ignore the fact that he smells a little too good for your tipsy state. At least he finally took your orders. You hold his stare regardless, unwilling to give in.

“Thank the Seven, you’re working this out at last”, your friend sighs, sipping at her drink. “And here I thought you’d take the sexual tension to the grave”.

Kaeya’s lip twitches in amusement as he extends one hand. “Tomorrow morning at seven. I’ll try not to kill you then, for that sake alone”.

You give him a dirty look, reluctantly shaking his hand. “Your chance of me doing the same is decreasing with every word that leaves your mouth”.

“I can live with that”. He suddenly leans closer, and before you can pull away, whispers in your ear, sultry tone leaving the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. “You’re going down, darling”.

Like Hell you are.

---

The training hall is usually relatively empty at this time of day. Some dedicated trainee’s use the morning to get their routine over, but otherwise, not many knights exercise this early. And though at least a few of them must have heard of what happened last night, not many are to be seen. Even if you could live with an audience, you decide this way is perfectly fine, especially in case of the (distinctly undesirable and should-be-impossible outcome) of you losing to him. You’re a bit out of breath from warming up, fixing your shirt before making your way over to the ring.

Kaeya is waiting for you there, clad in athleisure and in the midst of testing out a beginner’s sword. His vision is nowhere to be seen, and you curse him a little for not giving you something more to berate him for. Nevertheless, you straighten up as you approach.

“Good morning”, you greet him nonchalantly, walking over to inspect the racks of weapons.

A grin flashes across his face as he turns around, wiping the sweat off his brow. “Hello, darling”.

“Sweating already?” You raise a brow at him, deciding to ignore the nickname. “And here I thought I’d have a challenge”.

Kaeya laughs, rolling out his wrist. “You are cute when you’re acting tough”. Tilting his head aside, he watches you take your pick of one of the swords. The morning light bathes him in a soft glow, falling through the high windows, hair tied up in a messy bun at the back of his head, and- wait. Your cheeks grow hot as you realise what absurd directions your thoughts are heading to. Your friend must have gotten under your skin more than you realised last night.

Shaking your head a little, you roll your shoulders back and face him head-on. “Whatever makes you feel better. For the rules, as by training code, drawing blood is an immediate end”.

“No visions, no hits near the head or vital organs, dull blades and stop means stop”, Kaeya counts up calmly, making his way to the center of the ring. His blue eye gleams playfully in the light, and he swings the sword near aimlessly while walking. You grit your teeth at his relaxed manner. He wasn’t taking this seriously at all, huh?

“Don’t worry, Inspector”. He winks as he comes to a halt before you, maintaining the mandated arm’s distance. “I know the rules”.

“I’d hope so”, you reply, getting into position and watching him do the same. You decide to stir the pot a little, knowing it’s best to get into his head, and feign a smile. “I can’t wait until the rest of the knights hear about how royally I kicked your ass”.

He laughs lowly, and is immediately on the attack. Anticipating such, after years of observing him in battle, you parry it easily, ducking aside to avoid the next one. You wait until he’s nearly backed you into the corner, ego visibly growing with every move he makes, and take a rolling dive, knocking his legs out from under him with your own.

He manages to catch himself, and you’re relieved by the split-second of surprise in his expression. You withdraw towards the middle, blowing a stray strand of hair out of your face and, in a rush of adrenalin, smirk at him. “Not so confident now, are we, Captain?”

“You’re not as out of shape as I anticipated”, he counters, slashing his sword through the air as he repositions himself. Brows narrowing playfully, he adds: “It’ll make it more fun to thoroughly take you apart”.

You don’t give him more time to prepare. Blades crash onto each other as he masterfully deflects your attacks, and it doesn’t take long for the two of you to get out of breath. Neither of you can land a hit, no matter how feasible it seems. He handles the comparatively bulky sword with enviable ease, and you grow frustrated quickly, unable to break through his defences. In turn, you don’t let him back you into any corner, constantly keeping the playing field level and returning every new strike with your own.

“You know what, I’ve missed this”, Kaeya pants, quick to switch hands as you sidestep him, attempting to land a hit on his blinde side.

“Huh?” is all you can answer in return, deflecting his counter aimed at your back, and darting aside.

“Training”. He nearly misses the parry, forced to back up if not to risk a blow to his abdomen. “With you”. He shoots you a brash smile, easily twisting out of your range.

You huff, irritated at the fact that he still has the mind to flirt. “Your silver tongue isn’t getting you out of this one”.

“I meant it”. And of damn course, his tactic worked, the point of his blade sinking into your shoulder. “Remember when we used to practise together?”

“Before you became a dick, you mean?” you shoot back, attempting an aggressive strike at his lower thigh. Your body is getting sore, heart pounding against your ribcage, breaths coming out short and strained, but despite it all, you’re enjoying this. In any case, you’d rather die than admit to him that you’re having fun.

You really needed to get out of your office more.

Kaeya laughs, equally exhausted, before advancing at an alarming speed. “I’ll give you that one, darling”.

Your blades cross, metal clashing loudly, and you can see an opportunity form as he shortly weakens his hold. Rotating your sword in the opposite direction to try and hook beneath his, you’re so distracted by the possibility of disarming him that you don’t notice the satisfaction that washes over his expression as you do. One swift swipe of his foot and you’re falling backwards, weapon nearly ripped from your hand.

Your back hits the mat with full force, air knocked out of your lungs, causing you to give a strangled gasp. Kaeya is smirking down at you, but he’s as out of breath as you are and there’s sweat soaking his shoulders. You don’t think before you move, so infuriated by the words you know are about to leave his mouth, fingers tightening around the handle.

The hit against his shins sends him to the ground, but not sideways as planned, instead straight onto you. You don’t have the time or the mind to roll out of the way, and he tries very hard to catch himself, hands landing on either side of you. You yelp as most of his weight hits you, momentarily forgetting what’s even happening.

“Fuck”, Kaeya groans, arms shaking as he tries to brace himself. “You like playing dirty, don’t you?”

Slowly regaining the ability to breathe after nearly being crushed, your eyes dart to see him dangling over you, legs and lower body resting on your own. If anyone hears of this out of context, you’re moving to the other end of Teyvat. He’s panting, no doubt as shocked as you are, strands of his hair tickling your nose. His face is mere inches away from yours, heat seeping through his clothes onto your skin.

Decidedly too close.

Your blade kissing his throat is a much better sight. You know you’re technically breaking the rules, but the way his eye widens, corners of his mouth twitching and brows raising to the sky is just too good of a picture.

“Get off me”. You growl, trying to steady yourself with your other hand.

His laugh sounds astounded, but contrary to your demand, he does not. Instead, his chin juts forward, pressing the metal into his skin for earnest. There’s no blood, of course, all these swords are dulled to near uselessness, but it does leave you speechless at the amount of reckless pride he seems to possess.

Kaeya hums, clearly satisfied at your reaction. “I’ll be honest, this is not how I initially pictured you under me”.

What a smug son of a-

“Oh, fuck off”. Your knee makes contact with his stomach and he rolls off you with a grunt. You scramble to your feet, grimacing at what you're sure will be a bruised tailbone later. He’s already composed himself, twirling his sword idly as you get a proper grip on your own. Looking you up and down, his grin widens into a smirk.

“Though you do look similar to the imaginary aftermath”.

“I am going to kill you”, you hiss, red flashing before your eyes as you charge at him. Kaeya begins to laugh once more, but it quickly dies down as your moves become more and more aggressive, driving him out of the ring and towards the wall. The thought of whoever may be around again crosses your mind, but honestly, you can’t care about who may be watching, every last bit of strength you have left is focused on Kaeya and his stupid fucking face and the way he evades your strikes with a precision that only leaves to be desired to every onlooker. It makes you want to actually scream. You finally land two hits on him, arms beginning to shake from exhaustion and overwhelming adrenalin.

But once more, Kaeya catches you off guard. The switch flips just as his leg hits the wall and you’re just beginning to notice your own smile, sure of your victory. His expression darkens, lip caught in his teeth as his eyes narrow down at you.

Your blades clash as they did before, and of course he uses your own move against you, managing to perfect it. Your sword goes flying to the ground, and the moment you lose your grip is the moment you’re being slammed against the wall that he was nearly backed up against mere seconds ago. The tip of his sword is digging into the soft skin of your throat, positioned perfectly above your Adam's apple.

Suddenly, it goes very quiet, the silence only interrupted by your laboured breaths. Maybe it’s the fact that he near literally has a knife to your throat, but you can’t tear your eyes away from him. His hand is pressing on your shoulder, pinning you to the wall, keeping you in place. His leg is slotted between yours, barring you from moving an inch.

For the first time since you’ve met him, you have nothing to do but to admire him. Sweat is making his hair stick to his skin, an exhausted flush upon his dark cheeks. His body is visibly tense, stare boring into yours with a kind of intensity you’ve only ever seen during active combat. There’s nothing unintentional about the way he’s restraining you, nothing hesitant about the placement of the blade against your skin. His chest is heaving, teeth digging into his lip in constrained effort, fingers digging into your shoulder as if expecting you to fight back.

You don’t.

Instead, you let out a shaky breath. The adrenalin is still surging through you, but you can’t feel the constant urge to punch him in the gut anymore. Huh. Weird.

“You won”. Your voice is calmer than it ever has been talking to him, accepting of your defeat. Plus, your body is beginning to realise that whatever just happened hurt, and quite a bit at that. You wince, knowing you’re going to need some ice to get through the rest of the day.

Kaeya shakes his head determinedly, stare not wavering. “You had me in practically the same position less than a minute ago. You could have flipped me over with ease and won. You didn't. That’s the only reason I got you here”. His grip on your shoulder eases up. “We’re equal”.

Withdrawing the sword from your neck, he takes a step back, relinquishing his hold on you. You feel strangely dazed, automatically reaching to check for cuts on your neck. “I guess?”

“You okay?” He sounds relatively quiet as well, nearly uneasy, which does not fit the overconfident persona he usually bears. Whatever tension there was before has yielded to something more cautious, like strangers navigating their way across broken ice.

You nod, reaching to pick up your sword. “Fine”. You pause briefly, debating your words before meeting his eye again. “That was… good exercise. Thanks for fighting me”.

He laughs a little, and you’re taken aback by how much you don’t feel like reacting. What was going on? At the latest after that laugh you’d usually be back at his throat.

“Sure”. There’s the typical amusement in his face, but his smile is less egregious and smug. It’s… kind? “I’d have no problem repeating it”.

You raise your shoulders, unsure of what to do now. “I guess… I wouldn’t either?”

“Good”. He runs a hand through his hair in an effort to fix the mess it’s become. You’re beginning to hear the confidence you’re used to re-enter his words, but it doesn’t appear to bother you. “Friday’s at seven, then. We’ll make it a regular thing”.

“Trying to kill each other?” You surprise yourself with the attempt to ease the tension, and why in the world do you have the urge to smile at the sight of his?

“If that’s how you want to see it”. He shrugs, placing his sword back on the racks. Glancing over his shoulder, he regards you for a long moment. “I think your friend is right”.

“In what regard?” you ask, in principle fully aware of what that expression means for you.

Kaeya’s shit-eating grin has made its way back onto his face. “I think this tension needs resolving. Whatever means it takes”.

You can hear the words in your head before he says them.

“Be that with swords against each other’s necks or in my bed. You decide”.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanficion #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact kaeya #genshin kaeya #kaeya alberich #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich fanfic #kaeya fanfiction #hope you enjoyed <3

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aminiatureworld · 3 years ago

Text

Debris

Characters: Jaehee, Yoosung, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,755

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: In which Rika’s apartment blows up and the reader’s s/o evaluates their emotions.

Author’s Note: I haven’t played Yoosung’s and Jaehee’s routes in about a year so this probably won’t be too canon compliant. That being said it felt great to get back to my fic roots. I Hope y’all enjoyed this nostalgic journey! I especially tried to distinguish their personalities in writing style.

Also, if a whole apartment blew up the building would collapse and most likely everyone inside it and immediately around it would die but we’re going to pretend certain laws of physics and stuff don’t work. Idk maybe Mint Eye used a low explosive like gunpowder.

Jaehee

She hadn’t meant to forget about it, she really hadn’t. It was only, well, life was so complicated at the moment. Work, contemplating what she wanted to do with her life, surely it was enough for one person; even more so for an overworked secretary. Besides, she didn’t want to think about the terrors of the world when she thought of you. Indeed, what did she want to think of when she thought of you?

All these questions swirled around her head. Earlier Jaehee might’ve dismissed such foolish questions. After all, thinking about such things didn’t get meetings done or stop Mr. Han from doing something idiotic again. Jaehee didn’t have the time or the privilege to think about what she wanted in life. It was enough to be here, to have a good paying job and a roof over her head and some semblance of freedom from what she’d left behind.

Maybe it was for that reason that she had forgotten about the apartment situation. Her horizons had already been broadened so much, perhaps there simply wasn’t room for anything else. Even if that anything else included your own safety.

Getting calls from Seven wasn’t necessarily unfamiliar, but nevertheless Jaehee still felt a sense of unease at the number that suddenly appeared right as a company meeting was about to begin. Luciel knew the RFA members’ schedules like the back of his computer, more than the members themselves in the case of Yoosung most likely. Besides, Jaehee had told him this coffee situation was proving to be incredibly important. Why then was he calling her now?

“Luciel, I don’t know what you want, but I have urgent matters to attend to. Could you please call back in about an hour and fifteen minutes?”

“Jaehee, I think you’ll want to hear about this.”

“What, what is it?” Sometimes Seven’s tendency towards cryptic messages was truly too irritating. Still his voice was certainly more agitated than the normal, joking tone that he took. Already Jaehee could feel the familiar tendrils of anxiety.

“You know how I told you guys about the hacker, right?”

“Yes, the one that was trying to get into Rika’s apartment. Didn’t you say that you had taken care of it?”

“That one. Well, I thought I had, or at least, it certainly looked that way. I didn’t, damn, I didn’t think that the bastard would be able to hide what he was doing from me. Who on Earth is that man I don-”

“Luciel, please keep this short.”

“O-oh. I’m sorry. Well, apparently, he wasn’t done. I got a notification, or, well, more like I saw it on the news. The apartment complex, uhm, well, haha…”

“Seven!” Jaehee had the sneaking suspicion she knew what was about to be said. Still a distant part of her brain retained the calm of denial.

“Sorry! I, what I mean to say is, the apartment. The apartment got, set off.”

“Set off?”

“Blew up. Boom. The bomb, I don’t know how, but it was triggered. And now, yeah. The whole block is half covered under rubble, and we don’t, I don’t, have a lot of information about the people inside the apartment. I’m doing the best I can, trying to get into the CCTV footage outside. But, uh, yeah. I thought you should know. Since, y’know, I know that you seemed really close wi-”

Maybe it was unpardonably rude for Jaehee to hang up on Luciel, but in that moment she could think of nothing else to do. It was as if, in letting the line die, she was rewriting time, so that nothing had happened.

Jaehee made it as far as the doors of the conference room before turning around and dashing towards the staircase. Taking the stairs two at a time she didn’t bother to clock out or tell Jumin about what was going on. It wasn’t important after all. How could it be? The explosion, that was what took precedence in her mind. More than work, more than these strange questions, all she could think about was you. She had to find out if you were okay, had to contact you in some ways. If not, if not. If not then what?

“Seven, I need the address to Rika’s apartment.”

“What? No are you crazy? You can’t just go to the place the hacker blew up. Besides, the location is confidential.”

“Not when it’ll be on every television station in Korea. I need to find out if they’re okay.”

“You can’t just go rummaging through wreckage on your own, you won’t even get past the yellow tape. It’s better to wait.”

“I’m going.”

“Wait! At least let me try to call them first, okay?”

“It would be faster if I went.”

“No. No it wouldn’t. Just give me a second. I’m already trying to figure out where their phone is. I’m almost done.”

For once Jaehee didn’t even question the legality, or morality, of Seven’s actions.

As it turns out you had been going grocery shopping – against Seven’s recommendations – and as such were at the tail end of the blast radius. Staring intently at the hospital address Seven had texted her, Jaehee quickly made her way over to the front desk. Having finally messaged Jumin, she made it through the entrance quite easily – sometimes being the secretary to a well-known CEO-to-be paid off.

Your room was in a quieter corner of the hospital, away from the groaning and shrieking of those who hadn’t been as lucky. The bomb had been a small sort of one, made up of a low explosive. Apparently V and Seven’s reservations truly hadn’t been feigned. Perhaps Jaehee should’ve felt grateful that they had made a bomb that was relatively ineffective. In that moment however she couldn’t bring herself to feel relief.

The soft smile that illuminated your face as Jaehee walked into your room was enough to make her heart ache.

“Hey Jaehee. Hope I didn’t cause too much work for you.”

“Work for me? How could you think of something at this time? What about you? Are you too badly hurt? What happened? Is there something I can do for you?”

“Jaehee please! Calm down. I was basically fine. A few cuts and bruises are nothing to worry about.”

“Did they check and see if you inhaled anything? What about your head, did anything hit it?”

“Hey,” you replied softly. Taking Jaehee’s wildly fluttering hands in yours you smiled softly. “Thank you for worrying about me, but I’m fine. Really. Don’t make yourself sick over me. You already work too much.”

“I’ve informed Mr. Han I’m going to take a few days off. I want to make sure that there are no side effects to what just happened.”

“Well, I’m very flattered, happy even. But you have to take care of yourself too Jaehee. It’ll just make me unhappy if you get sick over me. Besides, there are other things to worry about. Like what you’re going to do about your work and what you love and stuff. Don’t bury that stuff, alright?”

“Think of me still, how odd you are,” Jaehee let out a sigh. Nevertheless, she said nothing more. It wouldn’t do to make you worry about her after all.

Though you couldn’t exactly call it nursing you back to health Jaehee was certainly attentive in the week and a half to come. All throughout the time she kept thinking, about you, about her, about what all this meant. In truth it was only after you were safe that Jaehee could acknowledge how terrified she had been, enough to consider diving through the wreckage of an apartment. You had opened up a whole new world to her, without you Jaehee would’ve never begun thinking about herself, about her own happiness. She had so much to thank you for. Even more, Jaehee had the sneaking suspicion that she would want to thank you even if you had done nothing.

“I’ve made my decision.”

“Oh?” You smiled, puzzled by the sudden conversation.

“I’m going to attempt to start again, to start doing something I want to do. I hope that you’ll join me in this endeavor.”

Your smiled was blinding.

“Of course, I will!”

Perhaps now Jaehee could acknowledge the love that bloomed within her at your assent.

Yoosung

He knew it was going to happen. He knew that there was no way of escaping it. Maybe that’s why he almost felt like a burden had been lifted when he finally heard that the inevitable had happened.

Ever since Seven had first revealed the bomb in Rika’s apartment Yoosung knew it was going to go off. It wasn’t some weird dream thing like Zen, or some calculation the way Jumin or Seven might do. Yoosung just knew, somehow, he really did just know it. He tried to put it off, tried to stop it even. If he could go with Seven to find out about the hacker, if he could stop this weird organization, if he could get V to finally tell the damn truth, then maybe, maybe he’d be able to prevent it.

Luck was never on his side though, this Yoosung had learned long ago. He wasn’t strong enough to stop the bomb from going off, he wasn’t strong enough to keep you safe. All these things that he wanted, needed to be, and he couldn’t do any of those things. You were the first person he had formed any sort of deep connection with since Rika. Maybe that’s why he kept mixing you up in the beginning; after all, it was the first time he even began to feel a similar amount of happiness since her death. And now you were in danger of going away as well. It haunted Yoosung. He never thought that he’d ever use that word to describe, he found it sort of pretentious, but really it was the only word he could think to describe the situation. Every text, every voice call, every reminder that you were alive, that you were somewhere on this Earth, it was like a lifeline, one he was desperately grabbing onto.

“Hey, Seven?”

“What?” Seven’s reply was muffled by the cheap sandwich shoved into his mouth. Secretly Yoosung found the convenience store sandwich bread disgusting, but right he wasn’t thinking about that.

“Something’s blinking.”

“Gonna have to be more specific.”

“Something on the monitor, it just started blinking red in the corner, one of the tabs in the bottom, it might’ve just opened too I don’t know.”

“Let me check,” Seven replied, ambling his way over to the monitor. Once he saw the icon though he let out a loud series of curses. “Shit, shit, shit, shit. Yoosung?”

“What?” Yoosung already knew that something had gone wrong. Adrenaline began to race through him, and the world suddenly seemed both all too fast and all too slow.

“Grab my phone and go to the RFA app. My version has a tracker on all the RFA member’s phones. I want you to make sure that there’s one around Rika’s apartment.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“Yup and sleazy. Now look.”

Yoosung tapped on the app with trembling fingers. Seeing the icon, he paused. He needed to know. Before he looked, he needed to know.

“Hey, Seven.”

“What.”

“Did, did something happen to the apartment.”

“Yoosung, I need you to understand that it’s probably fine.”

“Probably, Seven what are you talking about?”

“It’s, it’s, something went wrong.”

“Went wrong? What went wrong? Seven, stop being so damn cryptic!” Yoosung’s voice was shaking by now, but he pressed forward.

“Fine.” Seven let out a long sigh, before breathing in deeply once more. “The apartment, it blew. I don’t know how or why or what but the bomb went off. And now we need to make sure that all the members of the RFA are safe.”

That they’re safe. Yoosung knew what Seven was trying to say, what he refused to say. Still the words seemed so odd. Of course Yoosung knew it was going to happen, knew that he wasn’t going to be that lucky, knew that V and Seven’s secrets would eventually fuck something up. But still, it was too soon, it was not right. Just because he had seen it coming didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt any less. Letting the phone drop from his hands Yoosung drifted down the hall towards the bathroom; where he promptly crumbled into a ball and let the tears flow.

Yoosung didn’t know how long it took to figure out you were alright, didn’t know how far away the hospital was or how much Seven stepped on the gas. His mind was surprisingly blank, wiped free of any sense of time or space. Even learning you had survived – by climbing on the neighboring fire escape and running like hell when the warnings started going off – didn’t clear the fog around his brain. Wandering down the hospital, half pushed by Seven, he wondered when this odd nightmare was ever going to end.

The moment he saw your face the world sped up again. Not realizing that Seven had decided to stand outside instead of watch the scene in front of him, and frankly not caring, Yoosung catapulted himself towards you. Crushing you in a hug he buried his face in your neck, trying to convince himself that you were real, that you were alive, that you weren’t going to be put in the ground and have dirt shoved upon you. That you were really, truly, still here.

“I should’ve been there to protect you.”

Night had fallen, and visiting hours were almost over at the hospital. At first Yoosung had been all smiles, all very teary smiles. Fussing about you, fluffing your pillow, yelling at Seven about what food would be appropriate to give you, Yoosung had ridden the wave of manic relief that kept him from thinking about everything that he’d been beating himself up about for the past, who knew how long. Now that things had slowed down however, he found himself thinking about them again.

Talking to you was the only way Yoosung knew how to make all the doubts and worries go away. He wasn’t cool like Zen or in control like Jumin. He desperately wanted to talk to you, wanted to know what you thought about everything and anything. And this was part of that. Now that he was here, in the quiet of the evening, Yoosung realized that he couldn’t bring himself not to talk to you about it.

“Don’t beat yourself up about that Yoosung,” you replied softly. “It wasn’t something you could predict. Besides, you could’ve gotten hurt, and then where would we be?”

“I know, but still! I, I really like you, I want to be your boyfriend when this is all over. But I can’t even protect you. I couldn’t save Rika, and now you almost died!”

“I didn’t almost die, Yoosung you’re exaggerating.”

“No, I’m not!” Frustration and fear combined in Yoosung’s voice, and he found his words cracking pathetically. “I’m not even mature enough to protect you, I’m not strong enough to be someone, someone worth something.”

“Yoosung, please listen to me,” your voice was soft but firm. Yoosung quieted, staring at your linked hands. “There are different kinds of maturity in the world,” you continued. “Sometimes being mature means not giving into emotions, or being really strong, or really good at doing all the things you’re supposed to do when you grow up. But you can be mature in other ways. Yoosung, I think you’re really matured when it comes to being kind. Not a lot of people are kind like you, or care about people a lot. And I really love that about you. So, I hate when you act like it’s a bad thing, or like you’re weak or something. You aren’t weak because you can’t control the world or because you aren’t ‘cool’ or something. In fact, you’re one of the strongest people I know!”

Yoosung was silent, trying to let your words sink in. He wasn’t good at accepting compliments, he never had been. Still, in that moment, he felt unbelievably light.

Smiling softly, finally letting himself look you in the face Yoosung felt his heart flutter as you smiled back. He didn’t quite believe in you, or himself, yet. But in that moment, he couldn’t deny how much he loved you.

And how much it meant to him that you loved him back.

#sorry this is a day late #mystic messenger #jaehee x reader #jaehee kang #yoosung x reader #yoosung kim #mystic messenger fanfiction #scenarios #my writing #requested

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mantistog · 4 years ago

Note

I was wondering if you can take a request for Yandere! Hannibal x reader x Yandere! Will Graham where the reader is very cold hearted so she always rejects Hannibal and Will and so they start killing for her like courtship and they eventually kidnap her and tell her they killed those people for her? Sorry if it’s long and I love your writings keep up the good work!

Bit different than what you wrote, sorry lol. I often get caught up writing, although I hope you still like it. <3

_________________________________________________________

Yandere!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Yandere!Will Graham: Devotion

The first time you rejected them you had been dealing with a sizzling headache for most of the day. It was the kind of headache that spread through the top of your head to the bridge of your nose and to the edge of your neck, making your head heavy and unbearable. The kind of headache that renders you desperate for relief and makes you question if life is even worth it at all. So to say you were irritable was an understatement. They could not have chosen a worse time to try and court you with dinner and fake kindness.

At first it seemed they had thought your coldness and rejection was a symptom of your vicious headache or your bad mood following it. In reality you were just not at all interested in being part of a weird three way relationship, much less their toxic and gross partnership. The only way to describe it was codependent. It seemed Hannibal loved when people needed him. Or maybe he liked the control that came with someone being under him and having complete control. He did seem like the control freak type. Will on the other hand seemed he needed someone to make him stable. Someone to just handle him, even when he can’t handle himself.

You needed neither, and you definitely didn’t want it. No one needed to give you a role to make you feel worth something and you didn’t need to define yourself by anyone you chose to date. You were not interested in any aspect of their sick love. Maybe if you had told them that that day instead of telling them politely to fuck off, they would have understood. The next time they had asked you out, it was when you bumped into them by accident. What for you had forgotten, but you needed flowers. Maybe it was a funeral, or maybe it was one of your friends' birthdays. You had never been good with gifts, always giving people things you’d liked. The flower you had chosen was a large bouquet of sunflowers, a big beautiful one that went well with the season. Sunflowers were your favourite, too. When you had bumped into them you had accidentally let that slip, when Hannibal had asked what occasion called for sunflowers. He had always looked far too deep into everything, making him too pretentious for your liking. Who cared if the flower was wrong for the occasion, if it was pretty?

Either way you had told them in exact words that whatever they were trying to invite you to was not going to happen, and you were not in any way interested in any of them. Hannibal had of course tried to goat you into coming for dinner as a ‘friend’. Will was less tactful, seeming rather distraught. You disagreed, your patience thin. You simply walked away without even a goodbye. A lot of your friends would call you cold, or mean. To you it just meant you didn’t lie or deal with peoples shit. You were okay with being called cold if it meant you didn’t have to bother with putting up fake courtesies.

When the pictures of the body came to you a few months later, you had completely forgotten the interaction. They had seemed much less pushy in their pursuit and you had to some degree even forgotten they had even tried to court you. In some way, the body was beautiful. The way the skin seemed so pale, like porcelain, matched so well with the vibrant yellow of the flowers. The body wasn’t even the focus of the masterpiece, it was the canvas for which the sunflowers were painted. The body was perched on a set of antlers, and it made you think it must have been the chesapeake ripper.

But the motive was so different. Violation, cannibalism and the act of murder was always what you saw on the crime scenes from him. But this was not anything violent in nature itself. There was barely any blood anywhere on the body, it looked barely touched. She was almost alive, if it was not for the paleness and cold of her skin. Some of it looked even blue. You wondered what Will would gather of the body, if he would come to the same conclusion as you.

You were surprised when he claimed it to be a love proclamation, yet still insisted that it was the ripper. Will knew better than you, when it came to all this, so you didn’t bother arguing with him. He insisted something must have changed in the ripper's life. That he must have found someone or something worth his art. It seemed almost unlikely to you, that someone like the ripper could be possible of love. Jack seemed to agree with you, which at least put your mind at ease.

It wasn’t long before the next body turned up, in the same state as the last. So well preserved it was eerie. The body was exactly the same as the last, but the sunflowers were backed by bouquets of flowers. Just like with the last body, you didn’t connect the dots. But you still briefly thought about how pretty it was. You loved all those flowers, and you had to stop yourself from letting that thought fester. It would be too morbid to find it beautiful.

Bodies kept turning up like that, so different but all so similar too. And after the 4th one you started to notice a pattern of the things the bodies were adorned with and that it was all things you found nice. But the 5th drove it home, putting it just beyond a coincidence for you. Just a week before the body turned up you had an altercation with your neighbor about a noise complaint after you had some friends over. You were complaining about it for a week, the fact that you didn’t see him again didn’t even cross your mind. You were too busy being caught up in your own spite to notice his absence at all. Until you saw the pictures of his body. Unlike the almost artistic and beautiful vision portrayed through the previous bodies, this one was malicious and predatory like the other victims of the ripper.

It was like the pictures snapped you back to reality. All those bodies, it was all too close to home. You hadn’t asked for this. All you had done was complain. You went home early that day, overcome with a sense of guilt. You stayed home the next day too, calling in sick. You kept going over who it could be in your life. Will had deemed the killing proclamations of love, yet you couldn’t find one person who had shown any kind of interest in you. That was until you remembered the rejections. The lead was so thin, that you honestly felt bad for even thinking about it, but it was quickly squashed when you thought about it further. You had always found Hannibal creepy and probably capable of murder. And Will was unstable to the point where you didn’t even question his capabilities.

You went back to work as normal after that. You made sure not to say anything personal, or complain about anyone when Hannibal or Will came near you. It went pretty smooth, and while everything was laying dormant in their relationship and your mind, you focused on trying to come up with a plan to see if it was them. But as mundanity rolled back into your life, you started chatting with your coworkers the same as you always had. And you made a mistake. You hadn’t even noticed Will was in the room as your back faced the doorway of the breakroom talking about a guy you had met at your local cafe. You were interested in him. It wasn’t often you were, and you had just let it slip in excitement. You didn’t even notice until you got spooked by a cough behind you that he had been there the whole time, pouring coffee. You fretted going home that day, scared of what would happen.

You couldn’t remember exactly when you had fallen asleep, but you woke up feeling really tired and stiff, with the faintest of headaches growing in the back of your skull. Yet you felt nice, pulling the duvet closer to your face to try and put pressure on your head and alleviate some of the headache. The duvet was soft, and it smelled faintly of manly cologne. A cologne that wasn’t yours. Suddenly the gears in your head turned, and you shot upright, looking around suspiciously. The room is unfamiliar to you, but at the end of the bed you see Will, asleep. He’s sitting on the floor, propped up on the bed with his hands reaching upwards towards you, his face down on the sheets. He looks almost cute, like that. You almost consider waking him, to talk to him about this, but you quickly decide not to. Could you even make it to the door without him waking?

You look over at the half open door, at the other side of the room from the bed. But before you can even calculate the chances of your escape the door opens further, creaking in the process and startling Will awake. Hannibal is looking at you with a smile, and your blood runs cold at how creepy and insincere it is. Will scrambles to stand up, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring up at you. His expression was so emotional, mixed with both pity and something akin to happiness. He looks like he is approaching one of his wild dogs, moving very slow and cautiously.

“Why?” Is all you manage to ask, when in reality you probably had hundreds of questions you wanted to ask them. But you don’t manage to eliquate a good question. It prompts Hannibal to step into the room fully, and you can now see that he is whipping his hands with a small cloth, indicating he was probably making something in his kitchen, like he always did. He cocks his head confused and Will scoots himself closer again. “That’s a very broad question. You’re going to have to reconvey.” Hannibal says. Your mouth scrunches up as the fake smile appears back on his face. It’s obvious you’re displeased, and you can’t help but grow a bit hostile.

“Why am I here? Why do you murder innocent people? Why am I alive?” You snap, looking at them with pure anger. It feels good, to finally tell them off again. Hannibal's fake smile drops, and he opens his mouth to reply but Will is already sitting by you, grabbing your hands in his. You’re too stunned to say anything. “We did it for you, can’t you see?” He pleads. But no, you still don’t understand. You will never understand. All you can feel at this point is exasperation. “You’re crazy. Neither of you even know what love means.”

Will smiles, bringing your hands closer to his face, despite you half heartedly pulling them away. He kisses your knuckles gently.

“Breakfast is ready.” Hannibal says, as if everything is normal. As if you’re not kidnapped. As if you’re not the cause of over 5 dead people.

As if you love them.

#Yandere! will graham #Yandere!Will #Yandere!Will graham x reader #yandere!hannibal #Yandere! Hannibal lecter #Yandere!Hannibal lecter x reader #Yandere x reader #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader

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lazaefair · 4 years ago

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Has anyone done the Disney Princess AU yet

Part 1 - written by me, @poemsingreenink, and @iwritesometimes

poemsingreenink: Like, if anyone has big, soft innocent eyes it's Marwan who I swear to god looks near happy tears in most intense scenes. I at one point during Aladdin in theaters thought "You know Jafar's maybe just not had a great life. He's really having a day here." BECAUSE OF HIS BIG SOFT EYES.

lazaefair: LUCA MARINELLI HIMSELF SAID IT

sarah: HOWWWWW DID HE EVEN GET CAST AS JAFAR LIKE THOSE ARE DISNEY PRINCESS EYES

lazaefair: I...I need somone to draw Joe in a Disney Princess dress

sarah: but WHICH PRINCESS i feel like belle's off the shoulder gold ballgown has promise

lazaefair: Ariel’s pink gown would really drive the point home, though Although you’re right, Belle is a literate, dreamy brunette who loves poetry, so she’s closer as an archetype

sarah: i'll be honest: i was mostly thinking of getting his shoulders nude

lazaefair: Nicky is Ariel. Big blue eyes, otherworldly, utterly uncivilized.

sarah: YES

So imagine: Prince Yusuf, who had a giant statue of himself gifted to him on his birthday, and who hates it because his best friend (and immortal general of the army) Andromache is NEVER GOING TO LET HIM LIVE IT DOWN.

Also imagine: feral merman siren Nicolò who bites off fishheads and communicates through weird clicking noises, when he’s not singing men to their deaths. He’s not one of those useless pretty koi mermaids, no. He’s a motherfucking creature of the deep. Lamp eyes that are used to distract fish prey. Claws and pale fins and an intense stare and fangs.

Now imagine: Prince Yusuf going overboard in the storm that hits his royal yacht. Struggling, swept away, half-drowned and losing hope fast when an unearthly song fills the air, low and sweet and compelling. He’s swimming towards the singing before he realizes it, delirious, until something closes around his ankle and drags him under. The thing under the water kills him quickly.

And then kills him again, when it doesn’t take. After the third killing, Nicolò’s on his way to being well and truly mystified (“Okay, don't panic. They all die eventually, maybe...maybe I’ll just need to do it again?”) and gives up after the fourth and fifth killing. He drags his (attempted) prey to a little sheltered island he knows about, kills it one last time just to make sure, and then watches, resigned, as the flesh heals up and the lungs push water out until it’s coughing its way back to undeniable life.

“You rescued me,” is the first thing Yusuf says to him. “Your song – it is the song of my heart. My soul.”

Nicolò...has no idea what to do with this, coughs awkwardly in reply, and leaves before he can think too hard about the warmth in his chest answering to the warmth in the human’s expressive, grateful eyes.

(He doesn’t tell Yusuf the truth about their bloody first meeting until years later. It’s too goddamn embarrassing, to be perfectly honest.)

Of course he comes back within a day, almost shamefully quickly. Unable to help being fascinated by this gorgeous, well-spoken, kind and generous human who cannot die. He starts bringing things to Yusuf: at first just fish, then interesting-shaped fragments of rock and coral, and then bits of treasure he’s collected over the years, just to hear what new poetic turn of phrase Yusuf will spout on the spot when he’s given something.

“...this is my family crest on this treasure chest, Nicolò. How strange.”

“It is the chest you said your great-great-grandfather lost,” Nicolò says, the words coming out dry and halting from long years of disuse. Watching Yusuf’s hands as he traces the elaborate lines engraved on the lid, now blurred with rust and coral.

“That’s amazing. Truly. I am at a loss for words,” Yusuf says, smiling.

“No, you aren’t,” Nicolò says, and keeps watching so he can see the moment when the smile turns into a laugh.

Another day, he brings to Yusuf what Booker had told him was called a ‘dinglehopper’ and was what humans used to keep their hair in order, as they did not have the ocean to spread it out like beautiful seaweed in the waves. Yusuf takes it, mouth twitching in a way that makes Nicolò doubt the accuracy of Booker’s explanation. Yet Yusuf does not correct him, but in fact solemnly thanks him before offering the dinglehopper back and asking him to help untangle his riot of curls.

And so it goes. Days pass. Fascination becomes infatuation, turns to desire and then into love, until neither can imagine living without the other, and yet—

Eventually, Nicolò has to give Yusuf up. The prince is too noble and good to just abandon his people indefinitely. And because Nicolò loves him, he goes out and once more lures a ship in with his song, but not to dash it to pieces on jagged rocks this time. He leads them to the island. Watches from a distance as the astonished shouting begins, then back-pounding hugs and joyous celebration as Yusuf boards the ship and sails away. Watches Yusuf turn back more than once to scan the beach, clearly looking for Nicolò, but Nicolò does not follow. Instead, he watches until the ship is lost to his sight and he cannot feel the ship’s current or smell, and then he dives deep and goes to visit Merrick.

Meanwhile, Yusuf arrives back at the capital, where his other best friend, Quỳnh (immortal admiral of the navy) feels terribly guilty about the prince going overboard on his birthday. Which is why she uncharacteristically doesn’t give him shit when he comes back babbling nonsense about mermaids. Or when he spends the next few weeks moping around, writing mermaid poetry and drawing mermaid pictures.

To be fair to him, the particular mermaid he sketches over and over does look pretty striking. Otherworldly and all that. Good cheekbones. Nice pearly scales. “Fucking...giant anglerfish eyes,” Quỳnh mutters while she and Andy look over the latest pile of sketches Yusuf’s left abandoned on a library table. “Our prince has been fucking bewitched by a fucking fish.”

“Mm,” Andy agrees.

So when Nicolò arrives at the palace one fine summer’s day – naked, his fangs smoothed away to look perfectly human, a giant emerald in one hand and a silver fork in the other – and walking, on legs, it causes a bit of an uproar.

“You still smell like the sea,” Yusuf says hoarsely into Nicolò’s neck, the two of them wrapped around each other as closely as two bodies can be.

“Oh, fuck,” Andy says, lowering her axe. Quỳnh looks more closely at the dirty naked wild man their prince is embracing as if his life depends on it. Angular face. Skin encrusted with salt. Absolutely enormous piercing blue eyes. Naked, did we mention naked.

“Oh, fuck,” Quỳnh says.

“You get them separated,” Andy says. “I’ll go...get them a bath.”

The price Nicolò paid for his new human shape:

His siren song.

His immortality.

What he gets in return:

Yusuf teaching him what a dinglehopper is actually called, and what humans actually use it for.

Yusuf teaching him how to read and write his native tongue, and a few other tongues besides.

Yusuf reading poetry to him or sketching next to him on long lazy afternoons in the gardens.

The immense pleasure of intimidating the fuck out of any remaining would-be suitors for Yusuf’s hand in marriage who are still hanging around the palace for some reason.

“I am Nicolò di Genova,” Nicolò replies to the marquis’s indignant demands – predator’s smile still frightening even without endless rows of needle-sharp teeth. “You have seven days to leave this place forever. Get your affairs in order.”

Friendship with Andy and Quỳnh.

“Holy shit. Did he just—”

“—stab the marquis with a fork, at dinner, in front of the entire court? Yep.”

“...”

“New best friend.”

“Obviously.”

Yusuf writing poetry about him and to him. Nicolò likes them all. He wouldn't know a good human poem from a bad human poem, but nothing Yusuf touches could be bad, so ergo it's good.

Sightseeing throughout the kingdom with Yusuf’s strong, gentle fingers twined around his.

Yusuf breathing blissful curses into Nicolò’s ear, exactly like he used to do on their island, as they move together on his enormous bed.

Yusuf. Yusuf. Yusuf.

(Booker is also there. He insisted on being turned human, too, and coming along to make sure Nicolò doesn’t totally fuck this up, but he’s really mainly there for the entertainment. And the booze. Andy asks him at one point about losing his immortality. He shrugs. “Look, if we die, we die,” he says, then offers Andy another pour of fine French brandy. The two of them get along famously.)

It’s all going great until one night on the beach, while they’re walking along hand-in-hand under the stars and idly discussing human and merfolk constellations. Someone approaches them, dressed splendidly and moving with arrogant grace. He is also angular, also fair-haired, also possessed of unsettling eyes. And he has Nicolò’s siren song, gently humming from the shell that adorns his neck.

“Merrick,” Nicolò hisses as Yusuf’s eyes grow glazed and blank, and he tightens his hand on Yusuf’s, afraid for the first time. “Our deal—”

“He can’t bear the idea of living forever without you, can he? And so he hasn’t proposed,” Merrick says, smiling cruelly. “You’ve missed your chance. He’s mine.” And he extends his hand out to Yusuf—

Who stirs, suddenly, and turns to Nicolò. “Limpid, or shimmering?”

“What?”

“Shimmering,” Yusuf decides, peering into Nicolò’s eyes. “Yes. Limpid would be too pretentious, I think.”

And that’s pretty much that – we don’t actually get the plot with Merrick the Sea Witch because Yusuf only has eyes for one weird-looking white guy. Also, his one artistic failing is that he's tone deaf.

They do eventually kill Merrick because true love wins out and we are all about those happy endings, Grimm’s can suck it, etcetera, so Nicolò gets his immortality and his siren song back. He’s also back to being a merman, but Yusuf does not care. “I could paint your beautiful tail for the rest of my life, my love, and still fail to capture the luminous iridescence of you,” he murmurs, stroking said tail with tender fingers. The last person to touch Nicolò’s tail got his hand bitten off. Here and now, Nicolò runs his claws through Yusuf’s hair, clicking deep and happy in his throat.

(“This is weird, right?” Quỳnh asks from where she and Andy are busy scraping evil kraken guts off their armor, a prudent distance down the beach from the lovers. “I’m not the only one who thinks it’s weird?”

Andy says nothing, just offers Quỳnh the rest of her bottle of vodka. This is why Quỳnh loves her so.)

(The wedding is a nightmare, at least according to the palace chef charged with cooking the wedding feast. “What is this, this, abomination? What in heaven’s name have you brought into my kitchen!”

“Tubeworm,” Booker says. “Considered a fine delicacy among our people. Don’t worry about it.”)

#the old guard #joe x nicky #immortal husbands #kaysanova #disney princess au #by lazaefair

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gendercraft · 4 years ago

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When I Fell Overboard [Chapter Three: Strawberries & Pomegranates]

Read on ao3

Synopsis: Sebastian struggles with his relationship with Maru as she strives to get close to him. Meanwhile, he and Elliott get closer and closer.

Trigger warnings: Panic attacks, fighting, snapping, potentially unsympathetic Robin, crying, food mention, let me know if I missed anything please

Things at home weren’t the same after Sebastian and Maru talked.

He had a feeling she talked to Mom and Demetrius, because everyone was awkward around him, walking on eggshells.

“Are you going somewhere today, Sebby?” Mom asked stiffly one day as he crossed the foyer. Demetrius and Maru tinkered in the lab next door.

“Pierre’s,” he mumbled, hand on the doorknob but not turning. His hood was flicked up, his back to her.

“Well, that sounds fun. What are you getting?”

“Oh, Sebastian!” Demetrius put down the beaker and fumbled for his coin pouch. “Here, let me—”

“What are you doing?” Sebastian stared at him with wide eyes.

He raised an eyebrow. “Can’t I give my step son a little spending money?”

Sebastian stared. Could he? He guessed, sure. He never had before. Just Maru.

“Don’t be so stiff, honey,” Mom said, stiff. “Is everything okay?”

Maru gave him a knowing look. She rolled her eyes, mouth quirked. Sebastian stifled a laugh.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Just… it’s fine.”

Demetrius came over and handed him a handful of gold. Sebastian slipped it in his pocket.

“Do you want me to… pick something up for you?” He asked uncertainly.

“Uh— Sure! Honey, do we need anything?” Demetrius turned back to Mom.

She smiled, and it didn’t reach her eyes. “Um…”

“Can you get me some strawberries?” Maru asked, frustration leaking into her voice. She nodded at the door.

Sebastian fumbled to turn the handle and push the door open. “Yeah, I can— sure. Yeah.”

He ducked his head and rushed out as Mom called a, “Love you, honey! See you soon!” and slammed the door behind him.

What the fuck was that about?

He guessed Maru told them that she was going to try, so they should too, but they would stop the moment Maru did. Maybe Sebastian wouldn’t pick out the perfectly ripe strawberries and Maru would be upset so Demetrius would get on his ass about it. There goes the dollhouse. He shuddered. If that was them trying, it was creepy. They didn’t have to treat him like Maru for him to be happy, they just had to…

To what? Of course he wanted to be treated like Maru. But if that was how Maru was treated, it was fucking weird. So what did he want?

He trekked the long hike down the mountain to the heart of Pelican Town, the cobble roads and Evelyn Mullners’ gardens and the Stardrop Saloon. It was late—Shane was already headed inside the saloon, probably racing Pam there, since the two could only care to move that fast for alcohol. Pierre was only open another half hour. His lips turned down as Sebastian entered.

“Good to see you!” He called. “Thanks for shopping at Pierre’s! Can I help you find anything? We have a brand new selection of fresh produce, compliments to Farmer—”

“I don’t need your help,” Sebastian snapped.

Pierre always pissed him off. His greed was his entire life. Abigail showed up at the saloon on more than a couple Fridays pissed and ready to pound back drinks because of something he did, something he didn’t do, something that wasn’t as important as his shop.

Sebastian stopped at the aisle and sighed. Embarrassment twinged in his stomach. “Pierre?” He asked, gripping the hem of his hoodie.

Pierre forced a smile. “How can I help you?”

“Strawberries?”

“Yes, we have some left over from spring. Right over here.”

Sebastian drifted over to the tubs of produce. “Thanks,” he sighed.

He picked up a basket and carefully picked out a carton of strawberries. Anxiety Farm—Sebastian always liked that name—was written on the label, a little purple stormcloud as its logo. He dropped it in his basket.

“Strawberries?”

Sebastian jumped. He turned to Elliott, forcing away the smile fighting to curl on his lips. “What?”

“I didn’t take you for the strawberry type,” he said, hands in his pockets. “I’m partial to pomegranates, myself.”

“Pomegranates are better,” Sebastian mumbled. “They’re sour.”

“They are! A pain to deseed, though.”

Elliott stepped next to him and grabbed a basket. He picked out a few pomegranates and slipped them inside.

“So how are you doing?” He asked quietly.

Sebastian shifted nervously. “Okay, I guess.”

“You guess?” Elliott glanced at him. “Any more…?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I mean, the anxiety never really goes away you know, but—”

“Oh, I know.” Elliott hesitated. “I have a little sister with anxiety. It’s about as bad as yours, it seems.”

Sebastian eyed the strawberries as if he were considering buying more. He wasn’t. “What’s her name?”

“Elliwyn.”

Sebastian stared at him. “You’re joking.”

His mouth quirked up. “I’m not.”

“Any brothers?” He drifted across the way to the aisles. There were a few canned meals that weren’t too bad. Plus, they were quick to make after working on a project for twelve hours and suddenly realizing that he was ravenous.

“Two. Jasper and Alistair. I’m the eldest.”

“God, your parents are pretentious, aren’t they?”

Sebastian nearly sighed. Dumbass. Don’t insult his family.

Elliott laughed. “A little bit.” Then he smoothed down his coat with his free hand, looking away. “I suppose I am a little, too.”

He leaned against the aisle and watched him. “I used to think so,” he admitted. “Not really anymore.”

Elliott lit up. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah. I don’t know. You’re cool, I guess.”

Elliott’s face flushed. “Now that I have your approval, I can go on.”

Sebastian shoved him playfully. “Shut up.”

“You seem off today. What’s wrong?”

“God, how do you do that? It’s a little creepy.” He drifted down to the sodas, avoiding the Joja Cola. Sometimes he bought it for Sam but the stuff made Sebastian sick. He didn’t know how Sam drank that shit.

“Call me an empath. Did something happen?”

Sebastian hesitated, then ran through the thing with as little details as possible.

“I don’t understand.” Elliott picked out a few spices—Ha. Sage. “That’s not a good thing?”

“No, I mean, I don’t know… It was just weird.” He grabbed a pack of sour candy, and Elliott picked out a few boxes of teabags. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Do you want help?” They wandered towards the checkout counter. “We can go back to my cabin, talk it out.”

Sebastian set his basket on the counter, and Pierre rang him up. “Why?” He asked suspiciously. “Why are you… doing all this?”

“Well, for one, when I see someone needs help, I can’t help but offer. I wouldn’t feel right to not.”

“That can’t be healthy.”

“And for two,” Elliott smiled, pushing his hair over his shoulder, “it certainly wouldn’t be a chore to spend more time with you.”

Sebastian flushed deep red, his blood rushing through his ears. He barely heard Pierre give him the total and fumbled for his coin pouch. Some of the gold clattered on the counter.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, taking his bags and ducking out of the way.

“So?” Elliott asked with a grin as Pierre rang him up.

“Sure,” Sebastian mumbled. Anything to not have to go home.

Elliott placed a hand on Sebastian’s back and led him out of the store, carrying their bags. People stared as they walked, Sebastian was sure of it, but his gaze was fixed firmly on the ground. Elliott stopped a moment to talk to Evelyn Mullner, and Sebastian stood there awkwardly. Evelyn liked everyone, so she wasn’t one of the people who cringed whenever Sebastian came near, but she didn’t have much to say to him besides a pleasant hello.

“Are you not close with anyone?” Elliott asked with a laugh after they left. “Evelyn is so easy to talk to.”

“No one is ‘easy’ to talk to,” he grumbled.

“Ah.” He pulled open his cabin door and gestured Sebastian inside.

It was warm inside. Sebastian looked around and found the small electric heater plugged in the corner, oscillating heat around the small space. He sat on the piano bench and Elliott sat at his writing desk. It was cramped enough that their knees touched. Maybe Sebastian was sitting just a bit too far forward. He certainly didn’t move back.

“Is there not anyone you can talk to?”

Sebastian hesitated, looking down. “Not really,” he mumbled.

“Sam and Abigail?”

“No. I mean, yeah. Just…” He sighed harshly, rubbing his eyes.

“Hey,” Elliott rested a hand on Sebastian’s knee, and Sebastian’s gaze snapped to his, eyes wide. “This isn’t a therapy session and we don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. It’s supposed to help. No use getting worked up over it.”

Sebastian nodded. It was all he could do with Elliott’s hand still there. Elliott smiled.

“Uh…” He hesitated, then rested his hand over Elliott’s. His hand was so soft, much softer than Sebastian’s own eczema-ridden skin. Especially in the summer, it was death. “We can talk, just not… I don’t know. It’s not… there’s no one I… It’s different. It’s different being close with them and being…”

“Intimate?” Elliott asked, and Sebastian shook his head.

“I don’t know, you know how you’re supposed to have those people where you don’t have any anxiety around them, you can completely be yourself and say anything?”

He nodded. “I do.”

“Do you have one of those?”

Elliott bit his lip. “I can’t say I do.”

“Me, neither. It sucks.”

Elliott watched him for a moment. Sebastian could feel his eyes burning into the top of his head. Sebastian kept his gaze on their hands, wanting to simultaneously move and never move again. Did he want Elliott to flip his hand, so they could lace their fingers? Did Sebastian want to yank his hand back and shove them in his pockets? Was he fine with how it was? His skin was crawling, but not in a disgusted way—in a way where he craved something. Something. What did he need?

“It does suck,” Elliott said softly. “But I’m happy to try and be that person for you, Sebastian.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” He chuckled. “You’ve been perfectly lovely to me. I honestly can’t understand the things some of these people say about you.”

“Like Caroline?” Sebastian scowled. Abigail’s mom never liked him.

“Like Caroline. Dyed hair and piercings does not a bad influence make. Oh! I have a great idea.”

He ripped his hand back and dug around in his groceries for a moment. Sebastian pulled his hand to his chest as Elliott found a pomegranate and disappeared into the kitchen. He came back with a small bowl, and the fruit cut in half. He gestured for Sebastian to scoot back, so he did, and they sat on opposite ends of the piano bench with the bowl in between them.

“You don’t need to-”

“I insist! I have plenty.”

He took one half and pressed it into Sebastian’s palm. Sebastian blushed and looked away.

“Okay. Thanks.”

They worked in silence for a little while, popping the seeds out and gradually filling the bowl. It was tiring work. Sebastian’s back ached, his fingers stiff. They occasionally cheated and stole a few seeds out to chew on while they worked.

“Did you ever have a person like that?” Sebastian asked quietly.

Elliott hummed, eyes on his half of the fruit. “Once, I thought I did. I was wrong, though.”

“What happened?”

“He wasn’t a good person.”

“How’d you meet?”

“A concert, if you’d believe it.”

Sebastian looked up, grinning. “I do not. What band?”

Elliot leaned forward and whispered, “Broken Belladonna.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

Sebastian laughed and shook his head.

“It was one of their last, when I was in high school.”

“Were you dating?”

“We did for a little while. Two years.”

“Yoba.” Sebastian had never had a relationship last longer than a few weeks. He was too awkward, too slow. “Did he… do something to you?”

Elliott smiled and popped a few seeds into the bowl. “He wasn’t a very good person.”

Sebastian swallowed. He wanted to press, to know that it wasn’t as bad as what was going through his mind, but Elliott clearly didn’t want to talk about it and Yoba, what if it were that bad? What was Sebastian supposed to say to that?

“It was a long time ago, Sebastian,” Elliott promised. “You don’t need to worry.”

“You know that’s not how it works, right?” He rolled his eyes. “Shit doesn’t just go away. It’s alright if it’s still affecting you.”

“Well, look at that!” Elliott looked up with a grin. “You can make healthy habits.”

“Dear Yoba,” he mumbled. “You sound like my mom. Or Demetrius. Or Maru.”

He hesitated. “Well,” he said softly, “those are the last people I want to sound like. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he mumbled.

Elliott tipped his chin up. “What did I say last time?”

He shrugged a little, swallowing. “I don’t remember.”

“I think you do. But I said that if it bothers you, it is a big deal. And to be kinder to yourself.”

Keep touching me.

Sebastian blinked. Where did that come from?

“Right.” They finished the pomegranates and set the empty shells to the side, digging into the rewards of their work. “I’ll try.”

After a while of eating in silence—normally that would be torturous, but Sebastian found himself not minding the quiet company—Sebastian turned to face the piano. He wiped his hands on his pants and settled his fingers on the keys. It was dusty and a little decrepit, but worked fine enough. Not great, but fine.

“You know how to play?” He asked.

Elliott shook his head. “No. It came with the cabin.”

“Do you want to?”

Elliott smiled. “I’m sorry?”

“I took a few lessons. I could teach you the basics, at least.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound like you. A grand piano?”

Sebastian stared at the keys. “Mom didn’t like the keyboard,” he mumbled. “I figured… it doesn’t matter. I know. And I want to thank you.”

“You could just say the words.”

“I could,” he agreed. “But you’ve done a lot of emotional labour for me. Let me do something more. It’ll at least help me feel less guilty.”

Elliott perked up. “Well, if it’ll help you!”

“Dude, that wasn’t the point.”

He set the bowl aside. “Show me.”

“Alright,” Sebastian laughed. “Here, put your hands here. You should know the names of the keys…”

They spent the next few hours at the piano. They gradually grew closer until their hips were pressed together, and Sebastian found himself laughing quite a lot. A lot more than he had in a while. Elliott had a way of catching Sebastian off guard.

Sebastian yawned, long after the sun had set, and his head drooped. His head was only inches from Elliott’s shoulder, so, pulled there by gravity, Sebastian nuzzled into it. Elliott laughed and rested a hand on the back of Sebastian’s head.

“Someone needs to go to bed,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to the top of Sebastian’s head. His hair fell down like a curtain, leaving them alone. “Do you want to spend the night?”

Yes. Yes!

“I can’t,” he said in frustration. “Those fucking strawberries. They’re for Maru.”

Elliott blinked. “Will she even be awake?”

“Well, what time is it?”

“Almost midnight.”

“Shit!” Sebastian pulled back and grabbed his bags. “Fuck, sorry, I gotta go. Mom hates me staying out this late.”

“Sebastian, you’re an adult—”

“Stop saying that,” he groaned. “I know I can. It’s just not worth the lecture right now, okay?” Then, before he could get anxious about it, he lurched forward and gave Elliott a hug.

Elliott grunted, but his arms came to wrap around Sebastian and Yoba, it was just as good as he thought. A little awkward, Sebastian’s feet were too far away and he was scared to move them closer in fear Elliott would pull away, but his head fit perfectly in the crook of Elliott’s neck and wow, he really smelled strongly of everything fresh and good.

“Okay.” He pulled away after a few minutes. He was lightheaded, a little dizzy. “Uhh, I gotta go. Thanks for… everything. Um, when can I swing by again? You know, to teach you more.”

Elliott smiled. “Right. Any time is fine with me. Maybe tomorrow?”

He smiled back. “Yeah. Sure. Tomorrow.”

He left. He smoked a cigarette on the way back to calm his nerves. He was shaking from that hug. How did that even happen? Elliott didn’t shove him off, didn’t pull away, didn’t… he just hugged him. He even seemed to enjoy it.

Sebastian rubbed his thumb against his index finger, against a crack in his skin. It burned. There was more on his face, his neck. He could hide it with soft hoodies, soft fake jeans, but he couldn’t very well go around in the skeleton mask the farmer wore sometimes. Did Elliott stare at it when they were hugging? Did he avoid the patches on his neck? Why?

He shook his head. He would just have to wait, see if Elliott hugged him first. He couldn’t be that put off, he touched Sebastian first all the time. Surely a hug wouldn’t be out of the question.

Right?

He stomped his cigarette out outside the front door and crept inside. The lights were all out, except Maru’s. He tiptoed over to her door and knocked quietly.

It opened a moment later. “Yoba, that took you forever. Had to go to Zuzu City to find any?”

“Haha. Here.” He pulled them out of his bag and handed it to her. “I’m going to go eat.”

“Wait. Where were you?”

Sebastian stopped, but didn’t answer.

“Mom said she heard from Caroline that you were with Elliott. What were you doing with him?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He snapped.

“Oh— Nothing bad! Sorry.” She sounded sheepish. “I just mean… well, you don’t seem like you’d mesh very well.”

“He’s nice.”

“Yeah, and you’re not. So… is it true? Were you with Elliott?”

“Didn’t we agree to leave each other alone for now on?” Sebastian stalked down the hall. “So leave me alone.”

He disappeared into the kitchen. All of his senses alive and aching, he stumbled through making himself a bowl of soup, ears straining.

Maru’s door closed.

new chapter posted bc someone commented on ao3, continuing that system. once i get feedback, the next chapter gets posted <3

#stardew valley #sdv #elliott sdv #sebastian sdv #elliott/sebastian

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vihola · 4 years ago

Note

"Loneliness is a slow and cruel poison" for Xala? And / or "Don't look at me like that" for the Kallig kids?

“Mama?” Astara leaned against the closed door, pressing her cheek to the cold durasteel. “Mama, let me in.”

It was probably in vain, her mother wouldn’t hear her through the massive door. Maybe she wouldn’t even sense Astara because she had shut the world out. She had barely acknowledged her children when they had arrived to see what remained of their father. She wouldn’t give them any consolation because she was too busy hurting.

“Mama?” Astara tried again, but she should have known better. She should have guessed that this would happen when her mother had walked away from the funeral pyre without saying a word to anyone.

People wouldn't stop arriving and calling and writing as the news of her father’s death spread out like ripples. They called him Barsen’thor, Alliance Commander, and many other titles while barely ever mentioning his actual name. He had touched so many lives across the galaxy, but Astara didn’t want to hear about it. Following her mother seemed like a better option because she was one breath away from saying that she didn’t really care how her father had saved someone. Maybe if he hadn’t given so much of himself to other people, he would still be alive. Maybe it was their fault ― why couldn’t they save themselves? Greedy bloodsuckers who didn’t even have the sense to feel guilty.

Her mother’s grief was suffocating. Astara reached to ease the collar that was suddenly too tight around her throat, but then she realized that there was no collar. She didn’t experience the Force in the same way as her siblings. Lua drowned in it, Solaris wielded it like an instrument, but for Astara it just happened. The Force happened to her whether she wanted it or not. She couldn’t see her mother, but she could feel a pain as deep and excruciating as an amputation.

“Why are you standing here?”

Astara turned around to see her brother.

She nodded at the closed door. She didn't have to explain who was behind it because Solaris knew as well as she did that it was the door to their parents' bedroom. Now it belonged exclusively to their mother.

“I think she’s losing it,” Astara said.

“Aren’t we all?” A weird rhetorical question from someone as composed as Solaris. His eyes were ringed with shadows, but he was so perfectly calm.

Astara pressed her back against the door and curled her arms around herself. “I tried to stop her. Talk to her. She looked at me, but she didn’t really see me, as if I weren’t even there. She was so... pale and cold and empty.”

Solaris tilted his head to his shoulder. Now that Astara took another look at him, he seemed awfully tired.

“She probably needs some time to come to terms with what happened,” he said. “Come on, Astara, you know what she’s like. You can’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to do. If she wants to be alone, let her. She’ll come around.”

“And what if she won’t?”

Solaris blinked. “She can’t fall apart,” he said with faltering conviction. “Not like this.”

Astara wasn’t so sure. She felt a hollow nervous laugh rattling in her chest and thought that maybe she was losing it, too.

“It’s just so sudden,” she said softly, looking down at her shoes. “I don’t know how you keep it together so well. Mama is like a ghost, Lua won’t stop crying, and I feel murderous whenever someone tries to offer me their condolences. And here you are, looking out for others.”

Solaris didn’t reply for a few moments, leading to an uneasy silence.

He sighed. “I knew that he was going to die. He told me.”

Astara guessed that father must have sensed it. He had never had the talent for predicting the future like some other Jedi did, but he had been strong enough in the Force to hear the footsteps of death right behind him. It didn’t surprise Astara at all, stranger things had happened in her family. What surprised her was that no one had bothered to tell her.

At first she just stared at Solaris, stunned, but then her face contorted with her rising anger.

Solaris jammed his hands into the packets of his long coat and straightened. “Don't look at me like that.”

“How come they always tell you everything, but not me?” Astara wanted to shout, but her voice sounded small and wounded. She usually preferred it when people didn’t take her seriously. It was hard enough to be a daughter of two galactic celebrities with pretentious titles, she could do without having any great expectations attached to her. But not being taken seriously in her own family hurt. It really hurt.

“Didn’t I deserve to know? Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t you? Maybe I would have… I should have...” Her words tangled, turning into an incomprehensible mess.

Solaris looked as lost as she felt. He didn’t have an explanation. Still, he said, “You were so excited about your research on Iokath, I suppose he didn’t want to ruin it for you.”

Astara felt a sharp pain in her chest. Just like that, she turned all of her anger on herself ― for taking her father for granted, for thinking that he would always be there. If only there had been a different reason for her to return home, anything but his death. If only she had come just a little bit sooner.

There you are, starlight, he would have said, catching her in his arms. There you are.

“Now I won't even get to tell him about my research,” she said, forcing the words past the lump in her throat. “He didn't know much about tech, but he always listened to my overly enthusiastic chatter and tried to understand.”

She stretched her lips in an unsteady shadow of a smile. Or she tried to. “I remember one time I burst into his room to tell him about my new project. I was so impatient, I didn't notice that he was in the middle of a holocall with someone important. I talked, and talked, and he didn't even try to interrupt me.”

She also remembered that once she had finished her monologue, the important guy on the other end of the call had asked, You figured all of that out yourself?

She had been so embarrassed, ready to apologize for her intrusion. But her father had turned to his holoterminal, replying, Didn't I tell you? My daughter is a genius.

Astara dissolved into shoulder-wracking sobs.

Solaris stepped toward her. “Please don’t. You’re going to make me cry and I’ve been holding up so well thus far. I have a reputation to uphold.” he said in a feeble attempt at a joke.

It might have worked in any other situation. Astara couldn’t see Solaris anymore with the tears blurring her sight, but there was a quaver in his voice. The only response she could offer him was a great shuddering sob as her legs gave out under the weight of her grief and she slid down the door. She wept like she had never done before, her whole body shaking and tears choking her.

Solaris sat next to her on the floor, and she clutched at his arm almost instinctively, without thinking. They leaned against each other, huddling like frightened children. They said nothing at all, Astara couldn’t even squeeze a single word between her painful gasps. They just sat there, knowing that they would never see their father again. And their mother wouldn't come to comfort them.

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rainbowshawn · 5 years ago

Text

Yours

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I couldn’t even tell you how many times I’ve re-written this one. It’s a long one though so hopefully that makes up for it!! Anyways I’m a sucker for Jealous!Shawn fics so naturally I had to write my own.

Summary: Shawn is determined to remind you who you belong to after an old friend crosses the line.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, language, jealousy, and absolute filth. (Dom!Shawn)

Word count: 7.6k

“Shawn, stop it”

You spot him rolling his eyes behind you in the mirror you were currently using to finish up your makeup. A smirk formed on his face as he watched you applying your highlighter.

“I didn’t do anything,”

“Uh-huh,” you drag, squinting your eyes at him.

A few of your old friends were in town and they had invited you to one of the new clubs in the city. It was an upscale venue and you had been absolutely dying to find an excuse to go. It also didn’t hurt that you had a dress collecting dust in your closet that was screaming to be worn. That little black dress had Shawn wrapped right around your finger and you knew it.

“Uh huuuh, that’s why you’ve been eye-fucking me back there for the past fifteen minutes,” you smirked coyly. He shifts from his spot on the bed and slowly makes his way over to you, his gaze growing more intense by the second.

“It’s not my fault you look this sexy, kitten,” he purrs, leaning down to graze your warm neck with his lips. “I think you’re trying to drive me crazy.”

You hum as you feel his lips pressing against your neck; your focus no longer on finishing your makeup. You roll your head back loving the feeling of his lips on your skin and his warm hands trailing up your stomach, getting dangerously close to your breasts. You reluctantly sit back up, shrugging off his affection in favor of getting back to your makeup.

“Don’t distract me, hornball,” you giggle, picking one of your brushes back up.

He sighs, sitting back on the bed as he licks his lips. You choose to ignore his boyish antics as you finish up your dark eyeshadow. He was already dressed and ready to go, only waiting on you so you two could head to the club.

“Who’s all gonna be there?” he inquires.

“Mmm, I think Kira, Lexi, Emmy, and Matt,” you say slowly, trying to apply your nude lipstick at the same time.

Shawn tenses at the mention of the last name. Matt was an old friend, nothing more, but he knows from stories you had told him that Matt used to have a crush on you. You had always insisted that it was nothing, just some stupid high school crush, and Shawn believes you. He really does. But he can’t stop his mind from going into defense mode, suddenly anxious about you being around someone who had wanted you for so long.

He knows it’s wrong and he trusts you. One-hundred percent. So he swallows the feeling and scolds himself internally for feeling this way.

You eye yourself in the mirror, unaware of Shawn being lost in his thoughts behind you. Your skin is glowing and your eyeshadow makes your eye stand out than it already does. You snatch up your phone that was faintly playing music and snap a few selfies in the mirror. You had to admit it; this look had you feeling super confident. Your makeup came out just right and you took the opportunity to get some cute photos out of it.

“Hey, Bubba,” your voice snapped him out of his trance, “c’mere.”

His head snaps up and he blinks quickly, getting out of his head. You’re looking at him in the mirror, your phone still held up in your hand and he catches onto what you want. He smiles as he comes over to your vanity, crouching down to be level with you as you wrap your arm around his neck.

Your faces squish together and he can’t help the blush that appears on his face as you take a few photos. He smirks as you push your lips out in a flirty pose. He chuckles as he shifts to press a kiss to your cheek as you snap more photos.

“Mmm, my pretty girl,” he says lowly, his tone sounding deeper than normal.

You shivered as you looked back through the photos, smiling as you take a liking to the one of him kissing your face.

“We look so cute,” you smile, posting the photo on your story.

“Don’t we always?”

—

The bustle of the party was a bit disorienting when you first arrived. Shawn has his arm around wrapped protectively your waist as you take in the modern club. People brush by quickly as the music pumps through the busy room. You take a moment to scan the busy area for your friends until you stumble upon a familiar face.

“Matt!”

You smile as you see the tall blonde take notice of your presence. He makes his way over to you in large strides, instantly grabbing you up into a strong hug, your laugh filling the crowded air.

“Y/N! God, it’s been yeeears!”

“I know! How have you been?” you say, beaming at him. His arms stay wrapped around you as you two speak. You’re so taken aback at your reunion that you don’t take any notice but Shawn sure does. His jaw clenches as he watches the exchange.

You go back and forth with Matt, catching up with each other briefly before Shawn clears his throat. Your attention shifts and you quickly separate from your old friend, laughing when you realize you never introduced the boys.

“Oh, duh, Matt, this is my boyfriend Shawn” you glance over at Shawn, grabbing onto his arm to introduce them.

“Nice to meet you man,” Shawn says, extending his hand out to Matt. He notices Matt’s eyes scaling your body before he snaps out of it and shakes his hand. Shawn makes sure to grip his hand extra hard, sending him a quiet signal of dominance.

“Yeah. Nice to meet you,” Matt mumbles out, still a bit distracted by your figure in your tight dress.

You remain oblivious to the exchange, smiling up at Shawn.

Some time passes and you end up in one of the large mahogany booths in the club with the group. Kira and Lexi were busy scanning the room for cute guys, hoping Toronto would be a jackpot for them. Emmy was talking to you about her trip to Iceland with her new executive boyfriend. You listen and chuckle. Still as pretentious as ever.

You’re seated between Shawn and Lexi, Matt, Kira, and Emmy directly across from you. The conversation shifts and the group starts talking about old times. You giggle at Emmy’s story of Lexi getting blackout drunk at a party you had all went to years ago, where she puked all over the guy she was trying to hook up with.

“Y/N, you remember when we used to skip school and go out to that creek? I’ll never forget when you slipped on the rocks and busted your ass,” Matt laughs out, “I had to carry you outta there and then somehow explain to your mom what we were doing down there.”

Shawn’s brows furrow as he wonders what you two were busy doing. He feels guilty for feeling uneasy about Matt. He’s never been the jealous type but he can’t seem to get past the looks he’s seen Matt giving you all night. He’s not stupid. He shifts in his seat and guides his hand onto your thigh, holding onto it protectively.

“How could I forget?” you laugh, hiding your face in your hands.

“I can’t count how many times I’ve had to take care of your clumsy ass,” he chuckles.

You quickly down the rest of your drink and interject before you can be further embarrassed in front of Shawn.

“On that note,” you interrupt, shooting matt a teasing glare, “Why are we just sitting here, guys? Let's go dance!”

You tug Shawn up, walking backward as you pull him towards the dance floor. You beam up at him, giggling as he takes in your figure, smiling at you. He knows he’s in for a long night.

You embrace the loud music and low lights as you feel the alcohol start to hit you. You dance to the top 10 hits blaring through the speakers, laughing the whole time. Shawn just watches you, a smile plastered on his face as he observes your drunken antics.

“You’re adorable,” he giggles at your dancing.

“Mmmm I know,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips, “Now let loose a little, loverboy. Show me those moves.”

—

Shawn had just reluctantly left you to grab some more drinks at the bar. After a while of being apart from the group, you see Matt making his way back over to you through the packed crowd. He stumbles along to the loud beat pumping through the club and you cock your head, observing him. His eyes rake over you and you suddenly notice the look hungry look on his face. Once he reaches you, his hand settles onto your lower back and he pulls you into him as he speaks over the obnoxiously loud pop song.

“Can I get you a drink?” he shouts, “My treat.”

You notice his eyes mentally undressing you and you giggle, unsure of how to respond.

“I think I’m okay,” you say, wiggling in his tight grasp as he grinds into you, dancing to the song. Shawn sees the exchange from the bar and immediately starts walking back to you with jealousy pumping through his veins.

“Matt, seriously stop, you’re being weird,” you half chuckle, still confused by the situation. Matt just shushes you and moves his hands towards your hips.

Shawn immediately steps over towards you, hand snaking around your waist and brushing Matt’s hands off of your body.

“She’s good, man,” Shawn blurts out; his tone a bit stronger than normal. “Hands off.”

Your timid eyes shift over to him, noticing his jaw clenching. His cheekbones looked extra defined and his jawline somehow seemed sharper than usual. You bit your lip at his dominant demeanor, suddenly distracted from the tense situation playing out in front of you.

“Woah, man,” Matt defends, “I think I was talking to the Y/N, not you.”

Shawn’s arm grips your waist tighter, and you feel him stand up straighter next to you. You hear the slur of Matt’s words and piece together that he’s beyond drunk. He had never been a big drinker and you had only seen him drunk a handful of times in high school. You were surprised at his bold advances towards you.

“Don’t think it matters,” Shawn spits, standing up straighter and towering over the blonde. He shifts to step towards Matt, moving your body behind his, “That’s my girl.”

“Guys,” you move to press your palm into Shawn’s chest and step between them, hoping to deescalate the situation. You shoot matt a glare as you see him open his mouth back up to reply. “Knock it off.”

“Whatever, man,” Matt scoffs and backs up, rolling his eyes as he disappears back into the crowd.

“What the fuck?”

“He’s been practically eye-fucking you all night!” Shawn defends himself.

“Shawn,” you trail, placing your hands on the sides of his face. He turns his head to the side, avoiding your gaze.

You squint your eyes before laughing teasingly, “You’re so jealous.”

“Am not,” he grumbles.

You turn his face, making him look at you as you squint up at him.

“Whatever you say,” you trail. “But really. He’s just drunk. He’s just my friend.”

His arms wrap around your waist and pull you to his warm body. He presses his hips into your stomach and you have to hold back a groan as you feel him grind against you.

“I don’t care,” He cranes his head down to murmur into your ear, “You’re mine.”

You groan lightly at his words; the sound lost amongst the bustle of the loud room. His lips are suddenly pressed against your neck and he nips at the skin teasingly. His hands are settled on your hips and you feel his grip tighten as he pulls you closer.

His lips trail up from your shoulder to your ear where he whispers darkly,

“How about we get out of here, kitten? Need you. Want you to myself. That dress is driving me fucking crazy,”

—

The ride back to the apartment felt like an eternity as you wound through the busy streets of Toronto. You and Shawn were in the back of an uber, trying your best not to pounce on each other. The tension was tangible as his hand rested on your thigh; his fingers drawing light circles on your sensitive skin. You bit your lip and looked out the window trying to distract yourself from his teasing.

You roll your head and look at Shawn through your heavy lids. A small smile plays at your lips as you eye the beautiful man next to you. His features are relatively lost amongst the dark environment of the car, but the dim light trickling in from the window dances across his face. He’s shifted, meeting your gaze as you rub a hand up his arm that was in your lap. His lips look extra plump as he shoots you a smirk and it takes all your strength not to latch onto him right there.

“Like what you see, dear?” he asks, knowing full well, of course you do.

“Mmm,” you hum as you press a kiss to his lips; finding them to be too hard to resist. Your hand sneaks it’s way up to rest on top of his semi-hard bulge and Shawn bites at your lip in an attempt to keep quiet.

Luckily, you don’t have too much time to get any more lost in him as you pull up to the apartment the two of you share. He’s out in an instant, faster than you could blink, reaching a hand out to help you out of the low car.

Somebody’s eager.

He tugs you through the lobby quickly, occasionally stealing glances back at you while you trail behind him. You enter the elevator, pressing the button a few times in a faulty hope that it’ll go faster. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you to him, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“When we get inside I want you to naked and kneeling on the bed,” he murmurs into your hair, “alright, princess?”

You bite your lip and nod your head. Your legs clench together at the nickname, the heat between your legs growing warmer. You know exactly what mood he was in tonight and you know he’s not playing any games. The doors finally open and you shift to dash out, feeling a slap connect with your ass. You look back to find Shawn grinning and biting his lip as he admires your figure from behind. You roll your eyes and continue on your way.

Once you two make it inside, you’re tugging your hair to the side, silently asking him to unzip your form-fitting dress. His hands dance up your sides and you feel his breath fanning against your neck as he slowly pulls the zipper down. You reach down to pull your sleek stilettos off but Shawn’s hand quickly grabs your arm.

“Keep the heels on.”

You raise your eyebrows but decide not to say anything, standing back up. You smirk as you turn around, making your way into your bedroom. You make quick work of your dress, pulling it off of your body, followed by your bra and panties. You discard them haphazardly on the floor.

You crawl onto the bed and sit back on your heels as you wait for him. Your breathing is quicker than normal, exciting anxiety coursing through your veins. You simultaneously love and hate the anticipation he’s forcing you to endure but you remind yourself that it would pay off in the end. He always left you satisfied.

After a few minutes of silently waiting, you finally see Shawn’s tall figure emerge into the dimly lit room. He’s still dressed in his tight slacks, fitting his toned legs perfectly, and his white button-up. His left hand is behind his back and you press your legs together tightly as you watch him approach you. He makes his way over until he’s stood right in front of you, gripping your jaw tightly, making you look up at him. His warm fingers press into your skin firmly, making heat pool between your legs.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?” he murmurs deeply.

“Yes,” you whimper.

“Yes what?” his grip on your face tightens and he furrows his brows at you.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good.”

His tone is dark and seductive and it sends jolts through your chest. He reveals what he has hidden in his hand behind his back; silky red ribbon. Your eyes widen as your mouth drops open ever so slightly. He smirks at your expression, making his way around the bed silently and crawling up to kneel behind you. He firmly grabs your hands that are still placed politely in your lap and moves them to sit behind you. You feel the soft ribbon wrapping tightly around your wrists and sigh at the feeling of the smooth fabric rubbing against your skin.

You feel him finish off the knot off and press a kiss to your shoulder before he makes his way in front of you again. Your eyes trail up his figure as he watches you. You feel your core aching as you take notice of the outline of his hard cock in his tight slacks. You sigh and wiggle a bit on the bed, getting impatient for his next move.

“You look so pretty like this,” he murmurs while his eyes take you in. “Tied up and waiting for me.”

His fingers start unbuttoning his shirt as his eyes remain on yours. His gaze is unfaltering and intense; confidence dripping off of him. He shrugs the white material off his shoulders and reaches for the buckle of his belt. He tugs the band off of his hips and places it on the bed next to you. You hold back a groan as he slowly unbuttons his pants and tugs them down his legs, revealing his flushed member.

“Like what you see, princess?”

“Mhm,” you nod quickly, wanting him to get to it. He smirks at your response.

He steps closer to you, your face level with his cock. He’s rubbing himself in front of you as he smirks down at you, cockily. Your heartbeat is thumping in your ears as you drown in anticipation.

“Wanna see those pretty lips wrapped around me,” he whispers, pushing the tip to your slightly parted lips.

You press a kiss to his slit as you look up at him. His hand is still rubbing his member as you kitten lick the tip of his aching cock. Shawn’s other hand makes its way into your hair, resting on top of your head and tugging you forward gently. You take his hint and wrap your lips around his tip. You press your tongue to the underside of his warm cock and swirl it around. His brows are furrowed as he watches you suck on his sensitive tip.

His grip on your hair tightens, signaling that he wants more and who are you to deny that? You inch your mouth further down his length until he’s just about to your throat. You bob your head, sucking your cheeks in and moaning against him. His head is thrown back and beautiful sighs leave his lips.

“Come on babygirl, I know you can take more of me than that,” he suggests, gently pushing your head further down on him.

Your fists are clenched behind you as you focus on relaxing your throat. You feel his cock stretching your throat out and you stay there for a moment. He groans at the feeling of your tight throat gagging slightly around him. He pulls out for a moment, letting you catch your breath before he shoves himself back inside.

“Gonna let me fuck that pretty face?” he grunts as he starts to roll his hips. The sounds of your slight gags fill the room as he shoves his cock down your tight throat. His gaze is fixated on your eyes as you look up at him through your lashes. His cheeks are rosy and he groans at the sight of your eyes watering while drool drips down your mouth onto the bed. What a dirty sight.

He continues his thrusts for a few moments before he pulls you off of him quickly. You gasp, trying to catch your breath after his brutal treatment. You chuckle breathlessly, smirking up at him as you lick your lips. His thumb comes down to wipe at your wet chin, tugging your lip in the process.

“Such a good girl,” he trails, staring at your fucked face.

He comes back behind you, untying your wrists and rubbing at them gently to soothe them. He tosses the silk ties to the side, deciding he wants you to feel him tonight. All of him. He rubs your tight shoulders for a brief moment as he kisses your neck. You relax at the feeling of his warm lips dressing your neck in wet kisses.

“I want you to lay back for me,” he whispers in your ear, sending a chill down your spine, “spread your legs.”

You comply quickly after he shifts on the bed, standing up. You relax back into the mattress and bring your knees up a bit and spread your legs wide for him. You lick your lips and wiggle on the bed a little bit as you watch him walk to the end of the bed, eyeing you like you’re his pretty. You catch his eyes trailing up from your stilettos up to your center.

He’s crawling up the bed, eyes fixated on your wet core. His normally bright hazel eyes are clouded and lustful now. When you catch sight of his hungry eyes, you giggle at him. You feel a slight cockiness fill your head when you realize how weak he really is for you. His face doesn’t move but his eyes flick up to you, glaring at you, wondering what you find so funny. His dark eyes stay trained on yours, squinting a bit as he lowers himself onto his stomach and starts pressing kisses to your warm stomach. Your muscles contract at the feeling of his teasing kisses trailing down towards your center, dripping for him.

His warm lips trail across your stomach, hip to hip, and his breath fans lightly against your skin. You sigh and close your eyes as you feel him tease you.

“What do you want princess?” he inquires, knowing damn well what you want. You decide an attitude is far from what he wants though and conclude that if you just be good, he’ll give you exactly what you want.

“Your mouth, Shawn” you whimper, “please.”

“Mmm, what was that?”

“D-daddy,” you stutter, realizing your mistake, “I want your mouth, Daddy.”

You glance down at him and see him smirking up at you.

“Mmm, that’s right, dear.”

His teasing continues only for a moment before you feel his hands reach the fold of your knees, pushing your legs open even wider for him. He presses a few kisses to your aching clit before inching his tongue out to slide against you. You whimper and feel your stomach clench at the sensation.

His tongue is rubbing wet circles against your sensitive nub and you’re absolutely reeling. Your back arches as Shawn’s lips suck your clit up into his mouth and pop it out a few times before he returns to flicking at it with his tongue. Moans vibrate against you as he grunts at the feeling of your hands pulling at his wild curls. He can’t help but rut his hips slightly against the bed as he focuses on pleasing you with his mouth. Even though he was fully in control, his goal was only to please you.

“Love this pretty pussy,” he groans, detaching his mouth from your core to stare down at it in amazement, “all mine.”

You whine, “All yours.”

He’s quick to dive back in and you’re absolutely lost in the feeling of his mouth, completely unaware when his long fingers wedge themselves inside of you. Your whimpers have turned into full-fledged moans, choking out into the quiet air. Shawn’s digits curl up and thrust into your spongy spot as his mouth continues to work you. You’re tossing your head around as you wither at the pleasure, unable to keep your composure.

He feels you tightening around his fingers, silently signaling to him that your high is approaching and he pumps for a few more moments before pulling off of you completely. He watches in amazement as your core clenches around nothing.

“Mmm, babygirl, you’re throbbing,” Shawn mewls, his eyes divulging in the delicious sight.

You’re whimpering and trying to pull him back to you with your heels, aching for your stolen orgasm, but he’s got other plans for you. He sits back on his knees before he wraps his strong arms around your legs, tugging you closer to him. Your thighs are rested upon his as his hands rub your hips as you lay on your back.

“P-please daddy,” you plead, grabbing at your breasts, aching for the release he’s so torturously denying you.

His lips have crashed against you, all tongue and teeth, moving in time with yours.

“Please what, love?” his nose grazes the shell of your ear, nipping at your earlobe. You shiver at the contact. “What do you want?”

You grumble, rolling your neck and pouting, suddenly frustrated with his teasing, “You know what I want, now give it to me.”

“Mmm, now that’s no way to talk to Daddy, hm?” he says turning his head and squinting his eyes down at you. A hand snakes up to your neck, gripping just beneath your jaw and pressing into your skin. You moan out as a delicious pressure fills your head as he squeezes gently.

His grip on your throat tightens a bit and you feel him rut his hips into yours, creating a beautiful shock of friction.

“I thought you said you were gonna be good for me? Naughty girls don’t get what they want,” he whispers, darkly into your ear. You shudder at the feeling of his grip. “Lay on your stomach. Now.”

The proposition was a demand, not a request and you knew that. You flipped quickly on the bed, feeling him straddle your thighs. Shawn’s hands took purchase on your ass, pawing at you, firmly. He squeezed your cheeks in his hands and spread you open. A growl leaves his chest as he looks down at you.

“Love this ass,” he says, “Too bad I’m gonna have to spank it.”

Your breath hitches as you realize what he’s doing. A storm of butterflies has festered in your stomach as you anticipate the first smack. His large hand raises and slaps across your right side. You tense up, groaning into the blanket beneath you. You feel your wetness dripping onto the bed and you wiggle your ass for him, prompting him further.

“Mmm my dirty little girl likes to be spanked, doesn’t she?” he murmurs darkly, squeezing you in his hands.

“Fuckin’ love it, Daddy, keep going,” you beg.

“You’re not supposed to enjoy your punishment but since you look so damn sexy, I’ll let it pass.”

He alternates hands for the next few minutes, slapping your ass red. Each one hurts a bit more but you love the painful bite. You feel his rock hard length pressed against the back of your thighs as he continues your punishment, eventually coming to a stop after he’s satisfied. You sigh as you feel his weight leave your thighs.

His hands grab your ankles, just above your heels and yank you quickly so you’re flipped back onto your back. You giggle in surprise and he smiles down at you as he crawls up your body. Your smile sends electricity through his soul and he swears his knees go weak for a moment.

“Love that laugh, dear. You’re so fucking gorgeous," he whispers into your lips, pressing a deep kiss to them. You hum and rub your hands up his bare chest, feeling his light dusting of hair and eventually settling your arms around the back of his neck.

His body leans into yours, effectively pushing his length against your center. You whine a bit, suddenly impatient to feel him. He continues to rut his hips against you, effectively teasing you. You almost slip up and tell him to get to it, but you decide to bite the words behind your lips. After a few moments, his desire overpowers his wish to ease and he finally pulls away to sit back on his heels and slide his pink tip against you. He swirls it around your clit for a moment, wanting to hear you beg for him. You choke out a moan at the sensation and grab aimlessly at him.

“What do you want?” he mutters; his voice raspy and deeper than normal and suddenly very close to your ear, “Beg for it.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you whine, wiggling against him, “God, please fuck me, Daddy.”

“Mmm, you want me to fuck you, babygirl?”

“Fuck, yes. Please, please, please,” you pant as his tip moves faster against your clit.

You gasp as he slams into you without warning, bottoming out instantly. Your stomach clenches at the tight fit and your eyes widen. He gives you a fraction of a moment to adjust to his size before he starts rocking his hips into you. His pace isn’t slow, but it’s not particularly fast either. Shawn wants to make sure you feel it all tonight. He wants to make you feel good. He wants to remind you.

You sigh at the feeling of him slipping in and out of you and close your eyes. His hands are gripping your hips firmly, holding you in place as he slowly picks up his speed. The sound of his hips slapping against yours echoes off the walls and the groans leaving both of your mouths blend with it to create a sinful harmony.

“Such a good girl takin’ all of me.” his voice disrupts, “That’s my pretty girl,”

His hands leave your hips in favor of moving to your tits where he squeezes you tightly. Shawn’s hips don’t stop rutting into for a second as he smacks your chest, watching your tits bounce against his abrupt slap.

Sweat is gathering on his forehead and his flushed chest. His cheeks are rosy and his mouth is hanging open slightly as he moans into the air. Your eyes stay on his rosy cheeks and those damn lips. They were pink as ever and if he wasn’t fucking you so well you’d be attached to them right now.

His abs contract as he slams into you at a brutal pace. You’re whining mindlessly, not particularly making any sense. Your breathing is jagged and you roll your head around, drunk on the pleasure Shawn is providing.

“That tight little pussy is squeezing me so good,” his dark stare bores into your eyes, “I wanna fuck it all night.”

“Do it then, Daddy.” you say playfully, “Love the feeling of your cock filling me up.”

“Gonna make you come over and over on my cock, babygirl. Sound good?”

There’s no time to respond as he switches his angle slightly, making a high pitched yelp fall from your mouth as his tip hits your sensitive spot. You nod your head quickly, words failing to slip out of your mouth.

His hands slot under your knees and throw them over his shoulders. He grunts at the feeling of your stilettos scratching against his back.

“These heels are so fucking sexy. You’ve been driving me nuts all night, kitten.”

“Mmm that’s the goal,” you giggle, biting your lip while you arch your back.

Shawn throws his head back as he feels you clench around him, his adam’s apple protruding deliciously. You prop yourself up on your elbows and peak down at where the two of you meet. His length is glistening with your juices as he slides in and out of you with ease.

“Look how pretty that pussy looks, takin’ my cock,”

You whine at the sight of his hand reaching up to rub your clit quickly. The added friction was just what you needed to go hurdling towards your release. He lowers himself to dress your neck in hot kisses, dragging from your shoulder to your ear. Your senses are overcome with all of him. In this moment, he is everything.

“Gonna cum, babygirl? Cum on daddy’s cock, give it to me” he chants into your ear, encouraging your impending release.

You let go at the sound of his smooth voice praising you. His pace falters slightly as he feels you throbbing around him but he’s determined to hold out longer for you. He told you that you would cum multiple times tonight and he was always a man of his word.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as you embraced the euphoric feeling. Choked moans left your chest incessantly and Shawn could feel his cock throb at the sound. His thrusting eventually slows a bit after he helps you ride it out, and he pulls himself out of you, giving you a moment to collect yourself.

You’re lying on the bed, absolutely spent. Your breathing is slow and deep, trying to come back down to earth. You close your eyes for a moment but are interrupted by Shawn tapping your hip.

“Lay on your side. Now.”

You comply and quickly roll onto your side, still a bit lost in your bliss. One elbow props you up and you look behind your shoulder as Shawn slots himself next to you, spooning your body.

“Leg up,” he demands, cupping your thigh with his hand and propping it up. He grabs his member and swiftly slips in back inside of you. You whimper at the little pop it takes for him to slip in. He grunts and hisses once he’s slotted all the way inside of you, “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight I barely fit.”

“Mmm, you’re so thick, daddy.” you whimper as he begins his strokes again.

“This pussy is what dreams are made of, Jesus fucking Christ. Could die like this, babe.”

The angle he’s working you at is surprisingly heavenly. His body fits perfectly against yours and he feels so close. His thrusts aren’t quite as fast this way but they feel intensely intimate. You can feel his breath fanning across your shoulder as he slots his face in the crook of your neck. Warmth radiates off of his body, transferring to yours.

The world has fallen away and you’re completely relaxed against his strong body. His long fingers have made their way back to your clit again, swirling wildly. His sighs are close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His lips continue working against your neck and he nips at your earlobe.

“Love you so much, babygirl,” he whispers, “don’t forget it.”

You melt further into him, his sweet words sharply contrasting the filthy situation.

“I love you too, Shawn”

His nose nuzzles into your hair and you close your eyes, listening to the sounds falling from his lips. He’s trying so hard to hold out for you, wanting to prolong your pleasure. He shifts a tad, finding that spot again and quickly sends you over the edge.

You wiggle against him, your second orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave. The sound of your cries takes his breath away and he’s determined to hear it at least once more tonight. Pleasure pumps through your body for a few moments and he’s quick to get you on your knees the second you’re done. He shows absolutely no mercy as his tip rubs against your sensitive core, getting ready to slip in once again.

“Shawny, I’m so sensitive,” you whimper, pulling away from him slightly.

His hands grab your hips and roughly pull you back to him.

“You’re gonna give me another one, sweetheart. I gotta remind you who makes you feel this good.”

So that’s what this is about.

Fuck, he’s hot when he’s jealous.

A hand slaps across your ass and you flinch at the feeling, body jolting forward a bit. Shawn’s fingers slip down to rub against your over-stimulated nub and you go weak in the knees. You fall forward, face mashing against the mattress as his fingers spiral against you.

“Sound good, love? Gonna cum for daddy again?”

You nod quickly, your cheek pulling against the mattress you were laid out on. Another slap meets your skin and you groan.

“I need you to say it, baby.” he searches for your verbal consent.

“Yes, Shawn,” you whine, eager to feel him again, “Make me cum on your cock again, please.”

That’s all he needs to bury himself back inside of you. The position you were in made you feel a bit tighter and you winced for a moment as he started moving. Soon, the pain subsided and his pace picked back up to an unbelievable speed. Your jaw was slack as his hips collided with yours. His hands were situated on your waist and he was holding you as-if you would disappear at any moment. His composure was beginning to falter and his moans slowly turned into choked mewls.

You turned your head to attempt to look at him and the sight was beautiful. His head was thrown back, exposing all the valleys on his long neck. His adam’s apple protruded through his smooth skin and his lip was tucked under his straight teeth. His mouth falls open as he picks his head back up to look where the two of you meet. The sight of your wetness soaking him sends chills down his spine. He can’t believe how lucky he got with you.

He catches your eyes and smirks at you before he slaps your ass.

“Like that? Does my good girl like to get fucked from behind?”

“You feel so fucking good like this, daddy, fuuuuck” your voice bounces as his body collides with yours.

“You get so tight after you cum. You feel like fucking heaven.”

You start to meet his deep thrusts, tossing your hips back to meet his pace. He maintains his efforts for a few moments but eventually lets you take what you need of him. He’s absolutely beside himself as he watches you work him.

“Fuuuck, babygirl. That’s it, fuck yourself on my cock,” he growls, “you look so gorgeous like this.”

Shawn lets you go on like this for a bit before he snaps out of his daze. He’s determined to stay in control tonight. He’s determined to remind you who you belong to. Nobody could make you feel this good.

His hips double down, somehow rutting into you even faster than before. You fall silent for a few moments, unable to process how amazing he’s making you feel. Your legs are shaking slightly but his large hands hold you in place, firmly. His mind is consumed by you. Nothing could ever take you from him. No one. He knows he doesn’t have to prove himself, but God is it fun.

“Gonna cum again, baby? I can feel it,” he grumbles while his hands rub your hips and waist. Your words don’t seem to form as high whimpers tumble off of your lips.

“Who makes you feel this good?” he growls, thrusting harshly.

“You do, Shawn,”

“That’s right, only I can fuck you like this,” his dirty words fall out of his mouth like silk, “only me.”

“Only you, Shawny.”

Moans fill the air as you both reach your final highs of the night. Your center throbs around him, milking him for all he’s worth. His chest heaves as he empties himself inside of you. The sound of heavy breathing soaks into the air as you both come down from your explosive highs.

His hands rub across your back as he pulls himself out of you. You sigh at the loss, feeling your juices dripping out of you and down your legs. His fingers spread you apart and his hungry eyes divulge in the dirty sight. You giggle innocently as you push some of it out. It takes everything he has to stop himself from making you go for another round. He smacks your ass playfully and you lower yourself onto your stomach.

Shawn slips off of the bed and makes his way into the dimly lit bathroom for a moment. You bite your lip as you observe his naked figure walking back into the room. He notices your stare and giggles, “Eyes to yourself, pervert,”

“Mmm, rich coming from the man that just made me cum 3 times.” you wittily reply.

“Damn right I did,” he smiles cockily. “Lay on your back, open your legs.”

“Just can’t get enough of me can you?” you giggle, turning over for him. He rolls his eyes and crouches down onto the bed.

“Just wanna clean you up.”

He gently wipes up your mess, paying special attention to be careful with your sensitive core. You smile down at him as you observe his tender care. A kiss is pressed into your tummy before he moves to toss the cloth into the hamper. He stops at your dresser, snagging one of his big t-shirts for you along with a pair of panties and some boxers for himself.

He quickly slips into the black boxers, stumbling over to the bed. You’re still laid across it, spent after your session.

“Can you sit up for me, love?”

You comply and sit up, pressing your lips out and silently asking for a kiss. He smiles and delivers, giving you a soft peck.

“Arms up.”

You lift your arms and he slides the shirt down your arms and over your head, draping you in his favorite shirt. He has you lay back and he tugs a clean pair of panties on you and quickly plops himself on top of you.

His arms squeeze your waist as his head burrows into your neck. You hum at the feeling of his weight on top of you, providing you with a sense of comfort. He melts into your embrace as your small hands run up and down his back. He always gets so soft after the two of you finish; a stark contrast to his dominant demeanor in bed.

“Bubba?” you chirp quietly.

“Hmm,” he hums into your neck, suddenly sleepy.

“You okay?”

“Mhm,”

You frown a little, shifting under him to prop your head against the headboard. He stirs on top of you, avoiding your gaze by staying buried in your neck. Your hand slowly comes to a stop on his back as your mind became preoccupied.

“Are you still upset about Matt?”

He sighs.

“I don’t know, I guess.”

Your frown grows and your hand moves to continue rubbing his soft skin in a feeble attempt to comfort him.

“Yeah?” you inquire, prompting him. He hesitates, still buried in your neck. He feels like he could die of embarrassment if you look at him.

“It’s dumb.” he sighs, trying to avoid the topic.

“If it’s upsetting you, it isn’t dumb.”

His grip around your waist tightens.

“You’re just mine,” he starts. You wait a moment, seeing if he’ll explain further, “I don’t wanna share you.”

“You don’t have to, baby. I’m yours.” you reason, threading your fingers into his hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“I know, that’s why it’s dumb. I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you or anything. I just didn’t like seeing him touch you like that.”

You hum, resting your face on his head. His legs are tangled up with yours as he pecks your neck.

“He was just drunk. I’m sorry though, bubby. I didn’t think it would happen.”

His head pops up suddenly, his brows furrowed as he shoots you a confused look. Your eyebrows raise, confused by his sudden movement.

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything,” he blurts, concern lacing his soft voice. “I’m the jealous asshole boyfriend. I should be the sorry one.”

You giggle at his serious tone, smacking his bare shoulder lightly, “whatever,”

“Seriously! I shouldn’t be jealous. I trust you completely. I just got a weird vibe. I don’t know,” he trails off at the end, laying his head back down in your neck.

“I know you do. I love you more than anything and there’s nothing on this earth that could ever take me from you.”

He smiles against your skin, cheeks warming up immediately.

“I love you. Forever.” he murmurs, lifting his head to press a kiss to your lips.

“I love you too. Forever.”

The moment slows again, your bodies resting against the other. The conversation shifts, the two of you decided there was nothing to really talk about. You know he trusts you, and you know he’s not truly jealous. He just got a little territorial and you couldn’t blame him.

“So, what happened to that ribbon you used to tie my hands?” you giggle, switching the conversation.

His eyebrows raise at your question and he blushes, getting worried that you didn’t enjoy it. It wasn’t the first time you’d done anything like that but he still got a tinge of worry.

“Um, I just wanted to feel you,” he slowly states, “w-was it okay?”

“Mmm more than okay. So sexy,” you giggle, stroking his hair. “Just thought you’d use it again.”

“Maybe I will sometime,” he hums, dressing your neck with kisses.

His kisses trail your skin lazily, “Mine.”

“Yours.”

#Shawn Mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfiction

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fandomsfeelsandfanfics · 5 years ago

Text

The Arrangement, Part IV/// Draco Malfoy x Reader

SUMMARY: Draco tries to include you into more of his life as he invites you to hang out with his friends. But that goes just as well as you’d imagine.

WORD COUNT: roughly 2k

WARNING(S): partying (less partying is coming up soon), so obviously everything that comes with it, pansy parkinson, angst baby

A/N: if yall thought the angst was finally over, think again!

SERIES MASTERLIST | PLAYLIST

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You gave him your address and number that night, telling him to write and call as much as he’d like. You were shocked that he even knew how to use a phone but suddenly, you were talking every day. Sometimes it was just once a day because Draco was busy with something and could only call you late at night but other times you would be talking on and off all day. It could be about how his day was going or something he saw that reminded him of you or just calling to hear your voice or literally nothing at all.

Every time your phone rang, you found yourself jumping to answer it. It was early in the morning but you could hear your phone vibrating against your nightstand so you rolled over and reached out for it. You quickly answered the call and put the phone to your ear.

“Hey,” you mumbled.

“Good morning.” There was a pause. “Hey um...what are you doing later today?” You sat up, rubbing your eyes.

“I don’t know...nothing maybe. Why?”

“It’s been a week since I last saw you. That's seven days too long,” he said sarcastically. You laughed. “I’m serious.” But you could hear him laughing too. “I’m hanging out with some friends tonight and you should come?”

“What friends?” There was another pause.

“Just some old friends from Hogwarts.” You already knew who he was talking about before he even said the names. “Goyle, Blaise...Pansy.”

“No, absolutely not.”

“(Y/N), come on. It’ll be fun.” It definitely wouldn’t be fun. You’d never liked his friends when you were at Hogwarts. Goyle was annoying, Pansy was always trying to come between you two, and Blaise was the best of them but even he was pretentious.

“Draco...”

“Hear me out, we can hang out and go shopping beforehand, we’ll show up together looking hot as hell, and we’ll have a good time, I promise. I miss you.”

“I miss you too but-”

“Then come with me. Pleaseeee.” He drug out the word and soon you both started laughing again.

“Okay...okay.”

“That’s a yes?”

“Fine.”

“Good.” You could almost hear the satisfied smile he had on his face. “I’ll be there to pick you up in a little bit.” There was another pause. “I can’t wait to see you.” He said it quietly but you knew he wanted you to hear it. “Okay, bye.”

You smiled. “Bye, Draco.”

“I don’t like this one.” You turned around in the mirror, trying to find a better angle. But no matter how you looked at it, you just didn’t like it. It was all white and fitted weird. You groaned.

“Come show me.” You pushed the curtain aside, letting Draco look at the dress. “It could be better. Maybe it’ll look better when you’re wearing heels.” He tilted his head to the side.

“I don’t think so.” He looked through a pile of clothes, most of which you’d already tried on. He pulled out a black dress and handed it to you. “Try this one.”

You walked back over to the dressing room and closed the curtain, quickly putting it on. When you were done, you looked at yourself in the mirror. It was short, only coming to about mid-thigh. Just a bit tight. It was strapless but wrapped around your shoulders, stopping just below your collar bone. The sleeves reached all the way down to your wrist.

Suddenly, the curtain opened. You saw Draco in the mirror, looking at you. He walked up behind you slowly, his eyes sweeping up and down your body. “Now this one I like.” You turned around to look at him and he gave you a smile.

He put his hand in yours and made you do a little spin. “This is the one, don’t you think?” You nodded. “You’re gonna look so so good tonight.” You tried not to think about the fact that he was still holding your hand, much longer than necessary. “I’m really glad that you decided to go. It’s going to be fun.” You still weren’t entirely sure that was true.

“Draco...maybe you should just go and you can come to my place and hangout later,” you said hesitantly.

“No, I want you to be there. It’ll be fine. We’re just gonna catch up. We rarely get to hangout any more cause I’m never in town and when I am, it’s never for this long. Nothing bad’s gonna happen, it’s just friends hanging out.” But they weren’t your friends. Especially Pansy. They weren’t going to want to see you tonight.

But you wanted him to be happy so you smiled. “Okay.”

Draco and you walked side by side towards the entrance to the club. He nudged you slightly and you looked up at him. “Are you okay?” You turned away from him so he didn’t have to see the small frown on your lips.

“Yeah,” you said, hoping you sounded more confident in your answer than you truly were. He took a step in front of you, placing his hand your shoulder.

“I know you didn’t want to come but I’m glad you did. It’ll be fine.”

“I know.” He smiled at you and you returned the gesture. He continued to stare at you and for a moment you noticed his eyes flitting down to your lips like he might kiss you.

“Draco.” He suddenly turned around and you both watched his friends approach. Blaise was wearing a black suit, Goyle was wearing a black button up, and Pansy was wearing a black skirt and a black sweater. They all looked great. Well, Pansy, she looked perfect. Not a hair out of place on her head and she was frowning at you.

“Hey, guys,” Draco greeted. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder casually. “You guys remember (Y/N), right?”

Blaise stepped closer to shake your hand. “It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” you replied, taking his hand.

“I didn’t know you two were friends again,” Pansy said dryly. The word friend stung slightly. You hadn't been just friends then and although you didn’t know exactly what you were now, you didn’t think friends was quite the right word. But you didn't let it show.

“Well, we’ve been getting reacquainted since I’ve been in town,” Draco replied. You and Pansy stood there glaring at each other silently. Blaise cleared his throat and everyone turned their attention to him.

“Let’s get inside then.”

It was well into the night and no matter how many times you checked the time, the night just wouldn’t pass fast enough. Pansy’s sarcastic comments and rude glares seemed to never cease. Draco either didn’t notice or didn’t care but either way it was frustrating you.

“Draco, what time is it,” you asked quiet enough so that only he could hear.

“You just asked.” You glared at him until he checked his watch. “11:09.”

Eleven. You'd already been there for two hours and they didn’t show any sign of leaving anytime soon. You sighed. “I’m going to get a drink.”

You stood up and suddenly, Pansy did the same. “I’ll go with you.” She gave you an overexcited smile but you continued to glare at her.

“Great.” You turned in the other direction and began to walk towards the bar. When you arrived you immediately got the bartenders attention and ordered the strongest thing he had.

Pansy arrived, ordering something expensive off the menu. You hoped she wouldn’t say anything while you waited but of course you knew she would. “I think you and Draco are very cute together.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m serious, I’ve always thought you two were cute.”

“We’re not...together. It’s not like that.” You turned your head to look at her and immediately hated the smug look on her face.

“I think Draco wants to be with you though, I think that’s why he brought you here. He was thinking the same thing as I am, ‘how cute’. I think he likes the idea of being in a relationship even more than he likes the person he’s actually in a relationship with. He likes the idea of having someone and being able to show them off. But he gets bored eventually, he always does.” You sighed, turning your eyes back to the shelves full of alcohol.

“Give it a rest, Pansy.”

“He got bored of me, rather recently actually.” You looked back at her. “We were only messing around though so I suppose it wasn’t all that serious. Just a lot of wild, drunk sex. How long has this thing between you and Draco been going on again? Maybe you two will last longer.” She chuckled as if the idea of that were funny.

You clenched your fist. Where was that damn drink? She was still laughing. “I can tell you want to leave but I wouldn’t if I were you. If we get drunk enough, who knows what’ll happen.”

You quickly turned on your heels, walking back over to Draco. That was all you could do to keep yourself from ripping her face off. You felt like you couldn’t breathe or think. You kept running into people at every step, feeling alone in this sea of people. You just wanted to make it to Draco but you didn’t even know what you would do once you got there.

Maybe you would scream at him. Or pull him out of the club by his hair. Or maybe just collapse into his arms. You definitely felt like you could collapse but your anger was keeping you going.

You picked up your pace, finally reaching him. He was laughing at some joke that you must’ve just missed. You put your hand on his shoulders, catching his attention. He looked over his shoulder at you and smiled. “Hey. What took so long?”

“Draco, can we please just go?” Your voice was so quiet, you didn’t even know if he could hear you or not.

“What?”

“Draco,” you said slightly louder.

“(Y/N), you ran off without grabbing your drink.” You turned to see Pansy stumbling up to you. As soon as she reached you, she fell over, spilling your drink all over Draco’s legs. She gasped and he stood up. “I am so so sorry.”

She made a grab for some napkins, got on her knees, and began to wipe up his leg. When she reached his crotch he jumped slightly. “Hey, watch it.” She looked up at him with a smirk and laughed.

“Oh, my bad.” Draco began to laugh too. For a second, you were too shocked to even say anything. Then you turned and began to walk out of the door. You could hear Draco calling you but you couldn’t care less any more.

Once you were outside, you finally felt like you could breath again as the cold air touched your face. You put your face in your hands. You felt a hand on your shoulder and spun around. Draco was standing there with a concerned look on his face.

“What’s wrong with you?” Your eyes widened at him.

“What’s wrong with me? Are you serious?” He looked like he was about to say something but quickly closed his mouth.

“Come on, let’s just go back inside and talk.” He reached for your hand but you moved it before he could touch you.

“I’m not going back inside.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “Draco can we please just go home?”

He paused as if he were considering it. “No...we’re having a good time and all of a sudden you’re freaking out. I thought you were gonna try.”

“We’re not having fun, you’re having fun! You and Pansy. And I have been trying but did you see the way she was talking to me?” He gave you a confused look. “Of course, you didn’t. Merlin, why’d you even bring me here tonight? Just to embarrass me?” Your quivered slightly. You could see how angry he was getting but suddenly he stopped.

His eyes softened and he sighed. “Just go home. We can talk about all of this tomorrow.”

“You aren’t coming with me?” Your eyes were tearing up now. You didn’t want him to see you cry but you couldn’t help it.

“No but-”

“Fine,” you said. You turned around, wiping your tears as you walked away. You were glad that he didn’t try to call your name and reason with you anymore. You were done talking.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

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edwardsvirginity · 5 years ago

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Is it just me or did Edward's looks shift drastically from one movie to another? It seems kinda weird that Edward from twilight is the same Edward in eclipse and bd. The makeup in the latter movies did him no favors really, he was gorgeous in the first movie. Do you think it was intentional to alter his makeup? And why did they not mantain the look of the first movie? Robert Pattinson himself didn't change much looks wise from the first movie to the last. It seems like no one notices this (1/2)

...or talks about it much lol. Also could you pls tell me what site are you watching the movie on with your friend? (2/2)

So I think that in twilight, since it was an indie film, edward’s styling was more minimal... he was meant to look sort of boyish and handsome, sure, but to some extent... sort of “real”? like a pretentious high schooler with a jawline sharp enough to use in battle, but still sort of believable as a person at home in a high school cafeteria. to me, this is the most authentic edward, because edward in the books is fun and sassy and somewhat down to earth (even if he is overbearing). i think they probably also didn’t have the budget to do anything dramatic with his styling.

but then the movie was an overnight smash hit and the next movies had these HUGE budgets and people suddenly realized edward was this heartthrob... and i think there was this effort to make edward this sort of... idk... Everything Boyfriend. The Marty Stu of boyfriends. he had to be serious and masculine enough to appeal to the large contingent of soccer mom fans, otherworldly enough to make the monsterfuckers happy, dark enough to appease the emo girls. his styling became a lot older and more masculine, and i DO think that was intentional. it might also have been an attempt to make him more appealing to (potential) male fans-- and you can see the movies attempting to court a male audience, in the way they focus so much on the battles and war-like drama and honestly so little on tender romantic moments or lighthearted cullen shenanigans. plus, arguably, the way they cast the wolf pack and had them parading around shirtless all the time and tearing apart vampires was much more “male power fantasy” and less “female romantic daydream”. so i think that edward became more serious and masculine in both writing and styling in later movies to court that male audience (and counter his floofy, girly, sparkly, “gay” image) and honestly it’s a shame. it was the sassy, lighthearted edward of the books that the audience really fell in love with (and adored about the first movie-- -everyone loves the edward jumping on bella’s car scene, the “is the even italian scene”, the “cat” scene, and the whole first movie more than the rest) so it was disappointing to see later directors abandon that in favor of a supposedly more universally appealing, masculine, dark edward. but i like pretty boys, so i’m biased.

i will say, there are 2 edward styling decisions that i will never forgive slade or condon for and they are 1- edward’s sideburns in eclipse (g r o s s and weird and plot-inconsistent) and 2- edward’s makeup at the wedding-- honestly he looks deathly ill to me, insanely pale with these bright red lips that look like he’s just been coughing up blood, and i don’t even know what was going on with his eyes. the whole thing is just hideous.

my friend and i are watching movies on twoseven.xyz -- it’s been working really well for us! if one of you has a file of the movie you want to watch, the other person can stream it from you, and it’s the only site i’ve found that allows that and consistently works. but i also physically gave my friend all my twilight movie files (yay SD cards) so it’s often less glitchy if you both have the same file and the site can just sync it. (with other friends, i have us both torrent the same file to save time) but i really like the site and it’s been working great for us, and you can chat while you watch the movie (via message, audio, or video), and either of you can pause/rewind/whatever the movie and that’s pretty much all we need lol. and it’s free, which is important bc my broke ass doesn’t like paying for shit.

#asks #anon #Anonymous

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skamamoroma · 5 years ago

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Episode 3: Wtfock S3

(Sorry for the lack of Read More - it ain’t working!)

That opening shot of Robbe lying awake, uncomfortable, arms crossed over himself as Noor holds onto him is pretty heartbreaking. There’s no comfort there, no resting into the moment or anything of the sort. He’s even checking the time...! The fact that he sneaks out to be alone and chooses to sit, isolated at 8am on a cold beach rather than be in that bed makes me clutch my heart. That’s discomfort at its very finest. I love that in his quiet moments he thinks of his mamma and even if he doesn’t reach out this time, he always thinks of her. She’s always on his mind and the way he writes to her is so sweet and full of genuine love. You get these little glimpses into the truth of his heart and he’s such a sweetheart.

And after the disconnect and the isolation and anger and pretending, he goes from being completely alone to walking directly into Sander’s path and it’s JARRING but in the best possible way. I never realised this before but Sander’s weird ass role play (I love him so) is the first time we see Robbe genuinely flustered. He looks snapped out of himself and I hadn’t realised it till now quite how much of a whirlwind Sander was. He always felt like one but seeing it like this really makes you realise how much Sander changed for Robbe in an instant. You really get to feel what Robbe feels. This ‘oh my god there’s a handsome cool looking guy talking to me and he’s making jokes and shaking my hand and telling me to go with him’... Sander feels strange and yet weirdly familiar but I just love so much that Robbe has no idea who Sander is or why he’s suddenly in their accommodation but follows him anyway.

That passiveness really pays off for him (!) but, most importantly, I can’t get over the difference between THIS Robbe and the Robbe I know he becomes.

Sander’s “come” is legendary at this point but it really hammers home Robbe’s passiveness. The difference here is that we see Robbe actually giving it a moment’s thought and he still goes through with it. The supermarket scene was always so fun but OH MY GOD I didn’t realise how jarring it is - again! Robbe is smiling and giggling and being silly and FLIRTING. It’s a total joy and it’s the first time we see any of that in any genuine form from him. Willem H nails that far away swoony kind of look because Robbe looks kind of mesmerised by Sander for the most part... this total whirlwind of a human.

It’s so funny because I also never realised how much Sander seems like he’s trying to impress before. Knowing Sander as we do now, he’s like a peacock! He’s overly showy, overly cool and edgy, overly mischievous and his whole “name three Bowie songs” kills me. So pretentious! 😂

Ok I’m only minutes in and there’s SO MUCH TO SAY. I’m always obsessed with that moment when Sander hears Rebel Rebel because Robbe loses his shit. Sander is kind of overwhelming and a little too much but Robbe still feels able to stare at him like THAT. Robbe is all kinds of not coping...!

The whole sequence from then is when I think we see Robbe most comfortable so far. He’s interested, smiley, keeps leaning forward on the shopping trolley, he’s soft and genuine and engaged. I can’t get over how quickly it happened around Sander. And Sander is still being this over amped version of himself. It’s so funny seeing it this way because you definitely get this feeling Sander is showing off... and we know exactly why but it’s so adorable. We know Sander and he ain’t as suave as he appears here. The fact that Robbe just listens and listens and listens though. He’s... interested. How much that must have meant to Sander at the time!

I’m completely smitten with how they just instantly connect. Sander’s all chatty and silly and enthused opposite a softly spoken, enamoured Robbe who smiles so genuinely. Knowing Sander really liked Robbe before he met him properly makes this whole moment so much sweeter because Robbe is so LOVELY. I swear the noises he makes during this sequence are some of the cutest noises I’ve heard any human make 🥰 It’s like Sander gets so swept up though. From then on it’s all playful spinning and messing around and shopping trolley races... I really think Sander was just entirely wrapped up in the moment and in how nice it felt to connect with this guy he likes.

For Robbe though, for his story, this scene feels like a metaphorical firecracker. Everything feels shaken up and brought to life again. It’s so well done when you watch it as a whole.

The cut from the chaos to the little cramped kitchen and Noor feels a little jarring but it’s meant to. Suddenly, Robbe isn’t in this bubble anymore, he’s back into his reality but the funny thing is that his reality feels different to the viewer now. Sander is still holding a major presence and I LOVE how that’s reinforced by the fact that Sander kicks everyone out of the kitchen...! He’s like “nope, just Robbe and I are allowed” and pretty much ensures he gets quality one on one time. He doesn’t mess about!

This whole sequence is so precious though. We’ve seen Robbe not respond well to touch in quite a few ways but Sander is so close to him and you can feel Robbe’s head and heart spinning. He’s so sweet in his moment. He can’t stop staring at Sander, is listening to intently and Sander just looks completely smitten.

I think my favourite thing is that this is the first time someone asks Robbe something about himself. We don’t even see Noor doing that. People have enquired about how he is but nobody so far in the season has really asked him fun interesting things about himself and poor Robbe doesn’t even have an answer. Says kind of wistfully that’s he doesn’t have traditions. I love that it doesn’t stop Sander and he shares a lot of little personal bits of information freely, clearly WANTING Robbe to know him.

This little moment almost feels choreographed! Robbe’s little crouch leading into Sander’s eye roll at Robbe’s adorable uselessness, then the reaching around one another and gentle brushes against each other... the way Sander allow himself to touch Robbe’s back in such an affectionate way as he steps away and the way Robbe can’t stop staring as Sander licks the joint...you can feel that little swarm of butterflies in both of them. It’s the loveliest.

Sander is so dorky too. I love that they threw that in there like Skam Fr did with Eliott early on. With other Evens we had to wait a little bit Sander is full on dancing and pretending ketchup makes any meal healthy!

He’s much more relaxed and himself in this moment and I like to think it’s because Robbe is so lovely. He’s this gentle soul and Sander looks endlessly smitten with him so kind of eases into being more authentic and calm around him. I think it’s what makes him so intent on doing anything to make Robbe smile or look flustered... even down to feeding him. You can FEEL how soft Sander is for Robbe’s sweet ways so early on. I bet he couldn’t believe the boy he liked from afar was so lovely in person.

When Britt arrives, you can see that flicker in Sander’s eyes. Regret. He doesn’t want Robbe to see this and doesn’t want to leave the moment and then the rest of the episode forces that distance so enormously that you feel that pull to have them in close proximity again because it’s all space and distance and antagonism from Sander’s rocky relationship with Britt. Sander looks a little rigid and unhappy and Robbe is existing in some perpetual carousel of pretending while pining and feeling so uncomfortable about the whole thing. It’s a little exhausting to watch but it feels like that’s exactly the point. You WANT it to be different but you feel what Robbe no doubt felt...

It’s only heightened by his frustration with his friends. He shows his friends moments of kindness and then keeps being “rewarded” by being left out, unseen and goaded. It feels so unfair and it’s little wonder Robbe loses his temper. His mind is mangled and he has no release at all because he’s stuck in this one isolated place facing all of it over and over again. It feels stifling and it’s little wonder that Robbe gets drunk and a little sloppy. What makes their version of Call Your Girlfriend so great is that it’s at the end of the week and that distance feels huge... so they close it in their minds. It’s kind of urgent and charged and desperate with this added edge to it and I love that it’s their way of being together without being together. That kissing through someone else feels like the purpose here whereas the og and other remakes had their own spin!

The fact the episode ends with the morning scene makes me giddy... I hadn’t realised how much of a whirlwind this week was!

Aside from Sander’s “let me having my coffee, woman!” face, the entire last scene is Sander saying SCREW THE DISTANCE, I want him back near me. The engineering Robbe to help him, the stepping close to Robbe and the opening up about feeling unable to be loved for who he is... Sander keeps his eyes on Robbe the entire time, always checking his reaction and it’s like the week tried to keep that distance and it only sought to make them want the quiet close connection even more. It feels like such a MOMENT for Sander. He might seem bold but you can see the vulnerability in his eyes, Willem DS is so wonderful at that.

The fact that the moment ends with them moving closer in an almost kiss is near god damn poetic!

But the special part is the way Robbe effectively explains the unspoken reality of the entire week. Sander arrived as a stranger, Robbe arrived as an isolated and kind of broken guy. They end the week weirdly connected and it worked... Sander came along and met new people and Robbe stands there and for the first time is allowing himself to say, a little cryptically, that there’s something there and he recognises it too.

Ugh. The whole episode is a total whirlwind and it ends on a moment that flips everything over once more. You feel so shaken up and like Robbe is feeling a little more alive but a whole lot more confused!

#wtfock #please say the read more worked because this is HUGE #thoughts etc #robbe ijzermans #wtfock episode thoughts

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