#didn't feel right to put this in the post itself

[atomicsuperrobot]

Oh hey does anybody know yet what the Twitter thing was about? I don't really go on there anymore; thinking about deleting in order to remove the temptation, tbh... Not a big fan of some of the fandom on there, for reasons I refuse to elaborate on; to say nothing about the site in general (prime example being that blocking has been nerfed). It was supposed to be today, tho, so I was wondering if anybody had seen it yet.

[cherryblossom-enthusiast]

Unrequited (Arthur Morganxf! Reader) - RDR2

A/N: Whoever decided that there could be a button where Arthur Morgan says "good girl" how ever many times you want, I hope both sides of your pillow are cold.

Synopsis: Arthur loved Mary, didn't he? So, why was it he was spouting all this nonesense about loving you?

Warning/ Tags: Angst. But like SO MUCH FLUFF. Allusions to Sex. Mentions of violence. Coarse language. Kissing. Hurt/ Comfort. Angst with a happy ending.

Word Count: 6.1K

Masterlist

Even now, Arthur Morgan was a lovesick fool for Mary Linton.

You shouldn’t have been surprised; you weren’t really. Arthur doesn’t talk about her much anymore, but you’d known him long enough to see he’d never really let that part of himself go. The part of him that loves. That dreams of something better for himself even if he thinks he’s the big, bad, scary man that he is.

And maybe in some aspect, he is that man.

Threatening, bartering, killing. Sometimes you look into his eyes and see nothing but a hard, desolate exterior that wouldn’t think twice about shooting anybody up so long as Dutch told him to do it. But the reality Arthur Morgan doesn’t want to accept is that there’s goodness hiding within the moulding of a gunslinger enforcer.

You can glimpse that goodness when he helps a woman on the road or gives medicine to a man dying from snake poison, and you can especially see it when he’s hauling his ass on his horse to help Mary even when he’s being pulled left and right to finish errands for the camp.

So no, you shouldn’t have been surprised that Arthur would ride out the earliest he could to help his past lover.

But hell, why did it have to hurt you every damn time?

He returns to camp just after the sun rises and light starts to colour the world around you. The air is still crisp, and the heat of the sun is non-existent on your skin.  You’re brushing your horse’s mane when you hear the familiar holler of his voice towards Bill. You don’t look towards him as his horse trots towards the hitching post.

As he dismounts, he greets you, a little pep in the tone of his voice.

It irritates you immediately.

“Mornin’.”

You grit your teeth and put on the brightest smile you can muster. “Mornin’!”

He takes a moment. His eyebrows crease. “Something matter?”

“Uh-?”

“Nothing it’s just-“ he breaks to think about the right words to say. “You don’t look- Never mind.”

This only encourages you to grow your façade stronger. “So,” you start “what’d Mary need this time?” It comes off a little pettier than you intended it to be. He doesn’t deserve that, hell, Mary didn’t deserve your bitterness either, fine woman she was.

That little fact seemed inconsequential however every time he uttered her name and the familiar feeling of jealousy pricked, downright stabbed itself in your gut.

He picks up on your tone, not appreciating it one bit. The displeasure that carves into his expression almost makes you wince and the fake smile that’s plastered on your face twitches the slightest bit. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You take the coward’s way out, you always do.

You break eye contact and continue to brush away the embarrasment. You’re rewarded by a loving whinny and it almost distracts you from the ice-cold awkwardness you’ve built around this conversation. “Nothin’, just asking.”

Whether he believes your fib or doesn’t, he doesn’t let it show. But him moving on has you thanking God regardless. He takes out a brush, starting to work on his own mare’s mane. “Good girl.” He whispers. Warmth creeps up your neck as your ears tingle towards the baritone timber of his voice. It makes you lose all self-respect for yourself. He sneaks a look at you for the tiniest bit of time before continuing your conversation. “Her brother was involved in some weird religious group.”

“Is that right?”

“Yep,” he sighs “buncha turtle lovers.”

That gets a genuine chuckle out of you even though you don’t understand it. When you glance towards Arthur’s direction, the indifference has faded away from his features and all that’s left is a sarcastic smirk in its place. All frost has melted away and all too quickly you’re back to the ease that usually came with your dynamic.

You can’t help but throw a snide joke his way. “Gosh, if you’re still this involved in their family drama, you should just make it official and propose again.”

The idea haunts you, of course, it does. But you weren’t going to let Arthur know that. The more you joke, the more it becomes real, the more your true feelings become buried underneath a pile of age-old lies and supportive nonsense. Because at the end of the day, if it would make Arthur happy, you’d keep biting your lip and pushing him towards that happiness. 

Love worked funny like that.

His smirk falls and you’re worried you pushed it a tad bit too far. “I tried once and I don’t know if it’ll ever happen.” He turns almost sombre, like thinking back on old memories that were equal parts sweet and bitter and this bothers you in a different way.

“I sincerely think if you were to propose to her right now, she’d say yes with no questions asked.” You hope he sees the genuineness in your intentions.

He merely gives you a scoff, slightly shaking his head. “Yeah well,” he trails off. “It’d never work out now.”

You decide not to continue pushing. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to dig deeper into the situation and even in your sorry narrow-minded state, you could understand and respect keeping your mouth shut when you needed to. You lick your lips and stick another sickly-sweet smile to your face. “Well, you continue on moping, but I can’t say I’ll be sticking around to see you grumbling around.”

That gets him to snort. “And where will the rough and tough princess be today? Helping a rabbit off the road? Wait-“ he pauses for dramatic effect “Talking to the birds and singing em’ a song?” He makes himself chortle quietly at the idea.

“I have a date.”

That gets him to stop cold turkey. He’s only met with a smug appearance on your end. “You?”

You fake great offence and snap at him. “Hey! Even I can seduce someone if I try!”

“No, I know- I” He appears shaken up about your revelation and for a moment, the tiniest fraction of a second, you could almost see the tensing of his jaw. “With who?”

It’s your turn to leer at him. “Why’s it matter?”

“It doesn’t I-“ he stutters “I just-“

You raise an eyebrow. “Well if you must know, he works at the hardware store.” You say as you recall the day you met the gentleman. “I helped him carry out some tasks and he gave me a daffodil in exchange, of all things.” You pointed at the flower currently tucked in the band of your hat. “Cutest thing.”

“Is that right?” He gruffed out.

“Mhm, so I’m gonna escort him and his granddaughter to a birthday party out in Strawberry.” You giggle. “He said he needed a ‘fighter’ with him because of his ‘old bones’ and ‘lumbago’” You roll your eyes. “Sounds like Uncle.”

This seems to take Arthur by surprise. The dark clouds in his eyes clear out and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Wha-?”

You bite your lip to keep your internal laughter from spilling. “Listen, I offered.” You explain. “He’s been giving me discounts at the store and that girl is just the sweetest thing and well-“ you shrug, “I couldn’t say no like the goddamn softie I am.”

The blades in his eyes dull at the statement. The mysterious scrunch of his shoulders from earlier disappears. He steps away from his horse and walks around his mare to shorten the gap between the two of you. It reminds you that he’s tall, much bigger than you are. “That bleedin’ heart of yours is gonna get you killed one day.”

He mutters his words lightly and yet, there’s some odd sadness you don’t understand attached to it. He puckers his lips as if he wants to say more on the matter yet can’t.

You put on your best Arthur impression, puffing up your chest and scrunching your face. “Well, somehow this don’t suit me, now does it?”

He wouldn’t even have to touch you.

At that, Arthur chuckles deeply. “Nah, you obviously ain’t tall enough to be me, shortcake.” He jabs you playfully at the shoulder and in response, you over-exaggerate the motion of being pushed back.

Though, if he really wanted to, Arthur could have you on your back in less than a second.

Before you can go further down that rabbit hole of thoughts, you carry on with the train of humour. “Besides, heard from Jerry there’ll be plenty of cute fellas around to keep me entertained.”

The clouds start to roll back in his demeanour, dare you say with a touch of thunder this time. “You gonna be looking at other men?” The lightness in his voice is gone, only replaced with the venom from before.

You’re befuddled at the quick-changing atmosphere, but don’t go back on what you said. “All I’ve got to look at are you folks all day,” you quip “A girl needs a change of scenery every once in a while.”

He crosses his arms, clearly not amused. “We not pretty enough for you?”

“Well, you are certainly, but I don’t know about Pearson.”

You purse your lips immediately and silently curse yourself at the admission. That same old shit-eating grin makes a comeback. “Is that right?”

You push his arm back, but unlike him, you hardly get the man to move more than half an inch. “Oh shut it.” You quickly un-hitch your horse and mount her. All you want to do is wipe his lips so it turns back into his usual frown, but you’re afraid you’d just embarrass yourself further. “I won’t be back for a while.” You pull your horse away and pat her on the side. “Didn’t know children’s birthday parties could take so damn long.”

“How long will you be gone for?” He mumbles, voice noticeably quieter.

“However long it takes for a fella to get me off.”

Arthur’s eyes widen. The sun highlights the tips of his ears go red. “Wha- What?” He strained out like he wasn’t quite sure of what he just heard.

A real, true laugh comes out of you then as you spur your horse into action, cantering away from camp. You don’t wait to hear the rest of what he has to say. His flushed look is enough of a prize to take with you.

You replay it all the way to Strawberry.

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

It was well past sundown when you return. Truthfully, you don’t even know what time it is, all you knew was that you were gone long enough that laying down on your cot would be much appreciated by your aching muscles. There’s a light breeze and you take your hat off, shaking out your hair.

The party was a success. Jerry and his granddaughter got to and from Strawberry safely, and really, that was all you could wish for when you were being hunted constantly because of the bounty on your head. You knew you offered, hell you were pretty self-approving when you did. But even then, you made sure to ask if Jerry really wanted a gunslinger as an escort, to which he replied, “Oh, shove it.”

Wonderful man.

The rest of the camp, well those that were here anyways, aside from Bill who was back on guard duty, are already fast asleep. The crackle of the fire is the only sound filling your ears other than your own footsteps.

There’s a small oil lamp turned on in the corner of your vision, brightening the blue hue and you instantly know the only bastard who would be up at this hour.

He’s drawing again. His brows are focused in that way you loved so much and he only looks up from his journal once you amble closer towards him. You almost hate that you’ve disrupted him. You could watch him draw for hours and hardly get bored.

He closes the book and looks up at you. You nod towards his hands. “You’ll have to show me what you’re working on at some point, Picasso.”

Arthur lets a huff through his nose. “Not gonna happen.” He motions you to sit beside him and you take him up on his offer. You catch a whiff of his scent, something like tobacco mixed with old leather. It may have been slightly repulsive to anyone else, but this was Arthur, and all it made you feel was safe. “You was gone a long time.” He points out, a bitter tinge to his voice. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

You tilt your head at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Arthur’s eyes narrow. “You just went off and didn’t come back until now.” The bitter tinge morphs into something like annoyance. “I was worried.” He mumbles low.

“Oh, I was fine.” You bump your shoulder against his, but it again, doesn’t make him sway. “Besides, I had a fella with me.”

His hand, the one closest to you, balls up at his side. He’s always been hard to read, but he clearly isn't happy at your revelation. You had half a mind in this late hour to stew in that fact. “Did you now?”

“Sure, one of them single fathers.” You let a small laugh escape you and shake your head, kicking the dirt with your worn-out boots. “Don’t worry, I’d never steal one from a married woman.”

“Was he…cute?” He mutters.

“Never thought I’d hear the word ‘cute’ come out of Arthur Morgan’s mouth.” You catch a glimpse towards him and again note the same pink twinge on his ears, probably embarrassed at being called out on something so stupid.

You finally start to feel that familiar flutter in your stomach hidden behind all that supportive “do what makes you happy nonsense”.

No, you couldn’t have that.

So, you bury it down.

It just became easier that way after all these years.

“That ain’t the damn point.” He continues to grumble. “Was he?”

You ponder the question for a short while. “I mean, he was alright in the looks department, not cute-“

He cuts you off quickly. “Just alright?” He scoffs lightly.

You remember the aforementioned single father in question. His looks are the last thing on your mind. He was alright, not cute, not ugly. Sure, you wouldn’t want to sleep with the man, but-

“He was damn good with his kid, and I thought I’d like to get to know someone like that more.” You reveal through a whisper.

This causes Arthur to frown, but his expression softens. Some of that constant bitterness fades away. “You- “he cuts off and thickly swallows. “You weren’t doing anything strange were you?”

You can feel a prickle of heat in your face at the question. “I mean, we talked sure, but if anything, I just maybe wanted to indulge in a fantasy.” You shrug.

He snaps his gaze back towards you. “A fantasy?”

“What it’d be like-“

God, why was it so hard to say?  “Being normal, having a family.”

The silence that follows is thick and you immediately scold yourself for ruining a perfectly airy conversation just like this morning. You regret it, you do, but you can’t deny how nice it is to finally get that dream off your chest. It wasn’t original, what woman at camp, save Mrs. Adler, didn’t want that stability?

The feeling of riding was freeing. It gave you the grace of flying during a time when you were being held down and that will never change. But nowadays, you find that instead of being held down, you want to be held close. To be called important, matter to someone, so that when you felt lost soaring, you’d always have a beacon home.

“Damn it, you can’t be sayin’ things like that.” He forces out a murmur, a shred of his usual gruff tone.

“You ever think about that?” You tread lightly. “Having kids? Building a farm out somewhere and just-“ a deep sigh escapes you. “living and not surviving?”

It takes him a while to answer your question.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.” The vulnerability colors his voice and it starts to trip you over the edge.

You nod, pursing your lips. “With Mary?” You meekly ask, the crickets chirping making the exchange more awkward. You almost cringe at the silence of it all.

He tenses at her name and it seems like you get your answer.

“With Mary? I mean-“ He tries to dissuade you with absolutely no conviction in his voice. He pauses and curses under his breath. Arthur shakes his head, closing his eyes a moment. “Y’know, it ain’t always about Mary.”

You scoff in disbelief. “Arthur, it’s always been about Mary.” Sighing deeply, you bite your cheek at the acidic truth. “Even when you met Eliza, it was still about Mary.”

He’s taken aback by your statement and a subtle look of frustration overcomes his features. “No, it hasn’t.”

You want to say more, but your sardonic nature halts at his stoic reply. It’s like your heart stops, a coldness and a shrill wake your senses from the inside out. “What?” Your brain halts, all thought ceasing to exist except to process his next response. He tries to avoid eye contact, but you seek his gaze as you tilt your head sideways. “Arthur, what do you mean?” You repeat more sternly, begging to get a straight answer.

He throws you a stick of dynamite.

The smoke clears and all that’s left is the destruction that caters right in the center of your chest.

“What about you?” His voice is hoarse like this is the most difficult thing he’s ever had to squeeze out of his mouth. “What about when it became you?”

Ka-boom.

There’s no longer just a flutter in your stomach, there’s a whole damn circus, and it decides to release the butterflies you worked so hard to keep from their magical chest of caution.

You shake your head and your body goes rigid. You move away from him and stand abruptly as you place your hands on your hips. He’s quick to follow you on your feet.  A sarcastic laugh leaves your throat before you can stop yourself. “Arthur-“

“No, let me finish.” He steps in front of you and holds your shoulders square, turning your body towards him. Even in your bubbling anger, you hate the way your skin immediately melts under his touch. His eyes and actions are pleading for you to stay, so you let him speak, biting your tongue to keep yourself from interrupting. He stumbles over his words. “It’s been you for a long damn time.” He admits. “But I was, I don’t know-“You notice the light sheen of sweat gracing his forehead. “I was scared to say something.”

“If this is some dumb joke-“

“No!” He immediately denies like he’s appalled you would even think of it in that way. 

“Well,” you sneer “I’m sorry if I have a hard time believing that.” You remove his hands from your shoulders stiffly and start to trudge away back to your horse.

In the years you’d known him, Arthur had been a force, even more so when he was younger and reckless. He was stubborn as a mule and despite keeping the peace for the most part, there was a strut in his step when he walked because he knew he had the power to change that fact whenever he wanted and get away scotch-free. Arthur was arrogant in that way, always threatening people with a smirk or an edge to his voice.

But this is the first time you see him flinch and it happens to be at your curt words.

A lump catches in your throat, but you’re too annoyed to care, all but continuing the short distance back to the hitching posts. Arthur is hot on your tracks, not letting up one bit. Maybe Bill was overhearing, maybe one of the girls stirred awake. It didn’t matter, you couldn’t care less. You just wanted to get the hell away from here.

His catches up to you in no time, his strides much longer than yours. He steps in front of your path and when you make a move to step aside, he mirrors your actions. You click your tongue, glowering at him from beneath your lashes. “Look,” he starts “now I know you may not like me, but I-“

That gets your anger rising to incomparable heights. “Not like you?!” You practically shout out. Looking around, you remember where you are and it’s the only reason your voice lowers. “Arthur, I’ve liked you since the day I met you!”

His eyebrows pull together and his nose crinkles. Arthur’s face morphs into something like agitation from its previous confusion. “So, why all this attitude?”

You’re dejected. “Why all this attitude?” You softly hiss. “Why all this attitude when I’ve loved you for years and all I’ve heard about is Mary?”

Arthur winces. He steps back from you, recoiling like he’s just been shot by a sniper rifle.

Good, you think. He should feel like a right asshole.

“’Why all this attitude’ he says!” You giggle manically at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. “Where do I even start?” You begin to rant, hands back on your hips to give you some sort of anchor from sinking towards the ground.  “I don’t know Arthur, maybe it’s because while I’ve been here stewing in self-pity, you were always out seeing her.  Maybe, it’s because every time you were young, drunk, and broken, you’d come back whispering her name, mistaking her for me, and I was the one helping you pick up the pieces.”

Your heart was racing a million yards a minute, but you couldn’t stop now. All the hurt and sorry baggage poured out like molten lava, burning with years of intensity. “Or maybe-“ you point an index finger at him and snap sarcastically as if you’ve just discovered a newfound truth “Maybe, it was because I worked so damn hard to tell myself I wasn’t in love with you and you just-“ your voice breaks.

Arthur doesn’t interrupt you at any part of your monologuing. Just like usual, you can hardly decipher his emotions except notice the colour draining from his face.

“So, I’m sorry that I don’t believe you when you say It’s been me.” You continue. “You’ve given me no reason to believe otherwise.”

You sidestep him, not taking a single look back in fear of him seeing the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You unhitch your horse, giving her a slight pat before mounting her again.

- - - - - - - - - - -

You don’t see or speak to Arthur for a few days after your argument.

You don’t have much energy to talk to anyone really.

So, you somehow end up back at a familiar field surrounded by evergreen trees and flowers. The crystalline water of the hot springs gleams in your eyes and a chill wind sends shivers up your spine.

You set up camp and stay a while. The serenity of the woods is welcomed. You don’t consider yourself the best hunter, but fishing didn’t require the same amount of dexterity. It's quiet, peaceful even. All you hear is the chirp of the birds and the steady flow of water.

It gives you time to cool off, reflect on everything that’s happened.

The more time you spend out here, the more hesitant you are to leave. It's a nice reprieve from the perils of civilization and you find yourself slipping away, trying to grasp a sense of comfort that's unimaginable for you most days.

Tends to happen when you're an outlaw, you suppose.

But one day, as you’re laying under the shade of a tree, feeling the blades of soft grass beneath you, you hear heavy footsteps starting to approach.

There's no need to bother even acting surprised.

Arthur takes a seat beside you with a deep sigh. He leans back, using his hands to support him.

The both of you are silent for a while, not one peep out of your mouths. You expect it to be uncomfortable but having him by your side brings an ease you haven’t felt in days. Arthur continues to stare up at the sun starting to descend in the horizon and you follow suit, eyes trained to the sky above.

“When I met you, I thought you were nothing more than a naïve, innocent little thing.” He starts, baritone drawl catching you off guard. You don’t realize how much you’d missed hearing it until now. “You were this small girl I needed to protect. “

 You glance towards him and notice the small smile now gracing his lips, his eyes glossed over like remembering memories from so very long ago. “You could barely ride a horse, hell, you could barely mount one.”

The genuine warmth in his voice continues to chip away any frustrations left within you as you recall those days like snapshots in your mind.

“Every day, it was something new with you.” He laughs out, making your heart traitorously skip a beat. “You were learning the ropes of it all, and for a while, you were just a ratty brat who wanted to try on boots that were too big for her.”  He pauses and you look at him more clearly this time, head turned towards him fully in an effort to really listen to what he has to say. “But Mary, she-“ he swallows “I could just turn my thoughts off with her.”

He gives out another sigh. “I loved her, I did.” He admits. “It was so easy loving her at the time. We had no expectations of one another, and then all of a sudden that shifted and I don’t know if I could have been the man she needed me to be.”

You ache but it’s not because he mentions his past lover’s name.

“So I ended up actin’ like a goddamn fool. Boozin’, sleeping around.” He groans, obviously not proud of his previous ventures. “Dutch and Hosea, they couldn’t pull me out of it. I mean, they tried everything, but then-“ He releases a relieved chuckle. “Some woman I’d never met before poured a bucket of cold water over my head and pulled out her revolver, threatening to shoot my dumb ass if I didn’t get up.”

You snort as you’re reminded of that day.

It was dry and humid, overall making it a miserable summer afternoon. Arthur stumbled back into camp smelling like he was doused in moonshine, groggy and slurring his words together. Even Hosea, forgiving as he was, cringed at his sorry state.

You just about had it.

After collecting some from the nearby stream, you pushed Arthur down and doused him in ice-cold water. He sputtered, clearly not happy about what you just did and attempted to get up to confront you. You pulled out your gun before he could and shot right between his legs onto the dirt below. “If you don’t pull your damn weight around here, I’ll make sure the next shot hits!” you shouted, utterly disappointed.

“Good times.” You mutter and Arthur’s smile widens.

“Sure.” He agreed. “When my eyes started to clear, I swear to god I thought I was looking at an angel.”

You had a hard time believing that too. “You looked at a woman who just shot at you and thought she was angelic?”

He tries to find better words. “I guess you looked ethereal all together.” He tries to explain. “Like you were something I’d see at the pearly white gates of judgement.”

You sat amused at his thoughts. “That so?”

He’s finally able to make eye contact with you and revels in that fact. “My vision was still a little hazy and you just stood over me, posture straight, hat on.” He takes his hand and scratches his chin. It’s a tick for when he’s nervous. “Your hair had a glow to it from the sun and your eyes, they just- had this fire in em’ I’d never seen before.”

His shoulders drop and the mood suddenly turns mellow. “When we were ridin’ around and ended up at this clearin’, you just took off without me and I realized how much you’d grown into yourself right under my nose. You didn’t change much, you were still the same old, sunshine, animal-lovin’ princess, but the way you carried yourself? Asserted yourself more?  God-.”

He holds your gaze as he continues and it’s like the world holds its breath for whatever he has to say next. “You rode off, hair wild, not looking back at me one bit and I just couldn’t stop starin’ at you because I thought you were such a damn sight.”

“It made me wonder-“ his words trail off. He stops for a while and you let him. You know how much courage it was taking him right now to admit this to you, letting down those guarded stone walls he loved so much.

You lick your lips, and in an act of your own bravery, you settle your hand on top of his, to which he visibly softens upon. “Made you wonder?” You urge.

“If that’s what Mary felt like, seeing me go all those times.” He finishes. “Because I hated it. I hated every time you got on that horse and left, and it would only hurt less whenever you came back.”

Arthur’s hand starts to clench, but you flip his hand in yours so you can interlock your fingers properly. You give his hand a squeeze and the tension eases off.

“But then I hear you wantin’ to go off with some man and all I could do was mope like a sorry idiot because what if-“ His throat works. “What if you rode off and didn’t come back this time?”

“Oh, Arthur.” You softly coo.

His hand starts to make small slow circles over your hands. “You know I realized something when I last saw Mary that I didn’t before.”

You’re expectant to hear what it is.

“Every time it got a little too rough between us, she was done with me.” He perceived. “I don’t blame her, she deserves someone to make her happy, but I wasn’t gonna change fast enough in her eyes.” He squeezes your hand tighter. “But you- you didn’t expect me to change on a dime. You were patient, you understood that I didn’t want to start a family not because I didn’t want to, but because I was afraid of feeling that pain again.”

After clenching his jaw, he takes his other palm and cups your cheek with the utmost tenderness a man of his size could muster. “With you, I feel like I can be something else, something good.” You lean towards his touch, begging that if this were a dream, you never wanted to be woken up. His gaze is soft on your features, highlighted by the starlight above.

“I fell in love with you a long time ago Arthur Morgan.” You confess. “I keep running away because no one holds me close enough to keep me somewhere.”

You feel a lump in your throat as you remember all the times you rode off wanting to hear him shout "Wait!", but he never did.

“I know and I’m sorry for that sweetheart, I really am.”

Tears start to escape your eyes and you don’t bother wiping them away. “Loving you hurt so much Arthur.” You whimper. “I started to pack all of those feelings away if it meant I didn’t have to ruin what we already had.”

He presses his rough lips to your forehead and leans back. “I know sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He tilts your chin up with a finger. “If I could go back and change the way I handled it all, I would.”

“Give me something to believe that this is real. That I’m not just making this up in my misery.”

Arthur takes a moment to look at you before he speaks. He takes the time to figure out how he’s supposed to approach what he wanted to convey “Close your eyes for just a second.” He mumbled, his voice pleading.

You don’t question it and do what he wants you to do. You fully accept you’d be one of those pathetic individuals who’d follow him off a cliff if it meant staying with him and keeping him safe.

In the darkness, you feel him pick up your hands and place them on his chest. Under your palms, you feel the fast thrum of the beat of his heart and the laboured way his chest rises. You stay like that for a few seconds and match your breathing to his.

“Okay,” his voice cuts through your thoughts “now open your eyes.” You follow his command and you open your eyes to Arthur with a tender expression. You feel his breathing get faster, like he’s almost waiting for a reaction.

You tilt your head. “What?”

Arthur chuckles quietly at your question. “This is me trying to prove I’m serious about you.” His hands are still around your wrists, keeping your palms on his chest in place.

“By what? Letting me feel you up?” You jokingly say. “Arthur, who do you think’s being lugging your heavy ass around when you’re drunk, cause it sure as hell ain’t Uncle-“

Even in the darkness that surrounded you, you can sense his embarrassment. He starts to sputter to quickly get words out “Wha- no, that’s not what- I- you-“ He stutters, clearly flustered at the comment. He sighs. “Now, that’s not what I meant and you know it, sweetheart.”

“So then, what?” You push. You’re not trying to be obtuse in any way, but you want to hear a proper answer.

Arthur swallows awkwardly. “I’m just- I want you to know that my heart beats for you.”

It puts you in such a complete state of shock, it renders you speechless.

Just a couple of days ago, you would have been thirsty to hear those words drip out of his lips, but now that you’ve actually heard him say it, you don’t know how to exactly respond.

“Sweetheart?” He calls, voice laced with worry.

You slowly lean down and press your ear against his chest, wrapping your arms around him. He smells like gun smoke and mountain air. The fast bu-dump of his heart is intoxicating, making you break out into a smile.

After a few seconds, he slowly places his own arms around you and pulls you in closer. His hold is firm. Secure. A bandwagon of bandits or federal agents could show up this instant and he wouldn’t let anything or anyone so much as even look at you the wrong way.

He tucks your head under his chin. “I can’t give you a house, or children, or land right now, but I want you to know you have my heart.” He places another soft kiss on your forehead. “You’ve had it for a long time and it’ll always be yours as long you’ll have me.”

“Well, I never thought Arthur Morgan was capable of such sweet words.” You tease.

You feel the rumble of his chest as he freely laughs. “Well, there’s a lot we don’t know about each other it seems.”

You give his statement some thought. “Maybe we can start to find those things about each other out.”

He nods against you. “I’d like that.”

You sniffle and follow him in letting out a laugh. “I’ll end up falling asleep here if we keep this up.”

He snickers at your comment. “I guess I’ll just have to carry you to bed then, huh?” He teases back, his tone light and playful.

You push away from his chest and fix your gaze directly at him, a dazed smile on your face. “I guess you’ll just have to, Arthur Morgan.”

His breathing hitches, obviously not expecting to be accepted on his offer. “Yeah, I suppose I will, sweetheart.”

You place a kiss squarely on his mouth and he reciprocates it almost immediately.

You grasp his face with your hands and do something you’ve been wanting to do since the day you met him.

His lips, though slightly chapped are soft and his stubble that he hasn’t shaved for weeks tickles your cheeks, poking you in a pleasurable way. You taste the tobacco on him and though you don’t smoke, maybe through kissing him you get the appeal. Fingers thread through your braid that’s falling apart by the second.

For the first time, you don't hold the butteflies back.

You part your lips to deepen the kiss and allow him to explore your mouth with his tongue.

It becomes hungry. Insatiable. It's years of pent up frustration and confusion exploding into a possession that consumes your whole body. He groans and you barely notice when he scoops you up, hooking his arm under your legs. “God, we could have been doing this earlier.” He growls.

As you giggle against his lips, Arthur continues to carry you, walking briskly towards your tent.

And the world around you stayed silent that night, except for a few hushed noises.

- - - - - - -

A/N: Yee-haw. Pls interact, I need to to talk to more RDR people lmao. pls.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

(Genshin Impact) Giving Headpats to Furina, Lynette, Arlecchino, Chiori, Lumine, Jean, Eula, Noelle, Ayaka, Sara, Yae, Shenhe, and Xianyun

No one requested this, as for the reason this post exists, the only thing I can give you is this image:

Furina freezes up the moment she feels S/O's hand pick up her hat, only to ruffle her hair.

She squawks for just a moment, quickly blushing and pouting as Furina yanks her hat down.

(Furina) "D-Don't just start patting me out of nowhere!"

Crossing her arms, she looks away, trying to not look bothered about the whole affair.

She finds it highly embarrassing. At least in public.

The moment they're alone and she feels their hand, she closes her eyes and completely relaxes, humming in content.

There's still a blush on her, but it's far more subdued unless S/O starts teasing her about it.

Lynette does not like just anyone rubbing her head due to her cat-like features.

In public, the top of her head in general is completely off limits.

But if it's just her and S/O at home, then she allows it.

In fact, when S/O's hand starts petting her head, she leans into them completely as her eyes close, just like an actual cat.

Her ears twitch a little, but her tail swishes left and right happily.

If they stop too early, Lynette's eyes slowly open and looks at them expectantly.

(Lynette) "...Why did you stop?"

Feeling the warm of their hand allowed Lynette to rest comfortably, and to space out to her heart's content.

Arlecchino did the same thing to comfort many of the children at the Hearth.

Yet she didn't know what to do when S/O did the same, feeling her hair slightly ruffled.

If her S/O was taller (in which case "Dude, you look huge"), she really wouldn't comment on the height difference, but if they were shorter, THEN she'd be surprised they would even attempt it.

Arlecchino doesn't care if it's in private or public, but she would care if they did so in front of her kids.

Because then they'd see that she has someone that can make her comfortable too, which in turn makes them happy.

Seeing their father cared for puts them at ease, making Arlecchino thankful in her own way.

But as for the action itself: she would just talk to them in her usual tone, though with a bit of a "threat" lying underneath.

(Arlecchino) "Did you wish for me to pat your head too, S/O? I might be rougher with you than the others."

Chiori raises an eyerbrow.

(Chiori) "S/O, what are you doing?"

Once they explain themselves, Chiori can't help roll her eyes.

(Chiori) "Did you expect me to get all flustered from that? Psh, it'll take a little more than messing up my hair to do that. Speaking of which, can you fix it for me? I'm a little busy here."

She finds it cute, yeah, but it's not that big of a deal.

Plus, she finds it weird.

Who just goes around, patting their girlfriends' heads unprompted?

Oh well, it's not like this was particularly harmful, so Chiori lets it slide.

But if they do that in front of customers or in public, S/O is dead.

Lumine's body stiffens when S/O's hand ruffles her hair lovingly, before she quickly giggles.

(Lumine) "Hey, stand still!"

She quickly does the same back, though her retaliation is far more playful and destructive.

S/O's hair is an absolute mess now, Lumine giving a cheeky grin back.

(Lumine) "There, now you look better than before!"

It does not take long for the situation to quickly devolve into a tickle fight with both of them on the bed laughing.

Jean takes a moment to register what S/O is doing, but after a few seconds she smiles.

Jean lets her shoulders drop, feeling more at ease by the second.

So this is how Barbara and Klee felt when she did the same.

(Jean) "Your hand feels quite nice, S/O..."

She doesn't realize her own flushed cheeks as her vision becomes slightly hazed with her affection.

If anything, she feels a little sad everytime they pull back.

It was such a relaxing sensation, and honestly made her feel a little sleepy.

Eula's head feels a bit colder to the touch, but her body is rapidly heating up, especially her face.

(Eula) "What do you think you're doing, S/O?"

Hearing their answer, Eula pauses for a moment before responding.

(Eula) "Next time, you should ask for permission instead of rubbing my hair like I'm some sort of child...I don't recall asking you to stop either."

In classic Eula fashion, she doesn't tell them directly that she loves the feeling of their hands.

But she'd be damned if she was going to admit something so embarrassing.

Noelle feels a mixture of pride and embarrassment everytime S/O pats her on the head.

On one hand it felt quite nice, and the gesture was very sweet!

But it made her feel a little childish.

She never voiced her latter feelings aloud, because it still made her flustered all the same.

(Noelle) "A-Ah...Um, thank you, S/O...!"

It made her want to do her best everytime just so she could receive such affection, and made sure to do it back to them!

But with her strength, she accidentally completely dishevels their hair.

Before promptly fixing it in nearly an instant with her skills as a dutiful maid!

Ayaka exhales deeply, any words she had completely fading away in bliss.

These were the kinds of moments Ayaka longed for, to simply share affection with a lover of her own.

It made her feel quite normal as opposed to the prim and proper noblewoman she was forced to be.

(Ayaka) "If I may be selfish for a moment, might I ask for you to continue...?"

She'd be a little embarrassed asking for more, but her shame vanishes the moment she feels their hand on her head again.

Ayaka is too shy to initiate the headpatting on her own, most of the time having her hand almost reach her S/O's head before pulling away last second.

Sara flinches and leans away from S/O on instinct.

(Sara) "What are you-...M-My apologies, I was just not expecting you to..."

Her hand fidgets for a moment before Sara lets out a sigh.

(Sara) "If you wanted to touch my hair, you can just ask."

Now that she was actually ready for S/O, she enjoyed the feeling of their fingers brushing against her hair.

It was relaxing as she let down her guard and enjoyed the physical affection.

Needless to say, Sara absolutely did not want S/O to do this in public.

Seeing Inazuma's general get pat on the head so lovingly would obliterate her image.

Yae smirks as she leans her head closer to them, not saying a word at first.

Her ears twitch for just a moment as she opens her mouth to speak.

(Yae) "Well, does my hair feel nice, S/O?"

And before S/O knows it, her tail wrapped around their waist before bringing them closer and her the back of her head is resting on their lap.

Yae's hand waves nonchalantly, and her tone growing increasingly ever more teasing.

(Yae) "I expect to be pampered properly, S/O. You can't leave a job half-finished after all!"

Now, Yae expects S/O to tend to her hair, in public or private, she doesn't really care.

As long as there were some good reactions from S/O both was fine, though in public tended to provide the funniest result.

...Oh, and their hands did feel nice. But she'd figure it'd be more entertaining to let S/O figure that one out themselves.

Shenhe knows this feeling well.

Cloud Retainer did the same thing whenever she meant to comfort her.

And of course, the feeling is much of the same when S/O does it to her.

WIth zero shame or hesitation, she closes her eyes and the corners of her lips grow into some semblance of a smile.

(Shenhe) "Your hands are soft, S/O...They feel good."

Instead of leaning into them, she grabs their entire arm and has their hand stay stuck in place.

But Shenhe is careful enough to not hurt them during the process.

She opens her eyes and calmly asks them:

(Shenhe) "Can you keep your hand in place for a little longer?"

Xianyun had provided much of the same comfort to all her disciples before.

But never has anyone attempted to pat her head.

So when she feels S/O's hands do the same motion, she is stunned for a few moments.

Clearing her throat and adjusting her glasses, she puts on the best poker face she can.

(Xianyun) "W-Why did you feel the need to rub One's head, One is not feeling upset."

...The blush on her cheeks gave her feelings completely away, if the stutter didn't already do that.

Xianyun is far too proud to admit that headpat made her heart skip, and she would refuse to ever do so.

A mortal patting an Adeptus' head? Absolutely ridiculous!

...She wanted S/O to do that again.

[ccl-c]

i procrastinated on this for months and it didn't even take that long to finish lol things got very bad at work this year and i just didn't have the energy but i'm really happy with how it turned out!

(edit: thank you so much to everyone enjoying this piece! i'm so happy there are more people thinking about his prosthetic leg.)

some of my favourite details and long self-indulgent ramble below the cut.

as much as i love the unicorn leg in the show i really wish they gave izzy an actual post-amputation swordfight scene, which probably would imply a more practical prosthesis because honestly that candle scene looks very painful and pretty difficult to adapt in combat. so basically i wanted him to have a prosthesis that could work.

for the poses i mostly just took basic right-handed cavalry sabre movements that would need lots of force and/or mobility from the left leg (actually all of them do otherwise he'd lose stability which is a big no but well i did not consider the basic steps or special ones such as the palestra because they're not very clear to draw. i included a flèche though because i just really, really want to see him do flèches (no more modern competition rules aha!!); i doubt he'd like it since it's very risky but it would be so fucking awesome. imagine him just darting full-speed at the opponent and passing through them sliding the sabre right between their ribs. the sabre isn't a pointy weapon especially since his is quite curved which makes precise piercing trickier (it would be a lot easier with a rapier or an épée; i like to imagine that stede prefers the rapier and makes every opponent who believes rapiers aren't fit for combat reconsider it) but hell that would just look amazing. although looking at it again i probably drew it more like a pass forward …). now thinking about it i should have included a salute because he'd absolutely do that and make everyone do it in unison at the start of training sessions and it's just a cool series of gestures (i haven't gone through the historical documents yet but the salute our historic fencing club do consists of two appels (striking the ground with the forward foot which in izzy's case is the right foot), then raising the sword to the sky, then pulling the guard of the sword near the jaw with the tip pointing upwards, then pointing the sword down forward, usually a bit to the exterior for single-handed swords, and i think that's the french navy's salute if i remember correctly). also i feel like the dagger doesn't really look right ever since i saw the daggers and little swords at the exhibition about knights in nantes … anyway.

the prosthesis is loosely based on those 16th-century moveable leg prostheses by ambroise paré (on a side note, he made hand prostheses too and i think it's a good reference for spanish jackie's hand), douglas bly's above-knee prosthesis in the 19th century and modern running prosthetic legs (for the need of explosive force typically in lunges) as well as historic fencing and buhurt (full-armour medieval combat) gears. although i'm horrible at physics and have forgotten what little ergonomics i learned at university so it probably won't work in reality lol.

the text is in french simply because i learned fencing in french and didn't want to make mistakes in the vocabulary. the small words from left to right top to bottom are: motion (movement?), knee (front), knee (back), ankle & foot, locked, flèche (as in fencing; the word itself means “arrow”), unlocked (middle french spelling because i like it), lunge, en garde position in tierce (i somehow can't find any fixed way to say this in english; it's just the basic stance with the third hand position). the text on the left is probably quite awkward honestly but i can't not put it there because it's fun lol it reads “leg and foot prosthesis designed for first mate hands, by doctor roach with the assistance of frenchie, realised (built? made? constructed? manufactured?) by black pete and wee john feeney and the entirety of the crew of the revenge under co-captains stede bonnet and edward teach, illustrated by lucius spriggs”. so yes any mistake in there is theirs and not mine lmao (no). the font is very loosely based on my memory of jean jannon's regular and italic typefaces. i adore his italics; it's the prettiest, most delicate italics i've ever seen.

i still have other drawing ideas for ofmd but i'm also into a lot of other things now … i'll probably get to them a few months later.

[tsxkkis]

# tsukishima kei - perfect match

a/n: watch me suddenly appear out of nowhere after the school year has finally ended to post something!! i'm sure absolutely no one is surprised that tsukishima is the centre of this fic, but tbh idk how to feel about it (it's definitely longer than my usual ones but i didn't proofread it, so idk if the lenght is an advantage or not) but i hope you'll like it ^^ with school being over for the next two months i'll finally have time to write, so expect more works soon!!

summary: you and tsukishima decide to help your friends get together, but the plan is long forgotten when you realize what your own feelings are.

warnings: nothing really, canon yamayachi (my loves), some light swearing, bad writing

tsukishima kei did not expect any of his friends to bother him in the middle of the night. hell, he didn't even expect any of them to disturb his alone time at all. and yet at exactly 2.34 in the morning, right as he was about to turn off his currently binge watched tv show and go to sleep, he felt his phone buzzing on the nightstand. 

his eyes focused on your name, written in white font on his phone screen, surely shocked by the sight.

'why are you calling me at 2 in the goddamn morni-'

'is yamaguchi interested in anyone?'

your question caught him off-guard even more than the call itself, his brows furrowing in a weirded-out look. 

'if you're asking for yourself, i'm positive that he is not interested.' 

tsukishima heard a sigh of annoyance on the other side of the call and could only imagine the exact look on your face in this very moment. 

'well, thank god, because i'm not asking for myself.' you said. there were muffled sounds of someone preparing food in the background. 'i'm asking for yachi.'

the blonde boy smiled unconsciously.

'he does like her.' the boy stated, turning off his laptop as he put it back on the desk. 'so much so, in fact, that it can be kind of annoying sometimes.'

you squealed with excitement, a giggle leaving your mouth at tsukishima's remark. 

'perfect! now, listen carefully.'

that singular phone call created an alliance between you and kei. an alliance with only one goal; getting your two best friends to finally confess to each other. to both of you, it was almost infuriating how blind they were; how they didn't notice just how obvious it was that they both shared the same feeling. constant blushing at as little as a mention of the other's name, the stolen glances, the very obvious pining - all of it seemed to be non-existent in the eyes of both yamaguchi and yachi.

but lucky for them, you had a plan.

his eyes lingered on you for a few seconds, as if awaiting a sign from you. tsukishima still thought of your 'master plan' as rather silly, but seeing the determination on your face, and the frown that appeared when he called your idea stupid was enough for him to sigh and go with it this once.

the four of you were currently occupied with studying for a math test coming up next week, everyone nose deep in their notebooks. well, everyone except for kei.

the boy cleared his throat almost theatrically, drawing the attention of the three of you.

'yamaguchi, i think i'll have to pass on the movies this weekend.' he said, the tone of his voice as lifeless as ever. 'akiteru insisted that i go to one of his games, so i guess you'll have to take someone else.'

the freckled boy looked a little troubled upon hearing the information. both you and tsukishima were well aware that the tickets to the cinema were already paid for; yamaguchi would definitely be sad if it all went to waste. 

'well, i guess i can ask hina-'

'yachi, didn't you tell me last week that you wanted to go to the movies with someone?' you barged in before the boy could even finish his sentence, your friend freezing in her spot at the mention of a conversation you had not that long ago, cheeks flushed pink at the mere thought of going somewhere with yamaguchi one-on-one. 'maybe you'd fill in for tsukki?' 

the girl glanced at you, panic in her eyes as an awkward silence filled the room, everyone waiting for her to answer. you gave her an encouraging smile, as if trying to non-verbally tell her to go for it, to use this as a chance to get closer to the boy she liked for so long. 

'if yamaguchi doesn't mind...' she mumbled quietly, head turning to face the boy who was already shaking his head. 

'of course i don't.' yamaguchi smiled, his small dimples showing up in the process. 

you glanced over to look at tsukishima, a triumphant smile on your face as if you just won a volleyball tournament. his hair was slightly messy, and his glasses were sliding off his nose, two of the top buttons on his school uniform unbuttoned, showing a bit of his collarbones. surprisingly enough, the blonde boy smiled back; a small, quick smile that your eyes barely noticed. you had no idea what it was, but something about that singular smile made your heart beat faster. 

don't. the main focus of this entire thing is to get yachi and yamaguchi together. not to think of tsukishima and how attractive he looks- 

shit.

developing a crush on tsukishima kei was certainly not part of your plan. 

at first, you tried ignoring it as much as you could, focusing solely on your friends and getting them to date. as time went on and yamaguchi and yachi started getting closer, you almost felt a sense of relief - you could finally stop spending so much time around tsukishima, which made your chances of getting over your stupid crush higher. 

but it wasn't as easy as you thought. tsukishima was intelligent, pretty, and his snarky remarks and judgy personality actually drew you to him even more with each passing day. through the countless conversations and numerous phone calls, he proved himself to be more than just a salty, mean guy that everyone viewed him as.

'soon enough, they won't even need our help.' you mumbled to yourself as you opened your bento box, a smile on your face as you noticed your mom homemade onigiri inside. 'i don't know what i'll do with myself then.'

tsukishima scoffed, closing the textbook in front of him.

'maybe start focusing on your own love life for once.'

'hey! it's not my fault that i'm a good friend.' you stated, mouth full of food, as you looked up at your friend sitting on the opposite side of the table, looking through the tasks assigned for next week. 'besides, it's not like i'm the only one.'

tsukishima adjusted his glasses, looking up at you for a mere second before focusing back on his notebook.

'touché.'

'oh, come on.' you whined out, dissatisfied with the lack of response from the blonde boy. 'you won't miss this even a little bit?'

alright, maybe just a bit-

'no.' tsukishima stated firmly, fixing his posture as he highlighted one of the important sentences written down. you heard a bit of hesitation in his voice, and the few seconds of silence before hearing an answer couldn't help but make you wonder. you decided to ignore it this time - he was focused on something else right now, there was no need to disturb him. 

'do you think yachi will like my outfit?'

tsukishima was sitting at the edge of his best friend's bed, mindlessly scrolling through his phone and occasionally looking up to see the twelfth - no, thirteenth shirt that yamaguchi has tried on already. the boy sighed, turning his device off. 

'it's your first official date, i'm sure she doesn't mind what you wear.' he stated, gaining a frown from yamaguchi.

'you didn't answer my question.'

'alright, i think she'll like it.' the blonde haired boy said, reaching out for a bag of chips, opening it with a loud sound. 'but i'm sure she'll focus more on the date itself rather than what you're wearing.'

ever since announcing to their friends that they're going on their first official date, both yamaguchi and yachi were full of stress, constantly overthinking every little detail from their outfit to whether or not the date will go well or not. tsukishima found it rather comical - it was only a date after all. why stress over it so much? he never went on one, obviously, but he always thought that when the day came, he'd approach it calmly.

'do you have any tips on how to not freak out?' yamaguchi asked suddenly, catching his friend off-guard. 'during the date, i mean.'

'how can i know? i've never gone on one.'

the freckled boy looked at tsukishima, a confused expression on his face as he processed his words.

'oh.' he paused for a second, his voice quieter when he continued speaking. 'i thought you and y/n were, you know, a thing.'

huh?

to say tsukishima was shocked was an understatement. he genuinely had no idea what to say; he never even let a thought of you and him being more than friends, 'partners in crime', as you loved to say, slip through his mind. never did it occur to him that someone from the outside would see your relationship as being something more than a merely platonic one. 

well, maybe there was something to it after all. 

yamaguchi's words made him wonder - although he did find you annoying at times, it was only occasionally and to a very little degree. that in itself was very rare in tsukishima's eyes, as he found most of the people surrounding him at least normally annoying. you, on the other hand, were a completely different case. your jokes, no matter how awkward or downright cringe, made him crack a silent laugh more often than not, and every time he saw you smile, his lips uncontrollably curved up into a small, barely noticeable one themselves. 

'oh, no, absolutely not.' the blonde blurted out after a long minute of silence, the tips of his ears turning a bright shade of red. 'there is not a single bone in my body that would want to date her. now get up idiot, or you'll be late to your date.'

the moment tsukishima opened his bedroom, after walking his friend to the bus stop, he immediately plopped down on his bed, phone in hand, instinctively opening messages to write to you. surprisingly enough, a message was already waiting for him.

'yachi almost cried because of how stressed she is T-T'

'do you think we should spy on them to make sure it all goes well?'

he found himself smiling at the words on his phone screen, quickly typing back an answer. 

'do you really not have a life of your own?'

'idiot.'

only after a few minutes did he get a response from you.

'can i come over?? i'm bored :33'

a harmless message, one might think. in reality, tsukishima was freaking out at the mere thought of hanging out with you for a reason other than setting up your friends, his cheeks a light shade of pink as his eyes kept digging a hole through his phone. 

you weren't any better than him - hands slightly shaky as you awaited a response for what felt like hours, but was actually just a few minutes. you had no idea what took over you; was it a sudden wave of bravery or rather an idiotic spontaneous choice to ask tsukishima that. but nonetheless, when you finally got the response, you felt ecstatic.

'alright.'

'bring some snacks.'

'kei, i think yamaguchi is he- oh, that's certainly a new face.'

you stood in front of the door with an awkward smile, facing tsukishima's older brother, akiteru, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. to say he was surprised was an understatement - he looked as if he'd seen a ghost. as if a friend that's not yamaguchi coming over to tsukishima's house was so out of the ordinary that it could become a national holiday. 

'come in.' the younger male appeared in the back of the hall, an oversized dinosaur shirt and shorts on. his expression was softer than usual; not until he looked at his brother, whom he gave a sharp stare, signaling him to let you inside and don't make such a fuss about it. 

you sat down on his bed, awkward silence filling up the room. not wanting to make the conversation about your friends as per usual, you slowly realized you don't know what to talk about, trying to think of something, anything, as you began unpacking your bag filled with snacks. 

surprisingly enough, it was tsukishima who spoke up first. 

'wanna watch a movie?' he asked, opening his drawer to pull out two bottles of soda, hidden there so that his brother doesn't devour all of them. 'unless it'll make you even more bored than you were before.'

'well, if you have a boring taste in movies-' 

'says the one who looks like their favorite movie is mamma mia.' tsukishima scoffed under his breath, turning his laptop on and starting to search up movies. you looked at him, a dramatic expression as you pretended to be offended. 

'and you look like you're about to mansplain the godfather to me.' 

a short silence filled the room before you heard the blonde boy let out a short, muffled laugh at your comment. 

'you couldn't be more wrong.' he sat down next to you, a small smile still on his face. 'i found it kind of boring, actually.'

'what do you like, then?'

'horror movies.' tsukishima stated, eyes focused on the screen. 'but tadashi gets easily scared, so i often don't have a chance to watch them.'

'same with me and yachi.' you said, unconsciously scooping a bit closer to the boy as you tried to get a better look at what he was searching up. 'i love them, but yachi jumps at every small scare on the screen. sometimes, she even gets scared when there's nothing happening at all.'

'they really do match each other.' he mumbled, putting the laptop on the bed as he pressed play on a movie he chose. his eyes quickly glanced your way to get a nod of approval on his choice.

'yeah, they do.'

and we could, too.

'are you and tsukishima dating?'

you almost spat out your drink, the words coming out of hinata's mouth catching you so off-guard you were close to choking. 

the three of you, along with kageyama, were currently cleaning up after volleyball practice, the boys racing on who would clean more balls off of the floor.

'no, we're not.' you said in a clearly sad tone with an obvious hint of dissatisfaction in your voice. 'what the hell made you think that way?'

the orange haired boy stopped in his tracks, his signature smile disappearing for a minute as he got lost in his own thoughts. 

'oh! i remember now.' he said after a short while, his grin coming back. 'yamaguchi told me that you two are close.'

'he did also mention that he seems happier around you.' kageyama added, joining the conversation. 'seeing tsukishima happy must be pretty scary.'

not really, you thought. but at the same time, what confused you more was what kageyama said right before. 

he seems happier around you.

yamaguchi has been kei's friend for the longest time, so any of his observations must be true, or at least that's what you liked to believe. but would that mean that tsukishima kei, the salty, closed-off guy whom everyone finds intimidating could possibly like you? was there truly a possibility that he enjoyed spending time with you? 

as you finished cleaning up the hall, saying your goodbyes to your two friends who ran off to practice volleyball somewhere else, a familiar, tall figure appeared in the doorframe, sharp eyes staring at you with an expression that you couldn't exactly decipher. 

'want me to walk you home?' he asked, hands in his pockets. 'it's getting late.'

you looked at him, trying to hide the blush creeping up onto your cheeks before quickly nodding as an answer.

'sure, let's go.'

most of the walk was filled with silence on both parts, exactly as you expected. even though it might've felt awkward for some, you did enjoy his presence in itself enough that a conversation wasn't necessary. 

the boy stopped in his tracks mid-way, reaching into his backpack and pulling out his phone and an old pair of white, wired earphones, showing them to you as a silent question of whether you wanted to listen to music with him or not. you agreed without a second thought, a small smile on your face as he put on one of his playlists. 

'i really like this song.' you mumbled, eyes lighting up upon hearing the familiar melody. with both of you wearing the same set of headphones right now, you were practically forced to walk closer to each other - hands constantly brushing against one another, a faint blush on your face as you tried to ignore it and focus on the music. 

tsukishima, on the other hand, couldn't shake away the thoughts roaming around his head. he felt as if what he was doing now was incredibly unlike him; and maybe it was. but for some reason, he didn't mind being like this around you. less cocky, sarcastic, mean and more... gentle.

he could feel his fingers brushing against yours from time to time, and it drove him crazy. should he go for it and play it off nonchalantly, or just ignore it? should he even make the first move or wait for you to do it?

before he was able to decide, tsukishima felt your hand reaching for his, heart rate immediately speeding up as your fingers shyly intertwined with his, looking the other way to hide your anxious expression.

his hand was much bigger than yours, but somehow it fit perfectly with yours. as if they were created solely to hold one another and nothing else. the plan to get your friends to be together was long forgotten by now - your mind was clouded with thoughts of tsukishima only, and little did you know that his wasn't any different. 

you glanced his way only to find his eyes already on you, hiding his true feelings behind a nonchalant look. only now did you notice that the two of you were standing in front of your house, the boy adjusting his glasses as he waited to see what you'll do next. 

'i guess i should go home now.' you mumbled, but you still didn't move an inch, hand not leaving his. 'see you tomorrow?'

his hand squeezed yours tightly before taking it away, an unusually warm and welcoming smile on his face. 

'sure. see you tomorrow, idiot.'

but as you slowly made your way towards the door, tsukishima couldn't shake away the feeling in him, telling him to go for it. and as much as he tried to resist it, he just couldn't anymore. 

'wait.’

before you could fully turn away, tsukishima kei's lips were already on yours, a sweet, long kiss that felt as if he was waiting to do it for years. his hand traveled to your waist and it didn't take long for you to react; lips moving swiftly with his, noses bumping into one another before you pulled away, a giggle escaping your mouth as you saw just how red tsukishima's face was.

‘don't laugh at me, moron.’ he said, immediately catching the reason for your laughter as he flicked you in the forehead. ‘your whole face is red, too.’

‘i didn't expect you to do this.’ you mumbled, eyes focused on his as you reached to hold his hand again. ‘didn't expect my feelings to be mutual, either.’

‘i'm glad we feel the same.’ his face leaned in closer to yours, a wave of confidence taking over him as he placed a short kiss on your forehead. ‘but i would still prefer to properly ask you out. if you'd say yes, that is.’ 

‘of course i would.’ you smiled, ‘i'd be stupid not to.’

‘should we bet on how long it takes the others to realize we're dating now?’ tsukishima smiled at you, eyes not leaving yours for even a spare second. you laughed at his idea, giving his hand a squeeze. 

‘get ready to lose, kei.’

‘you wish.’

taglist: @moonswolfie

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 this is awkward..

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, you were fed up with James, deciding to put aside your pettiness you drag him away from the gryffindor party to talk to him.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), r and james speaking is 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓵𝔂 inspired by gilbert confessing that he wants anne so effing bad bc he 𝓯𝔀 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝔂, lowkey dont hate me for making the “dreams” u want so like…. I just didn't know what to do bc like idk smh i set back women 50 years by that

a/n: tysm for all the love on this series!! y’all are NOT ready for the next chapter, writing it rn and 😭🙏 BUTTT tysm for 300🫶🫶 also I finished the last chapter... do y'all want me to post it today or edge y'all and post it tomorrow

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

It was now nearing the end of the school year—even if there was still a month to go. James could now be in the same room as you without glaring daggers at whoever you were talking to. Though he told himself he was over you, he knew deep down that the feelings never faded.

He told himself it didn’t matter. He told himself he was fine. And yet, every time he caught sight of you, every time your laughter reached his ears from across the room, it was as if someone had set fire to his resolve.

He wanted to talk to you so badly it was almost pathetic. But it was like the universe itself was conspiring against him—or, more specifically, like Finn Laurier had developed some sort of sixth sense for James’s intentions.

Because every single time James gathered enough courage, every time he braced himself to walk over to you, Finn would appear out of nowhere. Whether it was in the Great Hall, the library, or even during Quidditch practice, Finn always seemed to materialize by your side at precisely the wrong moment, stealing away your attention and leaving James feeling like the outsider in his own story.

It was infuriating.

“Mate, you’re grinding your teeth,” Sirius remarked casually one afternoon as they sat under the beech tree by the lake.

James startled, realizing with some embarrassment that Sirius was right. He quickly unclenched his jaw and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Sorry,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m just…”

“Just what?” Sirius prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” James lied, though his voice betrayed him.

Sirius gave him a knowing look. “If this is about her again, just—”

“It’s not about her,” James interrupted quickly, though he winced as the words left his mouth. He knew Sirius wouldn’t believe him, and he wasn’t sure he even believed himself anymore.

Sirius sighed, shaking his head. “Prongs, you’re going to drive yourself mad if you keep this up. Just talk to her already.”

“I’ve tried!” James snapped, louder than he intended. He lowered his voice and added, “I’ve tried, but every bloody time, Finn shows up. It’s like he’s got a bloody tracker on her or something.”

Remus, who had been quietly reading nearby, finally chimed in. “You know, maybe you’re overthinking this,” he said, not looking up from his book.

“How could I possibly be overthinking this?” James demanded, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Maybe Finn’s not doing it on purpose,” Remus suggested calmly. “Maybe it’s just bad timing.”

“Bad timing?” James repeated incredulously. “Bad timing doesn’t happen this often, Moony. This is a pattern.”

Remus gave him a skeptical look but didn’t argue further.

James leaned back against the tree trunk, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath. He hated how much this was bothering him. He hated how much control this entire situation had over him.

But most of all, he hated the thought that you might actually be happy with Finn.

It wasn’t that he thought Finn was a bad guy—quite the opposite, really. Finn was charming, talented, and annoyingly good at everything he did. He was the kind of guy parents adored, the kind of guy professors went out of their way to praise. And worst of all, he was the kind of guy who could make you smile in a way James had only dreamed of.

James opened his eyes, staring up at the branches overhead. “Maybe I should just give up,” he muttered.

Sirius snorted. “Yeah, right. That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve said all day.”

“I’m serious,” James insisted.

“No, I’m Sirius,” Sirius quipped, smirking.

James groaned, throwing a small pebble in his direction. “Not the time for jokes.”

“Fine, fine,” Sirius said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But seriously, you’re not giving up. You’re James Potter, remember? Stubborn, arrogant, never-takes-no-for-an-answer James Potter. You don’t give up on things you care about.”

James hesitated, staring at the rippling water of the Black Lake. He wanted to believe Sirius. He wanted to believe that there was still a chance, that you weren’t as far out of reach as you seemed.

But as he watched you across the courtyard later that day, standing beside Finn and laughing at something he said, James couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, it was too late.

But his doubt soon melted into something far more unsettling when he noticed your gaze shift. For the first time in what felt like forever, your attention wasn’t on Finn Laurier—it was on him.

James felt like he might throw up.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and his hands fidgeted with the hem of his robes as he quickly looked away. In fact, he didn’t just look away; he turned his entire body in the opposite direction, hoping to mask the flush rising to his cheeks.

“C’mon, James, you’ve got a Quidditch game to win today! Channel all that anger you’ve got towards Laurier into winning us the Cup!” Sirius said, clapping a hand on James’s shoulder with his trademark grin.

James gave a faint nod, trying to let Sirius’s words sink in. He wasn’t sure if it would work, but he had to admit—focusing on Quidditch might be better than brooding.

As the match began, Sirius’s advice started to help. Flying through the air, the roar of the crowd, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins almost made him forget the mess he was tangled in. Quidditch always had a way of making the weight on his shoulders feel lighter.

Almost.

At first, he wasn’t paying much attention to the game. His mind wandered back to you, back to everything that had gone wrong. He thought about what he would say, how he could even begin to fix things. And, like always, he couldn’t resist scanning the crowd for you.

Even in the middle of a fight, even when he swore to himself that he was done, James always looked for you in the stands.

And he found you—right where he didn’t want to.

You were sitting with Finn Laurier, your hand clasped in his. James’s stomach twisted painfully at the sight, and he forced himself to look away, though the image burned into his mind.

Of course. Finn fucking Laurier.

He sighed, his grip tightening on his broomstick. There was no point in hoping anymore. Whatever chance he’d had—if he’d ever had one—was gone now. Maybe he’d already been downgraded in your life: a friend at best, a stranger at worst. The thought stung, and James shoved it down, refusing to dwell on it any longer.

And then, something golden caught the corner of his eye.

The Snitch.

For the first time all game, James’s focus snapped into place. He leaned forward on his broom, his heart pounding—not from heartbreak this time, but from the sheer rush of competition. If nothing else, he could still win this. He could still bring home the Cup.

James shot after the Snitch with everything he had, the rush of wind against his face only fueling his determination. The crowd roared, but their voices blurred into the background. His world narrowed to one thing: the golden glimmer darting just ahead.

The Hufflepuff Seeker was hot on his trail, but James barely registered them. This was his moment. The Snitch veered sharply to the right, and James followed, his reflexes razor-sharp. He could feel the weight of his emotions—anger, heartbreak, frustration—all pouring into this chase.

The Snitch dipped low, skimming just above the grass, and James dove after it, his fingers outstretched. The Hufflepuff Seeker was closing in fast, but James didn’t care. He pushed his broom harder, faster, his body leaning forward so much it felt like he might fall off.

And then, his fingers closed around the Snitch.

The Gryffindor stands erupted into cheers, deafening and jubilant. The sound echoed across the pitch as James pulled up, the Snitch held high in triumph. For the first time all week, a genuine smile broke across his face.

He’d done it.

Back on the ground, his teammates swarmed him, yelling and celebrating as they lifted him off the ground in a flurry of hugs and pats on the back. Sirius was the loudest, of course, laughing as he shouted, “That’s my best mate! Did you see that dive? Bloody brilliant!”

James grinned, allowing himself to soak in the moment. But as the initial adrenaline rush faded, his thoughts drifted back to you.

Through the crowd, he spotted you walking toward the castle with Laurier. You looked happy—laughing at something Finn said, your hand still in his.

James’s chest tightened, the pain creeping back in.

Sirius slung an arm around his shoulders. “Oi, don’t let that git ruin your moment. You just won us the Cup, Prongs. Focus on that, yeah?”

James forced a nod, plastering a smile on his face. “Yeah. You’re right.”

But deep down, as the team carried him back to the common room, the ache lingered. Winning the match had been a distraction, but it wasn’t enough to erase what he felt for you—or the sting of seeing you with someone else.

Still, James promised himself one thing: he’d get through this. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. And who knew? Maybe, someday, you’d see him the way he saw you.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

The Gryffindor common room was a chaotic blur of red and gold, filled with triumphant cheers and laughter. The moment the team returned from the pitch, the party was already in full swing. Someone had charmed a banner to flash "Gryffindor Wins the Cup!" in shimmering letters, and butterbeer bottles floated around the room, courtesy of a cheeky charm from Sirius.

James stood in the center of it all, grinning as his teammates and housemates patted him on the back and congratulated him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to bask in the glory of the victory, letting it drown out the knot in his chest. He’d won the game, and Gryffindor had the Cup—he deserved to enjoy it.

“Prongs!” Sirius yelled over the noise, shoving a butterbeer into his hand. “You’re the man of the hour! You better milk this for all it’s worth, because Merlin knows you deserve it.”

James laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t let me hear you say that too often, Padfoot. I might start believing it.”

Sirius gave him a devilish grin. “Oh, you will. Now, c’mon, let’s make some noise!” He climbed onto a table, raising his bottle high. “To Prongs, our Quidditch hero!”

The room erupted in cheers, and James couldn’t help but laugh, taking a sip of his butterbeer as the noise washed over him. For the first time all day, he felt lighter.

As the party went on, James moved through the crowd, chatting and laughing with his housemates. But no matter how loud the celebration got, his eyes kept drifting to the door, half-hoping, half-dreading to see you walk in.

And then, you did.

James froze mid-conversation, his heart doing that familiar stutter-step it always did when he saw you. You looked radiant, wrapped in Gryffindor colors, your cheeks flushed from the cold. But his chest tightened when he noticed Laurier trailing behind you, his hand resting casually on the small of your back.

James quickly turned back to his conversation, forcing a smile and pretending not to notice. He wasn’t going to let Finn Laurier—or his own stupid feelings—ruin the night.

“Oi, Prongs,” Sirius said, appearing at his side again. “Stop moping and do something fun. We just won the bloody Cup, mate! At least pretend you’re having the time of your life.”

James forced another grin. “I am having fun, Padfoot. Loads of fun.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “You’re staring at her again, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” James lied, taking a long sip of butterbeer.

Sirius groaned, grabbing James by the shoulders. “Look, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to stop torturing yourself, and you’re going to have a bloody fantastic time tonight. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll prank Laurier so hard he won’t know which way is up. Deal?”

James couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head. “Alright, deal.”

Hours later, the party was still going strong. Someone had turned the music up, and the common room had transformed into a dance floor. James found himself dragged into the middle of it by Lily Evans, who gave him a pointed look.

“Stop sulking, Potter,” she said, smirking. “You just won the Cup. Act like it.”

“I’m not sulking,” James said, though his half-hearted smile gave him away.

Lily raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, she tugged him into the rhythm of the music, and for a while, James let himself get lost in the moment.

It wasn’t until he caught sight of you again, laughing at something Laurier said, that the knot in his chest returned. He took a deep breath, plastered on another smile, and decided that, for tonight, he’d keep pretending.

He watched you from across the room as you and Laurier continued talking, laughter bubbling between you two. He could see the way you looked at him now—so different from the way you looked at him before. It was like there was a barrier, a wall that hadn’t been there when he first met you.

“Prongs,” Sirius appeared at his side again, his voice low and concerned. “Look, I know you’ve been through a lot, but this is ridiculous. You’re letting Laurier ruin your night—and you just won us the Cup, for Merlin’s sake. You’re allowed to be happy tonight. So go talk to her. If you don’t, I swear I’ll do it for you.”

James frowned at him, irritated. “I’m not talking to her, Pads. Not now.”

“Then at least get out of here and enjoy yourself,” Sirius pressed. “We’re celebrating, mate. You’ve earned it.”

James looked over at you one more time, and for a second, he almost gave in. But the knot in his chest was still there, tightly wound, and it made everything feel so much harder than it should’ve been.

But maybe... maybe he could find a way to feel better. Maybe he could lose himself in the celebration.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally muttered, glancing at his friends.

Sirius didn’t seem convinced but let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, but I’m not letting you go off and brood in some corner. The whole bloody school’s celebrating with you tonight.”

James smirked faintly, feeling a little lighter. Maybe he could pretend to be okay, at least for tonight. He could let the victory, the laughter, and his friends drown out the ache for just a little while longer.

But as the night continued, and as the music played on, James found himself once again looking toward the doorway, hoping—just hoping—that you’d look his way.

For the first time in forever, the world was finally on his side as he saw you quickly leaving Finn and walking straight to him.

“May I speak to you, please?” James nodded, Dumbfounded. 

You quickly grabbed his hand and went outside the common room and into the corridors. 

You took a deep breath, your fingers twisting nervously. “James… I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now.”

James’s throat went dry, his pulse quickening as he struggled to find his voice. “Yeah?”

You nodded, glancing down at your hands before meeting his gaze. “I—I’m sorry.”

That wasn’t what he had expected. Of all the scenarios he’d played out in his head, an apology hadn’t been one of them.

“For what?” he asked, genuine confusion coloring his voice.

“For everything,” you said in a rush, your words tumbling out before you could stop them. “For avoiding you. I was confused—about what I did that made you ignore me. And I guess I wanted to get back at you for ignoring me, so I decided to do the same to you. And… I’m sorry for whatever happened between us that made things so weird.”

James stared at you, your vulnerability hitting him like a Bludger to the chest. His heart ached at the uncertainty in your voice.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said quickly, shaking his head.

“Yes, I do,” you insisted, your voice firm despite the tears welling in your eyes.

“No, you don’t,” James countered, his tone soft yet resolute. “It’s not fair to put all of this on yourself. You’ve always been there for me, and I—well, I’ve been a terrible friend lately. I was practically acting like you didn’t exist.”

James faltered when he saw the blank expression on your face. Panic flickered in his chest—had he said too much?

But before he could say anything more, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

“Oh, James,” you murmured into his shoulder. “It’s okay. I—I was acting like you didn’t exist too, but only because you were doing it to me.”

He blinked, caught off guard, before slowly relaxing into the hug. He looked down at you, his hand instinctively reaching up to brush away a stray tear trailing down your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You shook your head, a small, watery smile breaking through. “We’re both sorry. Let’s just… not do this anymore, okay?”

James nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Deal.”

“It feels so much better having my best friend around again.” James’ smile faltered again, he never liked the word “best friend” when it came to you, he always wanted more.

“Definitely”

You two let each other talk for what felt like hours even though it was barely fifteen minutes. He enjoyed every second though, until you brought up Finn and future plans they may include him. He couldn't believe it, when had your parents met his? He remembers your dad telling him how much he was rooting you and him to be together, now he's okay with you dating some other dude? And worst of all, your father was okay with that same dude wanting to marry his daughter? James felt like throwing up.

“Then he said that my father laid it out on a silver platter.”

“Laid... what out on a platter?”

“My future! Gave him the blessing to...to propose. I don't know what to do.”

“You told me you don’t mind being married straight after Hogwarts if you truly loved the man. That being a wife and mother... is your dream. Finn is.. nice, and both of your guys’ parents are supportive. I don't understand. What's holding you back?”

“Just… one thing.”

“What am I supposed to do? Everyone else is just... moving on, and now you’re... and I’m still... We never even... And he’s there, and you’re—Merlin, you’re never going to find someone who—” James stopped, his voice cracking. “I know that much, so how... how am I supposed to... I can’t... I— We...”

Before you could speak–a drunk Sirius somehow found you two. “Woah James you're really speaking to her? Atta boy, now, let's get back to the party, cmon, we are going to do something cool, have you heard of ....” Sirius rambled on, tugging on James’ arm to drag him back to the party.

“I’ll be off, then.” You said, voice quivering as if hesitant to leave.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

All James could think about was the previous night—the talk you two had shared. Your words, your voice, the hesitation in your eyes—it all replayed in his mind like a haunting melody. What would’ve happened if Sirius hadn’t barged in, if James had told him to leave, if he’d been brave enough to stay in that moment with you?

“I think…” James began, his voice breaking as he paced the Gryffindor dormitory, “I think she might’ve been asking if I love her. And—and I think I told her to marry someone else.”

Sirius, slouched in the chair by the window, looked stricken. “Mate…” he started, his tone heavy with guilt. “If I’d known—if I knew what was happening—I wouldn’t have gone looking for you. I—I practically ruined your chances. Merlin, I’m so, so sorry.”

James stopped pacing, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t even know if she meant it. She said so much without really saying anything, and now I don’t know if I imagined it all.”

“‘Sure, take option two,’ when option one is all she wants for her future?” James muttered, his voice thick with frustration.

“What is option one?” Peter asked, his curiosity breaking the tension.

James scoffed, bitterness creeping into his tone. “It’s Finn, obviously.” He paused, his anger flaring. “But both their parents support it, and she told me that! Before she spilled all of that on me, we were talking and laughing like nothing was wrong. But now…” He exhaled sharply, his voice softening as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “Now it feels like I’m being asked to explain the rest of my life on a bloody ticking clock. And if I make the wrong decision, I’ve either ruined my life—or hers.”

The room fell silent. Sirius and Peter exchanged uneasy glances, while Remus seemed lost in thought, unsure of how to respond.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Meanwhile, you had confided in your mother about your plans the night before: to finally tell the man you truly loved how you felt. You hadn’t wanted to bring it up while you and James were laughing and enjoying each other’s company, but you knew if you didn’t seize the moment, you’d never say it at all.

What you hadn’t expected was for him to turn you down. To tell you—calmly, almost dismissively—that you should marry Finn.

Your mother was waiting for your response. You knew she expected good news, a letter confirming that you and James were finally together. Instead, you sat at your desk, penning words that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Dear Mother,

I did what you told me to do, but I fear I shouldn’t have. We were talking just fine, and then I told him everything. I told him how I felt. And he told me to marry Finn.

Finn is lovely, yes—but he’s not James. I asked James if there was any chance for us, and he said no. At least now I have clarity on where I stand with him. And I know it sounds awful to compare Finn to James, but... maybe knowing what I know now, I can learn to be happy with Finn. Father and Finn’s family are all thrilled, after all. I don’t even want to think about what I would’ve done if James had said he felt the same.

You sighed, folding the parchment carefully and sealing it in an envelope. The weight of your words sat heavily on your chest, but you couldn’t dwell on them any longer. You needed to send this letter immediately.

Pulling on your cloak, you found yourself heading for one of the secret passages to Hogsmeade—the ones you and James had used so often. The memories stung, but you pushed them aside. This time, you’d be using the passage alone.

The quickest way to deliver your letter was through the owlery. You knew exactly which owl was the fastest.

As you walked, you let your mind wander to James one last time, allowing yourself the quiet ache of what could’ve been. You would never speak to him again, not like before. That part of your life was over.

Finn was your future now. And while it hurt to admit, deep down, you knew it was for the best.

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[gotham-daydreams]

Not Here

[Yandere! Platonic! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of neglect, Mild Yandere Behavior, Batfam being hella stupid.]

(Not really proofread. The birds and bats seeing that y'know- maybe not paying attention to people and neglecting them isn't a good thing. Chaos ensues. More of a development thing. Might be a little ooc?)

Tags: @bigcandlesmolbrain

Chapter 2 of this post. Chapter 3 Pt. 1, Pt. 2. [Series Masterlist]

๑۩۞۩๑—————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

Bruce liked to think he was a good father, for anything that was worth. Or at the very least, a decent one.

He wasn't perfect by any means, but he felt like he raised his children the best he could, and had made them into responsible and diligent adults. Dick was a great example of this, and even if Damian was still growing up, Bruce had hope that he'd turn out to be good as well. The hardships his current Robin had to face would pay off in the end, Bruce was almost too sure of that.

Those he decided to take under his wing had their flaws, yes, but even if he didn't say it out loud or point it out often. He did believe that they were good at what they do, or at least were on the right path to becoming good vigilantes. Bruce couldn't help but be proud and prideful of where his children and sidekicks were, and could only look forward to how they would continue to develop as time went on. Despite their feelings towards him, and his own faults, mistakes, paranoia, and so on. Along with how he felt about them, and their flaws — he couldn't help but respect the people those in his little mess of a family where becoming, and turning out to be.

Or maybe he was both overestimating and underestimating himself, and the true effects he had on those he decided to look after.

Since, for a few days now, he felt like something was... off.

The Manor seemed quieter these days, and even if he couldn't remember a time where it was particularly loud, the detail felt misplaced to him. Sure, he hasn't hosted a gala or party in a while, but that didn't feel like it was the reason why the silence suddenly bothered him.

Bruce tried to think of all possible reasons, a little surprised himself that this feeling of his was bothering him so much, but the more he thought about it the more confused he became. There didn't seem to be a particular reason for this... and yet, just as he was about to put this feeling aside, he heard it.

["I, um, I was just wondering..."]

["Oh, uhh, that's quite alright! Oh, one moment please... oh! Second chorus... T'was brilling, and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wade..."]

It sounded like some sort of... play? Bruce wasn't too sure, but still decided to check it out regardless, wondering why something like that was playing in the first place.

So, allowing the sounds of the play to guide him, he continued on.

["Why- why you're a cat!"]

The voices grew louder as Bruce drew closer, interest peaked as he tried to recall and see of he knew this play. The lines sounding familiar, now that he was really listening to them.

["A Cheshire Cat. All mimsy were the borogoves..."]

Once Bruce rounded the corner he saw a... familiar face on the screen.

A student play was being filmed, and the play itself was Alice in Wonderland.

Whereas Bruce didn't recognize the actor for Alice, he did recognize the actor for the Cheshire Cat, but couldn't quite put his finger on it...

Was... was that...?

"Y/n?" He whispered your name, voice barely above a whisper.

No, it couldn't be. You didn't participate in any plays, and surely if you did he would've known about it. Even then, that didn't explain why he was seeing this now. The play itself had to have been a recording, since you looked so young...

How long ago did this take place?

["Oh, wait! Don't go, please!"]

["Very well. Third chorus..."]

["Oh no, no, no... thank you, but- but I just wanted to ask you which way I ought to go."]

["Well, that depends on where you want to get to."]

["Oh, it really doesn't matter... as long as I g-"]

["Then it really doesn't matter which way you go! Ah-hmm.... and the momeraths outgrabe..."]

Bruce was staring so intensely at the screen that he hardly noticed how the lines and voices faded into the background. His focus centered on you, disbelief gnawing at the back of his head.

He had never seen you smile like that before, not during all the times he's seen you anyway. Even if those moments themselves were small and short from what he could remember, the smile you wore during your performance felt... new in a way. Like something he hadn't seen before — not on your face anyway. Though that wasn't the only thing that made Bruce feel weird as he watched the play.

It wasn't anything to do with your acting skills. They were fine for the most part — and honestly considering the age you probably were during the time of the play, they might've been above average, or even a little higher than that. Not even the girl who played Alice, who also did relatively well, was the source of this odd feeling.

It wasn't the costumes or the set up, or even the lighting, and how he could faintly see the silhouette of other actors and such just behind the curtain, because of the camera angle. No, it hardly had anything to do with anything like that, but, how should he put this...

... How come he didn't know about this? How come he wasn't aware of this play before? Let alone that they had a recording of it, and that you were even a part of it... but Bruce still felt bothered by this whole realization because, well.

Why didn't you tell him about this?

"Master Bruce?"

The sudden voice snapped Bruce out of whatever trance he was stuck in, as he whipped his head around to face the source of it.

He huffed softly, "Oh, hey Alfred." Bruce greeted calmly, acting as if the butler hadn't caught him off guard.

Alred couldn't help but raise a brow at that.

Almost in a silent, embarrassed way, Bruce glanced off to the side only to notice that the recording was still playing, and so he decided to ask about it. Since, if someone knew anything about anyone in this Manor, it would be Alfred.

"Say... what's this playing on the TV?"

"It's a recording of one of Master Y/n's plays, Master Bruce." Alfred answered simply, almost as if it was common knowledge. "Apologies if it's too loud, I decided to play it while cleaning. I can change it or turn it down if you'd like."

"No, no it's fine... but since when has Y/n acted in plays? I don't remember hearing about this." Bruce stated, confusion growing as another emotion began to swell in his chest. One he was all too familiar with, but ignored for the moment.

"Since middle school, if I recall correctly, but it was only while they were younger. Having only been in three school plays in total, I believe." Alfred moved closer to Bruce as he looked at the screen, eyes softening for a moment as he watched you move along the stage. You had grown up so much since then, and the stage fright you used to have felt like nothing more but a faint memory now.

You wouldn't believe how incredibly proud of you he is.

"It's a shame they didn't do any more afterwards, since it would've been nice to have a few more recordings of their performances, but I suppose that's what happens when you find a new passion." He looked back at Bruce. That previous softness in his gaze nowhere to be found.

There was a certain way how his eyes looked at the billionaire, as if expecting something. As if expecting this.

Alfred had higher hopes, but you had left for a reason. Even if he knew what that reason was, it was only now did he see it more clearly. Especially as he witnessed Bruce's face shift into one of shock and surprise.

"They've always told you, Master Bruce, but you're schedule has just always been too full." Alfred handed Bruce a piece of paper, and Bruce took it wordlessly, looking it over.

It was a flyer promoting a play — the Alice in Wonderland play that was still going in the background — with the dates and times listed below, along with some of the cast members. Your name stuck out like a sour thumb compared to the rest.

Bruce did remember seeing this before, but one thing did still confuse him as he looked back at Alfred.

"I'm pretty sure you gave this to me at the time, not Y/n."

"That I did, sir, but that was only because Master Y/n was having some trouble with catching you attention, because they had wanted to give you the flyer themself. So I offered to give it to you for them." Alfred replied truthfully, cleaning up a little more while he was at it, and leaving Bruce to his thoughts for the moment.

He didn't remember you trying to catch his attention... but if what Alfred says is true then that makes sense, even if it made Bruce feel bad in a way. The feeling growing a little more when he realized something Alfred had said.

"And this happened all three times?"

"You sound surprised, Master Bruce."

Bruce ran a hand through his hair, eyes pinned on the flyer as he pressed his pursed into a thin line. Countless thoughts floated around in his head, all of them jumbled up and messy as he just didn't know what to make of this. Missing one was probably fine, and maybe two at a push, but all three? How could he have missed every single one?

Sure he was busy, but he didn't think it was this bad. Did he just forget? How did he not notice such a thing had slipped right past him?

All Bruce could do was sigh. There was nothing he could do about it now, and even if there was a way to make it up to you, he didn't know where to start, or if that would change anything to begin with. Besides, he didn't even know how long it's been since these performances had happened.

...

Wait a minute-

"Alfred, how long ago was this?"

Alfred just looked at Bruce, brows just barely creased before he took a breath of his own.

"A few years ago, sir."

What?

At the look of disbelief on Bruce's face, Alfred could only stand and straighten himself out as he calmly asked, "How old do you think Master Y/n is, sir?"

"Oh, well, they're..."

... Bruce couldn't even think of an answer.

Obviously you had to be in highschool since it had been years since you've performed in a play, with the Alice in Wonderland play being one of them, but how old were you exactly? What year were you in? Were you a sophomore? Junior? Surely you weren't a freshman, but even then — what high school did you even go to? Bruce didn't think you were home schooled, or else he'd definitely notice that... or would he?

Oh no.

What if you already graduated? What if you already had gone and done something that not even Alfred knew about? Did you have a job? Where would you even work? Were you already in college? What college would you even go to? Did you manage to get a scholarship? What would be you major? Where would you be studying? Would you even stay in Gotham? Were you even old enough to be out on your own? Could you even drink yet? Could you drive? Did you own a car? Or even a motor bike? When was your birthday? Did it already pass? What's the month? The day? The year?

How old are you?

"I... I think I'm going to go and just check up on them." Bruce couldn't answer, and while he had a vauge idea. That's all it was, an idea. So he moved the subject along, and made his way up the stairs, leaving Alfred behind. Just watching as the world's greatest detective left the room, all because he couldn't figure out the age of one of his own kids. One he had chosen to take in and watch over like all the rest, and yet left behind all the same in the process.

Alfred could only sigh to himself as he paused the recording of the play. Ejecting the disc and putting it in its respective case, and placing it in its usual spot.

This was the only way, he decided. This was the only way.

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

Bruce didn't feel much better by the time he reached your room. It took him mistakenly stumbling into two guest rooms before he finally reached it, and honestly he felt more regret over that alone.

Most of this time he hardly remembered that the room before him now was even occupied, let alone that you had claimed it as yours. What didn't help was that it was only now that he remembered introducing this space as your own, and yet he had forgotten that small detail so quickly.

Regardless, Bruce just pushed that all to the side as he knocked on the door, taking in a breath.

"Y/n?" He called out, only to get no respose. So he tried knocking again, but he still got nothing.

Sure, he was getting a little confused, but just pushed that to the side with everything else, as he stared down at the door knob.

... Should he?

He had to talk with you eventually, especially considering what he just figured out and how little he actually knew about you. He needed to talk with you. He couldn't just let this slide, not with what he knew now. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

So, be tried the knob, and was kind of surprised that it was unlocked. Though besides that little strange detail, he gently pushed the door open, and took a peak inside.

Oh. You weren't even here...

Bruce didn't know how to feel about that.

Regardless of that, however, he opened up the door a little wider, and stepped inside. What he saw only made him more confused, but also feel so much worse when he looked all over the room. How could this be...?

Various things were on your desk, shelves, and hung on the walls. Your room looked surprisingly clean, but honestly Bruce doesn't know what he was expecting. After all, he didn't even know your exact age or hardly anything about you, and even then — by the looks of things, he had missed out on so much more than he originally thought.

Trophies, awards, medals, and certificates were littered about your room. The very sight of them made the paper in Bruce's hands feel so much heavier, and yet he still held onto it as he further inspected the awards, and few pictures hung on your walls.

Every color was here, from bronze to silver to gold, and at some point it seemed you were able to get a consistent amount of silvers and gold. The awards themselves were from various events and activities that barely corresponded with each other. From fencing to swimming, and dance to pottery. From track and field to literacy, and gymnastics to cooking.

It was like you had tried to do so much of everything, and were trying to collect all of these awards from all of these different activities, rather than earn them because you deserved it for all your hard work and dedication to do that particular activity, but Bruce just couldn't understand why. Why go through all of the effort just to move on to the next thing? It... didn't make sense.

Right next to you black belt for martial arts, you had hung up the few medals you had gotten from track, and right below that were some awards you had for gymnastics. Beside your soccer trophies you had some kind of art award, and beside that was more awards and things you had received from playing and participating in other sports and activities. Bruce had no idea you were even into some of these things, but just from looking at your room, he could tell you weren't all that into or interested in some of the activities you did. Seeing as some activities and such had more awards when compared to others, but one thing in particular seemed to really catch your interest.

Music.

Not only did you have a whole wall and section of your room dedicated to it, but it felt more organized, and the placement of awards and such seemed more thought out in a way.

Countless awards littered the wall, and from the placement alone he knew you were proud of them. The pictures hung on the wall showed you shaking someone's hand as you either held up an award or album cover. You smiled, and Bruce could see how genuine it was as he felt like he could feel your happiness radiate off the photo itself. The people you were shaking hands with looked pretty happy themselves, and Bruce was a little surprised that he recognized them, but that made him feel more conflicted.

The people in those photos with you, were famous, and you had gotten those opportunities to meet them and shake their hand all by yourself.

All of these awards — they were only the finishing products of what you had spent all of your time doing. They were only small glimpses into the person you truly were, and as Bruce looked at the records you had hung on the wall, he could feel his own regret spilling out of his bleeding heart.

He wish he was there with you.

He wish that he had been there to see you even get half of these rewards that you undoubtedly deserved. He wish he got to hear the music you played, and what kind of songs you wrote. He wish he had been there to see you go on, and work your way up, with him being there as your support, and yet...

He had missed everything.

From the plays, to the matches you had, to the games you played in and competitions you participated in, and how could he forget your performances that even earned you such big, important awards. Awards that probably meant so much to you, because of how far it showed you had grown.

Bruce missed it all. Every little thing.

... He had to find you.

No if's or but's this time. No more excuses. He had to find you. Bruce needed to.

So he did a more thorough search of your room. Finally placing the flyer down on your desk as he looked around. He checked your closet, your bed, even under the picture frames, and moved some of the awards around, in order to better check and search for anything. Any hint that could point to where you had gone, and or where you might be. Any clue, any thing that could tell him about you.

He even made sure to take a mental note of the people in the photos, just in case he had to reach out to them and ask if they knew where you were by some off chance. Though that was only if Bruce was convinced that you weren't even in the Manor, and getting some extra information on you never hurt anyway. Seeing as he had a lot of catching up to do.

As he searched, he ran into various things. From equipment, art pieces — most of which were unfinished — and old notes, to other random items. Like an airsoft gun, some glass beakers, various ties, a pair of shades, a glasses frame, and a sewing kit next to a first-aid kit? Bruce didn't want to think about how the first-aid kit both looked used, and was empty.

Bruce even stumbled upon a fancy looking tuxedo he didn't remember buying you at all, but a small tag caught his eye and-

Oh, it was a gift from someone else, and with the note you left behind the tag — most likely with the intention of giving the tuxedo back — it was safe to assume that you and this person knew each other quite well...

Bruce just put the tux back. He would've gotten you a better one anyway if you had just asked, or if he even knew you needed one in the first place. Though regardless of that, he kept looking.

Eventually, he looked under your bed, and found a single box under there. Undisturbed... sitting innocently in the darkness.

Bruce didn't waste much time as he reached out and grabbed it, and placed it on your bed. There was a thin layer of dust on top of it, which Bruce found a little strange but kept in mind as he opened the box and looked inside. There, he saw a variety of notebooks and papers, and from the looks of things, the items in here had been collecting a bit of dust too...

When was the last time you touched these?

It seemed a little strange that these were tucked away from everything else, and clearly you didn't want other people going through it or even seeing them since you kept it so out of view. Were they diaries? Bruce would rather learn anything personal about you from yourself, he didn't want to go through your things like this, but considering the situation...

He sighed, and just picked up a random notebook. If this could help him find you, then so be it. He didn't want to do this but he couldn't leave you alone either. Not again.

Yet, he was so focused on looking through your things that he didn't even realize that someone had passed by, and noticed the odd room Bruce was in. A room that they themselves haven't seen before.

"Woah, what's this place? An old childhood room or something?" Dick asked as he invited himself into the room, mindlessly looking around, not really paying attention to anything in particular as he waltzed around.

"It's Y/n's room." Bruce stated bluntly, still looking over the dusty notebooks in the box. Some simply labeled 'Notes' or 'Practice', while one in particular was called 'Ideas/List & Progress' with little drawn sparkles around it. Another two weren't labeled with titles or words, and instead with small music notes doodled onto the cover in your favorite color. Though Bruce didn't know the color was your favorite.

Nevertheless, Bruce decided to look through one of the notebooks with music notes on it, completely missing how Dick had froze, and turned to look at him as if he was crazy.

"What? You've got to be kidding, right?" Bruce just gestured to one of the records on the wall, flipping through the notebook in his hand as he read through it quickly but carefully.

Dick, still not entirely convinced and honestly just really confused, looked at one of the records Bruce had gestured towards, and felt like he had just gotten ran over by a truck with how hard reality hit him. There your name was, signed and everything, with a well-known producer listened as well.

His eyes even darted to the other records, only to find the same thing, and for just one final check, he looked at one of the awards on the wall.

Your name was engraved on it.

"Holy-" He covered his mouth, more than shocked as he looked around the room again, hand falling from his face, "but that means-" Now Dick was paying more attention to the room, moving from one thing to another as he looked over everything now.

"How did they- there's no way they did all of this? And- what. They even did gymnastics?!" To say that Dick was in absolute disbelief and shock was an understatement. Yet he hardly had any time to recover or process anything as another person popped into the room, albeit only temporarily.

"I'm afraid it is quite possible, Master Dick." Alfred spoke up, catching the attention of the oldest sibling as he moved into the room, and set a stack of papers on your desk, right next to the flyer Bruce had set down.

Confused and curious, Dick looked at the stack once Alfred had pulled away from it, and picked up the first paper.

It was another flyer, but this time for some kind of solo event or concert you'd be doing. The date written down was a few days ago... a week or so having already passed since then, but how could this be?

Dick hesitated, but took another one as he looked it over. Again, it was for some kind of concert or performance, but the date and time was further away. Three weeks to a month having passed since, but how did they not notice? Didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell them?

"This doesn't make any sense... why didn't Y/n tell us about any of these things?" He asked, mostly to himself as he continued to look through the various flyers.

"Why don't you tell me, Master Dick?" Alfred quipped, looking at Dick in a knowing way before stepping out of the room, "Now, I'll be heading off, but I do trust that both of you make the right choice this time around." With that, he simply left. Leaving Dick confused but feeling worse at the same time as he looked back at the flyers, mind racing until he spotted something.

Carfully, Dick pulled out another flyer out of the pile as he placed the others to the side. He recognized this one, but where had he seen it before? Was it...

... Oh god.

Dick whipped out his phone and checked his messages. He had to scroll down a bit, but he quickly found your contact and tapped on it. He flipped through your messages, hundreds upon thousands of which he never responded to, and even if that alone made he feel bad. When he found what he was looking for, he felt even worse.

He found a message of you sending him a photo of the flyer, and said how you hoped you'd see him there. The message itself had been sent almost a year ago, and as he looked back at the flyer, he didn't know how to feel. Yet he kept looking, especially as he spotted another familiar poster.

Some of them he was able to connect back to another message you had sent, and the further back he went the more he responded... but it wasn't much, and he seemed to leave you on read more times than not. He had made an effort, but clearly it wasn't enough.

Dick couldn't imagine how that must've felt for you, and he almost didn't want to. Yet he still continued to search through the flyers, and came across one he had an odd memory of. He did remember seeing a text for it, but also remembered hearing about it somehow? He wasn't too sure, but just incase he did decide to look through his voicemail. He didn't know what he'd find, but he decided to just have a little look, even if he wasn't sure he'd even find anything.

So, he matched the date of the message and scrolled until he found it.

The voicemail innocently stared at him, and Dick couldn't help but hesitate before he tapped on it, and let it play. Heart already heavy as he stared down at the flyer. The kind of look someone gave when they already knew it was too late, and Dick didn't know what was worse. The fact that he basically missed out on your entire life at this point, or that he had nothing to say for it besides that he was sorry, and had just forgotten about these things one too many times.

["Hey, Dick! I, um, I hope everything is going well and that patrol hasn't been too bad." Your voice wavered as you spoke. You were clearly nervous but you tried to push on anyway, and cleared your throat before you tried again.]

["How are you, though? I heard that you had a rough night the other day- and I know I'm not really into all this crime-fighting stuff like everyone else but... I just hope you're okay, y'know?" You chuckled nervously before you cleared your throat again, "An-anyway, um, yeah. I just- hope you're okay." The sound of a paper being fiddled with could be heard, and you took in a small breath.]

["So... I have this performance I'll be doing next Saturday- it's more of a competition really, since other musicians and stuff will be there too. It's at 7 o'clock, and I know you guys mostly work at night and everything- but if you could drop by or even just quickly come around at 8:15 that would be great! Since, um, that's when I'll be performing..."]

Dick looked at awards you hung on the wall as the voicemall continued to play. Based on the date of the performance he was able to find the award. You had gotten second place.

["It's um, it's a piece I wrote that's a tribute to your family- the Flying Graysons, that is, since we're allowed to play songs we wrote if they were approved beforehand, and it was! So, um, I really hope you don't mind. Your family is cool! Not that Bruce and everyone else isn't or anything- um, I'm going to stop talking about that before I say something stupid. But! I couldn't help but feel inspired so I, y'know-" you cleared your throat again. Clearly nervous.]

["Sorry for my rambling- but, yeah. You can pass by if you want or have the time, and it's right by that one place Bruce had that whole charity announcement on Monday. You can't miss it, there will be lights and all this other stuff- not to mention that it'll probably be loud considering things, but uh, yeah."]

["So if you think you can make it or pass by, it's at 7! Next Saturday! And if you can't make it by then, I play at 8:15! So, yeah. Remember that! If- if you want to. Hope to see you there! And if I don't, that's okay. I just hope you enjoy the piece if you hear it. Have a good night! Or-! Or day! Whenever you listen this- um, bye!"]

What? You had wrote a song for him? For his parents? For them?

Dick's heart swelled. He didn't even get to hear it either, he wasn't able to. He didn't have time, and he forgot, but that didn't make things better, did it?

You had gone through all of that effort, and not only made a song for him but even played it during a competition and got second place. Yet he couldn't even put a few minutes to the side to listen to it. He didn't.

Now Dick definitely felt awful.

However, he did notice that there was another voicemail left by you just a few minutes after the last one. So, he decided to play that too before his guilt and regret could fully settle in, as if it'd make him feel better somehow.

["8:45! IT'S 8:45! THAT'S WHEN I PLAY! NOT- Not 8:15, sorry! I mixed up the times- that's when a friend of mine plays, not me! Sorry! Uh, but yeah. I play at 8:45- stop by if you can! I hope to see you then! Buh-bye!"]

Okay, well, Dick officially felt worse now. So much worse.

You had all this character and personality, and yet he was never able to fully see it — to hear it like he has now. Not like this, not while he was paying attention.

Your voice was so much different than what he remembered, and despite your nerves you really tried to tell him because you hoped he'd be there. You tried to tell him in hopes he'd actually show up, and he never did. Even as he listened to your other voice messages, he could hear how his own actions, or lack thereof, were affecting you.

The messages grew shorter, more to the point, and while you did still sound enthusiastic — it's like he could hear the hope dying in your voice. The hope that'd he show up. That any effort would be made, but that didn't happen, and it didn't help that Dick was listening to some of the voicemails he was going through right now, for the first time.

He could only imagine the pain he caused you, and Bruce was thinking the same thing.

Bruce was still looking through your notebooks as Dick was regretting everything he had done to you in the past.

The notebook Bruce was reading now was one where you had written down majority of your more recent song ideas, along with things you wanted to try and melodies you were trying to mix together. It was mostly full of lyrics and small notes to yourself about certain things you wanted to keep in mind, and though there was a lot of things crossed out, Bruce couldn't help but be... charmed in a strange way.

How you talked to yourself was adorable, and seeing your excitement for your own performances and such through each word you wrote, just made Bruce feel so happy for you. He could almost picture your smile and how giddy you felt when you were writing some of these things down, or how focused you were when trying to figure out how to continue the chorus of a song you were making — or if there should even be lyrics to begin with. Along with how you wanted the song itself to sound, and what emotions you wanted to capture in it.

With each page turned it's like he could see the entire process you went through when it came to your song composition. Like he was almost there with you in the moment, watching you do your thing, and honestly? Just by that alone he couldn't help but grow... softer.

Bruce loved seeing how your mind worked when it came to music, and your thought process behind each and every little thing. He just... he felt like through each line and little note he read and looked over, he was falling in love. The kind of love that he couldn't quite describe, besides just the love only a father could feel when they really see their child for who they are for the first time. The kind of love Bruce hadn't felt in a long while, nor this intensely.

You were so creative and passionate, so driven to achieve your dream and do what you loved. You were just so... you, and there was just something about the way you expressed that in the notebook that felt charming. The deeper Bruce got into the notebook, the harder it was to not love you, and each time he saw one of your little notes, he could feel himself smiling. You were so precious, how could he not see that before?

Though, besides all of that, he did notice a small pattern.

Every performance you had, you mentioned in the notebook and would express your feelings about it, and every time you did — you'd write something beneath it. Just a small paragraph about certain hopes you had. Hopes that made Bruce's heart squeeze tighter.

It was you hoping that they'd get to see you perform, that they'd show up, and suddenly Bruce was reminded of why he was doing this in the first place. So, he started to flip through your book, shaking out of whatever trance he was in.

With each performance that passed, the little paragraph got shorter, smaller, simpler. Like a quiet prayer that was dying down, as the believer slowly lost their hope and faith. It even came to a point where only one sentence was written for a while.

"I hope I see one of them."

Bruce's heart broke a little more each and every time he saw it, but the page that really got to him was when the sentence was smudged, small wrinkles and creases were on the page, and you couldn’t even finish writing the sentence as the end of the 'e' in 'them' dragged out.

What didn't help was when he flipped a few more pages, and found the last performance you had written about. It was a few months ago, but the date didn't immediately catch Bruce's eye. No, no, no, what caught his attention at first was the change of that single sentence.

"I hope the audience enjoys it."

His heart shattered at that, smile fading as he took in a breath. A moment passed, with Bruce just stating at the writing. Wishing for the impossible, and to change things that had already been done. It was too late, but he somehow refused to believe that now.

Finally, he noticed the date and paused.

That... couldn't be right. You used to write in this notebook all the time from what he could tell, why did you stop? Did something happen that day?

If months really have passed... then that would explain all the dust on the box and contents within it, but still, it didn't make sense. Weren't you still here in the Manor? Bruce honestly couldn't think of why'd you would stop writing unless you somehow couldn't reach the notebook, but you couldn’t have left, right? Surely, above everything else, he would've notice that, right?

...

Bruce finally looked at Dick, seeing the oldest just staring at old flyers from various events and such you had participated in throughout your life. A life they never got to see.

"When was Y/n's last performance?" He asked bluntly, getting straight to the point.

Dick glanced at Bruce for a moment before looking back down at your desk. He moved some of the papers around before he found the most recent one and looked over to his father with a raised brow.

"About a week ago, why?"

Bruce looked back down at the notebook in his hand, eyes scanning over the date again before he closed it. Looking back at Dick, he asked another question.

"Have you seen Y/n around?"

Dick grew quiet at that, and after a moment he just sighed and shook his head.

"No, I can't say I have." It was only then did he catch what Bruce may have been thinking, "You don't think they-"

"It's a possibility. We can't be too sure just yet," Bruce just wanted to hold onto his hope that you were still here, and even if the chance was small he was willing to take it. He didn't want to believe that they had pushed you so far away that you would not only consider leaving, but actually went ahead and did it. He wanted to be doubtful, but he couldn't rule out anything. Not yet.

"Just keep looking, I'll go ask the others." Bruce stated as he placed the notebook back in the box and headed out the room.

"Keep looking? For what?! Other events we missed? More ways we ignored them? Things they did without us?!"

To say Dick's guilt was eating away at him would be an understatement. It was practically devouring him at this point, and he could just barely take it.

Bruce paused at the doorframe, sighing as he looked back at Dick, "Any hints or clues to where they could be. Favorite spots they might frequent, places where their lessons were held, people they know, anything." He left him with that, causing Dick to just run a stressed hand through his hair as he took a breath.

Worry and regret heavily weighed down on him, but all he could do was carry it for now. He'd make it up to you somehow. He would, and he'd finally get to hear that song one way or another.

As Dick started his search, so did Bruce.

Bruce did a general search around the house, looking for anyone he came across while also trying to look for you. He thought that if he was lucky, he'd run into you. Even if the possibility was small, it could still happen — or he hoped so anyway.

Just this once, Bruce really hoped for the best.

Though, he did end up running into someone, even if it wasn't who he was looking for.

"Woah, someone looks serious. What's got your bat panties in a twist?" Jason asked, amused, "Actually, wait, don't tell me. I don't c-"

"Have you seen Y/n?" Bruce cut Jason off, getting straight to the point.

The sudden question confused Jason as he gave Bruce a weird look, some of his amusment still remaining but it began to die down a bit.

"No... why?"

Bruce took a breath, fingers twitching, "Do you know where they could be?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Jason's own confusion began to take over, his amusement continuing to die down, "Seriously, did something happen? Why are you suddenly looking for them?"

Bruce took a moment, just looking at Jason before he sighed.

"When was the last time you saw them?"

"... A few days ago..." Jason glanced off to the side.

"Jason."

"Okay, okay! Fine. I don't fucking know! A few weeks ago? Maybe?!" He answered, getting agitated already. "I'm barely here enough as it is, how am I supposed to know where they are!"

Again, Bruce took in another breath, but there was something about it that Jason didn't like. Maybe he inhaled too sharply or deeply — Jason wasn't sure, but all he knew was that he wasn't going to like what Bruce was about to say.

"Dick hasn't seen them either."

"And that's supposed to be a surprise, how? He lives all the way in Bludhaven, of course he isn't going to see Y/n. 'Cause they live here-"

"I haven't seen them."

"..." That was a little more surprising, but just a little more. It still couldn’t mean anything... right?

"With all the shit you do, I would be surprised if you even saw them on a semi-regular basis." Jason crossed his arms, still not convinced — not entirely anyway. Yet Bruce could only exhale softly, the action bothering Jason even more.

"It's just a possibility. I'm trying to find them. Think you can help out?" Bruce clarified before asking. Additional help would definitely be great, especially because it meant that they could find you faster. He could find you faster.

"What makes you think I'm gonna do that?"

"Did know that Y/n wrote a song that's a tributed to you?"

"... What."

Bruce sighed, "You don't have to do it because I asked you to, or even because I want to find them. You can do it for yourself, Jason. But I'll leave that decision to you." Then, he just walked off to continue his search for you, and the other occupants of the Manor. Leaving Jason by himself, alone...

"That bitch-" Jason cursed under his breath as he walked off, deciding that he'll help look. Though only so he could ask you if Bruce was bullshiting him or not, and not for any other reason...

... Wait, you wrote songs? Like, actually?

Jason just shook his head, already upset enough as he shoved the thought to the side. When he found you he could ask, and how hard could that be? The Manor was only so big, and besides, you were just one person. He could probably find you before Bruce if he just looked in the right places, but the only thing now was finding those places...

Okay, so maybe he saw the problem, but still. This couldn't be too hard. You were the only one in the whole family who wasn't a vigilante, and so it was only about a matter of time.

Nevertheless, Jason began looking around as well, trying to figure out where he should look as he mindlessly checked every other room he came across. Where would you even go anyway? He'd probably check your room first but he figured that Bruce had already checked there, and it wasn't like Jason knew where your room even was. Though he just chalked that up to how infrequent his incredibly short visits were.

Still, he didn't even know where to start, and would rather avoid searching the entire Manor if he could. He tried to scratch his brain for anything but he just... had no idea.

Well, okay, he had one idea, but that was only because of one night. Even then he's still not sure it was you who he saw on the-

["Master Y/n? Are you alright?"]

Jason's thought process was cut off by a sudden voice. He immediately recognized it as Alfred's, and a realization hit him. Right! He should look for Alfred first, he'd know where you are. Alfred practically knew everything about everyone in the Manor, so he'd lnow something for sure.

So, he followed the sound until he stood in the doorway of one of the lounges. The television was on and playing some kind of recording, but Jason paid no mind to it.

Confused, Jason called out, "Alfred?"

When he didn't receive a response, he huffed as his eyes drifted to the television. What was playing, anyway?

You — a smaller, younger version of you — stood in a door way, looking out in the hall before turning back to the camera. Big, innocent eyes looking up. Looking at Jason.

You couldn't have been no older than eight or nine.

[You gave a little nod with a small hum, "I'm okay, Alfred. Just... waiting, like you said."]

A small, soft huff could be heard from the other end of the camera, and the camera moved to be placed down a counter of some kind. Which revealed Alfred to be the one having been recording everything so far.

["Yes, well. How about we do a little something while we wait, hm?" Alfred asked, moving a stool closer to the counter — moving the camera again to be placed on the kitchen isle this time.]

Ingredients and tools used for baking could be seem on the counter. The stool Alfred had place was next to where he was standing, and a good distance away from the stove.

[You looked at Alfred curiously, "What are we going to do?"]

["Oh, nothing too much, Master Y/n. But... I do require a bit of assistance baking this cake, that is if you'd like to help, of course." Alfred patted the top of the stool as he spoke, "Though you can always just watch, if you'd like."]

[You perked up at what Alfred said, climbing up onto the stool enthusiastically with a smile. "I wanna help!" You exclaimed, looking over the ingredients before looking back at Alfred, "But... what cake are we making?"]

[Alfred hummed, pretending to think before be looked back down at you, "Well, what kind of cake would you like, Master Y/n? It is your birthday after all."]

["Really?" When Alfred nodded, you gasped excitedly before suggesting your favorite flavor at the time.]

["Well then, let's get started, shall we?"]

From there, the rest of the recording was of you and Alfred baking. With Alfred helping you when he had to, and laughing lightly when you would inevitably make a mess.

Laughs and jokes were exchanged, and it was probably the happiest Jason has ever seen you... which made him feel weird in a way. He didn't like it, not one bit, and yet he continued to watch the old, wholesome memory play out before him.

Jason watched as you got a bit of flour on your nose and how Alfred wiped it off. He watched as while Alfred was deciding on the shape of the cake, you gathered all the different colors and types of sprinkles you could find, and was looking at a particular color of food coloring. How you nearly fell trying to grab the food coloring, and how Alfred just narrowly managed to catch you. How after that, Alfred visibly recovered from the near heart attack he had gotten from watching you fall, and just watched you add the food coloring to the frosting after you had thanked him for catching you, and apologized for falling.

... It got Jason thinking, if only a little bit.

He didn't know much about you, not really anyway. Even if his visits were few and far inbetween, not to mention incredibly short, someone would think that he'd catch onto a few things about you, or just generally have more interactions with you, but he didn't. All he really knew was that you knew how to play the violin really well, but that was assuming that who he saw that night really was you. Even if he doesn't know who else it'd be.

Jason still remembered that one occurrence despite how long it's been since then... but that was for a different time. He had to focus now, but he still couldn't help but watch the little version of you trying to frost the cake without being too messy, but failing miserably.

It did get him thinking about how many small moments he had missed with you, and just... how little time he had actually spent around you.

Obviously, you weren't a little kid anymore. After all, the last time he remembered seeing you — you were already a teenager. Though was that really a good thing? Jason did remember having some kind of interaction with you in the past... but it wasn't much of anything, and even then he probably forgot half of those moments. What definitely didn't help is that you both didn't have each other's phone numbers, and the only form of communication you had was seeing each other in person.

.... Okay, maybe this whole 'finding you' thing was definitely a lot harder than Jason had originally thought.

["... Are they going to come, Alfred?" You asked, sitting in front of the cake you and Alfred had just made together, looking up at the camera that Alfred was holding once again.]

[Alfred didn't respond right away, but did eventually say, "I'm afraid not, Master Y/n, but if you'd like we could wait a little longer."]

[You shook your head, looking at the cake before looking back at the camera, "It's okay. We can blow out the candles now, but..." you hesitated, looking down at the table, "could you... stay with me? Please?" You looked away, embrassed for asking but didn't take back what you said.]

[Again, a soft huff came from the other end of the camera. "Of course, Master Y/n."]

After a short happy birthday song, the camera was placed down on the table as Alfred cut the cake. It was only after Alfred had given both you and himself a slice did the footage cut out.

Nothing could describe the face you made when Alfred said that no one was coming. Just like how Jason couldn't even begin to describe what it made him feel.

Even when a new recording started, he could hardly pay attention to it as all he saw was your face staring up at the camera. Expression not necessarily sad or upset, but it was easily the most heartbreaking thing Jason had ever seen. A kid shouldn't have a face like that. You shouldn't have a face like that.

Jason was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice Cassandra trying to get his attention, nor did he feel her even pull on his sleeve. All he could think of was you, sitting at that table all by yourself. Alone.

He just turned the other way, practically stomping down the hall as he looked straight ahead, glaring.

He had to find you. Now.

Cass, on the other hand, was just confused. Watching as Jason stormed off before looking back at the recording that was playing on the television. What about it had made Jason sp upset? She didn't know, but she was a bit curious.

Bruce had already confronted her and asked her where you were, and of course she didn't know either. He did mention something about how Damian was trying to help a little, which was a surprise in itself, and how Jason might be trying to search for you too, and had asked her if she could do the same. She agreed, of course, just wanting to help out, but having run into Jason just now? That was... odd. Especially when he suddenly stormed off like that, but that wasn't her main focus right now. She still had to-

["Are you still trying to record this, Alfred?"]

Wait... was that your voice?

Cassandra turned back to the television, only to see the camera pointed towards the floor.

["Of course, Master Y/n. Just give me one moment, I almost have the camera set up."]

Oh, Alfred was there too? What was going on?

[Light laughter was heard before you spoke again, "Here, let me help you."]

The camera began to move, and as it paned up, there you were. A soft smile on your face, shining colored hues looking at the camera as you made a few more adjustments before stepping away.

Now, you definitely looked like a teenager or young adult. Voice more matured and settled, almost calm in a way.

["There. That should be good, what do you think?" You asked Alfred, tilting your head to the side a bit, most likely looking at the butler.]

["I have to agree, Master Y/n. Everything should be working properly." Alfred then came into frame, moving towards the counter as you moved around the kitchen isle to follow him. "Now, what is it that you wanted to make this year?"]

["Oh! Right, well..." and you told him, already grabbing a few necessarily ingredients from around the kitchen.]

It wasn't long before the two of you started baking again, but this time around you were clearly more experienced than your younger self — not that Cass was aware of that anyway. You both did your own parts, working exceedingly well together as the conversation between the two of you was nothing but natural.

Cass never saw you talk so naturally, or even knew you could bake, but there were a lot of things she didn't know about you.

She could see that in the footage, you were really relaxed and happy. Almost at ease as you skillfully moved about, as if knowing the necessary steps to make what you were hoping to bake by heart, and how you navigated the kitchen made it look as if you almost knew it as well as Alfred did. It was almost refreshing to see you just be so... in tune with your surroundings, and Cass almost wished she had been there to see you bake for herself. Though she could settle watching footage of you bake for now.

Even if she didn't know why you were even baking in the first place until Alfred mentioned something about a gift for your Birthday, and how that led you to talking about some of the things your friends had given you.

This was... your birthday? Just you and Alfred?

That didn't feel right... but then again, she didn't even know when your birthday was to begin with — and now that she thinks about, had you ever celebrated Christmas with everyone? As a whole family?

... She wasn't sure.

["Are you certain that you don't want to wait, Master Y/n? You never know, someone could show up this time." Alfred asked, looking at you with slight concern.]

[You only smiled, "I'm sure. Besides, even if any of them did come, we both know that it'd be on accident." You laughed lightly to yourself, looking down at the pastry both you and Alfred had made together. "I doubt they even know when my birthday is, but that's okay." You looked back at Alfred, your smile still happy but... there was something off with it.]

["I've told you before, haven't I? You're all the company I need in this house. I'm happy just spending my birthdays like this with you." You took a piece of the pastry and ripped it off before holding it in the air, as if doing a toast, and held it toward Alfred. "So, happy birthday to me?"]

[Alfred sighed softly, but could only smile as he took his own piece of the pastry, copying your actions as he held the piece toward you, "Happy birthday, Master Y/n."]

The footage cut right after, and suddenly Cass found herself in a similar position that Jason had been in just a few moments ago. Just staring at the screen, unsure what to do with this new information, the weight on her chest growing.

Had you really spent every birthday like that? If so... then why didn't you tell anyone? Or had you tried, only for nothing to come of it?

The thought alone hurt, strangely enough, and all Cass wanted to do was... well. She wasn't sure.

She wanted to do so many things, and yet she didn't know if anything would work. Or if anything she could do would fix... well, anything at all.

She wanted to try your baking and... and celebrate a birthday with you. Or maybe she just felt obligated to do so after having seen the recording, but a big part of her did mean it. Especially because she didn't want you to feel alone or anything ever again, not after seeing the extent it went to. Though perhaps there was some irony in that thought that Cass failed to realize.

Regardless, Cass found herself walking off too. Completely missing the figure who turned off the television, and unplugged the camera from it that held all of the footage both her and Jason were shown.

Cass was practically speed walking as she checked the library — remembering have seen glimpses of you in there before — while Jason checked the music room, only for both to turn up equally empty. Yet they kept looking. Everyone did.

Dick tried calling and texting you while trying to see if there was anywhere you could be outside of the Manor. Tim ended up helping as he ran into Dick, and was basically locating and tracking down all the places you've been to with the help of your notebooks and awards in your room. All the while listening to some very earlier pieces you've wrote and played on the mp3 player he found in your box.

Bruce was still looking all over the Manor for you, each minute that passed making him more paranoid and worried. What started as a small possibility was growing into a certainty and he did not enjoy that at all. Damian had decided to search for Alfred, since it seemed like the smartest choice if they wanted to end this quickly. Yet when he did find Alfred and asked him where you were, it turned out that Alfred didn't know where you were either.

While yes, he did know some of the teachers and coaches you've had in the past, he didn't know where you were at this exact moment. How could that be? It was simple, really.

Alfred hadn't seen you in a while either, and once that little piece of information spread around the family... what followed after could only be described as chaos.

The Manor was practically flipped upside down as Bruce, Damian, Jason, and Cass searched for you. Not a single room went unchecked, and when they still came out empty handed, their own worries began to fuel each others.

Dick was the first one to suit up and head out, already calling Barbara as night fell on Gotham, with Tim beginning to suit up — yet Jason had beat him to the punch and was out the second the Manor was cleared. Cass was next to follow, with Bruce and Damian not following too far behind. Tim only left after informing Stephanie — and after downloading some of your songs — and telling Alfred to keep a look out just in case you came back home.

In just a few hours, what started as an unusually uneventful and calm, quiet day for the family, quickly turned into one of the most panicked induced searches and painful night of their lives.

All because of you.

---------

You were tuning your guitar calmly, tapping your foot to the melody playing in your head as you hummed. The silence surrounding you was peaceful for a chance, and didn't feel suffocating or as unnerving as the silence in the Manor did.

Honestly, it took a bit of getting used to but after a few weeks you had grown to love it. Waking up everyday and having someone there to not only greet you, but actually acknowledge you also took a bit of getting used to, but you managed much more easily with that.

Sure, there were other things as well, but you eased into it and had come to accept these small things as just parts of your new life. Yet, you still found yourself appreciating and noticing the smallest things, and almost crying over them too.

It had been a few months since you had left the Manor, and honestly you couldn't be happier.

You now shared an apartment with one of your closets friends, and your career helped you cover your half of the rent, as well as other expenses. You had truly found comfort with this new lifestyle, and even if you'd like to move out of Gotham one day — you could settle for this for now.

This, you believed, was what peace truly felt like.

Even when your phone started to go off like crazy — you just took one look at who it was and rolled your eyes, putting your phone on silent as you placed it face down on the table in front of you. You didn't know what Dick and Tim needed so badly, but you were sure they'd be able to figure it out themselves. After all, they were the sons of the world's greatest detective, right? They could handle themselves.

So you just leaned back into your couch, sighing softly as you mindlessly strummed away at your guitar, smiling a little to yourself when the tune was just right. Creating a melody came all too naturally to you, and all you did was carry it on — humming softly as countless ideas filled your head. A small song beginning to form, even if unintentionally.

A song that went on — with the suffering of Gotham going on in the background. The city being cleared out and searched by the vigilantes that dared to protect it, all of it being done just to look for one person. You.

The shouts and screams served as the base, with the shattering of glass and bones being the lower kick, perhaps. The heart beat serving as the tempo, and so on.

So, just as you had years ago, you played on. Calm and happy in your own little world, unaware of the horrors to come — and destruction being made in your name.

–––––

Well, that's long, isn't it?

Might be making a another post that kind of details what some of the others did before everything went to hell? We'll see. Maybe.

Sorry again for any mistakes, especially towards the halfway point/end there.

[yooniivrse]

bouquet | myg

summary. every day with you serves as a reminder that you are, in fact, the best thing that has happened to him

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: established relationsip au, fluff

word count: 1.3k

content: oc buys yoongi flowers / my man is whipped

warnings: none <333

notes: u can find the post explaining how i imagine yoongi and oc’s apartment here (in case u wanna visualise it better) likes, comments, reblogs, asks and feedback are so appreciated!! i hope you guys enjoy <333

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main masterlist

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The fresh scent of flowers tickles your nose as you hold the bouquet close to your chest. You can't help but pride yourself in your selection as you admire the pale colours that caress each petal; an arrangement of pinks the same shade as the blush you often find creeping across your cheeks, oranges that mimic the morning sky on a winter day, yellows that remind you of the sunshine that warms your eyelids as you lie in bed during summer, and whites that reflect the hue of the moon.

It may not be perfect, but it's just right for your boyfriend — this you're sure of. Because it's Yoongi who causes your blushes and watches the sunrise with you in his arms despite the chilly weather; it's Yoongi who convinces you to stay in bed for "just a bit longer", until the day is almost gone but it doesn't feel wasted because it was spent with him.

Yoongi illuminates the dark skies that often haunt you, lighting up even your dullest days in his own way. And he whispers sweet nothings in your ear at night as if they're words from the moon itself.

Getting Yoongi flowers wasn't something you set out in the morning intending to do. You had come across the bouquets on your way back home from work, catching sight of them in the window of a quaint flower shop tucked in the corner of a street. It still baffles you how you had managed to not see the building for so long despite knowing the street like the back of your hand.

It was hard to miss too, given the amount of intricately put together bouquets wrapped in parchment paper and potted plants that were displayed on wooden stands just outside. They spilt out across the sidewalk, painting the grey town with the pop of colour it desperately needed.

You don't know what it was, but nothing had felt more right for you to do at that moment. So you marched in and paid an outrageous amount of money without a second thought.

And now, here you were — unable to hide the smile on your face despite the burn on your cheeks — watching the elevator ascend to the floor of your apartment. The pixelated numbers seemed to be moving slower than usual today, but you didn't linger on it for too long.

Eventually, the steel doors part to let you out, and you walk down the empty hallway to your apartment. It's a struggle to unlock the door with the flowers in one hand and your tote bag flimsily slung around your other shoulder, but you manage.

The door opens with a familiar creak and you step inside.

The immediate aroma of food that hits you is sudden, but also mouth-watering. You make your way down to the source of the smell — the kitchen — to find Yoongi working away at the stove.

A short towel hands around his neck, catching the droplets of water that fall from the ends of his hair. A loose, black t-shirt hangs on his figure, along with a pair of grey sweatpants. He hums an oddly staccato tune to himself, completely immersed in whatever he's cooking.

"Hi."

Yoongi's gaze immediately moves from the dish in front of him to you, a smile spreading across his face.

"Hello." He meets your eyes for a brief second before moving down to the flowers. He quirks an eyebrow, lifting his gaze again. "Special occasion?"

"No. I got them for you...just because," you reply with a shrug, walking over to him with the bouquet outstretched in your hands.

"Oh. I- Thank you." You don't fail to catch the tint of pink that creeps across his skin, slowly becoming prominent around the tips of his ears as he takes the flowers from your hand.

He stares at the arrangement for a few seconds, and you feel a flutter of nervousness in your stomach. He would like them, right?

"So, whatcha cooking?" you ask, eyeing the pot of noodles. A small pile of thinly cut cucumber rests on a cutting board just beside the stove, but before you can take in everything else displayed across the marble, Yoongi's lips are on yours.

You melt into the kiss almost instantly. Your heart soars in your chest and the nerves in your stomach wash away, only to be replaced by the erratic flutter of butterflies.

Yoongi tastes faintly of mint and love, and the pressure of his kiss is slightly stronger than usual — as if he's reminding you of who his heart belongs to, even though you're already well aware.

The feeling of knowing that you're loved is almost overwhelming, but you bask in it, unable to stop your lips from spreading into a smile against his mouth.

"God, I love you so much," Yoongi mumbles as he pulls back, tenderly moving a few strands of your hair behind your ear, and you giggle at his words.

"I love you too, baby," you reply. His eyes crinkle into soft crescent moons, and he places another peck against your lips.

"Where do you think we should put it?" He does a quick scan of the room and you follow his movements. The coffee table would've been your first option, but it's occupied by the flowers he got you on your most recent date.

"Hmm." Your eyes move down the room. "I think it should look fine in the bedroom."'

Yoongi hums in agreement. "You're right. I'll put them here for now, 'cause I'm fucking starving right now."

"Oh my God, same," you reply as he places the bouquet on the marble island behind him. "What are you making anyway?"

"Just jajangmyeon. You mentioned wanting it last night, so I thought I'd make it for you. Didn't want you to get food poisoning like last time when we went to that sketchy restaurant."

"You're amazing," you say, loudly kissing him on the cheek. "I was literally craving it all day today."

Yoongi lets out a soft chuckle. "I knew you would be. Don't worry, it'll be ready pretty soon."

"I'll go get changed then. Don't burn down the house!"

"That's rich coming from you," he says with a snort.

You feign innocence with a shrug. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Mhm, sure you don't."

As you leave the kitchen, your laughter still echoing in the room, Yoongi lingers by the bouquet. A feeling of warmth blooms across his skin, and he's sure that it has nothing to do with the stove.

Even as he continues to stir the noodles, the only thing he is focused on is the single thought in his head.

You really are the best thing that has happened to him.

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ green is the color of envy (and poison)

type of post: fic characters: neige, vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, vague possessiveness maybe angst idk, oooh drama author's note: I wanted a break from headcanons and had this strange urge to do a character study for neige. here I am, writing this at midnight

Neige Leblanche does not hate Vil Schoenheit.

The thought had not even occurred to him.

In fact, if you had even asked as much, his wide, doe-like eyes would fill with pretty tears, and he would ask you, in a trembling voice, if you really thought of him so cruelly.

Neige Leblanche did not hate anyone. On the contrary, he had so much love, it practically overflowed from him, touching the ground at his feet and imprinting itself on everything he held.

He was, for all intents and purposes, a vision of loveliness, a sunrise, morning dew on the petal of a white lily. He would have gladly, if you asked him, plucked each star out of the sky for you, written you a thousand songs, laid himself at your feet in adoration.

He was cupid, a chubby-faced, blushing cherub.

He had been content, for a time. Happy, even, with his little life, the family and career he had built with his own two hands, though you wouldn't know it from their softness.

Then, there was you.

You. You. The magicless prefect of Night Raven College. An otherworldly being. A hero.

You. So kindhearted, always gentle with the first years and animals. So polite, with him and his friends. So brave, facing danger and coming out unscathed. Your hope and gratefulness despite your circumstances reminded him, in a way, of himself.

There was no other explanation for it. You were sent for him.

Neige had simply never been so sure of anything. It felt right. It felt perfect. You were the one he'd been waiting for. You were his.

After the VDC, he couldn't stop thinking about you. You! You were perfect for him, his soulmate, and he didn't need to know you to know that. He'd never felt like this before, after all. It must be love.

You feel it too, don't you?

Limb by limb, he sews together a ragdoll of you in his mind. Something simple. Soft. Beautiful. Something for his thoughts to play with. He gives you a sword, one day, and he makes you a knight. He dresses you in the finest of silks, and he makes you a noble. He pushes up the corners of your sewn-together mouth, and he makes you smile back at him.

You're kind. You're brave. You're loving. You're loyal. You're chivalrous. You're anything he could want or need, anything at all, because you're his.

Why would fate lead him to someone who wasn't already perfect?

And, oh, how he wants to pick you flowers. Neige will make you breakfast in bed, and sing for you. Everyone loves him; and he loves everyone. But it isn't enough. You're his soulmate. Don't you know?

Why do you keep looking at each other like that.

You're so friendly, just like Neige, always so eager to please. Right? That's what it is. Right?

There could be no other reason for you and Vil Schoenheit to look at each other like that. As if you know something that Neige doesn't. As if you're having a conversation with only your eyes. What is that? What does it mean?

Why does he feel so comfortable touching you?

A hand on the small of your back, an arm around your waist. He corrects your posture with both hands on your shoulders. He taps your thigh when you're distracted. He holds your face in both palms to scold you for smudging the eyeliner he had so tediously put on you before coming here...

Why do you smile at him when he lectures you? Why does he smile back?

This strange, dizzying feeling, this tightness in Neige's chest, this unwelcomed weight, can't just be confusion.

He can only lie to himself for so long.

You feel it, too... don't you? Don't you get butterflies when you look at him? Don't you feel dizzy? Don't you think of him?

Vil murmurs something in your ear with a sly smile, and you laugh.

And you haven't even looked at Neige once yet. The thought makes him clench his fists under the table.

As this new, painful weight settles in his stomach, a dizzying thought sits with it.

Neige Leblanche is jealous.

Of Vil Schoenheit.

[aklaustaleteller]

hey can you do one where the reader kind off changed klaus for the better he quit most of the killing shit a ultimately became a better person over all, and the news was all over that klaus mikealson had gone soft, so one of his (many) enemies decides to kidnap or hurt the reader as they think he had gone soft and he goes all hybrid on everyone to remind them of what he is capable off

Vontade

Y/n and Klaus had settled in the English Countryside, living in an isolated mansion that was settled under thick mist on most days. But what happens when Klaus leaves for a little, and things take a sinister turn for Y/n?

Warnings - I'm not joking when I say I have a list (right here). I'm begging on you on my knees -- please read the list before diving into the fic!!

Word Count - 10.2k (don't ask me about it)

Masterlist | please reblog the fic if you like it!

EVERYONE CALM DOWN THE OCTOBER FIC IS FINALLY HERE!!! Wait let me calm down first. It's been so very long but I hope you guys will find the wait worth it!! This is the longest fic I've ever written, and probably the darkest too! The amount of research that went into this is mind boggling but anyways, I really really really hope you enjoy your time reading!! (the fic is divided into 2 parts, both of which are in this post itself!)

Thank you, anon, for requesting this and waiting so long! I might've taken a completely different route than what you asked for but I hope you won't mind too much <3

And I'm so sorry if I raised anyone's expectations too much!! If there one thing you should know about me, it's that I'm a disappointment. So expect the worst, thank you!

And please, please, please share your thoughts with me -- give feedback and reblog! It'll genuinely increase my life span ajshfjjakgds. (If you hate this fic, don't tell me I'm faint hearted, okay? okay.)

Holding the curtains to the side, Klaus gazed out of the window, the ghosts of the past not so visible anymore in the heavy mist that sat upon the empty acres of land that held nothing but dead grass as well as the dead, gone and buried.

It was so early in the morning that it felt like early winter, and the moon was still visible, looking so soft that its sight took all the weight of grief off the watcher's heart.

The collar of his cotton shirt ruffled as a gust of wind passed him by and touched the cold skin of his wife who lay in bed, gazing at him with the tired eyes that didn't catch a blink of sleep in the centuries that they have shown her the terrors and the romanticised of the world.

He smiled, already turning to walk over to her side of the bed. He knelt on the hardwood floor, ignoring it's creaking as he leaned in to press a kiss to her ear lobe, one that chased her mouth.

More of the wind rushed inside the room but neither of them paid much mind to it, for the cold didn't bother them much. Y/n kissed him back, giggling because it seemed that his mouth was eager to wander to places that might be more sinful than the true existence of their kind.

"When do you have to leave?" Y/n asked, breathless as Klaus intertwined his fingers with hers, and saddened because of the inevitable.

"In a few hours," Klaus suggested as he raised the skirt of her night gown while he himself slipped lower and lower until Y/n had to raise the sheets with her hand to look into his eyes as he bit into her thigh close enough to her heat to make her eyes to roll into the back of her skull.

Her palm traced the valleys of his face, feeling the highs and the lows to keep herself from transcending somewhere else while his mouth traced and lapped at her sweetness that was mentioned instead as poison in one of the books that she'd read in some of her earlier days.

"Klaus," she heaved his name as he quickened his pace, his eyes boring into hers, putting on a veil of innocence that they had lost even before they'd been first witness to the world.

Y/n believed that she'd lost her innocence the moment her mother had died while giving birth to her.

Air escaped her lungs all at once as she felt herself release and her hands clutched the unruly curls on the top of Klaus' head. Her hips lifted off the bed, meeting and escaping his mouth at the same time while a certain kind of dizziness took over her, making her feel like a leaf drifting slowly and slowly, off the tree, towards the earth.

Her mouth instinctively kissed back his lips, and she turned the two of them, so she was sitting on top of him. A grin took over her mouth, her eyes crinkling on the corners as she kissed up his chest and wandered off with her trail sideways.

Y/n inhaled softly and deeply upon his neck, sinking her cunning teeth into his hardened skin until she felt some warmth gush into her mouth. His blood coated her tongue like a thick syrup, sweet and addictive.

She sucked and more of it came flowing. In fact, so much of it came that she felt some slipping down the corners of her mouth. So, she backed away, licking the edges of her mouth with her head thrown back, letting the air fill her lungs and kick back in her senses.

The soft caress of Klaus' hand on the back of her head made her look down again, at his face that had her saying she knew what an angel looks like.

The black oblivion in his eyes that promised her a soulmate to spend the rest of eternity with sucked her in. Soon she was turning into corner after corner in a labyrinth, beginning to race in the fear that she was being chased until she found herself leaning against a wall while Klaus pulled on the laces of her corset, pulling hard enough to make Y/n suspicious that he just intended to pull her into him.

She looked into the mirror and caught a glimpse of his smirk, squinting at him when he met her gaze in their reflection.

"I really wish you could accompany me on the ride to the masquerade," she whispered, closing her eyes when she felt his fingers tap their way to the clasp of her necklace and lock it properly.

"I am your escort at the ball, love," he sighed, kissing the back of her head. "Have trust in me, you'll be fine," he murmured against her hair, smelling the faint scent of white Lilies and apples.

Far from the smell of the decaying bodies that he'd have to pass on his way to the city of New Orleans in a short while, though.

Y/n shut her eyes, wanting to protest that nothing when she's left behind, all on her own, stays fine. Instead, she gave a tight nod and turned to cup his face in her palms.

"Miss me," she grinned against the deep maroon of his lips, her laugh echoing when he kissed her passionately. And then she sighed, feeling the silage, her hand tracing the impression made in space where Klaus was once standing; now gone.

Sighing, she trailed down the stairs noiselessly -- it was an art she'd perfected during her time in the isolated estate.

She lit a lantern because despite it being daytime, not even a ray of light fell to the dead ground through the heavy fog that seemed to have settled on their property overnight.

Y/n shook her head, forcing herself to get out of her head and to fix the ragged rhythm of her breathing. While at that, she noticed a cobweb in the corner of the ceiling, instantly making a mental note to get Klaus to clean it up. She'd never felt an attachment to the spiders, though she respected their talent of weaving so masterfully and passionately.

Not enough to not ruin their work, though.

With faintly trembling hands, she picked the lantern off the dining table that could host an entire committee. She turned to walk back over to the main door, eyes settled on the minute details carved into the mansion's main door frame.

Forgetting the keys on the hook screwed to the wall, she looked closely, like she did every single day in the hopes of finding something new. Something tugged at the corner of her mouth when she caught a rose with a dagger stabbed through its middle, designed intricately into the door’s handle.

Smiling in satisfaction, she backed away and – the keys were gone. Y/n had seen them hung on the corner-most hook out the five, but now all of them were empty.

"The house spirits don't want you to leave," whispered her grandmother.

Y/n's head snapped to her side, the door was closed, the air still.

"Leave out some honey for them, perhaps, you can negotiate," she chuckled dryly, and Y/n scrambled to do as told before something more precious was taken from her; even though her grandmother has been dead for centuries and only talks to her when she's alone.

Almost dropping the plate in her hurry, Y/n slid the honey filled utensil in the middle of the table before rushing out of the door.

She exhaled sharply, almost choking on her own saliva as she raced away from the mansion, unable to calm herself down as the image of the keys hung on the hook right before she shut the door with her eyes widened in fear, flashed across her mind.

Klaus had only been away for a half an hour and already things were beginning to take a sinister turn. She took a shuddering breath, forcing her mind to focus on Klaus so that the stone inside her chest doesn't burst into a million tiny shards and she ends up dead because of a thousand cuts.

She brought up the lantern to her eyesight and sighed -- the flame had gone out somewhere amidst her rush.

But she had been in the woods before, she knew her way like the patterns in Klaus' hair. Smiling to manipulate herself, she strolled forward, eyes settled on the trees.

The acres of land on which the mansion stood like a ship on ocean waves, was tucked away under the thick fog when Y/n turned around to see it. But even in the dark blurriness, Y/n saw the tiny flowers dotted throughout the open fields. They were going to die soon, she sighed and walked on.

Then she began to run to catch a leaf that the wind plucked off of a tree.

Some dead, some changing colours, some still green while others had already transitioned into shades of orange or brown. All of the trees would all be lifeless soon, with no leaves or flowers on them, and Y/n will once again find comfort in the death that will encapsulate everything around her.

Maybe eat some of the pomegranates off the trees that will still be bearing some happiness in order to taunt her existence.

Far away in the distant, Y/n could see more huge estates. They seemed abandoned, worn, lived in by ghouls and frustrated spirits. She wondered if sprites and pixies ever giggled away nights in the unkempt properties, but she stole her gaze from the architectures before they could lure her in.

To spend her time alone feeling as normal as she could, she began to think of the love of her life, of Klaus and of how they came to be. And it began something like this...

It was the year 1047 in Russia, and the colour in Y/n's face had settled so deep that there was no life left in her skin.

She traced her cheeks, eyes widely aghast as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. There was nothing under her skin, except for an unsettling silence. There was no rush of blood, or thrumming of her anxious heart so loud in her ears that she felt like she was going to die, instead of smiling at the reminder that she was still alive.

She wished now though, that she had celebrated when her heartbeats came to stutters because she couldn't breathe. Because now, as she tried to find a pulse, she slipped her hand from her neck to the skirts of her gown.

There was nothing in her to prove that she wasn't a living corpse. Her skin was cold, hardened and ridden of all colours.

This couldn't have been. She wasn't a human anymore, and the more she saw of herself, the more rumours about Vampires echoed in her mind. If she was a vampire, then she quickly needed to find another one to survive. And she needed to flee town in order to escape her father, who would probably not even realise her absence in the misery of remembering her late mother.

So, with erratic breathing, she'd rushed back to her room and pulled out the one big handbag she had. She threw in as much as she could, including a large shawl, her night clothes, her warm woollen as well as her silk hood. She rolled two of her dresses somehow to fit, and ran to steal a bottle of her father's brandy and some camphor. He wouldn't know until he would run out of his current bottle, and Y/n won't be there to blame or to conspire with then.

Chanting under her breath for God's mercy, she ran into her bathroom and gathered all of her essentials such as tooth and nail brushes, soap, hairbrush, hairpins, her handy mirror and a towel off the hook.

Hungry because of her state of extreme breathlessness and panic, she packed some crackers and the sandwiches she had made earlier in her lunch and closed the chain of the bag. It was going to be hard to run with it on her arm, but she knew that what would be more hard was death.

She was going to be seen as the thing at the feast or at the sacrifice, and then, she wasn't even going to be seen because people would either burn her or bury her alive. And there was a possibility that she could take one wrong step, and the rumour that was a vampire's existence, would become more of a reality – which would lead to mass murder, of the hiding vampires and likely some innocents who had done no wrong in life but suffer at the hands of it.

She ran through the streets in the middle of the day, where everyone was too busy or too ignorant to be concerned about her. Her house was fairly close to the state of Kievan Rus' and she cried tears of joy for God's blessing as she ran, surprisingly not out of breath.

She ran with the wind throughout the day and night, as silently as she could, not wanting to draw any attention until she reached her destination. And it was on the third morning that she finally came to a stop on the land of Kyiv Koenugarr, the capital of the state that stood on the Dnieper River, the one that flowed to the Black Sea.

For the first time in three days, she smiled. Her breaths came to a faint pace as she stopped by in one of the guest houses to clean up. She knew that she needed to look good enough to convince the one person she had hoped in her heart would help her escape.

She didn't need to rest to get even a blink of sleep, but just out of old habit, she lay down on the soft bedding and shut her eyes to stop the racing of her mind. She could think when she wasn't so much on the edge regarding the fact that she didn't even feel burnt out after so much.

The corners of her eyes moistened as she realised that she wouldn't be missed back home. Maybe the little boy who lived next door would be saddened, but he would forget her too. He was too small to remember disappearance, Y/n hoped. She should have said goodbye to him at least, but maybe that was supposed to be her life's regret.

When the sun came back up, Y/n pulled out the one dress she had laid under the mattress during the night in hopes of getting it a bit decent and dressed herself. She put colour on her mouth and on her cheeks, and kohl on her eyelashes while hinting some of it on the line above.

She needed to look good for this, in case she had to do some convincing or begging. She hoped that she could just threaten, but she wouldn't do that to him who she essentially considered her brother.

She rubbed the one herbal mixture that she had on herself in some places and the fragrance of Saffron, Rosemary and Musk hit her senses all at once. Centering herself, she packed her bag again and began her stroll to find a cart, to where she knew he would be.

"I need to go to the docks!" She shouted over the harsh wind at the man, and he urged her to climb into the cart. "Thank you," she said now that she was behind him.

He nodded and began to move forward, going faster with the help of the forceful wind. It didn't seem like the man minded silence too much, so she kept quiet much to her liking and began an inner monologue to decide how she was going to ask him.

The time passed quicker than she could come to a conclusion though, so she stepped off and handed the man a kuna with a gentle nod for a thank you. She hoped she could find a mirror to maybe fix her hair a bit but she was found too soon for that convenience.

"And what in the world are you doing here?"

He asked, a frown and a smile adorning his features at the same time.

Happiness surged through her body like a gust of wind at seeing his face. It felt like he'd almost lifted her spirits.

"Nikolai!"

She rushed over to him, wrapping her arms around him as tightly as she could. She giggled when he began to swerve the two of them from side to side.

"You're clearly here for a reason so how about you tell me before I set off?" He said, nodding his head towards the awaiting ship.

A worry settled deep in her stomach. She began fidgeting.

"Will you take me with you?" She asked in a whisper because she knew how absurd this might sound to him.

He gripped her shoulders a little tighter.

"The ships are full of Vikings, Y/n. Don't be a fool," he gritted, his fingers leaving a wrinkle on the puff of her dress' sleave.

"But you are going to be with me, so I'll be fine!" She insisted.

Nikolai pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

Sighing, he began, "why do you want to go to Europe all of a sudden?"

She swallowed. "To start over, you know? And it sounds nice over there, a change would be good," she shrugged.

Y/n knew that he could sense her lying but when he didn't press her about it, she took a breath of relief.

Nikolai turned to walk, but just because of her nature, she gripped his arm from behind.

When he turned with intrigue, and saw worry settled in her big eyes, he hugged her again.

"I'll take care of you like my little sister, Solnishko (sunshine)," he whispered against her hair, and Y/n shut her eyes to force herself calm down. She had known him since her childhood, and she knew deep down that she trusted him more than she trusted her own father.

Backing away a couple steps, she let him take her bag from her hand. Squaring her shoulders, Y/n nodded, which Nikolai copied.

They shared a glint of excitement and nervousness in their gazes and passed each other a wide grin before making a run for the ship that was going to leave any minute now.

Y/n hadn't realised that while deep in her memory, she had come to a halt in front of the frozen lake. So when she heard the crunch of leaves, while she stood alone and completely still, her head whipped to scan her surroundings.

No one, in sight. Y/n knew better than to not trust her intuition so she focused in on all of her senses, there was no smell of blood, no sound of a beating heart, no sight of anyone, no feeling other than of being watched and nothing to touch but her own cold skin.

It had to be a vampire, if anyone.

With an unease, she started on her walk back home. She knew she could face whoever it was and get it over within seconds. But when she reached home unharmed, she felt like she might've just been going insane since she was alone.

She felt insane a lot of the time that she was alone, so with frustration settling deep in her belly, she went over to the room that she had locked the entire oblivion in. The library room.

Most of the books were read there, but when Klaus returned from his entrepreneurial ventures, he always brought back with him some new ones that he just had an instinct she was going to love. And she did mostly end up loving the stories so much that it felt as if they’d claimed a part of her – she'd never tell that to Klaus though, since he might just destroy all literature in the mansion in order to keep her all to himself.

Her eyes glanced at the two stopped clocks in the room and she shook her head because of the reminder that they might as well be haunted since she can't get them to work right for more than two sunsets.

As she sank in the deep green sofa with a worn hardback in her lap, a deep melancholy took over her. Her body felt so weak to the bones that it could've decomposed right there on the expensive furniture.

Suddenly, her grandmother, dressed in all black appeared at the doorway of the room. Y/n thought she had closed the door behind her.

The old woman walked in like she was silently praying on a child in a game to catch her, and stopped right in front of Y/n whose eyes felt hooded and a little too heavy. She took her hand and dropped something from her fist into her open palm.

Y/n brought it back to see for herself, and a gurgling sound escaped from her throat. She choked back on her saliva as the word 'MONSTER' was beginning to slowly be engraved in her palm, the inscription cutting her skin so deep that she fell off the sofa in pain, gripping her hand tightly as she tried to escape, and ended up falling on her bed.

With heavy breaths wreaking havoc inside her lungs, Y/n wiped the cold sweat on her skin on the bed sheets as she turned to lie on Klaus' side of bed. Inhaling deeply, she kept her eyes shut while her entire body shook in tremors and her mind began to show her the flashes of her sweet, well cherished moments spent with her head tucked away in Klaus' chest.

She really wished she could have a drop of his blood, then. Saliva pooled on her tongue, but she swallowed thickly, not allowing herself even the thought of taking a sip from the bottle that he always left behind for her.

—--

It was the 18th century, and Y/n didn't know quite know how to feel when the Pope declared her species as fallacious fictions of humankind. She had sighed deeply, breathing out the tension in her frame as she prepared herself to live a life without chewing her fingers ever again – not because people had potentially known of Vampire's existence, but because she was too paranoid to not fear somehow getting wound up in the theories and be burned on the stake only for her ashes to be fed to some sick family man considered bitten by a vampire.

But she'd also felt her lifeless heart be struck by sadness upon the realisation that she might not ever be accepted by anyone apart from her own species -- who had the foul habit of keeping itself so secretive that Y/n began feeling lonely even in a room full of people.

Then the 19th century rolled around, arguably the worst time period for a human to be alive according to Y/n. She seemed to have a realisation that if this century was going to be associated with one thing, it would be diseases and deaths.

Everyone in the town was always sick and someone was dying each hour. The ones who weren't actively dying, were so obsessed with the notion of death they essentially manifested it in their fate.

Tired of the ongoing death streak, Y/n ran away to the English Countryside. But because she was too lonely and had too much of the torturous time on her hands, she began to despise the fact that she was never going to have the peace that came with death, with the end – ever.

Feeling like she was going to kill herself if she spent another fleeting second in her own company, she found herself back in the main city, preoccupying herself among the aristocrats.

Then years later, the last Vampire Scare occurred in the late 19th century. While people weren't quick to put labels, the town affairs spread in whispers sounding similar to the fluttering wings of a Goldfinch.

But then, when the horrors of Vampires finally bit the dust, being declared as nothing but a myth blew out the one final flicker of hope inside Y/n's chest that longed for connections where the humans would tell her about their history and their folklores themselves instead of her having to read their biassed books in which they painted a portrait using their best colours.

No matter how much she hated being a myth, Y/n loved reading stories about the blood-sucking Roman vampires, and the German Nachzehrer, who harmed the living through "sympathetic magic" from afar.

Y/n loved to debate with Klaus just like humans did with each other, upon who were the English Vampires most like -- The Romanians or The Germans. All because it seemed to be a hot topic among the historians, folklorists, theologists and who not, that like Romanians, New Englanders "were looking for liquid blood in the vital organs, not evidence of shroud chewing." The anti-vampire remedy of "cutting the heart out, burning it to ashes and feeding the ashes to the sick ones" was also something that was practiced in Romania.

But what quite disgusted Y/n was the fact that the sole reason humans even knew of Vampires was because they were brainless and attracted diseases like flowers honey bees during springtime; and also because they feared the said diseases and desired to have control over it in some way, or at least to feel like they did.

Since then, whenever a new resurgence of ‘Vampires are real’ rumours flowed, Y/n chose to ignore it. Because in the current day and age, the resurfacing of the supernatural was simply because of its glorification and romanticisation in the literature; and of course, just an human’s itch to dig into the past.

—--

The music echoed throughout the mansion as Y/n's fingers danced across the keys of the grand piano. There weren't any notes sitting on top for Y/n to read from, she was simply playing what she'd known and what was coming to her as she played.

Moonlight poured in through barred windows that stood on the grounds and touched the ceilings. Something in the back of her mind was telling her that someone was watching her, but she ignored the warning sign, tired of her hallucinations and tired of trying to decipher between what was real and what wasn't.

Her own mind playing tricks on her wasn't something she dealt with very well. It felt like a betrayal, by whom, she couldn't tell. But it was unfair, that not everyone had to constantly decipher their experiences as real or not.

In the moment, all she knew was that as long as the music was flowing and she was hitting the notes remarkably well, she and everything surrounding her was real. Though she'd been told that her playing could bring the dead back, she tried not to think about it.

Frustrated because of the nagging thought of having a watcher, Y/n wondered if the pressing of her fingers on the keys will ever not be soothing for her. Gradually, she felt something rushing within her, something taking over her senses as the sounds hit the tall walls and reverberated back into her ears with violent vibrations that she hated to feel – she felt overcome.

Her fingers started to move on their own, quickening the pace when she reached the beat drop and realised, the answer was yes.

She pulled herself back from the grand piano like it had electrocuted her. Wild eyes and frantic breathing, Y/n waited for the silence to settle and encapsulate her.

Standing up, she took hold of the candelabra that had been sitting on the top of the piano, and climbed up the stairs in the candle's unreliable, flickering light. There was no light in this part of the mansion, the moonlight didn't reach in the back and Y/n felt a breath down her spine as she opened the library room's door.

She didn't walk in right away though. She spared a wry glance to her right, at the other room’s door that was locked. It was night time and she didn't want to be flooded with the horrifying memories of her past that was withheld in that room. But still, the images of Klaus draining bodies in that very room flashed in front of her eyes – causing her to clench them shut and skip inside the library without a second thought.

Picking up the book she'd dropped on the floor earlier, she shut the door quietly and held the skirts of her dress in order to make a run towards the master bedroom. She felt safe in the company of the candle's flame that hadn't gone out in her hurry and she sat in her bed, no longer scared and no longer around; transported into a realm where she was a little human girl skidding through the forest wearing a red cloak, on the way to her grandmother's home when she comes across a sly wolf!

—--

Y/n was standing just outside the door, hiding behind the wall with a cloth to her mouth. Sobs threatened to leave her mouth similarly to how the tears were escaping her eyes, sliding down her cheeks and falling into pools on the ancient flooring.

Sounds of mouths biting into necks, tearing through skin and splintering bones echoed through the chambers. The halls of the mansion were built like those of Cathedrals, tall in order to make a sound boom and echo.

She clenched her eyes shut when another body fell to the ground, lifeless. Daring to peek inside despite her fragile heart, Y/n's mouth fell open as the scene unfolded in front of her.

Klaus was sitting on the one and only chair in the room, looking nothing less than a king sitting on his throne. In front of him, the rest of the hall was full of vampires – sucking on each other.

Some had bitten into another's wrist while they were being fed upon at their neck. Every single soulless body standing in the room had its teeth bared, looking for a life to take whilst theirs was already being drained away by one of their own.

"Faster!" Klaus roared and everyone began to draw blood from one another as if their life depended on it.

Which it did according to what Y/n heard next.

"Remember puppies, if you wish to live, you'll have to drain as many bodies as you can!" He spoke loudly, a wide malicious grin on his mouth.

Y/n sank low upon the grounds, frozen until her eyes met with one of the vampires.

A blood-curdling scream escaped her throat and Y/n felt like all of the blood was rushing to her head. She clutched it, lowering further into the ground in hopes of diminishing the pain but her vision began to fade instead.

She saw Klaus watching her, held for ransom by fate as Y/n fell to the ground, her last sight being of the vampires still feeding like they were at a feast.

When she woke up, Klaus was sitting at the foot of the bed. A book in his hands but not a word was he able to utter when she asked him what the book was about.

He shut it and tossed it across the bed, holding the bridge of his nose as Y/n looked at him through hooded eyes.

"I asked you of one thing," he began. "I asked you not to walk by the room until dusk."

His teeth were clenched, and Y/n could tell by the waver in his voice that he was trying with all of his might to not smash the furniture in the room.

She hoped that he would keep trying, that she wouldn't have to see the black in his eyes represent the devil rather than the peaceful oblivion she saw in them because she wanted to spend it with him.

"Then why, tell me love, were you there?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child," Y/n croaked out, stealing her gaze from him to look away.

"But what you did was childish!"

"And you were a monster!" Y/n shouted, now sitting up in the bed with her fists clenching the mattress.

Klaus stood still for a moment, then scoffed.

"I'm the monster?" He asked, his voice so light it sent a wave of regret through Y/n's chest.

"Klaus --"

"No, Y/n," Klaus swallowed, now pacing across the room. "They tried to steal you from me and I'm the one being called the monster for doing to them little of what they deserve for the horror they put you through."

"Klaus, you didn't need to take the blood on your hands. I would've taken my revenge, and you know that," Y/n said.

"Alright then. Fair enough," nodding, Klaus came to a halt. "Let's put it this way – I took my revenge because I love you and I thought I lost you. That thought pained me to the point of no comparison so I took my revenge," he shrugged.

"If you desire, you can take your revenge. I'm sure they are still alive with the speed that they seemed to have lost," Klaus gestured back towards the room.

Y/n clenched her eyes shut. "Lock the room, Klaus," she asked him.

With a faint nod of acceptance, Klaus locked the door to the room where most of the vampires had fallen to the floor, dead. The last ones sucking raced when they saw Klaus and fell to the floor with a thump once the last drop of blood was drunk from their bodies.

Drawing the doors shut, Klaus put a humongous lock on the door and took a step back. He knew what Y/n was going to ask of him when he 'd return, so with a final breath, Klaus decided that among those vampires, Klaus had also locked his own demons inside.

Y/n's head rose when she saw him stroll back into the master bedroom.

"Promise me that you'll never take a life ever again," she whispered.

Klaus nodded, looking into her eyes with honesty so bright it could've blinded her.

"And if you do, do it after you take mine," Y/n spoke stiffly. "Or I'll take yours."

Klaus dropped to his knees beside her side of the bed to hold her hand.

"You have my word," he spoke hoarsely, leaning in just enough that Y/n had to come the rest of the way to meet his mouth.

"I love you," she whispered against his mouth. "I cannot lose you to your demons."

"I love you, too,” Klaus said, stopping when his voice wavered. “And you know that you are my only reason," he smiled, letting her push him back on the bed.

—--

Y/n woke up with excitement fluttering through her entire being. It was brighter than the previous day, she noticed. But all of the mist was still sitting around so Y/n drew her curtains apart and opened the windows.

The cold wind carried with it the smell of pomegranate flowers, making Y/n smile.

Squaring her shoulders, she looked into the void outside, wishing Klaus was beside her to experience the beauty of dragonflies dancing around on top of the flowers sprinkled throughout the fields.

Orange and red scenery was not unmet by her eyes when she squinted. A lot of the trees had turned now, and Y/n wondered why they decided to turn just a little earlier than usual.

She wrapped herself in her robe and walked throughout the house, opening all the windows and drawing curtains to let the light pour in. She felt calm, especially since the past couple of days had been extraordinarily troublesome for her.

Back in her library room, Y/n picked up the neat letter that had been sitting on her desk. It was the letter of the ball invitation sent via the Salvatore Sons, and Y/n was more than giddy to finally meet Klaus there.

Most humble citizens of the realm, You are hereby requested to attend a masquerade ball in honour of the thirtieth marriage anniversary of our dearest Lilian Salvatore and Guiseppe Salvatore, the radiant couple -- also respected members of the founder's council of Mystic Falls. Costumes and masks will be strictly required for entry, and each couple must bring a gift. This sophisticated affair will be a tantalising and stylish celebration with a feast, dancing and competitions. You all will delight in the wondrous, safe atmosphere of Castle Harrowgate. The gates of Castle Harrowgate shall be opened at first dusk in two days' time, and you are expected to be punctual. Dictated but not read Damon and Stefan Salvatore.

While Y/n wasn't one for gatherings, she could appreciate a ball every once in a while. She felt a bit of dread pooling inside of her at the thought of meeting the Salvatores, who had known of her and Klaus while she hadn't known of their mere existence.

Still, she walked across the mansion and picked some flowers the whole morning. In the afternoon, she wrote a poem and read some chapters of her current read that was of her beloved genre, gothic horror.

Once the sun had begun getting tired, though, Y/n slipped into her room and sat in front of her vanity. It still felt a little foreign to her, she wouldn't lie. That doesn't mean she didn't find it infinitely convenient.

She applied rose water on her face first and then rubbed some cream on the skin in order to make her skin look just a little more alive than a corpse's. It brought a certain shine to her face, she thought.

Then she dabbed some light coloured starch on her face in order to even out her complexion, though she didn't quite need to. She was simply following a makeup routine she had learnt from a lady while she had been out in the towns a few months ago, when the sun was overhead and blinding.

She smiled a little tightly as she put some maroon powder on the top of her cheeks, making her look like she had a heart and blood circulation under her skin. Smiling genuinely at her reflection in the mirror, she looked away just before she could begin to point out her flaws.

Lastly, she dabbed some lip tint on her mouth in a way that made her lips look bitten rather than painted.

Tying her own corset for her dress was troublesome enough that she had broken a sweat whilst she'd been at it. Patting cotton all over her face in annoyance, she fixed the ruffles of her dress for the last time.

The colour of the dress was similar to that of the darkest emerald out there, and upon it were drawn complex patterns in all shades of green that went best with the gown's colour.

She had her hair in a low bun sitting on the nape of her neck, the lowest of her hair strands falling out into coils just a couple inches lower. A flowery crown sat on top of her bun like a crown made out of golden oak leaves, the crystals reflecting the sunlight all over the room.

Anxious that she was likely forgetting something, she took hold of her purse and carried in her other hand the gift she had chosen to give – a thick and rich blanket, along with other trinklets and fruits and nuts. She'd also added a tobacco pouch or two in there.

She rushed out of the mansion and sped to the main street, where she accepted herself in a carriage. Once she was sat, she took a deep breath.

Although gradually she realised that the cold sweat she'd broken earlier wasn't because she had been racing around.

It was because subconsciously, she felt like there was a stone sitting inside her chest, one other than her heart. It was heavy, and sharp too. Something was going to go wrong, her guts screamed. She had an instinct that she was going to die that evening, but she ignored all and focused on the dying scenery around her as the carriage raced further.

It was a masquerade ball, surely she'd be able to fool death if it happened to be there as well. 

When the carriage turned into a lane, and Y/n saw the mansion; a shiver ran down her spine. It was eerily quiet there, no one in sight and no sounds of a gathering filling the atmosphere.

The castle’s walls stood tall, with tinted windows. It looked like a secretive fortress, with its additional dark towers and iron gates.The sun light didn’t reach the estate very well, and it was all shades of dark – with not even a barren tree in its circumference. 

Had she come too early, she wondered and checked her pocket watch. She was just a few minutes late, actually. Maybe people weren't so punctual anymore, she shouted back at her alarmed instincts.

She looked up at the sky which was darkening as the sun was setting. But it was full of heavy clouds drifting slowly, waiting for the right time to bring hell on land.

In the time that she came face to face with the castle, she tried to focus on her hearing. But she couldn't hear any heartbeats, nor any quietened gossip floating around. It was more silent than Y/n had noticed it was underwater during the summer.

Clutching her shawl in clenched fists, she stepped off the carriage. Handing the man a couple pennies and thanking him, she waited as he backed away until out of the sight.

Then she finally turned her gaze onto the Castle Harrowgate, and as she began to feel like it was all a trap, she realised that might as well already be in one.

Klaus had told her that he would meet her by the time the ball would start, to accompany her for the dance since he couldn't imagine sharing with another man the pleasure of dancing with his wife. And upon checking the watch once again, Y/n remembered that the gates must have been opened about half an hour ago.

So, to see no footprints outside the muddy path covered with cobblestones stood out to her. She squinted her eyes, unsure if she'd be able to make a run for it now.

Y/n was better than that though, she could fight an army of vampires if she wanted to with her original strength. But to be wearing a gown and heels, with a gift bag in one hand and a purse in the other, Y/n wasn't sure if she wanted to get blood sprayed all over herself.

Sensing eyes on her, she searched the windows to see even a shadow. But there was none. It was the same feeling as the one she'd gotten when she'd been in the forest a couple days prior, feeling like she was being preyed upon.

She gulped dryly, praying to a god she didn't believe existed that the cowards behind this plan would be willing to talk this through. She didn't wish to be anyone's death, nor did she wish to die herself. She did, occasionally, but now as she felt like death was breathing down her neck, she felt like taking another sip of life before going to bed.

As she walked further and crossed the threshold of the castle, she felt wind move behind her before she could've seen past the open gates.

She screamed but a hand was covering her mouth and as she tried to remind herself that she was a vampire and didn't need to be frightened, her vision began to fade inwards until she could see nothing but the death's cousin – that is sleep.

When she gained back her senses again, she knew that she was in a lot of trouble. She still couldn't see, but she could smell the vampires who had probably noticed her consciousness by now. She could hear them bickering that had come to a sudden halt. She could feel someone standing right beside her in a second and she could touch the chains that she'd been tied up with.

It was raining heavily outside, probably so angrily that it would feel like there were millions of needles being dropped on your skin, all at once, if one happened to be out in it. 

Her arms were stinging since they'd been tied up on the two sides. She was on her knees, bent over because of weakness. At least she hoped that's what they thought she felt. Her hair was falling on her face and over her shoulder – how had it slipped out of a tight bun, she wondered and came to the conclusion that it must have happened when she'd struggled against the man's chest while he'd had her in a chokehold with vervain held right over her nose.

Had she been in his place, she'd have burned the skin off the captive's face. She smiled at the kindness these people had shown her.

"Glad you'll finally be put out of the misery of living your immortal life?" Someone spoke from across the room, a man. Likely middle aged, she assumed.

"Glad to finally meet you, Guiseppe," Y/n smirked when the man's breathing stuttered just a bit. "Though I wish it hadn't been this way."

"A lovely mouth you've got with a lovely face," said a younger voice. "Too bad that all the fortune would go to waste."

Y/n chuckled, then choked because of the dryness in her throat. "Mark my words when I say that this will be the very mouth that'll rip your throat out, Salvatore" she shrugged, unsure whether it was Stefan or Damon that she was talking to.

"C'mon, you can't possibly be delusional enough to hope you're going to get out of this one!" Said the same voice, quietened by a clearing of the throat.

The window shutters were rattling, and a couple of animals were howling outside. 

"Damon, bring a chair for me, will you?" Said Guiseppe.

Y/n laughed at that; her head was thrown back. "Since when do you care so much that your child might witness a murder?"

"Oh, trust me hon, death doesn't even bother me no more," Damon joked and Y/n grinned. It would be a petty to shut that humourous mouth forever six feet deep into the ground.

"Damon, go," said a handsome voice.

It was silent for a moment and all of Y/n's senses were working relentlessly. But the most she could hear was the ongoing storm outside, thunder rolling like death was on its own carriage, coming down to take Y/n with it.

The thought of whether she had served her purpose in her life was fleeting. But then she began to ponder, if only humans were allowed to deal with existentialism, and whether it was satirical for her to even be thinking that she might just have a meaning to her life.

But then she drifted off to think of her immortality. All her life, she'd never dared to ponder over it – afraid she might begin to have the urge to kill herself. Had she made anything out of having a life that'd never end?

Did she need to do that? Did she really need a reason or a purpose to live? Or since being an immortal, she had to pay the loan by giving this world her all?

But before she could start to lose her mind, she was snapped back to reality.

“I only saw you from the back, in the forest and from outside your mansion,” said the same handsome voice before he chuckled. Y/n’s breathing came to halt – she had been right.

“But sweetheart, you seem like the devil carved you himself – so dangerously beautiful,” he whispered under his breath. 

When Y/n didn’t say anything, wanting for him to continue admitting all that he’d done, the young one laughed. 

"We aren't going to kill you, by the way,” said he who Y/n was beginning to assume was Stefan.

"Too bad that I will, once I'm out of these shackles."

Y/n genuinely was disappointed. She wanted to cry because she hadn't even thought about this possibly being a trap, and she hated herself for it. And she also hated the fact that these people found it so entertaining, the way they'd played her.

Feeling pathetic, she manipulated herself to turn her sadness into ferocious rage. She couldn't let these men take advantage of her.

Someone laughed, and Y/n smiled. She wanted them to believe that she couldn't help herself out of the chains.

"We just want Klaus," Damon said as if he was bored out of his wits. "You see, he loves you. Surely, he'll trace you here. Then we'll capture him, toy with him, kill him and ponder what to do with your beauty."

Y/n wasn't feeling too sarcastic anymore. She wanted to skin these men alive and hang them upside down to be eaten alive by the crows. But she contained herself with a deep breath.

"You've seen so much of my beauty, it'll only be fair if I got to see yours," she proposed and waited in silence as someone walked over and removed the blindfold from her face.

Squinting, she saw Guiseppe, who looked like he wanted to kill himself. Then she saw Damon, who looked exactly like he talked and Stefan, who was as handsome as his smooth voice.

"Handsome, you two," she nodded at the younger men. "Surely you've got your looks from your stunning mother," she added.

Damon snickered and Stefan glared at him.

"You know, since Klaus met you, his heart has clearly grown quite faint. And we have been sitting, bored, for too long now. It would be nice to have somethings stirred up, yea?"

Y/n shivered as the dark room lit up when lightning stroked the sky.

"Oh, you don't play games with the wily devil," she cautioned, lowering her voice just to exaggerate although everyone in the room was on edge, knowing she'd spoken nothing if not the utter truth.

"Too late to back out now, though," a glowering voice came from right outside the locked doors of what Y/n could only assume was a dungeon or a chamber of some sort.

She grinned, quickly scanning the three men's faces to relish in their fear. Damon's sharp eyes were now wide open, waiting for his death to come any second now. Stefan was standing in a stance, ready to fight although he knew he didn't stand a chance.

And Guiseppe had broken cold sweat, his breathing was so heavy Y/n almost missed the erratic beating of his heart.

Klaus was here, she could imagine him standing behind the door solely for the suspense, fully capable of breaking down the door into shambles.

He kicked once, and the doors came falling inwards, Damon stepping back just in time for the wood to splinter on the floor in front of him.

When Y/n's eyes met with Klaus', she urged him to turn around. But then she flinched when Klaus missed her indication and was hit by a vase on the nape of his neck.

He fell to the ground. crouching for only a second before he'd disappeared.

The three men searched frantically, turning and twisting in distress.

Y/n saw him racing towards her and she opened her arms, letting him carry her. He situated her on the floor above, behind the railings.

“Are you alright?” He asked frantically, searching her over for any signs of injuries. But Y/n cupped his face and kissed him, reassuring him that she wasn’t wounded.

"Don't look," he asked of her earnestly, knowing the effect it could potentially have on her later on. "For me," he breathed.

Y/n pecked his mouth, then. Resting her lips on his until there was only Klaus' scent in front of her instead of him. She stumbled back and slid down a wall, sitting down and burrowing her head in her knees.

"Prepare your riffles!" Guiseppe shouted at the group of men filling the room urgently.

Guns were cocked and sat on men's shoulders, their fingers on the triggers, ready to shoot to kill.

"Where's --" Albert was cut off by a gust of air, during which he disappeared. He was one of the men, the most determined of them all and still the one with the most thirst for life.

Damon turned and saw for himself the chains to which he had tied Y/n, now lying on the grounds, wrapped around Albert's throat. His eyes were wide open, not a sparkle of life left in them.

Swallowing, Damon knocked his elbow into Stefan's ribs. When he hissed in response, Damon shut him up by pointing towards the dead body.

Both of the boys were now looking towards their father with the same hatred they glared at him with every day. He was going to be the reason behind their deaths. They thought of fleeing at the same point, unaware of each other's notions but both were too full of pride to die a coward.

They knew that if they ran, they had a higher chance of dying.

It was silent again, the only sounds in the room being rapidly beating hearts being interrupted by the rolling thunder outside.

Someone pulled the trigger, and when everyone saw, the bullet had passed through the middle of his own forehead. It was Frank, the one who had come to fight quite reluctantly.

Many men were thinking of fleeing now.

"You didn't tell us that the vampires could do this!" Bert gritted near Guiseppe's ear. He was now hopeless for he was never going to get to take walks near his favourite lake ever again.

"You'll be more responsible for our deaths than these goddamn monsters," shouted young James from across the room. He has just gotten married and wanted to have children, raise them up to be as strong as their mother.

Guiseppe was getting more and more frantic now, he could see his death waiting around the corner for him. The sweat rolling down his back was too cold, and his heart felt like it was going to burst inside of his chest.

Nothing was going how he had planned it.

James also disappeared then, and upon noise, everyone saw that his body was hanging off the humongous chandelier, the blood from the open wound on his neck dripping down on men's faces and on the floor. The sound of the blood pooling was ringing in everyone's ears and they all moved out of the way quickly, wiping off the blood on them with the cuffs of their shirts.

Metallic scent of the blood was beginning to suffocate everyone. Choking sounds were heard before William was thrown to a wall, also dead. He was a master at playing cards.

"Run everyone and set the room on fire!" Shouted Bert, but then his head was smashed off his shoulders and his body was swaying around, before it fell to the ground, writhing a little more before going still.

Now only Damon, Stefan and Guiseppe were left alive in the room. The two younger ones looked at each of the lifeless bodies, then at each other.

"God, I want to kill you two before they get a chance!" Guiseppe roared and bent to steal the gun from Bert's hands.,

But before he could pull the trigger, his head was pulled back and a knife sliced his throat.

The two boys howled in agony and covered their faces when Guiseppe's blood sprayed all over them.

When nothing more happened, they opened their eyes and saw Y/n still holding onto their father, the knife still in her bloodied hands.

Dropping the body then, Y/n looked at them regretfully.

She had to come out since Klaus had to take a second to keep his wolf at bay and the old twat was going to shoot his sons. She didn't mind witnessing the three men's deaths at all though. Surely, they must've prepared themselves for it when they'd been planning the entire betrayal.

"Sorry you had to see that," she muttered, stealing her gaze from their horrified ones. Or maybe from Klaus' eyes that shone golden from where he was standing right behind their backs.

She knew the two brothers' fates before they could've even battled whether to try and negotiate a deal or not.

One of the chains which she had been tied to earlier, was wrapped around Klaus' fist.

In the blink of her eyes, both of the brothers had begun choking. The same chain wrapped around their throats; their backs pressed together. If one tried to pull the chain away from their neck, the other brother would choke to death.

Damon was coughing out his spare breaths, panic widening his eyes so much that Y/n feared they might pop out of their sockets. His mouth was beginning to lose colour just like his skin. Still, there was the beg for another chance reddening his eyes, but Y/n switched her gaze onto Stefan.

He was wheezing heavily, his throat making loud creaky noises that Y/n, unfortunately, could recognise anywhere, at any time. He was dying faster than Damon, and his eyes were set on hers when they stopped moving.

As his body began to fall forward, the chain around Damon's neck tightened so tightly that his tongue protruded out of his mouth, eyes staring into the void, lifeless.

Y/n took a shuddering breath, then looked at Klaus.

"I'm sorry you had to do this," she whispered, crossing over the two dead bodies to cup his face.

It had been hard to have him feel solace with his existence without having the urge to kill. Almost like trying to get him clean off of a drug addiction.

This had been a relapse, then. And Y/n's stone-cold heart was trembling inside her chest in fear of losing him to the coping addiction again.

But then the golden rim of an eclipse melted like honey into the moss of his eyes, and they crinkled at the corners. He leaned in and rested his forehead on hers.

"This did not happen because of you, remember that," he whispered. "I needed to do this, or I wouldn't have been able to live with myself."

Y/n nodded solemnly. A tear rolled down her cheek.

"I love you," she sobbed, her body shaking as she pushed herself further into Klaus' chest, wanting to hide away from all that was surrounding her. "You are the remedy of all things."

"Always and forever, my love," Klaus smiled, wrapping his arms around her.

"Let's go home," he muttered into her hair and bent down to pick her up like he had on their wedding day.

"No carriages, since the driver will surely take us to the authorities upon seeing us doused in blood and have not a single wound at the same time," he grinned, laughing when she hit his chest.

"I was really excited for this ball," Y/n sighed. "I wish it didn't have to be this way."

"Me too, love," Klaus said, preparing to race through the small town along with the clear wind.

"But it was evanescent, wasn't it? This rage, this murderous urge – it was fleeting?" Y/n asked nervously, hopefully.

Klaus nodded faintly. "I'm offended you'd think I have such low control," he teased, and Y/n breathed a sigh of relief. “My love, this thirst has gone as quickly as it’d come,” he reassured her. 

"Didn't want to kill again but I'm guessing it was for the better, since no one would dare to forget about what the hybrid is capable of for a long time now," smirking, Klaus looked around at the mess he'd made.

“Now let’s go back home,” he smiled and Y/n’s eyes watered as she nodded. 

When Klaus had suspected foul play, he'd felt vontade; a strong desire to do something. So powerful had been his inner drive to remind everyone of his terror that he couldn't have helped himself. The thought of losing Y/n had been petrifying enough.

So, he kicked someone's decapitated head out of his way and strolled outside, already annoyed upon the realisation that in the morning, he’d have to hear about the harrowing news of the horrors found inside the Castle Harrowgate. 

[nyoomerr]

Luo Binghe Shimeji (Extended Version!)

a couple years ago, riladoo created an adorable binghe shime! he could be picked up and tossed around your computer screens, climb around on all your windows, multiply, and all the other cute things that come in the standard base shimeji set.

more recently, i reached out to riladoo with a commission request - more action sets for binghe! over the past couple months, riladoo has worked hard to make some adorable binghe art, and i've updated all the source code and config files to accommodate the new actions! 🎉

the extended action set includes: - a 'sit and eat' idle action - two 'head patting' actions when the mouse hovers over him - a 'fall and cry' action for when he falls from tall heights - a 'land nicely' action for when you place him down gently

the original binghe shime listing on riladoo's gumroad has been updated to have all these new actions, so go grab him now!! he's free / pay what you want! 🥰

i've put more details about the new action sets + general shimeji setup tips below the cut, but otherwise -- LET THE BINGHE COMPUTER INFECTION COMMENCE !!

**these extended actions only work on windows, not mac. sorry ;w; the original shime set has a mac version, though!

Extended Action Set Details

when you download the files from riladoo, you're looking for the .zip file labeled "Updated Shime code" !

sit and eat this is an idle action that will trigger randomly the same as any other idle action. if you want to trigger it manually, you can right click the shime -> 'set behavior' -> 'sit and eat'

head pats these are 'stay' actions that will trigger automatically when you hover your mouse over the shime. i recommend hovering your mouse over his head for maximum head-pat-effectiveness! unfortunately, this action won't play if the shime is actively climbing a wall/ceiling - maybe in the future this can be extended further, but for now there are only head patting actions for sitting and standing poses :>

falling variations (crying / default / land nicely) there are now a total of 3 'falling' actions. to see the 'fall and cry' action, allow binghe to fall from the top half of your monitor. to see the standard/original 'fall and trip' action, allow binghe to fall from the low-mid range portion of your monitor. to see the 'land nicely' action, gently place binghe down at the bottom of your monitor. this means you're rewarded for catching binghe when he falls off a window - if you catch him and set him down, he lands nicely, but if you let him fall normally, he'll start crying!! 🥰

Shimeji Installation Tips

if you've never had a shimeji before - don't worry, they're super easy to install! i recommend following this video tutorial created by the person who originally created the source code for shimeji. you can skip the parts about downloading the shimeji itself - you'll get that from riladoo's website :>

if you install everything but opening the shimeji executable does nothing, download jarfix to resolve this issue.

if you follow the tutorial and update the 'interactive windows' but the shime still doesn't stand/climb on the specified windows, restart your computer to resolve this issue. alternatively, make sure you don't have any 'unexpected' monitors plugged in - a friend of mine had their shime constantly falling down through their monitor onto their screen drawpad, which was confusing until it got figured out!

if you are on mac instead of windows.... i am so sorry i actually have no idea how to help 🙇‍♂️ the original/default binghe shimeji set DOES have a mac os folder in with the downloads, but i've never tested it (don't use mac), and even if it works, it won't include the extended actions (i didn't build an executable for mac with the new code).

More Questions???

feel free to hit me up! in the replies of this post / through DMs / send an ask - whatever is best for you. i'll tag any asks i get about the shime with #binghe shime chronicles so they get archived nicely. i got very familiar with all the source code / config files to get this lil guy set up with his extended actions, so hopefully i can answer any questions you have! 💪😤

that's all!! i am so happy w how the new actions turned out - the art riladoo did for them is SO cute! - and i hope y'all will be, too!

[37-drc89]

the way things go; lee minho

❁ nothing warms your heart more than his presence.

trope: roommates to lovers.

genre: comfort, slight angst, work exhaustion, happy ending.

summary: finally understanding that your failure doesn't scare him away.

warnings: blood, mention of overprotective parent, family problems, let me know if i should put anything more in here.

word count: 3,7k.

masterlist

note: this is very much my first fic here, like, ever. i'm still green in tumblr, any links and mostly making posts look good, but i'll eventually master it. i look forward to seeing your opinions and things i can change or make better, i'll appreciate every comment. and, please remember that english is not my first language! if you see any typo or something doesn't make sense, please inform me! thank you:)

Coming back home on Friday after whole week of working your ass off really feels like a walk of shame. You feel like everyone passing by can tell how awfully you did at your workplace today. And they wouldn't be wrong, the amount of scolds your boss threw in your direction through past few days is worryingly numerous.

Whether it was missing out on paper work your boss asked you to do for him, because you were so sure the deadline was set on the day after, or accidentially knocking off of your desk whole cup of hot, sweetened tea that later on you had to scrap off of the covering, under the strict eye of the middle aged man that scared you so much. Especially with the amount of misfortune that chased after you lately, like it was glued to you.

Cringe makes its way to your face. You're shuffling your way to your apartment, not really in a hurry, feet lazily dragged after you as you didn't even have any strenght to properly lift them off the ground. You most likely look like you've been partying for at least three nights in a row, but you can't find it in yourself to care about it. Not now.

Seeing the building in which your apartment is placed have never felt so relieving and you can feel your legs giving up under your weight just at the thought of splashing on the bed and dozing off. Vision of passing out on the sidewalk doesn't seem appealing to you, so you rush yourself to the door, typing entrance code and walking into the elevator, stairs not even crossing your mind. Your tired body slumps itself against the wall as you patiently wait to get to the 6th floor, finding relief in having something to support yourself on. Finally getting to the door you can't help but feel excited, tapping your feet happily just at the thought of making up every hour of sleep you've missed this week because of your busy schedule. You slide the door open and the very first thing reaching your ears is eager meowing, three fur balls appearing at the entrance immediately. You can't help but smile, kneeling to give each of them gentle head pat before taking off the coat and shoes. This truly felt like a bliss, like you've just slid off a bag of stones off your back. Sigh leaves your mouth, heading to the kitchen you turn on the kettle as your tea craving grows with every second. Soonie appears next to you, sitting at the table just across from you. You've grown so friendly with your roommate's Minho's cats that neither you nor him have any problem with kitties occupying places people normally wouldn't let them sit on.

Then you freeze for a second.

You look at Soonie.

Soonie looks at you.

Your brows furrow and the cat goes back to whatever he was doing previously.

Fuck.

Minho is coming home today. He's been away for past five days due to his business trip, that was probably exhaustion fogging your mind enough to forget about this. He's coming back today. And your apartment looks like a bomb has been detonated right in the middle of it all. You can't risk him seeing how messy you got, Minho is always the one to put stuff at the right place, making his bed no matter in how much of a hurry he's in, always the one to do the dishes and basically make everything look perfect. You can't see him disappointed in you for such an easy thing, he'll think you don't even gather your life together. Not like you do, but it's nothing in his business, you shouldn't become another one of his problems. He's just your roommate and the only thing you share and should take care of is apartment that is now in complete mess. You can blame it on your lack of time, barely spending any time at your place recently, but that won't help in current situation.

Quick glance at the time, 4:23 pm, you reach out for your phone to scroll up the conversation with your friend to make sure how fast you have to act.

He's back in town at 5 pm. Could this possibly get any worse?

You scold yourself internally for letting this whole situation happen. But you don't have time to think about this now, and as you turn off the kettle you speedrun to the livingroom, gathering scattered clothes from all around the place. You blame it on Monday when you got up so late you didn't even have time for brushing your hair and of course, the shirt you were looking for was nowhere to be found. Out of all things, it was the one you needed that day.

Then you pick up empty cans of soda, bottles of water and cups of coffee from the table and quickly throw them into the dishwasher. You blame it on Tuesday, the night you realised you have to write that fucking paperwork you got scolded for missing on Monday. So you sat there for hours, head empty, taking breaks only when your tired tears started wetting your pages, scared that all your miserable efforts will be ruined.

Rushing to Minho's room you pick up blanket and pillows from his floor. You blame it on Wednesday, the day you were already on the edge of breaking down and giving up on your job. Even though the boy is only a roommate for you, you've grown so used to his presence you started finding peace in it. Even after the worst day you knew that someone will always be there waiting at your apartment to serve you cup of hot chocolate and bowl of ramen, to take your turn of folding laundry or just listen to how appaling your day was. But he wasn't home and it left you all to yourself which was never the best idea. So, seeking for at least tiny bit of comfort, you slept on his floor. That sounds so fucking stupid and weird when you think about it now, but just the aura Minho left in his room made you feel a bit closer to him. Reminds you of every time he invited you over to play some online games for 12 year olds or spill any tea that happened at his work. Though, you never wanted to interfere his private space, so sleeping in his bed didn't even cross your mind. Floor was just sufficient for you, and you let your tears flow that night, just as much as you needed it. You know he would understand. He might seem cold to others, but you know he would. He already unwrapped his side of him to you letting you see that truly, inside, he's softer than anyone you know; It's all for Soonie, Doongie and Dori. They really do get the best of Minho.

Going back to the kitchen, you gather empty boxes of instant ramen, snacks and every ready shop food that you could possibly find at the convenience store. You blame it on the whole week of rushing, not even having time to eat a proper meal. You can feel it down your stomach, body demanding anything that could properly feed it and give it any strenght to function as it should be functioning. Honestly, you can't recall the last time you didn't feel sick. Lump in your throat was your loyal companion since a week ago, constant urge to throw up not leaving your body even when you were falling asleep and you know you'll have to appreciate normal, nutritions food more.

You run around the apartment holding a wet towel, wiping quickly every mirror hung on the walls as you know nothing pisses Minho more than fogged glass. So you try your best to do it carefully, just like he does it. Reaching the last mirror placed in the front hall you eagerly wipe it, aware of your lack of time. Then it all happens at once.

Shitty food, lack of sleep, liters of coffee and ungodly amount of stress feel like kicking in all at once, like it's been gathering in your exhausted body for the whole week just for this one moment that you needed to be fucking careful.

Vision blurry, feet suddently tripping over itself, mind going blank just for a second, but second is enough for you to try holding yourself onto the small table placed right under the mirror and shaking it so hard when sudden thump reach your ears, followed by loud sound of shattered glass. You don't want to look. Because you're fully aware of what just happened. You don't want to look but you do. Eyes landing on the remains of now broken vase, water all over the floor, flowers that were resting inside it now cut in half and completely soaked.

And it was Minho's favourite vase. The first and the last thing he always glanced at when leaving or coming back home, admiring its beauty, pretty patterns, unique shape and the prettiest flowers inside. Flowers that he got for his 25th birthday that passed not so long ago from his dearest best friend Jisung. Flowers that he was so happy to receive, first thing he did after coming home that day was showing them to you, proudly, ranting about how they perfectly suit the room. And you ruined it all.

Your body slides slowly on the wet floor, water soaking your pants on your knees and you support yourself on the palms of your hands not to completely fall into the mess. You feel small pieces of glass ripping open your delicate skin of your hands, small streams of blood making their way to the floor, mixing with spilled water but you couldn't care less. Elbows start to shake under the weight of your body, shoulders tensing and your head falls, your own quiet sobs reaching your ears. It quickly turns into uncotrollable groans and whines, tears now flowing down your face with no end, nose already full, loose hair stick to your now completely soaked cheeks.

And you blame it on yourself. You could seek for anything to put his all on, like your boss, for making you feel useless for not even managing to do your fucking job properly and assigning you more work than anyone else in your department. Or your mother for not teaching you how to manage your time and how to function on your own, her overprotectiveness during your childhood and teenage years showing so often that you never even got any time to learn adult life before stepping into it. But you know it isn't their fault, no matter how hard you try to think that it is. You let yourself into this situation. You let yourself be in the state you're currently in. You didn't try hard enough to make yourself a decent person. There's no one you can blame but you.

Your endless cries must've muffled the sound of door cracking open, eyes reaching only feet of your roommate that was now standing at the entrance. You couldn't look up, even if you wanted to, you couldn't look Minho in the eyes. Not when he's witnessing your failure and the mess you made out of something so dear to him.

Meanwhile Minho stood there, body frozen, gazing at your tiny figure splashed on the floor, shoulders shaking. He doesn't even notice the crashed vase at first, your current state drawing all his attention immediately to you.

He doesn't give himself any time to think much longer about what's happening in his front hall right now, dropping bags he's been holding in his right hand and suitcase on his left and appearing at your side the second after, kneeling by your vulnerable body on the floor.

"Hey, hey.." Minho lightly lays his hand on your shaky back, carefully caressing it to soothe you. "Easy now, I'm here."

The only respond he gets is your dramatic, loud sob ripping out of your heavy chest. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Minho... Is the only thing you could get out of yourself, followed by another set of pretty disgusting, wet cries.

"Are you hurt? Let me see your hand, please," your roommate asked quietly not to scare you after noticing red coloured drops beside your knees. Gently, he took your harmed hands into his and studied small pieces of glass stuck in your skin. "Let's get it cleaned, okay?"

His hand makes its way to your waist and he stands up slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves that could put you in pain. He shuffles you to the bathroom and helps you sit on the toilet seat and starts preparing alcohol and wet towels.

You feel pathetic.

Not only you ruined his special item, something so important and beautiful, but now he has to take care of someone that caused all the damage. You feel helpless once again, like you couldn't do anything fucking right for once. Once.

Your caring roommate starts removing glass shatters from your wound, his tongue sticking out a bit from the corner of his mouth, fully concentrated in his task. He knows that if his hands twitch even a little bit, he might hurt you even more, and let me tell you, his hands are trembling. He can't recall a situation when he saw you in such state.

You always seem tough, tough against any misfortune that meets you. You surely talk to him when you need some shoulder to lay on, about your worse days and he's cautious enough to notice when you're exhausted. But he's never seen you at your breaking point, starting to believe you don't have any. Yet you're here, in front of him, not even being able to speak properly. He can't help but feel kind of relieved at the whole situation knowing that your hard, protective shell cracked a little bit, letting him see something he's never seen in you before. Weakness.

"This might sting a bit," Minho informs you as he presses alcohol soaked paper to your wound. Whimper leaves your mouth at the unpleasant feeling and you hang your head down. He quickly wraps bandage around your hand and clasps it between his warm palms.

"Hey, you don't have to worry about that the hall. I'll take care of it, okay?" He tries to lower himself, kneeling in front of you, so he can get a better glimpse of your puffed face. You shake your head and straighten your back, looking at him with serious expression.

"No." You sniff, "No, I broke it, I broke something so important to you and it's my fault. I'll clean it. I'll buy you a new one, the same one, I promise Minho."

His hands make their way to your back, slowly, eyes remaining on you for any sign of discomfort. When you sneakily lean into the touch, Minho pulls your body entirely towards his, clasping your weak figure into his arms and sways you left and right, wanting to feel your muscles relax in his embrace.

"What's wrong, hm? My roommate senses are tingling," his voice muffles itself by pressing his mouth against your shoulder, "Talk to me, y/n, please?"

"I had the worst week ever here, without you."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You just shake your head no, holding onto his waist tighter than ever. You feel him nod. His calm aura pulls you in completely, feeling like walking into hot building during snowy, cold winter. Your cheeks warm up, pressing right below his neck, his body warmth transferring itself to you.

"It's lowkey weird." You choke out, coughing right after because of how stuffed your poor throat felt.

"What is?"

"You comforting me while I'm sitting on a toilet seat."

You manage to let out throaty chuckle to light the atmosphere up, however, you can't help the warm stream of tears flowing right after.

"Want to move it to the livingroom?" Minho pulls out of the hug slightly, setting his gaze at your red face again and your eyes make their way to the floor. You still haven't looked him in the eyes, not even once, as you're scared of the wave of guilt that will follow. As if the one you're feeling right now isn't enough. You feel like a child scared to get shouted at by their parents.

Minho crouches down in front of you and you hum in question, brows furrowed. He only gestures with his hand for you to hop onto his back, already positioning your legs on his hips. You groan but don't protest, you know how Minho is and you know fighting him is hopeless. Wrapping your arms around his next securely and glueing your chest onto his back, you melt into the warmth of his body. He stands up, feeling your breath tickling the skin behind his ear and smiling to himself, noticing how it got much steadier than it was before. He leads both of you out the bathroom and again, the sad view of Minho's favourite vase on the floor, not really looking any similar to vase anymore, hits you, shoving another wave of guilt through your nerves. You close your eyes and rest your forehead on your roommate's shoulder.

"I'm truly, so, so sorry Minho. I never meant to do this, I was just trying to make the place look presentable for you and it ended like it always does." the words left your mouth as quiet squeak, taking another deep breath before speaking again; "Yet you still have to clean the mess I did, like you always do. I don't deserve it, I don't deserve you. I failed being your perfect roommate."

"Who said I wanted a perfect roommate?" he asks as you reach your shared couch, carefully laying you on it then sitting by your side, facing you. "You think I'm mad at you, but I'm not. I've broken like five vases in my life and none of this was anything I planned, just like you."

You finally find some strenght in yourself to raise your gaze and lock it at his round, dark eyes. And he's right, no matter how intensively you look into them, you can't find even a tiny bit of anger in them, they sparked with understanding and you find yourself feeling bad at even thinking someone this precious could get so mad at you. They were so pure you could see your ugly, messed up reflection in them. Before you could start thinking about this again, his eyes squinted a little bit as corners of Minho's lips curled upwards in the most beautiful, sincere, affectionate smile you've ever seen. You only realised that his hand was placed on your trembling knee when you felt his fingers caressing it softly, sending warm shiver through your whole body.

"What about the flowers? You loved them..." You turned around to take a glimpse of the mess once again but Minho quickly grabbed your chin with only pads of his fingers and made you look back at him. "I'll take over from here, you get rest now."

Just as he was about to stand up from the couch you grabbed him by his sleeve and almost agressively pulled him right into your arms, crashing in the tightest, breath taking hug as you truly couldn't believe you had him by your side. Just when you thought you crossed his boundaries by that sudden action and started to loose your grip on him, he dragged you right back to him like he was waiting for this moment to happen. His heart pressed to yours, he definitely could tell how fast and heavy its beating right now. Both of yours eyes closed, you just enjoyed this such intimate moment, very first one since you've moved in together. Neither you or him dare to make a move in fear of ruining this beautiful scene.

"Thank you," you murmur into his neck, so quietly you're not even sure he heard it. "only you can endure me as your roommate. How are you not tired of this?" Chuckle leaves your mouth but you quickly tone it out in case he responds, Well, I am actually tired.

"Because you're the only one that can endure me, too." He pulls out of the hug, though he doesn't move too far away, being so close to your face you could feel his minty breath on your nose. "I guess it's just the way things go."

Next thing your brain processes is his perfect lips landing on yours in swift motion. Suprisingly they're not rough, not even a little bit, they're so soft you barely feel them at first. Your heart goes up your throat for a mere second, dropping back down the moment he caress your cheek gently with his warm hand, now covered in the tiniest layer of sweat caused by the adrenaline. When your body finally understands what's going on, you lean into him completely, hand going up on the back of his head, tangling into his soft, dark hair and Minho takes is as a sign to continue, now pressing his lips onto yours with more force, making sure you feel them properly. A sigh of relief leaves both of your mouths and you smile into the kiss. When you eventually just slightly pull away from each other, faces still close, you notice new emotion making its way into his eyes, overtaking the rest as he studies every part of your face carefully. It's love. His eyes are full of love. Its so intense like it just have been freed from his chest after months of hiding in the deepest corners of his heart.

There's still so much you don't know about him and there's so much he doesn't know about you, but the gate has opened now and there's no turning back. You don't know what any of this means yet, but you can think of it tomorrow. Or in a month. Or in a year.

For now it's just you and him. And that's what matters the most in the world.

[dandylovesturtles]

I'm trying to get myself back into writing by doing some little things here and there. This is the first one that is actually worth it to post here lol

Awhile back I asked on discord for suggestions of things I could write and then for a long time I didn't actually do anything lol BUT I finally did something. This ficlet is based on a suggestion @abbeyofcyn gave me about Donnie feeling anxiety over a having a new home post S2 (at least I remember it being Cyn but the message is so old now I can't find it orz I'm sorry if it was someone else)

I hope you enjoy it!

---

The subway station has been closed to the public since the nineties. Most of the ways in are already blocked off, and it will be trivial to finish that work to keep out any intruders. The tracks and maintenance station make an ideal garage and workspace for the tank. The old electrical wiring and water pipes are easily accessible. There’s still functioning toilets in the old bathrooms, and ventilated spaces ideal for cooking. There’s easy access to the street, the rest of the subway system, and the sewers. Splinter hums approvingly as he circles an old staff area with a tape measure. His brothers shout as they call dibs on rusted out train cars. April enthusiastically notes that the station is close to her new campus.

It checks all the boxes on their list, and then some.

So why has the sick feeling in the pit of Donnie’s stomach gotten worse instead of better?

There must be something wrong with it. Some flaw they aren’t seeing, some con they haven’t considered. He needs to go over his lists again; double check and triple check from every angle. They’ve only been here an hour - it would just be irresponsible to make a decision so quickly!

He desperately fires up his tablet again and pulls up his list, scrolling with hard taps as his eyes fly over the compiled criteria. There must be something… Something!

It’s structurally sound. There’s ample space for skateboard ramps and arcade machines. There’s plenty of lighting that will only need simple maintenance to be functional. There’s a big space that can be used for a new lab. It checks all the boxes, but there must be at least one it’s not checking, or why would Donnie’s blood curdle at the thought of actually living here?

The way the air moves through the space is wrong. The way the sounds echo off the walls and floors is unfamiliar. The smell is not the one he spent his whole life inhaling. It’s all wrong in a way that embeds itself in Donnie’s very skin, leaves him feeling slimy and nauseous and off kilter, like everything was just tilted at a dutch angle.

He scrolls to the bottom of the list and taps a few more times to be sure. “Air feels right” and “Echoes are normal” and “Smell is bad” are not boxes to be checked, so it can’t be any of those things. It has to be something else… It has to be something!

He scrolls back to the top of his list. Then he scrolls back to the bottom. He can’t find it. But it has to be there.

“Whoa,” says Leo, and Donnie jolts, his head snapping up. “I’ve never seen Donnie look like he wants to murder a computer before.”

“Please don’t tell Raph that something’s wrong with the structural checks or whatever,” says Raph, just behind Leo. They’re all coming up to him, probably wondering why he’s been standing in the same spot for… 

Donnie glances at his screen and jolts again. Twenty four minutes and thirty seven second!?

“Come on, Dee, this place has got to be perfect,” says Leo. “I already know exactly where I’m putting my action figures in my new digs!”

“And I’m already getting sooo many ideas for graffiti!” says Mikey excitedly, bouncing in place where he stands next to April. “And I can’t wait to design the kitchen layout! I can’t believe I get to start from scratch and do it just how I want!”

“Raph already knows exactly where the dojo is goin’,” Raph joins in. When Leo blows a raspberry, Raph pushes him forward and smirks when he has to catch himself.

“I think this is the best you guys are gonna get,” says April. “Unless you wanna move to the Hidden City.”

“We can’t, Raph still has a warrant for his arrest.”

“I keep tellin’ you guys, that ain’t Raph!”

“I only wish I had known about this place earlier,” comes Splinter’s voice as he joins them. “So much square footage!”

They all start talking excitedly, so fast it blends into a whir in Donnie’s ears. They’ve all already decided, but don’t they see? They can’t live here, because it’s wrong!

“No.”

Donnie’s declaration kills the conversation in its tracks. Everyone stops to look at him, and the sudden attention doesn’t feel as good as it might otherwise.

“No,” he repeats, shaking his head and looking back at his list. “This won’t work.”

A chorus of “What!?” comes from everyone else. Donnie keeps his eyes on his list, scrolling frantically, looking for the problem that he knows is there.

“Is there something wrong with it?” asks April, tone measured.

“Yes,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate, because he doesn’t know what it is yet and how can he answer if he doesn’t have any data?

It’s clear they aren’t going to wait for him to come up with the answer.

“Well what is it? Ventilation? Structural integrity? The wiring? Come on, Dee, give us somethin’.”

“It’s… it’s just wrong. I know it is.” Donnie looks up from his list then, and their skeptical expressions make him coil around his tablet in defense. “We’ve barely seen all of it! How can we know for certain that it will really suit our needs?”

He’s protesting too much, and it’s no surprise when Leo catches on, immediately narrowing his eyes as he hones in on Donnie’s uncertainty. 

“You’ve said no to every place we’ve looked at, dude! Are your standards that high, or do you just like living in Barry’s crappy apartment that much?”

“I obviously do not,” Donnie snaps, because he has made no secret of the fact that he hates it there. Sure, it was nice of Draxum to take them in now that they’re homeless and all that, but the apartment is too small, and the sheets are too scratchy, and the way the air conditioner sounds is all wrong, and the street noises bother Donnie at night…

Of course he doesn’t want to keep living there! He never wanted to live there in the first place!

“Then what’s the problem?” Leo asks, folding his arms, and Donnie scowls back.

“I just think we shouldn’t rush into such a big decision just because it sucks to live in Draxum’s apartment,” he reasons, reasonably because he’s being very reasonable!

“And what, wait for our realtor to find us a few more listings?” Leo says with heavy snark. 

“Leo,” says Raph with a warning tone, before looking back at Donnie. “Look, we can take tonight to think about it,” he suggests. “But if there’s nothing really wrong with it, I think this is gonna be the best we can do.”

Donnie shrinks back. “You say we’ll take tonight to think about it, but you’ve all already decided.” He shakes his head. “But I’m telling you, we can’t live here. It’s wrong.”

“Donnie…” Mikey’s hand touches Donnie’s elbow, and it takes everything in him not to jerk it away. “Is there an actual problem with the place, or is this a feelings problem?”

Donnie jerks away.

Then he turns and sprints away down the nearest subway tunnel.

…

He only makes it to the next condemned platform before he collapses against the wall, panting. Maybe he really should take up Raph’s advice to do more cardio… If he can ever face any of them again, that is.

He sinks to the ground and rests his chin on his knees, looking around at the unfamiliar scenery. He knew the old tunnels of his home like he knew the curves and grooves in his favorite wrench. But his favorite wrench is lost forever under an insurmountable amount of rubble, and the tunnels around him are foreign and imposing.

He doesn’t want to live in Draxum’s apartment anymore.

But he doesn’t want to live here.

He wants to go home.

The ugly, bitter feeling in his stomach twists again, and he groans and presses his face into his knees, covering his head with his arms. He knows exactly what would fix this, and it’s something he can’t have.

He did the tests himself, over and over again. He knows that their old home would take years, decades to make livable again. They simply can’t fix it. It’s too big to be fixed.

Which means he cannot be fixed.

The understanding that he’ll feel this way forever washes over Donnie, leaving him desolated. How is he ever supposed to function again?

How can the rest of his family move on so easily when he’s still like this?

Footsteps echo off the walls, and he tenses up, curling tighter into himself. It’s no surprise that one of them came after him. He’s just glad it’s only one set of footsteps, and not five.

He doesn’t look up as they draw close. He doesn’t have to. A barefooted tread, light and airy with a bit of a hop to it even when the mood is somber. He’d know it anywhere.

Mikey plops down next to him and says, “Ready to talk to Doctor Feelings?”

Donnie shakes his head without looking up.

Mikey hums. “Wanna talk to Doctor Delicate Touch?”

Donnie shakes his head harder.

There’s a shuffle, and then warmth against Donnie’s side. “Wanna talk to your favorite little brother in the whole wide world?”

Donnie finally lifts his head enough to look at Mikey with one eye. “Winning by default isn’t something to brag about,” he notes.

A huge grin crosses Mikey’s face. “Hey, there you are!”

“Here I am,” Donnie notes dryly, and it sounds miserable even to his own ears.

Mikey’s expression falls into something more soft. He scoots around to Donnie’s front, then says, “You’re homesick.”

Homesick feels too small for the dark feelings that are swallowing Donnie whole. It’s just not enough.

“...I don’t want to live somewhere new,” he says, and it sounds like, I don’t want everything to be different.

“Yeah, it’s a lot,” says Mikey, even though Donnie knows he can’t be feeling it like this, or at least hopes his little brother isn’t. “You’ll get used to it, though!”

It almost makes Donnie laugh. He can’t begin to imagine it ever feeling anything but terrible. “How do you know?”

“Because I have experience,” says Mikey breezily, like it’s obvious. 

Donnie hopes the skepticism shows on his face. “Really? Micheal, we were both too young when Papa moved us to the lair.”

“Yeah, I don’t remember that. But I do remember when we all got our own rooms!”

Donnie considers that with some surprise. He vaguely remembers that… mostly because he was happy that Raph and Leo couldn’t put their stuff on his side anymore. “Ah yes. A joyous day for all of us.”

“Well it wasn’t too happy for me!” Mikey retorts, folding his arms. “I didn’t want any of us to get our own rooms. I… wasn’t ready to be without you guys.”

Actually, now that Mikey says that, Donnie does remember that part of it. “I also remember that you weren’t without us, because you slept in one of our rooms every night for two months.”

Mikey nods seriously. “Yeah! Because I wasn’t ready for change!”

“And we had to make a rotating chart so that each of us could get a full night of sleep once in a while.”

“Huh?” Mikey pouts. “What do you mean? I sleep like an angel!”

“Kicking and chewing on anything in grabbing distance seems more like demon behavior,” Donnie notes, and Mikey huffs and makes a big show of being offended. 

“The point, Donald,” he stresses, “is that it was a big change! And I wasn’t happy about it for a loooong time.” He leans back. “I didn’t get why you guys were so happy about moving out when I wasn’t. It felt like you were all leaving me behind.”

Donnie frowns. “But we were literally a few feet away,” he notes. “As you proved nightly.”

Mikey points at him excitedly. “Exactly! It was a big change, but I still had you guys. And eventually, you guys helped me get excited about it, too.”

Donnie tries to remember what exactly they did to accomplish that, but… “All I remember is that we helped you hang up your finger paintings and put glow in the dark stickers on the ceiling.”

“Yep!” Mikey nods sagely. “You helped make it my own. I got where I was excited to be in my room, because it was how I wanted it to be!” He falters, tapping his chin. “And also I remember Leo said something about all my toys being sad if they were alone in my room at night…”

“Ah. Manipulative tactics,” Donnie observes.

“But that’s not the point! The point is that when I made it my own, change wasn’t so scary anymore.” He waves back down the tunnel. “And that’s what’s going to work for you, too! Because you’re going to build yourself a big new lab and decorate your room just how you want it, and you’re going to love it!”

Donnie feels absolutely no confidence in that. The idea of building a new lab, of decorating his room, of getting used to the new space, doesn’t fill him with excitement. There is only dread there, and exhaustion, and an insurmountable realization that nothing is ever going to be the same as it was before.

“That might work for you,” he says softly, tiredly. “But I don’t think it will for me. I don’t think I will ever stop feeling…” 

He still doesn’t know what to call this. 

“...Homesick.”

“But you will,” says Mikey, putting a hand on his arm. This time, Donnie doesn’t jerk away. “You know how I know?”

“How?”

“Because you went through it with the rooms too, Dee.”

Donnie scoffs, shaking his head. “I was glad to have my own room,” he asserts. “The rest of you kept getting your things into my space. It was annoying.”

“Sure, maybe you were happy about that part,” says Mikey simply, “but do you remember the big storm? The first one after we moved into our rooms, that was sooo loud we could hear it?”

Again, Donnie thinks he vaguely recalls something like that. It clearly didn’t leave as large an impression on him as it did on Mikey, though.

“I… might,” he says.

“I remember,” says Mikey, “that I was so scared, I ran straight to Raph’s room! And he was already awake, and he was under the covers, and we made a tent together.” He giggles. “And then you came in, and then Leo! And I realized then, maybe you guys weren’t really as happy about sleeping in separate rooms as I thought.”

He shifts around again, pressing himself into Donnie’s side.

“We went through that all together. And we’re gonna go through this together, too. And that’s how I know it’ll be okay!”

Donnie can’t help but make a skeptical noise. He’s not sure it will be. It just feels like too much.

“We’re all homesick, too,” Mikey confides. “We show it different than you… But we are. We’re going through it with you.”

Donnie knows they miss home, too. He knows that. But still…

“What if you’re wrong,” he says, “and it’s not okay?”

“Then…” Mikey trails off, thinking. “Then I’ll use the money I saved up to buy you that limited edition Atomic Lass figure you wanted!”

Donnie twists his head to stare at him. “That figure currently values at eight hundred and fifty dollars,” he says.

Mikey grimaces. “I will give you all the money I have saved up to help you buy it!” he amends.

Donnie snorts. Then he laughs. Then he leans into the warmth of his little brother.

He doesn’t want to live somewhere new… but it won’t be entirely new. His family will still be there. Just a few steps away.

“Does the laughing mean you’ll come back with me?” asks Mikey. “Because this tunnel is cold.”

Donnie snorts again. “I will go back with you,” he agrees, “because I actually don’t have a choice in the matter.”

“Yes! I did it!” Mikey hops to his feet, extending a hand. “Another W for Doctor Feelings!”

“Winning by default is nothing to brag about,” says Donnie again. But he takes Mikey’s hand, and they go back to the station together.

[patscorner]

Hey, idk if your taking requests rn but could you do an Emily Engstler x chubby reader fic where reader is in her feelings about a personal subject of your choice and they end up arguing over it? Idk just some angst and fluff please?

I don't really like how this turned out, but here you gooo

Butterflies

Summary: When you receive hate, instead of getting the calm, gentle response from your girlfriend, you get an unexpected reaction.

wc: 1,099

Contains: talks of insecurities, two kisses, that's all

______________________________

You sigh as you put your car in park. Finally, after a day in hell(at work), you were home. For some reason, everyone and their mom decided to test you today. Ranging from customers cussing you out, to Emily being cranky before you left for work, the day seemed to be giving you a break.

Even though you and your girlfriend had bickered all morning, right now, you wanted nothing more than to be in her arms. But before you do, you decide to open instagram. Bad idea. There were multiple hate comments on your post about how you looked in a bathing suit. You weren't the biggest person in the world, but you also weren't the skinniest. You've never been skinny, and you were often judged for that rather than your cheerful personality. So, like most bigger kids, you were bullied when you were younger, causing you to have low self confidence and self esteem.

Eventually, you grow to love your body, and it only gets better when you start to date Emily. She thought you were the most gorgeous person in the world, and she made sure you knew that.

Of course, it wasn't always smooth, and you had your days. Like now.

The post was from a month ago, when Emily surprised you with a trip to Mexico. Normally, they wouldn't affect you, but after the day you had, the words displayed on your screen found cracks in your armor and buried itself there, finding its way under your skin and into your heart.

You sigh heavily, blinking back tears as you get out of the car and locking it behind you. You take a deep breath as you unlock the door to your shared apartment with Emily.

You hear her yelling from the bedroom as you place your keys on the counter. You make your way into the room and see she's on the game with a couple of her teammates. “Hi, baby.” She mumbles, glancing at you before she draws her attention to the screen.

You don't say anything back, just grab your clothes and go to the bathroom to change. This sets alarms off in Emily's head, but unfortunately, the game she's playing has already put her emotions on ten and her patience on zero.

“What the fuck?” You hear her mumble. You roll your eyes, before changing and walking back out into the room. She's not on the game anymore, instead, she's sat on the end of the bed, with her arms crossed. You close your eyes and sigh when you see her, you truly don't have the patience.

“What the fuck is your problem? You came home pissed, and didn't even say hi to me.” She squinted her eyes at you.

You don't say anything, and just sit down next to her, hoping she'd relax at the sight of your need for comfort. She doesn't.

“I'm sorry. I’m not feeling the best, I was on Instagram and there were comments an-” Emily cuts you off with a laugh as she stands up.

“Are you serious? I told you to stay out of the comment sections. You're asking for it at this point.” She scoffs.

The statement takes you by surprise. Your normally gentle girlfriend was standing in front of you, her anger directed at you. “I'm ‘asking for it’?”

Then it clicks for Emily, as her eyes soften and she tries to take her statement back. “That's not what I me-”

Now it's your turn to cut her off. “Bullshit, you meant it. I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't ask to look like this, and I didn't ask to be treated like this either.” You stand up, a move towards the door, tears streaming down your face. You stop before you close the door and lock eyes with Emily.

Her eyes are guilty, looking down at her feet. “I'm sleeping on the couch.” You sigh. She looks up like she wants to say something, but closes her mouth instead.

“I love you.” She whispers. “I love you too.” You respond before going into the living room.

You stir in your sleep, feeling yourself being lifted from the couch. You open your eyes and look up to see Emily carrying you bridal style back to your room. “Shh, go back to sleep, ma.” She whispers, kissing your head.

You groan as she gently puts you down on your side of the bed. She mimics your actions, laying down next to you, wrapping her arms around you, so you're facing her. Sleep has left you now, and you're both just staring at each other.

“What're you doing?” You whisper. Emily's heart breaks as she takes in your features. Your eyes are red and puffy, and your hair is disheveled from the amount of times you ran your hand through it.

“Couldn't sleep.” She mumbled, pulling you closer. You melt into her arms, finally getting the embrace you needed earlier.

“I'm so sorry, baby. What I said was fucked up. I was still hype from the game, and I shouldn't have spoken to you like that.” She places an apologetic kiss on your lips, so light it was almost ghostlike.

“ ‘s okay.” You mutter.

“No it's not. I'll do better, I promise. It'll never happen again.” She said, forcing your eyes on hers. The words you read earlier flash through your mind, and your breathing hitches as you close your eyes, attempting to stop the tears, but it's no use.

She sighs as she watches you break down, and she can't help but feel like she caused some of it. She pulls you closer, her tattooed hand rubbing circles up and down your back.

“They're wrong. You are the most beautiful woman in the entire world, and I'm not gonna stop telling you, not until you believe it. And even then, I'll continue to tell you. Because it's true. Those motherfuckers don't know you. Not like I do, and they never will. “

She pauses to wipe your tears, kissing your cheeks gently. “I love you so much, and no matter what they say, I always will. D’you understand?” her eyes locked with yours, waiting for your response.

You sniffle, nodding slowly. Emily shakes her head. “Words, baby.” She whispers.

You feel your cheeks heat up, and by the way Emily tries to bite back a smirk, you know she did it on purpose. “I understand. I love you too.”

With that she pulls you into a passionate kiss, lips interlocking as she takes your insecurities away, replacing them with butterflies.

______________________________

taglist: @wintersstan @bueckerslover @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @girlokwhatever @pbloverr @breeloveschris

[minarisplaything]

The Producer - PART THREE

pairing: Chaeyoung (Fromis9) x M!OC / Jiwon x M!OC rating: explicit word count: 4.2k summary: After introducing himself to the girls, the Producer has a run in take place in the bathroom with two trainees who want to make a good first impression before anyone else. PART 1, PART 2 tags: double blowjob a/n: apologies for two bathroom fics in a row. this one was just the next fic i had completed so i figured f*ck it let's just post it.

"What a day."

With a sigh you collapsed into the couch, conveniently situated in your office. Your uncle, or whoever he had intended on this being for, clearly had a taste for leisure. But right now you didn't want to think about that. Not your uncle. Not the job. Having just gotten out of your first meeting with the girls you would be put in charge of you really wanted nothing more than to just close your eyes and let your mind go blank.

Of course, that was easier said than done. As you let your mind drift, you inevitably found yourself thinking back to the meeting that had taken place only earlier that same day.

[EARLIER THAT DAY]

The way down to the training room was perhaps some of the most nerve wracking of your entire life. If you thought this morning had been stressful it was nothing compared to what was currently racing through your mind. All you kept seeing was images of Yewon writhing against your thigh and Jessica's voice echoing in your ear. Now, in just a few moments, you'd be seeing her as part of the line-up of trainees.

It's fine, you thought to yourself. She probably hasn't told anyone else. Hopefully not anyway. God, I am fucked.

The worst part of it was that despite your internal dread, the mental imagery still turned you on. In fact, one of the many rogue thoughts wandering around in your head was the fact that you wished you could have gone further with her. The shock of learning that Yewon was a trainee had effectively killed any erection you had at the time but it didn't change the fact that you were extremely pent up right now.

With a sigh you did your best to push those thoughts aside as you arrived at the door as Jessica emerged from the practice room.

"Alright," Jessica said, emerging from the room, "I've prepared them for you. Are you ready?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm ready."

"Are you sure about that? You look like you've seen a ghost," she offered you a sympathetic look.

If only she had any idea of the truth she wouldn't be asking that question. Honestly, at this moment you envied Jessica's ability to compartmentalize things. Maybe you'd ask for tips on it the next time the two of you went out for drinks. Assuming there was a next time.

"Is it that obvious?" you asked.

She pressed her lips together and gave you a nod. Jessica walked over towards you, her heels clicking on the floor. She reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, "Remember, they are just as intimidated to meet you as you are them. Maybe even more so. "

"I don't know about that," you muttered.

"Just remember, you can walk away from this before it even begins. For them, this is their whole lives."

"Was that meant to make me feel less nervous?"

Jessica grinned, a twinkle in her eye, "Just trying to give you some perspective. Now come on."

Unable to delay the issue any further, you followed Jessica into the practice room, fingers digging into your palm.

The room itself was quite spacious. Like much of the rest of the building, it was clear that your uncle had spent recklessly investing in this endeavor. At least from a financial perspective. Bright ceiling lights illuminated the room while a mirror that ran the full length of the back wall ensured there would be no lack of reflections. There was an argument to be made that if one were going to splurge on any one room, this was the one worth the investment. Aside from the decor of the room, your eyes were immediately drawn to the lineup of fifteen women standing at attention. One of whom was a familiar face who was avoiding your gaze, her cheeks flushed bright red.

Immediately, you felt the nerves start to creep back into your mind. You looked away from the beautiful lineup and glanced to the corner to see Jinyoung standing there with a clipboard. Something about seeing him made you feel a little more relaxed. After all, he didn’t seem bothered at all.

He probably didn’t have one of his employees grinding on his thigh only a few hours earlier, a rogue thought whispered.

"Everyone," she started, "This is Mr. Park, he's the nephew of our CEO and he might be working with us soon."

A resounding "Hello" reached your ears, causing you to smile just a bit.

You could already feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment. You had to resist the urge to tell them that they didn’t have to be so formal in their greeting. You were a nobody as far as you were concerned. Barely qualified for the job. But you swallowed down that self-deprecation and offered a small smile and wave in response. You could already feel their eyes on you, judging you. Were they surprised you were so young? Maybe they were expecting your uncle or someone older? You noticed a few of the trainees started whispering to each other and tried not to get too paranoid about it.

Once she was satisfied, Jessica continued, "I'll let him introduce himself and we can go from there."

She looked over, metaphorically turning the floor over to you. Moment of truth. You cleared your throat, adjusting your tie once again in the process.

"Ah – right. Good morning, ladies. It's a pleasure to meet all of you and I look forward to working with you all. I hope we have much success in the near future.”

When you stopped, Jessica elbowed you in the side. You looked at her, brow furrowed, before she gestured for you to continue speaking. You suppose it was a bit of a robotic and corporate introduction, but you were just trying to be formal! What did she expect you to say when you hadn’t even taken on the job!

“I, uh, I know nothing has been made official yet but I’ve gotten to know some of you,” a brief glance at Yewon who immediately looked away. You cleared your throat and attempted to focus on your speech, “...through your files and what Ms. Jung has told me. I just have to say I’m looking forward to seeing what you all have to offer.”

You paused for a moment, considering how honest you wanted to be with them. Was it more beneficial to be honest with how green you were in this field, or should you fake it as long as possible? Considering you held their futures in your hands, being upfront felt like the best option.

“Truthfully…this is my first time working on something of this scale. I know some of you have experience at other labels or have been at this for a long time trying to achieve your dream so…I want us all to work on this together to succeed. My door is always open.”

They gave a short round of applause, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it had been genuinely encouraging or if they were just being polite. You supposed both options could be true. You looked over to Jessica and were surprised to see a small smile on her features. That meant you did good…right?

You looked over at the ladies, trying to read their reactions when you found yourself locking eyes with one of the shorter members in the lineup. Park Jiwon, if your memory serves right. What was more was that you found her eyes looking back. Your gazes locked for a long moment, and you almost felt like you were imagining things when you saw her eyebrow cock and her bottom lip get pulled between her teeth.

Fuck.

After what had happened with Yewon had left you high and dry, you could feel yourself getting turned on by the mere thought of shoving your cock between her pretty lips. This wasn’t good. You averted your gaze only to find yourself meeting Yewon’s gaze. Immediately, her cheeks reddened and she looked away from you, her thighs pressed together tightly. Was she having the same thoughts as you? Fucking hell, at this rate you’d be fantasizing about half the members on the team you were arranging. And the worst part was you didn’t find yourself hating that idea.

“Do you mind if we take a brief break?” you whispered to Jessica.

She gave you a bemused look, eyebrow arching, “Need to use the little boy’s room?”

“Something like that.”

Jessica chuckled and nodded her head towards the door, “Down the hall and to the right.”

You gave a small nod of appreciation. As you shuffled out of the room you heard Jessica telling the girls we’d be taking a break. Hopefully, this would give a chance for all the tension in the room to have a breather.

You splashed water on your face and looked into the mirror. You were undoubtedly having a moment of second thought. Just when you thought you had conquered the anxiety of taking on a post like this. Except this time the reasoning had nothing to do with performance fears. At least not of that sort.

“What have I gotten myself into,” you muttered.

Maybe you could get a chance to talk to Yewon privately. Clothed and keeping your hands to yourself this time. You could clear the air and move forward like nothing had happened…Even as you looked at your own reflection you were unconvinced by that line of thought.

Getting Jessica’s advice on the matter didn’t seem worth the risk. Especially considering that you still didn’t know what exactly your relationship with her was after the other night. Honestly, she seemed more likely to get upset for business reasons than jealousy but neither option seemed worth the risk.

As you wrestled with your own thoughts you were faintly aware of the sound of the bathroom door opening.

“Jinyoung, tell Jess I’ll be back in a minute,” you said, not paying any mind.

“I can tell her for you, PD-nim. Though I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

Immediately the color drained from your face.

You had assumed it was Jinyoung entering because frankly, you didn’t know of any other men that worked at the company. Therefore one could only imagine the expression on your face when a feminine voice reached your ears instead. Your head snapped to the side to see two familiar faces looking back at you. Familiar because you had only just been introducing yourself to them moments earlier. One was the girl whose gaze you had met, Park Jiwon. The other, a taller trainee, was Lee Chaeyoung. A name you remembered just from her height standing out on her file that Jess had shown you.

“Girls,” you stammered, straightening, “What are you doing in here?”

Chaeyoung turned, locking the door behind you as Jiwon took a step towards you, looking up at you as her hands were laced behind her back.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Chaeyoung responded.

Your cock jumped, imagining what she could be referring to. Still, you decided the safer route was to play naive and let them lead you to the answer. “I’m not sure it is…”

“We’re here to give you a proper welcome to the company,” Jiwon stated directly.

She came to a stop in front of you and Chaeyoung soon stood next to her. They were gorgeous, there was no doubt about that, and they currently had you cornered against the sink. You swallowed thickly, wetting your bottom lip with your tongue as your gaze darted between the two women.

“Is that right?”

They nodded simultaneously.

“You know…” started Jiwon, her hand moving to the button of your pants, “Yewon’s face turned red as an apple when she saw you enter the room. I wonder why that was.”

Chaeyoung grinned as she perched herself on your shoulder, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear as she spoke, “We had her do a lap around the building with a vibrator slipped inside of her.”

You could feel my own cheeks start to redden at that revelation. No wonder she had been practically begging for any kind of touch. How long had she been in that state before you found her? Clearly long enough that she was willing to find relief on your thigh.

As you considered the implications of her words, Chaeyoung’s hand moved to join Jiwon’s as the button to your pants came undone. Her fingers slipped inside, easily cupping your growing bulge over your underwear. Her fingers massaged it, only causing your cock to stiffen further. In turn, she gave a throaty laugh and smiled at Jiwon who mirrored her actions with her own hand.

"He doesn't seem surprised to hear that," Chaeyoung continued, her breath hot against your ear as their hands stroked your cock.

"I think I know why. You know Yewon's face was so red when she came back it made me wonder why," Jiwon chimed in. She looked up at you, biting her bottom lip as her eyes held mischievous intent. “I think it’s because she had more stimulation than just that vibrator.”

“Did she have this?” Chaeyoung whispered, giving your length a firm squeeze.

“N-no,��� you managed. However, lying at this point seemed fruitless. They had you cornered and you were already letting Chaeyoung jerk you off with her long fingers. What harm could the confession do at this point? “...It was my thigh. She rode my thigh. But I didn’t know…”

“Oh my god,” Jiwon laughed, “That little slut. I didn’t think she had something like that in her. Just wait until the others hear.”

You stumbled a bit, gripping the sink as Chaeyoung continued rubbing your cock. It was a bizarre experience; trying to hold a conversation with Jiwon while her taller accomplice nibbled at your earlobe and stroked your cock. All while your whole career was only a few feet away outside of the bathroom door.

“You can’t,” you muttered. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“Is it our secret, PD-nim? What else are we going to keep secret?” Chaeyoung teased.

“You know if we had more time we could really have fun,” Jiwon said, “Is he close, Chae?”

“From the way he keeps throbbing in my hand and the look on his face I’d say yes.”

You felt Jiwon’s eyes turn to you and instantly knew she was up to no good, “Ladies…”

“We have to be the first ones. Before anyone else hooks their claws into him.”

Before you could protest or even ask what she was talking about, Jiwon’s hands were grabbing the waistband of your pants and boxers. She yanked them down your thighs, fully exposing the sight of Chaeyoung’s hand wrapped around your cock. There was no denying it now. In fact seeing it only turned you on further. Not to mention the taller girl had been right: you were practically ready to burst. The physical touch combined with her teasing and the memory of what had happened with Yewon; it was all too much.

You watched as the two trainees slid to their knees on the tiled bathroom floor. Together they began tag-teaming your cock, taking turns letting their tongues run over the swollen head and engorged shaft like it was their favorite lollipop.

“Fuck, ladies, we really shouldn't...” you moaned. A pathetic last attempt at the righteous choice.

Both girls looked up at you with their pretty eyes and grinned. It was clear they were enjoying this; listening to you fight with your morals while refusing to push them away.

Jiwon pulled back, looking up at you with wide eyes and pouting lips, "Should we head back to the practice room?"

The sincerity of her question was undermined by the fact that Chaeyoung's tongue was still teasing the head of your cock. You found yourself speechless and Jiwon's pout turned into a devilish smile. "Don't worry, PD-nim. You don't have to feel guilty, I bet we aren't the only ones who'd want a taste of this."

She gave you a wink and returned to the task at hand. The thought was enticing to your most primal instincts. Something you were supposed to be above. However, there was no denying the appeal. The thrill of the taboo and the risk of being caught combined with the feeling of their soft hands and lips made was already making this far too addicting. Sure when you signed on for this job you never imagined this would be the outcome but now that it had happened, who were you to say no?

And if others wanted to join...

Your thoughts were cut off by the feel of something warm and wet around your cock. Jiwon had taken it fully into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she bobbed her head up and down the shaft. Meanwhile, Chaeyoung had wrapped her hand around the base, pumping your shaft in time with the bobbing of Jiwon's head. Your eyes were fixed on their teamwork, mesmerized by the sight unfolding while reveling in the pleasure.

"Shit," you hissed.

"It feels good doesn't it, PD-nim?" Chaeyoung asked. "She's small but she still swallows your cock like a pro."

Her eyes locked onto yours, gaze bearing down into your soul. You had never quite understood the concept of eye-fucking until that very moment.

Of course the answer to her question was obvious. From the way your body reacted to the look on your face to the swell of your length each time it hit the back of Jiwon's throat. If things kept going like that you'd be at your peak in no time. Which wasn't exactly a bad thing given you had little time to waste. On the other hand, you had yet to experience Chaeyoung's throat.

"If she keeps going like that I won't last," you grunted in response.

Chaeyoung grinned and Jiwon doubled her efforts.

"Don't be so greedy," Chaeyoung chastised her.

The shorter girl popped off of your cock with a long slurping sound, offering it to Chaeyoung who quickly picked up where her friend had left off. Her head bobbed on your cock, her short raven-cut hair swaying back and forth. You could only watch, mesmerized as her tongue slid against the underside of your cock. Jiwon didn't sit idle, one hand moving to fondle your balls while the other slipped past the waistband of her yoga pants.

"This is so hot..." she trailed off.

The way her eyes were glued to Chaeyoung you weren't sure if she was speaking to you or merely talking outloud to herself. Either way, you didn't disagree.

After a while, Chaeyoung would pull-off then offer it to Jiwon. The cycle continued in that manner. Together they switched between who had the honor of taking your cock in their mouth, letting the other take your cock in hand. One would stroke your cock or fondle your balls while the other gagged herself on your rod.

At one point, Jiwon was sucking your cock while Chaeyoung took one of your balls into her mouth, sucking on your scrotum. Your eyes rolled back, a deep moan echoing off the bathroom walls; discretion completely forgotten for a moment.

Irresponsible and unprofessional? Absolutely. Did you regret it? Absolutely not.

Truth be told, you were still somewhat blue balled from your interaction with Yewon and this felt like exactly what you needed. Besides, it didn't seem like either girl was keen on spilling any secrets.

"Jesus," you muttered under your breath, "Girls, I'm almost there..."

Chaeyoung, who had been taking her turn, popped off of your cock her chin dripping with saliva and pre-cum, "Let's not leave our PD-nim disappointed then. Give him the grand finale."

"Grand finale?" you repeated, slightly dazed and balls aching.

They gave no further explanation, instead leaving you to watch as they moved to either side of your engorged rod. First, they closed the distance between each other, making out with your cock shoved in between their lips. It fell under the category of strangely erotic. Their spit coated your cock as the two trainees made-out, giving you the impression that this wasn't the first time they had done this.

A thought of inspiration struck you. A firm hand was placed on the back of each girl's head. They seemed to understand what was going to come next as their lips puckered around your cock, creating a funnel for you. Immediately you began thrusting between their lips, fucking both of their mouths at the same time while they looked up at you from their position on their knees. If you had any inhibitions left, they evaporated then and there.

"Fuck," you groaned, "I'm so fucking close."

The girls hummed their approval, vibrations against your cock bringing you even more pleasure. God, you would have loved nothing more than to coat their pretty faces with your semen but that seemed like it would create a hard cleanup and even harder explanation. Instead, you kept thrusting between them until finally your cock began to twitch. They watched as you bit down on your bottom lip, length shooting rope after rope of cum that splattered onto the tiled floor. Your head rolled back for a moment, bracing yourself against the bathroom sink.

What the fuck just happened, you thought.

You were brought back to the present by the feel of lips around your cock, cleaning you off.

"Well, I'm horny now," Jiwon stated bluntly as she stood on her feet. "If we had more time..."

"Yah," the taller one hit her shoulder as she stood, wiping her bottom lip, "You're insatiable you know that?"

Jiwon laughed and you could only watch, dick still exposed, as the girls bantered as if they hadn't just sucked you dry. "We should..."

"We'll go," Chaeyoung cut in. She leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. "You should get cleaned up."

Jiwon followed suit, though somewhat adorably, she had to tip-toe to reach your cheek, "Don't forget us during evaluations, PD-nim."

She gave you a wink and just like that the two girls walked out the bathroom, leaving you with your thoughts. Or rather lack of thoughts. Which wasn't a bad thing given you had no idea what to make of this situation. Instead you got dressed; grabbed a few paper towels, wiped up the evidence of your rendezvous and splashed water on your face. When you looked in the mirror, you almost didn't recognize the slight smirk on your features.

"Hopefully Jessica didn't notice my absence," you muttered as you left the bathroom.

"So that's where you were," a voice called.

You looked up to see a face that took you a moment to recognize. She was one of the trainees you had been introduced to earlier. Haewon if you remembered correctly. She had short, straight hair that neatly framed her face. Her eyes were wide and attentive while her lips were full and plump with round cheeks. She was taller than Jiwon but only just.

"Ms. Jung was looking for you," she said.

"O-oh," you stammered, before clearing your throat. "Yeah. I was just on my way back."

You swallowed thickly, eyeing her unblinking expression. It was unnerving really, the way she stared at you arms crossed over her chest. You couldn't tell whether she was judging you or just so disinterested she couldn't bother to pretend. Had she seen Jiwon and Chaeyoung coming from this area too?

"So, uh, I'll just be heading back," you started.

Suddenly Haewon broke into a wide smile, practically beaming at you, "Alright then. See you tomorrow PD-nim!"

With that she walked off, her expression dropping the moment she turned away from you. You were left baffled and confused as you decided to shake it off and head back to Jessica. If she hadn't called you out on fooling around then that was a win enough for today.

As you neared the practice room, you spotted someone standing off to the side. Another one of the girls, though her name escaped you. She seemed upset as she talked on the phone. For a moment you considered going over to her and checking to make sure everything was alright only to stop yourself.

You hadn't even accepted the job offer yet and you were getting involved with these girls. The least you could do was not add emotional involvement to the list as well. You swallowed the impulse to help, maybe you'd bring it up to Jessica when you got the chance. She might know what that was about.

[PRESENT]

When you got back Jessica had already dismissed most of the girls for the day. The two of you decided to call it a day, after all despite your speech you still had an official decision to make.

You pulled out your phone, scrolling to your uncle's contact information. Your lips pressed together in thought. In many ways it was a no brainer, even ways that it shouldn't be. In other ways the more you learned about these girls the more you hesitated. If you failed you'd be doing more than just taking your uncle's money. You closed your eyes, your mind briefly flashing to images of your load covering Jiwon and Chaeyoung's faces. The decision was easy, wasn't it?

"What did you always say, uncle? It's about the journey not the destination," you muttered to yourself.

You quickly typed out a message.

"I'm in."

[the-monkeies-girl]

have any thoughts how caesar or noa would cope with jealousy?

Love how I saw I wasn't gonna post but i just cannot stop myself LOL.

Caesar.

Comes across as being incredibly put together, almost to the point where he becomes deathly reserved and like he’s simply ignoring you. Which he is not. Caesar definitely feels the need to separate himself from those types of emotions purely for the greater good of the Colony. Jealousy, especially in his mind and seeing how envious humans are and how that in itself can tear apart even the strongest bonds, was absolutely a moniker of weakness. He’d rather be tied to a tree and left to die from exposure to the elements than ever verbally admit that he was jealous. 

Reality is, despite his cold deposition, he’s about to lose it in whatever situation it is that causes the feeling to rise in him. He’s slow to jealousy out of confidence, knowing exactly how important he is, which can cause some contention in the idea that he’s being arrogant.

You’ve asked him if he was jealous after he had abruptly pulled you away from spending time with Luca. He more abrasively accepted getting that wave of protective jealousy that washed over him like the ocean; especially when you’re spending more time with other Males. Just comes from the throes of the hierarchy. You were his. His to choose, his to tear apart and delve into, his to absolutely destroy if he wanted, the nature of his hands grasping at your rib cage as you wrangled under him… Caesar shuts his eyes tightly and thinks about that. His Colony needed to know that you were only his.  His eyes said it all and you didn't know how to respond to him after he flew into a small arm of defense. “Worried,” He muttered in that typical gruff voice of his. It sent your senses sky-high, “About you…. About… What others might be… thinking…”  His hands were fast to sign at you the things that you did not understand, about how his mind worked. Telling you things about how strong he needed to be, how his Colony relied on him being the best, being the strongest and that you were heavily mistaken. He was not jealous.There was absolutely no way. Tentatively, he asks for your forgiveness after he flies off the radar like that. He bottles his emotions, especially ones that were so human by design and he knows that you meant no harm by asking him if he was jealous. He got defensive as he interpreted you asking him if he was asking if he were weak and compromised.

Caesar, late at night in the nest he now shared with you, reflecting on his emotions. He’s sleepless, sitting up and looking to the right out the crevices between the planks of wood that made his nest. His mind pattering along with the rain that was falling gently from the purple-hued sky outside. This was not just his space anymore, it yours as well. He feels you move ever so slightly next to him, grasping at an animal pelt and tucking it near your face. His green orbs admire the curves of your body under said pelt, the soft rise and fall of your breathing. There was a brush of a bite mark against your neck. He huffed out of satisfaction knowing that he had done that, maybe two or three hours ago. He had every right to be jealous of others' attention on you, he thinks to himself while looking at you. He chortled to himself, shutting his eyes in some attempt to wipe his mind of the floodgate that was opened. One thought did give him a bit of solace as you moved, now shuffling your way towards him to press tightly into his side. He’d rip the face off of any Ape who even gave you a passing glance that tip-toed the invisible line between friendliness and flirtatiousness that Caesar made in his mind.

Noa

Has absolutely no clue how to even begin to process or cope. He’s not felt this before, so he supposed it made sense that he didn't know what to do with the sickeningly addictive feeling he got when he was around you. He did things so equally with Soona and Anaya, there was never any need for blatant jealousy to arise. Well… Until you came stumbling into his life and then it happened at the most random of all moments. 

You smiling at Anaya? Absolutely feral. Noa would watch your mouth pull back before looking at his friend and then back to you. He wanted to make you smile like that. It should be towards him, he thinks almost gagging at the self-entitlement. Noa was not comfortable with that. He often fell by the waist side for everyone else’s well being. Why was he suddenly concerned so greatly with how you were reacting to others?

You getting a compliment from Soona? He wanted to give you a compliment more. He wanted to tell you things that got your heart to race, your blood to pound, your legs to fall under him as your arousal hit him, matching in crept intensity. He wanted it all.

If he notices you spending more time with others, male or female, Noa tends to gravitate towards you and stick around like metaphorical glue. The closer he is to you, he figured, the easier it was to bide his time for your attention. He’s not quite sure of how to interpret the feeling he gets when he looks at you, the way your expressions changed around others, the delicious way you threw your head back in laughter giving a wonderful display of your jugular that drew Noa’s attention almost every single time. A wash of aggressive thought would hit him and he’d love to know what that hot skin would feel like against his face. Against his teeth, marking you as his own so others were well aware to back off.  

Once the anger would teeter down, Noa was often left wondering if you’d ever smile at him like that personally. Give him the light of day, give him your undivided mind and body. Noa does very little to stop his thoughts from going off the charts and delves into the prospect of making you his own just to cure his vile curiosity if you would accept satisfaction from him. Accept his soothing. Accept him to be your mate; he felt like he was going to come undone physically just imagining that. How you must feel under his rough hands, how you would gasp at him, hands in his fur, how you would smile longingly at him as he returned from a hunting trip, pressing his head gently against your own before proceeding back to the nest you came to share... These were things he had seen other Apes doing, he wanted to experience with you. He tries to keep himself grounded while watching you and takes meager solace when you would look at him, pay attention to him. Do anything... Towards him. His jealousy would slowly dissipate with time and Noa often found himself falling into a minor state of meloncholy thinking about the prospects he had in front of him and how the only one he seemed so adversely invested in being his advancements with you.