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sukirichi · 4 years ago

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earned it [06]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. attempted murder and suicide, angst ig i feel nothing at this point because NAOYA 😭

notes. i’m rolling with the earned it jokes that reader is shippable with everyone so HAH enjoy this chapter because I didn’t enjoy the last LMAO (IM SO EXCITED FOR TOJI TO APPEAR!)

series masterlist

Your muscles throbbed, the pounding of your heart felt even through your skin. You’ve spent hours in the training room, taking punch by punch, landing blow by blow – yet no matter how hard you tried, you kept falling on your ass. At this point, your backside was beyond sore, skin drenched with sweat and clothes sticking uncomfortably to the surface. Meanwhile, your ‘savior’ barely felt the need to catch his breath, instead gazing down at you with disappointment written all over his face.

“Why do you expect so much from me?” you panted, fists clenched on the mat. “Didn’t you tell me you just needed me to get your money back and that’s it? I didn’t ask for you to do anything so stop telling me I’m indebted to you all the time.”

Naoya clicked his tongue, clearly disappointed by your lack of resolve. Above you, he swept up his cane and finally balanced himself. You previously thought he didn’t struggle because he looked so calm and composed, easily overpowering you even with his injury, but his lips were strained, jaw clenched tight that perhaps he was just good at concealing his pain. It made you shut up and watch his every move; his back faced you – probably to hide whatever fleeting moment of vulnerability he had.

“I won’t always be there to save your sorry life,” he said calmly, “You need to learn how to be strong on your own no matter how tough it gets. Now if you’ll keep complaining instead of finishing your training, I could happily lock you up and force you to do my dirty work for me.”

“Then why don’t you go ahead?!”

“I don’t want to,” Naoya responded without missing a beat. He easily closed the distance with a few staggered steps, his head tilted to the side as he surveyed you.

You wondered what went through his mind. Did he see a weak woman? A woman who must be so helpless, so useless that you stayed there, legs too tired and muscles aching too much you couldn’t move? There was no telling with Naoya, and his guarded gaze didn’t help either. Satoru had always been difficult to read at most, but with Naoya – it was practically impossible.

Even as he cupped your chin and twisted it sideways, his eyes narrowed over all your features like he saw something you didn’t, he was too guarded.

“I need you in taking down Gojo Satoru. In order to accomplish that, I have to use his weakness against him. You showing up won’t be enough. No, I want to hurt him…and what better way than to take what was once his, right? Dangle right in front of his eyes what he let go of, make him regret his actions?” his smile turned dark, and for the first time since you’ve met him, you got a glance of what his heart really looked like.

It wasn’t true that Naoya was heartless – no, he just had a dark, sinister heart that didn’t beat the same tune as others. He played his own music with the bones of his enemies, drinking their lifeline from a gold cup and drowning in them, his ominous laughter the perfect antithetical melody of what could’ve been angelic hums.

“Don’t you want that?”

His question made your heart skipped a beat. This whole time, you’ve been so hell bent on achieving something, but what you wanted to reach had never been clear. You were too driven by emotions, by the pain Satoru’s absence had caused, and now that the opportunity was presented before you, you faltered.

“I don’t know what I want.”

“Well, if you ask me what I want…” he tilts your chin up with his finger “It would be to see you strong enough that even you would be capable of taking me down. So be strong, keep fighting – I’ll be there with you every step of the way. You only have one job, and that is to live. I am not allowing you to give up at the slightest of minor inconveniences.”

“And if I get weak?” you questioned with an oscillating tremor, the bite of his cold skin against your heated ones spiking. “If I want to give up? Would I fail you then?”

“I don’t think you’re someone who cares about failing others, so don’t fret whether you’d please me or not,” Just like that, Naoya’s scornful tone had risen again. He let go of you until you dropped down to your palms, blinking back at the sudden change of atmosphere. “Like I said, just do what you need to do, keep going. Don’t look back or be afraid to take the next big step because I’ll always be there right beside you.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“I’m not asking you to, princess,” he snickered, already half way to the door that only he was allowed to go in. Even though you’ve been staying in his manor for quite some time, there were still some things Naoya didn’t trust you with, leaving you only more curious to find out the secrets within.

“Only time will tell. But once you’ve made your decision, know that my ring is always waiting beside your table,” his voice echoed through the large room, stopping in his tracks to look at you once more. This time, he had no haunting features, only the cold emptiness likened to staring back to an infinite void of nothingness.

“I expect an answer when I get home.”

You still remembered the day you decided to wear his ring. Naoya had come then, tired and aggravated from matters he didn’t bother explaining. You stood on his doorway, lips shut tight as you nervously fiddled with your ring, unsure if whether you should tell him or allow him to piece the puzzle himself.

Thankfully, Naoya was a lot more observant than you gave him credit for.

His eyes slid over your face before he followed the motion of your fingers, smirking as the jewel glinted under the bright lights of his home. Wise choice, he’d once told you, and you believed it.

Your life hadn’t been the same ever since. Your spontaneous marriage equated to hellish training of perfecting your image as his trophy wife, spending hours in his secret laboratory and discussing business plans through a glass of wine. Naoya wasn’t around much to teach you everything and it pained him to be your own trainer too so you had to ask help from his guards, refusing to give up and fall down even as your muscles screamed at you to take a break. For Naoya, with Naoya, giving up and running away felt like a myth; a buried solution in the past that should never be brought up again. But now that he was gone, you did exactly that.

You’d given up. Satoru had made you run away.

“Miss,” a deep voice cut you from your thoughts. You tore your gaze away from the glowing night city of Milan to turn to Satoru’s right hand man, the tall figure looming rather shyly instead of imposingly. “You haven’t eaten since we got here. Would you like anything? Mr. Gojo will cover your expenses.”

“I want to go home.”

He froze at your deadpan statement. Finally meeting your gaze under his lashes, Geto pursed his lips. “You know we can’t do that, Miss. It’s unsafe back in Japan.”

“And who’s to say Toji won’t follow us here?” you snapped, pushing your weight off the Cleopatra set and uncrossing your legs. “Why can’t your stupid boss just activate the account and give it back to us? I think we’ve made it clear we’re more than capable of handling our finances, and I’m pretty sure Satoru doesn’t need any more money when he can afford all this.”

“Mr. Gojo…has his reasons for everything he does.”

You laughed bitterly. Maybe it was the fact that Satoru had left this morning for whatever business he had that you didn’t have anyone else to let your anger out to that you’d swiped your gun under your thigh holster and dashed his way.

Geto’s back slammed against the wall, the cool barrel of your gun pressed to his jaw. He swallowed nervously, eyes darting to your weapon, and you laughed heartlessly. “Oh, please, do tell because nothing makes sense,” you crooned, flipping the safety off and letting your heated gaze meet his rather docile ones. You almost felt bad for him. Almost.

“I could easily put a bullet through your head and hijack his plane. I’ll be gone before you know it and who’s to stop me from doing that? Why should I stay here any longer with you?”

“Because your husband asked you to,” Geto responded softly. You stepped back with wide eyes, yesterday’s event crashing all over you once again. He must’ve sensed you no longer held any hostility because he used his pointer finger to move the barrel away from him, gently peeling your hands off his suit. “Because you know, if you go back to Japan, there will be nothing waiting for you there.”

You balled your fists. “I will kill Fushiguro Toji myself. Then I’ll kill Satoru.”

“Even if he used to be your lover?”

“Especially because he used to be my lover.”

Okay…maybe your plan of escaping and returning to Japan hadn’t worked out that well. Exhaustion finally crept up to your senses that you passed out not long after attacking Geto – who reassured you to no end he wasn’t mad you tried to kill him – and days have passed ever since. You hated to admit it, but being stuck in an overseas hotel wasn’t so bad. Geto’s presence was a lot more comforting than his master’s that you didn’t mind having him watch your every move. Plus, he was really nice to immediately follow your every whim. You wanted hot chocolate? Extra pillows? A really expensive wine that you refused to pay for because you were petty and dramatic? He provided it all without question.

Except he probably should have, because you’d stripped off to your underwear, head tipped back to take one final swig of the nearly empty bottle as you slid deeper into the tub.

Your fiery nature of rolling your eyes at Satoru every time he came around (which was rare, for some reason) couldn’t fool anyone – not even yourself. The moment Geto retired to the living room, you would bite the pillows to muffle your cries, thinking back to when Naoya was still alive. It was an endless torment of what if you had stayed, what if you had pushed the rubble off him, what if you just saved him?

Would he still be alive? Would he have survived? Would you be back with him in the Zen’in Estate instead of holding your breath under the tub in a desperate attempt to conceal your tears?

It hurt so bad. It hurt everywhere.

Your lungs begged you to rise up and breathe, but you stayed still under the water, eyes shut tight and hands clenched around the tub’s edges so hard your knuckles turned white. Soon, you grew dizzy and your grip slipped away. Finally, fucking finally, you were falling, falling way too deep that your legs bent inside the tub. Bubbles erupted from your lips in one last breath. At the back of your mind, you let out a sincere laugh for you’d meet your husband soon. He’d be disappointed, probably scold you all the way to the afterlife – until strong arms pulled you out of the tub and into someone’s chest instead.

“Shit, what are you doing?! You could’ve drowned!”

You coughed out water and fisted Satoru’s button-up shirt that had now clung to his skin from the water. Looking around you, you were still very much alive, the uncomfortable twisting of your heart a painful reminder of that. Above you, Satoru sat you in his lap while he remained cross-legged on the floor, muttering curses under his breath as he wrapped a towel around you.

Scoffing, you pushed his hands away, though you kept the towel anyway to lessen your shivering. Why the fuck was the AC so damn strong here?

“Dying seems like a better option, don’t you think?” you snarled at him, teeth chattering from the chill that had begin to seep in.

Momentarily, you worried on how much of a hot mess you probably looked like. Smudged eyeliner, wine-stained lips, unbrushed hair and remnants of the wine mixing with the once clear bath water – you shook your head at the thought and glared at Satoru.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“I was out contacting friends to ask for help. We’re going to need a hundred pairs of eyes watching anywhere that Toji could possibly come through.”

“Is this your pathetic idea of ‘keeping me safe’? Locking me up in this stupid hotel and having your man watch me all the time?” you pushed yourself off him, the sudden motion of standing up giving you wobbly legs. Satoru reached over to steady you but you slapped his hand away, your glare warning him to not take another step.

Seeing his face, seeing him worried as if he didn’t just cause your life to turn into absolute hell, you wanted to grab the wine bottle and smash it right at his pretty face. He had no right to look at you with pity.

You hated him, utterly and terribly despised this man with your entire being.

“What are you really planning, Satoru? Why can’t we just come back home and attack Toji with all we’ve got? Why don’t you just give back our fucking money so we can end all this for once and for all and I can leave?!”

“Because I don’t have the money!”

“What?”

“The money…” Satoru’s back slid off the wall, his palm coming up to thread through his hair. He sounded weak, defeated. “I don’t have it.”

“Gojo,” you snatched him by the collar, teeth bared as you demanded, “What do you mean you don’t have it?”

Satoru paled. “When I stole the money from the Zen’ins, the figures were all fake. They’re not real, there’s no actual money hidden behind their accounts and it was too late before I realized that,” his lips trembled as he continued, “Whatever Toji placed in there, it’s not his actual account where he hides everything and it would make sense too because I stole it too easily – almost as if they wanted me to take it. A few hacks here and there and it was immediately wired to me but after meeting you…” Satoru shook his head, chin dropped down low. “I checked again and the account never existed. It’s a fake one. The digits are just there for show.”

“So then why would Toji want it? Why did my husband have to die for nothing?!”

“I don’t know, okay, I don’t know anything!” he argued back until your faces grew closer, his nose brushing with yours.

Somehow, you couldn’t pull away. His knees had drawn up, forcing you to rest on his thighs as you both breathed heavily, your grip on his collar almost havered.

“Whatever the Zen’ins are hiding, that’s beyond me. I may be in the business for far longer than they have, but they have always been notorious with their possessions that I’m not surprised even I can’t find where it really leads back to. Whatever Toji is hiding there, your husband must’ve known something about it. Why else would they fight tooth and bone over it?”

“If there was, Naoya would’ve told me about it.”

“He would if he trusted you,” Satoru suddenly grabbed your wrist and shook it until you stared at your ring. “How are you even so sure he could trust you with that information? Have you forgotten you’re just a pawn to his game and you’re nothing but a bed warmer?”

“Don’t you ever speak about us that way. You don’t know how much he cared for me.”

“If he really did, then why didn’t he tell you why his cousin is after you? He’s using you as bait, Y/N. I’m not the bad guy here. That man you’re so deeply in love with? I can’t guarantee he’s better than me. We’re all men in the mafia, love is the last thing we would care about.”

You pushed yourself off him.

His words stung too much, not because it was a lie, but because you know there was some sort of truth ringing behind it. You trudged out of the bathroom and sat on the bed, unstirred by the fact you dripped all over the carpeted floor. From behind you, Satoru’s rushed footsteps echoed, but you didn’t care. You simply threw on a robe with your back turned to him.

“And you’d know that better than everyone right? Considering how easy it was for you to leave me?” When Satoru didn’t respond, you chuckled humorlessly and sat on the bed. “What Naoya and I had…it was a friendship that healed my soul. I don’t…I don’t know what to do without him.”

“Friendship?”

You smiled sadly. “I wasn’t actually in love with him, idiot. Men like Naoya don’t know what love is, but he sure does know how to protect family.”

The notion of talking about him, of accepting that maybe he really was gone…somewhat reliving.

Satoru was the last person you wanted to talk to your late husband about, but Geto – which is the much better company – wasn’t around, and you hugged your knees to yourself, refusing to let Satoru see through your vulnerability.

“You know, I trusted him more than I did myself. He was always there for me, no matter what. His soul was dark, angry, corrupted – he’s not the man I would fall for, but despite all that, he was the friend I needed,” you buried your face in your knees, voice muffled as you cried, your heart shattering again and again and again.

The ring on your finger had never felt so heavy ever since you wore it.

“I loved him as much as I hated you.”

Satoru was silent, so much so that you wondered if he was even in the same room at all. You sat there crying, too hopeless to even try to conceal it anymore. Shivering, you close your eyes and forced the image of Naoya’s last moments away from your memories, desperately praying to whoever had mercy that you could just forget all about it.

“Geto told me you tried to kill him,” Satoru murmured after a beat, “You could’ve easily escaped and went back to Japan if you wanted to, so why didn’t you? Was it because of me?”

You remembered what you tried to do today.

Just like that, Naoya was alive once more. You were brought back to the day of your wedding when he’d clasped your sweaty, clammy hands in his, rubbing some warmth in them before pressing a kiss at the top of your knuckles. He’d asked you to promise him something then – an entire contrast from his constants orders over your well-being – and it was a promise you’d momentarily forgotten; a promise you’d broken out of mourning.

“Naoya once told me,” you reminisced through dry, cracked lips and even more shattered heart, the picture of his disappointment as clear as day. “Death was the only place he can go where he would never allow me to follow.”

It took a lot, but it somehow got better. After allowing yourself a faint moment of weakness where Naoya resurfaced in your mind to remind you of our promise and your purpose, you felt stronger, somewhat steadier with each step you took. You were still wary around Satoru, although that was a given.

His friend, Geto, was really nice, on the other hand, and you couldn’t explain why you always lowered your guard around the formal dark-haired assistant.

You and Geto were playing chess when Satoru barged in out of nowhere, a plate and a syrup condenser on his hand. “So I got you breakfast,” was his greeting, nodding at Geto once as a silent order to give you two privacy. You pouted as the latter left, but soon your attention had been diverted to the heavenly aroma filling in your senses. Seeing your approval, Satoru hid a smile behind his dark sunglasses. “Still like pancakes?”

“Trying to get into my good graces now?”

“I’m just trying to cheer you up.”

You rolled your eyes but snatched the plate from him anyway. “So I talked to my lawyer,” you begun, pouring syrup all over the fluffy bread until it was almost spilling to the sides. Beside you, Satoru’s snickers were barely muffled, to which you ignored wholeheartedly. “They’ve already processed my inheritance over Naoya’s possessions and assets. Once we return to Japan, I’ll be the next leader of the Zen’in Clan, much to the disappointment of his elders, of course, but they can’t do anything about it,” you informed him with your fork hanging in mid-air, the words falling thickly. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“That we’re back to being enemies?”

You offered him a sarcastic smile. “Naoya lied about strengthening his alliance with your family. He doesn’t actually give a fuck about you.”

“I figured that much,” he snickered to himself, shifting his weight until his elbows rested on his thighs. “Listen…a friend of mine is flying to Milan tonight to meet us. They have strong connections with banks all over the world and they brought in some information about that hidden Zen’in account. I think we’re finally getting off to somewhere and finding out what really is in there,” Satoru gauged for your reaction, but you kept eating – more like stuffing the pancakes inside your mouth for you were finally free of having to act perfect without your husband.

Satoru’s hand landed on top of yours. “I promise…I’ll give it back to right where it belongs. As soon as it’s wired back to you, I’m setting you free.”

You stared at the unwanted figure over you, and you snatched your hand back, waving a bread knife below his lashes. “You can’t set me free when I was never yours,” you sang breathily, the tip of the blade hovered right at his lips. Satoru raised a brow at you, but you quickly retrieved the knife back with widened eyes. “Now that you mention it…I think Naoya told me something about his family stashing secret weapons and even heirlooms through offshore accounts and buried under islands. He was a little sleepy during that time but I remember it,” pushing the plate away from you as you lost your appetite, you clutched your palms under your chin in thought. “He said he was looking for something he lost as a child, possibly an heirloom.”

“He’s doing all this for heirlooms?” Satoru immediately coughed his words back when you glared at him, raising his hands in surrender. “I mean, I was just saying. I didn’t think he was a sentimental type of guy.”

“The question here is what both Toji and Naoya could’ve both wanted from that account. It’s not just an heirloom, obviously there’s something there worth more than money,” You argued and slapped your knees, heading straight to your (unfortunately) shared room. “Whatever. I’ll get this over with as soon as I get the money back.”

Satoru, as always, was hot on your heels. It annoyed you how he trailed over you like some sort of puppy or shadow – Naoya had always been too classy to not give you space.

The difference between them just kept getting more and more uncannily obvious.

“Whoa there, stop. Did you really think I’d give back the money to you and that’s it? Are you forgetting the fact Toji is out there to kill you just so he can have his hands on it?”

“He can have the money for all I fucking care,” you shrugged and sat on your bed, scrolling through numerous piles of emails and records that Naoya entrusted you to keep. Surely you could find something. “I just need to find whatever Naoya’s spent his whole life killing for.”

“Why don’t you care about the money? Didn’t Naoya expect you to take over his business?”

Your thumb froze over a file. Suddenly, your throat grew dry, and you quickly flashed Satoru a stinky eye. “I-it’s not my main concern.”

“It’s not safe for you. If Toji finds out—”

Got it. You bookmarked an email Naoya had forwarded you around three years ago and resent it to an old friend, pocketing the phone back to your pyjamas before Satoru could see. “I’ll handle it. I’ve been doing well so far before you came into our lives again,” you finalized, stopping for a bit as you waited for that all-too familiar footfall matching with yours, only for the room to be coated in silence.

Satoru stood there on the other side of the room, eyes deep in thought before he sighed. “I’ll meet you at the hotel restaurant tonight. We have a lot to discuss on what our next move should be,” nodding once, Satoru left the room.

The hotel room was eerily silent.

Dinner came around faster than you expected. With Geto out to run some errands for Satoru, something about ‘establishing bases’ or whatever, you were locked in your room, using Naoya’s black card to get enough amount of clothing to last you for your stay here. Even though Satoru had promised he’d take care of everything, you didn’t want to be in his debt for any longer. You weren’t his, you were Naoya’s, and you shot down his curious looks when heaps of shopping bags had been delivered to your door.

An hour later, you left the room, struggling to zipper the back of your dress. Satoru was already in the living room buttoning up his suit jacket, just as handsome as ever (though you’d never tell him that.)

His hands froze in the last button once his eyes landed on you, and you huffed at him, too distressed to even act cute or bothered while pointing to your dress. Satoru strode to you in three long steps, his cold fingers brushing against the dip of your spine when he clutched on the zipper.

You had to bite your lip down to prevent the shivers from spilling through, his lips dangerously close to your ear as he whispered, “You look great.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

If Satoru was bothered by the lack of sincerity in your voice, he didn’t comment on it. He removed his hands from you and watched as you slipped black velvet gloves through your arms – just in case you had to end up killing someone; leaving fingerprints was a risk you couldn’t take.

“Did you really get dressed to kill?”

“I came here to negotiate,” you corrected, “I’ll do everything I can to find out whatever’s behind that offshore account. And you, sir,” Frowning at him, you pulled Satoru closer by the tie, perhaps a little too harshly since he nearly knocked his head with yours. He was quick to steady himself as you fixed his tie, flattening it down with your fingers. “You need to know where you should stick your nose in. This is more my business than yours so don’t get in my way acting all hero and shit. I assure you I can handle myself.”

“You’re really going to berate me for worrying about you?”

“You can no longer worry about me,” you disclosed, snatching your black purse from the counter before doing the come hither motion at his shock-still figure. “Now let’s go. We have a case to crack.”

“Case to crack? You sure sound like a detective.”

You snickered, but made no further comment. The elevators dinged and you arrived at the restaurant, which you really regretted not visiting soon enough because the place was grand. Red carpeted floors, golden chandeliers, soft jazz music playing in the background as the lights dimmed down low, the faint clinking of utensils against plates and light chatter of the guests so heartbreakingly nostalgic.

It seemed that even after his death, Naoya had every intention to never leave your side. The setting reminded you too much of your never-ending late night fancy dinners.

Naoya being Naoya, he didn’t blink twice in flaunting his money and renting out entire restaurants all for himself, claiming that he just ‘wanted to have an intimate moment with his wife.’ Sure, it mostly consisted of you discussing what move you should make next, but it was the most affectionate gesture you’ve received after spending years in the quiet and cold environment of the Zen’in Estate.

The outside world wasn’t any better when you and Naoya were marked as targets by the entire government, so it made sense, that only with him that you’d find comfort in.

You must be so out of it you never even noticed Satoru leading you to your seat, a warm meal that should’ve been comforting right under your nose. It was too much – too similar that you headed straight for the wine, ignoring Satoru’s questioning gaze. You noticed from the corner of his eye that he opened his mouth too many times in an attempt to make light conversation, but this dinner wasn’t for you to rekindle your old flame.

No, you were here to wait for his ‘friend’ and review important matters. You were determined to fulfill that purpose alone and only that alone that you never once made eye contact with him, even standing up to reach the salt shaker near him instead of asking him to pass it.

Just as you leaned back to your seat, the music grew louder. A foreign man walked to the stage where he was basked in the spotlight, all heads turning to him when he tapped the microphone, sending little echoes all over the hall. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s loosen up tonight with a drink and bring our lovers out here on the dance floor,” he sang while swaying side to side, snapping his fingers to the beat that had turned into calming to sensual. “It is a fine evening, isn’t it? Come on, don’t be shy, the night is still so young!”

You dropped your fork beside the plate. “Did you know about this?”

“I swear, I had no idea.”

“Those two attractive lovers in table 42, the dance floor is still much too spacious!”

“Pretty vulgar for a five star hotel,” you commented under your breath and dabbed the pasta sauce off your lips with a napkin, slapping it down the table as you stood up – much to Satoru’s surprise who’d tried to make himself invisible from the host’s eyes. Stupid him; did he really think he could blend in with his sunglasses and snow white hair?

If you were to be honest, you’d rather choke on shrimp than dance with him, but you had an image to upkeep. If you couldn’t gather with the crowd and pretend to be one with others, both your true natures would be fished out even with innocent eyes. You were left with no choice but to be comfortable in the dance floor, sighing deeply as you placed your hands down on Satoru’s wide shoulders. He furrowed his brows at you but said nothing else; strong, cautious hands sliding down from your back before they settled at the curve of your hips.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Mister. I won’t hesitate to stab a fork through your jugular right here.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I know you’re not my little angel anymore.”

Angel. It was what he used to call you back then – when you were still but an innocent, naïve being who never believed in monsters until you fell for one.

He was right; you were no longer his angel. The woman he loved had been left abandoned in the street, the purity of her soul tainted with anger and heartbreak that soon bathed in blood and the need for revenge. His angel was no more – the woman he danced with was nothing but a replica of the face and body he adored the most. Now, you danced with him, not as his angel and neither as his rival’s wife, but simply as a woman whose kindness had long vanished into thin air.

Satoru danced with the devil.

And he should be disgusted just as you should be repulsed with how sickeningly smooth and graceful he was in everything he did, but the wine – yes, it was the fucking wine – messed with you that you actually enjoyed it. Your bodies moved in rhythm and syncopated with the beat, the romantic high notes of the violin and the tender embrace of deep trebles like a classical painting coming to life and you were its subjects to be expressed.

Perhaps…you were just sad. You grieved and mourned too much you’d momentarily forgot what love was, in turn making you forget what it felt like to be constantly unsafe and peeking over your shoulder in case someone tried to kill you.

Satoru just felt so warm, so safe and alive that you found your head dipping lower, your muscles relaxing around his soothing and undeniably tender touch, the space between your bodies diminishing until you surrendered to the power of your desire. You were so close, your ear about to press on his chest to listen to the blissful sound of someone’s reassuring heartbeat along with the music, and then you saw him.

A tuft of blonde hair, a chiseled face, a nude cream suit and a deep blue shirt beneath – what the fuck was he doing here?

The spell was broken in an instant.

Satoru must’ve been under the same trance for his hand trailed lower to pull you closer, your chests grazing with one another before you placed your palm flat on his body, lips thinned into a grim look that resonated with the sick, twisting feeling in your guts.

“I,” you croaked out, clearing your throat when it went dry. “I need to go to the ladies.”

You left Satoru without another word, bunching your dress up to run to where he had disappeared. He was still walking coolly and inspecting the paintings hung in the empty lobby with faux interest – although knowing him, the bastard probably did enjoy classical pieces and studied about them in his free time; which he didn’t have much to begin with.

As if sensing your presence, he stopped right in front of a replica of The Sleeping Venus, his hands dug deep in his pockets. “The shape of being is the visual demonstration of a state of being in which idealized existence is suspended in immutable slow-breathing harmony. All the sensuality has been distilled off from this sensuous presence, and all incitement; Venus denotes not the act of love but the recollection of it. The perfect embodiment of Giorgione’s dream, she dreams his dream herself,” he narrates in his baritone voice, “A little cordial, is it not?”

You took your gun out from your thigh holster and lowered it right at the back of his skull. “Don’t move another inch.”

“No need to be so hostile in a public setting, Y/N. I’m only here to look out for you and making sure you’re not forgetting who you are. Killing me isn’t part of the plan.”

“Neither was murdering my husband,” you growled, pushing the barrel harder against him, though the man didn’t budge before you. “I know that it wasn’t Toji who set off the bomb, Kento, you did.”

“We simply saw an opportunity that couldn’t be wasted. Two notorious mafia leaders in an unsuspecting supposed safe environment?” The fact he didn’t even deny it left you speechless. Kento spun around until your gun rested between his eyes, and he languidly pushed his glasses up his high nose as he looked down on you. “We could’ve killed two birds with one stone had you not been in the way.”

“You guys are out to kill me too now?”

“Don’t act too surprised. The Organization isn’t patient enough to wait for both leaders to die.”

“So you killed my husband?!” you argued, “He was my friend, I told you not to touch him!”

“Only in the exchange that you hand him to us,” Kento echoed, jogging your memory until you were kept up to date. “But it’s been five years and what has happened so far? You’re fraternizing with the enemy and even manufacturing drugs for your so-called husband. Now that he’s dead, you’re here in Italy, looking as stunning as ever as you wine and dine with a former lover,” Kento tilted his head to the side to study your appearance – smiling at how you seemed too bright and fashionable for a woman in supposed mourning.

“I hardly believe you’re actually affected by this at all.”

“How dare you! I’ve proven to no end my loyalty of the higher-ups!”

Kento didn’t bat an eye at your outburst. If anything, he stepped closer to your weapon. “Kill me if you wish, Y/N, but know the moment you put a bullet in my head, the Organization will place you on the same pedestal as Naoya’s and Gojo’s. I wouldn’t recommend such methods considering we’re already at unease on whose side you’re really on. If you do this, you will be our enemy.”

“I did everything for the Organization. What else would you want from me?”

“The contract was easy. We want both leaders – whether dead or alive – in our custody. If you don’t hold your side of the deal, it’s not only your life that we’ll take from you,” Kento pulled out a red coin that made your heart sink deep into your stomach for it served as a threat over the consequences of your actions.

He lowered your gun with the coin and smirked at you, his lips right beside the shell of your ear as he purred, “I suggest you be careful with what step of action you take next.”

“Oi, Nanami, you’re here!” Satoru’s voice suddenly boomed in the hallway. Nanami was as unbothered as ever from taking a step away from you, nodding to your gun which you quickly concealed right before Satoru arrived. You were frozen – rendered immobile with the flashing red metal from his palm – that you couldn’t even protest against Satoru wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I see you’ve met Mrs. Zen’in already.”

“Hmm, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Madam,” taking your hand in his, Kento’s eyes were nothing but eerie as he kissed your knuckles. “Shall we start our discussion?”

SUKI RANTS! Nanami quoted Sydney Joseph Friedberg (an art critic) in one of his dialogues. A little backstory on the painting was that the portrait was originally made by Giorgone, who had a student and also his lover (if I’m not mistaken) called Titian. Giorgone never finished the portrait because he died from the plague but Titiane finished it for him, symbolizing that Y/N still has a mission that connected her from Naoya even after his death and she has to finish something he started. The portrait is of a nude woman that symbolized oneness of nature and that the woman isn’t posed for the gaze of men, but rather they are dreaming, hence the quote: “Venus denotes not the act of love but the recollection of it. The perfect embodiment of Giorgione’s dream, she dreams his dream herself.” Nanami said the painting’s meaning resonated with Y/N’s situation too much since she wasn’t in love with Naoya, but she had a recollection of their moments that still represented their relationship, and that Naoya’s dream (goals) are also shared by Reader. I was gonna ask you guys what your theories are on that scene but I think this makes me sound cooler if I explain it so *lip bite emoji because I’m still broken over Naoya’s death*

taglist open (lmk if you want to be added/removed):

@sixeyesgojo @shingekiyofeels @q-the-rockaholic @whatthefuckisthatthing @rogueofbullshit @kat-su-ki @kellyyween @sebootyforlife @asshxcm @charlie-xo @aoi-turtle @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head @hannya-quinn @90s-belladonna @tinyfrogsinmybrain @kinekyuroo @evesmores @ambiguous-something @lilith412426 @kakashiharusohma @aizawap @yumeneji @dora-the-grownup @jotazinha @themrsgojo @d34r-s4t4n @marai-t @toji-bee @hai-cool @badsadbby @stesphy @peach-buns-unicorns @misslezah @gracefullyfallinglikeanime @iwaplant @mikiminaccch @riri-marley | bolded users cannot be tagged

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writingabouteverything · 3 years ago

Text

The Perfect White Flower--and Other Nonexistent Things

a/n YALL THIS IS PROBABLY DUMB BUT I HAD THIS IDEA ABOUT A HARRY STYLES X READER FIC THATS BASED ON THE PLOT OF JANE THE VIRGIN AND I WANTED TO WRITE IT SO BADLY I MADE THIS ACCOUNT

disclaimer--wont follow the show exactly

Pairing: Harry Styles x latina! reader (a key factor of the show revolves around the lead being latina, and im latina and honestly love writing for us but anyone can still read and understand/hopefully enjoy and the fic doesn’t involve any physical descriptions:))

Series Summary: Y/n l/n has had the world figured out since she was a child. She won’t be a writer because it’s risky, she’ll just focus on school and becoming a teacher. She’s never been a child, because her mother had her at sixteen and hasn’t aged a single year since. That’s part of the reason the promise she made to her grandmother means so much to her--if she doesn’t have sex before marriage, her child will never have to grow up as quickly as she did. And Harry Styles is at the top of the world--his music has never been more successful, he has a lovely girlfriend, and he’s never been more in demand. He has everything in the world...except a child, and through a series of unbelievable events--y/n might be his only chance to have one. Ever.

Chapter One Summary: Who knew getting a pap smear on two hours of sleep and three cups of coffee was as bad as having unprotected sex?

There’s something dangerous about taking public transportation in LA. And no, I don’t mean it in the ‘there are bad people in the world’ type of way. I mean it in the ‘I live in one of the casual influencer, celebrity, tourist hubs of the world and each time I step onto the bus I find myself mesmerized by all the stories I see in them’ way. Kind of pathetic, I know, but sometimes a child with blonde pig tails or a woman streaming on instagram live will catch my eye and the urge to pull out my lap top and start something I’ll never finish.

I know that writing isn’t some kind of disease. But I can’t let myself fall in love with it the way I want to. There’s nothing wrong with writing a short story or two, but trying to write a novel? That’s impractical. It will distract me from school, from the four year plan I’m almost done with.

Sighing, I brave taking at my surroundings. I deserve this today, after the anonymous, rude costumer at the hotel today, I need positivity. No one is particularly inspiring. The bus stops and I watch out the window. At first the crowd is ordinary, and then i see them...paparazzi. Flashing cameras from all angles, grown men violating all rules of personal space. It never sits right with me, but I guess it’s just part of living in LA. The bus starts moving again. When it stops again, I see even more paparazzis, but their cameras aren’t flashing. Good for whoever escaped that.

The bus door opens and I snap my attention back to my computer screen. I rub my eyes as I stare at my word document. How is there more that needs to be edited? This professor is the harshest grader I’ve ever had, and my friend, Gisa, is kind for giving me even more notes. But I’m exhausted. Two tests and an essay due before 12:00. And it’s...11:38. Great--I have to upload it the second I’m at my doctor’s office and have WiFi again.

I spend some time highlighting and rewording sentences, and once I’m done I reward myself with more people watching because I deserve it and I can’t fall asleep here. I’m kind of invested in the girl live streaming her bus ride...maybe she’ll say her instagram handle.

But when I look up, she’s not on the bus anymore. Almost no one is. An elderly couple is sitting towards the back. A woman with a toddler sit two rows in front of me...and there’s now a man directly across from me. I blink for a moment, imagining a story for someone who’s face I can’t quite see beneath such dark sun glasses. His dark waves and strong jaw do most of the imagining for me--he deserves a mystery, a dramatic one with a happy ending and just enough romance to keep the people interested. A good romance, too--not too sappy. Enemies to lovers, maybe. A mysterious stranger that’s not really a stranger because something about him is just...familiar.

He turns his head and I drop my gaze immediately. There’s no doubt he caught that, but I still pretend to edit the title of my essay. “You’ve been typing stubbornly since I first got on the bus.” There’s an accent--of course he’s english. But it’s more than that, I’ve heard that voice before. I’ve been...soothed by it. And--oh my god, I’m sitting across from Harry Styles.

Okay, don’t freak out. Don’t freak him out. He’s probably on here to escape the the whole ‘oh my god, you’re Harry Styles!’ thing.

“What are you writing?” Harry Styles just spoke to me. I greeted my one direction poster every single day in middle school, and Harry Styles just spoke to me. Okay--relax, breathe--it’s only weird if you make it weird.

There’s a kind of curt curiosity to his question. He could have been ruder, considering how blatantly I was staring at him. “I um...an essay.” I’m temped to turn the screen so that he can see I’m telling the truth. Though he wasn’t hostile, a part of me is paranoid that he thinks I am writing about him. It’s a fair assumption, for all he knows I’m drafting a tweet about who I saw on the bus this morning or preparing to send something in to some gossip girl-esque blog. “It’s due today at noon and normally I’m way more on top of things, but I had this last minute doctor’s appointment rescheduling because my usual doctor is out of town and--” I cut myself off before I can tell Harry Styles that I’m ovulating and that if I don’t go to my OBGYN now, I have to wait an entire month and I’ve already been off birth control longer than I’d like. I might not have actual sex in my near future, but my cramps have been extra terrible. “An essay, I just finished an essay.”

He nods once. Maybe he feels bad for so thoroughly startling me into such a rambling, because the corner of his mouth tilts upwards. A soft smile adds even more grace to his features, I focus on the dimple that appears in his cheek. “An aggravating essay, I take it, considering the death glares you’ve been giving your laptop screen.”

I smile at his polite humor. “It’s for the harshest grader on campus. She took three points off of my first essay freshman year because I spaced my bibliography wrong.”

He cringes in sympathy. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” I hum, proud of myself for not letting him know that I know who he is. The bus stops, I can see my doctor’s office behind a few paparazzi. “This is my stop.”

Harry nods once, ducking his head slightly. A tiny part of me feels sympathy for him; from what I’ve gathered, he genuinely loves his fans and the relationship they have, but it must be draining to never have a moment of privacy. Especially when it’s people who care more about selling your picture than your mental health.

I linger on the bus’s step, watching the men with large cameras look around. “Excuse me, are you guys looking for Harry Styles?” Most of the men disregard me, but one looks at me. “I know he’s near here because I’m a really big fan and my friend just texted that she saw him.” This gets me the attention I wanted. “He’s at Northfield--a cafe like three blocks down. I just know that if she got a picture with Harry in like a magazine or something she’d totally lose it--in a good way, and she’s been having a bad time so if you see her can you try to make it happen? Knowing her she’ll be at his side, she’s blonde, shortish hair.”

The men seem skeptical, but I guess they realize that this is the best lead they have. I think the fact that I gave a reason to justify selling Harry out for no reason helped. They disperse together, heading at least three blocks away from Harry. I don’t know if I’ve actually helped him, but I hope I have.

“Essay girl.” I freeze, half cringing. Did he hear that? That’s embarrassing. I consider darting away, but decide that would just make me cringe more. So I turn on my heels. “You...you forgot your phone.”

He just saved my life. “Thank you.” I take my phone from his outstretched hand, ignoring the slight thrill that runs through me when our fingers brush. “You’re my hero--the last thing I needed today was to run all over the city searching for my phone.” I finish the awkward admission with a partial laugh.

“Least I could do,” he mumbles, “especially considering what you just did.”

...He did see that. “Oh um--it was nothing, I just kind of made a connection and assumed the only reason you’d be on a public bus is because you were trying to avoid some things, and you make really great music and a lot of people happy, so you deserve that break.” Why does it feel like I’ve been talking forever? “Anyways, thanks for the whole phone thing, and I hope I got them off your tail.”

My joke seems to somewhat land. His lips part, like he’s planning on saying something else. A timer on my phone interrupts him. I instinctually look down--great, the alarm on my phone warning me that I’m only ten minutes away from being late. “I’m late.” I turn towards the bus’s exit. “I gotta go, but thanks again, and I hope you have a good day.”

I disappear after that, still not sure that that whole thing wasn’t some kind of hallucination. Did I just meet Harry Styles? He...he gave me my phone. Harry Styles has touched my phone. I can’t wait to tell Gisa, she’ll lose it.

I’m still thinking about Harry Styles when I finally reach my OBGYN’s office. When I get there, things are a lot more hectic than I thought they’d be. Many people crowd the waiting area and the receptionist’s desk is clearly understaffed. Two young girls are trying to address multiple upset pregnant women and take phone calls at the same time, all while practically buried in a sea pf paperwork. Wow, I didn’t realize that transferring was such chaos. One of the girls waves me over and barely checks my name before shoving a form towards me. I fill out as quickly as possible.

I upload my essay quickly after checking in. Who knows, maybe Harry Styles’s blessing will get me an A? A third person in scrubs emerges from the back after a moment and ushers me into a room. I tell myself to focus on going over the facts I need for the test I have to take in a little over an hour. Or to focus on the fact that I just met Harry Styles. But instead, I feel my heavy eyelids fall shut.

I don’t know how long I sleep, but I know that I wake up during the middle of a doctor’s sentence, “...I know I’m not your usual, so I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Hm...Yeah, yeah I’m comfortable.” She nods once, her wide eyes slightly red. “But I do have a class today in like an hour, so I was wondering if this was going to take longer because of the office’s move?”

“Oh, no,” she shakes her head. “Just because Dr. Rodriguez gave us no notice before deciding that she no longer wanted to work here...or in the country. Or even live in the US, despite the fact that we just signed a lease on a place together...” Tears well in the stranger’s eyes, pity settles in my stomach.

“That sounds incredibly complicated, I didn’t mean to rush you.”

She blinks twice, her expression blanking as she fights against the pain of what’s clearly a terrible break up. “No, no--you have every right. Today is your day and if..honestly, if you’re strong enough to go to a class after this, and do what you’re about to do by yourself, then I’m strong enough to get through today.”

Um...didn’t realize a pap smear counted as something that needs moral support, but I’ll chalk it up to her heightened emotions. “Thanks.”

She snaps on her medical gloves. “No, thank you for your patience. Now lay down.”

I do as told, preparing for a sensation I haven’t often experienced. A moment passes and I know she’s started. She’s moving away from me much faster than expected. Oh--I guess pap smears are a lot shorter than I expected.

“That’s it?”

“Yep,” she hums, pulling her gloves off. “Now just take it easy, and hydrate.”

Weird...but that’s like general doctor advice. “Thanks!”

I’ve never wanted to keep a secret from Gisa, but sometimes I really regret telling her I met Harry Styles. It’s been almost a month and I find my mind wandering back to the moment in which our fingers brushed more than I should. Sometimes I let myself wonder what he might have said if my phone hadn’t rang. I was probably just imagining the way his lips parted, but my ind refuses to let it go.

“...You know it’s kind of sad, I read an interview in which he spoke about the fact that he has some genetic condition that makes it hard to have kids. He has so many godchildren, and I feel like he’d make such a great father.”

I try to keep up with Gisa’s words, but the dull ache in my head makes it feel so far away. “Yeah...he seemed really patient.”

Gisa nods, turning to face me. “You alright, you’re looking kinda green?”

“Yeah...” I reach for my canvas bag. “I think I just...I probably just need some water.”

My hand grazes the metal of my water bottle and then the corners of my vision blur into blackness. I sway, Gisa’s hand is on my shoulder...and then it all goes black.

I sit uncomfortably on the hospital’s cot. Gisa is a traitor for telling my mom that I fainted. I knew she’d just drag me here--hispanic mothers, they either believe they can cure you with vic’s vapor rub or they want you in the ER. No in between.

“I know you didn’t want another test, but you’ve been throwing up in the morning for days and now you’re fainting.”

“Fainted,” I correct, “it happened once.”

“C’mon, mija, it’s just one doctor’s appointment.”

Speaking of, an ER nurse returns. “Fainting and nausea spells explained,” he says, glancing at his clipboard, “you’re pregnant.”

My mom and I can’t help but exchange a look before bursting into laughter. Pregnant. If I’m pregnant then the second coming is here. “That’s impossible, I’m a virgin.”

He glances at my mom, “maybe we should have this conversation in private.”

“No, what you say in front of me you can say in front of my mom.”

My mom raises an eyebrow. “Y/n, did you and that guy from your english class--”

“No! No, we did not. I am a virgin and there’s no way I’m pregnant.” I glare at the nurse.

He then ushers me to a bathroom so that I can provide a urine sample. After I’m finished, he shows me a pregnancy test strip. “Pink means pregnant.” I bite my tongue as he tests the strip in my sample. He pulls it out and it’s...it’s bright pink.

“I’m calling my doctor, because this has to be a mistake. It has to be like a hormonal thing.”

“Exactly, pregnancy hormones.”

I glare even harder, calling the doctor that I saw last week. “Hello, Dr. Ash? I was wondering if I could get a consultation because I’m in the ER and some crazy doctor is trying to tell me I’m pregnant.”

Silence on the line for a long second. “...I actually cleared my calendar for you.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #jane the virgin #jane the virgin AU #lot #hslot st louis

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kashimos-hajime · 3 years ago

Text

no regrets (8/8) | r.b.

summary: For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Or, Reiner finally understands what peace is.

WARNINGS: MANGA SPOILERS!!! angst, mentions of violence, we get our happy ending :) pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 6.7k

a/n: welcome to the last chapter!! thank you so much for being on this journey with me. there are a few callbacks to previous chapters so see if you can catch ‘em all heheh

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

Few months ago ymir asked if I could let her write one last letter to krista, and I did let her. I stood over her shoulder the whole time, watching her pen down all this sappy shit and I kept thinking about you the whole time, behind those walls. What you were doing, what you were thinking. Maybe if you thought about me. I dont know.

I’m starting to see the appeal of wrting what youre not strong enough to say to a persons face. I never thought Id find myself on the other end of this stick. for some reason, I thought that I could stop myself, resist the temptation, or maybe that I didnt feel for you as strong as I thought I did once I was away from you. I was wrong.

What do I even say? I mean shit, I can barely see, my limbs are barely in tact, and all of it—shiganshina, it haunts me, even though I cant really remember it that well. Half of it goes black and then I remember hearing your voice, I remember Bertholdt, I remember you screaming.

You couldve walked away. why didnt you walk away? It doesn’t make sens. Why did you think to cut me out? Why did you try to save me? Im trying to make it make sense inmy head. It’s not working.

Fuck I dont know what I was thinking when I asked for a paper and pen. Why am I asking you questions? Its not like ill ever understand. At this point, I think it’s pity thats letting Zeke let me waste ink on trying to write straight. He doesn’t know what im doing, but thats better this way. Better than sleeping—better than eating. I just wanna talk to you and this is as close as I can get. Its my own damn fault, but I dont care.

I completed my mission. After this, im done. ill give up the rest of my term. I dont want any of that glory anymore. I dont want to be a hero. Im just done.

Fuck, my head hurts so much. I dont really know if what im saying is making sense. Im hoping you never read this.

im sorry. I wish I could explain it to you some day, but chances are, ill be dead soon. Whether for treason or because they need to pass on the Titan, and I wont be able to see you again. Which means youll never know how sorry I am. How much I

Thats okay. I dont think youd believe me now even if I did say anything.

I remember your dream to live by the lake with a bunch of kids. You know I started to wonder if youd mind if they were our kids, not just some orphans who needed a home. I’d imagine one of them with blond hair. Imagine them swimming in the lake.

Never told you that was my dream too. Never knew i could have a dream of my own, something only I wanted and not just something to further marleys damn agenda, til I knew you. Sounds stupid but its true.

I think youd like Marley, if we weren’t sworn enemies. Just want you here with me right now. make me sleep easier knowing you’re there when I wake up.

Dont want secrets either. Fuck I miss you so bad. I feel s o tired all the time.

I rember when i first saw you all could think about was how you were the most prettiest girl id ever seen. I don know if you know thats why I tried to distance myself. Knew I couldn’t get distracted from my mison. happened anyway. Wish I could tell you that.

wish I could tell you I love you. Wish I could see the look on yur face when you try lobster for the first time. Youd love it. Not sweet, but tons of desserts here too.

Shit. And the ring on your finger. ill put a ring on your finger. I promised. i swear ill go home and buy a ring for the moment I see you again. Might not be pretty but will do the best I can.

Olnly wnat only wnat only want to see you again and beg for your forgiveness. Let you know if I had a choice, I wouldnt have done it. Would take it all back, nd stay. i wanted to stay, stay with you and the others. I used to want to spend the rest of my life in those walls, now I think im sick and tired of them dividing people who arent even that differnet.

My eyes are beginning to burn. Worse because the skin is sitll growing back. Fucking hell god I miss you. miss your smile more.

I know i dont deserve your forigvneess forgiveness. I want you to be angry with me. I deserve as much, and I cant ask you to, but

With love,

Rienr

You fold the letter, eyes closing as your fingers trace where the ink bled, the old tear stains wrinkling the paper beyond measure. Some are older than others, and you trace over his name again, your eyes burning, your throat tight enough to suffocate.

You’re leaning against the wall as everyone disembarks. They had taken Eren off first, Hange and the others getting ready to depart for the city while Connie and Jean lift a covered stretcher too white for the vivacious girl that lays dead beneath it.

They pass you silently, and you catch sight of a certain captain approaching, his pale eyes nearly swallowed by the shadows haunting his face.

“Captain,” you say, straightening. Placing the letter back into the tin, you slide it back into your pocket as he folds a green jacket over his shoulder. You give him a nod.

“You made it out alive,” Levi observes. He stops beside you, eyes more focused on what’s ahead. No doubt he’s not looking forward to having to take Zeke to wherever he needs to go—somewhere far, far away from Eren. You cross your arms.

“It’s good to see you, too, Levi,” you intone. Sighing, you step in beside him and look out at the Walls you can’t see in the distance, your entire body wrought with a strange fatigue that’s only sewn into muscles by adrenaline leaving the body. “I think I’m going to stay.” He tilts his head to you, eyes flickering to your face, and you mirror the shift, your arms tightening. “I can’t leave this unfinished. Not after Liberio.”

“The farm will have to be abandoned,” he points out. “The kids, too.”

“I’ll make sure I move them where someone can take care of them. Somewhere north, far away from the brothers,” you assure, although still, your heart begins to sink and you close your eyes, exhaling deeply. “I have to hope they understand.”

Levi only nods, and you open your eyes as he wordlessly takes the jacket off his arm and offers it to you. Grasping it wearily, you open your mouth to ask questions but he only sets off, back towards the cabin where Zeke is still being held, and you snap your jaws shut, looking down at the jacket.

When you unfold it, you swallow the hard rock in your throat at the blue and white slipping beween the folds of olive green before there’s a sharp whistle. Looking up, you see the carriages already beginning to load up, and you glance back at the door where the captain has disappeared through before jogging down the ramp.

You slither your arms through the sleeves and shuffle the fabric along your frame as something thumps against your thigh, and you frown, reaching down into your pocket and coming into contact with something smooth and hard.

Withdrawing, your lips part at the green bolo tie gleaming in the lights of the port and you, without another thought, pull it over your head, letting it fall against your breastbone.

“For your services to the Survey Corps.”

There’s no time to second-guess now. No time to debate.

“Good to have you back,” Hange murmurs as you walk towards the carriage taking Mikasa, Armin, and the others back to the city. You tug the lapels of the jacket tighter around yourself and flash them a weak smile.

The Wings of Freedom on your arm feel like a brand, and it prickles your skin as you climb in after them.

Distantly, he remembers flashes.

Eren reaching forward for Zeke, the exhaustion ripping him every which way, the sound of ODM gear whizzing in his ears as he tries to make sense of the punctured sensation in his armour.

How he had softened his nape, intending to die then. At least, let his death have some meaning, he had thought. Let him make one last effort to repent for everything he did to Paradis, and to his friends who’d been more family than his own mother.

He slips in an out of consciousness for the next few days. He doesn’t know what is up, what is down, but he does recognize his surroundings blearily, the way his head spinning somehow slowing when he presses his temple to the wooden floor.

How can he almost hear your voice in the echoes of the panels, countered by someone who almost sounds like Annie before he drifts off again.

When Reiner finally regains consciousness again, he wakes to someone crouched down in front of him. Jerking up, he lets out a sound before a palm slaps over his mouth and your face is shoved against his own.

“Shut it,” you whisper fiercely. “It’s just me.”

Your name muffled by your own hand, his eyes begin to burn and you lift your palm away as he sits up and you draw back. You’re dressed in clothes that look like they’ve seen better days but you’re relatively uninjured as you pull back. New lines adorn your face—one of the many prices of their damned war—and you only look exhausted.

Sitting up, Reiner’s whole body groans as he leans against the wall, but he can’t tear his eyes away from you. Your hands are hovering around his body like you’re scared he’ll collapse and there’s a fracture in your mask.

Something gleams on your finger and his eyes flit to it, his heart lurching when he realizes what it is.

The ring. You’re wearing it. You…

For a moment, a glimmer of their teenage selves shine through and he wants to reach for it—touch it so he can remember what it’s like to be happy. He thinks it’s an awful like now; the swelling of his heart so big he can’t breathe; the way his lungs are static in his chest; how he can’t say anything because there are so many words that want to come out first.

“You’re here. You’re alive,” he finally settles on raspily. Your eyes glint with a youthful pain as you nod.

“So are you.”

And he doesn’t know who moves first—you or him. Nothing is forgiven as their bodies crash in an embrace that lacks grace, but they cling onto another like the world is ending and they’re the only ones left standing.

Maybe they are.

He buries his face in your neck, and your arms are so tight around him your fingers dig into his shoulders as your body melts against his and his skeleton sags in his own body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, eyes fluttering shut. “I‘m sorry.” A hand against your neck and an arm around your waist, he wraps his legs around your own and traps you against him. You seem to only sink into him even more.

Is that enough? I don’t want you to hate me.

You suck in a breath, and then it comes out shuddering. “You can spend the rest of what life you have left repenting for making me fall in love with a man who was always supposed to die.”

Softly, in his mind, your voice cools the searing heat of hatred inside him. It’s enough. It has to be.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. It’s like they’re the only words he knows. He can’t remember ever meaning it this much. For him dying, for making you love him, for ever coming to Paradis. For loving you. For loving you. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know. I know.” Your face turns to press against his own. Your lips brush against his jaw and his eyes slide shut, tears rolling down his face. “I read every single one of your letters.” Drawing back, you cup his face in his hands and your fingers smear his tears all over his cheeks as his palm rests against your neck. Thumb stretching up to touch your chin, he feels sobs shuddering in his throat at seeing you again—looking at him almost like you used to. “I can’t begin to understand, but I know you are. And I know you love me.”

Choking, he gasps, “You should hate me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I should.” You’re crying, too, voice thick, tears stubborn on your cheeks as you give him a watery smile. “I should hate Marley, too. But it’s beautiful there. The water by the sea… I want to be there with you next time. We need to go together, before you leave me alone, okay?”

Reiner doesn’t quite hear you. He hears Marley, and beautiful, and he’s never noticed how beautiful you are when you cry, but right now, it’s the simplest truth he knows.

“Okay.”

When you tilt his chin up and kiss him softly, something inside him explodes from the gentleness that makes him want to crack in the palm of your hands. It sears him from the inside out, makes him grab onto you like you’ll disappear—this is another dream, isn’t it?

It has to be.

You can’t be kissing him again after four years. He doesn’t deserve it. You’re an illusion, something his mind made up to deal with the pain. He’s finally cracked for good, just like Bertholdt said he would, and he’s the devil, not you.

But then you pull away just for a moment to smile, eyes barely open as you look at him with a sad tenderness that wraps him in an invisible embrace, and he is faced with the heart-wrenching reality.

The sky is falling, you are holding him tightly again, and they’ve lost their years. But you’re here. With him.

He knows that this isn’t a dream as he feels the coolness of the silver band on your finger and the heaviness in how he knows he hasn’t repented a damn thing.

Why him?

As you run your hand through his hair, you press their foreheads together.

“And I do want a family with you, by the water if you’d like,” you murmur fleetingly against his mouth and his eyes widen, cheeks burning, entire face crumbling as he turns his face in to your shoulder, crushing you in another brace. Sobbing into your neck, his fingers dig into your shoulders, wrap tight around your waist, squeeze you so close he isn’t sure where you end and he begins and your lips brush the shell of his ear. “Reiner, say it.”

“Please,” he whispers thickly into your skin, and you cradle the back of his head with a hand. He’s nothing more than shambles. “Please, don’t go.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” you promise. His breath is hot against his own face as you pull his head back and cradle his face again, thumbs brushing away the tears from his red face. “Just a bit more. A bit more and then it’ll be all over, you know?”

And he understands, then, what you want from him. Struggling for breath, for his lungs to stop seizing in his aching chest, he cups your face that turns into his palm on instinct, your face wet with your own tears as, for a moment, they try to pretend this isn’t where they really are.

Like they’re still in that afternoon in Trost, a thousand years ago, with the kids flipping coins into the water fountain and a cream bun between them. Like they’re under the tree, apple juice on your wrist and his lips on yours.

Like it’s those trips to the city, the walks on the Walls. Honey is dripping down your chin and he’s pretending he doesn’t want to kiss you, or there’s grease smeared on his forehead, and you’re reaching up to wipe it off his skin.

Like a thousand moments all at once, and he nods to himself as you brush your hand over his temple. The world outside is startlingly quiet, as if the universe itself stopped everything itself to watch this moment, and Reiner takes a breath that bruises his sternum before he’s holding your left hand where that ring still sits.

And slowly, he pulls it off, whispering as firmly as he can. He’s sure he fails—he’s shaking all over from your presence alone.

“When this is over, I’ll put that ring back on your finger. I promise.”

The smile that splits your face is dazzling. It’s the smile he’s missed since the day he left it.

“We have a lot of things to work out, Reiner Braun.”

And your fingers barely brush his jaw before you’re leaning to press a sweet kiss against his mouth. It’s sugary on his tongue, like honey and apple slices.

Your back is warmer when you’re pressed up against Reiner’s. The ship is quiet, and their pinkies are just barely hooked on oen another’s as you stare blankly at the empty space between Connie’s boots. You don’t speak, and Reiner’s gaze is only on you. He can’t look at anything else now that you’re back by his side again.

There’s a cut on your cheek from the fight just half an hour ago, and there’s dried blood along your hands where your knuckles had split open, but everyone seems too exhausted to clean themselves up.

Reiner himself has a blanket pulled over his shoulders, and he sighs, slouching in his own sack of flesh.

Your head tilts towards him, enough that your temple presses against his cheek. His eyes close and he leans into your touch. Not a word passes by, but their hold on each other’s hands tightens. And Reiner thinks.

For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Something that hasn’t burned since he left Marley as a child.

Reiner thinks he doesn’t want to die anymore. He doesn’t want to miss you for another moment.

Raising from the steam, you groan, your hands searing from the inside out as you touch your face where you swore every inch of your skin had been stretched, but nothing seems out of sorts as you glance around. Everywhere, all your friends who had turned just as you had are in various states of disoriented. The air is still hissing, crackled with surprised screams and shouts of names as people look for one another across the field.

It smells like cooked meat and burnt hair, a none-to-pleasant mixture that turns your stomach.

Getting to your feet, you wipe at your face, trying to ignore the weird feeling underneath your nails and the ache seizing your muscles. Trying to ignore the remnants of Eren lingering like a ghost that won’t really leave you alone. You shiver, and a strange cold sweat takes over your body.

He had taken you to the sea, except it wasn’t the shore you were familiar with. There was a cabin nearby, with blonde children running, chasing after one another and a man with golden hair standing on the porch, firewood in his arms as he calls out silently. Or maybe you had been standing too far to hear.

“Eren… where are we?”

“Wherever you think you are,” he had said. “I just brought you where you wanted to be.”

A voice, quiet as a memory, catches your attention. “Here let me help.” A soft wind blows throw the mist, cooling your scorching face as you feel a presence stand behind you.

“Oh, thank you.” You look over your shoulder to see a tall boy, and your heart stops. Mouth dropping open, you stare at his foggy image, but he only smiles fully, a smile so tender it reaches every corner of you as you stumble forward, fingers stretching for him. “Bertholdt!”

His smile grows only that much more, eyes squinting a bit and a flash of teeth before he’s looking at your hand that passes through his chest. All at once, all the hope built up in your chest crumbles, and your hand snaps back, trembling just before him. He lays a hand over your own and your eyes begin to burn, tears slipping down your cheeks.

And then, softly, you barely whisper, “I miss you.”

Bertholdt’s smile merely grows, as if to say everything he couldn’t say before. As if to show he’s at peace now—that your last memory together isn’t every part of him, and your lips press together, trying to stop yourself from shaking.

Shadows form in the fog, and together, the two look as a freckled boy and another girl steps out of the mist a distance away, beaming like the sun. Connie and Jean stagger to their feet just behind you, and your heart lurches into your throat when you recognize them.

“Marco! Sasha!”

Someone calls your name and you turn around just as arms scoop you up and you let out a surprised noise before settling into Reiner’s arms. Looking over your shoulder to look at Bertholdt, your heart only sinks.

He smiles and Reiner lets out a sharp breath beside you, settling you down. “Bertholdt…” More shapes emerge. A shorter boy accompanied by another taller one, both alike in their features. You recognize one as the Jaw Titan holder before Falco, but the other—

“Marcel!” Reiner chokes out the name, hand stretching out to the fog, but the boy merely tilts his head and waves.

Closing your eyes, hot tears streak over your cooling flesh as you fling your arms around Reiner again and press your face into his neck. He cradles the back of your head, and he feels… somehow weaker, but still, there is that impassable strength in his core that wraps around you as he watches over your shoulder, still clinging on despite your clothes hot enough to burn.

I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive. It’s the only thought in your head. Your last clear memory had truly been the others taking flight, and the pain that had ripped apart your body before sewing it back together again in unjust proportions. Your limbs had been too big, your blood racing too warmly through your head as your legs pumped but your brain screamed to stop.

Your fingers had sank into Reiner’s legs to pull him down and you had watched—watched Jean take a bite out of him—

You shiver and Reiner’s arms tighten around you instinctively, constricting enough to let you know that his attention isn’t on you quite yet.

Boots shifting on the ground tentatively, your knees feel gummy as you draw back long enough to look at him. He still looks over your shoulder, and you follow his gaze to watch the mist retreat. Bertholdt and the other two boys fall into a pool of fog, and your lips part in a farewell, but it’s already too late.

He’s gone.

A wind sweeps through the battlefield, tickling your sweating neck and cooling your boiling blood.

“Hey,” a soft voice croaks.

Their eyes meet in tandem. He regards you softly, like you are the reason the sun rises and the stars hang at the sky. Overwhelmed, you can only cup the back of his neck and pull him into a deep kiss. Your other hand along his jaw, it takes all you can not to pull him into a bone-crushing embrace that’ll send them both to the ground.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you whisper hushedly against his mouth, throat swelling as he lets out a soft noise of surprise as you pull him into another tight hug. You don’t care that you’re crushing him, just that his heart is pounding against your own chest. “I couldn’t stop myself. I’m so sorry.”

His eyes widening, he wraps his hands around your wrists and pulling you back just enough to kiss your fingers that crumple against his mouth. Clasping one of his hands in both of your own, you close your eyes and he uses his free fingers to brush the tears off your cheek before reaching into some dented tin you don’t recognize.

Eyebrows furrowing, you feel the heat leave your entire body, sapping your energy too, and your eyes snap to Reiner who steps back, cracking it open and presenting it to you.

“You’re not the one who has to be sorry. I don’t think I’m the Armoured Titan anymore,” he whispers. “I don’t know if I get the rest of my life back, but either way, I want to spend the rest of it repenting to you in any way I can, if you’ll allow me to.” A weak smile. “Truth.”

Your throat closes up, and you stare down at the ring so protected, gleaming despite the destruction around them. It looks almost out of place amongst the grime smearing your skin, the sweat drenching their skin, the smell of blood and metal clinging to their clothes, but Reiner only watches you with a tenderness you can barely meet. It’s so overtly overflowing with devotion that your heart is resting on your tongue, seizing control of everything.

You barely nod, chewing on your lip, trying not to cry even harder as his eyebrows rise in relief and he lets out a long sigh.

He lifts the ring out of the tin, snapping it closed before sliding the band back home onto your finger and all at once, everything floods you. The exhaustion, the pain, the hunger, thirst, grief wrapping around your bones and chaining you to the ground.

It’s over.

The minute he put the ring on your finger, it would mean it was over. No more blood, no more fighting.

Just like he promised.

You barely croak out his name before you fall to your knees. You trust him to catch you, and he does.

[THREE YEARS LATER]

Just after the Rumbling had stopped, you had gone back to Paradis alone and came back with three children to a man who was still uncertain in a world that was changing.

Since then, you’ve learned so much about the world, about yourself, about Reiner.

How he’s seized by night terrors even now, just like you, and how one thing that soothes it is going out for a walk while the sun still simmers below the horizon, the sky a dark navy blue spliced with orange rays. The intricate details like him making a point to tie his own tie because his father never taught him how or the way he has to chug his coffee so he has enough energy to get through the day.

And some days are horrible, haunting, but now, it is far outweighed by the good. He teaches Xav how to dress smart, takes the girls out shopping. Sometimes, he’s spotted around Liberio with a flame-haired boy riding his shoulders, you trailing behind hiding a smile behind some ice-cream.

Different nations, foods, cultures surround you now—citizens of countries coming to settle down roots, spread cuisine to Marley. The idea before, of humans so different than you but still similar at the root of it all, existing, still blows your mind. The technologies that you had never seen before, languages you’d never heard, sights you’d never seen, had all swarmed you as you stepped into a new world with him.

But there is always one thing you’ll come back to.

Leaning against the railing in the port city Reiner told you was the harbour he had left twelve years ago, and returned to seven years ago, you watch the clouds travel in slow drags across the pale blue canvas hung high above your head. The water spans for as far as you can see, glimmering under the sun and gorgeous enough to take your breath away. You pull at your coat across your chest absently, ignoring the tender growl of your stomach.

Breathing in the salty wind, you feel your chest expand at the litle fishing boats a little ways out.

Reiner was right. You don’t get sick of the sea. You never will—not of this much water. You still remember the first time you had swam in it, the salt-water making your hair crisp, the cold sweat forming on your your sun-warmed skin.

You feel a hand on your shoulder. Looking up, you spot blonde hair and warm eyes and smile. Your heart flutters a bit. You shift on your feet.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Reiner leans down beside you, and you clasp your hands, letting the sea wind curl against your neck. Reaching to slip his hand in between yours, he sighs and you lean against his shoulder, glancing at their pile of interlaced fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” you whisper, although even still, you can feel a numbing at your fingertips. You remember what it was like to be a Titan, even now. The sensations haunt you—flashes of your own mutated body, the grotesque meat of your hands sinking into the ankles of the man beside you, the bloodcurdling roar spilling out of your throat.

Glancing at their fingers, you watch the flashes of silver of the rings play in the sunlight, your band now having a matching counterpart on his own hand. You grasp his hands tightly, bringing them up to your lips and his own grip tightens when you dust a kiss gently along his scarred knuckles.

“No,” you finally say at length. “I’m not okay. Going back to Paradis makes me nervous as hell, but we’ll manage.” He nods slowly, and you let go of his hands to wrap your arms around his neck. His own encircle your waist, pulling you flush against him and your eyes close at the familiar warmth—a warmth you’ve woken up next to most days for the past three years.

“Have you eaten yet?” he murmurs, and your fingers play with the soft edges teasing at your pads as his nose presses against your cheek. Your eyes flutter at the soft heat emanating from his skin, and you shake your head, melting against him. With one arm still around you, he slants his body away from just enough to pull a bag out of his pocket and it crinkles as he hands it to you. Taking it, you frown and look inside.

A cream bun. You can’t help the crumbling in your expression and Reiner holds your face in his hands carefully, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Let’s stay positive,” he whispers. “We don’t know the situation until we get there and Historia briefs us.”

“I know,” you whisper and his entire expression eases at your words. His eyes gaze at you as if you’re the sole centre of his universe, and he cups your jaw more insistently, pulling you in for a gentle kiss, one you ease into, your eyes fluttering shut as his tongue traces the seam of your mouth. Laughing, you feel his little nose scrunch and your heart bounds up into your throat as he pulls back only to kiss you again, softer this time.

“Get a room!” A sharp female voice ruins their moment and you pull back just enough to see a red-headed boy running towards them and Reiner crouches down just in time to scoop Xavier up.

“When are you getting married?” he demands. “I was promised cake when you guys got married.”

“I dunno. When you move out of the house I guess,” you tease and Xavier pouts, rubbing at the side of his nose with the heel of his palm.

“Besides, you got cake for your seventh birthday, buddy,” Reiner groans as the boy twists in his arms. “You’re getting heavy. What are you feeding him?” he adds, smiling roguishly at you and you roll your eyes as Alina and Anya approach, sun hats protecting them from the glaring sun. Alina, grocery bags in hand, waves. Anya, who’d been the one to shout, tucks her coin purse back into her bag before flashing you a great big smile.

Only fifteen and seventeen. You can barely recall what it’s like being that young anymore, but you’re grateful they didn’t spend it the way you did. They get to know beauty, and no limits at all. The former comes naturally, the latter is partially because Reiner spoils them rotten.

Alina picks a flower with velvety purple petals from a bouquet she cradles in her arm, extending it to you.

“For good luck,” she says. “And protection.” Your heart melts at her words and you pause for a moment, looking from the gorgeous bloom to Reiner, occupied with the boy in his arms making silly faces at him. Then, without another moment, you sneak the flower behind his ear and he reaches up immediately to hold it against his head, turning to you in surprise.

“To protect the both of us,” you explain.

“Thank you. I’ll be extra careful now.” He looks at the girls, setting his free hand on Alina’s head heavily and she flushes, smiling grandly. “You three behave while we’re gone, alright?”

You nod. “Listen to Levi.”

“And listen to your sister,” Reiner adds to Alina and Xavier. The former rolls her eyes, the latter sticks out his tongue. “I’ll miss you.”

This is their home—their family that tumbles together into a huge hug, and you can’t help but stand back, watching how they all seem to merge into one unit, unaware of where one part of their reach ends and another begins.

As Reiner pulls you into the hug, your heart soars through your body, effortlessly pounding in your throat and in your fingers and everywhere at once. Liquid heat pools everywhere as Xavier screws up his face when you kiss his cheek, the same way Reiner does after he’s eaten something sour.

And maybe it’s a bit different, or a bit broken, the shards of their bloody history still poking at their heels whenever they think you’ve forgotten them, and it’s most definitely not perfect, but you would rather have it like this then anything else.

“Hey, guys!” Breaking apart, the family look over to see Armin, Annie, and Pieck walking over. Gabi and Falco meander a little bit behind, pushing Levi in his wheelchair, and Jean and Connie are running not far behind them, shouting at one another. You stifle a laugh and Xavier shimmies out of Reiner’s hold to run towards them. The girls follow after him, trying to hold back their runs but the closer they get, you can tell the more frantic they are to say goodbye.

So this is what they’ve made a peace. Something, you hope, is good.

Annie bypasses them quickly, making her way over to you and you survey her face as Reiner squeezes your shoulder, walking over to their friends. Her blue eyes are fixed on your face, and you feel your lips curving into a smile as she shoves her hands in her pockets. Her hair is swaying in the wind, gleaming flaxen, and you remind yourself, not for the first time, that Armin and Annie’s kids, if they ever decide they want them, will be gorgeous.

Hope for the future, and all that.

She stops in front of you, tucking a strand behind her ear.

“So,” she says at length, “we’re going back to Paradis. I’m surprised you decided to come with us. You don’t owe any of us anything.”

“I know. But… you’re my best friend. You do the talking, I fly the getaway plane, right?”

“Yeah. There used to be a time when it probably would’ve been the opposite.”

You nod, and they stand in silence for a moment, watching each other. Two women who should not have been friends, but were against all odds. You don’t think you would be here today if it weren’t for Annie.

Your heart lurches and you take a step forward just as she does, her mouth open to say something. You throw your arms around her and she lets out a noise in surprise as you close your eyes. Arms coming underneath yours, her hands dig into your shoulders and you smile against soft hair as she sighs, easing into your hug.

“Finally working together on an actual assignment,” you mumble and her head tilts as her small frame shifts, a hand patting you on the back as a sign for you to back up. “Just like we always said we would.”

Bluntly: “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“You, too.” Pulling back, the two look at one another for another soft moment before you remember the bag in your hand and you shift the bun up in the bag, extending it towards her. “Want some?” Her eyebrows rise in faint delight, before she’s reaching over, pinching and tearing a piece off.

You grin and do the same and you gesture for her to come stand by the rails with you, stuffing the bag into your coat pocket. Leaning against the warm metal again, you hear a seagull call. The plane you’ll be flying to Paradis floats on the water, the technicians giving it the final check before you take off.

If anything goes wrong while you help prepare and oversee accommodations for the rest of the ambassador group, you’ll remember to fire the black signal flare, but you trust Historia. You trust your friends.

You glance over at them, all laughing, and you notice that the flower has gone from Reiner to Pieck, who’s taking it out of her dark hair to tuck it into Jean’s, and his cheeks redden as he brushes it more securely behind his ear.

Annie catches your attention again, pointing out idly that they’ll have to separate soon when they finish with the plane, and you tell her to just wait a couple minutes more as Reiner catches your gaze. Setting Xav, who has somehow wormed his way back into his arms, down, he walks back over to you, and his hand trails purposefully over your back before resting at the nape of your neck, a reassuring weight on your body.

“You guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” Annie replies. “You have a clingy boyfriend,” she tells you.

“I think it’s charming.”

She rolls her eyes. Reiner smiles, and you pat the railing beside you—silent invitation. He leans in on your other side, clasping his hands and watching the fishermen pull themselves to shore, singing a tune to each other—one familiar to all three of them and one that you wish you could get out of your head.

“Soon may the Wellerman come…”

A faint breeze tickling at your fingertips as a sharp call for embarkment splits the harbour, you simply sigh and look over at Reiner. “I just want these last few moments to last.” His eyes meet yours, and he leans forward to press a kiss between your eyes. Annie lets out a soft noise of disgust and you bump your hip against her as Reiner pulls back.

Closing your eyes and lifting your head to the wind, you can almost imagine the one person missing standing on the other side of Annie, dark hair like spun, stained bronze and eyes like warm chocolate. He’d smile and tell them not to worry in that sincere way of his that makes you believe every word he says—as long as they were careful, they wouldn’t walk into any traps.

Your chest aches, and your lips tug into a heart-wrenching smile as you begin to sing along. Reiner slips a hand in between yours, pressing his temple against your head and you loop your other arm through Annie’s.

She rests her head on your shoulder, listening to your voice, eyes on the sailors bringing in their haul below them. Reiner hums the shanty softly, distractedly, eyes cast across the sea.

You tilt your head up to the sky, at the stars you cannot see but will join one day, and smile.

260 notes · View notes

captainlevisteacup · 4 years ago

Note

Oooh, an idea has struck. The brothers reacting to Dom Male!MC reuniting with his childhood bestfriend in the Devildom, only their bestfriend is now a high ranking/powerful incubus who has a fuck ton of influence & money. (Not nearly as powerful as any of the brothers or Diavolo, of course, but you get the point)

And while normally a simple childhood friend wouldn’t be enough to bother the brothers, DM!MC’s Femboy CH!Bestfriend is the optimum of gorgeous, with a lithe & toned body and an “innocent” charm to him.

Spoiler Alert, CH!Bestfriend has been in love with DM!MC since they were kids (though it was just puppy love back then) and is determined to never let him get away from him again, resulting in him being extra clingy and needy.

Another Spoiler Alert, DM!MC’s childhood bestfriend may or may not be a mix of a “Worship” & “Self Sacrifice” Yandere.. (Look up “The Dere Types Wiki” if your confused)

You have some very interesting ideas😂 im so sorry this took so long, I didn't want to post it until I was back up to my full working capacity after getting injured and after breaking up with someone😁

Anyways, without further ado, here ya go😘

The Brother's Reactions to M! MC'S Yandere Childhood Incubus! Friend

Warnings: Violence, Language, Blood, VERY SLIGHT sexual themes, some non-consentual touching in Levi's section, brief mention of drugging in Beel's

Lucifer

At first, didn't think twice of MC having a childhood friend

But when he heard the word incubus

He got the smile on his face

You know the one

Lucifer "innocently" is around whenever the incubus is around

Its starts off small

Little poisoned glances from the incubus here and there

But eventually it escalated and turned into him putting a possessive arm around MC's waist

Lucifer snapped

The second the Incubus was alone, Lucifer followed him down an alley

Slammed that fucker against the wall and held him there by the throat

The incubus started laughing, even when Lucifer tightened his grip

"You'll never get rid of me. I have connections to everyone, Fallen Angel. I've loved him since before you even knew he existed, and a prissy peacock like you isnt gonna stop me from making him mine, even if I have to drug and kidnap him"

Lucifer only smiled and released him

The incubus smirked, daintily dusting off his lithe figure

Thinking he won, he shouldered his way past Lucifer

Only to stop short in horror

Deep growls greeted him

Lucifer didn't even bother hiding the screams of the incubus as Cerberus ripped into him

After a while, he signaled Cerberus to stop

As the incubus lies on the ground whimpering, Lucifer calmly says:

"Now that I've shown you just what I'm willing to do to protect MC, I'll make you a deal. MC cares about you, as a FRIEND. But his heart belongs to me and me alone, and mine belongs to him. If you can understand and respect that, I'll allow you near him. But one wrong word, one wrong placement of a hand, and I won't hesitate to finish you off myself. And believe me," he says with a dark chuckle "I won't be as gentle as Cerberus."

Mammon

This man immediately is on high alert

Someone trying to take what's HIS?

The incubus makes him more greedy than ever

Decides not to leave MC's side for a second

Even when he's sleeping

When Mammon can't help the incu-bitch (his nickname for the childhood friend) being around, he acts sort of like a child, which makes him look like a dick in comparison to the incubus's calm and innocent facade

Mammon tries to tell MC there's something up, but he just chalks it up to Mammon being Mammon

One day, MC randomly receives news from the human world that his mother contracted something contagious and was placed in ICU

The incu-bitch was, of course, right there when MC started tearing up, letting him cry into his shoulder

Mammon sees this and starts to protest

This leads MC to snap and tell Mammon he's being a child

Mammon leaves them be and thinks hard

Comes to the conclusion that maybe MC is right, and he begrudgingly decides to apologize to the incubus

As he approaches him, Mammon catches a glimpse of the Incubus's *expensive* phone

Unable to resist, he throws a coin against the wall in the opposite direction.

When he turns to look at the noise, Mammon snatches the phone and yeets off to his room

When he gets there, he opens the phone- no lock- and is startled by what he sees

A fake texting app, along with the messages telling MC his mother was sick

Mammon was about to run to find MC, when he heard a slight chuckle

Looking up, he saw the incubus...holding a knife

"You just couldn't stay away, could you? You've been a pain in the ass ever since I got here. But no matter, once MC sees how *cruel* you are to his defenseless childhood friend, he'll want nothing to do with you. And he'll be mine to fuck and own as I please."

Mammon gritted his teeth and ground out "Making MC think his mother was gravely ill just to get close to him when he's vulnerable? You're disgusting. I actually care about MC, and I respect them more than you ever will."

The incubus snorted, and raised the knife.

"Oi! What do ya think you're doing with that?" Mammon yelled

He raised the knife....and slashed it across his own arm

He then threw the knife towards Mammon, threw himself to the ground, and yelled out in pain

Suddenly, MC burst into the room

Mammon sputtered out a panicked explanation, but MC cut him off with a stare

He kneeled down next to his friend, who reached up with a bloody hand to cup MC'S face

MC put his hand over the incubus's....and sharply bent it backwards

He leaned down and whispered into his ear: "I heard everything, you little shit. Now, get the FUCK out of my house and away from my boyfriend, and don't even THINK of defiling my life with your presence ever again"

After he left, Mammon cautiously said "boyfriend, huh..?"

"Shut up mammon"

Levi

Oh, this won't do

Immediately feels threatened and triggered

He is the avatar of Envy, after all

His response?

Prove to MC nobody can know him as well as he can

He does this every single time the incubus is near

"MC, I got you your favorite drink!"

"MC, I ordered you some food. Don't worry, I already know what you like"

Flinches whenever the incu-bitch touches MC. It literally makes him cringe

His suspicions are confirmed when the incubus shoots Levi a malicious glance next time he touches MC

Levi snaps

Challenges the incubus to a video game duel

He surprisingly accepts

He cheats like hell and beats Levi

Levi goes into his demon form and rages

But MC thinks he's just being a sore loser

He tells Levi to back off and to go cool down

Once Levi storms off, the incu-bitch thanks MC for standing up for him

Then, he promptly tries to make a move on MC

He reaches out a hand to unbutton MC'S shirt

MC slaps his hand away, but not before noticing writing on the Incubus's hand

Before he can pull away, MC snatches his hand and sees cheat codes written on them

Gets super upset and tries to get up to apologize to Levi

The incubus pulls him back down by his wrist and pins them to the couch

"MC, don't you realize? You're all I want, all I need. I WORSHIP you, MC. And you're going to be mine. Nobody else can have you. And you're going to love me, whether you realize it right now or not. You'll learn with time to need me just as desperately as I need you"

Starts to take off MC'S clothes in spite of their fighting and protests, the incubus shushing him

"Shhhh, I know you don't see it, but this will make you see."

Levi slams open the door, tail lashing and face white with rage

"Get your normie hands the fuck off of my human. Now."

The incubus nopes the fuck out. He may be a high ranking incubus, but he still isn't as strong as one of the seven demon brothers.

Levi holds MC tightly as they fumble over an apology

"Shhh MC, its okay. I'm here now. Let's watch some anime and calm down together, yea?"

Satan

Do I even have to explain this one?

Is hostile as soon as MC even MENTIONS a childhood male friend, let alone an INCUBUS

Honestly, the Incubus is a bit scared of Satan

But, he decides he wants MC more than he fears Satan

So, he swallows his fear and patronizes Satan in tiny, unremarkable ways

Ways that would only be noticed by Satan

A stray hand here and there that lingers a LITTLE too long

Wiping a crumb from MC'S lips during a meal

Tucking a stray hair behind MC'S ear

Every last one of these actions makes his blood boil

It gets so bad that Satan is just in a perpetual state of rage, never leaving his demon form

Satan starts passive aggressively insulting the incubus's intelligence

"Oh, you mean you don't know how disestablishmentarianism impacted the overall congruence of Midwest society? Thats odd, its fairly simple. Practically common sense."

Is shocked when MC got livid at him, because he was being condescending for seemingly no reason

Starts to get angry at MC

"Can't you see? He's trying to turn you against me. Just LISTEN, DAMNIT!" He says as he grabs MC'S shoulders

The incubus barges in and shoves Satan away from MC

"Are you ok, MC? Did he hurt you?"

The amount of white hot rage in the room was tangible

He can't do it anymore

Slams the incubus against the wall

Knocks him to the ground

But when he falls down

A bunch of photos fall out of his jacket

Not normal photos

Horrifying ones

One of MC while he showers

One of MC sleeping

One of MC changing

Even one of MC and Satan having a steamy moment

MC goes still...and then SLAPS the shit out of the incubus.

He wordlessly turns to Satan, eyes pleading

"It would be my pleasure, MC" *evil grin*

Cue Satan dragging the incubus off by his hair

Asmo

P A S S I V E A G R E S S I V E

He sees this lovely incubus with NEARLY perfect hair, a lithe and toned body, and a seemingly innocent attitude, and he just wants him gone

He's been with plenty of Incubi, so he knows what they're like

Because of this, he doesn't want this one anywhere NEAR his darling MC

Comes up with a plan to use all his fashion design connections to outdress the incubus

He knows they're vain by nature, so he comes to the conclusion that this is the best course of action

But there's a problem

"Is that a statement piece from Priya Lacroix? She hasn't even released her collection yet"

Asmo.exe is not responding

He knows that HE is the only one Priya would ever give an early release to

So why does THE INCUBUS have her statement piece?

And WHERE is his phone?

Complains to MC, but MC doesn't take him seriously because he's too busy catching up with his friend

Asmo gets jealous and storms off to do a stress relieving skin routine

As MC and the incubus hang out, the incubus's phone goes off

Only...the ringtone is sinful indulgence

Mammon storms into the room

"AHA! I FOUND YA ASMO, YOU ANNOYING LITTLE- huh?"

"I/N? Why do you have Asmo's phone?"

"MC, you have to understand, I just want you to realize I'm the only right one for you. You NEED to realize you can't be with anyone else. Because you're mine, MC. You always have been."

Screeching could be heard in the distance, then footsteps quickly getting closer and closer

"THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY" Asmo yells as he slams open the door

"As if MC would choose a crusty, obsessive, STEALING, lying, probably STD having Incubus like you over me! Now give me my phone back and get out of here. And while you're at it, take off that Priya piece. There's a reason I'm the only one allowed early access."

Beel

Honestly doesn't think that much of it at first

He thinks its nice MC reunited with one of his childhood friends, and an Incubus at that

But when he meets the friend, something just feels off

He gets a weird sensation, and its not hunger

Its like his senses are on red alert

The incubus was nice enough to Beel, seemingly charming and genuine

But Beel couldn't help but feel rubbed the wrong way, with a sensation similar to seaweed against legs in the ocean

He doesn't want to mention this to MC, because he's convinced he's just overreacting

He feels a little sad that MC is too busy for him, but he does his best to give them time together

One night, he had made some food in the kitchen and decided to bring MC and I/N some

When he neared the door, he almost dropped the plate

He heard a loud thud, and MC saying "Hey, I said no, okay?"

He gently opened the door and looked at MC, who immediately forced a smile to his face

"Hey MC, I brought you guys some food. Is everything ok?"

"Thanks Beel, that's sweet of you. Everything's fine, I promise"

Beel relaxed a bit, although he still knew something was off.

The incubus excused himself to use the restroom, encouraging MC to eat without him

Beel and MC sat down, and Beel scarfed down his portion

Chuckling, MC offered his plate to Beel, who gladly accepted

The incubus opened the door shortly after with an expectant look on his face, as well as rope and a gag in his hands

Upon laying eyes on MC, a shocked expression came onto his face as his eyes darted between MC and the empty plate

"How are you still conscious?" He blurted

Confusion flashed across MC'S face. "What do you mean, I/N?"

"You drugged it, didn't you?" Beel spoke up.

"I thought it tasted odd," Beel continued "but I never would have guessed you would actually drug MC. I'm guessing you couldn't handle that MC rejected your advances, so you drugged the food while MC was distracted talking to me. Am I right?"

The incubus chuckled. "Guess I was wrong about you. You are more of a threat than you seem. Heh, I guess you're not just a talking stomach after all."

A loud smack could be heard shortly thereafter.

But the devastating blow didn't come from Beel

It came from an enraged MC

"Trying to drug me I could keep my cool over. If thats all you did I would have just told you to stay the hell away from me. But the SECOND you spoke to Beel like that, you signed your own death warrant."

Before he could react, MC summoned the brothers one by one, Beel explaining the situation.

"Well, MC, perfect timing as always. I was just beginning to get bored" Satan drawled

*screams*

Belphie

It takes a yandere to know one

Belphie doesn't want to alarm MC though, so he decides to outmaneuver the incubus without him noticing

It starts small, with I/N reaching out to put an arm over MC'S shoulder, and Belphie's arm already being there

Eventually, they start glaring daggers at each other the second MC looks away

After a while, Belphie decides to up the ante

Religiously falls asleep on MC when I/N is trying to spend time with him

Goads the incubus so much that he corners Belphie when he snaps and can't take any more

"Listen, I know exactly what you're doing. But if you think that YOU can take him away from me, you're sorely mistaken. MC is mine whether he likes it or not. And if it turns out to be the latter, well, let's just say he won't have much of a choice in the matter, nor will you have any control over it. Got that?"

Belphie does the one thing he knows will get the outcome he had painstakingly built up to the past couple weeks: he laughs

"Ah, you have a good sense of humor, know that? Funny stuff. All kidding aside, MC already belongs to me. So your child's play isn't gonna cut it. Got THAT?"

With a choked cry of fury, the incubus pulls out a knife and stabs Belphie

Belphie, having planned this, falls to the floor just as the door opens to reveal a shocked MC.

"BELPHIE! Shit, please be okay! What the FUCK is wrong with you, I/N?"

The stunned Incubus could only stammer out a couple words

"I- he...was gonna...tried to take what was mine. Tried to take you..."

MC laughed bitterly and shoved him to the floor.

"I don't know what sick world you're living in, but I belong to Belphie. I love him. And I hate YOU. Now I'll leave you be so you can deal with THAT. Ta ta." He says as he scoops up Belphie and heads out the door

"Deal with what?" I/N nervously asks after him, backing up warily

The incubus stops when his back hits something hard.

Gulping, he looks up...

"Hello, I/N, I'm Beel."

"Nice to...meet you? I imagine you're one of the brothers?" He replies shakily

Beel smiles. The light doesn't reach his eyes.

"Yes, I'm one of the brothers. You see, I'm Belphie's twin."

Across the house, Belphie smiles at the faint screams, MC curled up next to him after patching him up.

He succeeded in protecting what was his. He deserves a good nap. Holding MC tighter, he goes back to sleep.

#obey me #obey me headcanons #beel obey me #leviathanobeyme #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #yandere #yandere belphie #asmo obey me #obey me asks

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bbhyeoliskooks · 4 years ago

Text

«❝ 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐖𝐚𝐲 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 ❞» - PT. TWO

Yeonjun was the one to break up with you, so why does he want you back now?

➸ check part one out here!

«────« ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────»

Pairing: Yeonjun x Reader (female)

Genre: 335 cups of fluff and 3 cups of angst

Warnings: a bit suggestive maybe??? cursing, eating, cheesy cringe stuff hehe, ++ unedited so there may be a lot of mistakes !!

Song: I’ll Never Love This Way Again

(YUH OMG FINALLY I FINISHED THIS REQUEST IM SCREAMING OMG??? i’m so sorry that this took so long, i know a lot of people waited for it 😭😭 and for the anon who requested this bc there wasn’t a notif- keah accidentally deleted it 😭😭. ngl i would die for yeonjun in this. ANYWAY, i hope you enjoyyy~~ i rlly liked doing something like this and yes i have to mention the happiness it gave me at 1am when i finally finished it 😌💕)

«──── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────»

As easy as it was to say compared to real life, Choi Yeonjun was a wreck. A horrible, horrible and you must’ve forget to say- horrible wreck! That is including the duration of time before and after the second time you left.

How he roused one morning to you no where in sight after a vicious night of going out was something he deeply regretted. He would do anything to go back to that day, of course. He wasn’t sure about how you were doing, but jeez did he want to see those bright glints in your eyes whenever you saw him again. To see you smiling like nothing was wrong or giggling when he finally made ticklish contact on those sensitive places or even how you’d frown before him due to his carelessness. His mind drew him back to the ungodly hour of 4am when you scolded him for the scar on his arm he didn’t seem to realize until later and the way you made sure nothing else on his body was hurt. Yeah anyone could tell that didn’t go very well considering he was a boy and you were a girl, but that wasn’t the point!

In simple terms, he missed you more than anyone he’s ever laid eyes upon and the plain truth was that. You weren’t easy to be shaken off his mind after that ordeal of getting you to himself for one, final night. It hurt him most to see the disgusted expression on your face as if you were staring straight at a pile of elephant poop on the ground, not wanting to do anything with it because it was useless and foul. He couldn’t possibly make it your fault too, which meant he shouldn’t have been surprised. Breaking your poor heart by insulting you and taking you for granted, everything was wrong with him for thinking this way!

Whether he liked it or not, his heart said differently about this matter.

Perhaps it was the way you looked that night- he could say- however, it was more than that. With your adoring, sparkling eyes that weren’t easy to miss and your stunning, contagious smile that caused ripples of happiness to fly across the room, he couldn’t blame anyone for falling in love with you. After all, he was a victim of it himself so there was no way he could’ve not in the end. All of those things were true especially, but taking in everything to account as well hanging out with you, your unique individual beauty meant nothing.

He just loved you for you. Loved? No, not loved. Loves. He still loves you for you, and he was a fool to realize it this late. He just lost the best thing in his life due to his stupidity; he knew fully well that you couldn’t ever bring yourself to talk to him face-to-face again if the two of you met again. Would you two even come to meet in the first place? That was the true question here. He and you both knew that due to your resistance and remorse for what happened last weekend that you would never permit yourself to see him. Like he said, he couldn’t blame you for that either.

And yet, why is he trying to convince himself that he’s the only one for you? Your every smile was originally because of him, but now... but now, you’d never let him hear that for one, last time. He couldn’t redo his mistakes of the past of hurting you even if he promised never to do that again. And judging this situation, destiny wouldn’t allow that to happen anyway. With all of your encounters, it seemed as if they all turned out the same way. Everything was ripped into shreds.

«──── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────»

“Wait, so you sLEPT WITH HIM?!” Soobin’s voice reached to a dangerous while the two of you paced around the hallways together, trying to quietly talk about last weekend until he so rudely screamed about your untrue administrations. You clasped your hand over his mouth in instinct, punching his shoulder as a warning to keep quiet or else. His body heaved with hearty chuckles while you screamed, telling him to keep his voice down so that you could truly tell him the whole story.

“Soobin! That’s not true; I wouldn’t do anything like that, ever!”

“Well, he’s your ex- and he’s hot, so why wouldn’t you sleep with him?!”

Now some of the students subtly shuffled around to eavesdrop on your conversation, and you groaned at the newfound attention. Just what were you thinking about telling him when sometimes he could contradict himself to be this loud?! It was steaming tea, yes, but no one else had to hear about it! You should’ve told him this stuff at lunch when the two of you were alone.

Swiftly pulling Soobin to the vacant hallway where thankfully no one else was walking, you made sure to keep your voice to a faint hush. You weren’t sure if he could hear you, but you couldn’t risk involving anyone else in this personal matter. Students passed by all around you in the other hallway, holding conversations and walking in groups which was a good sign you could actually speak normally since no one was paying attention anymore.

“So did you or did you not?” He mused, ruffling the top of your head. You pushed his hand away, rolling your eyes at his playfulness when the gravity of the situation needed to be comprehended instead.

“Soobin, I told you we never slept together in that sense last weekend. We were both drunk and shared the same bed! It doesn’t mean anything and we aren’t going to get back together,” you held your breath through those words as you watched the amused smile on his face turn into a pitiful, pouting lip. His adorable puppy dog eyes that were begging you not to get mad at him didn’t seem to work now, and you found yourself telling him off even if you didn’t mean to in the first place.

“You’re so stupid for thinking that, you know?! Yeonjun’s a jerk, I have no clue why I ever got with that bastard in the first place! God, if you never let us meet together then you know I would’ve been happy now. Just why did everything have to turn out this way?!”

The walls of your heart you tried so hard to buttress through your words and actions crumbled with every second you spoke, disintegrating into pure dust the moment your voice leveled to reach your anger. Your chest was trembling as you choked out the last few words, unable to say anything anymore as a lump appeared in your throat. You hated being weak in front of him the most because he’s seen you so many times like this before and he’d very clearly think of you as a crybaby.

He seemed to understand this, shooting you a gently smile as some small encouragement. It was that smile that urged you to snap out of your evil trance immediately. For saying all those rude things to him, it was contradictory since at that very moment you wanted to take everything back. The guilt ate you up in an instant once you took in his dumbfound yet soft expression, causing you to envelope him in a warm embrace as contrition. He never deserved this treatment when it wasn’t even his fault anyway.

“I... I’m sorry, Soobin. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. It’s just so hard on me now since I know I shouldn’t have done that with him last weekend. We didn’t do a lot, and yet I still want to say that I love him...? Even now I won’t allow myself to cry and be weak but,” your voice faltered as your body slightly shivered, “I can’t do it. I just can’t be strong anymore. It’s so hard.”

Soobin sighed, generously allowing you to lean on him like last time. You were so strong- you had always been so strong in front of him, and it hurt him to see that you were slowly breaking no matter how much you tried to stop it. He could see right through the so called smile you shot him this morning as soon as you saw him. He knew right then and there that something happened to you during the weekend and when he heard it was all about Yeonjun... he had to contain himself not to beat up his best friend or else the friendship he treasured dearly would crash, fall, and wouldn’t withstand.

However, the truth remained. Little by little, you were shattering due to Yeonjun’s actions and he could only watch helplessly as you flew freely to the ground. It was an understatement to say that he was starting to hate his best friend for doing this to you, but in the end he believed you. If you did it before, then you could do it again right? And you knew that Soobin was always right there for you no matter what.

Last month you gave it your all in order to move on. He truly admired that you kept running and running towards the future even if you felt that there was no end, a quality he secretly cherished of you. As a person, you were strong in your own way and Soobin was proud of you. He just didn’t know how to say it now without making the bright atmosphere droop. It was always like this whenever a problem with your relationship arose. He brought you closer to his arms.

“You’re not weak at all for crying, Y/N. I think you’ve been holding it for too long now. You’re always welcome to come to me, alright? I’ll save you from that stupid Yeonjun and make you happier than he ever has! You deserve someone much better. You and I both know this.”

He wiped your every tear which streamed against your cheek with his thumb gently, and somehow you finally smiled. Ardent, genuine, and sincere, your smile was enough to cause another one of his own towards you, a great deal of blinding happiness all around you. You were sure Soobin was waiting for this after a while, although it came out at a surprising time. You didn’t expect it either.

This was another feeling you couldn’t ever get enough of, for it reminded you of the time when Yeonjun asked you to be his... but comparing it to this wasn’t right at all.

No words were spoken between the two of you, but it really did mean a great deal of comfort to you. How could he offer up this ample amount of support towards you? You made a promise to yourself to make it up to him one day.

A few minutes later, you reluctantly pulled away from his sweet hug to check the time on your phone. You weren’t sure how long you’d been holding each other like this (and you really did enjoy it), but if you kept dawdling then you would miss every single afternoon class. Your eyes scanned through the upper numbers.

Crap. You already missed the first few minutes!

You scrambled to get yourself off him, pulling your bag over your shoulder in a haste. “Wait, I’ll tell you the details later!” You waved your hand for a flimsy goodbye, rushing to get every paper in your bags in check. It was a pathetic bye, that was for sure. You rushed out before Soobin could even mutter a bye, hoping to get there in good time so that you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of everyone. Oh, well. You’ll see him later.

Your footsteps faded away little by little and yet another set rippled through his ears through little clacks on the spotless floor. He wondered if you were coming back to ask him something but before he could turn around, sweet words that were due to a familiar tone made his heart stop in place.

“Please, take care of her for me.”

...

Upon hearing that voice Soobin halted in his tracks, looking back at a pair of warm, brown eyes that met his own. By the looks of it, he heard everything you said. Not to mention that it was the second time the boy eavesdropped at that.

“Soobin, please? You can date her even if it hurts but just please... if I can’t look after her, then who else’ll take her to her favorite restaurant?”

The pleas did not matter to him all the more, if he was being honest. This game was something he didn’t want to be involved in but looks like fate had its plans. It was obvious now. He hated this and although he said you deserved better, it was clear that the two of you were destined to be together.

«──── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────»

The door clamorously creaked as soon as you entered, making you cringe at the sudden but minimal heads that turned towards you. You shyly offered up a smile, reorganizing the books in your hands to pass off some of the attention somewhere else. Some of the people there were doing their own things and focused on talking to each other to an extent. You sighed gratefully. Thankfully you could sit alone at a spot where no one would notice you at the top of the row.

After you wondered where the rest of the students were and the professor whom you searched for in every direction, you gave up with a relieving drop of your shoulders and decided to sit down. Glancing at the time, you muttered how stupid you were under your breath for reading the clock wrong. You were fortunately five minutes earlier, but looks like you have to wait now until the lesson starts.

Getting situated in your spot was an easy thing and you toyed with your phone when you heard a shuffling of clothes sitting next to you on the right. It wasn’t such a good time to be socializing right now since you felt like crap but if you were going to make new friends, you might as well do so now. After all, college was supposed to be a good experience minus all the endless assignments and projects to prepare for your future.

You managed to steal a look at the person who sat right next to you but became paralyzed in your spot when you realized who it was, whipping your head where you wouldn’t be able to get distracted by him. That dazzling, blue hair was unmistakable. And the perfect, rosy lips were too! How could you not be tainted when he chose to sit next to you?! Seeing as the latter was impossible when you heard his deep voice murmur the words ‘good morning,’ a bead of sweat collected at your forehead. He was never this bold before after you broke up, and you pondered if he wanted to be good friends again after what happened. The audacity was unbelievable.

You couldn’t understand why he’d choose to be beside you when there were many more other open spots in the room. He must’ve been mocking you, making fun of you after how weak you looked a few days before.

The question was though, why the hell was he sitting right there?! Right next to you?! You could feel the words becoming stuck in your throat as you choked out a good morning back, too anxious to say anything or else it’d initiate a conversation between the two of you. That was the least thing you wanted to do as of now, wasting all your energy on the time spent convincing yourself he’d make up some small talk. That time however never came, and you were left politely smiling at the one and only Choi Yeonjun when you randomly found him staring at you.

The professor finally arrived, lifting off a heavy burden on your chest when you could’ve been dreading the lesson instead. You should’ve left before as to not create any conflict, but anymore absences and your future would’ve been as good as dead. Although you could look at the bright side now! Yeonjun wouldn’t be able to talk to you or else he’d miss some important things which would in turn affect his grades. You threw a grateful smile towards the center of the cavernous room, becoming a little bit relaxed even if some part of you was still freaking out he was that close to you.

The class was a blur, pointless information echoing throughout the room you didn’t care to learn since you were dozing off. Your mind was too busy looking back at the events that went down last weekend, becoming more tired with every second that passed. It was hard to get your brain off that addicting stuff called overthinking every single time you caught Yeonjun staring at you with tender, soft eyes. Simultaneously, you were hoping no one would call you out for daydreaming of what could’ve been, so you hid behind a tall person’s blonde head, hoping not to be caught.

Sadly, you were brought back to the room when a chorus of sighs collected together to make a violin whimper of disappointment.

“You will be working with the person beside you on the right,” the professor declared, clearing their throat while most of the class groaned altogether. Wait so that means...

In an instant, everything seemed way too overheated in the room now. Were you the only one feeling hot or what?! You knew fully what was supposed to come next since you were the only two sitting on the top, the rest of the bottom being filled out by tons of people who were tuning in to the lesson.

Sometimes life doesn’t work the way we want it to. That itself was obvious. Otherwise you’d be somewhere else being happy instead of working with this jerk!

You couldn’t help the frustration of curses you thought in your head, glaring at the boy who was giggling cutely to himself.

“Oh, looks like you’re paired up with me! I can’t wait to work with you, Y/N~” The tone of his voice made your heart skip a beat, the all too familiar teasing getting to your head. As you expected, whatever he said would have an effect on you, instantly making you heat up at how true that statement was.

Smiling, you gulped, feeling too parched all of a sudden. God only knows how much you wanted to get out of there right away. You were dying not to embarrass yourself, collecting your books together as you slathered a polite tone to your voice. Somehow you got the words out despite making clear eye contact with him way too long for your own good. It felt so wrong to say he was a masterpiece but it felt so right to keep looking at him like this.

“Where should we work?” Yeonjun asked once more.

He leaned closer to you, leaning on his hand as he maintained an direct, intent gaze. Your lips formed into a straight line, hopelessly wishing he wouldn’t see how much of a mess you were in front of him. Then he licked his lips. That was the end of you! He and you both knew that it was meant to be flirtatious. Your ears burned at the sight. Well that was enough to be looking at his eyes now! You foolishly turned away.

“Hmm, how about we meet at the bakery everyday at five? Are you okay with that?” Yeonjun suggested, raising an eyebrow to comprehend your unsure expression. You nodded your head acceptingly, albeit a bit defeated. He shouldn’t have been expecting anything. You were fine with whatever place you could meet up by, but didn’t he know that you weren’t fine working with him?!

After the quiet and easily awkward atmosphere, you turned on your heel getting up from the exhausting spot. It was much too uncomfortable for you to plan out a schedule with him, and second you weren’t able to catch the directions with him chatting it up a bunch.

Of course you wanted to be mature about the situation, but it was impossible for you. If it was another person, then you would’ve been fine. You could ask around but that itself was scary too. Your heart was in a tugging predicament with you in between, and you weren’t sure what to choose. Seems like Yeonjun was your only choice now. It would’ve helped you move on but with him right there, it would be harder to really think about yourself for once. You shot him one more look, hoping it would be the last.

“Yeonjun, don’t think you’re fooling me with this flirting. You know I can’t work with you after what you said. I’m sorry, but find someone else who’ll be open to being your partner.” You opted to get up from your seat, trying to dash away as quickly and quietly as possible until he said something that made you paralyzed as you got up.

“Y/N, please wait!”

Suddenly the world stopped and in it, you could only see the two of you with Yeonjun clinging gently to you.

He grabbed your arm before you could move to another seat, holding on tightly just to make you stay. You winced at how warm it was compared to your shaking arm, avoiding his vulnerable eyes due to embarrassment. You didn’t know how you were supposed to do this project anyway when you couldn’t even look at him in the first place.

“I know, and I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have done whatever we did while we were drunk and bothered you like that. Just... can you work with me this once? I want you to get a good grade with me.”

Gradually, his words became inaudible at the end, as if too ashamed to say it out loud. It was an understatement to say what he said was surprising. Therefore you couldn’t help but gasp at how vulnerable he got when you tried to move away from him when you thought he would’ve let you go after what happened. It was clearly too much for you to see his adorable puppy dog eyes, glistening and sparkling with sincerity when you safely decided to look back at him, feeling weak in the knees with uncertainty of what to say.

And although you wanted to say no so badly, you spoke without thinking and murmured something only he could hear.

“Okay then... Let’s do well.”

«──── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────»

Before you knew it, five pm rolled by and you were face-to-face at the bakery where Yeonjun was waiting for you. At this point, you were reluctant to go through with this since you could easily say you hadn’t found anyone to do the project with. But knowing that the teacher was stubborn and hardheaded when they made plans like these, it would be impossible to convince him to let you work alone. Plus, you actually got ready instead of throwing your favorite hoodie this time! You couldn’t let all your extra effort and special preparing to go to waste just because it was Yeonjun.

And gosh, you just had to remind yourself it was Yeonjun again.

The advances were simple. You had brought all your heavy books relating to the subject, hoping they’d be able to help but now all they seemed to do was weigh you down from getting the door. The wind was heartless, sending icy gusts through your clothes as you heaved out a sigh. It would’ve been good if you just left now instead. But this would only make matters worse. You swiped your phone again, purposely ignoring the contact name of ‘Stupid Mean Jerk Jjuniebug.’ He hadn’t texted you yet saying he was there so you hesitated a tiny bit before reaching for the golden door handle and eventually going inside.

The warm smell of cookies, cakes, and a variety of baked breads welcomed your nose, making the corners of your lips turn up with satisfaction. Out of all the distractions in the world, the Boulangerie was such a perfect place to go to do anything, really. If it wasn’t for your stupid project, you’d probably relax and enjoy a cup of your favorite drink paired with one of the delights they had here! It sounded like flawless idea. Happily, you made a mental memorandum in your head to plan out a day with Soobin where the two of you could hang out and tell stories to each other. He would definitely enjoy this place because of all of the bread you could order.

Surprisingly, Yeonjun was there already and you assumed he was writing something important down due to the determined expression on his face. He furrowed an eyebrow, slightly biting is lip while you inched towards him. You couldn’t help the smile that arose on your cheeks because of how endearing he looked as he worked hard, holding tightly to the books in your arms when you finally came close to him.

He looked up from his little notes of hearts and bunnies he was doodling as soon as a pair of shoes made unpretentious clitter-clacks, eyes lighting up with admiration when he realized that it was you standing there.

“I ordered your favorite dessert while waiting for you. Do you still like it?”

The words got stuck in your throat. He got you something? He must’ve been thinking of your arrival too attentively otherwise there’s no way that was true, but gosh did Yeonjun prove you wrong in a second.

Glancing at the sweets before you paired with a dainty teacup of your favorite drink, a gasp left your lips that embodied awe since he still remembered what you liked to order whenever you came to the Boulangerie with him. The snow white lace of the table fabric created flashbacks in your mind and you tensed up in realization. You hadn’t come here in two months- the last time you were able to picture your last date with him. Although, that wasn’t the point at all.

You were not to be expecting anything after the two of you separated even if the two of you were exes. It was just in Yeonjun’s moral codes in life to be kind to anybody and especially you whenever he please just because it was normal to him. You adored how pure he was, but at the same time you couldn’t shake how he acted towards you almost two months ago. That hostile expression on his face- one you’d never seen before- couldn’t ever be erased from your memory no matter how much effort you put in it.

But the past was the past. No bad things could happen like that now, could it? It was all because the two of you broke up. You were exes.

And yet, you could smile freely like nothing of the sort happened towards the two of you. After all, it was the right thing to do wasn’t it? Yeonjun would’ve wanted you to do that too, you knew it deep inside despite desiring to deny it. To move on and not have any feelings of pent up frustration and anger towards each other. Joy swelled in your heart at how much maturity you were gaining because of heartbreak. Maybe the two of you could be friends. Maybe.

“Thank you so much for doing this even if you didn’t have to, Yeonjun. I’m surprised you even came since your friends are much more interesting than me. I’m glad that you did though.”

You decided to take a bite in the delicacy, immediately not regretting the dulcet decision as you relished in the simple sweetness that came with it. Honestly, you missed this wonderful, mouth watering taste so much! Just like what you remembered, you shut your eyes in pure content, not being able to take in the sight of the boy in front of you who chuckled to himself.

Yeonjun heaved a breath of amusement from his chest, cheek laying down on his hand again as his eyes showed nothing but the sincere feeling of endearment towards you. He shifted comfortably on his side, grabbing one of the crimson, bright strawberries from his plate as he bit onto the juicy tip of it.

“You know, you’re always cute when you smile like that,” he whispered, not caring whether or not you heard it- which you obviously did.

You puffed your cheeks out at this.

“Shut up...! We’re here for a project, remember? Not to... flirt, silly.”

The mischievous yet saccharine grin on his face made you flustered and you glanced away from him, pretending to look at the tray of enclosed desserts that you saw when you first entered the bakery. You couldn’t allow yourself to become distracted like this! Not to mention that looking at him straight through doesn’t seem to help either!

“Oh, but when I look at you I can’t seem to focus on anything else. I’m being serious here; I just really can’t seem to take my eyes off you.”

The slamming yet gentle sound of you slamming the spoon you were holding on the table gave everything away and his eyes turned into euphoric crescents that only signaled delight.

“Yeonjun, I said shut your trap. All these cheesy compliments and I’ll... we have to do our project, so please cooperate and let’s put our work together to actually do something good.” You pulled your books together in a pile, acting as if you were really doing something in order to distract him from teasing you. The raging beat of your heart begged to differ, so you hoped he wouldn’t hear it or else that would give him another reason to make you flustered.

“As you wish, princess. We’ll work so well together that you’ll miss me once I drop you home!”

Princess...?

He’ll drop you home...?

You groaned in annoyance at the nickname and offer although you kind of enjoyed it, wanting to smack Yeonjun in the mouth for not listening to your request. He must’ve been deaf or something because the whole time he kept throwing coy phrases you’d never heard before or trying to whine about how much work it all was for the two of you.

You were only starting to understand how annoying he was whenever he got cranky and dozed off for thirty minutes, leaving you to search through all those books and gather information yourself which was luckily a lot of help. It was a nice silence for a while but once he got back to annoying you endlessly, you swore you could rip all your hair off from the frustration building up from inside of you.

How were you going to do a week of working with him when you couldn’t even look at him in the eye every time he made pouty, kissing lips? Or take him seriously whenever he called you a pet name for that matter? You wished future you the best luck, unfortunately not knowing what would arrive in the times to come.

...

“Hey, could you look at this for a second? I’m having trouble if I should or more exactly- how I should put this down when it makes no sense.”

You laughed at how clueless he was when it came to his favorite subject, shuffling right beside him to see what he was struggling with. It was too natural, too suspicious for the both of you not to know this. You contained the snickers of mock once you put it all together, silently calling him stupid in your head for not being able to jot down this simple effortless thing. You twisted your body towards the notes, enough for your shoulders to meet together.

Little did you know that Yeonjun only wanted you to come close to him, and it was more than suffice to say it worked out in his favor.

You were explaining everything to him but the only thing he could focus on was the little things about you. The bitty, endearing gestures of your hands while you connected two of the subjects, the way your chest heaved up and down when you took a tiny breath of air, and even how your lips opened and closed was enough for Yeonjun’s fluffy cheeks to heat up and bloom into a rosy red. The words droned off as it echoed between the two of you, easily becoming pointless since he wasn’t paying attention anyway.

A couple of seconds passed between the two of you when the bakery suddenly became silent, and he gripped the pencil he dropped earlier on the table as you shot him a shy smile. Yeonjun’s knuckles became white with every second his stare lingered on you. You were way too cute for your own good, and you didn’t even know it- so why was he surprised? He, too, was hoping you wouldn’t be able to notice the aggressive thumping in his chest.

“Yeonjun? You got all of that, right?” Your symphony-like voice snapped him from out of his trance.

“Okay, then I’ll put that down,” he breathed tiredly.” It looks like he was getting exhausted too, huh? You were about to say a few words of encouragement until he cut you off with his own.

“We’re almost done researching; just hang in there, alright? You’ve been doing so well, Y/N.”

The gentle, supporting words was enough to send ripples through your heart and you nodded your head, all the while checking through what you noted and what you forgot. You wanted to keep thinking about what he said and how it motivated you to keep going. You didn’t want to upset you and most definitely not him. However, the fatigue coating your eyes was too much and you slowly closed the heavy lids, head slowly turning to the side before you fell on something all too familiar.

A sudden yet light weight on his shoulder made him look up from what he was writing down, stunning him in his spot when he saw you had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He must’ve known that this much thinking wore you out after such a long while. A tender smile decorated his lips and he took in your every feature, hoping to draw out the face that made him feel alive.

“She’s so cute...” He grabbed his jacket from the side he’d taken off earlier, laying it gently upon you with his other hand as if it was something he’d done since the beginning of time. You nuzzled your cheek against his way too comfortable shoulder, becoming more snug with each minute that passed by. He couldn’t help the skip in his heartbeat when you muttered his favorite nickname in your sleep, this ‘Jjuniebug’ being much more different compared to the past because he knew you were dreaming of him.

When such a sight like this was to be treasured by anyone, he decided he didn’t want to work anymore. Like the gentleman he was, he gathered your books together, pushing your plate to the side before laying his head against yours. He intertwined your hands with his, grinning gently from ear to ear at the warmness he felt from inside.

He stole one more glance at you, fingers delicately dancing from your cheekbone all the way to your chin, tracing your jaw as gingerly as he could. This was what he was hoping for after such a long time of not receiving it. That itself was rightfully so, yet having you near meant the world and so much more to him.

Then he glanced out the window where rain was drizzling, creating a dreading gray atmosphere which was nothing but chaos. It could’ve been something that alerted him on such a dreary day, making him anxious at how he was going to get home in a mess. But to him, he wouldn’t trade this peaceful present. Always, he wanted to be close to you like this. It couldn’t have been too much to ask, honestly.

“Tell me,” he said to no one in particular, “how can you make a moment last forever?”

«──── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────»

Tuesday passed as quickly as Monday did and you swiftly got prepared for five pm later. You were bouncing with excitement, ready to see the boy who’d been waiting for you over at the library, a place you decided together when he texted you during lunch break. To be true to yourself, you couldn’t wait to work with him. All day you were waiting for the horrid, slow hours to pass of lectures and countless assignments online, lingering silently through the minutes that seemed to go by forever in hopes that everything would go faster. The relief you felt when you were dismissed for the day and the joy that swelled in your heart when you went home, preparing yourself as best you could.

You didn’t understand why you were buzzing with energy over meeting someone like this, for wasn’t it true the two of you were exes? Two months ago you broke up; that was quite obvious. It didn’t help that and that number one: he was a jerk after a while of dating you, and number two: he was probably playing with your heart if you decided to be smart. But then again you always rewarded that guilty pleasure by saying the past was the past and he bought you your favorite delicacy. He may have hurt you before and because of that, you promised yourself you wouldn’t ever date him ever again.

With that thought in mind you threw your favorite outfit on that you planned just the night before, looking in the mirror twice just to make sure you looked okay. Deep down you knew it was a lie to say you weren’t doing these special things for him, trying to convince yourself that in doing so- this dressing up would do your ego a favor. Yeonjun didn’t have to see this, not at all! It was all because you wanted to look decent. Just that.

So sneakily, you crept out of the house while slipping your shoes on since nobody would notice you were gone. You checked your phone at least twice before opening the door, clearly not ready for the surprising sight your eyes landed upon as soon as you left home.

In front of you was the boy who had taken your mind captive all day, smiling from ear to ear as his fingers combed gently through his blue hair.

You gasped at how he actually came to your house after teasing yesterday that he would, but you never knew he’d carry out his plan. He would keep poking your cheek while saying something under his breath like how he’d visit you one day to pick you up. He would never do that, right? Well no, you were extremely wrong and just a day after your project date went well.

Nonetheless, you couldn’t stop the touched grin on your face to know he was waiting for you.

“Hey, Y/N,” he shyly giggled and that itself made your heart skip a beat, “let’s walk to the library together today, alright? Wait, let me take your books, please!”

Even with your protests and several no’s, he still took your books and placed it snugly against his left arm, teasing about how light they were together. You glared at him for a second before taking a few steps when he suddenly grabbed your hand.

You turned around, eyes wide in a daze.

“What is it?”

An overwhelming heat rose up to your cheeks and ears, making you feel hot in the face as you realized he was still holding on.

“If it isn’t too much to ask, can I hold your hand today? I really miss the warm feeling you gave me last summer.”

He held his hand out expectantly, waiting for you to take it on your own accord. You easily obliged- albeit a bit hesitantly- putting your hand against his and allowing him to guide you to wherever- whenever he wanted. The way his eyes lit up as he lead you to the place was precious, making you feel soft with endearment at how gentle he treated you.

Now this? This was bad. So, so bad.

On the day you left Yeonjun’s house in tears, you weren’t expecting any of this to happen. You weren’t sure how you could trust him so easily after everything he’s done- maybe it was the way you felt his sincerity in every smile he sent you or how tenderly he had grabbed your hand just now, but the happiness bottling up inside you did not lie. You felt pure jubilation whenever you saw him.

«──── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────»

It was Wednesday.

Wednesday, the middle of the school days where you desperately wanted to claw your eyes out from how tedious everything was. Wednesday, a day where nothing significant happened but nothing too horrible happened either. Wednesday, a reminder that you only had two days left- counting today and Thursday- to work with Yeonjun. You hated the bitter taste of having to really say goodbye, but the future had to be on the brighter side then. After this, you swore you wouldn’t ever see him and his damn handsome face for another accidental time.

Just about reaching four in the afternoon, you decided to go with Soobin over to the Boulangerie where you’d been promising yourself to take him since Monday. It was luck on your side today that you actually went out for some fresh air, carrying out some of the awaiting plans you had on your checklist. Sometimes it was nice to have a breather in the middle of the week when everything else was distracting.

It started off as usual, and you realized you hadn’t seen him since that very day of hearing Yeonjun’s offer to be your partner. To be quite honest, you didn’t really think about telling him since it shouldn’t be that important, but the boy knew it was important just by from the hesitance in your expressions. His fingers placed the glass filled with chocolate milk on the table gently and curiously prodded.

“Y/N? You’ve been acting strange lately; is everything okay?”

You glanced up from the china plate, eyes widening with surprise. You weren’t sure what he was talking about. It couldn’t have been anything important, could it? Or were you being so obvious about your giant, giant problem?

“Yeah, everything is fine, Bin! Trust me, there isn’t anything going wrong but I guess you could say that... from your perspective.”

You made sure to look at the way he reacted and seeing how his head titled with wonder, you chose to give it a try.

“Well... I should’ve called you about this but I’m working with Yeonjun for a project. We have to turn it in by Friday, but we’ve been doing stuff on it since Monday. It doesn’t mean anything though, and we’re supposed to meet up at the park (Moonlight) today.” You intentionally left out the fact he asked you and those sweet moments since you were afraid of his reaction.

You knew he was one to be respectful and kind no matter the person, although because of all this tugging back and forth between his best friends- you couldn’t blame him for wanting to sock either one of you for being so stupid. And stupid were you and Yeonjun for not being able to get enough of each other, at least that’s how you viewed it. Soobin wouldn’t dare to hurt either one of you since the two of you were best friends; physically wouldn’t cut it. You hoped he would just remain patient like he’d always have- one thing you were grateful for, obviously, instead of freaking out at the recent moments you’ve experienced.

That being said, the look on Soobin’s face was absolutely priceless once you told him about your predicament.

“You two? On a project? TOGETHER?!”

Glumly you nodded your head, expecting him to say something but his mouth was filled with shock to the brim that he couldn’t even bring himself to say anything.

“Yup, that’s true. You didn’t know about it?” To say the least, you were surprised he didn’t know about it since Yeonjun was one to trust him about everything. Little things like this would count, yes, and you could very vividly remember how he blabbed to Soobin when you first started dating about how to keep a girl on her period happy.

In response, he shook his head, hand still glued covering his mouth. Your lips slightly turned upwards at his melodramatic feedback.

“No, he didn’t tell me anything at all about it! Why are you guys keeping secrets from me?”

Ouch, that stung. But at the same time, what were you expecting?

“That’s a surprise. I thought he couldn’t keep his mouth--”

The deafening, shuffling sound of the store bell rang throughout your ears, causing you to shudder at the intermittent sound. This was a popular Boulangerie so you didn’t need to be surprised whenever a new customer came in, but it stunned you at the worst times. You shrugged at Soobin’s suddenly ghost white reaction, thinking he was just kidding with you again and went back to the cup of a refreshing drink. Honestly, you couldn’t care less about it unless it was someone you knew.

You lifted the cup to pass through your lips until the familiar sight of messy radiant, blue hair caught the peripheral vision of your eye.

It had to be him. It couldn’t be anyone else.

“Y-Yeonjun...?”

As your heart dropped to your stomach, your voice broke out gently, making you the only person to hear it muffled with both distress and disbelief. There was no possible way you were witnessing what was happening in front of you. You didn’t want to believe it, squinting your eyes over and over again just to get a good look. It was still him no matter what you did, no matter what you changed.

Somehow, he didn’t notice you.

He sat down at a table, sending a sugary smile towards an alluring girl who sent him the same one back. Your back became rigid at the too close proximity of their faces. They chatted for a little bit about anything that could cross their minds, obviously flirting with the stares sent back and forth and back again until it turned into a full discussion- both of them laughing their hearts out. Happiness from the ideal ‘couple’ (as anyone could’ve mistaken them) spread around the Boulangerie contagiously, making everyone awe at the sight of them fully enjoying themselves. But you? You? Your heart shattered piece by piece while watching this play out.

Too many questions flooded in your mind at once as well as too many insecurities, paralyzing you in your spot as you couldn’t find the correct way to breathe again. It was getting too hard to find the air in, you realized. Soobin called your name out many times- to get you to listen, to get you out of your stupid trance, to get you to do anything else in the world but look because it’d hurt you just as much as it did for him!

To this, you were only sitting still, staring and staring like a dormant painting hanging in a museum just to find out that you wouldn’t ever be able to change anything, but only see the people in front of you. You didn’t want to look at the face of pain in front of you but... if you looked away then something else might happen.

You cradled yourself in your arms, trying to stop the icy cold breeze that whirled pass your rips and over to the tips of your toes. It didn’t make sense to you. Why even bother putting effort into winning him back? You wouldn’t be able to be as good enough. You shouldn’t have even tried in the first place.

You gulped down those insecurities again, trying to calm your shaking hands.

It wasn’t possible to be that perfect... not at all. She was such a stunning girl, the epitome of everything you weren’t and what you didn’t have. She had such sparkling eyes, such a gorgeous smile, and not to mention an impeccable complexion that had every single girl in the world jealous. Everything about her was simply perfect and that drowned your own specialties into the deepest ocean called hatred.

Once again you glanced at Yeonjun who seemed to be having fun with the deep chuckles and smiles he was freely giving up. Oh, how bad you wanted it to be you but this reminder was one that gave you a wake up call. You never really had a chance in the first place.

He then turned his head a little to the side, ultimately being able to see you sitting next to Soobin just like you had planned. His honeyed brown eyes changed from smug into something unreadable you couldn’t put your finger on before changing in a split second to look back at the girl.

The decision dawned on you, and you clenched your fists until you felt flashing, white pain run through your fingers.

He didn’t even care.

You were stupid enough to believe he actually liked you back again. You were stupid enough to think that with all these sweet interactions and words, he was warming up to you for another countless time. You were stupid to think he was being truthful that drunken night, saying he needed you clearly as much as you needed him. Finally, you were stupid enough to think he loved you. Now the proof was smack dab in your face, blinding you from your goal of hating him, and you were such a fool to be thinking he would really be yours after such a long while.

The glossy tears gathered in your eyes, angry, frustrated but pointless words with no explanation becoming more stuck in your throat when you glanced once more at the sight across from you. Time passed by through the regal clock, ringing in an ear and out the other. One way or another, you needed to get out of there and you needed it to be now.

You hastily slung your bag filled with papers over your shoulders, making sure you hid the flowing tears from everyone’s sight. Just one turn and he’d probably see you so pitiful at the wrong time. You certainly didn’t want to look pathetic, especially not in front of Yeonjun, whom you still loved with all your heart.

In a dash, you aggressively swiped the entrance of the door handle and into the day where you just wanted to disappear. Bell ringing haphazardly behind you, you weren’t able to perceive you were out of the bakery until another customer ignored your everblooming sadness, struggling behind you to get the door. Tears soon fell on the ground after holding them in for too long, signaling your vulnerability as you crouched down behind the bakery to let everything keeping your heart captive out. This time, for real, you really weren’t going to see him again even if it meant your grades being obliterated.

You hated him. You hated him so much for what he did back there.

And yet here you were, running away from your problems again.

«──── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────»

“Y/N?”

It was a mistake. It was all a mistake. You shouldn’t have pressed accept without looking at the contact name. You were just so stupid that it was funny. Just another one of the reasons why he wouldn’t ever want to date you again. How could you blame him for breaking up with you?

“Y/N, you there?”

He was seeing another girl, you should’ve known. Why didn’t you know? Why did you have to be such a fool to be used in the first place? And why the hell were you sad about it when you could be using this opportunity to be getting over him?!

“Y/N, you’re not responding and I’m getting worried. Is there something I can do? Please...?”

You were just exes. Exes, for crying out loud! Exes. That’s all.

“Y/N, if you’re there just-”

“yeah, I’m right here,” you murmured quietly, caring any less that he might have not heard you in the end. If he was able to really see how you accidentally looked at him earlier, then surely he would’ve known how the world crashed on your shoulders just by looking at you. Oh, but it was funny wasn’t it? It didn’t matter anyway. After all, he wouldn’t give a damn right? Not what he did back there he wouldn’t.

Because of that, you realized that this conversation with him was not needed. Whether it was because of the project or if it was for a favor, you wouldn’t be able to do it without looking weak in his eyes. Your finger hovered over the red button, tempted to press hang up until again, his act of using a concerned voice tugged painfully on your heart strings.

“Wait, are you okay? Do you need me to be there? Something’s wrong, I know you’re not okay,” he tried for another time, breathing through the call tiredly as if he was oblivious to what went on earlier. The hate for him smoldered in your chest, and your fingers tightened around the phone so arduously that they turned white, shaking hysterically.

“No, I...” you felt your voice break, and you covered the change in pitch by clearing your throat. With the lump so gigantic that you couldn’t even breathe, it hurt to tell him a lie, much less speak at that moment. You put on a tone to make it more believable. “Everything’s fine. Just busy right now.”

“You’re lying,” he whispered so softly into the receiver you were wondering yourself if you had heard him in the first place. You forced yourself to laugh at his statement, but it came naturally, knowing it was all too true.

“I’m not lying, I promise! I just took a nap, that’s all. No need to be so worked up over me.” You figured that teasing him would be the best way to cover up your sorrow, giggling alongside him because you were so bad at lying. Nonetheless, you hoped he would take this approach, waiting silently on the floor for his best answer.

On the other side he hummed hesitantly, mumbling a few words that you couldn’t quite comprehend because you knew he didn’t want to hear them. You barely noticed you were in the corner holding yourself, rocking back and forth as the anticipation of just hanging up crept up on you.

Before you could start, Yeonjun grumbled in concern.

“Well... okay then. But if you really want to convince me you’re fine then you’ll keep your promise and meet at Moonlight today. We still have a lot to do, so let’s meet up at the usual time. You’ll be there, right?”

“Um... I...”

What else could you say? It would be rude to decline and you weren’t in the mood to lie after all that. Well, he didn’t buy it all but at least he got off the topic. You were thankful to him for not budging, although this had to be one of the worst things he could ever suggest. Not only about how you feel in the end but about the project too. As far as you were concerned, you only a little left so you were able to work separately anyway. He didn’t have to go so far to do things his way, but this would show you he didn’t need you at all.

You spoke on impulse hastily after the long, deafening silence.

“Yeah, okay. S-see you then.”

Abruptly, you hung up before the tears could start again. Not even letting him throw in a sincere goodbye to your predicament.

«──── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────»

Just like what you remembered, Moonlight was still a breathtaking place where the golden sun shone during the day and the moon peeked out from the dim curtains of nighttime. You sighed, staring longingly at the beautiful scenery before you and sat down under one of the trees. It’d been so long since you chose to come here, especially by yourself this time. There were happy memories that came along with this place and you didn’t want to think about the bad ones, of course. However everywhere you looked, it would only remind you of him and that was the least thing you wanted to have at the back of your mind right now.

Checking the time, you made sure you didn’t arrive too early or too late. It was a few minutes after five and true to your word, you actually came. You were surprised at yourself for showing up voluntarily with your mind in such a bad condition, acting as if you were okay just for a stupid project. If you’d done this earlier, you would’ve definitely said no. Perhaps it was the way he was worried about you- although, you thought it was fishy- that you wanted to come. Maybe then you would’ve gotten the attention you wanted after all this time, with this being the final time you’ll see him.

Eventually, you saw the familiar blue haired boy arrive just a quarter after your planned time. He was panting heavily and you swore you almost felt bad for him until the image of him catching eyes with you from earlier rearranged your thought process by miles. You stood up expectantly as he ran over to you, planting his hands on his knees in order to regain breath.

“So sorry for being late, Y/N,” he choked out restlessly, taking your hands into his as an apology. He held them tightly in place, squeezing in an attempt to excuse himself for why he was late. Instantly you gasped at the contact, slowly pulling away so that he wouldn’t realize that you more or less hated his affection. At times when you’d be melting at this, you failed to realize that your suspicions were true and he was playing you behind your back.

A tight lipped smile that screamed passive-aggressiveness became of your lips and you were eager to take a few steps away from him, shuffling to get under the spot you sat earlier. You backed away a little bit but weren’t able to get far because your shoes slipped from something shaped like a square underneath you. The breath was knocked off your lungs as you fell towards the ground and you plunged back, waiting to hit the ground. That is, until someone caught you by the waist.

You opened your eyes after a few seconds of waiting and as soon as you did... you felt all the blood rush up into your face.

“Y-Yeonjun...”

You weren’t expecting anything like this. Nothing sweet like this at all! Said boy was intently gazing at you, holding you by the waist as you were too shocked to say or hell- even do anything with him this close. Your head tilted away to the side this time, trying to think of anything else that would stop the intermittent pace of your heart beats. Gossiping with Soobin about what happened just now, the way you fell at school a few years earlier and embarrassed yourself and how he helped you up out of everyone else right after, the first moment you laid eyes on him and met the blue haired boy just like that... But no, all you could think of was him, him, and only him!

He seemed to be getting a kick out of this, teasing you with an adorable smile that had you awestruck.

“Were you scared...? Don’t worry about it anymore; I’ll always be here to catch you when you fall, I promise.”

It was then that he started to lean in after chuckling at your shyness, bringing your face closer to his as his eyes ran across yours. Your breath quickened just by looking back at him turn towards you- his gorgeous eyelashes that you felt the need to count each, his nose that was sculpted by the angels, his cherry blossom pink lips you so desperately needed- memorizing every valley on his face as you had done earlier when the two of you dated. Oh wait, dated...?

In a moment, you flung yourself off him. What were you doing with him?! Whatever this was and whatever he was doing- it wasn’t right! It just wasn’t right... It wasn’t right when he was choosing to see someone else, and that girl back there no matter how much you couldn’t help but despise her- did not deserve it. It wasn’t right.

Your legs felt like jelly, unable to stand by yourself as you carried out an attempt to get away from him. It didn’t seem so long ago that you couldn’t get enough of him but now you were itching to be left alone. You wanted to deal with this yourself, not reignite the fire of the hopes that he would return back. He lost that chance and you lost the chance of loving him again- even if yes, you still did love him. It was enough for you anyway- the love he gave you before only serving as a unreachable memory. You realized you needed to relinquish him.

Immediately you pushed him off you, watching the sweet expression on his face bend into something broken. The distance between you became even farther and farther with every breath your chest heaved. You gulped.

“I’m fine. Let’s just get to work so we can finish this,” you deadpanned, bringing your books that used to be laying dormant on the green grassland against your chest, moving under the tree where he broke up with you. This way you would be able to remind yourself that it wasn’t meant to be.

Surprised by your ill nature, Yeonjun nodded carefully, deciding to ponder in his head what was making you act this way instead of asking more questions. There was obviously something wrong, but he didn’t want to bother you more. To him he was unable to think of what he had done wrong and certainly hated the tense atmosphere when you refused to touch him, much less look at him. He just went along with it unknowingly like a fool that it was because of him the whole time.

«──── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────»

It was too hard to concentrate.

Your eyes searched despondently over the materials over and over and over again to write down something- anything that could possibly benefit the project, but it didn’t help at all that your mind was still on the boy sitting in front of you. Like a mantra, the memories of him smiling with that flawless girl kept replaying in your head as many more times as you bit by bit became insane with wrenching love.

Again, you couldn’t help but steal another glance at him before quickly ducking back down so he wouldn’t be able to catch you staring. He looked so peaceful while retracing his steps in the books, laying on his hand as a stand for his cheek. You hated how he could act so fine while you were left with nothing but hate towards him. Could you even call it hate anyway? It wasn’t true at all.

Yeonjun’s soothing voice snapped you out from your daze of pity, but it did the least to heal you and your pathetic attitude.

“Hey, do you think we could rest a second? I might fall asleep here if we have to keep reading about this nonsense stuff.”

You didn’t look up from your book, allowing him easy access to rest on your shoulder as silently as he could. His heart leaped with joy in his chest, but there was no chance he’d ever say it out loud. He graciously laid his head down upon it, becoming enamoured with your scent as he reached out to touch your hand. This need of affection easily leveled the desire which screamed out he needed you, but he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get an opportunity to be yours again.

You, on the other hand, was dying to tell him you loved him- but it wasn’t right when he simply had the same love as you for another girl.

But at the same time, you wanted to be strong. You had to be strong in order to convince him you were doing fine without him even if the truth was far from that. You had to put on a mask to hide the pain you were going through just because of him and his stupid, contagious smile that makes you grin every time you see it. You had to be strong, otherwise you’d never fool him that you needed him more than anything or anybody you’ve ever wanted. You had to be strong... but why were all your actions simply betrayed you no matter what you did?

“Get off me.”

Your shoulders started to shake aimlessly, shuddering when you felt his head bury more into the crook of your skin. He must’ve not heard anything, and you clenched your jaw until it twitched with pain.

“I said, get off me!”

As hard as you could, you pushed him off you- enough that you were just inches apart from him. It didn’t compare to the distance between you that you came to note before.

The tears were hot against your cheeks and you collapsed into your shaking hands, unable to hold it in anymore. In all your life, you’ve never felt so humiliated before just because a boy lied to you willingly. You felt pathetic.

To say the least, Yeonjun was taken aback, his eyes wide with shock as he hopelessly reached out his hand to you. All the love you bore just for him crashed into waves upon your chest, and you slapped his fingers away harshly before he could even say something.

Miserably you hid your face from him, not allowing him to see such a mess that he caused by his own hands.

“Who even are you? Are you the Choi Yeonjun who broke up with me or are you someone else?! I don’t understand how you can act like this after everything that happened... tell me, are you just playing with me or something?”

“Y/N, that’s not what I meant to do...” he tried tiredly, scooting closer to no avail as you turned your back away from him.

You laughed at his words, still not being able to look at him straight in the eye.

“Not what you meant to do? You’re telling me that it’s not what you meant to do?! Then who- who was she? Because it seemed to me that you were happier with her than you could’ve ever been with me!”

The silence that broke you apart was too deafening as you caught another look at him.

“Y/N, that’s not true... just listen, please,” Yeonjun begged, gazing at you desperately with unreadable but melancholy expression that had you on edge. He knew that you wouldn’t stay if he physically bound you in his embrace, but he had no clue what to do or what to say. He just wanted- no, needed you to really live.

Your heart broke all the more at the words he tried to pick up in order to explain- which you were sure he could hear even if he seemed very far. Easily you trashed his attempt away, getting up from your spot since you didn’t want to hear anything- anymore lies that would hurt the person you tried so hard to protect and shield away from the inevitable demise of love... that was you.

Yeonjun hurriedly got up along with you, leaving the pile of your books abandoned on the floor as he rushed out to match your pace. He ran with all his might to catch up with you but every time he reached your side- you would push him away like earlier and he didn’t have time to find his breath.

“Yeonjun, leave her alone. Haven’t you done enough, already?”

Seconds later upon hearing another voice, you rushed to someone else’s side, hoping that he would be able to protect you from the danger. It was pitiful with you standing right behind him as if that would help, but it did more than what you could ever be grateful for.

Yeonjun tensed up at his spot, stunned to see Soobin when he could’ve sworn nobody else was at Moonlight. In his mind, he could see the two of you right there apart from everything else- the two friends that looked so good together... it had to be much better than him after what he’d done. He came to a thought, letting his guard down while words of Soobin asking too many questions towards you occupied his head.

“I knew it. I knew you two were dating. I-I should’ve known,” he mumbled under his breath, his morals paralyzing him in place as he dropped his gaze towards at the ground instead.

Somehow Soobin heard this muttering and smugly smirked at this silly situation, taking a fresh opportunity that could probably boost destiny’s way before hiding it with a deep frown. He pulled you flush against his chest, holding you when you surprisingly really needed it from someone else.

“You finally figured this out? Leave us alone; you lost your chance the minute you broke up with her, pal.”

As Soobin dragged you along, you took one last look towards Yeonjun and gasped when you saw along with yours- two longing eyes flowing with tears that were nothing short of love. You wanted to reach out to help him not to cry like that even if he hurt you, but it would never work out and he’d leave you just like he’d done before. This only showed that you weren’t meant to be, never in a million years.

And with that you left with the help of Soobin, leaving Yeonjun alone at Moonlight. Time passed to the point where he gazed upon the stars- wishing that you would come back because he wanted to say he still loved you- by himself.

«──── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────»

It was Thursday, the final day where the two of you would ultimately finish this project. The death of having an obligation which ripped your heart out, for better or for worse. The demise of whatever love you shared. The end of seeing him because you really wanted- no, you needed to. Everything was over in a blink of an eye and you were left feeling bittersweet about the situation... more bitter compared to sweet because you wanted more time with him. You knew deep down inside it wasn’t too much to ask, but... ending this would be for the better. It must be.

You were on your usual pathway home from the library after trying to bribe the librarian to excuse you from losing your books (when you actually accidentally left it there with him) while along the way thinking about what to do to make a grand finish for the project. Since the two of you worked on it a lot for a few hours before you exploded on him- something you weren’t sorry for in the least bit because it got your feelings out- it was safe to say that he wouldn’t bother you about it anymore. He finished his side, you were assuming, so he didn’t have to see you for the time being unless he ever decided to talk it out with you. Other than the fact that you totally hurt him back there, it honestly served you a great victory on a silver platter as you waited for the dragged out day to be over.

It was petty, of course it was! But after what he did back there at the Boulangerie while not to mention, make eye contact with you- sweet revenge had to be one of the best tastes a connoisseur could ever call upon.

And the project? Oh yeah, that’s right. It was a good thing that it was the final day so you wouldn’t have to act civil with him, for better or for worse.

After a few more blocks finally, you made it home, causing you to sigh out in relief. Hurriedly you grabbed your keys from your purse, fumbling with several of them to find the one that fit perfectly. The familiar touch never came though, and you groaned loudly, cursing yourself in your head for forgetting it in the library. It was when you set it down next to the book you were reading before you confronted the librarian- poor old woman- and somehow, you forgot to pick it up the second you got up.

Great, now this.

You opted to stare at the horizon in front of you, letting the breeze freely cool down your body. The sight was nothing less than pretty. It was a windy, golden sunny day outside but you didn’t want anything to do with it. All day you were planning to mope around the house and watch your favorite shows, procrastinating ‘til the last minute until the due date of every assignment arrived. They hit differently whenever you grabbed a bag of chips downstairs to finish them along with the homework, and you giggled at every moment that flashed in your head.

There was nothing else better to do but call Soobin, right? Although you didn’t want to bother him because these months have definitely been annoying for him whether he said it or not.

Defeated, you then stared down into the white porch as if it was at fault, feeling fear rise up your throat. What were you going to do? There was no one else you had given the key to, except...

“Y/N? Can we talk?”

Oh, no. Oh, no... Oh no no no!

When you heard that voice you were instantly glued to that spot, feet affixed on the porch as your heart beat too fast for its own good. Your mind must’ve been hallucinating and playing tricks on you; clearly you weren’t ready to see him yet!

Swiftly you moved your head to the side, eyes widening with appall to see that he was actually right there. Expression nothing less than sorrow, hair messed up and fluffy right in front of his eyes, cherry blossom lips curved into a trembling frown: it was Yeonjun, alright, but yet it was someone you couldn’t recognize due to the complete change of attitude in him. He was tightly holding onto your books but seemingly refusing to hand them over as if that would do anything better and increase the need for conversation. Unlike his stiff posture, his eyes held firm intent though, and you quivered at the determination sewn in them.

“Do you need anything?”

Instead of acting childish like you played out in your head, you simply responded it a curt voice because it was better than saying nothing and benefiting the sworn silence. More than anything you wanted to get out of there and leave the awkward tension, but there was nothing else you could possibly do without embarrassing yourself due to the fact you lost your keys.

“I... I...” This time, he avoided your eyes, words caught in his throat as he couldn’t find the exact thing to say. It wouldn’t make things any better, you realized. It just wasn’t meant to be.

You pursed your lips, locking them into a line. Whatever he had to say- it didn’t matter. Plus, there was another thing. As your eyes were already tearing up, it would be hard to stay for long to listen to his words. There was no telling what you’d say if tears automatically streamed down your cheeks.

“If you don’t have anything to say, then I’ll l-leave. We can just work on the project separa-”

Clack!

Before you could even stay true to your words, Yeonjun took slow steps towards you that had you walking backwards... without you looking.

Soon enough your back hit the door, and you gasped at the close proximity between the two of you now as he leaned in. His hands reached out to cage you in between his arms, tilting his head to the side to study your reaction. The soft blue hair brushed against the top of your head- showing how dangerously close he was. His breath fanned across your lips and his heavenly cologne infiltrated your sense of smell. If he decided to torture you even more, then you’d be able to touch noses from how near he was.

Look, you weren’t sure how to describe it at that moment other than- he was pinning you to the damn wall?! Suddenly you felt all the blood rush in your face, and it was then that you couldn’t make eye contact with him anymore- especially because he’d see how embarrassed you were! He didn’t have to be that close!

“yes, I need something. Or more specifically, you.”

His voice was much more huskier than you remembered it to be, and his eyes fell upon yours, begging for you to look back if not for your anxiety that he was this close. You immediately shut your eyes, heart beating erratically in your chest even if you tried to stop it by focusing on something else. But Yeonjun... how could you not think of anything else but him?! He was nothing short of breathtaking but seeing him this close and personal... it didn’t do good things for your heart!

“M-me?”

It was obvious that the boy was amused even if he felt guilty about the problem, making a quick exhale through his nose to show entertainment. His chuckle that came heartily through his chest caused your ears to heat up with shame since it showed how weak you were- just for him.

“Yes you, you silly baby,” he cooed endearingly, “who else could it be?”

“You’re one to be calling me silly! Don’t pretend like you were the one the other day who asked if frogs have blood!”

In a split second, his face morphed into something nothing less than serious and his left arm dropped to his side. You couldn’t help but wonder at the duality he managed to have when the gravity of the situation hit him.

“I miss things like this. I miss it so much. I miss joking around with you and chasing you around the house just to tickle you. I miss how attached you were because little did you know, I was just as much attached to you as you were to me.

“I miss the sweet look you give me every time I ask you out on a date. I miss having you right beside me whenever we studied together because you were the only person who cheered me on even when it was two in the morning. I miss giving you random kisses out of nowhere because I can’t get enough of you and that adorable, surprised face whenever I did so.

“I miss slipping my hand into yours whenever we would walk home together, letting you cling onto me so that I could protect you from all dangers. I miss giving you victory every argument we had because I hate making you cry. I miss cuddling you on the couch as we watched our favorite shows together whenever we were too lazy to get up and how I couldn’t stop smiling every time you laughed.

“I miss kissing the top of your forehead and you never knew because you were asleep. I miss waking up with you by my side and seeing something so gorgeous it would stay in my head all day even if I studied the same materials over and over again. I miss looking up at the stars with you at Moonlight and resting my head on your lap as you ran your fingers through my hair and how we’d do it every single week.

“Can’t you see? I miss you and every little thing you do, simple or exquisite. I know why you acted that way yesterday and I hate myself so much for not realizing it until later. I owed her something after she told me a way to somehow get closer to you when I’d done such a horrible thing. You can love Soobin- I don’t care about myself anymore as long I get to see my favorite girl smile due to the fact that she’s in love.

“Y/N, you mean much more to me than anything and it’s okay if you’re happy not loving me again because at least I got to experience the full joy and sadness that visited along with the love of my life. This may be the last time you may ever want to see me, but please... let me tell you how much I need you one last time.”

His eyes were shining, full of sincerity that you were able to feel even if you weren’t him. Tears resembling glistening pearls streamed down with his cheeks as he finally told you the truth he’d been dying to tell you, allowing you to see his vulnerabilities inside out. And yet, he was genuinely smiling as he confessed this, happy enough he got the chance to tell you loved you one last time.

Gradually he extended his arms out wide, allowing you to have your personal space while he took a few steps backwards and towards the grass where you followed him. By the end of it all, you weren’t able to help the tears welling up in your eyes at how touched you were from the inside. It was him, the boy who promised to love you until the end of time.

“Y-Yeonjun, I...” he cut in through your words, closing his eyes in fear of the pain that would soon become of his body if you did in the end, choose to grant his wish. It simply wasn’t enough to level the agony of his heart, but he was willing to take all the pain instead of burdening it on you.

“I’ll let you push me. I’ll let you hit me. I’ll let you get back what you deserve. You can slap me, as long as you let everything out. I don’t want you to hurt anymore because of me, so just do it!”

...

Silence.

Oh, the euphoric relief coursing in your veins that really pushed you over the edge.

Immediately you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as you could because you never wanted to let go. You melted into his embrace upon contact, burying your head against his chest that was warm and overflowing with passion. Yeonjun hesitantly embraced you back, unsure of what happened just now.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his dumbfound expression.

“You silly baby,” you teased, repeating his playful words from earlier, “I’m not dating Soobin and I never have. Why would I date him when I’ll never love this way again?”

You booped his nose as quickly as you could, smiling when he finally reciprocated the same grin back.

“Choi Yeonjun, you were such a fool to lose me, but I’m even more of a fool to love you again. I’ve never stopped loving you, although I’m sure you already knew that, hEY-”

With happiness overflowing the boy, he picked you up and you were swept off your feet in a second. Wide smiles reflected back and forth from his face to yours as he spun you around him a few inches from the ground, pure bliss surrounding the two of you since you both were complete again. He let you laugh in his hands, tickling your sides unintentionally while you snickered at him to let you down. He only chuckled at this, stopping in place but still refusing to listen to your request.

“I love your very big brain that’s so smart it makes me frustrated with how dumb I am sometimes,” he brought you down a little bit to kiss your forehead. He then trailed down to your nose.

“I love how you ask me for opinions of perfume when you know deep down instead I adore your natural scent instead,” he kissed your nose and you laughed at the feeling it naturally gave you.

“But most importantly,” Yeonjun placed you down on the golden grasslands again and ceased right in front of your lips, letting his breath fall upon them, “I love you.”

Then he connected your lips together, bringing you closer towards him than he had ever done before.

At last, everything was finally perfect.

«──── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────»

Posted: 3/29/21- 1:37am (yes i did stay up halfway to two am just to get this finished. priorities people- it’s just a sweet early monday here 😔🧍)

Tags:

#txt fluff #txt angst #txt reactions #txt fic #txt ff #txt scenario #txt imagines #txt drabbles #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun angst #yeonjun fic #yeonjun ff #yeonjun scenario #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun drabbles #txt fanfic #yeonjun fanfic #*｡『 keah’s requests !』｡*

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2jaeh · 3 years ago

Text

BISTRO | DOYOUNG DRABBLE

genre: fluff, suggestive, mature

word count: 1,6k

mixologist!Doyoung, girlboss!Reader

author: SIN

warnings: mentions of alcohol, Doyoung being hot that is all.

After many failed attempts of blind dates you decide to head to a new bistro on your own and strike up a conversation with their extremely attractive bartender.

A/N: I watched 127s new video today and I couldn’t get over how good Doyoung looked and him opening that bottle with his pretty hands was just *microwave noises* also there’s never enough DY content so I’m here to provide 🙏🏽

—————————————————————————-

You frequented a little street that was situated just outside your apartment block that hosted some of the best rooftop bars and restaurants. When days dragged on and the company had a busy evening, you treated yourself to a little cocktail and always chose a seat that had the best view of the city.

You hated going alone to bars as a young woman though, despite having the title of being a ceo and a self made entrepreneur. Potential suitors would either be too intimidated to talk to you or when they found out about your title would flex their own achievements to belittle you. Time and time again these blind dates and chat ups became exhausting and so you realized going alone in your work attire meant most power hungry men around these parts would avoid you.

You walked up a set of marble steps leading up to the new rooftop bistro hoping it wasn’t a reservation only type of deal.

“Table for…?” The hostess looked behind you and you quickly shot up a finger, “just one please.” The hostess nodded but instead of leading you to one of the many free tables she politely gestured to the bar seating.

“Im really sorry but single customers are usually seated here but if it’s a problem I can ask my manager-“

“That won’t be a problem, I don’t plan on staying long anyway” you assured her and watched her quickly bow before heading back to her station.

“Won’t be staying long ? But you are yet to experience our services” you heard a soft voice sing and a tall, well proportioned man behind the bar grinned as you took your seat. You were enamored by his charming good looks, he looked so friendly yet so mysterious at the same time.

“I’m all alone so I highly doubt I’ll be in any deep conversation” you smiled shyly at the man placing your coat on the seat next to you.

“Well I certainly don’t mind keeping you company, I’m Doyoung and you are ?” The man held out his hand and you shook it gently, loving the coldness of his touch, “I’m y/n, it’s a pleasure.”

Doyoung’s wide grin returned this time showing a gummy smile that made your heart do a somersault. It’s been a while since you were physically attracted to someone so you had to savor this moment. You watched him serve a customer at the other end of the bar, attentively listening to their order and quickly getting to work on their drink. Doyoung rolled up his sleeves and began mixing up a concoction while keeping up conversation with the elderly businessman so effortlessly. You could understand why the bistro hired him, he was a natural.

“So what can I get you dear ?” Doyoung returned to your corner and rested his hands on the marble countertop. You blushed a little hearing the little pet name but quickly collected yourself and pointed at the menu,

“I’ll have the Lemon drop Martini please” you handed Doyoung the menu and he nodded, “coming right up.”

Doyoung began mixing your drink but the way he looked at you made you a bit self conscious. You watched him squint at your twirling thumbs and eventually chuckle lightly.

“You seem nervous, are you sure you’re not waiting for someone?”

You shook your head, “seriously I’m not but you’re looking at me weird and I was just wondering…why?”

Doyoung’s chuckle made you a little more suspicious but all he did was place your drink in front of you and fold his arms across his chest. “You don’t look like the type of person to be intimidated, especially by a bartender” he raised a brow.

“I just don’t usually drink on my own, I’m still adjusting to it” you shrugged and took a sip of your drink which was surprisingly one of the best cocktails you’ve had in a while. “Oh my God this is so good!” You praised and Doyoung clasped his hands together with gratitude, “thank you my dear and that drink is on me.”

You looked up at him strangely after finishing another sip, “wait why ?” You questioned while Doyoung began cleaning up his workspace.

“Looks like you need it, plus I think you’re gorgeous and this has been the longest most invested conversation I’ll be having today so why not ?” He replied nonchalantly, flinging lemon peels into the recycling.

“We’ve spoken for like five minutes…” you murmured.

“Who said the conversation stops here ?” Doyoung leaned against your corner, a bottle of water in hand and you watched him gulp down the liquid in one go. It may be bare minimum but it was quite possibly the most attractive view you had ever come across. From his veiny hand squeezing the bottle to a few droplets escaping his lips and running down to his jaw line.

Doyoung tossed the plastic aside and cocked his head at your gaping expression before laughing.

“Y/n are you checking me out ?”

You quickly snapped out of your daydream and shook your head, “no! I was just spacing out, not really focused on anything at all” you lied terribly which Doyoung found adorable. Here you are a strong businesswoman who people feared was fumbling over her own words because she was checking him out. It was truly something.

“It’s okay if you are, I’ve been doing the same” he winked cheekily before tending to another customer. You couldn’t believe what was going on but he was clearly on a different level than anyone else you’ve met in the last few months. Hell no one even had you stumbling over your sentences like this since grade school.

Doyoung began fixing another drink but this time he shot you more than one glance. He comically flexed his muscles as he popped open a bottle of wine, biting down on his lip when the cork came out. You giggled at his antics but deep down you felt a flutter of excitement, wondering what he was going do next.

The bar began to empty and Doyoung made sure to keep you sticking around until it was just you, him and the hostess left. “Isn’t your manager going to be mad that you’re allowing a customer to stick around this late ?” You raised your eyebrow and Doyoung smiled, shaking his head.

“Actually-“ he began before the hostess Interrupted him.

“Everything’s all locked and the place is cleaned out sir, I’ll be leaving now” she bowed and waved at you sweetly before throwing on her coat and heading outside.

“Sir ?” You echoed her words and Doyoung removed his apron and leaned down in front of you, “I’m the owner of this bistro my dear” he smiled and you nearly choked on the piece of lemon you were chewing on.

“You’re the bartender and the owner ?” Your eyes widened and Doyoung just grinned, “Is it surprising ? I just wanted to be closer to my customers and continue my passion of mixology.”

“Wow” you awed still not noticing that Doyoung was inching closer to you as the small chat continued. “That’s really admirable, I tend to lock myself away in my office maybe that’s why everyone thinks I’m horrible” you pouted and rested your chin in the palm of your hand.

“You’re not horrible I’m sure, and besides all employees feel some type of way about their boss, I’m sure mine do too” Doyoung shrugged reaching over to lightly stroke your arm.

“You ? No you’re perfect” you halted when you realized what had come out of your mouth and immediately tried to backtrack, “I mean not perfect but like if you were my boss I wouldn’t be complaining.”

That sounded even weirder than the first part.

Doyoung laughed and yet again showed off that adorable gummy smile before leaning in until he was now inches away from your face.

“You have been the best company honestly y/n and I’m sad to see it already come to an end” he sighed and took your hand in his, “I want to ask you two questions, one would be I obviously want to meet you again this time on an actual date. The second would be that I give you something I’ve been wanting to do since you first introduced yourself.”

“Yes”

“Yes to which part?” Doyoung quizzed.

“Both” you shrugged and laced his fingers with yours. Doyoung chuckled lightly and slowly ran a finger down your cheek before leaning in and capturing your lips with his. The kiss was soft and subtle, his lips were so delicious that it made a shiver run down your spine. Doyoung deepened the kiss by holding onto the back of your neck and placed his thumb on your jaw, tilting your head up to better the angle. You were engulfed in his flowery scent, wanting more but also trying to savor the subtly of the kiss. Doyoung surprised you by slipping his tongue in your mouth for a few seconds, smirking into the kiss when you allowed him to do so and finally pulled away.

“Mmm quite addictive” he hummed and licked his lips.

“The kiss….or me ?” You knitted your brows together.

“Yes” Doyoung winked.

#Doyoung drabble #nct drabble #nct 127 Drabble #kim Doyoung fic #kim dongyoung #doyoung au #doyoung fluff #nct 127 scenarios #nct au #nct scenarios #nct blurb #doyoung x reader

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moonlit-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Headcanons for being Tony Stark’s son (Part 2)

Tony Stark x son!reader

warnings:

a/n: had to split it into 2 parts bc i hit the text limit dhshaggags

prompt: continued

part 1

~sokovia was ur first big mission~

“why is y/n here, stark?” -cap

“the first mistake was letting me become a father”

“good god, tony...”

you having the time of your life crushing robots

“WHEEEEEE”

also proving useful by saving avengers a handful of times

“thanks for the assist, stark clone” -clint

rip pietro

rhodey was actually the most worried about you if we’re being honest, he didn’t understand why they let you in this one???

“y/n? y/n, talk to me! are you alive?”

“yes, uncle rhodey! i’m perfect, stop worrying!”

“i love you, kid! be safe!”

✨a good family you’ve got✨

soon the avengers broke up bc your dad cant get along with steve and it was just really awkward

but you chose your dad’s side

“sorry, steve! he pays my allowance!”

peter was actually a little okay, you know!! spazzy at first, but he was cool

“dude, you’re y/n stark! you’re tony stark’s very own son! i’m talking to mr. stark’s only child!”

“yep, that’s me. i’m what earned tony the title of ‘DILF’”

teenage teamup? ofc

“am i doing alright?”

“looking a-okay, pete!”

tony was worried fighting steve would traumatize you so he made you wait at the hotel with happy and peter

“don’t do anything to embarrass me, y/n. i dont want to see you on the news for something stupid”

you and peter ended up hanging out in your room and watching tv and ordering room service

“how do you do that so smoothly? i’d just freak out and go get it myself”

“years of experience as a spoiled rich brat”

absolutely positively being up all night and trying to fight your exhaustion

“you two seem to be getting along well. couldn’t be me” -happy

“for someone named happy, you never seem to be happy”

“not around teenagers, no”

“i remember when you loved me, ‘uncle happy’”

peter texted you every day after that

whenever flash picked on peter for “never meeting tony stark” he’d show a picture of you and him taking selfies in the lab together yes you invite him over much to the dismay of everyone else around you

plus tony was out of town and you were finally trusted enough to be left alone unchecked so like, happy would just leave at the first sign of peter

“that’s not real!”

“jealous?”

you actually showed up for homecoming on a dare (but in disguise)

didn’t wanna attract all the attention, you just wanted a high school experience

but you got called into avengers tower to help move early on :/ bad timing too cuz peter had to fight his first villain and u missed it

“dude, how do you feel?”

“bruh sound effect number two”

“oh my god”

FRIDAY heard him and pulled up the sound and you were WEAK you couldn’t stop laughing

“please....i think i broke a few ribs. cant laugh until tomorrow”

tony offered peter the avengers gig and peter said no, you were very disappointed but u understood that not everyone wanted to be in the spotlight like that

but you and peter obviously still hung out

oh, tony proposed! they interviewed you on sight!

“y/n, how does it feel to know that you’re going to have a stepmom soon?”

“you guys are aware that pepper helped raise me, right? right?!”

moving on, life was smooth for a while, there was some wedding planning, talk of you being a best man (which rhodey fought you on)

“no, i’ve known your dad longer!”

“i’m his son!”

i n v a s i o n

oh boy that was rough

bruce was surprised that you had fucking grown so much in the past 3 years good lord

“y/n...your VOICE”

“puberty, i know. when’s it gonna happen to you?”

“it hurts more when it’s from a teenager”

“uh, did you forget my birthday?”

peter’s back! peter’s back!

finally, man

“spider-kid, i could use an assist!”

“on the way!”

“aliens, why did it have to be aliens?”

up up and away for tony and peter, leaving you on the ground with all the earthly chaos and fear

“you two are the absolute worst, you know that? DAD, PETER, GET BACK DOWN HERE”

“no can do, kid. i—” *cuts off*

“oh great, no service on the space donut, huh? find a damn wifi password and call me back you asshole”

pepper was probably having a heart attack bc the news stations were having a field day but you were one of the only active avengers left, meaning you had to help clean this up

“bruce, we gotta get going”

“what? where?”

“upstate”

patching up the avengers as best as you could to take care of the threat

but you guys always win, this should be a cake walk, right?

wrong.

this was bad, very bad

after a lengthy battle with thanos in wakanda, you had failed. thanos got the stones, he snapped. the world was in ruins. but you didn’t get to see that part

you dusted away

“tell dad i’m sorry and i love him”

tony finally came back to earth hoping to see you, but upon seeing pepper’s face, he knew you were gone

“he did everything he could, tony! he didn’t deserve it!”

she was extremely upset, she saw you like a son of her own

soon, her and tony restarted their life and had a daughter, dad always wondered what it’d be like to have a little girl. it was different, it really was

she was eager to meet you

morgan stole pictures of you to hang up in her room

“when i meet y/n, im gonna give him a big hug! then we’ll have a tea party!”

tony has a picture of you and peter in the kitchen, he misses the two of you, but found comfort in the fact that you may be with each other

an ounce of hope, he had to try something

save his only son, and his other son

when he got to 2012, he was disappointed that he hadn’t let you become an avenger yet because he couldn’t see you here

yada yada he fucked up now he’s in the 70s and he fixed the fuck up and now hes in 2023

and bruce snapped

and you were all brought back and the way you kicked ass was inspiring

tony had to see his son now. right now.

“y/n, dear god! you’re okay! oh, man. i love you so much, kid. i missed you”

“i love you too. and i can’t believe you went to space without me, meanie”

“get over it”

ah, back to old times

peter and you obviously had to team up for this one! come on, what a story to tell!

and then, a snap and the warriors began to fade. you turned around and saw him on his knees

“no...”

you rushed over to where peter already was and tried to hold back tears, to be strong for him

“hey, dad. i’m here. no more missed goodbyes, okay? i’m here.”

you sat beside him and held his hand while the rest of your family made their peace with him and he finally slipped away

“y/n...are you okay?” -peter

“not even a little”

peter was worried about you, but you were worried about peter

mutual worry

meeting morgan was...surprising

pepper forgot to tell you they had a daughter while you were gone

she was so sweet and for the first month you lived at the cabin, she slept in your room

you got NO space

“i love you y/n”

“love you too” *thinking about dad bc she just reminds you of him so much*

“i love you y/n”

“love you too, morgan”

over and over

peter and you had sleepovers a lot, usually at his house bc you were the only one besides ned allowed over bc of all the spider-stuff

ned fanboyed over you

also sleepovers at peter’s were a nice break from being at tony’s cabin where you were constantly reminded that he wasn’t there

“y/n, i’m going to europe for a field trip! it’s gonna be awesome!”

“dude, you’re gonna love it. are you bringing your suit?”

“no, this is my offical vacation. no spider-manning”

“good for you, man!”

peter sent you all the pictures he took on his phone

all of them

Peter-Man: And this one is me and Ned in our crappy hotel room. And here’s the river. And here’s MJ covered in birds, and here’s the airplane, Mr. Harrington fell asleep on me

you had to come to europe once you heard what was going on

happy and you picked up peter and he was a mess

“you gave away dad’s glasses?”

“i think we’re past the point that i am not smart”

“jesus, peter. you should have called me about them. i would have taken them off your hands if you weren’t ready for them”

having to make sure that you guys didn’t get hurt bc this was honestly your guy’s first solo pair-up

there wasnt much backup here

finally, you defeated the evil (who apparently held a very large grudge against you. sorry mister beck) and were able to go back home

“call me if you need anything, pete”

“i will. i promise.”

and the next thing you know...peter’s identity was exposed

“i left him alone for one day!”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedgiant // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @purpleskiesstorm //

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deerixiie · 4 years ago

Text

u n e x p e c t e d g u e s t

ep 12: questions

previous / next (ep 13) / series masterlist

a/n: i was too lazy to edit or have someone beta so if you see a grammar mistake,,, no you don’t.

Kenma watched you.

He watched as you slowly set your phone down with a quiet sigh. He watched as you picked up Ankha gently in your hands and began to stroke her fur. He watched as you looked out into the distance, your eyes unfocused, your mouth curved slightly into a small frown.

Kenma found himself frowning, too. He didn’t like seeing you this worried. A simple appearance in the background of a livestream had turned your life on its axis, and it was taking a toll on your mental health, as well.

What should he do? He was the one you turned too, after all. But he was terrible with words—if saying his order at a restaurant was difficult, how could he even imagine comforting you?

His eyes dropped to the console resting a foot away from him, and he let out a tiny sigh. He wasn’t good with words, but he was good at video games.

Kenma extended the Switch to you with a soft smile. “Do you want to play?”

You played Smash this time, something that you picked up surprisingly easily. Kenma, however, wasn’t paying attention to the game. His eyes kept drifting back to you. You seemed more relaxed now that you were playing, but every so often your smile would drop and your eyes would unfocus.

Kenma frowned again.

Come to think of it, you only knew him for about a week—or maybe less? Why were you coming to him when it was obvious he couldn’t do much to comfort you? Didn’t you have other friends? There was Kuroo, the one who had introduced you two. (Though, now that he thought about it, Kuroo wouldn’t be much help.) Then what about your brother and his friend?

Kenma glanced over to you for what had to be the umpteenth time. He paused, considering his words, and then put down his controls. “Do you have any other friends that live around here?”

You didn’t seem as uncomfortable with the question as Kenma was, even offering a smile smile. “Apart from you, Kuroo, Hajime and Oikawa? No, not really. Why?”

“No reason.”

You shrugged. “Now that I think about it, it’s kind of weird, y’know? As a kid I basically clung to Hajime, meaning I was friends with Oikawa too. I haven’t really been the type for friends, per se?” You frowned. “Does that make sense?”

“No, I understand.” It was like that with him too—apart from you, Kenma’s closest friends were probably only Kuroo and Hinata. Everyone else was a mutual friend or an acquaintance.

“And whenever I need something, I would turn to Oikawa or Hajime. It’s actually weird for me to be coming here now. But,—” your voice became more solemn, “the thought of being in the house with Hajime and Oikawa just felt… suffocating. Being around you calms me down, I guess?” Your eyes widened at that statement, as if you didn’t mean to say it aloud.

Kenma ducked his head, wishing his hair was down so it would hide his blush.

You felt comfortable with him—and Kenma did too. Whereas talking to others gave him anxiety, he found himself easily being able to talk to you. (It was ironic, how easy it was for Kenma to talk to you but still not able to comfort you.)

His mind floated back to the conversation he had with Hinata. Kenma’s eyebrows furrowed. Did Hinata ever ask you about him? He glanced over to his phone, only to remember as he reached for it that you were still sitting there.

“Can you give me a second, Y/n?” Kenma asked, swiftly tucking his phone in his hoodie’s pocket.

You looked up with him with startled eyes. “Uh, sure! Go ahead.”

Kenma ducked into the hallway, pulling out his phone. Sure enough, a text from Hinata glowed on the screen.

Kenma sighed and slipped back into the living room. Your expression was thoughtful, although unfocused. You continued to stroke Ankha’s fur, but more aimlessly this time.

“Y/n?”

You didn’t move an inch.

“Y/n.” Kenma’s voice was louder. He took a few cautious steps toward you, saying your name a third time. You blinked and turned to face him, giving him a startled smile. “Oh, uh, did I drift off there?”

“Yeah.” Kenma sat down and picked up the controls. He paused and turned to you again, his expression full of concern. “Are you... okay?”

“Oh.” You gave a small shrug. “I’m doing better than before.”

“You kept drifting off.”

“Oh! I’m uh, I’m thinking.” You looked away from him, rubbing circles into Ankha’s fur. “I think I want to start all over again.”

“Start…” Did you mean your art blog or something else?

You leaned your head back. “Yeah, like, start my entire life with a clean slate. New blog, new twitter, new hobbies—” e/c eyes flicked to him, only for the briefest of seconds—“new apartment, new roommates.”

Kenma played with the controls, avoiding eye contact with you. “Do what makes you happy.”

“Yeah.” Kenma’s gaze snapped back to you. You had a wistful, almost dreamy expression in your eyes, a soft smile gracing your lips. “What makes me happy.” You looked back at Kenma and the expression dropped, a sheepish smile taking its place. “Ah, whatever, lets just go back to playing!”

Kenma frowned but picked up his controls anyway, sparing you one last glance before focusing on the screen.

Two hours passed rather quickly. You played Smash for another half-hour or so before switching back to Animal Crossing. Conversation was light, comfortable, and Kenma found himself easing back into that odd familiarity he had with you. You seemed to be doing the same, but every so often you’d look over to him as if to ask something and then back out of it, turning back to your Switch. It frustrated him at first—what weren’t you asking him?—but the hypocrisy of the situation humbled him. He couldn’t ask you a simple question either.

(But then again, there was a heavy weight over his question. Six simple words-will you go out with me?—carried much more meaning than six simple words normally did. What if Hinata read the situation wrong, and you only saw him as a friend? What if you said no? What if you exited his life almost as quickly as you came?)

Eventually you set the console down with a heavy sigh and stretched your arms above your head. (Kenma glanced over at the exposed skin before he could stop himself.)

“It’s already two,” you remarked, glancing down at your phone. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Onigiri or inari sushi?” you continued, disregarding his response. “Do you still have some leftover rice from last time?”

“I’m not-” Kenma shook his head, letting his protests die away. “Yeah.”

You gave him a small, smug smile and walked over to the kitchen, humming to yourself. The sounds of cluttering pots and pans that Kenma oftentimes forgot existed followed.

She knows me better than myself, he mused. It’s been barely a week and you were such a strong presence in his life—was it because you watched his streams? Your friendship with Kuroo? You were popping up in the most unexpected places, first behind the counter at the flower shop, now at his front doorstep meekly asking if you could stay for a while. You chose him, even when there were so many others out there.

“You’re getting soft, Kenma.” Kuroo had said that to him last night after you went home, a smirk playing on his face. Kenma had shot the dark-haired boy an annoyed glance and a bitter retort, but he saw the truth in the statement now.

Kenma let out a quiet, defeated sigh. You were doing so much for him and yet he had nothing to offer.

He had to change that.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?” You turned around to him, expectant, and Kenma realized with a sickening churn of his stomach the reality of what he was about to do.

“Is there something on your mind?”

He couldn’t even ask the real question.

Your face falls. “Yeah, there’s a lot.” You glanced away from him, rubbing the back of your neck. “I’ve been meaning to ask you a question, actually.”

Kenma held his breath.

“Can I move in with you?”

The response flew out of Kenma’s mouth before he had time to consider it—something that shocked him, because he always was careful of his words.

“Yeah.”

previous / next (ep 13) / series masterlist

notes:

❍ im so excited for what’s happening next hehe

fun facts:

❍ punchy was napping under a couch so y/n couldn’t pet him :(

taglist (open, send an ask!):

crossed out couldn’t be tagged!

@rhaynedaze @1tsnoya @hnpriscilla @chaelysian @deimmortales99 @pantasticalcat @goosyy @loxbbg @officiallykuute @handsoffmyfriends @flrtykawas @kenmashoe @kingkagss @sempiternal-amour @sol-demure @bbecc-a @ggukiefrappe @ashleydaowo @space-flamingo @finnydraws @bakibakini i @satorispup @erininium @creativedogs @johnnysactualgf @bethbat @prcttylittlcthing @rachelexe @vanilla-beanzz @saccharine-sunflower-seeds @icaruskenma @aikochan4859 @knmsapplepi @h0ngh0ngh0ng @shhhspect @vicassa @crykv @a-applepi @beanst0ck @ephemeralninon @pocket-of-anxiety @kozumesupremacy @air-wreckaaaa @kageyamasbabygorl @kjalidd @lostmarimoismyhubby @oikawasphlatass @punicorn999 @sugawater @yn-tingz @memorableminds @mirikusashes @jiminifiess @semiis @elianetsantana@bwoodybwood @chaseyui (continued in replies!)

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eivorsjawline · 4 years ago

Text

This story takes place in modern times, starring you. By a simple mistake, you venture into a land unknown and a time before your own. Though frightened, a certain tall husky blonde comforts you through the storm raging inside your body. Once you feel more grounded, the bed you seem to be sharing with her becomes more comfortable and you drift off.

Chapter 1: Wolf-Kissed

Readers POV

I remember when i first peered into Norse mythology and the immediate connection i felt with it. Part of me felt like I was lost in time. I couldn’t survive a day the way people once did yet the thought always intrigued me. It intrigued me so much I even had a bracelet engraved with my favorite Norse goddess, “Freyja” made for me. It was made of leather, just covering my wrist and the material the engrave was on made of Jade.

It was all for fun when i thought out the plans to travel here so far away from home. I had seen many things and been to many places, but there was nothing quite like Stonehenge.

Something attracted me to the stones and the closer I stepped to them, a feeling of deep desire surged through my body, as if I just so happened to be in the right place at the right time. Finally, I passed through the stones and looked as they hovered over me.

Suddenly, time stopped. Everything felt different but everything looked the same. The last thing I remember is passing out and the world as i knew it went blank.

The only world i've known, and the world i'm not sure if i'll ever get to see again.

Hardly able to open my eyes, I was greeted by a sudden warmth. Fur linings on an unfamiliar bed, and the subtle crackling sound of a fire pit nearby; a warm light fogging over my cloudy eyes as I slowly began to open them.

“You’re finally awake.” A husky woman’s voice said and my eyes were suddenly wide open.

To my surprise I saw a broad woman with a blonde medium length braid hovering over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed, dressed in a fur shoulder drape with long layers underneath. She looked as if she were ready for war. I could make out a large scar across her left check. Sitting down in a chair next to my bed some distance away, her piercing blue eyes looked at me almost as if concerned.

I sat up quickly in bed, pulling the bedding to my shoulders.

“Where am I? Who are you?” I asked with hesitance, intimidated by the change of scenery and the large woman sitting in front of me.

“I should be asking who you are! I found you just outside of my camp passed out and dressed in strange clothing.”

A sudden rush of color came across my face. I remembered the modern gray shirt and blue jeans I was wearing when I made the transition. Did I really travel back in time? Could this all be just a dream? Then, I realized the clothes I once wore were replaced by a long sleeved tan tunic.

“Then... how am i wearing this?” I said.

The woman chuckled at me.

“When I found you, you were filthy from getting soaked in the rain. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable but, it would feel wrong if i just left you like that.”

Eivors POV:

Who is this woman? She speaks in a strange dialect, nothing like the saxons and must come from a strange land. The only thing that sticks out to me is the engraving on her bracelet. The same engraving Valka prophesied to me before. If she comes from far away, why would she have one of our goddesses names on her bracelet? The bracelet is the main reason I helped her in the first place.

“A far away stranger will come to you with a symbol of love, for you are bound by souls only separated by time.”

I remember when Valka asked me to stop by because she had something important she wanted to talk to me about. I tried to never think about love too much, and to especially never dwell on it. What could have been or what couldn't. I had my fair share of love misfortunes. With a lifestyle like mine, there's no time to focus on things like that. Right?

Poor thing, she looks terrified. There is something about her that's so different from anyone I have ever met. Finding her in such a vulnerable state isn't the only thing that intrigues me about this mysterious girl. It's not everyday you can lay your eyes on someone so attractive. Even her skin shines differently than anyone I have ever laid eyes on.

My mind wanders back to when i was changing her clothes, having to untie and undo odd buttons. The way her skin had formed goosebumps and the hairs on her arms stood up from the cold, having to refrain myself from looking too hard at certain places on her body.

When I brought her in, Randvi didn't understand exactly why I would help a complete stranger. Although she questioned it and very clearly didn't agree with me, at the end of the day it's my decision to make as Jarl. I know Randvi still struggles with her feelings for me and is just cautious with who I bring into the settlement.

“Thank you… thank you for helping me and bringing me in. Im so confused and i'm not too sure where i am.” The strange girl says to me, looking like she wants to cry but is trying to stay strong.

Snapping back to reality, the realization hits me that she truly has no idea where she is or what happened to her.

“What's your name? Where are you from? You must remember something from before.” I pry at her.

Readers POV

“My name is [y/n], I could never forget that. I can't remember where I came from or how I ended up here but maybe, with some time I can figure it out.”

I was lying through my teeth. But, I knew I couldn't just tell her the truth. No one would believe me if I told them. If this was gonna be my home for a while, I needed to at least give the impression that I was sane.

Her eyes kept lingering on my bracelet. Then, I realized where I was and how far back I had gone. Everything was beginning to make sense. I didn't know how to explain it, but i had to come up with something quick.

“I see you keep looking at my bracelet… it was given to me. It's a gift.” I said, shifting my eyes to the other side of the room.

“Fair enough,” the blonde peered at me up and down.

“I think you need more rest. Something will come to you when you wake up. You have some explaining to do, it seems.”

She stood up and blew out a few candles surrounding the bed. Her feet shuffled across the wood floor to the other side of me. Letting out a big yawn, she sat on the bed beside me facing the wall and tossed some of her armor and weaponry on the ground. Finally, she turned around to explain herself.

“There were no extra beds so, I hope temporarily sharing my bed won't be too bad. I can arrange a room for you eventually. This all happened at the very last minute.”

I could tell she wasn't trying to make me uncomfortable. As bad as the situation was, it could have been a lot worse if she had not found me. I could tell she knew that as well.

“I never got your name…” I said wearily.

She stretched her legs out on the bed and turned to face towards me, head resting on her hand and the other pulling the fur covers over herself.

“My name is Eivor, of the Raven Clan.” She said with another yawn.

I watched as she rested her head on the feather pillows, not wasting any time to fall asleep. I listened as her breaths became longer and slower. For such an intimidating woman she looked so peaceful when sleeping.

My mind began to race, why would she help me? Could I ever be accepted here? Knowing I had a sleepless night ahead of me, I turned over and tried to doze off anyway. I had never felt so alone and lost before. A tear escaped my eye and I quickly threw my hand over my mouth to cover any noise, not wanting to disturb Eivor. Just when I thought I could get away with it i heard the covers shuffling beside me.

A hand grazed my shoulder, leading me to turn around and see Eivor looking at me with a worrisome face.

“I know you're scared, but you’ll figure out what happened. Perhaps I can even help you and we can figure it out together. As long as i'm here you won't have to go through this alone. I hope that can bring you some comfort. Go ahead cry it out but please, try to get some rest afterwards,” she told me in a whisper.

Something in her words lifted a weight from my shoulders.

Then, i totally fucking lost it.

Sitting up in bed I cupped my face with my hands letting all my tears flow freely. I felt a warm embrace coming from the side of me. It was Eivor enveloping my sides. Her hands were slightly rough and I could feel all of the scars on the palms of her hands. She grasped gently onto my arms and I could make out a faint scent of vanilla and alcohol. I laid my head on her chest and the warmth coming off her body seemed to calm me down.

It was nice to feel someone there with me, knowing they were real and in the flesh. My tears began to dry after a while of crying. Eivor didn't seem annoyed with me keeping her up, even if she was clearly exhausted.

“I feel better now.” I managed to speak some words once I caught my breath.

“There you go, everythings gonna be okay. Until you can find your way back home… maybe this can be your home for a little while.” Eivor said to me.

“Thank you. I'll try to get some sleep now. I'm sorry for-“ Before I could say another word, Eivor stopped me.

“Don't apologize for that.” She still had a hold on me.

We laid down together and she never let go of me, keeping one hand on the side of me.

“Goodnight, [y/n]”

“Goodnight…” I mumbled back at her.

My eyes began to grow heavy and I started to finally doze off.

#assasins creed #ac valhalla #fan fiction #time travel #female eivor #fem eivor #eivor #eivor x reader #gaming

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czarojay · 4 years ago

Text

LONG POST

Someone please stop me from writing the ghost tubbo idea i had a month ago to procrastinate on the dreamon au

Because like i had this AU and maybe if i write about it here it will stop me??? I can’t actually find the conversation on discord where i talked about it so i’m probably just gonna throw stuff here from memory and change half of it

Feel free to write a fanfic inspired by this, but 1. tag me 2. i’d appreciete if you credited the idea or at least said i inspired you ^^’

Ok so Tubbo died during the Festival. Like I don’t care if in this a Respawn!AU or Permadeath, irl or whatever. Tubbo doesn’t respawn and dies in Tommy’s arms.

Assuming it’s a world with Respawn, Tommy just waits for Tubbo’s body to disintegrate or whatever the bodies in this AU do, as Techno massacrates people in the background, he just repeats to himself something along the lines of “C-come on Tubbo! Respawn already!”, but his friend stays limp in his arms, growing cold.

In the end, they need to flee, like they did during the festival. Feel free to make Wilbur even more insane or evil whatever you prefer and make him leave the body saying either don’t take it, he’s a traitor, just like Eret or just it’s going to be a dead weight (ha, a pun!) (that was so inappropriate to the scene sorry ignore this), so they leave the body and it’s buried in the Manburg just like in the later Tommy’s stream where he zoomed onto the grave with a sign saying that here lies the traitor Tubbo.

But you can also make Tommy carry his dead friend’s body all the way to Pogtopia, anger and grief clashing, still in the denial stage, hoping Tubbo will come back. Like Tubbo dies all the time! He’s just such a clingy, clumsy big man right? He will come back, right?! Tommy rests Tubbo somewhere in the Pogtopia on a makeshift bed hoping it will make the healing faster and as Techno and Wilbur talk ‘downstairs’ he realizes something. Tubbo isn’t coming back. He would be back by now normally.

He’s shook to the core with the realization and shakingly goes down to Techno and Wilbur. The pit happens, but at the end, even after Techno’s speech about the language of violence, maybe Tommy snaps? Maybe Tommy yells how Tubbo isn’t coming back? Maybe the older men, practically brothers to Tommy, realise that Tubbo is nowhere to be seen? Maybe they realise the boy, the spy, the victim of the situation is dead? Maybe Niki stares and gasps in horror in the background and is the one who goes to Tommy first to comfort him and help him with the wounds from both the pit and the whole today? Maybe Wilbur stares in horror at his fists, realising he’s the one who put Tubbo in danger? He wanted Tubbo to do the speech, he made Tubbo run back and forth between the two leaders, maybe if he didn’t pressure Tubbo as much, Schlatt wouldn’t have noticed. Wilbur falls to the ground and sits with his head between the knees for a long time, wondering about what he did wrong.

Technoblade? He’s awkward and we all know it. He may be a god of PvP, the best farmer in Minecraft, but he’s still awkward. Of course he wants to comfort his little brother, but what can he really do? He’s at loss and still hasn’t fully accepted what he’s done. He killed Tubbo, but he had thought he’d respawn/survive(I really went at the beginning and said this can be also for permadeath au and then wrote it all about respawn au but whatcha gonna do huh).

Overall the tension in Pogtopia is high, but to be fair, so is Manburg. People didn’t know about the execution and (you know what im just gonna keep going as if the respawn au was planned) the brush with death, even if they respawned, was never pleasant. It’s even worse when they somehow find out Tubbo didn’t respawn. Some people are happy with the fact, others are in shock and grief.

And here can end chapter 1! Or at least it feels natural for me to cut off somewhere here! Idk really it all depends on your writing style. I'm not gonna dictate how you’re supposed to write idk myself neither.

Assuming Tommy took the body with him, he later goes on to the only place where Tubbo found peace. Where Tubbo went during the war, the only place where he wasn’t bothered, where he was safe and truly free, without a leader or a dictator over him. Tommy went to Tubbo’s jungle base.

He took the body with him, not letting anyone of Pogtopia know where he’s going, not wanting a Wilbur or a Technoblade, especially a Technoblade with him. He felt as though he needed to do this alone. He needed to make sure his friend, at least posthumously, gets the treatment he deserves. So he buried his best friend as he would bury a king.

Tommy spends the night at the jungle base and awakes at night, by a greenish blue light. It’s not too strong, but it’s just enough to be felt. He rubs at his eyes, trying to awake himself, to see if he’s not seeing this, but there it is. A will-o-wisp floating in the middle of the building. Tommy gets up, picks up his sword and carefully maneuvers around the wooden beams with a collapsed floor, he gets to the centre.

He gently cups his fingers and let’s the ember fall on his hands, but as soon as it touches them, there’s a bright flash and Tommy falls to the floor momentarily blinded. When he regains his sight he looks up and sees a ghost floating above him. Its back is turned to him, but he can tell it’s as confused as he is. But wait… He recognizes that shirt. It may be more bright and glowish, but…

“TUBBO” he screams in the dead of the night, the nature suddenly quieting. The spirit turns around with phantom tears in their eyes “,Tommy?” they whisper and that was the moment both of them were sure of each other’s identity.

Tommy rushes, tries to stand up and hug Tubbo, but he simply passes through the boy.

As disheartening as that was, Tommy is still overjoyed to see Tubbo alive. Or at least here, as they soon agree that he is in fact dead. Feel free to put a flashback here, a new paragraph or whatever maybe a new chapter from tubbos perspective.

The last thing Tubbo saw was a grim grin from Techno and a flash of blue and red fireworks. Here is a “how creative can you get” test! You can put somehow afterlife looks like, maybe something comes for Tubbo to go on, but he refuses? Maybe he sees nothing or everything is a blur? Maybe it was the last thing and the first thing he saw was Tommy’s crying face? Here is your free chappy for all the angst it can fit! Have fun go wild, turn on some sad music and let it ALL out!

Tubbo and Tommy talk for long and Tommy tells Tubbo the fallout of his death and Tubbo tells Tommy what happened from his perspective.

But here’s the funny thing, because I don’t know what you think, but… ghosts aren’t actually bound to places! They’re spirits they can go wherever they please! So Tubbo decided to stick around to Tommy. And as they travel and reach Pogtopia, they find out, Wilbur or Techno don’t see Tubbo. From a brief moment, where Tommy was sleeping and Tubbo broke away and went to see Manburg after the festival on his own eyes, he meets Schlatt and as he stops his breathing (he doesn’t need it, he’s dead, he just does it for comfort or out of habit), he’s scared, he think he’s noticed and waits for insults or a surprise or a sorry or a laugh, he feels something phase through him. Schlatt didn’t see him. Schlatt can’t see him.

After a number of tests Tommy and Tubbo settle it. The leader can’t see the spirit.

Niki can see him, it’s settled pretty much the day after Tommy came back, with a shout of fear and surprise and later happiness.

Quackity can see him as it’s settled, when Tommy meets him in the forest and Quackity aside from being scared shitless by a teenager with netherite armour, he sees a disoriented, glitchy ghost behind the teenager, floating creepily, lighting up the forest around them in a sickly cyan light.

Everyone can see Tubbo, but the people who caused his very death.

AND I’M DONE HERE. I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT. I CAN TRY TO THINK OF SOMETHING IF YOU ASK ME, BUT RN AS I’M WRITING THIS DOWN I DON’T KNOW.

Reminder, if you want to write this plz credit the idea <3 Also holy shit this hit 1831 words how.

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mlmdarkfiction · 4 years ago

Note

Gun anon here. First of all, I can't believe you'd call me out like that, how dare you, and second of all, can I request a drabble/fic or smth with Michael Myers and a gun? I know they're not really his M.O. but I love him and I crave it (also: do I need to get specific or anything or can I just say go wild with whatever idea you come up with?)

SOMEHOW THIS ENDED UP THE SAME LENGTH AS LIKE ?? A LOT OF THE COMMISSIONS I DO WHY DID I GO SO HARD AT THIS ONE MICHAEL MYERS FIC. I’m not mad im just...confused @ myself.

anyway I hope you enjoy

Possible CW’s: NSFW, DMAB Reader, Home Invasion, Guns, Gun Kink, Death (not the readers or Michael’s)

Read on AO3:

Read Below:

It’s a rhythmic banging sound that first got your attention, leading you to the kitchen. It’s the back door.

Someone, or something must have left it hanging open, allowing for the slight breeze from outside to send it gently crashing into your cabinets.

You know for a fact you aren’t responsible for the open door.

Try as you might, you can’t even remember the last time you’d even used the back door, but…

You’re not worried.

Perhaps you’re the only person in all of Haddonfield, who could be unbothered at the prospect of an intruder in your home.

And you’re definitely the only person in Haddonfield hoping the intruder is Michael Myers.

Weird Roommate?

Friend?

Lover?

In reality, you have no idea how you should describe your relationship with The Shape.

Michael is truly an enigma, as most would guess.

Everything he does is unpredictable.

He comes and goes as he pleases, almost never locking or closing doors behind himself, you’re used to it at this point.

And at the end of the day, you know that whether you want him to or not, Michael will always come back.

At least, up until now he’s always found his way back into your home.

You hope that the door being left wide open is a sign that Michael’s finally returned home.

The door is shut, and you’re smiling. Honestly this is a big step for Michael, as it appears he’s not left you a trail of blood to clean up.

Perhaps he was finally learning manners?

Or maybe after so long of being away he simply hadn’t wanted you to yell at him for leaving yet another mess.

There’s no rush in trying to find Michael.

As every other time he’s come to visit, you know he’ll find you when the time is right.

It may not be intentional, although you really think it is, Michael always ends up scaring you.

He thinks it’s funny. Even though you can’t see his face, you know he does. He loves seeing the way you jump at his sudden appearances throughout your shared home.

Nothing about your night changes. You carry on the exact same way you would have if you hadn’t discovered the open door.

After making a bowl of popcorn you settle down on your couch to watch the Countdown to Halloween horror movie marathon on your TV.

About twenty-minutes into some B-Slasher film when you hear it. A crash from upstairs.

Suddenly you feel a lot more on edge.

Michael’s not…

Michael isn’t the type to make much noise at all.

You try to reason with yourself, to tell yourself that it’s just Michael, that he must have dropped something…

But you’re unable to convince yourself.

Stupid Horror Movie.

“Michael?” It’s a soft call at first, and yet...It’s loud enough that the noises you’d been hearing from upstairs come to a complete stop.

The sudden silence does nothing for your already frazzled nerves.

All you hear now is the soft sound of your feet against the carpet as you make your way to the bottom of the stairs.

Looking up you see absolutely nothing. No sudden Michael to assuage your fears.

“This isn’t funny, Michael!”

Even using your angry voice gets you nothing in response, and it causes you to quickly come to terms with the fact that if you want to go back to relaxing, then you’re going to have to investigate the cause of the noise yourself.

The irony of this whole situation isn’t lost on you however, a chill runs down your spine as the poor soon-to-be-dead woman on TV calls out ‘Hello?’ into her own, stranger infested, home.

Everything about this seems like it’s a parody, the stairs even creak underneath you as you make your way up.

Suddenly you’re all too aware of the source of the crash.

Not Michael.

Definitely not Michael.

“You’ve made this easy on me,” Your blood goes completely cold as this stranger turns to you, gun pointed directly at you. Anything you could do or say is completely null. The situation, your body...It all feels frozen.

“Show me where you keep the real valuables.”

Slowly your body begins to unfreeze, and you force yourself to nod in response to the armed intruder.

There’s nothing but the pounding of your heart in your ears as you continue to your bedroom.

As soon as you make your way to the doorway the man grabs you roughly from behind, you can’t help the small scream that leaves your panicked lips at the sudden touch. “Where?”

“Under the bed.”

“Go.” He’s shoving the gun into your lower back, inspiring you to follow his commands, as, even through your shirt, you can feel the guns barrel.

You nod, risking a glance back at your captor.

Your breath hitches but...you relax.

Michael.

For real this time, it’s Michael, standing completely unnoticed domineeringly behind the armed man.

Even with his mask on as always, you can feel the intensity radiating off of him. The malevolent energy is so strong, you’re surprised the Intruder seems to be completely unaware it’s no longer the two of you.

“I said get the good shit!”

Finally you’re snapped out of your shock and relief, and you nod your head again. Crouching down you put on the facade of retrieving your safe from below the bed.

Michael doesn’t make you wait.

“What the-”

From your position you can’t tell what exactly Michael did, but the crashing of the gun on the ground is a relief, at least until you realize if it had fallen just right it could have easily gone off.

Still you quickly grab the gun with your shaking hands before rising to meet the scene before you.

This is the first time you’ve actually seen Michael in action.

Of course you know who Michael is, and what he does, but seeing it live….

Seeing it live is totally different.

Michael is holding the man in the air by his neck. You’re entranced watching the man's feet dangle uselessly, before pressing into Michael’s chest.

It doesn’t seem to matter how much he struggles or kicks, Michael doesn’t seem fazed at all.

Though you hate to admit it, there's something undeniably hot about Michael holding a struggling man in the air as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. The sight goes straight to your cock.

You’re so aroused-

You’re so entranced by Michael that you have to force your gaze away when it’s clear the struggling man is close to the end of his life.

His face is red, fingers desperately clawing at Michael’s hands as if it would somehow be enough to free him from the crushing grip.

You shut your eyes tightly.

In this moment you’re dangerously aware of everything going on in the room with you; the pounding of your frantic heart isn’t loud enough to block out the last struggles, and gasps of the man, nor do you miss the way it all suddenly stops.

This silence is immediately followed by a thump, the thump of Michael dropping the now dead man onto your bedroom floor.

Michael is…

You don’t know what he’s doing.

You tell yourself you’re not afraid of him, and yet...you find yourself unable to open your eyes.

The gun has grown warm in your now very nervous, sweaty hands.

With blood rushing in your ears you become hyper aware of your partly adrenaline, but mostly Michael caused boner, and the way that it’s straining painfully against the fabric of your pants.

A large hand, one that’s much larger than your own, develops your hand, the one holding the gun.

Slowly you open your eyes to find yourself face to face, or more accurately, face to chest, with Michael.

You watch Michael as he takes the gun from your grasp.

With his mask still on it’s nearly impossible to tell where Michael is looking, but it really seems like he’s staring at both the gun now in his hands, and at you as you watch him.

“Michael?” His name leaves your lips tentatively. You’re surprised by yourself, surprised by the fact there’s no waiver or tremble of fear noticeable in your voice.

His head tilts in a familiar response at your gentle call of his name, and now you’re sure you’ve gotten the man's full attention.

Briefly your eyes drop from Michael’s masked face to the dead body at your feet, before returning to the other man's covered face.

“Thank you…” After all, if Michael hadn’t intervened, it most likely would have been you dead on the floor.

There’s a hesitation, and then silence envelops you both once again.

Surprisingly, it’s Michael who ends the tension. A simple step forward is all it takes, before he’s pulling you close against his chest into a crushing embrace.

It’s odd.

You welcome the unusual affection, but it’s still odd.

Michael isn’t usually so...soft.

‘Maybe,’ you think, ‘He’d actually been worried.’

The hug is nice, but tight. You’re sure that’s because he’s unused to initiating such subtle affections.

You notice two things while in the hug though;

Michael is also hard, his cock straining the jumpsuit to press against your own while you embrace, and that Michael still has the gun.

It’s not pointed at you, of course, but you can feel it in his hand as he holds you.

Michael doesn’t break the hug.

As soon as you’d felt his erection you knew he likely wouldn’t.

The two of you, you’d done things like this before.

He is, to put it lightly, inexperienced, but he’s always been curious and eager.

Body kept flush against his own, you’re unable to do anything as he grinds his hips into your own as he desperately searches for friction.

A soft moan leaves your lips, and you have to keep from shuddering when you hear Michael give a deep inhale from within his latex mask.

The Shape doesn’t moan. In your experience, he never has, but you’ve learned how to tell Michael is enjoying himself.

You’ve learned to listen out for every deep breath, shuddering exhale, and low growl.

“Here,”

You take a step back, not missing the almost needy way that Michael tries to grip your shoulders in an attempt to keep you close.

“Let me help.”

Only you.

You’re the only person who could strip Michael Myers, and live to tell the tale.

His jumpsuit is easily removed, and no surprise to you, he’s completely bare underneath.

You leave the mask.

In all the time you’ve seen Michael, he’s only been maskless a handful of times, and every time it had been his own choice to remove it.

It’s a boundary.

A symbol of trust.

And no matter your relationship with the other man, you’re not about to overstep it.

Michael’s now completely naked aside from the mask, and his cock is standing at full attention.

It’s a full 7 ½ inches.

You watch as it bobs gently in anticipation as Michael gently adjusts his weight as he becomes used to the cool night air of your bedroom.

Like usual, this level of intimacy with Michael is prefaced by curiosity and need for relief.

It’s Michael’s pleasure that matters. It’s always been like that.

Despite the likeness of your bodies, you’re not sure Michael could pleasure you back, if he even knew how.

He pulls you in again, and you’re quick to fall into routine, dropping to your knees in front of the larger man.

There’s no waiting, no moment to catch your breath, Michael is straight to the point.

His scent quickly fills your senses as he lays his cock against your face.

He humps against it, rubbing the sweaty organ against your cheeks and nose, at one point you stop him as he’s getting dangerously close to thrusting into your eye.

You’re allowed a single deep breath before you take the head of his large cock into your mouth.

Not only is his musk overwhelming, but so is his taste.

Salt.

Sweat.

Skin.

Without thinking you moan wantonly around him, tongue wrapping around the head, licking his slit and the precum that had already started gathering there.

It’s only Michael who could get you to act in such a way.

To get you to act like an eager cock sucking whore, even knowing you’ll get nothing in return.

You’ve trained yourself to take his monster cock.

Or…

You’ve at least trained yourself to take most of it.

A gag still manages to leave your throat when your partner decides he’s had enough and wants more .

All it took was a single hard thrust for him to sheathe is aching member in your willing throat.

One day you think he may accidentally kill you with his cock.

Perhaps he’ll thrust too hard and accidentally puncture your esophagus.

Maybe he’ll just hold you far too tightly, far too close, as your mouth is filled, nose in the curls of his pubes unable to breath as he finishes.

The thought of dying by his cock...it makes your own twitch from it’s confines.

You’re so focused on your goal of taking the full 7 ½ inches in your mouth, that you don’t notice Michael shifting above you.

No, you’re left with no warning of what’s to come.

Metal presses softly to your cheeks, and instantly you freeze.

You begin taking short, panicked breaths of air through your nose, cock still clogging your airway, as you look up to Michael.

He’s just staring, no expression visible through the damned mask, and no real reaction to your stopping or to your very clear fear.

Instead of stopping, or showing any sort of intent, Michael just begins to gently trail the gun lower.

The steel traces down your jaw, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, and eventually rests right under your chin.

You relax, if only slightly, knowing Michael won’t shoot with his dick in your mouth.

He’s been shot enough times now to know it hurts, and would likely know better than to shoot his own dick off.

However, this relief is short lived.

Once again Michael begins to move the gun away from your chin, down, and further down again, until at last it’s being pressed against the obvious tent in your pants.

There’s no way to keep in a moan at the feeling of something, anything, even a gun, touching your poor aching dick.

Any thoughts you had about what exactly Michael’s planning to do quickly leave your head as Michael gives a quick and sudden thrust.

It has you choking again.

Tears, snot, and drool leave you at the sudden extra strain.

You work faster on Michael’s cock, bobbing your head just right, moaning for the extra stimulation, all while the other man continues to prod your own member with a fucking gun.

You try to avoid thinking about the fear, and the arousal , this new addition to your routine is causing.

No, instead of thinking about that, and what it means about you as a person, you decide instead to focus on Michael.

All you’re thinking about is him, his cock, and how to make him cum.

It isn’t long until your efforts are rewarded, after all, despite his above average endowment, he’s never lasted very long.

Still,he seems to lose his load much faster than he usually does.

In an almost mockery of your earlier fantasy, your nose is forced into Michael’s unkempt pelvis, as your mouth, throat, and stomach are filled with his bitter cum.

The longer you go without air, hardly able to breathe even through your nose like this, the more you fear every part of your earlier fantasy is going to be fulfilled.

But…

Michael has mercy.

Once he’s finally beginning to soften up, he pulls himself entirely from your mouth.

For the moment you’ve forgotten the gun, now much more focused on your aching jaw, and swollen red lips.

Michael reminds you quickly though.

In your kneeling position, Michael has no trouble pushing you onto your back, especially now that you’re exhausted, unable to fight him.

All you can do against him is look up with confusion.

“Michael, what-”

You weren’t really expecting a response.

Of course the response you get isn’t verbal, no, Michael responds to your inquiries in a physical manner.

All you can do is moan in mixed pain and pleasure as he once again presses the gun against your erection, however this time...he’s much rougher than he’d been before.

It feels almost as if he’s trying to crush your cock.

Still it seems that for the first time your relationship with The Shape had become sexual, that he decided you were finally allowed to cum too.

He keeps you like that-

Splayed out on the floor in front of him, legs spread, all while you moan and write for him as he roughly outlines your cock with the tip of the gun.

He doesn’t stop.

Not until you cum.

And when it finally happens, when you finally cum, you’re filled with a mix of relief and humiliation.

Relief that Michael had finally moved the gun away, not just from your genitals, but from you entirely.

Humiliation at the fact you’d cum without a real human touch.

Humiliation at just how hard you’d cum due to going without for so long...and the mess you’d eventually have to clean out of your underwear.

Although you can’t see his face, you can feel the smug aura radiating off of Michael.

He’s clearly proud of what he’s done today, and you have a feeling he’s not going to let you forget this exact encounter any time soon.

312 notes · View notes

freddiesaysalright · 5 years ago

Text

Just Like a Woman - Part 10

A Roger Taylor x Reader Story

Summary: You and Roger were once in love when you were young. Only, he went on to be a rock star, and you went on to be a lawyer. Now, quite against your will, you’re representing him in his divorce.

Word Count: 4.3k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @26-7-49, @drowsebaby, @moon-stars-soul, @im-an-adult-ish, @ixchel-9275, @jennyggggrrr, @zyanmaik, @mypassionfortrash, @a19103, @madeinheavxn, @beepbeephardy, @rrogerchxrm, @qweenly, @blisshemmings, @seasidecrowbar, @internationalkpoplova, @ellystone, @takemetoneverland420, @coffeexcigarette, @lookuptotheskiesandsee, @thatpunkmaximoff, @angelkissys, @rocknroll-stolemyass, @simonedk, @anotheronewritesthedust1, @peterquillzblog, @mrfahrenhcit, @joseph-mozzerella, @theprettyandthereckless, @flick-ofthe-wrist, @johndeaconshands, @rogerandhiscar, @queenmaracasandlove, @sunflower-ben, @cubetriangle, @amy-brooklyn99, @scorpiogemini, @kiainspace, @itsabenthing, @bookandband, @makemeyourwife-loveofmylife, @grazessa, @borhapqueen92, @theonsasheart, @vektorivittu, @chanti-frn, @brianssixpence, @dancingcoolcat, @xviiarez, @irepookie, @lnnuend0, @rogerxmeddows If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Okay so I didn’t proofread the smutty part of this I’m sorry but I get lazy, y’know? I hope you still enjoy. Just ignore any typos lol

Warning(s): Smut in this chapter! It’s romantic and stuff ;)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Part 10 here we go!!!

Your jaw dropped as you watched Roger walk up to the stand and take his oath. When had he agreed to testify? And for the defense? Was he really so desperate to have his say that he would undermine the whole case? You shot daggers at him with your eyes.

“Mr. Taylor,” Glen began. “Can you tell us a bit about what your father was like?”

“Objection!” you interjected. “Relevance.”

Judge Walsh gave Glen an annoyed look.

“You’ll see what I’m getting at, your honor,” he said.

“Speed it up,” Judge Walsh instructed. “Or I will hold that objection sustained.”

Glen looked back at Roger.

“Mr. Taylor, your father was an abusive man, was he not?” Glen asked.

“Yeah, but I don’t see what that has to do with Dominique’s case,” Roger returned, frowning.

“I think it could have everything to do with her case,” Glen retorted. “You and your ex-wife, did you ever fight?”

“Sure we did,” Roger said. “Like any other couple, we had our moments.”

“Ever get physical?” Glen asked.

“What?!” Roger cried.

At the same time you stood up and repeated, “Objection! Move to strike!”

“Overruled,” Judge Walsh said emphatically. “Counsel, you can’t object to questions only because you don’t like them!”

“Your honor, I want it on record that I object to this witness, I object to this line of questioning, and I object to opposing counsel’s being a complete and unmitigated ass!”

“Counsel!” he scolded, banging his gavel. “Sit down and let Mr. Harrington finish! If you raise one more objection today I will hold you in contempt, do you understand me?”

Cheeks red with anger and hatred, you scowled at him. Bill forced you back to your seat. You folded your arms across your chest and once again glared at Roger, hoping he could feel the heat of your rage.

“To answer your question,” Roger began again. “No, any disagreements between Dominique and myself have always been resolved with words.”

“Until you had to bring lawyers in,” Glen remarked.

“That’s not fair,” Roger said. “When it comes to issues of money -”

“And the cheating?” Glen pointed out.

“I cheated,” Roger admitted. “Dominique was faithful until that day she went on this date. But at that point, our marriage was effectively over.”

“You didn’t like that, did you?” Glen asked. “The fact that she had a date?”

“Who would?” Roger replied. “It was a pretty harsh reminder that my marriage was done.”

“Did it make you angry?” Glen pressed.

“Yeah, a bit,” Roger said, rolling his eyes.

You squeezed yours shut. If the jury didn’t think Roger was taking this seriously, it would look bad. You saw where this was going, and you knew it would only make him angrier.

“Angry enough to behave like the late Mr. Taylor?” Glen asked.

Roger stiffened. His jaw clenched. You could hardly look at him. You saw the hurt and fury slowly overtake his body. But he was remaining impressively calm. He took a deep breath and then looked icily at Glen.

“No,” he said.

You could tell how much will power it was taking for him not to spit at Glen in that moment. You felt the same. Angry as you were with Roger for doing this, you hated Glen right now more than his client. He turned and looked at you, a slimy smile on his face.

“Your witness,” he said.

Bill looked at you questioningly. You composed yourself and nodded, letting him know you had this. You stood up.

“Mr. Taylor, have you ever once put your hands on your wife or any woman?”

“Never,” he said.

“No further questions.”

You sat back down.

After Roger’s testimony, you were released for lunch. The trial would continue the following day. You and Bill stormed out of the courtroom, each on one side of Dominique. You didn’t bother to wait for Roger, but he jogged up to you anyway. You retreated into a chamber down the corridor.

“I can’t believe you!” you shouted at Roger as you slammed the door behind the group. “I told you yesterday that you aren’t a relevant witness! Why would you agree to testify for the opposing side?!”

“I wanted an opportunity to stand up for Dom, I didn’t know he was going to ask me all that!” Roger shot back.

“Do you realize what you’ve done?!” you cried. “All the jury needs is a little bit of doubt to find him not guilty, and you’ve just given it to them!”

“Oh, please, my alibi is totally secure,” he returned.

“We wouldn’t have to even worry about it if you didn’t get your dumbass on that stand in the first place!” you almost shrieked, completely exasperated. “You’ve hurt us, Roger, you could at least be sorry for it!”

“You’re the one who wouldn’t let me testify on our side!” he yelled.

“Because I was doing my job, you daft -”

“HEEEEEEY!” Bill bellowed, banging his fist on the table.

You and Roger looked at him.

“Everybody calm the fuck down,” Bill said. “This was a setback, but we still have a strong case. What Glen did in there was a desperate, Hail Mary attempt to throw us off. We still have Dominique’s amazing testimony, Miss Thomas’s, and all the forensics. So both of you just relax, alright?”

You shot another harsh glare toward Roger and then took a seat. The shock of Roger’s testimony left you winded, but you were also terrified. If the jury now had a doubt that Nick was the culprit behind the attack on Dominique, you knew Roger would never forgive himself.

Just then, Glen burst into the room.

“What the fuck was with that witness?” he demanded. “Calling me ugly? Are you just trying to make me look stupid?”

“Hey, don’t you come in here making demands like that after what you did!” you retorted, jumping to your feet again. “You called Roger up just to try and frame him when you know that was rubbish!”

“God, you’re sexy when you’re angry,” he replied, tone softening. “Sure I can’t convince you to ditch blondie and grab a drink with me?”

“Alright!” Roger intervened, stepping closer.

“We are in the middle of a trial,” you said to Glen. “Could you act like a grown up?”

“Believe me, after seeing your legs in that skirt, my thoughts are entirely adult,” he said. “I actually started to get jealous of blondie since he gets to put his face between those gorgeous thighs every night.”

You opened your mouth to tell him that he’d gone too far, but Roger lunged past you, going for Glen. You and Bill each grabbed one of Roger’s arms, yanking him back.

“Roger!” you cried, incredulous.

“He crossed a line!” Roger bellowed. He glared fiercely at Glen. “Don’t you EVER talk about her like that!”

“HEY!” Bill interjected again. “Roger, settle down. Glen, get the fuck out.”

“I still want to know about that witness,” Glen said.

“She was the one who found Dominique, how could we not call her to the stand?” Bill argued. “Lucy Thomas is just a cold bitch by nature, we can’t help that.”

Roger was still glowering, breath heavy and chest heaving.

“Alright, I’ll go,” Glen. “But I’m not going to take any more of that nonsense.”

“Oh, but you expect us to tolerate yours?” you retorted.

“Y/N, that’s enough, we’re not doing this,” Bill said.

“Bloody ridiculous,” Glen muttered as he swept out of the room.

The door swung shut behind him. You rounded on Roger.

“What’s got into you?” you cried. “Are you trying to make this worse?”

“I was defending you!” he argued.

“OH MY GOD BOTH OF YOU SHUT IT!” Bill interrupted once again.

All eyes were on him.

“Emotions are running high right now,” he continued. “I’m going to get some lunch. Y/N, you’ve got the rest of the day off. Roger, do whatever the hell you want.”

You blinked. “You’re sending me home?”

“Yes,” he said. “You’re riled up and snappish and frankly, I don’t want to talk to you for the rest of the day.”

You flared up, offended, but he stopped you from speaking with a look. Then he turned to Dominique.

“Dom, can I get you some lunch?” he offered.

“Throw in a drink, and I’m there,” she said.

She took his arm and they left together. The door snapped closed once again and you looked at Roger.

“I appreciate you defending me, but after the argument he made in there, you can’t act like that, Rog,” you said, as calmly as you could. Inside, your emotions were swirling around like a hurricane.

“What I did was human,” Roger replied, voice also steadying. “All I want to do is defend the people I love.”

“Well, don’t,” you said sharply.

“Fine,” he snapped. “I won’t, then.”

From the look on his face, you knew you’d struck a nerve. Roger had never looked at you with so much disappointment and anger in his eyes. Not even during your worst fights. This was a new level. It made your heart sink. But when he went for the door, you didn’t try to stop him. You watched him go, feeling like a bad lawyer and an even worse girlfriend.

You walked home from the courthouse. All your frustration was gone by the time you opened the door. You half hoped that Roger would be there and you could both apologize and make up. But he wasn’t. Your flat was as empty as you felt. With a heavy sigh, you set down your work things and went to go change. Only, when you got to your bedroom, you had no energy to do so. You kicked off your shoes, flopped face down on your bed, and let out a sob. You cried yourself into a deep sleep.

You woke a couple hours later to a knock on your door. Brushing your fingers through your surely mussed up hair, you forced yourself from the bed and went to answer it. You knew who you hoped it was, but you couldn’t be sure Roger would be standing there. You left things so tense.

To your shock and pleasure, it was him. He looked rather like a dog with his tail between his legs as you opened the door. You felt the same. You had behaved no better, in your opinion.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly.

“Hey,” you returned.

A beat passed.

“I’m so sorry,” you said in unison, and you both chuckled a little bit.

“Come inside,” you offered. “We should talk.”

“Definitely,” he agreed.

He came in and you went to the kitchen. You made some tea and handed it him a cup before sitting down across from him.

“I’m sorry I testified for them,” he said. “Glen called me and asked me if I’d be willing to tell my side of the story. I had no idea he would go that direction.”

“You can’t trust opposing counsel,” you said. “Especially the likes of him.”

“Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson,” he conceded. “The last thing I want to do is hurt Dominique’s case, I just…”

“I know you want to protect people, Rog,” you said, reaching over to take his hand. “That’s your natural instinct. And I admire that about you. Few people are as selfless as you are. But you can’t always be the one in the ring, okay?”

“I know,” he said. “And again, I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” you returned. “And I’m sorry too. I just got scared because Dom means a lot to me too and I don’t want her to go through all this only to lose.”

“I get it, I feel the same way,” he said. “I think we both forgot ourselves today because we care so much.”

“I told you having me might backfire,” you joked.

He smiled. Another pause passed between you.

“About Glen,” he said. “I’m also sorry I exploded like that. But I won’t apologize for defending you, he -”

“No, I agree he crossed a line today,” you cut across him. “That was way too far. Especially since we haven’t….y’know…”

“I know,” he said. “And when he said that today...just talking about you like that - even him thinking of touching you - it made me absolutely mad with rage. Because that connection we had...even back in the day...it was practically sacred to me, Y/N. To hear him say that, and make a mockery of it….I just couldn’t take it.”

You looked down to hide your blush. The sex was that meaningful to you as well, but you never thought he was so sentimental about it.

“D’you remember when we used to?” he asked. “How you’d look me in the eyes?”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. The memory made heat stir in the pit of your belly.

“Yeah,” you said, finding the courage at last to look at him. “Of course I do.”

“No one else has ever looked in my eyes, y’know, during,” he said. “I felt like I could….I dunno, see your soul or something. I’ve had sex with plenty of women. But I’ve only really made love to one.”

You were certain your cheeks were redder than cherries at this point.

“Roger, I….” you trailed off. “I don’t know what to say. I had no idea it all meant so much to you. Especially with the way you left.”

He hung his head. “I know. But I hope you believe me.”

“I do,” you assured him. “I just wonder what made you think of all that?”

“Glen’s comments today were a part of it,” he said. “But also, a few weeks ago, you said we couldn’t because my divorce wasn’t final. But, it’s final now, and I’ve been thinking about being with you ever since I signed that paper.”

Your blush impossibly deepened.

“Plus, seeing you in that courtroom is incredibly sexy,” he added with a laugh.

You laughed too, relaxing you a bit.

“I’ve been thinking about it too,” you admitted. “I’m just nervous.”

“Why?” he wondered. “By my memory, we were very good.”

You smiled. “I think I’m just afraid that if we try, then what we had before might not be there. And then what?”

“Y/N, it’s gonna be there,” he said, squeezing your hand. “I love you and you love me. That passion is there. Which is especially clear after today.” He took a deep breath. “But if you’re not ready, we can wait.”

You didn’t reply right away. Honestly, seeing him leap to your defense the way he did had turned you on, though you didn’t want to admit it. And every time he kissed you, you remembered how good it felt to go further with him. But your fear was real. What if it wasn’t the same as it used to be? There was only one way to find out.

“Roger?”

“Yes, love?”

“Kiss me.”

He almost jumped out of his chair to come around the table to take you up in his arms. He lifted you to your feet and claimed your lips in a tender embrace. He moved slowly, giving you the opportunity to stop him if you wanted. But you wanted the opposite.

You opened your mouth against his, and he reacted immediately, slipping his tongue between your lips. The kiss was heavy with the pent up desire you had both been feeling. Your mind was fuzzy, like getting drunk, but you were acutely aware of his hands sliding up your sides. His thumbs brushed your ribcage, just barely touching the underside of your breasts.

You whimpered into his mouth and reached for the buttons of your blazer. He helped you shrug it off your shoulders and it fell to the floor. Beneath, you had just your plain white tank top and pencil skirt. He stopped kissing you to look over your body in the form fitting clothes. You saw the hungry look in his eyes and bit your lip.

Your lips already itched to feel his again. All of your skin was tingling with the desire for his touch. You watched him observe you, chest rising and falling with your deep, desperate breaths.

When he met your gaze again, you couldn’t contain it anymore. You crashed upon him. Pressing into him to be as close as possible. His arms snaked around your waist to hold you there, his eagerness to be close as evident as yours. Then his hands made their way south and he gripped handfuls of your ass.

You gasped and let out a husky breath, pushing even further into him. He groaned and you felt his hardness pressing into your lower stomach. You stopped kissing him to catch your breath and reach for the buttons of his shirt.

“Fuck that,” he panted, and he pulled it over his head while you giggled.

When his shirt had joined your jacket, you had your turn to admire him. You ran your fingers delicately down his torso. His skin was warm.

“I guess we should be matching,” you teased, and you tugged your tank top off as well.

Roger’s eyes on you as you reached back and unclasped your bra had you reeling. That was what you missed about making love to him. No one else had ever desired you so passionately.

With your breasts free, he took direct action. He cupped one in each hand and squeezed gently, massaging them before tweaking each nipple between his fingers. Your head fell back with a groan as the sensation sent more heat straight to your core. He attached his lips to your neck, whispering into your skin.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, love. God, I’ve missed you.”

You whined in returned, arching your back toward him. He pulled you close again. The heat of his body sent a chill up your spine.

“Wanna move to the bedroom, love?” he asked.

You nodded. He scooped you up and carried you in there as you giggled. You yelped with surprise when he tossed you on the bed and crawled up to join you. The next kisses were fervent and needy. You moaned again.

Roger’s fingers moved down your front and nimbly popped the buttons of your skirt before tugging the zipper down. You did not wear panty hose. You liked the way your legs looked without them, and you knew you could distract an opposing male lawyer if need be. You played dirty too sometimes.

You pushed your thong down your legs as Roger worked off his jeans. He groaned at the sight of you bare before him, sprawled out and breathless from his kisses. You smirked at him with cat like playfulness as you sat up. You gently pulled the waistband of his boxers down, slowly, watching his face as you went. Beads of sweat formed at his hairline from your torturous pace.

“Fuck, baby, I need you,” he sighed.

With a grin, you swiftly removed his boxers, and he kicked them off the bed. Then, you took hold of his hips, rubbing soft little circles into the slightly protruding bones. He hissed with anticipation.

Then, you gave him what he wanted. You licked a stripe up his cock. A loud groan came from his throat. You swirled your tongue around his tip before wrapping your lips around him and taking him down. He let out such a delicious moan your mouth watered around him.

You began with a slow pace. Dragging your mouth forward and back, teasing him. His short, eager breaths egged you on. You saw him trembling trying to maintain control, but after you hollowed out your cheeks and really sucked, his hips jerked forward. You almost gagged, but held back.

“Sorry,” he choked out. “God, it feels so good.”

He buried his fingers in your hair and pulled you off of him. That was typical. Roger preferred not to cum in your mouth, and he refused to finish before you had gotten one or two orgasms of your own. Usually more.

You licked your lips and looked expectantly at him. He took your shoulders and lay you back. Your legs fell open for him. He got onto his knees there, but didn’t settle on top of you. Instead, he kissed you again. He teased your lips with his tongue, and you opened up. He explored your mouth, getting you all hot again, before pulling away.

He nipped and sucked along your jawbone and down the soft skin of your neck. He trailed across your collarbones, down your chest - briefly stopping to suck on each of your nipples - and then made his way down your stomach. He slowed down the closer he got to your pelvis. Roger was not an explorer trekking out into new territory. He was coming home. He recalled every sensitive spot on your body. What made you moan, sigh, and giggle. He exploited this knowledge to the full extent as he made his way down. It made your whole body light up with excitement and need. Finally, you whined impatiently and pushed your hips up.

With a cocky chuckle, he took his tongue to your folds. You gasped sharply as your back arched. He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked lightly, just how you liked it.

“Oh! Roger!” you cried, heels digging into the mattress.

He moaned into you, the vibrations sending an extra thrill all the way up your body. You’d almost forgotten how extraordinarily well he used his tongue and mouth. He was zeroed in on your clit, making you writhe around as you released pathetic whimpers and soft cries of his name.

The pressure was building inside you as he worked your core with his mouth. Your voice raised several octaves and your legs quivered as you hurtled toward the sweet release. When you were on the cusp, he sank a finger into you. You groaned so deeply you felt him smile against you. He curled his finger toward himself, pushing on your g-spot with expert precision.

“Rog - oh fuck!” you nearly sobbed.

He added a second finger, stretching you just slightly. Your walls clamped down around him as he drove you further toward the edge.

“Please, please,” you begged, panting.

He sped up, knowing just what you needed. Between the flicks of his tongue and the thrusts of his fingers, you were there. Your legs stiffened, your back arched high off the bed, a scream tore from your throat as it hit you. The wave of pleasure crashed over you, and Roger did not relent as you began to come down, shaking with the sensation of it all.

He eased you down, slowing his pace before removing the contact. Your body quivered. He smiled, pleased with himself, and he crawled back over you again to help with the shivering. Hot as you were during, you were always cold after an orgasm, so he held you a moment.

You were panting too hard for him to kiss you properly, so he peppered your face and neck with pecks. When you giggled, he knew you were okay.

His hips settled between your thighs, and you gasped as his cock brushed your entrance. Then you moaned.

“Ready for more, sweetheart?” he asked, running his finger along your jaw.

You nodded. “Please, more.”

You didn’t even worry about sounding pathetic. You could be anything with Roger - strong, weak, pathetic, needy, vulnerable, bitchy, sweet, sexy - all of it. Any side of yourself was accepted and loved by him.

He rested on his forearms, cupping your face between his hands, and he slid into you. It was like magic. He fit so perfectly inside you - with just enough stretch to make you whimper with need. You both took a moment to revel in being together again. Being completely united.

You locked eyes. You understood what he meant earlier. Your souls met behind your irises. You had never felt more connected to him. And from the soft look in his eyes, you knew he felt the same.

“I love you so much,” he sighed.

“I love you too,” you returned.

You turned your face and took his finger into your mouth, a weakness of his. His eyes fell closed and his hips rutted forward, deeper into you. You squeaked with surprise and then chuckled, moving to match him.

You fell easily into a rhythm together. It flowed as naturally as the tides. Roger filled you with each thrust, and you climbed slowly together back up to the edge. His name escaped your lips as he rocked into you. Delicate declarations of his love and your beauty swept off his breath. You didn’t hear them, but you felt them.

He sped up and it was like coming out of a fog. Each snap of his hips shook you and you clutched onto his shoulders for dear life. Your moans rose in volume and octave as you found yourself clenching around him again.

“Oh - Roger - Oh God -”

“I’m so close, baby,” he grunted. “Please, one more for me.”

He removed his hand from its proximity to your face and slid it between your bodies, finding your clit as if it were magnetized. He rubbed tight, fast circles on it, and your vision began to blur.

The second one hit you harder and more suddenly. White exploded behind your eyes as your walls fluttered around his cock. Roger cried your name once more and spilled into you, slowing down his thrusts as you peaked together. You twitched against him as he guided you back down steadily. He slowed to a stop and watched you panting beneath him.

He inched himself out of you. You still winced at the feeling. Once he was able, he rolled off you and you crawled into his arms. You needed his warmth.

“Mmm, Rog,” you hummed, pulling him closer.

“Good?” he asked.

“Incredible,” you replied.

“I don’t wanna speak too soon, but I think we’ve still got it,” he teased.

You smiled lazily. “We do.”

“What do you need now, love?”

“Sleep,” you said through a yawn.

He chuckled. “Of course you do.”

He kissed your forehead and you both drifted off. All worries about your relationship and the trial were forgotten. For now, you could just be.

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shhh-no-ones-home · 4 years ago

Text

not an obituary javier pena x reader

+++++++++

i am in my feels, hello yes, it is sad boi hours. holy shit this is depressing as hell.

tw: strong mentions and themes of self harm, abuse, death, and past traumas. read at your own risk.

to anyone dealing with this it is okay to reach out, to get help, and to even feel this way. what matters most is your health and safety and just know that it absolutely does get better, i promise. i went through it and i know first hand, you will get through this, and you will live a beautiful life.

song: dead butterflies by architects

tag list: @cynic-spirit

+++++++++

my hands shook as i listened to the ringing of the receiver. i had been crying for hours and my face was still stained by tears. i was only just beginning to calm down, staring at the broken mirror in front of me. god i looked so tired. how did i let this happen again? i said id never let this happen again. well. i guess i hadnt broken my promise yet. i hadnt actually done anything, but the thoughts alone made me feel like i was betraying myself. i squeezed my eyes closed tightly. maybe i should just hang up and let it run its course. then i heard the ringing stop.

"pena."

he said urgently and i felt a sob leave my body.

"hello?"

he asked, a little concerned and the tears started again.

"javi i need help."

i said, crying into the phone as i slid down the wall of my bathroom.

"im leaving now, dont do anything till i get there."

he sounded so worried. but in all fairness he had every right to be. i had told him about my past, at his request, but i still did it. it was hard to hide them given our usual past time so i figured i might as well. he knew where the scars on my body came from. each one had a story that i longed to forget, the new bruises on my wrist just bellow one of them. it was from the rubber band i refused to take off, being apparent of a better habit i had once picked up. it was just enough pain. but what does one do when that isnt enough?

"hurry."

i whispered before the phone went dead. my whole body shook as i kept coming back to the memories of how it felt the first time. god i craved it. i wanted that life back but id come so far. i shook my head as i pressed my forehead into my knees. i just want it to go away. i want the suffering to go away, the memories, the way it felt then and the way it feels now. i could easily let it go now, i knew a million and one ways. but javi was already on his way. i couldnt do that to him. i couldnt let him find me like that. especially not after he'd pushed me to celebrate a decade of being clean. ten whole years of not hurting myself. i almost couldnt believe it. it felt like such a long time when i heard it out loud like that.

"y/n!"

i heard, snapping my attention to the bathroom door as it swung open. javi was staring down at me with a worried look on his face but he sighed in relief when he saw me still fully intact.

"jesus, you scared the shit out of me."

he said, standing beside me and sliding down the wall to sit beside me. i just stared at him, eyes blurry as he looked back to me.

"i cant do it anymore."

i croaked out, feeling another hot tear slip down my cheek. he looked at me with the utmost pity before kissing my forehead and pulling me into his side.

"talk to me, please, what happened?"

he said softly, petting my hair as i pushed my face into his chest. i just shook my head.

"i dont want to feel this way again."

i mumbled against him, moving my hand into his. i looked down at them together as he ran his thumb over the back of my hand.

"when was the last time you left the house?"

he asked and i bit my lip, watching as he turned my hand over. i felt so guilty in that moment. he knew the answer, i hadnt been to work in over a week.

"would you mourn me?"

i asked and he pulled me up, holding my head in his hands and looking between my eyes. i wanted to cry again, seeing now just how broken he was too.

"you know i would."

he said softly and i nodded, closing my eyes but only for a moment. i looked back at him as he pressed his thumbs through the tear tracks on my face, pushing them away.

"but you and i both know i dont do funerals."

he said and i let out a shaky laugh, watching as he tried to flash me a smile, albeit unconvincing.

"i dont think i could trust anyone else to write my eulogy though."

i said and he moved his hands slowly away from me, taking my hand back in his.

"well if i have any say in it, you wont need one for a long while."

i glanced over his face a few times before he stood up, pulling me to my feet too. he brought me out into the living room and it was the first time id really had a good look at the damage id caused. my furniture was all flipped about, glass shattered from the flower vase on my coffee table and the water from it poured out onto the rug. if anything it reflected exactly how i felt about the situation. i sighed at the sight of it.

"ya know,"

i started, taking his attention as we made it passed the wreckage and to the door. he paused as he reached for it.

"once upon a time i wanted so badly for my address to be six feet under."

he looked over my face again as i spoke.

"but even all the depression in the world couldnt make me leave you."

i said and he just stared at me for a second. when i looked down and moved to open the door he pulled me into a tight hug, holding me like id slip away if he let go or loosened his grip. i hugged him back like my life depended on it, and in that moment it felt like it did.

"ill do everything i can to keep you safe."

he whispered before kissing the side of my head. i breathed deeply, feeling some of my stresses melt away as i inhaled him.

"as long as thats true i promise to stay out of the paper."

i said as he pulled away, nodding once at me and opening the door.

"if i ever got that call i dont know what id do with myself."

he confessed as we made our way to the stairs of the apartments that led outside. i side nodded.

"i guess we'll never find out."

i said, offering my pinky as we stepped into the warm open air of the Columbian summer. he just looked at me for a second before interlocking his pinky with mine.

"thats a deal. now lets go get you something to eat, im sure you could use it."

he mentioned and i laughed a little, looping my arm around his as we made our way down the street. i watched the ground for a moment as we walked, thinking how lucky i was to have him in my life. how lucky i was to be able to live for someone that wasnt myself, because the one thing they never tell you is that if you arent tethered to someone it makes it that much easier to let go. now i had someone who would look after me, keep me dependable, and keep me alive. even if he didnt know it. i half smiled at the thought, slipping my hand in his and swinging our arms back and forth. he just looked at me and i kissed his shoulder lightly.

"thank you javier, i dont know what i would do without you."

#wattpad #x reader #javier pena #narcos #netflix #imagines #one shots #311

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years ago

Text

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 13: Paper And Ink]

A/N: Can I just take a second to say how happy I am to see all of your reactions to my little fic?! I have never been a super popular writer on Tumblr but I like to think that I have some of the cleverest, kindest, most thoughtful readers around. Your support for and emotional investment in my stories makes me so, so, so happy. Please enjoy this latest chapter...it’s the longest one yet! 💜

Also, MAJOR shout out to @writerxinthedark and her constant insanely astute observations!! Girl, I’m shook. Do you have ESP or what...? 👀

Chapter summary: Roger tries to reach a compromise, John tries to offer solace, Chrissie tries out some retro science, Y/N tries to process some alarming new information.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language! Discussion of substance abuse! Babies! Drama! Angst!!!

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation @queen-crue @jennyggggrrr @madeinheavxn @whatgoeson-itslate @brianssixpence @simonedk @herewegoagainniall @stardust-killer-queen @anotheronewritesthedust1 @pomjompish @writerxinthedark

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

“You can’t leave,” John pleads. One of his hands—strong, nimble, a gold band on his wedding finger—is clutching the wooden bedpost. Chrissie paces back and forth beside him, gnawing her thumbnail until it bleeds, silent tears streaking down her ruddy cheeks.

You throw your open suitcase onto the bed and start yanking things out of drawers: panties and bras—the practical ones, not the sexy ones, I won’t be needing those in the immediate future—jeans, velvet dresses, sweaters, socks, mittens, scarves. It’ll be cold in Boston. “I’m going home.”

“Love, please...” Chrissie sobs.

“I’m not staying here.” Your voice is surprisingly steady, resolved even. “I’m not going to stay in this house with him. I’m not going to follow him around the world watching him fuck other women and humiliate me in tabloids. I’m done, I’m going home.”

“You have a contract with the record company, you’re the tour nurse!” Chrissie protests. “Jesus christ, they could sue you for non-performance! When does the band leave, a week from now?!”

“Six days,” John says softly.

“Six days!” Chrissie shouts at you.

“I’m not going. They can sue me, that’s fine.” I don’t have any money anyway. None that’s actually mine.

“You can’t leave,” John says again. His greyish eyes are wide and restless, desperate; you didn’t know it was possible for him to be this agitated. He’s not Queen’s unflappable bassist today.

“Yeah? Observe.” You pick the pink conch shell up off the dresser—the one John found for you on the beach in Ostia, during a tour that feels like a lifetime ago—and tuck it gently into a corner of your suitcase where it will be cushioned by knit sweaters. “John, I have a bunch of your sketches downstairs. There’re some on the refrigerator, some framed in the living room, a couple on the dining room walls...will you go get those for me, please? I can’t leave without them.”

John just stares at you, blinking and thunderstruck.

Next to the empty space on the dresser where the conch shell once lived is the Canon F-1. You consider the camera for a moment, then snatch it up and move to hurl it out of the second-story window.

John jolts out of his paralysis. “No no no no, I think you’ll regret that.” He gently pries the Canon out of your grasp and places it back on the dresser.

“What the hell are you going to do in Boston?!” Chrissie wails. “All your friends are here now! Your life is here!”

“I’m going to get a job at the hospital and marry some boring, predictable man and get a house with a white picket fence and fill it with two exceptionally average children”—if I can have them, and that’s a big if as it turns out—“and a golden retriever and live out the rest of my days in blissful, prosaic anonymity. Thanks for asking.”

“Oh come on, you don’t want that!” Chrissie snaps. “You’ve never wanted that, that’s why you came to London with the band to begin with!”

“I don’t want to feel like this!” you scream, and all those tears you didn’t know you were biting back start spilling out in hot, torrential streams. Your breath hitches; your throat burns. Like wildfire. John pulls you to his chest, murmurs that everything will be okay, cradles the back of your head with his palm. You know he’s exchanging a glance with Chrissie over your shoulder. That’s why she brought him here, after all; to help talk you off the ledge, to help convince you to stay.

“What a fucking mess,” Chrissie says in despair.

“It’s my fault,” you choke out.

“It’s not,” John whispers.

“It is,” you insist bitterly, sobbing into him. “Everyone warned me and I ignored it because I’m a complete idiot and now I’ve gone and ruined my life.”

“You don’t have to go!” Chrissie implores. “You can stay here. With us, with me and John and Mary and Freddie and Brian. You have British citizenship, you can get a job at a hospital in London if you really want to leave the band. You can stay with me and Bri for as long as you need to until you’re back on your feet, or with Freddie...they’d give you any amount of money you needed to get started...they’d be heartbroken if you left, love, you’ve been there for them through everything, since Queen was just a bunch of nobodies, since we were all flat broke...they’re never going to forget that loyalty you showed them, that faith. They’d do anything to repay you.”

You sigh shakily as you untangle yourself from John and wipe your eyes. “If I stay here, I’ll spend the rest of my life dodging Roger at birthday parties and holidays and restaurants. And being known as the wife he fucked around on. I’ll be a pitiful mess of a person. They had a photo of me in the News Of The World, did you know that? A tiny little circular photo under a huge, glamorous one of Dominique. ‘Look everyone, check out the dashing rock star’s sad, pathetic, unremarkable, soon-to-be-ex-wife. Surely you can appreciate why he’d shop around.’”

“Yes, I saw that part,” Chrissie says softly. She understands some of what you’re feeling, surely, and yet she must also have a sensation of gratefulness; plenty of musicians wander like tornadoes, touching down and sowing chaos wherever their compulsions take them, but few wives have the misfortune of seeing their names and faces paraded through the tabloids. Suddenly, Chrissie isn’t the most-wronged wife in Queen anymore.

You bury your face in your hands. “Oh god. My parents might even hear about this. They could be buying wine and Cheetos at the grocery store and see my husband and his girlfriend on the cover of a magazine in the checkout line.”

“I’m so sorry,” Chrissie replies, her voice hoarse. John crosses his arms over his chest and says nothing; but he kicks the wooden bedframe hard enough to send a crack down the center of the footboard.

Downstairs, you hear the front door open. Chrissie and John whirl to you, panicked.

“Hey, love of my life!” Roger’s chipper voice vaults up the staircase. Someone hasn’t checked the headlines yet. “Baby? You home?”

“Do you want me to stay?” John asks you.

“No, I can handle it.”

“Are you sure? Because I’ll stay for as long as you want me to. I’ll hide in the goddamn bushes outside the window if that would be helpful.”

“No, John.” You smile and climb onto your toes to wrap your arms around the back of his neck, to hug him goodbye. He’s warm and comfortable and sheltering. He feels more like home than this house ever has, isn’t that strange? And for a second, just one, you wonder what your life would look like if there had been no Veronica, no Roger.

You’d still be in Boston, you idiot, you chastise yourself. You never would have come to London with Queen if it wasn’t for Roger. And You’re My Best Friend wasn’t about you.

“Thank you,” you tell John. “But I have to do this part myself.”

“Okay. Don’t you dare go cart yourself off to Heathrow without telling me first, alright?”

“Sure,” you say, not meaning it. I can’t let him stop me.

“Good luck,” Chrissie frets, wringing her hands, twirling her wedding ring. “Call me, okay? I’m going to be a nervous wreck until I hear from you. I’ll chew my poor fingers to the bone.”

“I’ll call. I promise.”

“Hey baby!” Roger materializes in the bedroom doorway, pushes his prescription sunglasses up into his windswept blond hair, peers around the room at you and John and Chrissie. And you’re suddenly reminded of how a room changes when Roger walks into it, how everything shifts somehow, becomes brighter, more alive, brimming with magnificent potential; how cavernously empty the world would feel without him in it. Chrissie glares at him with her arms crossed, nostrils flaring, tapping one fashionable riding boot against the hardwood floor. “Uhhhh...am I interrupting something?”

“Bye, love.” Chrissie kisses you quickly on each cheek and breezes out of the room. You hear her boots clopping as she descends down the staircase. After a moment, John follows her.

“You despicable prick,” John hisses as he passes Roger in the doorway.

Roger is mystified. “Baby, what’s going on?” His eyes flick to the hastily packed suitcase, to the cracked footboard. “What the fuck happened to the bed?”

There are so many ways to ask the same question. When did you decide that you needed to have her? Who is she to you? How could you do this to me? What did she give you that I couldn’t? Instead, what you ask him this: “Have you seen the News Of The World today?”

His brow furrows into deep grooves. “No...” But something primal flashes in his vivid blue eyes, just briefly. Something like fear. He knows he’s done things that would hurt me. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to unearth them all.

You grab the magazine off the bed and hurl it at him. Roger picks it up off the floor and flips to the front page. His shoulders slump, one hand comes up to cover his mouth, he exhales in a deep sigh; his whole body shifts the same way a room does when he walks out of it: dims, deflates, goes bloodless. He calmly lays the News Of The World on the dresser, folds his sunglasses and sets them down as well, rubs his eyes with the heels of his calloused hands. Then he turns to you.

He’s going to deny it, you think, revolted. He’s going to deny it just like Brian did, try to patch things up in some weak and gutless way, placate me so he can drift off to sleep at night imagining he’s a good husband.

But Roger isn’t Brian. He never has been.

He asks you quietly, in surrender: “What do you want to know?”

Your stomach plunges into freefall, because this is real. Maybe there was some part of me that was hoping this was a mistake, some naïve and hopeful sliver of idealism left over from childhood, from a time when everything in the world was either good or evil and nothing lived in the treacherous shadows in between. “How long?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, Roger, it matters.”

“Not long.” He waves a hand glibly. “She...ah...well she thought I was pretty maddening at first. It took her a while to come around to the idea.”

You flinch like you’ve been slapped. “Jesus christ, Roger. Thank you, that’s great, thank you for that information.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he protests, exasperated. “I’m really not, I don’t...I just don’t...bloody hell, I don’t know how to do this.”

“To do what? To fuck around?! Obviously that’s inaccurate—”

“No, to confess!” he shouts. “I never confess, I never admit it, I just avoid or deflect or deny it, and when that doesn’t work anymore I just walk out because usually I don’t care enough to have the conversation. But now I do so I’m really, really trying to give you what you want. I thought you wanted answers. So ask me whatever you want to and I’ll tell you the truth.”

Everyone lies. Everyone disappoints you. I knew that, I really did...but somehow I let him convince me that I didn’t. That he was built of nothing but light. “Do you love her?”

“No,” he replies instantly. “It’s a fling, that’s all.”

“So you didn’t corner her somewhere and tell her that you’re planning on breaking up with me.”

Roger winces. I wasn’t going to end up like Josephine, that was the first promise I made to myself on British soil. And look where I am now. “No. Never.”

“Why, Roger?”

He looks away, runs his hands through his hair; he genuinely doesn’t know how to answer.

You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you even sorry...?”

He speaks carefully, purposefully. “I’m sorry you had to find out, that you were hurt by it. And I’m really fucking sorry about that headline. Discretion is extremely important to me. I never would have let that happen, but you know...” He shrugs, smirking guiltily in that disarmingly bewitching way that he does. Stop, you warn yourself, feeling something in you grasping for reasons to stay. “I haven’t been thinking especially clearly lately.”

“Yes, between the coke and the drinking and the pills you’re quite the disaster, aren’t you?” Scalding tears slither down your face. “So you’re not sorry you did it. You’re not sorry that you’re an addict or a cheater.”

“It’s not about that. It’s...” He searches for the words like premonitions in tea leaves. “Yes, there are drugs and parties and women. There are a lot of those things. But I’m not addicted to any of them. I’m addicted to being Roger Taylor, drummer of one of the best bands in the world. It’s everything I am, it’s everything I’ve ever wanted to be. I never want to live in a world where that’s not who I am anymore. You understand that, what it’s like to feel caged and miserable, you know what it’s like to want to experience things. And so if it takes coke and pills to get up on that stage every night and drum under those blinding lights until it feels like my arm is split open again, okay, no problem, I’ll do it. If women are a part of the lifestyle, a part of being free, then I’ll take advantage of that. And why the fuck does it matter? Why do so many people think that fidelity is the ultimate manifestation of love? Plenty of faithful people hate each other. Plenty of people who screw around are irretrievably in love with one person, are fucking owned by them. I love you. I want to come home to you. I want to raise my children with you if that’s a possibility, and if it’s not then fine, whatever, I’m gonna love you all the same. You’re still on my list, Boston babe. You’re always going to be on my list. Why isn’t that enough?”

“John doesn’t cheat,” you object helplessly. Even if he has all the reasons in the world to.

“No, he doesn’t. But he’s a very different kind of man. A better one, probably. But you’ve always known who I was. And I never promised you an ordinary life.”

You shake your head, hide your face in your hands, can’t force the words to leave your trembling lips. It’s not enough for me. Maybe I thought it could be, but it’s just not.

Roger says, gently: “I know we said the marriage didn’t mean anything”—yes, that was your condition, wasn’t it?—“but that’s not completely true. It’s not just paper and ink. It does mean something. It means that you’re the person I want to take care of, the person I can rely on to provide for my family and friends if something ever happened to me. It means that I love and trust you in a way that is unconditional. That you’re my best friend.”

“I don’t want to live like this, Roger,” you whisper.

“So what’s next?” he demands. “So you’re going to take that suitcase and run back to the States and...what, get a job at the same hospital you were so desperate to escape from? Back out of the tour? Abandon the band and the friends you have here?”

“If that’s what it takes to get away from you.”

For the first time, you hurt him; you really hurt him. You see it ripple across his face like cold, swirling ocean waves. “Please don’t leave.”

“I’ve already decided, Roger.”

“Come on, baby, please, we can work this out—”

“I’m not interested.” You zip the suitcase closed, heave it off the bed, and drag it towards the door.

“So even if we can’t work it out,” Roger erupts, bolting to the doorway, to stand between you and whatever a life after him looks like. “Don’t leave the band. Leave me, just me, but not the band. I know you don’t want to leave them. I know they’ll be devastated if you disappear, not to mention they might legitimately murder me over it. Bri can be a twat, sure, but he’s convinced you saved his life. You and I might be the only people on the whole fucking planet who can see how brilliant John is, who understand him. Freddie’s convinced you’re some kind of good luck charm, you know how superstitious he is, he’ll start having those meltdowns again where he insists he can’t sing five minutes before a show and that the band is doomed, the tour will be a complete disaster. We need you. And I want you to keep the job you love, the travel, the mansion, the money, I want you to have all of it. You’ve earned it. You shouldn’t lose it because of me.”

And as you clutch the handle of your suitcase, your mind dashing from one logistical step to the next—grab my passport and some cash out of the safe, collect all of John’s sketches, call a cab to take me to Heathrow—you start remembering things. But you don’t see them like flashes, like misty reveries, no; you feel them like heat from a roaring fireplace, like Mediterranean pebbles digging into the wrinkled soles of your feet, like the deafening screams of crowds filling the Rainbow Theater, the Hammersmith Odeon, the Apollo, the Budokan, Madison Square Garden. Memories of excavating shards of glass from John’s hand in a New Orleans mansion crawling with fantasies and nightmares, of toasting pink champagne in the lobby of the Chelsea Register Office, of museums and parks and beaches and apartments filled with threadbare couches and extravagant dreams, of Christmases and New Year’s Eves, of Roger convincing you to come to London with Queen on a June morning in 1974, cradling your face in his rough hands, promising you everything you’ve ever wanted: ‘Love...Accept. The fucking. Offer.’ And you could run to the other side of the world, sure; but you’re never going to be able to carve those memories out of your bones.

You let go of the suitcase, and Roger’s smile lights up his face like the sun.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Careful...careful, love...” Roger contorts himself to keep the umbrella over you and the Boston cream pie you’re carrying as rain pours out of a sinister grey sky. You both hurry beneath the roof that covers the front porch and ring the doorbell. Freddie answers wearing a tight green shirt, jeans, and an enormous toothy grin.

“Oh, for me?” he squeals, eyeing the pie.

You step inside as Roger stays out on the porch to shake off the umbrella and finish his cigarette; Chrissie hates people smoking in her house, and one should get what they want on their birthday. “Obviously, it’s for Chris. But I suspect she’ll share.”

Chrissie appears in a blue dress, her wide-set pale eyes alight as she gazes at the pie. “At last! I finally get to try one of these! And yes, Freddie, I’m only going to have the teeniest tiniest piece, so there will be more than enough to go around.” She embraces you and takes the pie. “Is this homemade?! It is, isn’t it?”

“Happy birthday, Chrissie,” you announce with a tired smile. Queen leaves for the News Of The World Tour in two days. You’re leaving with them, to everyone’s palpable relief; Freddie and Brian have never mentioned the headline to you, but they know about it of course. Everybody knows. It’s an elephant in every room, an ancient beast that quakes the floor when it walks.

“I’m going to miss you like crazy,” Chrissie tells you. “I always do.” But she’s a little thankful, too; because spending months away on tour is undoubtedly preferable to a permanent absence, a visibly missing piece like a chip in a tooth.

“I know. I’ll call.”

Roger steps inside the massive Chelsea home. “Happy birthday, Chris!”

She promptly spins away, ignoring him, and ferries the pie off to the kitchen. Freddie wraps an arm around Roger’s shoulder and steers him into the living room where Mary, John, a perpetually pregnant Veronica, and a host of assorted Mullens and Mays are passing the twins around like footballs and chatting over appetizers and tea and cookies. Biscuits, you correct yourself. And the shrimp cocktail are called prawns.

“What did you say your name was?” a middle-aged, rotund, bearded man asks John disinterestedly. “Josh? James?”

“John, actually. I’m the bassist.”

The man frowns as he gobbles down a shrimp. “Oh, how odd, I’ve never even heard of you.”

“Yeah?” Roger pipes as he sails over and claps the man aggressively on the shoulder. “Well let me introduce you. This is John Richard Deacon and he wrote You’re My Best Friend, you’ve heard of that one, right? He learned the electric piano to compose it. Yes, he doesn’t just play bass, he has all sorts of gifts. He’s massively talented. He builds amps and manages finances and can sketch pictures that look like freaking photographs...”

You wander into the kitchen where Chrissie is slicing herself a miniscule portion of Boston cream pie. “Oh fuck it, it’s my birthday. I’m having a proper piece of pie, thighs be damned.” She goes in for a second attempt. “You want any?”

“No, I’m alright. I haven’t been feeling well.”

Her brows knit together in concern. “Not compulsively consuming your own weight in snacks to avoid socializing with strangers? That’s unlike you.”

Well, since you asked, I was feeling even more piggish than usual until I found out my husband was fucking somebody else, and also that the entire country knows about it. “Yeah, weird.”

Brian enters the kitchen. “Oh, pie!”

“You want a piece?” Chrissie asks cheerfully. So they’ve made up somehow. Like they always do, like they always will.

“Yes, absolutely, but I’ll get it myself, love. You go enjoy yourself. It’s your day.”

She beams up at him and journeys out to the living room. You are in no rush to join her. Watching Roger charm the crowd, allowing him to dazzle you, to lull you back into his orbit like the subsidiary moon of a vast, ringed planet...no, you have no stomach for that at all. You pour yourself a glass of red wine and try to swallow without tasting it.

Brian’s doting demeanor evaporates like he’s taken off a mask. He sighs, mixes himself a Vesper, sips it as he leans against the kitchen counter and studies you warily. “How are things?”

“Paradisiacal.” Each night you sleep in the guest room with the blue-grey walls and the seahorse-patterned blankets. Roger tried to give you the main bedroom, still sleeps in a spare room in case you ever decide you want it; but you like that the blue room is smaller, more humble, that it smells like John’s brand of cigarettes, that there is no gaping emptiness where Roger usually is. Roger doesn’t try to talk to you about Dominique. He is attentive, optimistic, easygoing, affectionate; he lights the fireplace in the living room and brings you hot chocolate, he wears the red hat you once knit him every time he leaves the house. But he left the paperwork showing he’d sold the apartment—the ‘London Love Nest,’ isn’t that what the headline called it?—out on the kitchen table where you would see it. You know he’s waiting for you to forgive him, as if that’s an inevitability. And every once in a while you feel a guttural stab of fear that he might be right. Someone puts Hotel California on the record player out in the living room. “Every time I hear this goddamn song I get acid trip flashbacks. I start thinking of sharks for some reason.”

“It reminds me of...” Brian’s gaze goes murky. “Well, of a girl from New Orleans.”

The one from the hot tub. The one with a peach tattooed on her shoulder blade.

“We have a stop there,” you say. “You know, on the tour. We’ll be there for a few nights.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten.”

No, perhaps that’s all he’s been thinking about.

“How are you these days, Bri? Two beautiful children, adoring wife, We Will Rock You becoming a fantastically successful single...your world must seem pretty golden.”

“You’d think so.” He peers out the window where raindrops are clinging to fogged glass and the November skies are illuminated with episodic flashes of lightning like Morse code. At last he says, very softly: “I think I married the wrong person.”

“I think I did too.”

Bri raises his eyebrows and clinks his Vesper against your wine glass. “So we were both right. Fantastic. Cheers.”

You gulp down the rest of your wine, feeling your stomach roil in protest. You pour another glass. Brian drains his Vesper.

“You want me to escort you out there?” Brian asks, gesturing towards the living room. “I’ll happily redirect everyone’s attention towards the twins if you’d like. They’re very convenient conversation starters.”

“No, thanks Bri. You go ahead.”

“Alright. If you insist.” A smile ghosts his lips. “I’m really glad you’re coming with us, love. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision. And I’m sure things won’t feel easy for a long time. But Queen wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now get out there before I punch you in your fragile liver.”

Brian laughs, sets his glass in the sink, and disappears into the living room. You stall in the kitchen by yourself. You sip wine, browse through the family photos displayed on the refrigerator, listen to the polite chatter of the guests from a distance. Eventually you venture towards the living room before losing your nerve and veering down the hallway towards the back porch. Outside the rain is falling torrentially, the sky rumbling with thunder. John is sitting on a wooden bench under the roof and smoking as he gazes out into the storm.

“Hey,” he says, sliding over to make room for you on the bench.

You sit down beside him and hold out your hand. He stares at you for a moment, puzzled, before passing you his cigarette. You take one long drag and give it back to him. John blinks at you, stunned.

“That’s extremely bad for you,” he teases.

“So is getting hammered and driving into cop cars.”

He clutches his chest. “Ouch. I felt that in my soul.”

You shove him, chuckling. He points down at your boots. You swing your feet up to rest in his lap, and he lays his left hand on them while he smokes with his right.

“Go ahead,” he says. “I know you might not want to talk about it. That’s fine. But if there’s any baggage you’d like to unburden yourself of, I’m listening.”

I’ve got baggage, all right. I’ve got enough to fill a Boeing 747. “Everyone warned me. Everyone told me it was a terrible idea to fall in love with him. Everyone except you, John. Why is that?”

He’s slow and deliberate when he answers. “I never wanted you to be with someone because...you know...because you thought you should be with them. Because they were the ‘smart’ choice or the ‘safe’ choice or whatever. I wanted you to make your own decisions, whatever those were. I wanted you to be with someone...whoever that was...only because you wanted to be. Because you loved them.”

You nod. “That makes sense, I suppose.”

“I told you once that it didn’t mean anything to someone like Roger when he...you know. When he does what he does. I was telling the truth then, and I’m telling the truth now. I don’t think it meant anything to him. And I don’t know if that kills any of the pain I know you’re feeling, but I hope it does. Because you being in pain is the absolute last thing I’ve ever wanted. Are you angry with me for not trying to change your mind?”

“No,” you say immediately, and you mean it. “Not at all.”

“Good. Because they took away my driver’s license for a year and I’m probably going to need a lot of rides from you.”

You laugh, a brash authentic laugh, and John grins over at you.

Chrissie hauls the sliding glass door open and steps out onto the porch with a frustrated huff. “I know this party is technically for me, but when you’re the mother of infant twins sometimes all you really want is a smoke, a nap, and a bottle of vodka.” She lights a cigarette and plops down into a chair facing the bench.

“How are you, Chris?” What you mean is: Have you screamed much at your husband lately?

“I’m doing pretty well today, actually.”

“Is that because you’re genuinely happy or because you’ve trained yourself not to be sad?”

Chrissie smirks. “You’ll find those feel like the same thing after a while.”

“No, I won’t find out. Because I’m not staying with him.”

“Love...” Chrissie begins.

“I’ll stay in London. I’ll even stay with the band. But I’m not going to stay married to him.”

“Y/N, please, maybe you should think about this,” Chrissie presses. “I know you love him. And I know he makes you wonderfully happy when times are good. Maybe that’s all we can ask for, you know? Wives in our predicament. Maybe we can learn to cherish them when they’re with us, bottle up the magic, store it on a shelf to tide us over until they come back home. No one else is going to light you up the way he does. There’s only one Roger Taylor. Withdrawal from that is going to be hell.”

You glower out into the wind and rain and say nothing.

“And that woman, Dominique Beyrand? I’ve asked around about her, she’s got some husband back in France that she goes home to when she’s not working here. It’s just a fling for her too, it’s nothing serious. I don’t think there was any chance he would have ever considered actually leaving you for her.”

“He bought her an apartment, Chris.”

“Men do stupid things that don’t mean anything all the time. Isn’t that right, John?”

“Sure,” he offers ungenerously.

You stop yourself before the words tumble recklessly from your lips: Maybe you’re trying to convince yourself more than me, Chrissie. “I’m divorcing him,” you vow quietly.

“Okay,” Chrissie capitulates. “Okay. I’m sorry, love, please forgive me. I only got two hours of sleep, Teddy was crying all night.” She puffs on her cigarette and sighs mournfully. “I hate to say it, and I don’t mean to be insensitive, but I guess it was sort of lucky you never got pregnant. Can you imagine trying to split up when you have children together? Working out custody and finances and holidays, having to pretend like you don’t want to disembowel each other all the bloody time...it would be torture.”

John glares at her, his left hand still on your boots.

“Yeah,” you respond; but now you’re distracted, because you remember the reason why you had been so determined to ignore the phone when Chrissie called to warn you about the News Of The World headline. Because the kitchen phone was right next to the calendar, and the calendar would report in no uncertain terms that your period was due.

When was that? A week ago?

You can’t be late. You’ve never been late.

“Oh god,” you breathe.

“What?” John asks, concerned.

In reply, you lurch off the bench, stumble to the edge of the porch, and vomit red wine into the wet grass like a gush of blood. Chrissie soars to you and rubs your back as you retch into her lawn. “Oh no, you poor thing!”

“John, go away,” you choke out as he approaches. “I’m humiliated, I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“You saw me in a jail cell. I’m staying.”

You turn to look up at them. They read the raw horror and shock in your eyes. John’s jaw falls open and he shakes his head, firmly in denial. You could relate.

Chrissie gasps. “Oh, bloody hell.”

“No fucking way,” you wheeze. “After all this time, after all those months of nothing...”

“You better take a test,” Chrissie says. “Come on, I have a kit upstairs.”

She pulls you to your feet and leads you to her bathroom, deftly avoiding the increasingly intoxicated crowd downstairs. John waits just outside the door as Chrissie rummages around in the closet for the test kit. It’s a contraption that looks like a chemistry set, with a dropper and a test tube and a stand with a mirror. You piss into a paper cup—successfully although not with flying colors—and wash your trembling hands in the sink with a piece of pink soap shaped like a seashell. Then you lay on the cold linoleum floor with a folded towel for a pillow and a bucket within reach. Chrissie trickles a few droplets of urine into the test tube, mixes in the contents of a small plastic vial, and places the test tube in the holder that suspends it above the mirror.

Chrissie explains to John: “If she’s pregnant, the chemicals will form a brown ring in the tube. If there’s no ring, we’re in the clear.”

“How fitting,” you chuckle from the floor, dazedly, cynically. “That would be the only ring I’ve ever gotten.”

It takes two hours. The three of you loiter in the bathroom, Chrissie and John perched on the rim of the enormous garden tub, fidgeting and chitchatting anxiously. They alternate popping downstairs, mingling just long enough to not arouse suspicions, bringing back biscuits and bits of toast that they futility try to coerce you into eating. Chrissie doesn’t like the smell of cigarettes in the house, she never has; but now both she and John are chain smoking as they wait and periodically get up to check the test tube.

“This isn’t real,” you whimper. “This can’t be real, right? There’s no way the universe has this ironic a sense of humor.”

“Wait, something’s happening.” John waves Chrissie over to the test kit. She examines it.

“Love...” Chrissie begins, her voice tentative, her eyes glossy.

“No,” you insist. “No way, no fucking way, I don’t believe this...”

Chrissie turns the kit so you can view it, so you can see what she does reflected in the tiny mirror: a single dark ring that informs you you’re carrying Roger’s child.

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