#for now I am making do with occasionally pulling a Lays book from my shelf flipping to a page and having a Big Emotion about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imagines-hoarder · 3 years

Text

House Warming - Bucky Barnes

Summary: Hopping through some standout moments in making Bucky's apartment a place worth coming home to. (This definitely could have been a headcanon but I refuse to do headcanons at this time.)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 2.6 k

Warnings: fluff with a lil angst

A/N: I have finished all the assignments left for my degree and decided to sit down and write today. This is probably trash but idc because it has been written and therefore I may as well release it. It's been a while since I've written and years since I've truly tried dipping my foot into a different fandom, but I figured I'd give it ago. Please don't forget to leave comments, I love interacting with y'all. Thank you @bwbatta for the dividers! xoxox

Masterlist

It all started with a damn candle. A ‘sandalwood & vanilla orchid’ candle tucked away in a reused cyan jar.

“I found it at the art market down the street last weekend,” you said as you placed it in the corner of the living room window. “You know we have to support local business.”

“And I shouldn’t assume this is your way of telling me my place smells, right?” Bucky quipped from the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in his hand and a lazy smile on his face. He’d just gotten back from a 12-day mission with Sam, and the last thing he had on his to-do list was to buy candles.

The smile grew firmer as you put yourself into his arms. “Complete opposite, actually. I bought it cause I thought it smelled just like you.” You hid your face within his chest, and he thanked the stars that you couldn’t see the warmth rising in his cheeks. His barren apartment felt a little bigger with a candle in the windowsill.

From there it became decorative pillows… and a couch to hold them. The small living room had quickly become a mess by the time you both had brought it up to his fourth-floor apartment, furniture wrap and packing peanuts strewn everywhere.

“I still don’t know why you needed to buy a sofa this big,” Bucky grumbled as he leaned over the back of the beige three-seater, looking down at your splayed out across its cushions.

“Don’t get me wrong, babe. I love the transient bachelor look you’ve got going on here, but you need more furniture than an armchair,” you mumbled between heavy breaths as you tried to regain control from maneuvering the couch into the apartment.

“And the pillows?” A laugh fell from your lips as you watched him look at the indigo cushions with a remarkable amount of disdain. Who buys pillows made just to look nice on a couch?

“They add character.”

“I didn’t think character was an area we were lacking in. Transient bachelor, remember?” He walked around the couch and shifted you over so he could lay beside you. You instinctively curled into him as you both closed your eyes. For a second the place felt like home. “I also don't know how you plan for us both to fit on this couch every day along with the pillows.”

“Don’t worry about it,” You looked up from his chest with a mischievous glint that made his heart skip. “It’s a pullout bed too. I’m sure it’ll be firm enough even for you.”

The home improvements didn’t stop there, but Bucky refused to admit how much he enjoyed them.

He liked having a place and person to come home to. After you had bought neutral bedding for his room, you’d spent an evening putting together ‘his and hers’ trestle bookcases for either side of the bed. He’d try to keep up his crabbish demeanor as you argued that ‘you needed a place to set your books for when you slept over,’ and a side table could no longer contain the small collection you had spilling over. Even still, he couldn’t find it in himself to banter much about the minor changes you made to make the place feel lived in.

And God, did he love living with you around. Between missions, his continued therapy, and trying to find his place in a world that had tripled in opportunity since his youth, he knew that he never had to question who he was and where he fit in when he walked through that door. You still occasionally slept at your own apartment when he was away, but he could always count on you being asleep in his bed by the time he came home.

One toothbrush in a glass became two, and from there, hand creams, face masks, and cotton pads cluttered the bathroom counter, packed away in their clear containers. You had made sure to keep lavender bath salts on hand for the late-night baths you took together when he woke up in a panic, unable to close his eyes again for fear of falling back into a nightmare.

It took time and working through plenty of hesitation before Bucky could progress from sleeping on the pull-out sofa to the bed, but ever since, you found your nights attended by restlessness whenever you weren’t wrapped in his arms.

Once your lease was up and you had a lengthy conversation about your inability to rest without him, you quickly filled the apartment with brown boxes. Bucky had been no less than astounded by how much you fit into them. From then on, no nook or cranny was without a vase or shelf.

“How many mugs does one house need,” Bucky asked skeptically while he continued to carefully pull them from their paper wrappings.

“Oh, come on! They’re fun!” You exclaimed, wrapping an arm around his waist as you took the Charlie Brown mug from his metal palm. “Plus, we go through enough coffee around here to justify some extra mugs.”

After you put the mug into the lowest shelf of the cabinet, you busied yourself with filing away the spices one cabinet over. No matter how much he tried, Bucky couldn’t pull his eyes away from you, lost in your own world as you chipped away at unpacking your belongings, making yours his, and vice versa. The domesticity in the little things you did was something he could get used to, and he wanted to return the feeling of normalcy as much as he could. He was far from the average boyfriend, but you remind him that could be a good thing. You never wanted to be average, but in these small moments, as you both did what normal couples do, he felt that he could create a new normal with you.

“So your Christmas gift came in already, and it’s too big to hide.” Your awkward tone carried over the phone as he exited a station ten minutes away from the apartment. Even though his neck ached and the cold nipped at the top of his ears, he couldn’t stop himself from releasing a breathy laugh.

“I thought you said you were good at this gift-giving thing, doll,” he teased you as he maneuvered his way to your shared apartment.

“Oh, don’t you fret, baby. I am the best gift-giver in all of New York City. I just slightly miscalculated how big this thing was and have realized it won’t fit into our closet.”

He tsked with a smirk on his face. “If you say so.”

“Hey, you gave me my Christmas gift a week ago.”

“Yeah, that’s because I didn’t know if I’d be back before Christmas.”

“Well, you will be, and I’m glad you are,” your voice softened lovingly as he pulled out his keys to the front of the building.

Bucky had gotten used to your love, but he’d vow to never take it for granted. All the pain he’d endured had somehow led him to you, the person who didn’t see his broken pieces as a burden or a project but as a potential to be whatever he desired.

When he hung up the call and unlocked the apartment, his brows furrowed into one; the apartment was pitch black. It was only when he heard your soft footstep walking towards the entrance that his face relaxed.

Before he could even kiss you, you had your palms firmly placed over his eyes. “No peeking; your gift is in the living room.”

The uncertainty in what you could have got him made his stomach clench. “Is it an animal?”

You slowly dragged him through the front hallway, making sure to avoid crashing into the entryway storage table. “I’m sorry to say it’s not alive.”

“Is it a nice welcome-home spread with candles, fruit, and the pullout bed all set up?”

He could feel your eyes roll to completion. “Easy there, sergeant. That’s for later.” You pulled him down to sit on the couch, and he kept his eyes closed as you pulled your palms away, moving to turn on a lamp. “Okay, Buck. open up.”

When he opened his eyes, it took him a moment to understand what he was seeing nestled against the wall; when he did recognize it, he could only form two words “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit indeed.”

He was quick to stand up and cross the room, eager to get a good look at the walnut centerpiece. “Does it work?”

You scoffed as you moved to kiss his cheek. “What kind of girlfriend would get her ancient boyfriend a broken phonograph console?”

He didn’t even attempt to answer as he bent down to wrap his arms around you, his lips eager to find yours. “A fucking Magnavox radio and phonograph,” he mumbled against your lips.

“A working Magnavox radio and phonograph, you mean.” When you pulled away and saw that his face held a glow reserved only for special occasions, you knew you had made the right choice. “I’ve got some records wrapped up if you want to open those now too.”

You yelped in surprise as he picked you up and made his way towards your bedroom. “I’ve got something else I’d like to unwrap first.”

Bucky Barnes had grown up in a period when the average family could seldom afford nice things or much of anything at all. The Great Depression has resulted in the slogan ‘Make it do or Do without,” being ingrained into what memories he still had, and 'doing without' had become commonplace for the Barnes household.

That’s why every gadget and gizmo you added to your household left him in awe. For much of his life, including the decades he spent as a weapon for Hydra, he hadn’t been allowed to call anything his own; he was still getting used to living so plentifully, both in love and in life. But now, he could barely move and he thought it had all been taken away from him.

The attack was supposed to have been contained, at least three miles away from the apartment. Anything less, and he would have made you visit your family upstate instead of just suggesting it. By the time Sam had told him that there’d been some confirmed damage within a block of the apartment, Bucky was already on his way home. He couldn’t think of anything but the worse: you trapped in a collapsing apartment building or pulling up to find no building there at all.

He felt his lungs fill with air again as he pulled up to your building, completely intact regardless of the severe damage less than a five-minute walk away. It felt like both seconds and hours between when he parked his outside and unlocked the front door.

“He doesn’t have his phone on him, mom. How am I supposed to…” you trailed off from your call as he walked into the living room, turning your head away from the Breaking News report you’d been glued to for the last hour. “Wait, I’ll call you back. Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll call you back.” Your eyes never left his as he walked over to you, hanging up the phone with worry in your eyes. “Buck, are you oka-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he pulled you off of the couch and into his arms. His grip was less reserved than he usually kept, but he made sure not to hurt you, eager to keep you in his arms, where he knew you were safe. A single tear fell from the corner of his eyes as he realized the real possibility that he could have lost you if you lived even 5 minutes closer to the attack. You stayed like that for a while, gathered tightly in his arms as you both settled onto the floor You didn’t push him to verbalize his fear; you already understood it. And it took this occurrence for him to realize he never wanted to experience this feeling again.

Bucky was quiet for the rest of the evening, and while it worried you, his fear had been evident enough not to require questioning. The city-wide cleanup had lasted all hours of the night; for the first time in all the years you had lived in the city, the sounds of the whirring of vehicles clearing debris off the street had been too close to ignore. The sun was rising before a single word was said between you and Bucky, tangled together on the sofa as the first ray of light made itself known.

“You’ve spent so much time piecing this place together, doll.” His voice was raspy. You know he hates when you see him cry, but his pain was always evident in his voice. “And it could have been all wiped away in seconds.” You let a heavy silence settle between you as you traced a pattern into his shoulder. He couldn’t bear to say it, but you knew what he meant: You could have been gone within seconds. “I just… I don’t ever want to feel like this again.”

You’d both gone through so much to make your relationship work. Nearly normal was as close as you would ever attain to being an average couple. The distance, the days without contact, and the ever-present fear that anything could pull you away from one another was something that had taken time to work through.

You looked around the living room and saw the place you had built together. There were photos and books scattered on any flat surface, a leftover mug half-filled with cold tea, and a record left out on the phonograph. The apartment looked like what love felt like; a messy combination of everything you and Bucky. But this apartment could not contain everything that ‘home’ was; only Bucky could do that.

The words fell from your mouth before you could restrain them. “Maybe we should move.”

Your eyes found each other, and you both sat in silence, though it felt lighter, invigorated with the new proposition.

Before he even responded, you could see tension dissolve from his shoulders. “Where do you want to move?”

You hadn’t thought that far ahead, only being able to provide him with a shrug. “I don’t know… maybe upstate, maybe somewhere else.”

“Your mom would like you being Upstate.”

“My mom would love us living next door too, but I don’t see that in the cards anytime soon.” You got a ghost of a smile for that.

“We could probably afford a house if we moved out there,” he said as he moved his lips to meet your forehead.

“Buck, I’d move anywhere with you. As long as we have each other, then we have all we need to rebuild this place.”

He pressed soft kisses to the crown of your head, and you swore you felt his chest flutter. “Tomorrow, I’m gonna look for some places, bigger ones too.” He tilted your head up to find your eyes, and you were sure that all of the love you carried for each other was incredibly visible at that moment. “You have made this apartment something worth coming home to. Now let me give you a house to make a home.” Your skin tingled with adoration as you pulled him as close as possible, burying your face into his neck.

You didn’t want to let go. You wanted to lay in this room, in this bed, and in this moment until the end of time, but you knew that something bigger and better was on the horizon for you and Bucky.

“All I heard is that you’re buying me a house.” His laugh was music to your ears.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff

514 notes · View notes

howfarethestars · 3 years

Note

Val has in universe Thor merch

The first item is a gift from Korg. An action figure, generous in body proportions, inaccurate in facial features, but an action figure all the same. It came from one of those Midgardian super stores, the kind that she hates but Korg and Thor frequent often. It’s after one of their trips that he gives it to her. It immediately goes on the shelf in her office, right next to a framed picture of her and Thor on the beach and the dying succulent she can never remember to water. It’s cheesy (and Norns, it’s ugly), but for whatever reason, she likes the little guy. Whenever Thor is off doing shit with the Guardians or the Avengers or occasionally doing actual work, it reminds her of him. And it makes her laugh, so fuck it. The Plastic Thor stays.

She doesn’t tell Thor. Obviously. Because if he knew he’d never let her hear the end of it. Which might have been her fault, actually, since she always teased him about his childhood (adulthood, too, why lie?) obsession with the Valkyries. Either way, she may have made this bed, but she’d be damned if she lay in it. Anytime Thor visited her office, Plastic Thor went in the bottom drawer of her desk. And if he surprised her? It was a race to distract him before he noticed it. Luckily all she had to do was loosen a few shirt buttons to leave his head spinning.

If it was just Plastic Thor, it might not have been a problem. But it kept going. Korg had given her a shovel and despite her best efforts, she was digging a hole to the other side of the earth.

The first t-shirt is just too stupid to leave on the hanger. A-THOR-ABLE, in big ballon-font letters, written across a picture of Thor’s face. Again, not exactly accurate. Thor’s nose is missing it’s little bump and his beard is a bit too thick, but it’s Thor. And it’s tacky and it’s ugly, and after a trip to a gas station ten miles outside of New Asgard, it’s hers.

That t-shirt is the first thing Thor learns about because she can’t resist sleeping in it every night. The material is softer than it should be, given the fact that it was dirt cheap and came from a gas station. She first shows it to Thor on a night when he’s good and tired out (he’s less likely to tease her when they’ve been fucking). She goes into their shared bathroom naked and comes back with a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth and The Shirt reaching her thighs.

“What is that?” He’s stretched on on the bed like a cat and naked like one, too. He lifts his head to see her with great effort. “Are you wearing my merch?”

Brunnhilde shrugs. “It’s a comfortable shirt.”

Thor lifts his brows, and Brunnhilde can just hear what’s coming next, so she stomps forward before he gets the chance to finish. “Who’s the fan—“

She smacks him with a pillow across his smug face. “Shut up or you’re sleeping on the couch.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, sheepishly pulling the pillow away from his face. His cheeks are red and his hair is messy now, but she gives him a mint-flavored kiss, anyway. Only for him to murmur, “Fan-girl,” against her lips.

She hits him again.

Despite all this, she doesn’t exactly stop acquiring merch. The next thing is a mug that reads, If He Be Worthy (Of Coffee), and it’s definitely the worst thing she’s ever spent money on, but she uses it religiously. Then there’s another shirt, this one slightly more presentable, with just a cartoon version of Thor and the hammer. Thor buys her a magnet version of his helmet (“How do they even know about my helmet?”) and does so with minimal teasing. By the end of her shopping spree, she has a collection of comic books regaling completely false stories about Thor, 3 more action figures (all of which are deformed and hilarious), another mug with his face on it (this time a printed paparazzi picture taken while he was getting lunch with the Avengers years ago), and literally ten more t-shirts.

“Am I still not allowed to tease you?” Thor asks her one day in her office when she’s rearranging the mugs and action figures on her shelf. “I didn’t even have this much Valkyrie stuff as a child.”

“Right; because they were selling so much Valkyrie merch in the markets,” she retorts with an eye-roll. She turned around, arms folded over her chest. “You can tease me once a week.”

Thor chuckles. Coming around behind her, he gives her a kiss on the jaw. “I think I can handle that.”

It’s a few weeks later, and Thor had been in New York for days. She’s in her office again, staring sullenly at Plastic Thor on her shelf, when he bursts through the door with a gift bag in hand. She stands up, hands out, expecting another shitty piece of Thor merch to cherish.

“You’ll never guess what I found,” he breathes, holding the bag up out of her reach. She all but pouts at him, until he sits the bag on the desk. “It’s a gift for you, technically so you get to open it, but…no, just open it. I’ll explain later.”

Brunnhilde rolls her eyes, but she’s curious now, so she pulls out the crumpled tissue paper. Inside there’s a folded t-shirt with just the collar showing. Her eyes flick to Thor, who’s practically buzzing with excitement. The shirt is soft in her hands. When she gets it out of the bag finally, she hoists it into the air like a flag.

“Oh my god,” she gasps when she sees. In big blue letters, Valkyrie on top of a cartoon version of herself in the silver armor she’d worn to battle with the Avengers. The art is shockingly accurate, except this one has her hair in two long braids down her chest rather than the many she’d been wearing at the time. But hey, it’s her own merch. “You found this?”

“Yep,” he says, grinning like a maniac. “It’s my size. I figured you could wear mine and I’d wear yours.”

A swell of affection sweeps into her chest. She rushes forward and grabs the front of his shirt in her hands. Her lips hit his with a mhph from Thor. Her hands come up to cup his cheeks.

“I love you,” she breathes, “It’s perfect.”

“I love you, too.” He’s smirking when he adds, “Fan-girl.”

#marvel #mcu #thor #my writing #thor x valkyrie #valkyrie #brunnhilde #request #mcu fic #marvel fic #thor fic #valkyrie fic #happy birthday reen <3 #long post

24 notes · View notes

honestsycrets · 4 years

Text

Say Your Piece II: Heart Breaker

❛ pairing | hvitserk x reader, hvitserk x ?

❛ type | double triple? shot, mistakes were made au

❛ chp summary | after the reader says she doesn’t want hvitserk; he makes a bad decision. it gets worse from there.

❛ tags | plus size reader, verbal arguments, extreme social anxiety, extreme body insecurity, drinking, hateful words, illustrator hvitserk x writer reader, mention of infidelity, shame, OCs, sexual frustration, blackmail, cheating mentioned, verbal abuse, sexual blackmail, poor communication? it’s more likely than you think. tags to be added.

❛ request | So Hvitserk request (you a asked for it 😂) Remember the Little Lovers event and the self-conscient plus size reader who didn’t want to have sex ?Well I didn’t get the sex lol. I want my Hvitserk to show a woman how her body is enjoyable. Thank you 😊 for @alicedopey

❛ sy’s note | i’ll eventually get you your sex scene, DAMN IT.

He wakes with a blaring headache caused by a stream of fresh morning light against his soft cheek. He pulls his arms around you-- or, what he thought was you, as the moment he does so, he knows it’s wrong. Where soft folds and overflowing breasts were, he finds thin limbs and small breasts.

It’s not your body-- he realizes all at once. The high rise apartment that overlooked the city wasn’t, either. It was the fruit of an accomplished older woman, whose many books hovered on a white shelf beside a white bed. Everything in the room holds the same pure standard. He flings himself from the bed, his naked ass colliding with a nightstand. The items ripple over the surface and settle into new positions. The woman pushes up, dragging the painfully monochrome white fluffy sheet to cover her flat chest.

“Hvitserk?”

Erika, in all her sharp-eyed glory, stares right back at him. Vomit spins up his throat, incited by the affection by with her eyes considered him. Hvitserk scrambles over the perfectly plain hardwood floors, upchucking up what’s left of his agitated stomach after his pathetic night out on the town.

“Hvitserk!”

Her spindly hand is at his back. Ordinarily, she was a comfort in your absence. That despite her pushing, and pushing, and pushing to get your name off “his” book, she would always be there for him in ways that a lover could not. Author-illustrators make so much more than being an illustrator alone, she reminded him. Her considerate words now feel like measured steps against his relationship. Her touch rips his skin into gooseflesh. Hvitserk works his shoulder away, his knuckles becoming white around the bowl.

“You drank too much last night.” it’s a non-question. Obviously, if he were here, he had. He groans his miserable response into the toilet bowl, wishing he could smother himself in the water, as it would be a better punishment than anything his girlfriend could do to him. “I’ll make you some coffee.”

Her steps become distant echoes. When he finishes and cleans after himself, he starts his search for his clothes. He picks them from a singular pile, draws them back on, and reaches for his phone. It bleats a miserable eight percent battery life.

“She didn’t call if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Ericka stands in a silvery slip; although he’s not sure when she put on some clothes. She hands him his cup of coffee and takes a seat on her “divorce couch”, a plain grey chair that she scammed her ex-husband out of. As she sits there, all long limbs, and purposefully sultry clothes-- the guilt strikes him.

Hvitserk takes a sip of bitter, burnt black coffee. She’s never been a great coffee maker but her heart is in the right place. It wouldn’t feel right to snuff her. After all, he probably spent the night before buried in her cunt.

“You called me to pick you up at the bar last night. You were so drunk all you wanted to do was lay on my chest,” Ericka pulls a sheer black kimono over her thin collarbones. His eyes fall on her hands. “I told you she’d break your heart. Women like that-- once they get over a certain weight-- they aren’t emotionally available to do anything but eat. It consumes them.”

“She ain’t like that.”

“If she’s not like that, then why did you have sex with me? Be honest with yourself, Hvitserk. Your needs aren’t met with her. That’s why you needed me.”

His mouth runs dry. Like he’s been chewing on his regret as if it were paper. He couldn’t remember the night before. It was like a bad memory he never wanted to recover. Hvitserk glances down to his cup as he sinks onto her bed.

“It was an accident,” he glares at the surface. “I- You know I can’t be with you, right? You’re--”

“Old?” she asks. He’s never cared about something as simple as that. Twelve years his senior or not, it wasn’t an issue.

“It’s not that. C’mon Erika, you know I don’t give a shit about age. She’s my baby girl.”

“You’re going to stay with her? A woman like that?”

“Like what?” Hvitserk sets the coffee on the nightstand as he snaps at her before he could bite it back. He knew what she meant. Erika’s long ranging sigh reminds him of Aslaug. How tenderly her hands would wrap around him even though they were truly tainted with alcohol perfuming off her breath.

“I’ve been your agent for years Hvitserk. We go through this every time you find a girl. This oen is by far the worst. She doesn’t care about you. Look at all that work you did for her yesterday. The pendant you bought her. The work you’ve put into her books! You even pick up all the food she eats. She won’t go outside of her house and you still expect that she’ll suddenly become this fat trophy wife on your arm.”

“Just because she’s fat don’t--”

“It isn’t about the fat, Hvitserk. How many times does she have to show you, or tell you for you to get the picture through your stupid head, huh? She doesn’t want you! And you have the balls to call me a fucking accident.”

“Erika--”

She leaps up from her chair. Hvitserk sucks in a hard breath and tries to find sense through the nonsense, looking through his phone. Erika was right. You hadn’t sent a message. Not in his texts, not on his social media. More egregiously, he spots a new post. Ericka’s hands fold over his, pushing him back to sit on the bed. She slides over his thin hips and takes a seat on his empty lap. It was painfully simple, painfully domestic, and painfully wrong.

“Let me tell you what I’ve learned in forty years,” Erika whispered in his ear. Her thin lips move, gliding like butter in his ear. “If someone doesn’t want you, there’s nothing you can do to change that.” Her fingers comb through his hair, like slimy tendrils. “But I’m here.”

Hvitserk tips his head nack, gazing at the ceiling. Her palm caresses his scruffy jawline to drag his attention from the ceiling to her soft blue eyes, a painless depth, if only he would listen to her words. Hvitserk shifts her back on the bed, loitering around her waist with a supportive hand on the base of her back.

“I know you care ‘bout me. I just-- need some time, okay?”

It doesn’t slip him that she’s scowling as he walks out of her home. There was someone he could count upon, when things were difficult, his phone buzzing in his palm reminded him of that.

“Hey, Ivar.”

Or, maybe not.

“You fucked her?” Ivar stopped chewing his pastry, ambling his head one way then another, laughing against himself. He took his mug of properly brewed coffee to his lips. Hvitserk regrets agreeing to meet him at the cafe. “What were you thinking sleeping with your agent?”

“I wasn’t thinking! I was drunk--” Hvitserk set his hand to his forehead. He has no appetite as he cycled through what he had done, searching out the moment that he called Erika. He fails to locate anything but quiet sobbing behind the neck of a beer bottle and a distant, squeamish feeling of fingers down his nape. “I think she took advantage of me.”

Ivar sets down his cup of coffee, picking up a fork and knife as he leaned over the table, lips punctuating each word.

“Yes, well, I am sure that will go over with your girlfriend well. I’m sorry, I slept with my skinny, well-established agent who has been wanting me to get rid of you. That bitch has been after you for years. What do you think she will do now? She won’t let you go.”

“She understands,” he reflects at the monochrome crowd. His plate is full but has gone cold with his lack of appetite. Normally, this was the place he came with his brother to binge breakfast and muse about women. Ubbe wouldn’t care about his issues: he never had time for anyone but himself. Not really. Ivar scoffed, gazing into the foot traffic flitting by their cafe.

“Tch, I’m sure she does. She will probably break up with you.”

He bobbed his head.

“I think she already has.”

A normal man would come to beg.

But Hvitserk draws in the deep quiet of the park. With only the barks of dogs, the giggles of children, and the occasional frequency from couples watching movies in the park, it’s a place of solace by the small pond.

He starts with an outline of Xiao’s small face. It’s a rough outline, budding and ready to be kissed with by watercolours. Soft pinks like petals of peonies droop in his photo. He must have blended this shade wrong. Line after line that he sweeps, he weeps. His phone jingles in his pocket and his heart tightens around his chest like a straight jacket to someone in an insane asylum. He must be going crazy-- if he too can no longer paint.

“Where are you?!” you boom on the other end of the line. Hvitserk fumbles his phone, suckling in a breath. Had Ivar told you? No, his brother wouldn’t. Not Ivar. He was never a gossiper.

“In-- in the park?”

“What has gotten into you? You could have at least texted me to tell me you were okay. I was worried sick!”

You? Worried sick? This wasn’t the you from yesterday. The one that pelted out how selfish he was for craving intimacy. The one that told him that all he wanted was to sexualize you. As if he were some sixty year old pervert with a camera in hand to click a picture of under your beautiful pastel skirts. Hvitserk sets the brushes into his cup of water and sets aside Xiao’s painting to dry.

“Hvitserk!”

“I’m here,” he blurts out. “I didn’t think you’d care. You didn’t call.”

“Like I didn’t I call you all night.”

Something cracks, deep in his belly. With all the days of work he’d done for you and you alone, he forgot himself in the mix. He jerked his phone back, frantically looking at his phone app. No recent calls meant what they meant. When he finds nothing, it only thrusts him into a further rage.

“Bullshit,” he belts out. “You didn’t. You didn’t care about me last night. You never fuckin’ do.”

“Hvit--” he turns off his phone. There was a sliver of a moment in which he regrets that on the basis of last night. Maybe you rejected him, but he wasn’t an idiot. A man simply didn’t cheat on his girlfriend because she said no.

He packs up his bag and heads toward the football field. It’s time to play football.

He smashes Ubbe on the field. If he wasn’t at peace with being an illustrator, maybe he could have been a ballplayer. Flipping the ball from foot to foot with Ubbe on his trailing his tail was fun, but watching him try and miss as he thwacked the ball on its net was even better. Unlike Ubbe’s well-proportioned body, he’s all long limbs and quick feet. Just the right combination to slip out of Ubbe’s grasp. Well, that was, until Ubbe tackled his ass onto the blades of grass, sending the both of them rolling through the grasp.

“Bro, really?!” Hvitserk laughs, dropping back onto the grass. The skid marks on his clothes would be unreal.

“If I can’t catch you,” Ubbe heaves, digging his hand into his pocket. He finds his phone there, vibrating with messages from Torvi: probably. Hvitserk shoves his arms behind his neck, drawing out breath after ragged breath.

“Wanna go eat?”

“Na,” Ubbe shoves himself onto your feet. “Your girl is here.”

His what? Ubbe rushes off. A sinking feeling came over his clammy hands. He opens his mouth to beg him not to go, to take him along with like he used to as a child. He’s terrible at making up and hours ago, he’d hung up on you. His lips press together, soothing himself with the false pretense that-- no, it would be fine. If you didn’t apologize, perhaps neither would he.

He finds you on the other side of the soccer field, fashioning his favorite sundress. There’s something glamorous about its corset bodice and its draped sleeves that left him breathless. He wills down his terrible arousal, drawn to the pendant he bought you nestled between your large breasts. You wait for him by his things, pulling the rim of a broad pale hat and looking down at beautiful chunky nude heels.

You’re beautiful and terrifying all in one. He regains himself enough to make his legs solidify from the liquidy mass they were seconds ago. He might feel much like a newborn calf falling over himself to get his things, but perhaps he looked better than he felt. Women like sweaty, stupid men, right?

“What are you doing here?” he picks up his things. “I thought you didn’t like to be seen in public.”

“You hung up on me,” you hold his tablet flush against your dress and offer it out to him. He takes it and secures it back in his bag. “I had to come to find you.”

“Yeah? I’ll bet.” Hvitserk wills down the painful throbbing behind his joggers, pulling his bag to obscure the pain he was in. The sooner he went home, the sooner he could jerk himself off without the overwhelming guilt of being, as he was, a whore. Why couldn’t he stay mad? He wanted to stay mad! “You look... nice. Never seen you looking so nice. What’s the occasion?”

“You like it?” You pull out the skirt and stop to do a twirl that he curses himself for stopping for. Normally, his girl wouldn’t even go outside. Who was this? He’s aware of others watching-- the fat girl in a flashy dress. “I wore it for you.”

“Yeah, I do.” He moistens his lips, his voice raspy and thick. “Looks like an angel.”

“Does that mean you’ll come back home?” You reach out for him. Your soft hands winding around his well-corded arm. He realizes then, the confidence in which you carried yourself masked the desperation in your hands. They trembled over his bicep. “I’ll be good, I promise I won’t yell at you again like that. I wouldn’t even be mad if you-- you found someone else to fuck. I know you-- I know you need it. If you can’t get it from me, I can wait on the side. As long as you’re not in love.”

“Hey,” he softened, settling his hand atop of yours. He stops midstep, turning on his high tops on the sidewalk. He takes your hands and listens waits for your outpouring of emotion. Traffic passes by him. They speak in hushed whispers. “Hey, hey, hey. Baby girl wait-- that’s not -- what are you talking about?”

“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to yell at you like that but you were pushing and pushing and wouldn’t stop! I didn’t know what to do. I want to have sex with you,” you squeeze his fingertips. “But you don’t know what it’s like to be fat, old virgin.”

He was trying to listen. He really was. The moment you spoke that word: that v-word, his mind went blank and numb. You’re still talking long after he’s stopped listening. Hvitserk sucks in a breath: it sends him into a flurry, pursuing the bone of your virginity long after you’ve stopped talking.

“What do you--” his lips twitch, drawing in a smile. “--mean a virgin?”

“I haven’t had sex-- I… I wanted to--”

His girl-- a virgin. He wants to smile, if not for the knowledge of the other night, waking up in Erika’s itchy sheets. Hvitserk knows that he has to tell you, he only doesn’t know how. You’re talking again.

“What did you say?” he asks.

“I want you to do it,” you answer. “Right now. Just forgive me.”

He about drops, a moistness coming over his mouth that he can’t-- exactly-- help. His palms feel just as hot, sweating as he pulls them free from yours. Clearing his throat, he slips his hand against the small of your back.

“Na, let’s… let’s take it easy. We’ll talk ‘bout it later.”

He wants that virginity.

But logically, oh woe is he, he knows it’s not really right to take someone’s virginity if they’re not all there. You’re not all there because you don’t know of that night. It’s like, consent, right? Bad consent was just jerking your ankle like some Viking and dragging you into bed with him. If he was going to do it, he told himself, you had to know what he’d done.

It was a slip-up.

Hvitserk finished another drawing for his new book independent of your input. It was a children’s book about good bodies-- because as he looked at your good body, he was reminded of Ericka’s cruel words. He wanted to do better for lil kids.

“Hvitserk, your phone is ringing,” you said pointedly from across the room where you sat like a madwoman. Your frantic papers sat nestled around a basket of shared chicken he made for lunch.

“Huh?” Tapping over, he recognizes Erika’s photo, planting a kiss on his cheek on his first big break. She had been the first one to really believe in him. It was a long time ago now, he reminds himself to change that to something more… suitable after last night. He gestures his fingers at you. “Thanks, baby girl.”

He answers the phone. The moment he does, he hears Erika’s flat voice snaking into a hiss. It’s a noise that he hasn’t heard. Not in all his years of having her as his patient agent.

“You’re with her, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m uh-- with Ubbe.” He throws you a glance. You tilt your head, he shakes his, and that’s the terrible loneliness of holding a secret. “Erika--” Hvitserk sighs, parting his lips to talk. She shushes him with such severity that he thinks she’s trying to lop his head off, too.

“Break it off.”

“What?”

He steps outside and leans against the cold metal door separating the high-rise apartments from, well, the outside world. He expects to see her standing out there. All he finds are the many cars parked on the street and the stillness of movement. It’s too quiet. The whistle of the wind through the street chills him.

“I know you’re with her. I can tell her for you if you’d like.”

“No. Don’t--” Hvitserk sighs, searching for the words in the silence. “I don’t think you understand. We worked through it.”

She laughs something from deep in her belly at him.

“I wasn’t asking. Either you do it— or I’ll make you do it. You obviously don’t know what’s best for yourself. Why else are you fucking around with some--” He collapses on the stairs, cradling the phone to his ear as she goes on. “Don’t think I won’t expose her for what she is. A thief.”

“She’s never-- Why the fuck are you doing this?”

“You told me you would take care of it. Something you’ve failed to do-- I should have known you couldn’t do it. ”

“If this shit is about yesterday--”

“I’ll give you one more chance to break it off if you come over tonight.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” There’s a pause on the other line. Then a chuckle. A long winded, painful chuckle. He should have known better. That night-- calling it an accident wasn’t exactly tolerable for a woman like Erika. She wasn’t the kind of woman who could be easily ignored.

“If that’s what I have to do.”

He chokes out a sob. Ivar was right. She wasn’t going to let him go.

“Fuckin’-- fuckin’ fine.”

@punkrocknpearls @flowers-in-your-hayr @tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @destynelseclipsa @soleil-dor @strangunddurm @superwolfchild-fan @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

#Hvitserk x Reader #Hvitserk x OC #Hvitserk/Reader #hvitserk's heathen feast #hvitserk ragnarsson x reader #it feels good to write my baby #Hvitty x Reader #hvitty/reader #vikings imagines #vikings imagine #hvitserk x plus size reader #Vikings x Reader

110 notes · View notes

justanotherblonde23 · 4 years

Text

When Marcus Met the Doctor

Author’s Note: Hey there Internet friends! So my buddy @autumnleaves1991-blog had asked me for a follow up on my original Marcus Moreno story. She was wondering how Marcus met the future Dr. Moreno. It was in an ask, but I can’t find it to save my life. I’m posting this on my iPad because my laptop isn’t playing nicely today, so I apologize if the format seems a little odd. I’m still learning! I gave the reader a last name and a nickname so I didn’t have to use y/n but I didn’t give any descriptions about physical appearance, so I hope you’ll be able to see yourself here. Please let me know what you think, I hope you enjoy - Kat

Warnings: swearing, single parenthood

Tags: @autumnleaves1991-blog @madness-roses @bisexual-space-slut @dindjarindiaries @frannyzooey @zeldasayer @cinewhore @revolution-starter @mrschiltoncat @softpedropascal @paniclana @jollyrancher87 @hdlynnslibrary @maybege @corrupt-fvcker @cyaredindjarin @scribbledghost @woakiees

Marcus was at his wit’s end. He’d been a single dad for all of three weeks after his wife decided that she wasn’t invested in being a mother or having a spouse that occasionally saved the world. What was he supposed to do with a kid that just turned 7, a two-month-old baby who started showing signs of powers, and a full-time job as one of the Heroics? He’d been up all night with the baby, Jules, because every time she woke up, she’d inadvertently started throwing things around the room...with her mind.

He had been around children with powers before, sure, but he had never encountered a child this young having powers begin to develop. Hell, his oldest, Missy, hadn’t even had her powers show up yet. He knew that each child was different, but this was way out of his league. He knew how to handle children; he loved children, especially his children. A powerful infant was not in his job description. He needed outside assistance, and he needed it yesterday.

It was a blustery Saturday, so he bundled himself and the kids up, making his way to Heroics HQ. There had to be someone there that could help. Walking into HQ was like walking into a completely different world. Uniquely powered individuals in multicolored hero outfits, scientists in lab coats, executives in suits, and a myriad of others all spent their time hustling and bustling through the gigantic building. In the middle of all this was Marcus, a dad in jeans, a grey V-neck, converse, and a leather jacket holding a bundled up super powered baby in the crook of his arm, with his hand gripping the small hand of his inquisitive little girl. He sighed, making his way to the building’s science and medical wing, trying to find the proper hallway and office number.

Finally, he found it, office 22A, the person who hopefully had the answers he needed for baby Jules. He knocked; he felt awkward just rushing in even though technically had an appointment. He hadn’t expected the door to be opened by the most beautiful woman that he’d ever laid eyes on. She smiled kindly, gesturing for him to enter. He couldn’t help but take in her appearance as he guided himself and Missy into the office. She was dressed professionally, wearing a pencil skirt, blouse, and heels topped with a lab coat, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her eyes shone with both care and enthusiasm; a soft smile graced her lips. He watched as she grabbed Missy’s hand, setting her up with toys in a corner filled with all sorts of things children loved. She was so gentle with the little girl, giving all of her attention to the child. Once Missy was situated and happily playing quietly, the woman turned her attention back to Marcus and Jules. She said something to him, but Marcus just stood there, blinking, a mixture of exhaustion and admiration rendering him speechless.

“Mr. Moreno?” a gentle voice inquired, her hand on his bicep snapping him out of his reverie.

Marcus blinked, shaking his head, willing himself to be in the present. “I’m so sorry, I’m completely worn out. Between work, the baby, and Missy, I’m just barely pulling through on my own. You can call me Marcus, by the way, Mr. Moreno just seems so formal.”

The kind smile was back as she led him to a couch at the back of the office, where they both sat down and got comfortable.

“So, Marcus, I hear that you are here to see me about your little one here. My name is Dr. Johnson, but mostly everyone around here calls me Iris. Please tell me what’s going on with the baby, and I can see what I can do for you.” She sounded so confident in her ability to assist him, not even knowing what the problem was yet.

“Iris? Is that your name?” Marcus accidentally wondered aloud.

The responding light laugh that Dr. Johnson gave him sounded like a perfect melody. “No, that’s not my name, just a nickname. One of my secondary abilities is a bit of telekinesis. When I activate that or my other abilities, my eyes turn well the color of irises, and the name just stuck.”

He nodded, absorbing the information while rocking Jules in his arms. She was dozing at the moment since this would ideally be her naptime. He studied her face, looking for what, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t even know where to begin, how to ask for something he wasn’t sure there was a solution for. It hit him then how young she was. How was someone so young supposed to help him?

“I sense some hesitation in you. If you have questions or concerns, I’m happy to address them. I want to be able to help you, but to do that, you also need to trust me.”

Marcus shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. He didn’t want to be rude or demanding, but this was his baby they were talking about here. It was his job to keep Jules safe, it was just him now, and he couldn’t stand the idea of her in any type of danger simply because he couldn’t figure out what to do about her powers.

Iris put her hand on his, causing him to look back at her again.

“Yes, I’m quite young, I just turned 28 last month, but that doesn’t make me any less qualified to help you and your baby girl. My greatest ability is my mind. I have nine doctorates, working on more as we speak, which doesn’t include my medical degrees. I am a doctor of pediatric medicine, as well as a surgeon for both children and adults. I’ve worked on most of the heroically enhanced beings that work here, you included, although you were unconscious at the time. I invent most of the tech that you and your fellow Heroics use every day. Those katana blades of yours, those are my work. As a father, I know that you’re going to be hesitant to allow anyone to help your daughter, especially someone who is young, like me. I assure you, Marcus, that my young age is made up for by my vast set of experiences. I would argue that I’m the best suited for this job out of anyone. Please, let me help you so that you can take care of your children to the best of your ability. Give me a chance here; I promise you won’t regret it.”

He had been expecting her anger at his hesitance, not her understanding. He was sure that he was about to be yelled at for doubting her. Instead, she calmly explained exactly who she was and why she was his best bet. Fuck, she was brilliant and willing to help. He needed to give her a chance and let her see this through, no matter how nervous he was.

“Iris, I apologize; I shouldn’t doubt you or your abilities. I’m pretty new at this single dad thing, and I’m just trying to take care of them the best I can. I’ve been doing mostly consultant work from home, but that’s only a temporary solution. I just-,” his voice broke, tears filling his eyes.

A tear dripped down his face, but the doctor caught it with her thumb, smoothing it away. She had tears in her own eyes, threatening to overflow. She enveloped him in as firm of a hug as she could with baby Jules still in his arms, letting him lay his head on her shoulder and permitting him to feel. All his sorrow, worries, and fears flowed out of him through his tears. Fingers carded through his hair, a hand rubbed soothing circles on his back, her words of comfort whispered in his ear. Marcus, you’re not alone. There are people who want to help. It’s okay, let it all out. He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but by the time he finished crying, he felt safe and cared for, something that he hadn’t felt in a while, not since far before his ex had left.

They spent the next half hour discussing what abilities Jules had exhibited so far, what Marcus’ concerns were, and what he needed to be a functional parent. He explained how the baby started showing signs of power less than a week after she was born, how she seemed to be able to move things with her mind, but that he wasn’t quite sure because, well, Jules was a baby and he was sure that she didn’t even realize she was doing it. He was worried because as time went on, the objects kept getting larger. Last night, somehow, she had moved the crib in front of the bedroom door when she woke up in the middle of the night for her bottle. He had ended up having to take the door off its hinges to even get into the room. Hearing his baby crying and not being able to get to her had scared him shitless. He’d ended up staying in the baby’s room all night to make sure nothing else happened.

As they talked, Jules had woken up and was beginning to fuss. Iris ended up taking the baby, giving her a bottle, and watching her abilities while still listening to Marcus. She was so good with little Jules, holding her, gently stroking her hair, whispering comforting words when she would get fussy. He saw books begin to float off the shelf in his peripheral vision, he got up to try and put them back, but Iris’ hand shot out, stopping him. She smiled up at him, raising a hand and pushing them back in place with her mind.

“I think I have something that will help.”

She stood up, still holding the baby, and went to her desk, grabbing a tiny silver cuff. She pressed a few buttons on the keyboard, bringing up various holograms all around the room. Marcus almost jumped out of his skin when she began to talk to an AI, sorting through her research until she found what she was looking for.

“This is my own design, it’s basically a bracelet that will contain Jules’ powers and abilities while she wears it. It’s waterproof, tamper resistant, and will only open with either your fingerprint or my own. As she grows, we’ll change the cuff size and lessen the suppression. When this little lady is old enough, the cuff will come off altogether and she will have full access to her abilities. The suppression will not cause her any harm or pain, I’ve made sure to try it on myself long term to be certain. This allows you to keep her safe without working yourself into exhaustion. We can meet a few times a month to assess her progress. This should help you all get into the groove of things, Marcus.”

He took the cuff, studying it, rolling it over in his hands. It felt like regular metal, nothing special. He titled it to see the inside. There were tiny sensors evenly spaced throughout and something that was blinking green. This was far beyond his paygrade as far as technology went. The fact that the woman in front of him invented this and was willing to use this to help ensure his baby’s safety was not lost on him. He was grateful that she had a solution, hopefully it would help.

“It won’t hurt her, right? I just want to make sure. Has this been studied long term? Are there any side effects?” he enquired, trying not to get too excited.

Iris shook her head as she lightly rocked Jules in her arms. “I’ve used this on myself, as well as some other children that have had their abilities show up a bit too early. I haven’t seen any drawbacks or side effects of the cuff so far, but I want to have you bring Jules in at least once every few weeks so that we can keep her closely monitored. You’ll also have my number, please feel free to contact me day or night if you have any concerns or if anything goes wrong. I’m here to help and it’s my main priority to make sure that this sweet girl can learn and grow safely, without the threat of her powers going awry. This problem is one that we can solve, Marcus.”

He nodded, her words were reassuring to be sure. Since he became a single father, he hadn’t really trusted anyone with the safety and wellbeing of his little girls besides himself. It was difficult to reach out and allow someone to help solve a problem when the one person he had trusted the most had shattered him. Iris was giving him a solution, she was asking for his trust in her and her science. He could do that for his kids, he had to.

Marcus handed her back the cuff, allowing her to delicately put it on Jules’ wrist. It didn’t even phase the baby one bit. She kept on as if nothing had changed at all. He let out the breath that he didn’t even know he had been holding. She seemed absolutely fine, content to be rocked in the good doctor’s arms. She handed her back to Marcus, allowing him to cradle his little one close.

The two adults scheduled baby Jules’ followup appointment for the next week so that they could see her progress and give Iris a chance to check the data and run some tests. They spoke for a few more minutes until Missy came up to get their attention.

“Daddy, I’m hungry.”

Iris got down on Missy’s level so that she could look her in the eye. “You did so well today, Missy. Thank you so much for playing quietly while your daddy and I talked about your baby sister. I’m very proud of you.”

Missy broke out in a huge grin, throwing her arms around the doctor’s shoulders.

“Will we get to see you again? Can I come and play here more soon?”

Iris returned the hug, smiling fondly at the little girl. “Your sister has another appointment here next week and you are more than welcome to come and play in my office again. It was very nice to meet you. I think your daddy will be taking you down to the cafeteria here for some lunch, how does that sound?”

Missy nodded enthusiastically, grabbing her father’s free hand and tugging him along.

“Thank you so much, Iris, I really appreciate all the time you’ve given us today.”

“The pleasure is mine, Marcus, really. I’m here to help.”

There wasn’t much more to be said as Marcus was dragged by Missy out the door and down the hallway, chatting about what type of lunch they were going to eat. The doctor stood in the doorway, watching the little family leave, happy that she could be of assistance. She liked Marcus, he seemed to love his children a great deal and was a good man.

As they got in the elevator, Missy’s sweet voice said, “Daddy, I like that doctor lady, she’s so nice. I hope we get to see her more. She’s so pretty!”

Marcus had to agree with his daughter, he liked Iris, too. He felt a tug in his gut telling him that he should get to know her more, that she was someone truly special. He decided then and there that he would try to make that happen.

#marcus moreno x y/n #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno #we can be heroes #pedro pascal

168 notes · View notes

bokutosworld · 4 years

Text

love’s sorrow | iwaizumi hajime

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x reader

wc: 1.7k words of angst, heartbreak, pain.

inspired by the prompts: “look, i know we agreed to be friends and everything but that’s what everyone says when they break up. i can’t take you asking me for advice on how to ask out the new person you’re interested in, okay? it’s killing me” AU + “it’s midnight, what do you want?”

ringggggg! ringggggg! RIIIINNNNG!

you slowly turned to the bedside table, extending an arm to grab your phone and check who was blowing up your messages and calls. the harsh light emitted by the small device stings your eyes for a minute before you could make out the contact name - iwaizumi.

what was he doing disturbing your deep and peaceful slumber at 12:51 am? you think for five seconds but decided to ignore him, putting the phone face down on the nightstand. you roll over to the other side, tugging your blanket closer to your body, when the ringer blasted again.

'ugh, what the hell,' groaning, you throw the duvet away and snatch your phone, accepting his call with much annoyance. you almost screamed into the receiver, 'it's midnight, what do you want, iwa?'

'can you come down for a bit?' you do not miss the sharp intake of his breath as he finally answers. you slowly rubbed your temples, contemplating whether to indulge him in his request and see him in your pajamas in the middle of the cold night. absentmindedly nodding, you agreed, 'alright. wait for me in the lobby.'

you put on a jacket and wore a cap to hide your messy bedhead before going down to meet with iwaizumi. on the elevator, your mind wandered to the possible reasons that he called you. was he in trouble? did he need money? or was he....

the doors to the elevator opened before you could even finish your thought. you took a breath and stepped into the lobby. your eyes quickly scanned the empty floor, looking for the male and you spot him seated in one of the couches, his head cradled between his hands. it was obvious that something was bothering him.

you took careful steps as you headed to where he was sitting. hearing your footsteps approaching, iwaizumi lifted his head and followed you as you walked across the lobby, stopping in front of him to meet his somber gaze. in all the years you've known him, you've come to terms that it wasn't uncommon for him to have a resting poker face. he was always one that was difficult to read.

after what seemed like an eternity of assessing the situation and staring into each other's soul, iwaizumi broke through the tension and smiled, 'well, don't just stand there.' he patted the spot next to him, 'sit here first.' you narrowed your eyes at him, guards up and suspicious towards his unusual behavior.

as you settled down, you released the breath that you didn't know you were holding and made yourself comfortable in the sofa. 'so, what's up,' you finally inquired. iwaizumi also slumped into the couch before bringing up a topic you have always dreaded, 'i met this girl.'

ah, there it was. your eyes instinctively shut, already feeling as if your heart was slowly being carved out of your chest and you mentally prepared yourself for his next words. he continued cautiously, 'she's in my class, we were partners for a project,' his gaze landed on you, noticing you taking slow deep breaths and he debated whether he should reach and comfort you. 'she's really great and smart. we are really getting along so well. i think i'll miss her when this term ends and we're not classmates anymore. so, i've been thinking, i want to ask her out.'

a cloud of silence enveloped the two of you in the lobby. the only sounds audible were the ambient music - a classical piece which you made out to be kreisler's liebesleid - and the occasional chatter by the guard and the receptionist by the desk. neither of you spoke up for minutes, letting what he just said sink in to your system. your mind was blank, you didn't know how to react, to reply.

finally, you asked, 'why are you telling me this?' turning to your side, you saw that he was already looking at you, his eyes worried but hopeful. his hands were on his lap, restless as he wanted to touch you, to make sure if you were okay. but his eyes were encouraging you to continue, 'i know we agreed to be friends and that it has been a year since we broke up. but don't you think this is too insensitive, too cold-hearted even for you?' you choked a laugh, shaking your head as you brought your glance to the apartment doors.

'i just thought you wanted to know,' iwa claimed. 'i figured you might appreciate hearing the news come from me rather than from others.'

you take back what you said earlier about him insensitive. as he uttered those words, you were reminded of how caring and gentle he always was. you were reminded of the many times those kind compliments and praises were once about you, how those longing words were once said towards you. you were reminded of the memories you shared with him, the five years you spent together with him, all of which came burning down in just one night.

sure, the break up was mutual and that you and iwaizumi agreed to stay friends after everything. he argued, 'just because we're not together anymore doesn't mean we should throw away our friendship!' you remembered how he casually threw his arms around you, bringing you close as he offered his friendship to you once more.

and now, you were wishing that someone could have stopped you from agreeing to his proposal. you were thinking back to the warnings you constantly received from your friends, telling you that it was toxic and unreasonable to stay in contact with him. you wished you didn't ignore them and listened because here you were now, hoping for some hole to swallow you and take you away from him. to be far from him as possible so you could finally move on.

'you don't need my permission to date, iwa,' you whispered.

'i'm not really asking -,' iwa insisted but you cut him off.

'then what? you're asking me for advice how to ask her out? how to make her swoon over you,' you scoffed, looking at him and for the first time in the night, he saw through your cap how heartbroken you looked. 'come on, you're iwaizumi hajime. you've got game, you're a gentleman. it would be her loss not to be with you.'

you couldn't take it anymore, you didn't need him to see you break down in the middle of the night, wearing pajamas in the dimly-lit lobby. you stood up, heading for the elevators, when you heard him follow you.

'y/n, wait. it's not like that,' he caught up to you, reaching for your wrists before you could get away further. but you sharply swatted his hand away the minute you felt his warm touch.

'don't,' your back was still faced to him, he saw you were slightly shaking and he swears he heard silent whimpers coming from your lips. he wanted so badly to comfort you but stopped when you continued, 'i'm trying hard, iwa.'

you turned to face him, your glare sending goosebumps to his skin and piercing through his soul. 'i'm trying hard, iwa. i know it's been a year, but it is taking all that i have to act as if we are just friends again. every night, i lay awake trying to forget what we had. you don't know how many times i wished i had a reset button so that we can go back to the way we were before we got together.'

it was breaking iwaizumi's heart to hear your confession. he didn't know you were still hurting. he was unaware of your struggles and he had only realized how selfish it was to come to you about his newfound love. he wanted to speak but you didn't let him.

'but each day, i know that i am missing you less. i don't see you anymore in the things that used to remind me of you. i don't look at photos of you anymore, our videos, i am slowly deleting them one by one. the coffee cup you had in my apartment,' you chuckled. 'i only recently got to hiding it in a box. it's slow but i am making progress. i'm getting better. so please, just drop this.'

the tears were now freely falling down your face and you couldn't care less. through your sobs, you still managed to give him a smile, 'if you like her, go for it. do this for yourself. don't think about my feelings anymore. that day, we both wished each other our happiness.'

you reached an arm out to pat his shoulder, 'i may be still searching for mine, but you already found yours. don't let it slip away.'

iwaizumi put your hand down, only to pull you close in an embrace. he was silently weeping, you felt his hot tears on your shoulder and you rubbed your hands on his back, 'we'll be fine.'

you pulled away and decided to tease him, 'i can't believe you called me down here for this. this could have been a conversation in the morning you know. we wouldn't have gotten sappy like this!' he laughed along with you, not leaving your side as you waited for the elevator.

as soon as the elevator arrived, you entered through the doors. for some reason, you were already feeling a little bit better, free, and relieved from crying out your last bit of feelings.

a chiming sound vibrated through the walls, signaling that the doors were about to close. you look at iwa, memorizing his face, his features, as if this was the last time you would see him.

'good bye, hajime.'

'good bye, y/n,' he said, giving you one last smile.

the doors shutting close felt as if the drawing of the curtains in a performance. it was as if you've reached the final page of a book and you had to put it back in the shelf. you hoped for better days ahead, you wish, 'i will get better.'

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuucreations #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu one shot #hq x you #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi drabbles #iwaizumi angst

227 notes · View notes

hockeylvr59 · 4 years

Text

Secret Love Part 4 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note:

Warnings: cursing, discussion of sexual activities

Word Count: 3,911

~~~~

You’d tossed and turned for almost an hour before you had eventually drifted off to sleep, only to be awoken by the Denver sunrise spilling through the window. Groaning softly you made a mental note for the shopping trip...curtains...Cale definitely needed curtains. Laying on the couch, you played on your phone for a few minutes before the need to use the bathroom finally took over.

After knocking quietly on Cale’s door with no response, you cracked it open hoping to sneak through to the bathroom without disturbing him. As you tiptoed across his bedroom floor, you couldn’t help but let your eyes fall on him. As expected, he was shirtless, blankets falling only midway up his exposed chest. His hair was a mess, and a relaxed expression covered his face. Quietly closing the bathroom door behind you, you chastised yourself for the heat that flooded through you. You were just friends and despite his now single status, that was all this was ever going to be.

Relieving yourself, you then quickly brushed your teeth before quietly moving back to the living room, easing his door shut behind you. His parents were going to be here in about an hour and after starting a pot of coffee you examined the contents of Cale’s fridge and cabinets. Finding bacon, eggs, and pancake mix you decided to make everyone breakfast. It was as you were moving around the kitchen that Cale finally appeared, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“You’re making breakfast?” He murmured, leaning in to kiss the top of your head.

“I am…” You smiled, checking on the bacon in the oven as you scrambled eggs in a pan on the stove. Cale poured himself a cup of coffee and you felt his eyes on you once more.

“Anything I can do?” He questioned after a moment.

“Get some plates?” You requested. “How do you want your eggs?” The clatter of plates filled your ears for a moment as Cale set plates beside you.

“However you’re making them is perfect.” He insisted, sharing a warm grin now that he was a little bit more awake. Nodding you took one of the plates and scooped a hefty portion of eggs onto it before pulling the bacon from the oven and the pancakes from where they were keeping warm in the microwave and piling those onto the plate as well.

“Eat up.” You grinned, turning to place the plate in front of one of the bar stools at the island. Doing another batch of eggs quickly you set everything aside to keep warm before serving yourself a much smaller portion. Taking a seat beside him, you shook your head as you watched Cale continue to dig into his breakfast. The moment felt a little too domestic and natural so you were thankful when there was a knock at the door that signaled that Laura and Gary had arrived.

It wasn’t long after that before you were quickly getting ready and heading out with Laura to go shopping for things for Cale’s apartment. The first place you stopped was Starbucks and then you were off to a local shopping center to do some damage.

“You seem more relaxed…” Laura mentioned as she sat waiting for the light to turn green.

“Yeah uh...we talked after dinner last night. We’re good.” You shrugged. Yes you were close with Laura, but you really didn’t want to tell her the details of your friendship with her son. She seemed to accept that because she nodded and smiled.

“Good. I’m glad.” Her response ended the subject and instead she focused on the task ahead. “So you’ve spent a decent amount of time in Cale’s apartment...what does he still need other than what he mentioned to me?”

“Well curtains would be good. Waking up to the sun isn’t always ideal.” You said, a yawn slipping from your throat. “He could also use a throw blanket for the couch.” You added, pondering over what comforts Cale’s apartment seemed to be missing that would make it feel more like a home.

Wandering through aisles, Laura did most of the shopping, occasionally asking for your thoughts on something before either tossing it into the cart or putting it back on the shelf. As you walked through the aisle containing photo frames you paused.

“What do you think about surprising him with some pictures?” You suggested. He had a couple pieces of ‘artwork’ but there really weren’t any family photos to be found as far as you could see.

“Why don’t you take the reins on that?” Laura replied, a soft look you couldn’t place filling her eyes as she handed you her phone. “Text yourself anything from my camera roll.” As she looked through possible throw pillows, you quickly scanned through the pictures, texting yourself a half dozen that would be perfect. Agreeing to meet up in about fifteen minutes, you headed back to the instant photo machine, plugging your phone in to print the pictures from Laura’s gallery as well as a couple from your own. Satisfied with what you had, you moved back to the frames, picking out one for each photo before moving to find some command strips to hang them with.

On the car ride back to Cale’s place, you worked to get each photo into a frame. By the time Laura pulled back into the garage you were finished and you helped her carry all of the shopping bags inside. Cale had given his mom the spare key in case the two of you were done before he got back and after letting yourselves inside, you went to work on making Cale’s apartment feel just a little cozier. Together you hung curtains up in his living room, tossing pillows and the sherpa throw onto the couch. Then Laura helped you with hanging photos on his bedroom wall while a few of them were placed stationary on a side table in his living room. Laura unpacked the rest of the things Cale had asked her to buy and then the two of you settled onto the couch to watch tv until the guys arrived.

Gary and Cale had picked up lunch on the way home, so the four of you sat down to eat. When you finished, Cale handed you a gift bag and though you had a feeling you knew what it was, you were still anxious to open it. Navy fabric accented with maroon and white spilled around your fingers and you gently ran your fingers over the number 8 and lettering of the nameplate.

“Can’t have you come to the game tonight without proper apparel.” Cale murmured and you jumped up quickly, wrapping your arms around him in a hug.

“It’s perfect.” You agreed. You’d packed the Makar home jersey that you’d bought yourself at the beginning of the season, but you had to admit the thirds were your favorite jersey and getting the jersey from Cale meant just a little bit more than buying one for yourself.

As you cleaned up lunch, Cale started to settle in, getting ready to take his pregame nap. He had acknowledged the curtains, blanket, pillows and other things his mom had gotten him but it wasn’t until he disappeared into his bedroom for a moment that his eyes must have caught the photos. He’d only been gone maybe 30 seconds when he returned, pulling his mom into a huge hug, his eyes soft.

“You framed pictures for me?” He muttered softly.

“That idea was all Y/N.” Laura quickly clarified and immediately Cale turned to you, his arms wrapping around you just as tightly.

“That’s incredible. Thank you.” He whispered into your ear, and when he pulled back his hands lingered on your hips for a moment more.

Soon you were grabbing everything you’d need for the game because you were headed with Laura and Gary to play tourist while Cale napped and then headed to the rink. Laura and Gary had already headed downstairs while you debated on a shirt to wear and you didn’t even notice Cale come up beside you as you dug through your bag.

“Wear that one.” He instructed, pointing to a wine red long-sleeved off-the-shoulder blouse. “We’re going out after the game if we win.” He clarified, rubbing the back of his neck. You were already wearing your favorite pair of jeans and had thrown on a cute pair of tennis shoes for running around. You weren’t exactly a club type of person but going out with Cale and his teammates did seem fun.

“Okay.” You agreed, disappearing into his bathroom to change tops before returning. “Have a good nap. And kick some ass tonight.” You teased, grabbing your makeup bag because you’d barely put any on to go shopping and if you were going out tonight you were going to need to rethink your current makeup. With everything you needed, you snuck a kiss to Cale’s cheek before disappearing out the door to meet Gary and Laura down at the car.

____

The last time you saw Cale play live was versus Calgary during the playoffs. So sitting in the stands of the Pepsi Center watching him warm up was an entirely different experience. You’d watched him on tv many times but in person it was clear to see just how much his game was growing every day. He was almost mesmerizing to watch and tucked in next to Laura, wrapped in his jersey, you felt at peace. Well, at least until the puck dropped for real.

During a commercial break in the first period, the Avs announced a promo game. After the participant was introduced and the game was explained, a baby picture popped up on the screen. In it, a little boy, no more than 9 or 10 months old, sat between the legs of a little girl around the age of five who had a book in her hands. Immediately your own cheeks flushed as you recognized the picture, it was one of your favorites from when you and Cale were super little. The fan playing got one guess of who it was with no options to win an autographed jersey, but they were way off and guessed Nate for some reason. Then multiple choice popped up with Cale’s name, JT’s, and Gabe for a chance at an autographed puck. You didn’t even pay attention to the guess beyond hearing the boos signaling they got it wrong, but instead your gaze landed on Cale who was looking up at the screen, hiding a smile as he took some ribbing by his teammates. Eventually his eyes drifted up to where you were seated and he sent a little wink that you would have missed if you weren’t looking at him. From beside you Laura just smiled and bumped your shoulder, signaling without words just how strong your friendship with Cale really was.

The Avs played a solid all around game and you cheered with each goal scored. Cale had two assists on the night and with the team coming out with the win you knew he was going to be in a good mood. Heading down to the locker room, you listened as Gary rambled on about the game as hockey dads do while sharing looks with Laura that made you burst into laughter.

When Cale finally stepped out of the locker room he hugged his parents before lifting you up and spinning you around.

“You ready to go have some fun?” He inquired, boyish smile on his face.

“Don’t get into too much trouble.” Laura warned, though her expression wasn’t all that serious.

“As if I’d let him.” You joked. For years Cale’s family had the running joke of you being the more responsible one keeping Cale in line. It wasn’t always true obviously, but for the most part the point stood. Still after the past few weeks Cale had had, you were willing to let him go just a little bit crazy tonight, knowing that you would be there as his safety net.

“We’ll see you both tomorrow.” Gary grinned. “Go relax and have a good time.” Cale’s arm drifted around your waist as he tugged you to his car. Once there, you stripped off the jersey leaving you in just the blouse and as he pulled out of the garage you mussed up your hair just a little bit. Using the mirror, you carefully added a little more eyeliner before throwing on a dark lipstick, tossing both cylinders into the cupholder beside you.

By the time you stepped out of the car at the club you felt ready for a night out and as you watched Cale shed his jacket, you felt his eyes on you once more.

Waiting for him to be ready to head inside, you watched as a tall redhead approached, beautiful woman tucked into his side.

“Y/N...this is JT and his girlfriend Lauren.” Cale introduced and you reached a hand out to shake theirs before tucking your hand back into your pocket.

“So this is the best friend.” JT said, smirking. “Bout time Cale finally brought you around, he’s been talking about you for forever.”

“Really?” You teased, ready to throw out a semi-embarrassing tidbit until Cale grabbed you by the waist, his finger falling to your lips to shush you as he guided you inside.

“Can you at least let me get a drink or two in me before you start spilling the embarrassing stories?” He pleaded jokingly.

“I suppose.” You conceded, smiling as he guided you up to the VIP lounge and over to the bar. Settling for a glass of wine, you watched him order a beer for himself before leading you over to one of the many couches. It wasn’t long before you were being introduced to all of Cale’s teammates.

Gabe was boisterous and funny and the way that he looked at his wife Mel made you smile brightly. Josty was a character, he had you laughing almost immediately as he told stories about all of the media events he’d done with Cale and what he’d learned from residing in the same building. He was definitely giving you ammo to use later. Then again they all were, chirps had been flying left and right all night.

You’d been nursing the same glass of wine for about an hour, watching as Cale downed another 2-3 beers as well as a shot that Burky handed him. It was nice to see Cale out with people that clearly cared about him and you knew this was probably the first time he had really been able to let go of all of the stress since the pregnancy scare.

Eventually Mel and Lauren dragged you out onto the dance floor with the other better halves and even though you’d barely had anything to drink, the beat of the music had you relaxing, enjoying the time you had getting to know the people who were part of Cale’s other family.

“You know his eyes haven’t left you all night.” Mel eventually declared, her voice barely audible over the loud music.

“He’s always been a little protective…” You simply shrugged. The look Mel and Lauren shared suggested that they weren’t buying that logic but they didn’t push things. After a few more songs, you left the dance floor to head to the bar for a bottle of water. While there a tall….like really tall, dark haired man who looked like he should star in the next hollywood vampire blockbuster, slipped up beside you, his arm brushing against yours lightly. As you placed him as Cale’s d-partner you smiled up at him before looking back at where the bartender was rushing back and forth.

“You know none of us have ever seen him like this before…” Ryan murmured. “He comes out but he never really lets loose. Now I don’t know whether that’s because it’s the first time we’ve been out since everything happened or if it’s because you’re here but I suspect it’s more to do with the latter.” You didn’t really know what to say to that so you shrugged. “And I’m not saying that in the manner of he feels like you’re the babysitter who will take care of him, I’m saying that he feels comfortable because you’re here in a way he was never comfortable either by himself or with Sara.” Ryan finally managed to get the bartender’s attention and he ordered your water along with whatever he was drinking before continuing. “And I’m sure Cale never said anything and neither did anyone else but...you should know everyone really likes you. And I can’t say the same for Sara.” Just as quickly as he’d appeared, Ryan had walked off and you glanced over at Cale to see his eyes planted firmly on you, his cheeks rosy from the alcohol.

Water in hand, you moved to Cale’s side, his arm wrapping around you immediately. The redness in his eyes told you he’d had a little bit more to drink than he probably should have and you pushed your water his way, not wanting him to be completely impossible to drag home. The grin on his face was lazy as he took the bottle, showing how completely relaxed and at ease he was.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he took a long sip of the water and you tilted your head to observe him, tie gone and the top few buttons of his shirt undone. His fingers slipped just under the edge of your shirt along your hip and you took your own sip from the bottle of water trying to hide the flush that filled your body at the feeling of his fingertips on your bare skin. Passing the water back to him, it was soon gone and once the bottle was empty you stood, looking over your shoulder.

“Are you going to sit there all night or are you going to come dance with me?” You inquired, your tongue running against your bottom lip. Stumbling just slightly, Cale slipped out of the booth and his hand fell to the curve of your back as he guided you over to where his teammates and their significant others were dancing.

With Cale’s chest pressed against your back, his hands fell to your hips once more and the pads of his fingers wandered over every inch of skin they could reach. His touch had never affected you like this before, he’d never been this brazen before, but you chalked both of those factors up to the alcohol. Though you’d only had two glasses of wine since you arrived, wine had always made you far warmer than any other form of alcohol so the heat in your skin was definitely just from that.

“So I have a question…” Cale’s breath fanned over your ear as he leaned down to whisper yell at you, allowing you to hear him over the rap song that was playing.

“Yes Cale?” You replied, tilting your body back against his so that you could see his face. It was even rosier than before and his soft smile was replaced by a serious and focused look causing your eyebrow to quirk at the sight.

“Women like having oral sex performed on them right?” For a split second you were certain that it was only Cale’s hold on you that kept you from falling right over. Choking on your own saliva as you tried to swallow you quickly coughed, your cheeks even more flushed than you could attribute to the wine.

“I...I mean from what I’ve heard yeah…” You finally stumbled out an answer. “Why?” Your question was ignored as Cale’s hands tightened around your hips.

“You’ve heard?” Cale prodded. “You don’t know?” Cursing under your breath you shivered as Cale’s thumb stroked a sensitive spot along your side.

“Cale…” You mumbled, not drunk enough for this conversation. He poked you in the side though signaling you to continue and you groaned. “I mean...I had sex for the first time freshman year of college and we didn’t exactly know what we were doing…” You explained, softly enough that only Cale would hear you. “And I mean I’ve only had sex one other time...it was a one night stand and we were both way too drunk to do anything but fuck. So yeah...I’m just taking other people’s word on it...why are you asking Cale?” You finished, twisting in his arms so that you could look at him properly. His head ducked to press against the crook of your neck and he hissed quietly as you drug your nails along his lower back.

“Just curious…” Cale breathed. “Sara never let me...I mean I wanted to but...she told me she wasn’t interested.” For a moment you didn’t know what to say as that little piece of you celebrated the fact that it seemed there were a lot of things he didn’t do with his ex girlfriend.

“Oh...I mean everyone has their own likes and dislikes…” You reminded him. “But generally equal reciprocation is definitely appreciated.”

As the song ended, Gabe called Cale’s name to go take another shot and you pushed him to go murmuring that you were going to run to the bathroom. By the time you returned, you suspected it was definitely time to get Cale home, so you sidled up to his side, slipping your hand in his front pocket for his car keys.

“I think it’s time we get you home and to bed rockstar.” You declared. Thankfully Cale didn’t put up much of a fight, closing his tab before letting you lead him out of the club. By the time you had parked in his garage, you could see how sleepy the alcohol was making him and you moved around to help him out of the car, his body nearly dragging yours down with its weight.

Stumbling through the door, you urged him to start to bed while you got him more water and some pain killers. Gathering both, you moved to his room after checking to ensure the front door was locked. You found him sitting on the edge of his bed, dressed in only boxer briefs and though you tried not to stare, your body couldn’t help but notice that gone was the teenage boy you once knew and in his place was a man plain and simple. Setting the water and pills on his bedside table, you urged him to take his contacts out.

Once you were certain he was fairly settled, you turned to make your way to the couch. Instead, Cale’s hands reached out to pull you back to him and as he scooted to the far side of the bed, he drug you down with him.

“Cale…” You mumbled in complaint but his eyes were already closed and his breathing was starting to steady out, his hands keeping your body pressed tightly against his. Sighing, you managed to work yourself out of your jeans before giving in and settling in his arms.

Between your conversation with Gravy, the looks Mel and Lauren were giving you, Cale’s inquiry, wandering hands, and this, so many lines had been blurred tonight that it was making you dizzy.

For the second night in a row...your mind reeled as you fell into a fitful sleep.

Blouse:

#cale makar #cale makar imagine #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #cavalanche #038

196 notes · View notes

not-from-the-absence-of-violence · 4 years

Text

I exist as I am

it is yet again @jonnitweek time :D

Day 4 - identity / fluff

Jonnit and their relationship with gender.

Jonnit sat at a table, breakfast among the crew these days was somewhat tense with their new status and the captain's death looming over their shoulders.

Dref didn’t like eating around other people so he had gone and locked himself in his own office to eat, Travis was sitting in front of him, he looked generally annoyed at the world while he ate his breakfast.

Gable arrived a few moments later, having gotten no food for themself as they usually stole from Travis, who always grabbed way too much.

“Hello Jonnit,” they said cheerfully, Jonnit smiled back, then they said “Travis.” who gave them a bleary glare.

They sat down next to him and in practiced familiarity went to grab Travis' mug.

He swatted at their hand like an annoyed cat. “That’s heartroot,” he said pointedly. “Which if you want you are going to have to blend yourself I’m afraid.”

They don’t seem at all surprised by this, just seem annoyed that they will have to get their own drinks later.

Jonnit stares at him, he has heard of heartroot before of course, it’s one of those things that he is aware of but has never actually thought about.

“You drink heartroot?” Jonnit asks in genuine curiosity.

Travis smirks. “Sometimes,” he says, “staying the same for so long would just be dreadfully boring don’t you think?”

Gable shakes their head a little. “I feel like you aren’t explaining this right.”

“Well how would you put it then?”

They seem to pause for a second. “You humans and your gender,” they say, then stare at Jonnit, “I’ve certainly never gotten it.”

And Jonnit thought he did, right up until that point where he wasn’t sure actually. He hadn’t grown up particularly sheltered, there are however things that you just don’t question, corsairs were generally a lot more free, and glamorous, in their expression.

“Dref, how does heartroot work?” Jonnit said as he was sitting on a desk in his office as Dref worked methodically to clean some equipment.

“I-It’s not s-something I’m an ex- xpert in b-but,” they say, turning to look at Jonnit, there is a bright slightly nervous energy about the way he kicks his legs, “It’s d-definitely m- magic.”

Jonnit rolled his eyes without malice. “I get that.”

Dref can’t help but smile at him. “I h-have p-ersonally n-never t-taken it.”

“I think i get how it works, i meant more in a,” he said and vaguely waved his arms around, “how do you know you want it, I guess?”

Jonnit seems lost in his thoughts for a moment and Dref wishes he knew better how to verbalize his own feelings, he hasn’t taken heartroot no, this doesn’t mean they don’t understand the anxious curiosity practically radiating from Jonnit.

“N-not everyone who f-feels d-different t-takes heartroot,” they tried. “B-but some p-people feel their b-body doesn’t align w-with who they are.”

Jonnit hummed impatiently. “But how do you know.”

“Experimentation? Often t-there is m-more to ex-xploring g-gender.”

Jonnit seems content with that answer, a small smile on his face as he stares at the wall. “Sure okay.” he flashes a smile at Dref, “Thanks, man.”

“Any t-time.” Dref says and they lapse back into comfortable silence as Jonnit ponders and Dref works.

Celebrations are always big on the Uhuru, the sound of music and laughter filling the ship with an almost magical energy.

Jonnit likes parties, the general buzz of fun and movement letting the gentle worry of the life of a corsair fade into the background.

It’s night and Travis is lamenting about it, a coyote on Gable’s lap. Dref comes into the room, they are wearing a floor length skirt and a coat other than his doctor's coat for once.

Gable smiles at him. “Look who pulled out all the stops tonight.”

He blushes and stammers a bit, “T-thank you.”

Jonnit can’t help but stare at it, the fabric looking soft and glittery all the same. “I didn’t know you owned skirts.” he remarks.

“T-they are i-inconvenient for m-most of m-my work,” he says, a bit solemn.

Jonnit nods, a pirate's life was not made for pretty and frilly outfits. Travis grumbles something about being able to wear skirts when she’s human and Gable laughs at him, genly petting her head.

He can’t help but keep staring at Dref’s skirt as they run their fingers through the fabric.

“I p-probably have one f-for y-you,” Dref says suddenly, “if you w-would l-like?”

Jonnit’s eyes go wide and he smiles excitedly, “For real?” he says.

Dref nods.

“Cool! Thank you.” he says, getting up quickly and practically dragging Dref to the door.

Gable and Travis watch them leave as Jonnit bables excitedly, Dref looks at him with a soft smile.

“They grow up so fast.” Travis says mocking at Gable’s incredibly fond look.

“Oh sush,” they say, “you are one to talk.”

Jonnit stares at himself in the tall mirror of the captain's quarters, the skirt Dref has given him is a deep blue, with what looks like stars embroidered at the bottom of it. He likes the sensation of it when he spins, the fabric swishing and all the constellations moving with him.

He isn’t sure why he has never worn a skirt before, mostly because it has never been practical maybe, but now he feels warm and happy as he looks in the mirror.

“It s-suits you,” Dref says,

“Yeah!” Jonnit says with glee. “Now let’s go dance.”

He pulls Dref by his arm, who then almost stumbles but quickly follows behind Jonnit, into the mass of dancing skyjacks.

Everyone seems excited to see them, of course they are the heroes of the hour having not so long ago taken down The Civility.

Everyone on the crew is fond of Jonnit, he mingels easily in the crowd and people seem glad to teach him all types of dances he eagerly attempts.

Gable pops in and out, occasionally to Jonnit's delight swinging him around like he weighs nothing. Dref mostly stays at the outskirts, nodding at the pats on the back he gets from the rest of the crew, smiling at Jonnit’s exited demeanor.

"I should wear this more often." He says later, twirling to make the skirt turn with him.

"Y-you can k-keep it," Dref says firmly.

Jonnit looks at him like he has stars in his eyes. "Thank you," he says, and leans in for a hug slowly, so Dref can back out.

Dref melts into the quick hug, holding Jonnit for a second, hoping he gets everything they didn’t get to have.

After Buzra Nyth Jonnit still owns the skirt. Dref was right of course, it isn’t very convenient in most situations but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t wear it.

It surprisingly doesn’t feel terrible to wear it, it brings with it only soft memories of Dref, and a nice glow like feeling that Jonnit can’t help but smile at. It’s the comfort Dref would give him, were he still here.

There is something about being called “boy” that just doesn’t sit right with Jonnit. He’d imagined it was because of how childish it made him feel, but there is something weirdly specific about the twinge of discomfort that comes with it.

Gable and Travis are listening to him ramble about in, trying to pay attention at this late hour. It is, Jonnit imagines, a bit like a sleepover you would have were they a normal friend group.

Except Travis, who is a snake at the moment, is curled around Gable’s neck, and Gable is nodding along while they idly play with a gun.

“Is girl any better?” Gable tries.

Jonnit grimaces a bit. “It’s not...worse?”

“Let’s just call you child then.” Travis says.

Gable vaguely pushes part of him off their shoulder. “This is important.” they say annoyed. Jonnit can’t help but laugh at them both.

“What about young man?” Gable keeps trying.

“It isn’t bad, doesn’t feel...me?” he says, gesturing vaguely. It was all confusing and not easy to explain.

“Well people don’t need to use gendered anything.” Gable says matter of factly.

“Or everything.” Travis says, and she smiles Jonnit a snakey grin.

As the night goes on Jonnit has a small list written down; he finds he doesn’t mind “son”, but he does prefer “sibling”, he decidedly dislikes “boy” and “man” feels distant, “sir” and “madam” both have a certain status they are excited about achieving someday. It’s almost fun really, repeating small sentences in their brain, imagining scenarios, Travis and Gable both occasionally sleepily adding commentary.

He ends the list with a twice underlined bold. “Captain Kessler.” which leaves him smiling stupidly at the paper.

This is my friend, they are a corsair and their name is Jonnit. He writes down carefully.

“Hey would you guys mind using they pronouns for me occasionally,” they say at the end of the night, feeling a small and unreasonable anxiety in his chest.

Gable smiles excitedly. “Of course!”

Travis lifts her head from where it was buried in Gable's hair. “Welcome to the club, kid.”

Jonnit smiles. “Yeah,” they say, “yeah I guess so.”

Jonnit smiles at the scene before him, Margaret had forced them all into what she regarded as a well needed rest after Nordia. So here they were now, cooped up into Dref’s former office, laying on the floor as Margaret did their nails one by one.

It was an activity that required patience, and forced you to sit down and enjoy eachothers company. Occasionally Margaret and Travis took sips from their mugs of heartroot, Travis’ balanced precariously on the edge of a book shelf, Margaret’s safely at her side as she chided Gable for moving too much.

Jonnit clinked their bright freshly polished nails against his own mug, they were a deep blue to match with their skirt and made a soft lovely sound against the ceramic.

Jonnit had, almost shyly, approached Margaret about blending heartroot a while ago, and had been blown away by her level of enthusiasm and knowledge.

So there he was, shakingly holding the tea, which was ever so carefully picked to stop facial hair growth and to make their voice just a little higher. Margaret had gently reminded him that the mix could always be adjusted, people and feelings change after all. It still felt like a big step as he took a small sip, it was sweet and almost floral and warm.

He couldn’t quite contain his giggles, a happy haze falling over them. His three companions turn to him with equal fond looks.

Many things happened when Jonnit went back to Akaron, the feelings and slight unresolved tension from when they had left home still hanging around the air and certainly explanations were needed from his sister, who had apparently also left home.

Both Zana and his dad were delighted to see him, embracing them in a group hug so tight Jonnit almost felt he couldn’t breathe.

His nervousness falling away as they entered their childhood home and sat down to have the longest conversation he had had with anything in a while.

There was a lot to digest of course, with both Zana and him retelling their adventures, their destinies, their fears. Jonnit’s gender journey in the end was only one of the many many items in the long list of explanations that night.

Whatever edge of nervousness there was it was worth it for the gentle peace of understanding that washed over all of them having talked.

It was worth the giddiness he got when he overheard Zana talking to a friend of hers.

“Yeah me and my sibling are home for a bit,” she says, “Jonnit? You remember them right?”

It was worth for the hug his father gave them when they left, full of unspeakable emotion.

“I’ll always be here you know,” his father said, blinking back tears, “whatever you do, you always have home to come back to.”

Jonnit was tearing up too “Thanks dad.” he said and added, “You’ll always be welcome on my ship too.”

His dad gave him a wide smile, tears now falling from his eyes as he nudged them towards the Uhuru where Travis and Gable were waiting. “Now go get them, captain Kessler.”

“Captain?” his quartermaster said as they slowly entered their quarters, Jonnit nodded at them to speak “Ma’am the crew is awaiting orders. Shall I tell them to get to their battle stations?”

Captain Jonnit Kessler moved away from the window where he was looking at their next target, a red feather ship gilded in gold, one of the last ones in the sky. He couldn’t help but smile, they should be used to this by now but some things never quite stop being a small novelty.

“Yes,” they said, “and tell Gable to come up to my quarters, I would like to see them before the battle.”

The quartermaster nodded, the excitement of upcoming battle clearly in the air. “Yes ma’am.” they said, exaggerating the salute a little.

Jonnit smiled and shook his head. “Well get to it then.” they said, not quite being able to shake the amusement in his voice

“Yes sir!” they say, with a final grin as they leave the room.

And with that Capitain Kessler prepares themself for one of many battles to come, one of the crucial ones that one day make them the best pirate to ever live, the ones that help him one day rule the skies.

#skyjacks #jonnitweek2021 #campaign podcast #jonnit kessler #gable skyjacks #dref wormwood #travis matagot #margaret skyjacks

15 notes · View notes

cutegrandmaw · 3 years

Text

I walk into the library, my biggest crush, the pillsbury dough boy at my side. “What books do you like to read?” He asks me, I dont answer, how could I? I was way too busy focusing on his pillowy lips. “Did you hear me?” He asks, confused at why I’m not making eye contact. “Yeah I heard you, I just couldn’t help but notice how kissable you are...” I look at him and I see his sly smile as he looks up and down at my body. Having him look at me like this makes me so wet. “Damn, you pretty thicc homie” he says with a wink. That wink makes my underwear so moist. I can’t think about anything but him. I place my back on a book shelf and he presses his warm body on mine to grab a book that was behind me, I feel a lump in his pants. “Damn, is that a roll of Pillsbury™ Original Crescent Rolls in your pants or are you just happy to see me?” His pale face goes a shade of red and I can see his dick get hard as he steps back from me. “Idk, you’re just so thicc I can’t help but to get so horny.” I could then hear his contagious laugh. I can see he regrets saying that, so to put him at ease I grab his necktie and pull him in and kiss him. I slip my tongue into his mouth and he tastes like cinnamon rolls, spicy sweet and warm. He pulls away and I let go of his tie. “Damn I can’t stop thinking about you,” he looks down and I can see him notice the wet spot on my jeans. “I want you” he then proceeds to grab me by the waist and throw me onto the library floor and kiss me. I can’t think about anything but how warm and tasty he is. I place my hands onto his doughy throbbing cock as I hear him grunt. He pulls my hair while he puts soft kisses on my neck and chest. I try my best to be quiet because we’re in a library but I can’t help but let out a soft gasp. He takes my shirt and rips it off me while I lay there in shock and surprise that my crush and the hottest boy in town is on top of me. I remove all of his clothes and I can now see his pale body glistening with sweat. He looks at me and I get even wetter than before, he aggressively sucks on my supple tits while undoing my jeans. He takes off my jeans and I let out a moan because my tits feel so good. He sees my little red panties and his eyes go wide. He moves from my tits to my stomach still kissing and occasionally biting and he rips off my patties with his teeth. I close my eyes because I’m so stimulated, I feel something touch my clit and I open my eyes to see him licking it. It feels so good and a soft moan escapes my parted lips. He then shoves one of his fingers into my pussy and I let out a loud moan and then my face goes really red because someone had to have heard that. “Shhh, do you wanna get caught?” He says to me after stopping “no and please, don’t stop” he gives me a look and continues, it takes every bone in my body to not make a sound because it feels so good. I place one hand on my breast and one on the back of his head. Then I get the feeling, I am about to cum. “Daddy I’m gonna cum” I say while my whole body tenses up, he goes harder and then I climax and let out a sound as my eyes cross and my legs twitch. “Your turn” I whisper with a wink. “Stand up” I tell him and he obeys. I get on my knees and he grabs my hair so it doesn’t get in the way. I see his dick and it’s so hard. God I want him to cook that I’m my oven. I put my mouth around it and suck while looking at him in the eyes he looks up and his face is red. I place one hand on his back and one on his cock and I start rubbing in an up and down motion. His dick is so thick and doughy, it’s so hot. I start licking and kissing all over his dick and my rubbing gets more intense as time progresses. I hear him grunt, I think I found the spot. I place my mouth around his dick and suck until I get a thick stream of sweet sticky liquid. This cum is different then I’ve ever tasted, it tastes like icing. I could get used to this. I remove my hands and my mouth from his cock and his face is so red. “I’m not used to seeing you a color other than white, I think I like it” he gives me a smile and a wink as he pushes me over on

6 notes · View notes

itsomgitsgreenblogging · 4 years

Text

Tangled (In Complexity)

So I've been very interested in a lot of the psychological features of Essek's character, and one of them is his canonical low-empathy. Essek seems to have a really hard time with empathy as a rule, which makes social interactions extremely fraught for him. I am also a Verin Theylss stan, so of course, I had to write a whole fic exploring these issues. No, I do not believe having low-empathy makes a person evil by any means, but as this story is from Verin's flawed perspective we only get his insights into Essek's behaviors so just keep that in mind when reading.

Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Triggers: emotionally abusive/distant parenting, estrangement, grief, and mentions of canonical minor character death (Essek and Verin’s father)

Preview:

"Don't leave me," Verin begged, fingers pressed to the wood of the door, and yanking the knob to no avail. "Please, it'll get me, Mama!"

"Verin, you will stay in your room until you overcome this idiotic fear," his mother shouted, and Verin flinched back from the door. "We are drow , what kind of drow is afraid of the dark?"

"Mama, Mama no!" Verin sobbed curling tight into himself. He could hear her footsteps as they echoes down the hallway and disappeared. He screwed his eyes shut. The room seemed to shrink in his panic. The shadows at his closet seemed to grow. The panic that had been gnawing at Verin's gut since his history lesson that day seemed to grow stronger. There was only his desperate heartbeat in his ears, the scent of snuffed candles, and thick shadows. In the dark there were the monsters that he had been told about. He didn't understand why his mother couldn't understand. If he was alone in the dark, then the driders and beholders and the other creeping crawling monster would be able to find him and hurt him!

There was no choice then. If his mother wouldn't help him than Verin knew that he would have to save himself.

Verin looked about, seeing his window and realizing it was his golden opportunity. He jumped up on his chair, onto his desk, and then attempted to open the window. It didn't budge. Seeing the lock at the top, Verin climbed down to his bookshelf and began bringing books over to his desk. Using them to boost himself up and using all his strength, he heard the lock creak and pop, the window opening out to the courtyard. He nearly fell out right there but managed to catch his balance with a startled yelp.

Verin ducked, his heart in his throat. He had been so desperate to escape that he hadn’t thought of any of the consequences. Mother would come, she would know and the punishment would be worse. But would that punishment be worse than the creatures that were surely waiting for him to trance? It was a risk he was willing to take. A minute passed, and then two. No one crossed the courtyard. In fact, no one appeared at all. However, from one of the rooms he saw the light of a candle. Verin, gathering all of his courage, lowered himself out of the window and then sprinted across the yard as quickly as his legs would take him. He grabbed a stick, and began to rap at the window. Mid-hit, the window opened and Verin heard Essek swear as he swatted the branch away.

"Stop!" Essek snapped and Verin dropped the stick. Essek was sticking his head out of the window now, glaring down at Verin with a heat that made Verin shrink with a leaf now stuck in his hair. "What are you doing ?"

"Mother locked me in my room," Verin said, gripping the edge of the window and desperately scrabbling for a foothold so he could boost himself up. "And she took all the lights away! Essek, please, the driders are going to get me!"

"You are being ridiculous! Hey! Stop, you are going to hurt yourself!" Essek said, and to Verin's relief Essek grabbed his shirt and pulled him up through the window. Verin was sprawled on Essek's desk, looking at Essek's glower from an interesting angle. A book had fallen, and he had scattered papers all over the place. Despair came thick and shameful. Now Essek definitely wouldn’t help him, he would carve him up and serve him to their mama on a golden platter.

"Don't make me go back, Essek, she'll lock me away again," Verin sniffed, eyes burning. Essek's face twisted for a moment, he looked out the window and closed it, moved to the door and stuck his head out and closed it in turn. He planted his hands on his hips, and then groaned after finding whatever answer he was looking for on the ceiling.

"Oh fine, very well," Essek sighed, helping Verin off the desk and straightening out his things. "I'll put you to work then."

Verin nodded eagerly, his heart full of a crippling relief. Being put to work was far better than dealing with the dark, cold, lonely bedroom before. Essek had never assigned Verin chores or punishment before, but whatever he wanted couldn't have been as bad as the quiet room. Essek was distant and quiet and mean on occasions that suited him, but at least he always kept his promises.

"Hold this for me," Essek said, taking the blanket spread out over his legs and draping it over Verin's shoulders. "I'm getting too hot."

Verin nodded and curled it around his shoulders.

"Now I'm going to read, you stay quiet," Essek told him, standing up and pulling a book from the shelf. It was cracked along the backbone, well-used and annotated with his brother's scrawl. He settled it at the center of the desk, pushing away the massive tome he had been using after marking the page he had been on.

"I will!"

" Quiet , Verin."

"Oh! Right, sorry!" Verin whispered, curling the blanket more firmly around himself. He felt tiny in the huge chair, and didn't quite know what to do with his legs and arms. He settled for tucking them underneath himself and leaning against the arm. Essek began reading aloud.

"Dunamists have long held that gravity is the force by which a planet or other celestial body draws objects towards their center. The force of gravity keeps the celestial bodies in orbit around the sun," Essek read, voice quietly. "The manipulation of this force is called Dunamancy, and this concept of drawing towards the center is the most basic principle of the practice."

"Mm," Verin sighed, head heavy.

"The existence of gravity was first proven by which scholar, Verin?"

"Narcelia of Den Gallaer," Verin grumbled, remembering the list and his tutor who smelled like old parchment and smoke. He remembered because he had gotten his knuckles hit for doodling during that lesson, and his mother hadn’t been pleased.

"Correct, and she discovered gravity by completing a sequence of tests that started…"

Essek read, and occasionally asked Verin questions. He never once looked at Verin, and yet Verin could sense he had Essek's attention. And that was enough. After all, a drider couldn't get the jump on him if someone was paying attention. He tried to stay awake, to listen so that he could help Essek. He wasn't sure exactly what he had wanted help with, but he knew he could. He could be of use somehow. Essek would see that, and then Essek would see him . He couldn’t imagine something better than that, after all, everyone knew that Essek was a genius. If Essek saw him, maybe Verin could be special one day and not just a bother.

Just one moment, Verin thought to himself as his heavy eyes closed. I'll just rest for a moment. Essek won't be mad if it's just for a moment and it was so difficult to keep his eyes open and…

Verin drifted into a trance, and even deeper into sleep . When he awoke he was in his own bed, and the only proof it hadn't been a dream was the unlocked door and the closed window.

_____________________________

Verin was in the midst of a well needed rest when he was startled out of his trance by a Message. This was his least favorite way to wake up for multiple reasons, but it was especially unwelcome as his foggy brain began to put together the pieces of the words as they filtered in.

“Taskhand, your presence is being requested by your Denmother and the Shadowhand. You will be expected at the residence tomorrow evening.”

“Very well, I’ll leave Bazzoxan tomorrow,” Verin said, before waiting for the spell to fizzle out. He sighed and collapsed back down in his bed, once he was safe.

“ What ?” Samezi groaned from where she was laying on the bed next to him. Her head popped out from under the covers, and she blinked at him slowly.

“My presence has been requested at the Theylss Residence tomorrow evening,” Verin said, adopting an exaggerated Rosohna accent.

“You aren’t going are you?” Samezi asked, concerned, sitting up straight. Verin wished they could just go back to sleeping, with his arms around her and soaking in her warmth and her scent and burying his face in her braids. When Verin didn’t answer she swore under her breath in orcish. “You can’t be serious Verin.”

“I can’t refuse a summons from my Denmother,” Verin explained, pulling himself up and resting against the rickety backboard of his bed. He had gutted most of the belongings of the previous Taskhand, the velvet curtains and the feather down, when he got there and salvaged them for extra coin. One of his first orders of business was putting every spare coin back into the barracks where it belonged. He had no access to the vast fortune his family commanded, after all, he was the youngest son.

“You mean your mother,” Samezi said, not sounding impressed. “That woman .”

“Yes, my mother, the Denmother, Deirta there is no difference,” Verin said noncommittal though just mentioning her made something curdle in his gut. “I have to go, no matter how much I wish not to. The Shadowhand will be there, which means it’s something important.”

“Please, consider just...just refusing,” Samezi said, the worry settling like a weight between her brows. “You know how you get after seeing them.”

“You mean, feeling like I’m making nothing of my life? Please, elaborate.”

“Really Verin,” Samezi said quietly, touching his arm with a softness that gentled the sharp edges of his heart. “They are incapable of seeing what we all see. You are the only Taskhand we’ve liked probably in the history of the outpost. There’ll be chaos if that woman skins you and eats your organs or whatever she’s planning.”

“You don’t think she just wants to see me perhaps? I’ve heard I’m decent company,” Verin said, fluttering his eyelashes. He leaned to give Samezi a kiss and she batted him away half-heartedly.

“I’m being serious,” Samezi warned him, her fingers combing through Verin’s hair.

“At ease, sergeant,” Verin said with a salute before sighing and leaning back against the pillows. “I know, you’re right. But I’m sure it’s just something about politics now that the war is over. I’ll go there, have dinner, and come back. If something else happens, I give you permission to send a search party. Make to avenge me, also, burn all those letters I sent you. They are in a lockbox in my desk.”

“You are horrible ,” Samezi said. “But fine, but only if they kill you before I do.”

“Good, give me something to look forward to when I get home,” Verin said with a smile of his own.

He arrived the next evening back to his hometown through the use of their teleportation circle. Rosohna was dark and beautiful as always, after arriving he spent a little bit of time stretching his legs and getting a feel for the city that he had grown up in once more. The mood was much improved since his last visit, owed in part to the return of the beacons and to the end of the war. In general though, it felt like the city was teetering on another edge. Though it had little to do with him, he was sure that the direction Rosohna would blow would be decided soon enough.

Verin arrived in the Lucid Bastion on time, moving to the Den Theylss ancestral home. Servants acknowledged his presence and he was directed to one of the sitting rooms to await the presence of the Umavi. Verin was let in, and as he crossed the threshold he was immediately aware of another presence. Turning around, he saw Essek perched in a seat with a tome across his lap. He finished his page, not looking up, and once he did he put in a bookmark. Essek curled his fingers in the air and then slipped his book into a pocket dimension, before meeting his gaze. As always, his elder brother was dressed in a mantle and long robes that obscured his figure and he floated off the ground as he was buoyed in his own gravitational field.

"Hello Verin," Essek said pleasantly, head nodding towards him in acknowledgement.

"Essek," Verin said cordially in return, echoing his nod. "How have you been?"

"Busy," Essek answered, his tone non-committal. His attention slid to Verin now for the first time, though Verin wasn't looking at his brother but was instead looking ahead. The weight of his gaze skittered up Verin's neck like a spider and made him want to swat at his own skin. Essek had always had such an effect on everyone they knew. Unnerving , would be the term though it has its limits. Verin had known Essek all of his life...until recently there had been no life without Essek being factored in like some kind of twisted arithmetic, but Verin had no clue what was simmering under the surface of Essek's facade.

"The Denmother's last appointment is running late, it will be a few moments longer," a servant said, bowing deep in apology. Essek waved off the servant who scurried away. Verin sighed through his nose. Of course, his mother would summon him all the way from Bazzoxan and then still find a reason to not speak with him. Typical .

"I hear you have been busy as well," Essek said, and Verin startled at his voice. He had assumed their non-conversation was over and that they would start pretending the other didn't exist again. Apparently Essek wanted something.

"Bazzoxan keeps me on my toes," Verin said suspiciously, feeling his own eyes narrow. "Why?"

"It hasn't escaped my attention that you are doing well there," Essek said, and Verin met his silver gaze. He couldn't say that Essek looked proud, or warm. But instead, the placid mask of his brother was gone and his expression was neutral. "I will admit that the assignment concerned me, but I was glad to be proven wrong."

"You thought I couldn't handle it?" Verin asked, a twinge of indignation pricking him.

"In over your head," Essek clarified, arms shifting beneath the mantle. "But I have heard nothing but good things about your leadership. I'm sure the Umavi is pleased."

"And what do you think?" Verin asked him.

"A Theylss, executing their job proficiently in high places is to be expected," Essek said, looking forward. "You are a Theylss, after all."

"Until you can actually speak about that like I am a Theylss and don't just have to prove myself one, it doesn't feel like you actually think of me as your brother," Verin pointed out.

"You are the only one of our siblings I view as a sibling," Essek said with a blink, looking at Verin more critically. "I thought you knew that."

"I'm pretty sure what you think constitutes loving sibling behavior and what I think constitutes loving sibling behavior are two very different things," Verin said, illustrating the point by holding up two fingers and pulling them apart.

"I don't deny that," Essek said with a shrug. “I am sorry if I made you feel otherwise though.”

Verin was now staring at Essek unabashedly. He wasn’t even sure that he had known that apologies were even part of Essek’s vocabulary (outside of the political niceties that Essek had always been well versed in). Their childhood was scattered with examples Verin could point too-bothered Essek, annoyed Essek, cold Essek. Cold Essek had always been Verin’s least favorite, the one that treated Verin like his existence was a chore he just had to get through. During their sibling arguments, Essek would just simply pretend Verin didn’t exist...the record being for a week straight. Never once had Essek ever apologized for instigating or his part in their disagreements. On occasion, Essek could be considerate, but never kind. There was always a point . Whether it was to curry his favor or to repay a favor, it could be assumed that Essek wanted something. Essek was never apologetic . Verin had half a mind to slap himself, just to make sure he was well.

“Close your mouth or you’ll swallow a spider,” Essek said with a roll of his eyes, and Verin’s mouth closed with a click of his teeth.

“Who are you and what have you done with Essek?” Verin asked suspiciously.

“Stop acting like a child,” Essek told him with a very distinctly Essek huff that relieved Verin slightly. At least he knew that this was indeed his brother and not just a person masquerading around in his flesh suit. Verin was about to say something in that spirit when the servant walked back into the sitting room.

“The Denmother is requesting your presence now,” the servant said with a bow of his head. Essek ghosted in behind him, and Verin followed close behind.

Their mother was sitting at the table, flipping through some papers as she took sips from a glass of wine. As they walked in their mother’s eyes didn’t even flit up from the papers for a moment, she simply waved them in like she was summoning them forward. Verin felt like a child being called in for a scolding again as he moved forward. Essek’s face was a picture of cool indifference. Finally she stopped, clearly having decided that she had made them wait long enough. She set down the papers, and another servant scrambled to take them away.

“Denmother,” Essek greeted, bowing his head in respect, and Verin echoed the movement immediately.

“Essek,” Deirta said, standing up. She seemingly inspected Essek thoroughly. Though they were the same height, Essek was currently floating about an inch or two higher. It was at such moments that Verin was always surprised about how much Essek took after their mother. From the shape of their eyes, to the bridge of their noses, to the sharp lines of their delicate faces. Verin had always been closer in face and continence to their father. He wondered, often, what their mother thought of that. She seemed pleased with whatever she saw there and turned her attention to him. “Verin.”

“Denmother,” Verin said as his mother curled her cold fingers under his chin, and turned his head this way and that. Verin let her manipulate his movements, and was relieved when she let go.

“Would it kill you to keep your hair in order?” Deirta sighed, the breath coming exasperated. “It looks like you took a knife to the edges.”

“I did,” Verin said flatly. Essek made a noise like he was stifling a chuckle, casting a glance towards him Verin could see there was a muscle twitching in his jaw...like he was fighting a grin.

“ Scissors , Verin, are there no scissors in Bazzoxan?” Deirta chastised before casting a scolding glance at Essek. “You don’t have a leg to stand on, considering your ridiculous haircut.”

“Forgive me, mother,” Essek said with a sweet, almost indulgent smile. “But the teachings of the Luxon do say that our bodies are merely transient vessels. Hair is of middling importance in the grand scheme of enlightenment.”

“Oh Luxon’s light protect me,” Deirta said, throwing up her hands. “Verin, promise me you’ll schedule an appointment to get the ends of your hair sorted out before you leave Rosohna.”

“Of course,” Verin said, hoping this would be enough to placate her.

“And don’t you give me attitude, young man,” Deirta said, focusing her energy now on Essek with narrowed eyes. “Out of everyone in this household, I am not the one who needs a lecture on the Luxon’s philosophy.”

Verin felt himself tense up, as a pit opened large and wide in his stomach. Oh dear Light, he had thought this argument was over . Was Essek still pursuing his ridiculously dangerous ideas? It was a poorly kept secret that Essek had funny ideas when it came to the Luxon. Treasonous ideas, if Verin was being honest. Essek could never leave well enough alone, and had historically never sucked up his pride enough to let things lay where they were. There had been plenty of nights where Verin had hidden in his room with his head under a pillow and trying not to listen to their parents argue with Essek for hours, going around and around like they were lost in a maze. How many times had Verin prayed for Essek just to drop it? He couldn’t even count.

“Yes, mother,” Essek said simply. Verin stared at him. He didn’t look particularly bothered by their mother’s annoyance. Essek had always had nerves of steel...or maybe deadened nerves would be more accurate. Verin wasn’t quite sure his brother was capable of the emotions that would be expected from a person.

“Umavi,” a servant said quietly. “The cook would like you to know that dinner is ready whenever you would like it.”

“Very well,” Deirta said, taking her seat back at the head of the table. Essek and Verin both sat at the table, Essek on the left side and Verin on the right. Verin focused solely on keeping his head down and shoveling food into his mouth. He knew rationally that this was all better than anything he would get from the barrack kitchens, but eating dinner late at night with the head cook Old Man Vuto as company was a far superior experience. He hadn’t realized how much so until just that moment. Essek and his mother spoke about the comings and goings of Rosohna, about people that Verin knew tangentially, and business that didn’t interest Verin at all. Essek grazed, picking at his plate but mostly just moving things around.

“-now that the war is over, I am hoping that perhaps Den Wenirila will realize that their insistence on the Northern Assault strategy has done them no favors in court and the Denmother will stop shouting every time she comes into the war room,” Essek sighed.

“Yes...now that the war is over in name, there are plenty of things that need to change,” Deirta said with a sip of her glass. “Now, we must think of the future.”

“Indeed,” Essek said, and Verin placed down his chopsticks. “Is this why you have called us?”

“Yes, to think of the future for Den Theylss and for the Kryn Dynasty as a whole,” Deirta said as she settled down her glass. She waved for the servants who took the plates away and then left them alone. “The Empire has returned the beacon they stole from us, and the lines of our territory remain the same. But if anything this conflict has raised our stature in the world. The Dwendalian Empire cannot pretend that the Dynasty are savage drow and monsters who live in some cursed hovel. They were forced to recognize us. This will send a message to those countries outside of the borders of Wildemount that we are a sovereign state with military power that cannot be discounted when it comes to global politics. According to some we have lost the battle, but I believe that we have won the war. You two are not the first I have called here to discuss this with me, but as Denmother I believe it is my duty to share with all of the den my vision.”

“ Global politics?” Verin asked.

“Who did the Tal’doreians beg for aid when the dragons nearly roasted their civilization into a well-done husk? It certainly wasn’t us. They begged the Dwendalians. And do you know why?” Deirta asked Verin. “Pretend that you paid attention during your history lessons, Verin. I paid good money for them.”

“Ever since the drow left the Underdark there has been limited contact between the drow and the denizens of Tal’dorei,” Verin said quietly, repeating a lesson he had been taught long ago, trying not to feel as scolded as he did. “The only drow who remain have long since been twisted by Lolth and the dark entities who whisper in their hearts. Neighbors slaughter neighbors in the streets of their subterranean cities and the Denmothers and Denfathers rule with an authoritarian grip. Those who attempt to escape are often killed by once they reach the surface or are forced to live in secret enclaves as refuges without homes."

“That’s right. We used to not exist in their world outside of the horror stories they told their children to keep them from the dark at night, now we do,” Deirta told him, chin raised. “We have a golden opportunity to influence the world in a way we haven’t before.”

“And what would Den Theylss’ role in that influence be?” Essek asked as he threaded his fingers together.

“The Kryn are the rulers, the Mirimm are the enforcers. Theylss has always been the diplomats . You both know as well as I do that Den Theylss has always filled in the gap with everything the Empress needs. We will even do what the Empress doesn’t know she needs, for her own good of course,” Deirta said. “Den Theylss can be that for many others as well, beyond the Ashkeeper Peaks. Perhaps in an official capacity.”

“How?” Verin asked, frowning. “What does the Dynasty have that would make it worthwhile for any other country to risk the ire of the Empire?”

“We have the greatest resource. Time itself,” Deirta said. “I see no reason why our magics cannot benefit the world. Our cousins live in squalor and terror, it is our duty to return to liberate those remaining and make the peoples of Tal'dorei see drow in a new light."

“You want to convert the other nations,” Essek said, his voice flat. Verin was staring at Deirta unabashedly.

“Of course they should all see the light of the Luxon,” Deirta explained. “It is doubtful they will reach true enlightenment, but why shouldn’t we aim to bring more souls under the protection of our lord? But just the promise of immortality is the most powerful promise there is, and Den Theylss can be the ambassadors for such a promise. Diplomacy is what we need in a post-war world in order to become a world power, not warmongering. If the Empress cannot see that, then we can make Quana see it. She has been the more reasonable one as of late.”

“What are you implying?” Essek asked, for the first time there was an edge in his voice, an eyebrow raised.

“You have only ever been in the war room, Essek. Not in war. Verin has more experience than you in that regard, but still you are both young and inexperienced and still haven’t died a death for your country,” Deirta sighed. “War is a horrible thing. Bloodshed is a horrible thing, and it tends to be unnecessary and gruesome. It tends to bring up all sorts of feelings and instincts.”

“Are you implying that the Empress isn’t well?” Essek pressed.

“If Leylas Kryn doesn’t see things our way, it is our duty to persuade her of the correct course of action no matter the cost,” Deirta said with a smile. “Our country’s motto is for our den, our country, our Empress, and our Light. There is a reason that den is first.”

What does the Luxon see in you? Verin wanted to demand. Deirta wasn’t righteous, she wasn’t good, she was a monster trying to use the Luxon’s light for her own gain. Of course it should be a good thing for the den to work for peace and prosperity for all drow, but somehow she had even managed to taint that goal with her poison. He didn’t understand it. He couldn’t understand it. No matter what he did, how good he could be, somehow they were all just cogs in the machinations of her mind. She just had to have some kind of wisdom that Verin didn’t, some way of understanding that made it all make sense. And yet, Verin still felt sick to his stomach. What they were speaking on was nearly treason.

“I will do my duty to my countrymen,” Verin said as he stood up, gathering all of his courage in his spine. “I am the Taskhand of Bazzoxan. I am a son of Theylss and of you but I consider my obligation to the residents of that city to be my concern first and foremost. Denmother, I will respect your decisions, but I ask that you allow me to continue to prove myself in my own way by following my own path.”

“I see,” Deirta said with a disappointed sigh. “I’m sure I could work out a more profitable assignment here in Rosohna or even in Tal’dorei if the opportunity presents itself.”

“I shall endeavor to work to prove myself by my own merit, though the offer humbles me,” Verin said, bowing deeply.

“And you, Essek, what do you think?” Deirta asked, her gaze sliding over to Essek.

“Frankly, I don’t particularly care about politics,” Essek said bluntly. “Nor do I care about the conditions of the drow of Tal’dorei. Generations ago they made their bed, and should choose to lie in it. Of course you are right that honor to our den is first and foremost our concern, and should you choose to make moves towards Tal’dorei and beyond I will support you. But I also will advise that this gamble is high risk.”

“And should it fail, you will abandon the den to it’s fate?” Deirta asked.

“I am the Shadowhand, if it looks like your gamble shall fail I will stop it before it gets to that point,” Essek said.

“Is that a threat, Essek?” Deirta asked him, eyes cold.

“Yes,” Essek said with a smile. “The den is first, as you said. I would think you expect nothing less of me.”

“Essek!” Verin hissed, utterly horrified.

“There aren’t many who would have the audacity to scheme their way into being Denfather upon their first life, especially in a house of an Umavi,” Deirta scoffed.

“I have no interest in being Denfather,” Essek said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “But should the occasion arise I will find a suitable candidate to replace you.”

“Only one of us here is truly replaceable, think long and hard about your recent decisions before you come to the conclusion about who that is,” Deirta warned him, eyes flashing dangerously. Essek’s shoulders squared and his jaw tensed. “Especially considering the company you have been keeping nowadays.”

Verin wanted to laugh at that idea. Essek? Keeping company? It was ridiculous. But based off of Essek’s frigid demeanor it apparently wasn’t a joke considering that if he had looked frigid before he was now clocking in at below freezing.

“I think this conversation is over,” Essek said as he stood up abruptly, there was something dangerous in his gaze. It was something sharp enough that it could make a person bleed.

“Clearly,” Deirta said shortly.

“Verin,” Essek addressed him clearly for the second time that night. “Would you like to stay here, or would you rather stay in my home? I have a guest room prepared.”

Who are you? Verin wanted to ask.

“I’ll take you up on that then,” was what Verin said instead.

________________________________

Verin had never been to Essek’s home. He had received it after Verin’s assignment in Bazzoxan, and there was certainly no reason to come visit his brother. But Essek’s tower reminded Verin much of a graveyard, cold and impersonal. He could imagine clearly his brother haunting the hallways in the middle of the night, a phantom to his own dreams, walking about in patterns as he tried to work through some esoteric problem that didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. There were strange things though; there were books slightly out of place, extra papers, knickknacks, and things that told a story that Verin couldn’t quite piece together. The company Essek had been keeping? Their mother’s jab still echoed freshly in his ears. Had Essek been seeing someone their mother hadn’t approved of? Verin just couldn’t see that being the case. As far as Verin knew, Essek had never had any romantic entanglements nor shown an interest in such things.

“You look like you’ve been stewing on something for a while now,” Essek said as he sat down, discarding his mantle thoughtlessly. He was smaller than Verin remembered, thinner too. He looked worn down by whatever was eating at him, until he was nothing but edges and spite. “Go ahead, before your brain explodes.”

“What was mother talking about?” Verin asked directly, seeing no purpose in dancing around the point. “What company?”

“It won’t come as a shock to you,” Essek said with a sigh as he put out glasses and set out the wine. “But I lost the friends I made.”

“Friends?” Verin asked, seizing on that impossible fact.

“I should be insulted by your surprise at that part of my statement, but I know, I was surprised too,” Essek said quietly, looking off to the side as he poured a more than generous quantity of wine for himself. “But it doesn’t matter any more.”

“What did you do to lose them?” Verin asked as he sat down. Essek took a breath, and then another. He was clearly gathering his thoughts as he did so, finally he gave up whatever mental game he was playing.

“I think there’s something wrong with me, Verin,” Essek admitted, meeting Verin’s gaze openly. “I used to think...I didn’t understand you at all growing up. I thought I was better, but...I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“Essek…” Verin said, feeling something in his gut shift at Essek’s expression that twisted like he was in pain.

“I made a mistake, I did something...well, I did something for my own gain and I don’t even feel bad about it though I should. I only felt bad that the people close to me...that it hurt them,” Essek said scrubbing at his face. “I can’t understand it. I am trying so hard, I put the pieces together rationally, but I just can't make myself feel as I should."

"How do you think you should feel?" Verin asked.

"Guilty? Awful? Sad ?" Essek offered. "I just feel nothing, and then get frustrated that I feel nothing!"

"I can't help but admit that I'm at a loss for why you want my advice," Verin said quietly.

"Verin…" Essek sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Stop acting slow. I don't have anyone else to ask for advice."

"You do realize how depressing that is, right?" Verin asked him. "Me? You want to ask me ? You don't even like me!"

"By the Light! You are so dense !" Essek snapped and discarded common and began hissing at him in their first language. "Fine, here's me being honest. Yes, Verin, you are my annoying little brother. I find your savior complex insulting to my intelligence, I never found your jokes about my height funny, and you snore so loud I considered smothering you with a pillow because Mother and Father forced us to sleep into the same room-!"

"When our cousin's room was being remodeled? If you are being serious about the constant threat to my life as a child I will actually kill you, what in the nine hells Essek-!"

"So yes, Verin. I don't like you. But you are my brother. You know me better than anyone else in the world, we have a shared history. And I also know you don't like me, so I can trust you to be honest. So please, Verin, help me ," Essek said, his voice desperate, and his chest heaving with his desperation. "You are normal and I'm not and I need to know what I'm doing wrong."

"I don't think you are doing anything wrong...actively," Verin tried to explain, holding out his arms in an attempt to placate him. "You have just...you know, always been like this?"

"Like what?"

".. evil?"

"Well great," Essek said sarcastically, throwing his hands up. "Thank you, that makes me feel so much better."

"What do you want me to say?" Verin asked defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. "You didn't even cry at our father's funeral!"

"There wasn't a body!"

"Why does that matter?" Verin demanded, slamming his hand on the table. "You wouldn't have cried anyways! That’s the problem!"

"I can't fake it," Essek said, sounding honestly distressed. "How would faking it make anything better? If I don't feel it I don't feel it! I can't make myself be different, gods know I want to be."

"What do you want to be, Essek, honestly?" Verin asked his brother.

"I want to be the kind of person who the people I care about don't hate," Essek said quietly. "I'm just not sure it's possible."

"Essek, be serious, do you think the people who you became friends with would like you if you weren't acting like yourself?" Verin asked him, eyebrows shooting up.

"I don't know, it seems like it."

“Essek, really?”

Essek grimaced and downed his entire glass in one fell swoop. For a moment he seemed to truly consider the question, before just shaking his head and giving Verin a rueful smile. It was, perhaps, the most genuine expression that Verin had seen from his brother in years. For a moment he had to remember to breathe, because there he was. This was the Essek that Verin remembered between the pages of old textbooks and ducking between the pillars of their home. That Essek hadn’t been perfect, nor kind, but at least Essek was his brother. That had meant something in Verin’s life, a life that was full of starts and stops and highs and crushing lows all dictated by a woman who Verin was sure had never even seen them as people with lives outside of her. Verin wondered if it made her proud, how thoroughly she had destroyed them.

"I wonder if I loved them, or the Essek I thought I could be with them," Essek said mournfully, looking at his hands arranged in his lap. "I wonder if I'm grieving them or that Essek. Grief...it’s new to me, as many things are these days."

“If they only liked who you were pretending to be, they never liked you at all,” Verin told him, settling his hand on Essek’s shoulder after a long pause. Essek tensed, but didn’t fight the touch. Verin was sure that he felt as Verin did, like he was crawling out of his own damn skin. But Verin pushed through it, because he could at least give this to Essek.

“That Essek would have probably been a better brother, the brother you deserved,” Essek said with a heavy sigh, pointedly not answering the other question. Verin was positive that Essek didn’t want to verbalize the answer.

“You aren’t technically the only brother I have...but you are my only brother ,” Verin said with a shrug as he removed his hand. “It’s not a question about what I deserve. Frankly, I could have been a better brother to you many times. I let you face the brunt of everything alone, and I’m sorry for that.”

“There were many times I loathed you for that,” Essek said, eyes closed and leaning back against the sofa. “But I also knew that I could handle it...handle her. You were a child...so, it wasn’t your fault. Out of the two of us, I knew I would survive.”

“You were a child too,” Verin said and Essek’s eyelid cracked open.

“I wasn’t a child as you were,” Essek said gently. “I wasn’t like you.”

“You are different from me, that doesn’t mean you weren’t a child,” Verin argued.

“Did I ever tell you that I was there when you were born?” Essek asked, startling Verin with the sudden change of topic. A smile pulled at his teeth. “I haven’t, have I? I remember it because Mother had just pulled me out of the school for my special tutoring. I was so special, I was twelve, and when I arrived home Mother was pregnant with you . She hadn’t even told me, I just showed up and she was ready to pop.”

“She didn’t tell you?” Verin asked, befuddled.

“Of course not,” Essek said with a wave. “She never wrote to me when I was away, and I never came back. All of twenty-four hours after coming home there she was screaming bloody murder in labor, and then she was screaming at me because I wasn’t paying attention to my studies. When I informed her that was going to be impossible with her screeching like a dying roc she threatened to pop my eyeballs out with her nails.”

Verin couldn’t help the laughter that escaped his throat, Essek just rolled his eyes.

“Anyways, to make a long story short, I was bitchy because I finally thought that Mother was paying attention to me and then Mother had to go and push you out not even one day later. Father handed you to me, and said, this is Verin. And I remember thinking you were the ugliest thing I ever saw-”

“Hey!”

“But you were there. And that was enough,” Essek said simply, coming to a neat and concise conclusion. “You have always been enough, Verin. I know that one day...well...this truce of ours may not last, but I wanted you to know that. I never wished that you were anyone else...even if you made me want to kill you and often I didn’t like you. But you were the only one I ever felt close to. You are my brother and maybe the only person in this world that I can consider my friend and though I’m not sure the feeling was mutual...I...”

“Thank you, Essek,” Verin said, his throat feeling oddly sore. “I felt the same.”

For a moment Verin could feel the weight of a hundred years between them. A hundred and ten years should have meant nothing to them, they were children of a soul unbound by time itself. And yet, all of those memories were tangible and meaningful. He and Essek had never known anything else and Verin wondered if that made them who they were. For the first time in Verin’s life, he believed that maybe Essek saw them that way too. Perhaps that was one thing they could agree upon, in a life that was so tangled up in complexity.

“Well, it’s getting late. I’ll teleport you to Bazzoxan tomorrow,” Essek said, getting up slowly, clearly not addressing Verin’s emotions or his sentiment. “The guest bedroom is the first room on the right at the top of the stairs.”

“Wait...Essek,” Verin said and Essek paused, turned, and looked at him. “I’m sorry about your friends. I hope that things work out.”

“Good night, Verin,” Essek said, before floating away.

Verin wondered if he was trying to escape him, or if Essek couldn’t dare to dream.

#critical role #critical role fanfiction #verin thelyss #essek theylss

33 notes · View notes

hyungwonmyheart · 5 years

Text

Study Buddies

Group: ATEEZ Pairing: Hongjoong / Reader Words: 2,423 Tags: college!au, fingering, vaginal sex, protected sex, dirty talk Summary: You get annoyed with Hongjoong being hungry at the library, which somehow develops into bringing him home with you to quell his appetite.

"Are you seriously eating an entire box of cookies right now?" You scoffed with clear judgment of your study partner. You could hear him chewing, even with the distance between you in the book aisle.

Hongjoong's wide eyes met yours before narrowing on you. "Yeah. Since someone told me we were going to the library before lunch."

You shook your head with a sigh. "I told you in class we needed to check out these books, and THEN we would go to lunch. You have little self-control." You turned back to the row of books.

The crunch of another cookie broke the silence, this time closer as Hongjoong took a bite right next to your ear.

You hissed, "Stop!" and tried to playfully slap his arm, only to miss as he laughed and jumped backwards.

"You'll have to be faster than that," he sneered, shoving the rest of the cookie in his mouth.

That was the last straw. "You know what? How about you go get lunch, forget about our project, and I'll do all the work myself?" You snatched a book from the shelf and turned to stomp away.

His footsteps sauntered after you. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw him shoving the box of cookies into his bag, but quickly returned your attention to finding the next book you required.

"That's not as fun," you heard him say once you stopped in a new aisle.

Your curious eyes flickered to him, clearly asking what he meant.

The smile that crept to his lips made your heart race. "Doing it by yourself."

Your eyebrow twitched, wondering if you'd imagined the insinuation his voice held. "Excuse me?"

His smile was, for lack of a better word, angelic. "We're partners," he explained. "Let me show you how serious I am about the project." He paused, wetting his lips with his tongue. Your attention was immediately drawn to them as he continued, "I always work hard for my partners."

You were so distracted by his mouth that it took a second for the words to process. "Hongjoong, are you coming onto me?" You blurted.

A laugh burst from his lips and he immediately put a hand over his mouth to stifle it. "You sure are a blunt one," he said once his amusement was contained. "But yeah, maybe I am."

Your face flushed at this revelation. It wasn't like you had no attraction toward Hongjoong (you'd be crazy if you didn't), but you were more shocked about his feelings than anything. You were in two courses together this semester and had briefly talked a couple times before you were made partners. You'd never expected him to have an interest in you, though. You suddenly felt shy, so you tried to change the subject. "...We never discussed where you wanted to go for lunch."

"What've you got to eat at your place? It's nearby, right?" When your eyes found Hongjoong's, his smile darkened.

Fuck, you thought, is he serious? When he didn't back down from his advance, it only took seconds for you to give into that smile. "...I'm sure we could find something."

•••••

The walk to your apartment was rather quiet on your part. Hongjoong was happily chatting about some recent adventures he’d had with a couple of his friends, Seonghwa and San; they were also in the classes you shared with him. The only thing about those two was that you had no interest in them whatsoever.

It was all on Hongjoong, but you could never admit that out loud…

Nevertheless, you smiled politely and nodded along with his stories, honestly just loving the sound of his voice. You would glance at him occasionally only to be blinded by his smile. Whenever it occurred to you where you were going and why, your face would heat up and you had to look away from him. You tried to be confident, to walk with your head high, but the embarrassment was eating away at you.

Hongjoong seemed to notice you were in your own little world. “Sorry, I’m the only one talking,” he murmured, brushing a hand through the fluffy locks of his hair.

You looked at him, clearly apologetic for making him feel bad about talking so much. “It’s okay, really!”

He chuckled, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “You don’t have to be so nice, you can tell me to shut up whenever you want.”

You stopped in your tracks. At this point, you were only a couple blocks away from your place. “Don’t put yourself down like that! Maybe I like listening to you!” Once the words left your mouth, you felt your face flush again.

Studying your expression, Hongjoong was clearly looking for any indication that you weren’t serious. When you looked away with bashful eyes, he couldn’t contain himself. He slipped a hand into yours and entwined your fingers before raising them to his lips. He gently pressed a kiss to each of your fingers, gazing at you all the while. “That blush looks nice on you,” he said cheekily.

Suddenly, your face felt like it was on fire in comparison to before. How the fuck were you supposed to respond to that? You lifted your other hand to cover your eyes. “I don't understand how you can just say things like that..."

He scrunched his nose cutely as he started to laugh. You were lucky enough to have seen it as you peeked through your fingers. "It's mostly because I finally get to spend time with the cute girl from class," he cooed, his lips resting against your hand. He kept his eyes keen on yours.

You stared at him as your hand slowly fell away from your face. The silence between you dragged on until you finally gave in. You turned and yanked his arm to make him follow you home. His footsteps fell into step with your rushed pace. After reaching your apartment on the third floor, you let go of his hand to unlock the door.

As soon as you were both inside and the door was locked again, you dropped your bag and took a step toward Hongjoong. But then...you hesitated. You couldn’t just pounce on him like you intended. What if you were way more attracted to him than he was for you? “Are you still hungry?” You ended up asking.

Hongjoong set his bag down beside yours. He gave you a sweet smile. “Let’s work up an appetite.”

•••••

“You’re clamping down on my fingers so hard that I can barely move my hand. Fuck, I can’t wait to be inside this tight, little pussy.”

Well, this escalated quickly.

Hearing those words made your body react even more. You were laying naked in front of Hongjoong on your bed with your hands gripping the pillow under your head. You promised you wouldn’t move them unless you were told. He was three fingers deep in your pussy, soaked with lust.

Hongjoong sat cross-legged, your legs draped over his and wrapping around his waist more and more as he pleasured you. His cock would twitch on occasion, desperately wanting relief, but he kept himself in check as he focused on you. He smacked your thigh, urging you to spread your legs wider. “Relax, or else I’ll stop.”

You whimpered and did as he said. You inhaled deeply, trying not to squeeze down on his fingers anymore. It was difficult when he would tease your clit with the thumb on his other hand. For some reason, being on display in front of him of all people was turning you on more than ever before. All you wanted to do was hide how much you were enjoying this because you were sure it was written all over your face. You turned your head towards your arm, shielding the sinful expression.

As soon as Hongjoong noticed, he curled his fingers upward and found your sweet spot to rub mercilessly. “You better show me that beautiful face,” he demanded. “I want to see all of you.”

His words sent flames of arousal throughout your body, and you spiraled quite abruptly. Your eyes rolled back while you rode through the orgasm that snuck up on you.

“Did that feel good?” Hongjoong asked, pulling his fingers out to suck your juices off of them.

You peeked at him and nodded.

He let out a laugh, his devilish smile making your heart pound hard in your chest. “Put your arms behind your back,” he instructed, “because the next time you come, I’m not missing the look on your face.”

You nodded again, slowly lifting your back to slide your arms under. You clamped your eyes shut for a few seconds, regaining what little composure you could, before you steadily met his gaze.

Dark eyes bore into yours as he tore open a condom. He spared a glance to slide it on before returning his attention to you. “Do you want me?” His voice dropped, sultry and dangerous.

“Of course, you tease!” You couldn’t stop yourself from whining. You should have thought that through.

“Ahh, so I shouldn’t keep you waiting any longer?” Scooting forward to kneel before you, Hongjoong rubbed the tip of his dick against your clit in the most mocking manner.

You sighed in frustration. It felt so good, but the mindless words started pouring from your mouth. “At this point, does it even matter what I say or what I want? You’re just going to do as you pleas--”

Hongjoong thrust into you with less ease than you would think, having just had three fingers stretching you. He didn’t stop until he was hilt-deep to pause and playfully glare at you. “How could you say that? This is what you wanted, right? For me to stop teasing and fuck you seriously?” He pulled his hips back and pounded in again.

Your back arched away from your arms, but you kept them in place. He was filling you so nicely that you were quivering around him. “You’re an ass,” you murmured with a pout.

“I must be since I’m so selfish.” He sat up a bit more, finally tearing his gaze away from yours. His eyes were now glued to where your bodies met; a fascination in them as he rammed himself into you, yet slowly drew back. “Your pretty pussy hates when I try to pull out. I love the way it sucks me back in.”

Soft moans traveled from your mouth to his ears. “That’s because...the cute guy from class has an amazing cock…”

Those seemed to be magic words. Moving his hands to cage you in, Hongjoong hovered over you and captured your lips with his. He began to thrust within you at a steady pace, groaning against the kiss.

You couldn’t stop your disobedience as you brought your arms up to cup his cheeks and continued kissing him fervidly.

Your touch sent him over the edge of control. He kept supporting himself with one arm while the other went down to guide your leg further up his hip. He held onto the back of your thigh, thrusting in even deeper.

You gasped, though it was swallowed by his mouth. All you could think was that he really was amazing. “F-Fuck,” you whimpered against his lips. “Hongjoong--” Tears stung at your eyes.

He suddenly parted from your lips, looking down at you with concern. Yes, he was a tease, but a very caring tease. “What’s wrong?” He questioned, noting your tears in a panic.

You shook your head, rotating your hips against his. “Don’t stop, I’m gonna come!” You reached up to grab his shoulders, yanking him back down. “Please, I’m so close…”

Hongjoong clenched his jaw, reaching down to get a good grasp on your other thigh. He lifted your legs and pinned you down, pumping so deeply and frantically that you could hardly breathe. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he soothed. His voice was much more gentle than his actions.

The closer you got, the tighter you became, and by the time your body erupted in bliss you were squeezing him so tightly that he couldn’t move. You cried out his name, digging your nails into his flesh.

“Good fucking lord,” he cursed, his hips stilling as he came with you. You were so hot and tight, he felt like he was melting into oblivion.

You were left panting with tears streaming down your face. It was a relief when Hongjoong’s grasp on your legs eased and he carefully pulled out. You heard him hiss quietly as he removed the condom, making you absently motion beside the bed to a little trash can.

Once he had disposed of the condom, Hongjoong climbed back into bed and cuddled up to you. He wiped your tears with his thumb before resting his chin on your shoulder.

Your were teetering between sleep and consciousness until you heard a faint hum start beside you. You enjoyed the melody for a while; it brought a smile to your lips. You finally opened your eyes, tilting your head in his direction.

Hongjoong was staring at you with such a smitten gaze, a grin appearing when you looked at him.

“Are you hungrier now?” You asked.

He snorted in amusement. Sitting up, he cradled the back of your neck and brought you into a sweeter kiss than you had experienced until now. After a few moments, he pulled away and answered, “I could eat.”

“Let me make you something, then,” you said, attempting to sit up.

“How about we order take-out instead? My treat,” he offered, nuzzling into your neck. He nipped at your collarbone. “That way we can stay like this a little longer.”

Your face felt hot again. “Okay...grab your phone and we’ll find something to order.”

Hongjoong promptly fetched his phone from his jeans pocket and laid back on the bed. You crawled to his side and wrapped an arm around his waist. “What sounds good?” He asked.

You pressed a kiss to his chest. “Anything you want.”

“Hmm...I might have to go for seconds of you.” The words left his mouth and you immediately poked his side repeatedly, making him laugh way too hard. “Alright, alright, FINE! I’ll find something else…” He started scrolling through his phone again.

You rested your head against him again. “Seconds sounds nice, though…”

Your gaze met his and you smiled at each other. The desire mirrored in your eyes meant one thing: The project was long forgotten. Hunger won.

#ateez #hongjoong #hongjoong smut #ateez smut #kpop #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction

416 notes · View notes

tinayoufatlarrdd · 5 years

Text

She

Frankly, they didn’t start on the best term.

He met Y/N during a photoshoot for a certain famous magazine. She was assigned to grace the cover of said magazine with the photograph of the world’s most it couple, Harry Styles and the supermodel who gained the universal acclaim for ‘taming the baby Mick Jagger’.

It was all fun and pretty until Y/N accidentally stepped on the girlfriend’s polished toes.

“For fuck’s sake!” Harry screamed at Y/N as the supermodel girlfriend suddenly started limping her way to Harry, asking for some sort of first aid.

Y/N couldn’t stop muttering sorry, offering ice blocks, even kneeling next to the supermodel girlfriend begging for forgiveness. The creative director, the crew, the editors—the whole studio apologized countless times for the tiny slip as the girlfriend pouted, complaining about the unbearable pain, causing Harry to hit the ceiling.

He yelled at Y/N and refused to go on. Y/N, knowing her inferior position in the equation, could only look down as the apologies continuously rolled out of her tongue. To be fair, everyone in the studio (except the lovebirds, obviously) knew it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Y/N was capturing Harry’s solo session while the girlfriend fixed the hair and makeup. She was up next for her solo session and then it’s a wrap. Of course the photographer would move around; every supermodel should be aware of the fact that angles were plenty and it took treads to actually find the right ones. Y/N was constantly moving, camera on hand, eyes on the viewfinder, then suddenly the ‘big accident’ occurred.

Y/N was barefooted, she wouldn’t even be able to squeeze a hard turd if she ever stepped on one with that wonky heel of hers. There was no way she’d had caused the girlfriend that much pain. And nobody blamed Y/N as they all witnessed how the girlfriend walked on set with her eyes on the phone, hitting Y/N first. Nobody but the girlfriend and Harry Styles, of course. So they all just watched in silence as Harry cursed and threw a fit on innocent Y/N.

The power couple didn’t want to continue unless Y/N was replaced. The crew had to comply no matter how irrational the demand sounded. And on top of that, suddenly Y/N was plastered on the internet as the girl who assaulted the world’s biggest supermodel and Harry Styles.

She would never forget the overwhelming uneasiness caused by the sudden rave of negative reviews about her, all from people who endorsed and supported her in the first place but decided to be the footnote of the Hollywood sweethearts’ testimony: ‘awful to work with’, ‘nothing without the connection’, ‘a mediocre photographer who got lucky’, and ‘talentless’.

And she still couldn’t wrap her mind around that dreaded event. She had heard tremendous chivalry and gentlemanlike attitude when it came to Harry Styles yet somehow, he was nothing but a certified dick who put her job on the line that day. Some friends who remained loyal to her speculated that the girlfriend was the bad influence. Some even were convinced that he was voodooed. She didn’t care about either, all she believed was that he’s an absolute wretch with an extraordinarily thick mask. A media trained monkey was the term she occasionally used after a few tequila shots.

“That witch is his Yoko Ono, I tell ya,” the creative director told her during their final meeting—the meeting to let her go, of course.

She just shrugged. All she wanted was her old life back. And if Harry Styles and/or that supermodel got into some terrible misery in that comeback, that would definitely be her cherry on top.

She still got a few gigs, just not as much and definitely not with big profiles like she used to. For Pete’s sake, she was deemed a promising photographer by those fashion executives! She was only getting started. She would have never imagined that with just a short answer during a talk show’s truth or dare game—who’s the one person you’d never want to work with ever again?—the power couple could diminish her entire life’s worth of hard work.

Within the next few months, she’s back to square one. Every morning she tried to contact some old clients who would perhaps still deign to be affiliated with, according to the world’s biggest supermodel’s words on that talk show, ‘the rudest effin’ bitch I’ve ever seen in the industry’.

And after countless unsuccessful attempts, she went back to the cafe she used to work at when she’s still starting her career, not to network like she used to but to pour some coffee for other people again. She’s back with the apron and the napkin and she couldn’t stop being cynical over some hopeful youngsters who got signed right in front of her eyes, on the table she just wiped.

Her cameras were laid unused on top of her rack and the mini darkroom she built in her apartment became a storage room. Believing she had failed miserably in life, she found herself no longer had hopes on anything. All she knew was to get by the day.

It was a cold December night. Everyone else went home to celebrate the holidays so she decided to do the shift. She’d be paid double plus she wouldn’t have to face her family, which would go eerie in this state of her life, so it was the better choice.

Having had just finished cleaning the whole cafe, she put on her coat. She was ready to come home to… nothing. Her mind raced back to this time last year, where she was fully booked and couldn’t wait to come home so she could recharge herself for an exciting tomorrow. Her life had become exceptionally dull and it was painful to go on.

An abrupt banging on the door halted her train of desperate thoughts.

“We’re closed. Can’t you see the time?! It’s almost midnight!” she snarked, back facing the intruder.

“S- Sorry, love…” the hoarse voice was paused with a couple of hiccups. “‘m just completely devastated…”

She rolled her eyes as she turned around and she almost had a heart attack. There stood the man who destroyed her life, terribly wasted out of his mind. He could barely stand straight without holding onto the doorknob.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she rolled her eyes, asking some deity entity if there was ever one.

“Hey! I know yeh…” Harry tried to get to her but his legs just gave up.

Falling face first, Y/N really wanted to leave him on the street. But of course she had that little voice of reason inside her that constantly screamed, “If you abandon him, you’re nothing better than him!” She was a decent person and she really hated it this time.

“Come on up,” she pulled Harry up and lingered his arm around her shoulder to help him walk. “Where do you live?”

“I don’t k- know,” he giggled. “I can’t remember, love…”

“Try,” she slapped his arm when he almost fell off yet again.

The snow was pouring down and they stood by the empty crossroad. Harry wouldn’t even remember his own name by now and she didn’t know how to get to his house. There was no other choice than to bring him home to her place.

It was nothing short of hard work to carry a man twice her size to her house on foot since there was not even a single cab around. It was even harder to hear him tell a story about his first imaginary friend during that wobbly trip where he tumbled more than five times and she had to pick him up every time. But it was the hardest when she had to take off his shoes so it wouldn’t mess with her couch—he didn’t want to take it off, nagging her with numerous ‘Go away, Mum!’s.

When she finally got to lay on her bed, she was too tired to even think of what just happened. She literally did some cardio workout bringing Harry home safe so unlike her usual nights, she fell asleep quite fast this time.

It was around four in the morning when she felt a body of weight sunk into her side. She turned around to face his uninvited guest sound asleep, legs tangled over hers like a knot. She quietly removed her legs and tried to get up. She needed to move to the couch, or anywhere far away from this invader.

This is my fucking house, why am I the one sleeping outside, she thought to herself. Anger boiling at the top of her head as her movement was stopped by his strong hand.

“Stay here…” he slurs.

He didn’t seem conscious to her. Maybe he mistook her as his girlfriend.

“I’m not—“

“I know,” he cut her off while still sleeping. “Just stay here for a while. It’s cold out there.”

She sighed and laid back down. Stiff and uncomfortable, but obviously exhausted, she closed her eyes as Harry’s arm pulled her closer to him. She could only hope the night would soon end or better yet, this was all not real.

When Harry woke up, he found a sticky note on his forehead.

‘You were hammered last night, didn’t know where you live so I took you home. Nothing happened, you just sorta burst into where I work around midnight so I kind of had to not abandon you. Don’t make yourself at home because this is my home.’

He couldn’t remember anything. He remembered getting blind drunk after gulping those spirit shots but what happened after that was redacted. His surrounding was unfamiliar and there was no other sign of life other than him that morning.

After splashing his face with cold water, he looked around the apartment. It was modest but very personal. There were random film rolls hung by the ceiling as Harry made his way to the living room. He put on his shoes by the couch as he observed the vinyl shelf at the corner of the room. It was filled with 60s-70s biggest musicians, from Jimi Hendrix to Van Morrison—which grew his curiosity of the owner. There were books that he also read, and the series of psychedelic photographs framed by the doorway was the biggest tic that made him wonder: how did he end up in this hippie’s safe haven, one that he actually wanted to live in when he was young? Did he get so hammered that he traveled back in time? His head hurt too bad to even think of the possibilities, all he knew was there was something about the owner that felt familiar and he ought to know them. He had to.

Harry rushed to shower at his home and got some aspirin. After running some overdue errands, he immediately went back to the apartment. He knocked on the door a few times to no avail so he decided to wait by his car outside.

Y/N was relieved when there was no sign of Harry when she got home that night. She would be lying if she wasn’t a tad bit worried of him considering he could absolutely die that night if he went to the wrong place, but then again he was the guy who ended her career so she couldn’t care less.

She picked Nick Drake’s Pink Moon from her vinyl collection and put it on the turntable. Relaxing by the couch that still reeked of alcohol and him, she ignored the constant knock on the door. It was usually her crazy neighbor looking for his nonexistent cat.

It was the sixth track that she finally got up and opened the door, hoping to end the annoyance of her peaceful evening.

Her eyes bugged out when she saw the figure by her door. It was him again.

Harry, with his furrowed eyebrows and lanky feet, looked just as surprised as she was. He clearly remembered who she was and somehow, not even Nick Drake’s soothing voice could calm her down. Filled with rage, she slammed the door right in front of his face.

Harry was shocked to see her. He’d never thought in a million years that he’d ever meet her again, moreover lodged by her. He wanted to thank her but he knew she’d probably throw a glass of water to his face. But he could not just leave.

So he did the tackiest trick in the book. When the track from behind the closed door hit Free Ride, one of his favourites, he began singing along as loud as possible. Some neighbors shushed him, some even scolded him but he didn’t stop.

She heard him loud and clear. She ignored him at first, but then she received a noise complaint call from the super. Upset, she thumped her way towards the door.

“Stop it!” she gritted her teeth as she opened it.

He stopped. “May I come in?”

“What do you want?” she barked.

“Just wanted to say thanks,” he muttered low.

“You’re welcome. There,” she slammed the door again.

There was nothing he could do so he decided to leave for now.

He came again the next day, this time saying there was something he needed to give back to her.

“What now?” she wasn’t as upset as the day before, but was still unfriendly as they just stood by the door leaf.

Harry handed her the sticky note she left on his forehead the day before.

“You can keep it,” she said as she closed the door.

No slamming door. A progress, Harry thought.

He came back again two days after that, carrying a limited release Fleetwood Mac record signed by Stevie Nicks herself.

“Got Stevie to sign it. They don’t have this at the stores anymore,” he presented it as if he was doing some product placement scene.

“Look, Harry Styles,” she crossed her arms. “I don’t even know what the hell do you want from me but I really don’t want to have anything to do with you anymore. You’ve done enough.”

“Yes, about that…” Harry scratched his forehead. “’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” she pushed the door but Harry was quick to hold it open.

“I’d help you make things right again,” his green eyes were desperate for her answer.

She let out a heavy sigh and moved aside as if cuing him to enter her little bubble. Harry entered immediately, not wanting to waste any more time in the outside world.

She was listening to Neil Young’s Harvest Moon, to which Harry sang along gently. She could hate him all she wanted but he really sounded divine especially within close proximity.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else, anyway?” she sat on the far end of the couch.

He put the record on the coffee table. “Where, exactly?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Some talk show to say some shit about me with the girlfriend perhaps?”

“Look ‘m really sorry, I truly am,” he sighed. “And ‘m not with her anymore…”

He then explained everything. How he fell in love for the first time in his life with the supermodel who was perfect, beautiful, smart, and everything he’d ever dreamed of. How he was so sure of her but she didn’t feel the same so he tried to show it with everything he’s got—grand romantic gestures, going public (which was personally hard for him since he was a very private person), and siding with her on every kind of problem even if it meant hauling over an innocent photographer’s coals. He also explained how he felt awful most of the time since he’d changed so much for a person who didn’t even love him back and he began to feel lost. It all then culminated a couple nights ago when she decided that it was all still not enough and broke up with him over a phone call. That’s when he went crazy with the liquor and ended up wandering around.

She felt sorry for him and although she knew he could be lying, she could understand his pain. So, she decided to accept his apology. She knew it wouldn’t change anything for her but at least she wouldn’t have to carry around so much hatred in her life and he could also move on with his life, not haunted by the guilt.

He promised to help her gain her reputation back. The two planned to make some exclusive photoshoot of Harry himself.

They began meeting every now and then. At first, they would talk about all things professional and did photoshoots. She started receiving positive feedbacks especially after Harry gave her the shoutouts—it didn’t take a split second for his loyal fans to swarm her online profiles. With her raising popularity she started getting bigger gigs again, even bigger than her old gigs. She quit working at the cafe and her darkroom was occupied yet again.

Then, they would spend even more time together. He would make up excuses to meet with her, like he needed to see how she developed her rolls or coming by with a batch of eggs saying he was worried she ran out of eggs. Y/N knew Harry was just feeling lonely after the breakup so she always let him in. Nobody wants to hurt alone, she always thought.

He soon didn’t need any more excuses as he had become an extended roommate of hers. He always said he wanted to live in the 70s and her apartment was like a dream home for him. She just brushed it off, saying it’s because of her hidden interior designing talent. And with each passing day, as they grew closer, her hatred dissipated and was replaced with something strange yet pleasant inside her heart.

She learned the depths of him that no one else knew and it all became the little things only she understood. She felt privileged to gain the limited access.

Sometimes he’d show her the sneak peak of his newest song and she would give notes as she watered the many plants around her place. Sometimes they would play board games while discussing the possibility of living on Mars. Some other times, Harry would lay his head on her legs, not saying a word while Karen Dalton’s magnificent voice filled the air.

Her favourite moment with him had to be when they did the impromptu picnic under the stars. With a bottle of cheap wine, portable turntable, and shared blanket, they laid by the garden as they talked about their fears and desires. That was the first time in such a long time she could open up to someone and he said that made him feel so special.

Of course he was special to her. That’s why she still tiptoed around him from time to time, avoiding conversations like her love life because she didn’t want him to think that she’d like him when actually the growing feelings inside her heart had begun to suffocate her.

The way he spontaneously baked for her (and snobbishly told the infamous ‘I was a baker’ story), the way he laughed at her jokes, the way his eyes sparked when they were dancing around, the way he snored a little when he’s sleeping, the way he called her name—she wanted to just sink herself into his warmth and never let go.

Yet she couldn’t help but wonder whether he felt the same way too. The frequency of the supermodel’s name mentioned in their conversations has since reduced to almost never, but she still felt a sting in her heart as she knew she could never replace her. She was, after all, his first love. And don’t get her started on the physical prowess which she obviously lacked in compared to the supermodel. She didn’t dare to ask Harry whether he’s really forgotten about her, afraid that he’d find out her true feelings for him. So she remained the same. At least, he would be still by her side.

At least, there would never be any rejections.

The city was already blossoming when she realized that Harry had left traces of himself on every corner of her place. The hung film rolls were filled with his silly expressions, so was the polaroid collections stuck on her walls. He had installed a pile of pants by the corner of her living room so that he didn’t have to bring any change. And of course her bathroom now had a pair of tooth brushes. It rocketed her hopes but still, her doubts crept inside her mind every so often.

That lazy Saturday night, she went home from grocery shopping to find Harry asleep on her couch. He looked so soft and warm and she couldn’t help but to run her fingers through his smooth hair. She nervously came closer to his face and pressed a tender kiss on his forehead.

She got up immediately, afraid to wake him up. To her surprise, he suddenly grabbed her arm.

“What was that for, love?” he asked.

He didn’t even have the bed face he usually had, which led her to believe that he wasn’t really asleep.

“Were you pretending to be asleep?” she pulled away.

Harry stood up just as fast and within seconds, he wrapped her in his hug. He placed a kiss on top of her head and slowly traveled down to her forehead, her nose, her cheeks. His lips roamed over hers as he slowly pressed them. It wasn’t heated and full of lust but rather deep and passionate as if he was taking his time.

It didn’t take long before they made their way to the bedroom and undressed each other with no rush. There was no spoken words, no roughness, just two people tangled up in heated infatuation.

When she woke up, he was still there. And it was beautiful.

It was still beautiful the next few months when they became a couple. He was her world and everything else was just background noise. He made her feel like the only person that mattered, as if everything that happened before ‘them’ was unreal. That this was the only real thing and it was all too good to be true.

Y/N should know better though, that life came just like a full circle. She just didn’t expect to actually be put back into the circle so soon.

They were invited to an afterparty of a fashion line Harry was strongly tied to and Y/N was more than proud to be by his side when he was introduced to be the muse that season. He was having the time of his life and so was she. The two held hands the entire time as they talked to everyone.

The belle of the ball, Harry himself seemed overwhelmed with the amount of love he received. He occasionally pressed her hand a little tighter when he was nervous, to which she’d respond with stroking his hand with her thumb. The simplest gestures that they’d developed overtime as they grew accustomed to each other’s idiosyncrasies or as Harry said, the good stuff about you.

That was until he saw a glimpse of her in the middle of the crowd that he suddenly let go of Y/N’s hand as if he was afraid that she would see him with Y/N. It would have been a little over a year since she last saw the supermodel and almost a year since Harry last met her.

All this time, Harry constantly convinced her that her insecurities over his love was nothing, that he only wanted her. And yet, he never even said those three words to her.

She knew now why he never did.

All this time, it wasn’t doubt that kept haunting her. It was a hunch.

The music was blasting but for Y/N, everything was silence. It only took a few seconds before she realized the look in Harry’s eyes. As if it was never truly her his eyes set on. That she was just a company to pass time. That she was the one he wanted just never loved.

She was never the one.

She tried to grab his hand before he’d be gone for good, and could only let out a faint ‘Please, don’t.’

But he could only mutter a little ‘Sorry.’ as he let go of her grasp and made his way through the crowd, trying to get to her, while leaving Y/N drowning in the sea of human who celebrated the man that she loved.

Part two.

Part three.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #tinayoufatlarrdd #harry styles fanfic

748 notes · View notes

sundrops-crown · 4 years

Text

Fairy Tales

Summary: A drabble surrounding Flynn and Stalyan's relationship and how he dropped the question.

A/N: I really think Stalyan’s and Flynn’s relationship is interesting, and I wanted to test the waters by exploring their interactions as this is my first Tangled fic. Brief abuse mentions.

Flynn often thought he loved her. Sometimes he did not. It didn't really matter though because what could a guy like him really hope for? Not only was Stalyan beautiful, but she was a thief. Like him. And in their own little world, they were perfect for each other.

"Are you thinking this through? 'Cause I don't think you're thinking this through."

Flynn dodged as the guard swung at his head.

"You obviously are a very strong man, but you gotta ask yourself, is this really what the king would want?"

Another dodge.

"And do you really want to waste your energy on someone as nimble and witty as moi?"

As it became increasingly apparent his banter wasn't getting him anywhere, Flynn looked for the next best option. He kicked up the stick that had been lying near his foot and in a swift motion, he threw it at Stalyan who grabbed it in midair and whacked the guard over the head.

"Hey, angry! Over here," Stalyan yelled with her palms cuffed around her mouth.

The guard rushed toward her as she managed to leap off the wall and into the bushes, pulling Flynn with her.

They descended into the berry bushes surrounding the walls of Corona, laughing.

"Oh man, we are good!" He brushed the brambles off his legs and leaped out of the shrubbery.

"The stupid look on his face was priceless!"

Flynn grinned and helped Stalyan to her feet.

They were around Corona which was starkly different than his usual setting, but she told him to run away with her, so he did.

Flynn didn't have anybody who would miss him if he left Vardaros anyway. Well.. maybe Lance would, but he lost contact with him ages ago.

He stood up and held out a hand for Stalyan, who took it, smiling slyly.

"Well Rider, that was pretty quick thinking on your part."

"Beauty and Brains, am I right," Flynn said while flashing what he hoped would be a winning smile.

At first Flynn thought running away with Stalyan would just be them going on dates and occasionally making stiff old royals mad, but he quickly realized she was an excellent partner at all things. Read: stealing.

This particular day they had decided to snag jewelry that had just happened to be laying around in a tent set up with merchandise for the lost princess's birthday. Flynn honestly had never really cared much for the event, but the type of opportunities it opened up? Yeah, that was something to look forward to.

Stalyan looked up at the starry night sky around them. The stars twinkled in her eyes as she glanced at him and gave him a look.

"You know, Flynn, I've always wanted to go on a date under stars."

She held up the stolen items and watched them gleam in the night.

"I bet we could sell these for a pretty penny."

See, most people would feel guilty for selling something that wasn't theirs. And Flynn kinda felt guilty too. Key word "kinda." But Stalyan had convinced him his guilt was unwarranted, so he allowed himself to follow her.

Something he had learned very early on in their relationship was that when Stallion said something it usually wasn't best to argue. They were both headstrong and very opinionated which he supposed probably wasn't the best match.

Flynn put his arm around her shoulders and took the commemorative necklaces. They were emblazoned with a picture of the lost princess as a baby surrounded by lanterns.

"I bet we could but to who? Everyone here already has something to celebrate the day."

His eyes trailed over to the groups of families huddled anxiously around a fire. Most were unable to go inside the walls for whatever reason but some chose to stay outside to avoid the crowd.

"You know what, I think I may have the perfect idea."

***

They were laying down on a blanket near the edge of town, watching the night sky. In the lake in front of them, couples rowed by in boats, ready to watch the lanterns pass. He breathed in the beauty of the midnight color the sky had taken on and the chilly air that filled his lungs. He was about to open his mouth to comment on the scenery, but one look at Stalyan, and he promptly closed it.

Her gaze was trained on the couples in the river, and she looked... jealous? He knew Stalyan to be petty at times or to get angry when he would mess up or say something wrong. Heck, his back still stung from the last time he dropped her powder blush. But Stalyan being jealous? Now that was new. She usually had everything she wanted at her fingertips with her being the Barron’s daughter and all.

Stalyan looked directly at him and gave him a tight lipped smile.

"Flynn, when are you going to ask me to marry you?"

In that instant his mouth ran dry, and he was afraid if he opened his mouth no words would come out.

It's not that he didn't love her. He'd even be lying if he said the thought of proposing hadn't crossed his mind from time to time.

But he was so young. And even though he knew it was stupid, knew she would laugh at him if she knew, he wanted something like what was in the books he read.

In those days at the orphanage with Lance, where they would choose random books of the shelf to read, he would lose himself in all sorts of novels. One of his favorites (besides The Tales of Flynnagian Rider of course) were the fairy tales. Ones where the prince and the princess found each other and instantly fell in love. Where they went on quests and adventures together.

Where the prince wasn't scared of the princess.

He wanted something like that. And Stalyan, as beautiful as she was, was not that.

But maybe he was being delusional. He had her. And his mind chided him to remember that without her he had nothing. And if he lost her, he truly would have no one.

Flynn swallowed down the fear in his throat and grabbed her hands.

She began to grin, and he noticed how her eyes took on that familiar look they did when she was happy. Stalyan stood up while he kneeled in front of her and pulled out a ring he stole earlier (and was hoping to sell) from his pocket.

"You read my mind. Stalyan, will you marry me?"

She laughed. "Finally Rider. Of course I'll marry you."

His racing thoughts were interrupted when he felt her mouth on his.

When they broke for air, she looked at him with so much feeling and importance that he blushed. Maybe they would be alright after all. Fairy tales were just make believe anyway.

inspired by the song The Look by Metronomy

#disney #disney+#tangled the series #rapunzel the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tts #eugene fitzherbert #flynn rider #tangled fanfiction #stalyan

8 notes · View notes

paulieshore · 5 years

Text

Obey Me / SCM Au Series

Warnings: Triggers, Minor Gore.

Words: 2558

I Do Not Own The Rights To These Characters, Characters Belong To:

Obey Me! - Shall We Date

Star Crossed Myth - Voltage

Chapter 6: They’re Back!

Heavens

The King looked on smiling

“Oh, this is too much”

He watched Leon drag the girl and disappear from view. The smile dropping from his lips.

“I wonder….”

The House of Gods

“GET OFF ME!” You spit out, struggling.

He tucks his head into the crook of your neck, whispering something against your side. His warm breath on your skin paralyzing you from resisting. One of his hands slipping up the side of your thigh, the other holding you in place.

Zyglavis shows up out of nowhere and from his point of view, sees Leon defiling you. Quickly throwing Leon off you.

“LEON! That’s enough!” Pulling you up and hiding you behind him.

You stand behind him and feel your face burning, touching the spot on your neck which was also warm. The part of your thigh that was caressed was pulsing.

Leon’s laugh roars throughout the room, “You even have minister pony tail here around your finger, my oh my, what a talented little goldfish.” Clapping his hands, leaning back against a wall.

Zyglavis doesn’t entertain Leon’s taunting, “You’ve gone too far Rapid Lion, report to the King!” Immediately taking you from the room, and straight to another.

Once inside, Zyg sits you at a table, and softly speaks, “Stay here, I will deal with this matter. It will not go unpunished, I swear...” before leaving you alone.

Your hand never leaving the spot Leon’s lips just barely graced. You didn’t make out what he whispered, feeling so conflicted. Your brain screaming monster, your body aching for more of his touch.

…

What happened to the others!?

You sprang up and took off for the door, only to your disappointment, locked. You look around the room, black and white, with the occasional colours of books on a book shelf.

BINGO, A WINDOW!

You try to open it; it was also locked. Not that you could see any visible locks… Magic, maybe.

You slammed against the wall and crumpled to the floor, head between your legs.

“What do I do now”

Outside the Mansion

*When Leon dragged you away, it caught everyone’s attention. Lucifer looked horrified as you were taken, Leon’s eyes; pure hunger. Zyglavis quickly, told Hue to settle things out there and ordered all other gods back to the heavens, before chasing after Leon*

Hue turned around, seven pair of eyes that spoke millions of unsaid words, stared back.

“You don’t look well, go now… Please”

“Wait, fath- …” Lucifer bites his tongue from continuing.

“…”

“My apologies, Huedaut, God of Aquarius.” Lucifer locks eyes with him “Don’t let him hurt-“

“We won’t.”

“…”

Lucifer eventually nods, bending down and places something small to his feet. “If we cannot see her, please, at least ensure she gets these…” He flicks his head and signals his siblings to do the same.

Hue closes his eyes, and nods in agreement. Nobody knew the conflict that raged inside him, pain, sorrow and anger. Reminders of the past.

The brothers slowly left.

…

“She’d be proud of you boys, you know…” Huedaut says quietly to himself, watching the retreating individuals he used to know.

The siblings get a good distance away from the mansion before taking a break, all back in their usual forms.

“Holy FUCK!” Mammon looks around “No pun intended, but damn, I feel awful… We abandoned Y/N….” holding his head in shame.

“I have never felt so weak, so useless…” Satan wipes the glistening sweat from his forehead. “I’m really pissed off!”

Belphie and Beel sat in silence, catching their breaths.

“This sweat isn’t going to do any wonders for my skin” Asmo’s pouts, sprawled out on the ground.

Levi rambles, “That was like, a final boss, but like … *huff* we were not equipped at all for that battle…” his chest rising up and down, harshly.

“Levi?”

“yes, Satan?”

“Shut-up!”

Lucifer stands up and looks towards the path they came from “She’s not safe there…”

They all look at him questioning.

“Leon, you bastard” Lucifer whispers angrily.

The other six give each other a look of concern, nobody pushes the topic. After a moment of reprise, they head back to Devildom, heads hung low.

Where, Diavolo was patiently waiting to hear of their trip.

Inside the House of Gods

Pulling your head up, you investigated the well organised room. Everything had a place, no dust, hardly any colour. Even the bed was pristine, military tucks, not a crease in sight. Your eyes were drawn to what looked like a pool not far from the bed.

You got on your fours and crawled; the water wasn’t normal. It swirled with colours and images, you leaned forward to get a closer look. You saw people flashing through the whirls of colours, in all sorts of different cities.

‘OH! A reflecting pool!’

Karna had told you himself, the chief ministers’ have private ones in their rooms... Which must mean you were in Zyglavis’s room.

You looked to the door; feeling maybe you shouldn’t be looking into the pool. However, a scene below caught your attention.

Two men had another man pinned to a brick wall, in what looked like an alley way, they were beating him aggressively. Showing no signs of relenting on the man pinned; he shut his eyes in anguish.

“Oh my god, STOP THAT!” you shouted

The scene kept going, the man was bleeding from his nose, his mouth and even his eyes now. Spewing blood with every hit the other men threw.

“NO, PLEASE STOP! YOUR KILLING HIM!!” You watched in terror; your eyes unable to turn away.

A gloved hand covered your eyes.

*SNAP*

You’re gently being tugged from the floor, and stood up. The hand that was over your eyes, uncovering… Zyglavis.

He pulls a tissue from his pocket and gently wipes the tears; you hadn’t realised you were crying.

“…. T-that, t-that man…”

“It’s alright, see for yourself...” He gestures his hand back towards the pool.

You cover your own eyes and peak through the cracks of your fingers. The man was laying on a stretcher, the other two in handcuffs being forced against a police vehicle. You removed your hands and cheered, flowing with relief.

“Thank god!” You looked over to Zyglavis and swore you caught him smiling at you. Just before his face returned to its usual sternness.

You take a step back from him and bow “Thank you, sir.”

Zyglavis cheeks slightly tint and he turns away from you, “It’s my job, to punish those who deem fit for punishment.” He walks towards his desk and sits down. “Y/N, for the time being, you will be staying in either mine or vice minister Scorpio’s room.”

You were about to reject but considering what transpired earlier, having Zyglavis near might be a safer option.

Wait, did he just say Scorpio too….

Oh, hell no!

Devildom

The journey back to devildom was a sullen one. All seven brothers reported straight to Diavolo on arrival.

“I will give credit when credit is due, considering the tension. You all held grounds respectively and without furthering conflict. Well done boys.” Diavolo smiles “and with that welcome back!”

Diavolo was the only one smiling, everyone remained silent, glum.

…

“I don’t quite understand what you all expected” Diavolo exhales, shaking his head “Time doesn’t heal all wounds, you were lucky enough Y/N was even in view at all. I don’t believe they would have merely brought her to you or welcomed you in for tea.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes.

“Lucifer, you seemed to be in a mood?” Barbotas observes how much more chaotic he seemed compared to the others.

He crosses him arms, and closes his eyes “I am tired.”

Diavolo nods in agreement, “I can imagine so, go now, rest all of you. You still have student council duties to attend as well as school tomorrow.”

A few groans and moans left the lips of Levi, Mammon, Asmo and Belphie.

*After the brothers returned to the respected rooms in the house, Satan went to Lucifer’s room. *

“Come in.”

Satan opened the door, “Do you have a moment?”

Lucifer’s eyebrow shoots up, but inevitably nods his head.

Satan sits infront of his desk, gripping the arms of the chairs.

“Was that him?” he looks to Lucifer, confusion in his eyes.

“Who?”

“The one called, father?”

“Huedaut? … Yes.”

“Why… why didn’t I feel so enraged towards him, like the others? Why… Why did I feel such warmth radiate from him…to me?”

*During the night, Asmo slipped out and made his way to Solomon’s. *

Solomon lets Asmo in, “What do you want at this god forsaken time of night!?” whining half asleep.

“Solomon, I have a favour to ask of you”

His eyes shot open and he stared in disbelief at Asmo.

“A favour of me, Asmodeus?”

“Yes, It’s about Y/N….”

The next day: RAD

Student council meeting went as usual, Diavolo was walking out the hall with Lucifer and Barbatos at each side.

A piercing scream over powers the hustle and bustle of all the students, everyone stops. A student comes running down one of the halls, drenched in blood.

Pandemonium breaks out, students start running in each direction.

Diavolo’s voice carried through the halls, “What is going on?!”

Normally, people would stop and obey the order in his voice, however it was like his obeying tone was deafened to the chaos ravaging around.

Diavolo, Barbatos and Lucifer took to demon forms and began charging through the crowds. Stopping before a clearing, where a student lay in the middle of the floor. She was covered in gauges, laying in a pool of her own blood. One of her arms completely severed, eyes still open; no life in them.

!!!!!

“They’re back!”

The House of Gods

You didn’t sleep great, stressed from yesterday. Probably didn’t help you slept in Zyglavis’s room, you tried to persuade him, he wouldn’t budge. You didn’t want to sleep in his bed, where would he sleep? Turns out, gods don’t actually ‘need’ sleep. Which was totally crazy to you, sleep was amazing!

None the less, you spent the night here. He worked away all night, quietly, snapping his fingers, writing, writing and writing.

He told you last night you’d be under Scorpio’s care today, you wished for Karno but ‘apparently’ Karno was busy. You tried to explain to Zyglavis how much Scorpio scares you and how much he dislikes you; but orders were orders.

Lucky me – you thought.

Grumbling as you stir in bed.

“I’m starting to think your part demon yourself, with the amount of unlady like noises you seem to make.” Zyglavis says without even glancing away from the pool.

You shot straight up “Exxxcusssse me?”

You eyed him up, his back to you.

He sort of, looked over his shoulder. Just barely, but DEFINITLY seeing the corners of his mouth, turned up. “Deaf now too?”

Your eyes squint and you courageously (or stupidly) snap back “Oh you’re a comedian as well as a chief minister hmm?”

He turns to you, and you quickly duck under covers.

‘STUPID, STUPID, STUPID!’

‘He’s the Chief Minister of PUNISHMENTS’- you were cursing yourself.

You poked a finger out and waved it like a flag in hand “Truce?”

…

You peaked your head out next, he was turned back towards the pool. You sighed inwardly with relief.

“Seeing as your so energetic, get up, get ready. We will then head off for Scorpio.”

You wished you could just push him into that pool.

A warm voice flows through your mind, laughing, ‘Behave child.’

Your eyes scanning the roof.

Heaven

Leon was laying in his bed, moody. Karna approaches quietly, “I see even when your punished to work more, you dont.”

“…”

“Leon, as your friend, and trusted advisor. Please, hear me out? If you apologise to her we can all just move forward from this.”

Leon’s sharply stares at Karno, “I, a god, apologise to a mere goldfish? Have I not been punished enough?”

“Leon, we both know you were let off rather easy. If Zyg had his way, this could have ended differently.” He adds as he picks up and scans some of the reports on Leon’s desk.

He clicks his tongue, “You really like that ‘thing’ don’t you.”

Karna turns to him, “That ‘thing’ is a bright, kind, and forgiving individual. Who happens to go by the name of Y/N” Shaking his head “You could try to find that out yourself and see just why myself and the broth-“

“DO NOT…” Leon stands from his bed “mention them.”

Karno nods his head, “Apologies Chief, I’ll give you some time to think about it.” Just before closing the door he pops his head back in “Oh, and by the way, could you actually pick up a report while you’re at it. I sure would appreciate it”

*CRASH*

Leon had thrown something near by to his ever so pushy vice minister, unfortunately Karna shut the door before it made contact.

Leon fell backwardly back onto the bed.

He some how drifted off into sleep, dreaming…

** “Chief, I have the reports from Vice Minister Karno.”

“Thank-you, come sit and drink with me. Your father should be here soon as well.”

“Sir, shouldn’t we be looking over the reports?”

“Minister ponytail is beginning to have an effect on you, have a little fun.”

Leon sees himself talking to Lucifer. He grits his teeth, why would I be dreaming of this…

Mixed emotions as he sees himself genuinely smiling with him, like good friends.

The dream shifts to another time

“Lucifer, your brother Belphegor was caught sneaking off to the human realm again.” Leon laughs as he watches a familiar Lucifer stand up and scurry away, cursing. So quickly some of his pure white feathers leave a trail behind him.

Leon walks up and picks a feather up running it against his palm, “I don’t recall ‘this many’ feathers falling behind that day… You can cut the crap, Kivy. I know these dreams are your doing.” **

Leon opens his eyes and Kivy is standing at the end of his bed smiling. “Dreams are miraculous don’t you think?”

“What do you want now?”

“Be still your tongue, young lion.” He knits his brows.

“…”

Leon’s lip curls, he sits himself up and walks towards the reflecting pool to the side. In the pool he sees the girl, twiddling her thumbs following Scorpio with her head down.

…

“If it wasn’t for her sacrifice, what do you think would have become of the realms. Of all of us, Hmm?” Kivy strolls gracefully next to Leon silently watching.

“Oh, so it’s my fault for the way things turned out then, wasn’t it Kivy, King of Gods who declared we play no part?” Leon scoffs

“Answer the question, Leon.”

Leon doesn’t say anything at first, he just looks from the corner of his eyes to the king smiling down into the pool. “She isn’t her. We owe her nothing.”

“You’re wrong yet again.” Turning and slowing gliding towards the door.

Leon turns his full attention to Kivy, “Correct me if I’m wrong. Tell me then.”

“Hmm… No” He turns and smiles at Leon “It will be much more fun to just see how things all play out.” Kivy giggles

Their conversation is then interrupted, Zyglavis rushes into the room.

“My King! We have had an urgent message from the Underworld!”

Kivy nods his head, as if he already knew.

“Hmm, so it’s begun…”

To be continued.

Story now on AO3.

Reblog, like, comment, follow - show some luv xx

thank you for reading, i hope you enjoy

CH1 - CH2 - CH3 - CH4- CH5 - CH7

29 notes · View notes

grouptalekindnesssoulstories · 4 years

Text

Consciousness within a Conscious

@magpiemorality Happy Birthday and congrats on 500! I’m excited to participate in the Write this in your style (or dtiys for writing)

Warnings: Remus being himself, mentions of depression, arguing, puking. Let me know if I need to tag anything else!

____

“Mimi, where’d you go?” Ian called, searching for me. I knew they wanted to check on me, but I was busy. Well, busy with something I didn’t want to talk about. I tried to skitter away to the ceiling to escape, but the other sides stuck with me had other ideas.

“Here Ian!” Remus, or the part of us that was Remus called. Dee and I tried to fight him to hide, but he was stubbornly stronger than us.

“Remus? You’re not- What the heck happened?!” Ian asked, skittering above us. My claimed older sibling dropped onto our head. All of us answered at the same time, resulting in a eerie echoing blend of all of our voices.

“We somehow fused. We don’t know how or why. It started with Mimi and Dee. Then Remus tried to do something and he ended up stuck too”

“Don’t touch us!” I called out, and Ian scrambled away again.

“We have to ask for help” Dee tried to talk. Remus started to say he could handle it, and I protested that I did not want to appear from the subconscious. While we argued, Ian disappeared. I strained my set of arms to grab hold of the wall, while Dee used his to shut up Remus, who was using the last set, his, to stop Dee’s.

“May I inquire why Ian dragged me down here?” Logan asked, his appearance slightly ruffled, Ian peering over his shoulder from their perch on his back.

“Logie!” “Logan!” “Logic” We all chorused, making the other sides cringe. There was a struggle, which Dee won.

“We fused. Somehow, Mimi and I ended up as one, then Remus was sucked in when he touched us”

“Interesting. I have not heard of sides fusing, only splitting” Logan summoned a book and pencil, jotting notes down.

“It’s fairly common down here. Or...where I’m from” I spoke up.

“Ah. You must be Mimi. May I ask what you represent?”

“Mimicry. Ian adopted me when I formed. We come from the deep subconscious. Where our influence is limited. There, we fuse and unfuse all the time. I’ve never heard of known sides doing it though. They are more...solid” I cringed away, my set of our arms wrapping around the center of all of us.

“Which is why you addressed me by ‘Logic’ instead of my chosen name Logan”

“She said yes” Dee answered for me, realizing I had no more desire to speak.

“She? So I assume she uses she/her?”

“She uses multiple pronouns. They’re comfortable with any, so use whichever you want”

“So, even in the sub-subconscious they have names?”

“We do. It’s easier than trying to figure out our purposes. So, we just chose names” Ian piped up from their perch.

“It would be easiest to bring you to my room to continue this discussion, so we may get answers” Remus and Dee nodded at Logan’s suggestion, while I shrugged. I let the other two take charge, retreating to the back of our shared conscious. I snickered at the irony. When fused, I remained where I always had. I didn’t pay much attention to most of the questions, trusting Dee and Remus to answer. After a while, I felt a nudge of ones of the others. I returned to the front reluctantly.

“Ah. I see Mimi has returned” Logan said as I blinked. The other two had given me control for now.

“Yes. How’d you know?”

“Your eyes. They gain another shade of brown in both. Remus has more of a red tint, while Deceit adds yellow only to the left eye and the impression of scales. You add more of a...hazel color”

“Oh. What did you need me for?”

“I have a few questions. So how does the rearrangement of sides work in the sub-subconscious? How long have you existed?” I held up a hand, thinking.

“I am one of the oldest sides in there. I once lived with Ian in the subconscious. As Thomas grew older though, I retreated deeper. I assumed it was to reform, but for whatever reason I didn’t. You can usually tell when one of them will fuse or dissolve entirely. They start fading if they are no longer useful. If they are to combine, they start...bleeding into one another. When one of them will unfuse, they start to gain different voices, appearances. Then one day, they’re separate. Never have sides fused immediately. I’ll admit, I’m lost. I thought at first, I was to fuse with Dee and... disappear. I thought it was more instant since I was no longer front of mind. It was about time. Then, Remus was pulled in, and I still existed! I don’t know why or how” I mused. The two unfused sides looked horrified. Dee was just as surprised, Remus was too, in his own way. His thoughts unfurled into even darker concepts.

“And it was just when he touched you?” Dee nudged me, and I let him take over speaking.

“Yes. He believed we were me. So he tapped my shoulder, and then he was here”

“Like a crocodile snapping up a leg!” Remus crowed. Only Ian reacted, falling out of their chair.

“Anything odd happen while that fusing happened?” Logan pressed on, while I drew Remus into our own conversation.

“My other sets of arms came out. However, we each only control one set. The bottom pair is Mimi, the middle is me, and the top’s Remus” Dee answered.

“I must test something. Ian, would you be willing to fuse with them?” Logan turned to the perched side.

“Uh, sure?” They answered, moving closer. After a nod from Dee, and thumbs up from both me and Remus, they reached out a hand. When they touched our hands, or rather Remus’s hand, they disappeared. We all lurched together, the head space shrinking slightly as another one of us was added. A fourth set of arms appeared from our shoulders.

“I certainly have a lot to figure out” Logan commented before shooing us out of our room.

“Where do we go now?” I asked in our head.

“We’ll need to be easily found, when Logan figures it out” Dee contributed.

“Imagination!” Remus tried.

“Too big” Dee countered.

“Common room?” Ian tried. I hummed nervously.

“Which one?” I asked after a moment.

“....good point. I suppose our’s?”

“Deceit?” A voice interrupted our mental argument. I whined, retreating slightly in our head.

“Yessss?” Dee hissed in his nervousness, turning to Mor-Patton. He called himself Patton.

“What happened?” The smaller side asked in horror.

“Logan’ssss trying to figure out how, but we fusssed. Remussss, Mimi, Ian, and I that issss” He drew out his s’s as he picked up on the fear.

“Did Ian start it? or Remus?”

“No, I did. I don’t know how, but I did” I piped up, wincing at the raw nervousness on Patton’s face.

“We’ll be going to our common room now. Enjoy whatever you were doing!” Remus yelled. We were stopped short by Roman, who had sneaked up behind us.

“Re? Are you ok?” He asked, searching our face. Patton approached.

“Yep! I certainly am brother dearest!” Remus crowed.

“Don’t touch us!” I yelled at the same time, which caused both ‘light’ sides to jump. Patton got the message though and didn’t try to lay a comforting hand on us again.

“It’s how we fused” Dee answered after a moment.

“You can come to our common room. We can watch movies to pass the time” Roman offered. I summoned a rubber band to fiddle with while we thought.

“That would be amazing, thank you” Dee answered after a minute for all of us. We followed the other two down the stairs, settling on a chair that Remus adjusted to our needs. Virgil appeared after a minute, took one look at us, and shook his head. I was busy watching my first disney movie, so I didn’t notice the small smile on his face.

~~~

Logan strode down the hallway, clutching his book in his hands. There was no time to waste! Information had been found and assessed and mused over, and now it needed to be shared. It could be vital! It could change everything. He just hoped he was still in time to help. Hadn't he said that the right piece of knowledge could make all the difference in the world?!

"I'm coming!" He called, speeding up his stride. "I know the answer!"

~~~~

We were busy debating if we should make snacks or not when I heard Logan’s footsteps. I nudged the others, Ian jolting awake while the other two focused on what I pointed out.

“I know why you’re fused!” Logan slid down the banister, his appearance ruffled and his eyes alight with excitement.

“Thomas wants us as one?” Ian tried, grumpy at being woken. Logan shook his head.

“I’m suppose to fade?” I mumbled, mimicking Danni's depressed attitude.

“Butts!” Remus added hopefully.

“To increase or decrease each of our current influence?” Dee tried at the same time.

“Close Deceit, but no. It’s a result of Mimi’s purpose. They are mimicry, and the best way to mimic something” Logan raised his notes.

“...is to become it” I finished for him. He nodded. I sighed again, resigned.

“So it is a result of their meddling!” Roman summoned his sword, raising it threateningly.

“No! Roman, put away the sword” Logan raised a hand, and Roman obeyed reluctantly.

“He’s not wrong” I whispered.

“No, he is wrong. Has anyone fused with you?” Logan asked me. I retreated in surprise. Dee and Ian nudged me forward again.

“One, a long time ago. They called themselves...Theo if I remember correctly”

“Any idea what they represented?”

“No”

“Specs, why are you asking” Virgil popped his head out from his perch on the shelf.

“It may offer a clue as to why they fused. Now, any idea if Theo was ever front of mind?”

“No, they weren’t. They formed about a year after I returned to the sub-subconscious. They fused with me about 3 or 4 months after that”

“Another dead end. However, I believe, the former trait Theo represented is an ability that gives you the option to fuse with any side that comes in contact with you”

“This has never happened before, and lots of sides have come in contact with me. It may be because of how close my purpose and Dee’s are, which activated the trait?”

“Yes! That makes complete sense. He disguises himself, imperfectly, as us occasionally. And you would mimic us down to the smallest detail! So, that’s why you fused. Since he also represents self-preservation, it activated the hidden trait in you to keep you alive”

“So how do we unfuse?” Ian piped up.

“Try using your powers. It may separate you all”

“Ooooo me first!” Remus piped up, and the rest of us moved out of the way. He curled his hands weaving something, and then he popped out of our shared mindspace. He landed on the floor, and his creation danced in the air. It was a tentacled monster that Roman soon made a few friends for. The fourth pair of arms vanished too, and Ian gained control of the top pair.

“Now you Ian” Logan looked up from his note taking. Once again, Dee and I moved away as Ian concentrated. They shivered, reaching for the shelf Virgil was on. Another pop, and they were banging their head on the ceiling as they overshot the shelf.

“Now the hard part” Dee said, flexing the extra pair of arms before storing them.

“Separating us” I added at confused looks.

“Indeed. I would suggest using your powers, but we don’t know if that’ll work”

“...I’ll try. It’s Dee’s body anyways. Just...don’t mourn me if I fail” I offered a half smile as Dee’s consciousness retreated. I closed my eyes, focusing on my job. Who could I mimic? After a moment, I chose Remus. I focused all of my being on becoming Remus. His love of butts, desire to be loved, and unfiltered thought. My ears popped, and I yelped as I collided with the floor. I lifted my single pair of arms as I opened my eyes. I was myself again. I turned to the side as my body rebelled, puking. Dee was wobbling on his feet when I looked up.

“...Hi” I mumbled, cleaning up my mess. All of the ‘light’ sides were staring at me when I finished.

“You’re so small” Logan examined me. I shrugged.

“You don’t exactly age where I live. I’m younger than Ian, so I’m still small” I offered, Remus drawing his twin’s attention away from me and to the mock animal fight. Patton turned to fuss over Ian as I rose to my feet.

“Mimi, what are you doing?” Virgil asked as I started walking away.

“....leaving? I’m not exactly allowed this far. I was pushing my boundaries when I visited Dee” I continued to walk away, hiding my hands in my pockets.

“Wha-” Logan started to say as the information I gave him finished processing in his brain and his notes.

“See ya later Ian. Nice to meet you all, Virgil, Logan, Patton, Roman. Remus, Dee, hope I can visit sometime again. With no touching next time” I sunk out, to the emptiness of the sub-subconscious. I ran a hand along a wall that formed briefly, entering my room before anyone could follow me. My room drifted away again as the door closed behind me.

#magpie500 #sanders sides #oc sides #impulse #mimicry #my writing #sympathetic sides #sympathetic light sides #sympathetic dark sides #depression #ts sides

15 notes · View notes