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sundaysundaes · 4 years ago

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Love Bites

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader, ft. Mark Lee | Vampire AU, Roommates AU | Smut, Fluff, Humor, Romance

Summary: Supernatural creatures don’t scare you, so when the cute neighbor who lives just across the hallway offers you a chance to move in for cheaper rent, you agree in a heartbeat--even when he consumes human blood on a daily basis.

Warnings: Smut, vampire sex, sex in front of a mirror, blood sucking, unprotected sex, slight choking. For the sake of the plot, Y/N is slightly intoxicated in this fic (drunk sex). Please don’t read this fic if this makes you feel uncomfortable. I also don’t approve nor allow taking advantage of your romantic partner while they are under the influence of alcohol.

Supernatural things don’t really scare you. Growing up in a family that tells urban legends and mystical myths as bedtime stories makes you feel somewhat reserved toward spooky stuff, to the point that you won’t even bat an eyelash during a jump scare at literally any scary movie out there. It’s not like you’ve seen any supernatural creatures with your own eyes but you believe in their existence, especially when you live in a town where freaky things happen on daily basis.

You’re not sure about werewolves and zombies, but vampires do roam the earth the second the moon replaces the sun. It’s not merely a rumor anymore, it’s a fact. But they keep their presence in secret, trying to act as humanly as possible so they won’t gather unnecessary attention. And since no one has found any dead bodies with bite marks or severe blood loss, people don’t really identify them as a threat. You perceive things in a similar way. As long as they don’t bother you, then you can co-exist in peace. That’s what you believe.

So when you visit your neighbor in the middle of the night, the cute guy—probably still in his early twenties—who lives just across the hallway, you figure you’ll see him smiling back, maybe even offer you a cup of coffee out of courtesy. Now, you don’t usually barge into someone else’s apartment even when the front door is unlocked, but seeing how the two of you are already on a first-name basis, always greet each other with a nod whenever your eyes make eye contact, you think to yourself, “Yeah, he wouldn’t mind if I come in, would he? What’s the worst thing that could happen? He’s too cute to be a serial killer anyway.” Which, you realize soon enough, was a poor, terrible logic on your part.

But you turn over his doorknob with a click and invite yourself in.

So clearly, you do not expect to see him sitting bare-chested on the couch with his girlfriend’s legs hooked around his waist. Clearly, you do not expect to see his hand yanking at the roots of her hair, forcing her to expose the column of her neck and making her call his name in the most wanton moan you’ve ever heard in your life—even if you’ve had a fair share of watching porn movies (for research purposes). And you most clearly do not expect to see him sinking his canines deep into her skin, not caring when trails of blood start to taint her bare shoulder and groaning in bliss as he relishes the taste of her blood.

So naturally, the only thing you can think of is:

Oh shit.

“Wait!” A hand finds its way to tangle around your wrist when you slip behind his front door to run back to your own. His icy cold skin makes you flinch in surprise but you keep your face still. As you turn around to see the owner, you’re greeted by the sight of him with his eyes turning as dark as the night. His brunette hair is made of curls and waves, seems unbelievably soft and silky with bangs almost covering his eyes. His lips and cheeks are smeared with fresh blood, possibly from trying to wipe his mouth in hurry with the back of his hand. His fangs are no longer shown and although he seems breathless, you can tell he’s not breathing from how still his chest is moving (but you’re too distracted with the sight of how toned it is). His black jeans are hanging dangerously low on his hips, unbuttoned but not yet unzipped, and it’s harder for you to not stare at his v-lines compared to the amount of blood that painted his lips.

Trying to act nonchalant, you simply ask, “Yes?”

“This isn’t what it looks like.”

“Oh, so you’re not a vampire drinking blood from your girlfriend’s neck?”

He gapes, eyes growing wide, before, “Okay, then it is what it looks like.”

You retract your hand, giving him a formal nod. “Cool.”

“Cool?”

“Yeah, as in, no problem. You have a kink. I understand.”

“No, I mean—” He pinches the bridge of his nose, somewhat dizzy from your reaction. “Why are you so calm about this?”

You frown. “I’m confused. Would you rather have me freak-out and tell our landlord that you’ve been spilling maiden’s blood on his carpet?”

“Well, no, but—” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Also, I’m a professional. I don’t leave stains.”

“Congratulations, I’m impressed.” You clap your hands twice, face blank. “Well anyway, I guess I owe you an apology. I didn’t mean to sneak into your apartment without permission and disturb your…” You scratch your cheek, attempting to find the right word. “Late night snacking time—”

“Oh, God.” He rubs his palm over his face but before he can protest any further, his lover is calling him from the inside of his room.

“Lee Donghyuck, come back to me. I haven’t come yet.”

You stare flatly at him, trying not to look as judgmental as possible but most likely failing terribly at it. “She sounds nice.”

He mirrors the look on your face. “Yeah well, she tastes nice.”

“Ugh, too much info there, buddy.”

“No, I mean, her blood, not—” You’re not sure whether vampires can blush but this one surely seems like one. “Why did you even come here again?”

“Oh, that’s right.” You remember. “This is totally cliche and I wish I could say a better excuse but I was making coffee and ran out of sugar. Do you have some I can borrow? And maybe some cream?”

“Seriously?” It’s supposed to be a sarcastic response, but when he sees you nodding your head, he adds, “Do I look like I drink coffee in my spare time?”

“You spend eternity without drinking coffee?” You gasp, laying a hand on your heart. “I feel sorry for you.”

“Leave. Please.”

***

On the next evening, you find yourself crossing the hallway and knocking on his apartment’s door again. Knowing how patience has never been one of your virtues, you try to turn his doorknob after your third knock. Like last night, it’s unlocked with a click so you invite yourself in, calling his name.

“Lee Donghyuck, are you here—”

“I really need to fix that stupid lock.”

The sound of his voice startles you when he suddenly walks into view, but not as much as the sight of him with a white towel hanging around his neck, his wet hair dripping water to his bare chest, and another towel wrapped around his waist.

He notices you’re staring so with a small smirk, he comments, “So you’re fine seeing me with human’s blood on my face but completely left in shocked when I’m half-naked?”

You put your best effort to act unfazed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You do know us vampires can tell when you’re lying, right? We can hear your heartbeat.”

“And yet, you didn’t hear me coming into your apartment last night.”

“I was…” He narrows his eyes. “Distracted.”

“You mean you were too horny to notice.”

“You—” He exhaled loudly, perhaps a habit he invented to make him seem more human. “Why are you here again today?”

“Can’t I greet my neighbor?”

He snorts loudly but walks away, throwing himself on the couch. “Seriously, why aren’t you surprised about this?”

“About you being a vampire? Or about your God awful taste in women?”

“Yeah?” He mocks back, making a face. “As if your boyfriend Mark Lee is any better.” When he sees a blush blooming on your face, he snickers. “Enlighten me, Sweetheart. How does it feel to have a lover that only last for one minute during—”

“Okay, I’ll take my words back. Everything. Can we move on, please?” You try to yank yourself back to your normal state, even when you feel downright ashamed. “So, this vampire thing. How long have you been a vampire?”

“Long enough.”

“How old were you when you first turned?”

“Young enough.”

“How often do you drink human blood?“

“Often enough.”

You glare at him, earning a sly grin in return. “You’re not taking me seriously, are you?”

He sends you the best serious expression he can manage. “Serious enough.”

“Right, okay, I’m leaving. Have fun being an asshole for eternity.”

But the second you turn around in your heels, Donghyuck is already on the other side of the room, closing his front door and leaning his back against it. “Now, now, you come in as you please, uninvited. You don’t think I’ll let you go just like that, right?”

You raise an eyebrow in question. “What do you want?”

“I think it’s something that we both want.” He steps closer, voice sounding smooth and alluring. “You know what I’m talking about, right?”

You gulp, suddenly becoming nervous. He’s an arms reach away, and then closer, and closer until you can feel his cold fingers tracing against your cheekbone, lifting your face so his eyes are locked with yours.

“I’m—” You can feel your breathing starts to stutter. “I’m not giving you my blood.”

“But it’s not blood that I want from you.” His eyes are half-lidded, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “I’ve been thinking about this so much lately.”

Your heart feels like a ticking bomb inside your chest. “A-about what?”

“About our rent. Do you want to move in together so we can split the rental fee?”

***

It’s both ridiculous and dumb, his offer to move in together for cheaper rent, so it’s even more ridiculous and dumb when you agree to it. There are several reasons that make sense, actually��at least, to you anyway: 1) your neighbor may be a vampire but he’s super hot and although that doesn’t make everything okay, it does make his offer sound incredibly tempting, 2) your landlord is going to raise the rent in the following two months, 3) your part-time job’s salary can only cover so much of your living cost and you have no savings whatsoever, 4) if you can ignore the fact that he brings random girls at night for midnight snacks, he becomes much, much hotter.

Of course, there are risks to think about as well. Sharing a place with another person can bring trouble, so you can only imagine how troublesome would it be to share your home with a vampire. What if he gets too thirsty and starts drinking from you instead?

You gulp. The thought of it is actually kind of… sexy.

Mark. You mentally slap yourself in the head. You have a boyfriend. Stop crushing on your damn neighbor.

Well, there is nothing serious going on with Mark actually. You guys were just lab partners in high school, went on a couple of dates, had a terribly awkward first kiss, had a heavy make-out session with him ejaculating under one minute when you dry-humped him on the couch of your living room.

So yeah, nothing serious.

“My apartment or yours?” You ask after a week has passed by, the second he opens his door for you. “Your apartment is bigger, but mine is cleaner.”

“Whatever you want, Sweetheart,” he smirks, leaning against the doorframe, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t mind as long we can split the fee.”

“Yeah, why is that? You’re running out of money?”

His smirk instantly falters. “Well, it’s not exactly easy for vampires to get a job these days.”

“You literally have superhuman skills.”

“Well, you guys have the technology!” He throws his hands in the air, absolutely disgusted with the word by the sight of it. “And the Internet! Sure, I can run pretty fast, I have super hearing, I can see in the dark but these fucking technologies can do literally everything I’m capable of—and everything I’m not capable of—with only a few clicks!”

“Do you need a hug?”

He’s still pouting but shrugs. “Can’t hurt.”

“There, there.” You give him a pat on his back as he leans down so you can reach his height. “I’ll teach you some basic stuff to get you updated.”

“Thanks.”

“You’ll get through this.” You pull away, squeezing his shoulders. “So, about moving in together. Shall we talk about house rules and stuff?”

“Sure, but before that,” he smiles, opening his door wider for you. “Come in. I don’t bite.”

It’s something about him using that poor choice of words with that teasing smirk on his face that makes your stomach feel uneasy but you nod and let yourself in. As he closes the door, he adds, “Unless it’s what you’re into.”

“Getting my blood drunk by a vampire?” You scoff, trying to steady your racing heart though he can probably tell already. “Why would it be something I’m into?”

“Well, my ladies surely enjoyed it,” he chuckles and you secretly think to yourself, yeah because you’re fucking hot, that’s why, but you keep yourself ignorant on the outside. “But if you’re ever curious,” he coos, eyes nearly glowing as he pushes his bangs back with one hand, “I’m down anytime you want.”

You shudder, but from disgust or excitement, you’re not sure. “Thanks, but no thanks. So, house rules?”

***

It turns out to be shockingly easy to share an apartment with an undead creature of the night. Your source of information regarding vampires are from the collection of your young adult supernatural novels, ranging from something serious like Interview with The Vampire, to something mediocre like The Vampire Diaries, and something absolutely ridiculous and downright outrageous like Twilight. So it’s not really surprising when your first assumption of vampires are dead people who look unusually pale but strikingly attractive, have constant frowns on their faces as they brood over literally everything that’s happening as if they’re constipated all the time (they’re not, since vampires don’t have that bodily function anymore) and kill people in their spare time by sucking their blood dry.

But Donghyuck isn’t like that at all, to the point you have to convince yourself that he’s a century-old vampire and not a brat going through puberty.

Because Donghyuck isn’t pale, his skin is tan as if he was kissed by the sun when he has been hiding from it his whole life. It’s smooth, unscarred, and almost golden under the fluorescent light of your apartment.

He’s not heartless either. He cried during watching Hachiko even when the dog owner was still alive and well, shouting, “Bad shit is going to happen. Bad shit is going to happen to the dog—look how cute that dog is—look just how fucking cute he is—he doesn’t deserve any pain—if this dog dies by the end of the movie, I will combust,” to the screen. So the thought of him killing someone by sucking their blood dry? Seems very unlikely.

And he’s not broody or angry all the time. He’s extremely playful and annoyingly mischievous. He keeps his stock of blood in empty bottles of red wine and places them inside the fridge with a handwritten note that says: “It’s really just wine, Sweetheart. I bought some as a housewarming gift. Come take a sip.” You did, once, out of curiosity, and from that day on you promised yourself that you’d never ever trust his words for as long as you live.

Being a monster, he should’ve been the cause of fear, but in reality, he gets scared from a lot of things—even the things that shouldn’t scare a baby. You will never forget the day when a loud crash came thundering from his room, two seconds before he came barging into yours, screaming with wide eyes, “THERE’S A COCKROACH FLYING IN MY ROOM!”

“And what did you do?”

“I THREW THE TV AT IT BUT THAT FUCKING THING STILL LIVES!”

“WHAT?! But that’s our TV!”

“IT WAS FLYING TO MY FACE AND I PANICKED—WHAT THE FUCK WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!”

Even a butterfly that sneaks in from the window makes him jump on his feet. It was cute the first two times it happened, but seeing how he keeps on throwing random things—your phone, included—to keep the bugs away, you probably should start adding another house rule.

Speaking about rules, they’re pretty basic. It’s settled that you’ll both do your cleaning separately. No borrowing things without permission, no spending too much time in the bathroom because although he doesn’t need to go to the toilet, Donghyuck enjoys drawing himself a warm bubble bath for hours, as he takes a sip of his ‘red wine’. And you’re fine with him bringing girls over to your place as long as he does his midnight snacking in his own room. You were against it before but then you figure that you’re going to have Mark in your room from time-to-time (your date night is cheaper this way) so you really don’t have the right to forbid him.

But man, if only you could take back your words.

Because when Donghyuck said his ladies surely enjoyed it when he drank from them, you didn’t think that they would enjoy it this much. And you didn’t think that drinking blood from a human equals having sex with them all night long.

The sound of “Aah, yes fuck me just like that,” and “Bite me again, Lee Donghyuck, I want you to bite me as hard as you fuck me,” can be heard coming endlessly from his bedroom whenever he brings a girl—sometimes even two, for God’s sake—over. You have to plug your AirPods into your ears, blast the volume to the maximum until you can literally feel your ears going deaf while pulling a pillow over your head. And even then you still can hear them. Your apartment has excellent sound-proofed walls so your neighbors don’t really hear the loud screeches they’re making, but for you who sleeps in the room just across the living room? A living hell.

Fortunately, it doesn’t happen every day. It doesn’t happen every week, even, since he always keeps some stocks of blood in the fridge.

“Did you take this blood from those girls?” You grimaced one night, as you opened your refrigerator to slide in your pudding leftover and noticed three huge bottles of red wine completely filled up to the brim.

He laughed, waving a hand. “Of course not, stupid. How could I even do that in the first place? I bought some blood bags from the hospital, obviously.” He was sitting on the couch before but when he delivered his next line, he suddenly stood behind you, lips hovering dangerously close to your ear. “And just in case you’re wondering,” you could feel his smirk grazing your earlobe. “I only drink directly when I want to have sex.”

The heat was spreading almost immediately to your cheeks so you hid it by throwing a punch to his stomach, which he easily dodged. “Still,” you complained, “There’s blood in my fridge.”

“Hey, I never complain when you keep your celery juice in there.” He scrunched his nose in disgust. “I don’t eat or drink human foods, but who the fuck drinks celery juice?”

***

Donghyuck is also exceptionally talkative, you’ve learned along the way. It’s nice to have someone to fill the silence, moving from one random topic to another, never letting an awkward pause hang for too long. But he can also be exceptionally annoying when you have some papers to do and he’s bothering you because he’s bored out of his mind. He’ll start pestering you with questions—unimportant questions—like, “If you only have one eye, are you blinking or winking?” Or “Why is it that when you are sleeping it's called drool but when you are awake it's called spit?” And the stupidest of them all, “Why did Superman wear his briefs on the outside of his tights? This question intrigues me.”

And you’ll eventually start to lose it, throw a pillow to his face and yell, “GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”

But by the end of the day, it’s really fun to have him around. Not just because you can secretly enjoy the sight of him coming out of your shared bathroom with only a towel hanging low around his hips, but also because he’s a vampire and you can spend your time doing actual research about it.

“So,” you began one day after the sun has set and he crawled out of his room with the biggest bird's nest on his head. You had a romance novel on your lap, your fingers running through the pages. “Are you like an actual vampire or are you the romanticized, somewhat gay vampire they usually depict in books?”

“Well, I’ve never been with a man but I don’t really oppose the idea.” He took a seat beside you on the couch, laying his feet on the coffee table. You kind of just stare at him, not exactly judging his words, just… bewildered.

He noticed the look on your face. “When you’ve lived for a century, you gotta learn how to keep things interesting, even if that means having a dick in my mouth.”

“That’s…” You swallowed. “Not exactly something I want to imagine.”

“You should, though. Try picturing me with your boyfriend Mark for a sec. Don’t we look hot together?” You had to look away when he wiggled his eyebrows at you. You just had to.

“So, these vampire books you said you read,” he went back to the previous topic after cackling for a whole ten seconds at the flustered look on your face. “How do they depict us exactly?”

“You’ve never read one?”

“Have you ever read any books about humans written by vampires?”

“Fair point. Well, it said that vampires couldn’t see themselves in the mirror.”

“Myth,” he replied, leaning his head against the couch. “I can see myself in the mirror and I like seeing myself just as much as you do whenever I come out of the bathroom.”

You almost blurt out the cinnamon cookie you just ate. “Excuse me?!” You cough, eyes starting to get a little teary. “Who said I like looking at you?”

“You don’t?” The way his eyes twinkled made you a little bit weak. A smirk grew apparent on his face. “You sure about that?”

You cleared your throat, flipping another page of your book. “Next question,” you continued, ignoring the soft laugh he emitted. “Do garlic, holy water, and silver scare you?”

“They don’t scare me,” he clicked his tongue, vexed by the way you composed your words. “I just don’t like them.”

“Right, so that’s a yes. Do you have to be invited in to be able to enter someone’s home?”

He tightened his jaw, quietly murmured, “Yes.”

“Can you read someone’s thoughts?”

“No, but I can tell how they’re feeling through their heartbeat.” His eyes were boring into yours, lips curving upward. “Like you, for example. I can tell that whenever I’m around you, your heartbeat runs just a little bit faster.”

You glanced away, rubbing your nose. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Ah,” he showcased his perfect marbled teeth as he grinned knowingly. “Just like that. Your heartbeat is increasing again. Are you lying to me, milady?”

“You’re freaking annoying, you know that?”

“It’s part of my charm.”

“Speaking of that,” you immediately said, knowing it was the perfect chance to avert his attention to another topic. “Can you charm someone?”

“With these looks?” He gestured to his entire body. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” But when you started scowling at him, he added, “But if you’re talking about mind compulsion, yes, I am able to do that. I can erase and alter people’s memories, even controlling them only by making eye contact.”

“That sounds pretty convenient.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like doing it.” He shrugged, staring at the ceiling with droopy eyes. “Hypnotizing them to get what I want just doesn’t sit right with me. I want to feel a connection, you know?”

“So doing one night stands with vampire groupies is the perfect way to earn that connection, I suppose?”

He tilted his head, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “You really know how to attack someone’s pride, huh?”

“Part of my charm,” you mimic him with a nod. “Okay, next question. Can you die with a wooden stake piercing your heart?”

He rolled his eyes. “Everybody dies with a stake in—what is this, an interrogation?”

“Do churches—”

“Okay, Sweetheart.” He closed your book, smiling at you though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I think that’s enough. My turn.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, not really pleased with the way he just suddenly changed the direction of your conversation. “What do you want to know?” You indulged him anyway.

He tilted his head, propping his elbow on his thigh, fingers tapping against his cheek as he rested his chin on his palm. Gazing at you intensely, he asked, “Are you a virgin?”

It didn’t take even a split second for you to blush. “T-that’s—What kind of question is that—”

“Ah, so you are.” His smile grew a bit larger, but you weren’t sure whether he was amused, aroused, or just excited to mock you about it. “Is that why you’ve been staring at me a lot lately? Because you’re curious?”

“For the last time,” you emphasized, though your heart was hammering against your ribcages. “I wasn’t looking at you. I never—”

“You’re adorable when you lie,” he snickered, a lopsided smile painting his face. “Your heartbeat sounds like you just did a marathon. Are you okay?”

You threw your book at him, successfully wiping the smirk on his goddamn perfect face, and raced back to your own room.

“Ah, she’s really cute.” Was the last thing you heard him say before you slammed your bedroom door behind you.

***

For a vampire, Donghyuck’s presence is as bright as the sun, always managing to lift your mood whenever you’re too stressed about your college assignments or too exhausted from your part-time job. Of course, he’s also the cause of your stress more often than not, but whenever you get into a fight with him—usually because he’s so disorganized and you’re too obsessive to keep everything in order—it doesn’t last long and ends up with him making you the best dinner you’ve ever had to compensate, even when he’s not the one at fault.

Donghyuck doesn’t consume human food but he makes the best cuisine you’ve ever tasted in your life. And also the sight of him wearing your pink apron while humming to a Michael Jackson’s song with his bangs tied to the side using your hairclip is really, really something to behold—which is weird because that obviously doesn’t scream sexy in any way, or masculine even, but it makes your stomach do somersaults most delightfully.

“Dinner is served, Milady,” he says, laying down a plate of Spaghetti Aglio e Olio in front of you, making you gawk at the sight. “And it’s special because it contains a lot of garlic—seriously, like a lot. I had to put some gloves on and everything.”

“You’re an angel.” You nearly cry and it’s not an exaggeration. “I can’t believe you did this all for me.”

“Well, I haven’t really thanked you for covering my rent last month so…”

“It’s fine, you can pay me back later.” You take a hold of your fork, already wetting your lips in anticipation, and waste not a second longer before you dig in. When the cheese melts inside your mouth, you almost moan in joy. “Oh my God, this is so good. I love you.”

He chuckles, suddenly standing behind you, leaning forward so he’s next to your ear. “Yeah? How much?”

You raise your silver spoon in the air and he immediately leaps to the other side of the kitchen, startled and scared out of his mind. “Hey, that’s not nice! I thought we’ve talked about this!”

Rolling your eyes at him, you take another spoonful of it. “Man, you should really make a job out of this,” you comment. He only cooks whenever he feels sorry for you for going through a hard day—whether it was because of him or something else—but if that’s what it takes to have this magnificent dish entering your mouth, you don’t mind suffering more often.

“I really should, huh?” He takes a seat on the kitchen counter, his legs dangling a few inches in the air. “I’m really running low on money.”

“I thought vampires were supposed to be rich and like, noble.”

“You’re confusing us with Aristocrats.” He grieves. “Do you think I can get a night shift at a restaurant downtown?”

“Oh, I actually know a place. I’ll take you there tomorrow.”

“Like on a date?”

You almost drop your fork. “Why do you have to make everything weird?”

His cheeky grin is contagious but you’ve become a master of handling your expression. “I just like seeing you blush,” he confesses. “Have I told you how cute you are?”

“Today? Not yet,” you mutter as you munch on your food. “Yesterday? Approximately two hundred and thirty-five times.”

“Then I’ll try to break another record today.” He throws you a wink.

“Shut up and let me eat in peace, please.”

***

“Donghyuck-ah.”

“Yes, baby?”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop posting a goddamn selfie every ten minutes!” You almost throw your phone to his face but since it’ll be a waste, you decide to throw your shoe instead. “I didn’t teach you how to use Instagram for this!”

Donghyuck easily dodges every single thing you’re throwing at him. “Didn’t you tell me to promote my cooking skill? That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“How does this—” You show your phone’s screen to him, almost smacking him on the face with how fast and hard you’re doing it. You slide your thumb over his Instagram feeds, showing more than fifty different pictures of his close-up face and he just made that account two days ago. “—promote your cooking skill?!”

“But, look,” he guides you, clasping his hand to yours so you’re both holding your phone. He taps from one picture to another. “This is me holding a spatula. This is me boiling water and this is me pouring barbecue sauce—”

“Oh my God.” You almost yank every hair out of your head—or out of his head. “I follow more than four hundred people and all I can see is your damn selfies!”

“Correction, my damn cute selfies.” He pecks your cheek. “You’re welcome, babe.”

But all jokes aside, it actually works. His adorable selfies—no matter how bad you hate to admit it—are attracting more followers each day that by the time a week has passed by, he has gained more followers than you (and you’ve had your account for three years, shame on you).

And on the following two months, he gets his first endorsement deal.

“I can’t believe this,” you say, gaping as you stare over his shoulder to look at his phone’s screen, shamelessly reading his direct messages. He’s getting an offer to become a brand ambassador for this little bakery with a cover photo of a lady with chubby cheeks baking cupcakes. “I can’t believe there are people crazy enough to hire you.”

“Hey, privacy!” He immediately stands up from the couch, covering his screen with his palm. “I could’ve been sending nudes!”

“You’re sending nudes?”

“Well, not my nudes.” He rolls his eyes.

“How is that any better?!”

“Look, I’m busy. I got a gig.” He grins proudly. “I’m on my way to becoming a celebrity, babe. Do you want my autograph now before it’s too late? I could sign your bra if you want. I mean, I’m totally down if you want me to sign your tits, but if you ever think that could be awkward—”

You smack his head with a spatula.

***

It’s your first date night after nearly half a year of not contacting Mark due to him going overseas for student exchange, and you’re nervous for various reasons.

First, you haven’t told Mark you’ve been sharing a place with a guy.

Second, you certainly haven’t told him that this guy is a vampire.

Third, you absolutely in any way cannot tell him that you’ve been secretly crushing on this guy while your boyfriend was away studying.

And last but not least, you know that if anything happens tonight, whether it ends up with you fighting with Mark or finally losing your virginity to him, Donghyuck can hear every single thing.

So you barge into his room, hand laying on the front of his bedroom door as you push it open. “Donghyuck-ah.”

Like always, he’s laying idly on his bed, head almost dangling on the edge of it with his phone in his hands. “Yes, baby?”

You sigh, rubbing your temple. “How many times should I tell you? Don’t call me that.”

“You’re not my baby anymore?” He fakes a loud gasp. “I am shocked.”

“Mark is coming over tonight.”

His movements stop abruptly. “I didn’t realize you were still with him.”

“Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be? He’s been nothing but sweet to me.”

His eyes lose the mischievous spark he usually displays in them. “And yet, you keep drooling over my body. Can’t say I’m not hurt.”

“I never—” You exhale loudly, throwing your head back. “I’m not going to have this argument again. He’s coming over tonight to have dinner—”

“But you’re a shitty cook.”

“By dinner, I mean take-outs,” you admit your defeat. “Anyway, I came here to ask you a favor.”

“Sweetheart,” he calls, turning over to his stomach so he can face you without having to see you upside down. “I know I said I wanted to make things interesting, but having a threesome with you and Mark? So suddenly like this? Don’t you think it’s gonna be a little awkward between us? I barely know the dude. You should at least tell me what kind of person he is, whether he likes action movies or romantic ones, whether he blames someone else when he farts—I need to know him before I have his dick in my mouth.”

Talking to him gives you headaches, you should’ve really come prepared. “Are you done?”

“Do you still want me to continue? Okay, well—”

“Shut up, please for the love of God, shut up.” You should take your leave before he starts yapping again. “Look, that super hearing thing you do? Can you turn it off just for one night?”

“Sure thing, click,” he says, snapping his fingers near his ear. “Done. Now I’m deaf.”

You flatly stare at him. “I’m serious.”

“Whaaaaat? I can’t heaaaaar youuuu.”

“Hyuck!”

He groans loudly, rolling his eyes. “Well, it’s not like my ears have on-and-off buttons I can just switch, okay? What do you want from me?”

He’s right, there’s nothing you can do. “Then, can you leave the apartment for the night?”

He opens his mouth wide, hand going to his chest. “You’re kicking me out from my own apartment? This is heresy!”

“Donghyuck-ah, please!” Great, now you’re stomping your feet like a child. “I just really need some privacy for tonight.”

“Oh, you’re gonna get laid, aren’t you?” He raves mockingly, but his eyes are somewhat bitter. “Seriously? With that guy? I think you could do so much better, Sweetheart.”

Vexed, you jeer back, “Yeah? And who do you have in mind? You?”

You’re not sure whether it’s your words or the way you say them because his eyes suddenly turn darker, almost glowering at you but it only happens for a second or two so you’re not sure if you even see that clearly.

“Well, it’s not my business, is it?” He casually chirps, smiling at you again though something still feels off. “Don’t worry, I won’t eavesdrop on you two. I have a lot of kinks but voyeurism isn’t one of those. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

“You…” Something feels really off with the way he’s acting. It’s like he’s visibly upset but trying to act nonchalant about it. “You’re sure?”

“You have my words.”

“Okay then.” Whatever it is, you figure you can deal with that later. “Well, I’m gonna take a shower.”

As you shut the door behind you, uneasiness starts to fill your chest.

***

Your date with Mark is going well. It’s going so well, even, that you end up lying on your bed, perfectly naked, lips swollen from his kisses, with him hovering on top of you, both breathless and speechless.

And unfortunately for you, also clueless.

He has a packet of condoms in his hand, and no matter how embarrassing it is for you, you already have your legs spread on the bed, waiting for him to… well, do whatever it is he’s supposed to do. Perhaps it’s okay for you to be clueless about sex because guys usually take the lead, right?

Wrong.

“Okay, wait, let me just—” Mark’s fingers are shaking due to anxiety. His poor, innocent mind cannot handle being so painfully turned-on and awkwardly embarrassed at the same time. Your boyfriend has always been awkward with literally everything, which kind of makes him adorable but it does not come as cute—not in the slightest—when he’s doing the exact opposite of what’s he’s supposed to do. Somewhere deep in his mind, he probably knows that he’s supposed to tear apart the packet sexily with his teeth, put the condom on within seconds, and thrust into you as painlessly as possible. But in reality, what’s currently happening is he tries to catch the condom that flew out in the air after he managed to tear the packet apart with his shaky fingers. He then progresses to try putting on the condom for approximately fifteen minutes while flinching several times when he accidentally slaps the elastic band against his cock.

The whole thing is a fucking disaster (no pun intended) and all the passion, desire, and arousal that you once felt swirling in your stomach vanish in an instant. And when you thought things couldn’t get any worse, it does, because being a virgin himself, Mark doesn’t really know where to, for the lack of better words, put it in.

“Mark?”

“Y-yeah?”

“That’s my asshole.”

So with a reassuring (fake) smile, you lay a hand on his chest and gently push him backward, trying not to wince in chagrin when you suggest, “Maybe we should stop and try again some other time?”

You two dress back into your clothes in silence and after you escort him to your front door, Mark tries to kiss you at the same time you’re leaning in for a friendly hug so it ends up with him knocking his teeth against your forehead.

When he’s gone, you close the front door with a sigh, pressing your spine against the wooden surface as you soothe the pain on your temple away with your fingertips. It doesn’t take long before Donghyuck peeks his head from behind his door. Noticing you’re alone, he steps into the living room, leaning against the wall just a couple of meters away from where you’re standing.

“So,” he begins, acting casual, “How was the date with—” He suddenly bursts out laughing, one hand holding his stomach as he nearly tumbles down to the floor, cackling like a mad man. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have eavesdropped but man, did he really put it in the wrong hole? Oh God, this shit is just beyond me, man.”

With your shoulders slumped forward, you walk back into your room, trying to gather back the pieces of dignity you have left.

***

“You know what I should do?” Donghyuck asks with a game controller in his hand. To stop him from making fun of you and your terrible incident with your boyfriend, you’ve borrowed a PlayStation from your cousin. Even though he claimed that he despised technology, Donghyuck is actually brilliant when he puts his mind to it. It doesn’t take more than two hours for him to master the game, already adapting to every button of the controller, even manages to land a few high scores in the last ten minutes. He used to prefer to live in the old school way, but that soon changed after your influence.

“Pray to God for forgiveness so He won’t send you to hell?” You offer, as you take a seat next to him on the carpeted floor, crossing your legs, eyes staring idly at the screen.

“Cute, but no.” He clicks some buttons aggressively, trying to reach yet another high score. “I should become a historian. I mean, I’ve seen things happened with my own eyes—the first world war, the second world war, the birth of Jesus.” He sneaks a glance, but seeing no reaction coming from you, he juts out his lower lip in disappointment. “It’s cruel that you don’t indulge me with my jokes these days.”

“Oh, so you want me to respond? I thought you just liked hearing yourself talk.”

“Heeeeeey,” he hisses, leering at you. “I know you’re hurt that your boyfriend tried to butt-fuck you but don’t throw this all on me.”

Oh my God. “Right, then let’s try this.” You have no choice but to please him this way before he destroys whatever is left of your pride. You do a quick search on your phone, throwing a random question from what you found in the article. “Who led our country in 1950?”

“Easy. The guy with the bald head. No, wait, is it the skinny one with the huge mole on his neck?”

“Name, Hyuck. I need a name.” You exhale in exasperation.

“Oh, I got it! The one with the annoying high-pitched voice!”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?”

“Well, how the hell am I supposed to remember shits that happened seventy years ago?”

You give him a look, eyes staring at him lifelessly. “You’re right, you should totally apply for the job. You’ll nail it.”

***

“I can’t believe this.”

“Saying that multiple times won’t really change anything, Sweetheart.”

“I can’t believe this,” you repeat, this time while standing up from the couch, slamming your fashion magazine down to the table. “I can’t believe our air conditioner broke when it’s nearly thirty degrees outside! Aren’t you hot?!”

“Am I hot—” He snorts, flipping a page of his novel. Yes, it is actually quite bizarre that he spends his spare time reading. “What kind of question is that? Of course, I’m hot. Haven’t you seen the number of girls I brought into this place?”

“Ugh, God!” You plop back into your seat, throwing your head back in vexation. “What are you even reading?”

“That vampire book you talked about yesterday.”

“Which one?”

“The one that’s interesting.”

“Oh, Interview with The Vampire?”

“No.” The way he rolls his eyes as if he’s disgusted with your guess is beyond you. “Twilight.”

“Oh my God, stay away from me.”

“What—this is actually good!”

“These vampires sparkle under the sun—aren’t you, at the very least, offended? Because I’m livid and I’m human.”

“That’s what makes it interesting, actually,” he retorts, eyes moving back-and-forth as he reads through a passage. “They’re so different than us in real life, so it’s like seeing through a new perspective. I’m Team Jacob, by the way.”

“Good Lord.” You palm the side of your face. “You’re more than a hundred years-old but you have the taste of a teenage girl going through puberty. I’m ashamed of knowing you.”

“You’re just cranky because of the weather.”

“I’m literally dying.” You can feel sweat drenching your back, all the way to your shirt and you just took a shower twenty minutes ago. “You’re lucky you’re immune to temperature changes.”

“Then wanna sit on my lap?”

Your ears must be playing tricks on you. “Excuse me?”

Donghyuck sighs, closing his book and throws it away to the side. Turning to you, he repeats slowly, dragging out every syllable. “Do. you. want. to. sit. on. my. lap?”

You send him a blank stare, annoyed. “I heard you, asshole. I’m not an idiot. I’m just shocked at your offer. You’re really going all out in harassing me these days, aren’t you?”

“What—” He throws his hands in the air, exasperated. “I’m a vampire, remember? I have cold skin. Here,” he takes one of your hands, sliding it down his shirt as if it’s nothing, and presses it against his stomach. “Can you feel it?”

All the blood rushes to your face, making you feel lightheaded but also conscious of how his skin feels under your palm. It is cold, though not as cold as he’d made a big deal out of it. It’s like the room temperature during the spring season, at most. But compared to how sizzling it is right now, his skin is nice to the touch, relaxing even.

But all that thought just goes straight out of the window when he shifts on his seat and you can feel his abs muscles contracting.

“Whoa,” he stops, looking at you. “Are you okay? Your heartbeat is insane.”

You smack him on the head and try to suffocate him with your cushion. It doesn’t work since he doesn’t breathe, but at least it can stop him from seeing how red your face is turning.

But when another day passes by and your landlord is still taking his sweet time trying to find a cheap handyman to repair your AC, you decide to take on his offer. You know it’s weird for roommates to cuddle but, as you try to reason within yourself, you will be sitting on the-sexiest-man-you’ve-ever-witnessed-with-your-eyes’ lap, your back pressing against his (hopefully) bare chest, and snuggle close until your body heat is no longer screaming at you in agony. You don’t really see any problem with this. After all, you have been imagining how it would feel to sit on his lap every time he does that manspreading thing on your couch.

So really, what’s there to lose?

“Okay,” you begin, standing in front of him in an already awkward position. “So, how can we do this without being weird about it?”

Donghyuck tilts his face up, leaning his back against the couch, phone in his hand. “Do what?”

“Do…” You fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “You know, what you offered yesterday.”

“Hmm?” He raises his eyebrow in question, but the way one side of his lips is curving upward betrays his act. “I forgot. What exactly did I offer to do?”

“You’re seriously going to make me say this out loud?”

“Baby, I’m clueless.” His smirk grows wider, his voice filled with allure. “Please. Enlighten me.”

He’s toying with you, that’s for sure. And no matter how much you want to feel those arms around you, there’s no way you’re gonna let him degrade you like this. “Fine, then forget it,” you sulk, turning around on your heels with your scarlet cheeks puffed out but Donghyuck laughs in the most innocent way when he’s clearly nothing like that in reality. Calling your name in a sing-song voice, he circles his fingers around your wrist and tugs you back until you tumble down to his lap.

“You’re never honest,” he says, his velvety voice suddenly only a whisper away. His arms are tied securely around your waist, pulling you close until you can do nothing but lay your back against his chest. “But you’re cute so I forgive you.”

You can’t form a word, too busy trying to compose yourself. You can’t hear his heartbeat—since he’s the creature of the undead, obviously—but you assume with the proximity you’re being, you would’ve definitely heard it if he had one.

You didn’t notice it before but now that you’re sitting on his lap, your palm pressed against his thigh for stability you realize that he’s wearing black ripped jeans with holes that are oh so terribly distracting. If you dare to move your finger, you’ll be able to trace the smooth skin at the inner part of his thigh.

You gulp hard.

You can hear him snickering behind you. “Thinking about something dirty?”

You almost swallowed your own tongue. “What—no!” Flapping your hands in panic, you almost fall from his lap but his fast reflex won’t let you, as he embraces you tighter, making you fall back to his chest with a small oof.

“Relax, I’m just messing with you,” he chuckles lowly, his lips grazing against your earlobe. “This is nice. We should do this more often. You fit perfectly in my arms.” He says his line with sincerity with no trace of humor or teasing in it, which effectively make you curl your toes in bashfulness.

“You’re gonna have a heart attack if you keep your heart rate going like that, Sweetheart,” he titters.

“Yeah, well,” you try to push him away by pushing your palm against his cheek. “Unlike you, I don’t really spend my time snuggling with the opposite sex, so of course I’m nervous.”

“You’re sure it’s not because of me?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I’d most likely have a bigger reaction if Mark was the one holding me instead.”

The way he suddenly goes stiff intrigues you, but you don’t dwell on it. “Is that so?” He simply retorts back, tone suddenly becoming cold and it makes you feel uneasy.

“So, uhh…” Your breathing tatters when he becomes mute, only the sound of the ticking clock on the wall can be heard. “Wanna watch a movie?”

He only hums, placing his chin on top of your head. Since he’s always so talkative, it gets really tense when he’s quiet. “Did I offend you or something?” You question.

“I don’t know, did you?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I knew.”

“Then let’s just leave it at that.” Seeing how you keep fumbling with the remote in your hand, he snatches it away and proceeds to switch the channels. “We’re watching Twilight.”

“Nooooooo, not again!”

But his arm, as he raises it high in the air, is longer than yours so you can’t steal back the remote no matter how hard you try. And as you jump up and down, shifting back and forth on his lap, Donghyuck warns, “I don’t know if you’re doing this on purpose, but if you keep doing that, I’m gonna get a hard-on.”

You immediately stay still, hands tucked neatly on your lap, chest thundering. “You—Why—” You shake your head, flushed. “How can you say things like that?”

“Things like what?”

“Sexual things like that.” The more you reveal your thoughts, the harder you blush. “Don’t you have any shame?”

“What, I can’t be honest?” He snorts. “I didn’t mean to harass you or anything. Just letting you know in advance. It’s completely a guy thing.”

“No, it’s not just that. You always flirt with me—calling me baby, telling me how I look cute all the time when you don’t even mean it—“

You’re interrupted with a loud sigh accompanied by an impatient groan. “Turn around, look at me,” he orders and his tone is irrefutable. When you turn slightly, making eye contact, Donghyuck has his eyebrows furrowed, almost glaring at you. “I know you’re gullible, and I know you’re dense when it comes to things like this but I swear to God, if you don’t start taking a hint, I’m going to have to push you against the wall and kiss you to prove my point.”

You’re dizzy and nauseous, and your stomach is flipping like crazy and you’re conflicted between believing him or laughing at him because although he looks dead serious right now, you can’t help but wonder what if, after you give in to your feelings, he sends you that signature cheeky grin of his to reveal he’s just joking all along? You’re not even brave enough to imagine, even when the vivid image of him pushing you against the wall, his knee slipping between your legs while he brings your wrists over your head, holding them still with one hand is enough to keep you awake for hours.

So you decide to take the easy path. “Okay.”

He blinks. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You shrug, acting casual. It’s really a miracle that you don’t stutter when you deliver the next line. “You told me to take a hint, that’s what I’m doing.”

He raises one of his eyebrows, confused. “Just like that? You’re not gonna say anything more? Or do anything about it?”

“Nope.”

Slowly, there’s a shift in his expression. He shakes his head, tongue protruding against the inside of his cheek both irked and amused. “You’re really something.”

Surprisingly enough, he leaves it at that. Though it’s somehow uncomfortable, you follow his lead and just lock your eyes to your tv screen as he chooses his movie.

You have no interest in watching Twilight—absolutely nothing, zilch, zip, nada!—so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when your eyelids start to become heavy in the first thirteen minutes of the show. You would’ve fallen asleep way sooner though, if you weren’t too distracted with the way he laid his hand on your thigh, sometimes unconsciously rubbing or squeezing it with his palm when he got a little bit bored with the scene, making your breath hitched in your throat.

The room’s temperature is still hot even when it’s in the middle of the night, successfully making your bangs stick to your temple but Donghyuck is quietly humming something to himself. Soft, melodious sound is resonating from his chest directly to your ear and you begin to drift away, floating into your dreamland.

***

“Hey, wake up. It’s almost morning.”

Your bleary eyes are greeted with the dim light of the room. The TV in front of you has already been switched off so the only thing that can be heard in your apartment is the buzzing sound coming from your fridge and the faint ticking clock.

“What time is it?” You rub your eyes, not aware that you’re still sitting on his lap, with your spine leaning against his chest. It’s until you feel his arms loosening around your waist that you begin to think, oh fuck, what have I done?

You immediately jump off his lap, tripping over your feet but manage to hold your balance by placing a hand on the coffee table. “Why didn’t you wake me?” You screech, face aflame. “You kept holding me in that position all night?”

“Yeah.” He stretches his arms above his head, cracking his neck. “I wanted to wait until you wake up by yourself, but you know, the sun is about to rise.”

You’re still pretty much flabbergasted by the whole thing. “You really should’ve woken me up.”

“Well, you seemed like you were having the best sleep you’ve ever had.” He stares at you with a twinkle in his eyes. “Was it that good being in my arms?”

You’re about to explode. “Okay, wow, look what time it is.” You try to look at your wrist and mentally slap yourself harder when you realize you’re not wearing a goddamn watch. “A-anyway, you really should go back to your room before it’s too late.”

He shakes his head, chuckling at your stupid antics as he stands up from the couch. He ruffles your hair once, making a mess out of your strands before he heads back to his room. As he slides open his door, he spares you a glance over his shoulder. “Hey.”

“What?”

“You kept calling my name in your sleep. What were you dreaming about?”

Whether it’s true or he’s just flirting with you to get your reaction, you don’t want to know. “Just go to your room!”

***

A few moments after the sun sinks below the horizon, Donghyuck comes out from his room with bleary eyes and his shoulders slumped forward.

“Good morning, Princess,” you joke, your hands busy mixing coffee powder, sugar, and milk to make your own version of Dalgona coffee. Donghyuck scratches the back of his head, his eyes are barely open as he heads to the kitchen, not even sparing you a glance. When he opens the fridge, he groans loudly, noticing that he forgot to restock his red wine. He slams the door with a loud huff, drags his body to the dining table, and sits down with his cheek pressed against the table. Seeing how you’re not paying him any attention, he groans again, louder and whinier this time.

“Okay, what?” You ask, leaning your back against the counter, a cup of coffee in your hand.

“I’m thirsty,” he grumbles, jutting out his lower lip.

“Then drink.”

“I don’t have any money to buy even a bag of blood. Why do they have to make it so fucking expensive?” He pouts. “I mean, I can always steal one but I’m scared of being caught.”

“Scared of being caught? You, with your superhuman speed and strength?”

“Well, they have those security cameras installed all over the place! I don’t want to get arrested or worse, go viral!” You resist the temptation to roll your eyes at his nonsense. “These fucking technologies, man, I swear to God, they’ll be the death of me someday.”

“Then just go outside. Our town is filled with walking blood bags.”

He groans again, now pressing his forehead against the table. “Man, the effort I have to make just to survive. I’m so done with drinking blood from slutty girls. They’re bitter.” He sticks out his tongue at the memory.

“Yeah, why is that? Why do you only drink from them?”

“Because they’re the only ones who’ll agree in a heartbeat.” His voice is muffled as his lips are brushing against the surface. “Also the sex isn’t too bad if you can ignore how annoyingly loud they are.”

“Trust me, I’ve tried.” You grimace at the flashback. It really has been a while since he brought one of them back to his room and you were ecstatic about it, knowing you were the only girl he had been giving his attention to. “Why don’t you just compel someone to give their blood? You can erase their memories too after you’re done.”

“I’ve told you, I don’t like doing that. It makes me feel like a monster.”

It’s cute, you suppose, the way he tries his best to defy his nature. “Then…” You tap your fingers against the mug, somehow feeling uneasy. “Why don’t you try being in a relationship with someone? I’m sure they’ll be willing to give you their blood if they like you that way.”

“Yeah? With who?”

“I don’t know, like…” Your cheeks grow hot, bringing your face down to hide your eyes behind your bangs. “Maybe just someone you like.”

“Are you volunteering?”

The way he suddenly has you backed against the counter, trapping you inside his arms, and whispers seductively with his lips almost grazing your own make you jump on your feet, your cup slipping off your fingers, crashing to pieces when it hits the marbled floor.

“Careful!” Donghyuck holds you by the waist, stopping you just a split second away from stepping on the broken glasses. You realize your hands are fisting against the back of his shirt, embracing him for support without knowing. You pull away immediately, clearing your throat.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you,” he says, letting you go. “I mean I did, but not like this.”

You sigh. “It’s okay, just step away. I need to clean this up.” He tries to help but you won’t let him, because having him in such proximity is going to blind your senses, unable to function properly. Even just thinking about the way his strong arm fits the curve of your waist already makes you lose focus that you end up cutting your finger with a shard of glass.

He catches the little surprised yelp that escapes your lips and immediately bends down to check on you. “See, this is why I told you to let me clean up instead,” he complains, carrying you to the sink and drenches your finger with running water. “Let me see.” With a hold around your wrist, you can barely do anything but to let him examine your cut thoroughly. “Well, it’s not deep but it’s… still…”

Noticing how he trails off, you look up to check on his face seeing how his eyes are now glowing a bit brighter, his lips parted as if in awe from the way droplets of blood seep from your fingertip, trickling all the way down to your palm.

“Hyuck…?”

His eyes are drifting back and forth from your face to your cut and you know where this is going but when he brings your palm closer to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick the blood off your skin, you nearly collapse to the floor.

“Hyuck—” You hiss, cheeks reddening as you try to retract your hand but his hold is firm on your wrist. He licks his way up before he brings your fingertip inside his mouth. Donghyuck has his eyes closed, a moan almost falls from his lip when the coppery taste taints his tongue. He sucks on the wound, wanting to taste more, to rip your skin apart with his teeth and—

“Hyuck!”

He blinks awake, shocked when he sees your face painted with fear. His fangs are drawn out but he immediately retracts them back before you get a detailed look, his face flushed as he takes a step back.

“S-sorry—” He looks away, rubbing his nape with shaky fingers. “I didn’t mean—shit I really have to go—I have to drink—” and when you blink your eyes, he’s vanished from your sight.

With your heart thundering inside your ribcages, you lean back against the kitchen counter again, your legs trembling under you.

That was close. So fucking close.

There’s a fear growing inside you but it’s not from the memory of him with his fangs extended like the true monster that he was. You’re not scared of him, you’re scared of yourself because you know you want him, you want him in any way possible. You want him to belong to you, to be with you, to be desperate for your touch, your blood, your presence, your everything, just as much as you are about him.

You bury your face in your palms. I am so fucked.

***

Hours turn into days and days turn into months, and before you know it, it has been a year since he moved into your apartment. The friendship that blooms between you feels nice and you want to keep it that way but it’s getting hard when he keeps on bringing random girls in skimpy dresses back to his room. You used to be furious by how loud they were being, but now you’re pretty much angry just simply by imagining him being with someone else. And it doesn’t even have to be sexual—just picturing him bonding with another person, even when it’s not as strong as what you two have, manages to irk you so much.

The thoughts of him keep revolving in your head no matter how hard you try to push them away. It even puts your relationship with Mark in jeopardy, as you can barely pay him any attention. It doesn’t surprise you at all when he decides to break things off, saying something cliche like, “I think we’re better off as friends,” and “It’s not you, it’s me,” which in normal circumstances will piss the hell out of you but when that happens, you simply just reply, “You’re right. Let’s be friends.” And there are no hard feelings—no feelings at all, even, which is weird considering you were only a month away from having your first anniversary with him.

Now that Mark is out of the picture, you can finally bring all of your attention back to Donghyuck. But the more you think about it, the more you’re not sure about the whole thing. He’s a vampire, isn’t he? What future do you expect to have with him? Let’s say you date him and things go well with your relationship, and then what? He’s going to stay young with that cute, boyish look on his face and you’re gonna be all wrinkled and gross, how are you ever going to be able to stand that? What if he wants someone prettier than you? What if he gets bored?

Or maybe it’s just lust you’re feeling. You don’t love him, you’re just physically attracted to him. That’s right. Strictly physical.

And yet, as you see him dressed up in a white buttoned-up shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, running a hand through his hair and pushing back his bangs to showcase his temple, you thought: fuck.

And when he smiles at you, as he places a plate filled with the exact dish he knows you love down to the dining table, saying, “I went ahead and did some research about you. I was about to buy you some presents but I thought it would feel more personal if I cooked something for you so,” and stopping to gaze at you with tender eyes before he adds, “Happy birthday, Sweetheart.” You thought: Jesus fucking Christ, just marry me already.

Donghyuck goes all the way with everything, from placing scented candles on the table, playing soft music in the background, even escorting you to your seat, pulling your chair back for you, and placing down a napkin on your lap. It’s too much for your poor brain to comprehend, and your chest is suffocating from all the feelings swirling behind it and Donghyuck looks so beautiful—almost goddamn ethereal even—in that shirt, in that hairstyle, in the dim light of the room.

“You’re not hungry?” He asks when a few seconds have passed by and you haven’t munched at your food like a caveman—because that’s what you usually do.

“I’m—you—” You splutter, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves before you try again. “You look nice.”

You can already tell that he’s about to say something along the line of “But baby, I always look nice.” So when he just softly smiles back and thanks you about it, telling how you look just as nice when you know you look like a storm just hit you, you’re pretty much lost for words.

“You seem exhausted,” he comments, frowning in concern. “Hard day at work?”

You can’t trust yourself that you won’t start rambling nonsense again while answering his question so you decide to just reply to him with a timid nod.

“Why are you so nervous?” He laughs, eyes turning crescents. “Your heartbeat is going through the roof again.”

You loathe yourself for being so transparent. “I’m nervous because you’re suddenly being so nice. I can’t help but think you have a hidden agenda or something.” That’s a lie. A complete lie.

And you’re sure he knows it. “And what if I do?” He asks, raising an eyebrow seductively. “What kind of a hidden agenda do you think I have for you?”

Why is it so fucking hot in here?! “I don’t know…” You start fiddling with the fingers you have on your lap. “Drinking my blood, maybe?”

His expression is a mystery to you, even when his smirk seems familiar. “And would you be okay if that’s true?”

You can’t answer but fortunately for you, Donghyuck lets out a chuckle, telling you he was making a lame joke. You force yourself to laugh but it sounds like a wheeze so you stop before it gets even more humiliating.

Donghyuck walks to your side with a bottle of wine in his hands, sliding glass to your side as he says, “Wine, milady? It’s not blood, I swear.” And you believe him because this time, the liquid seems more ruby than crimson.

“You really need to relax,” he comments as he leans his back against the edge of the table, raising the glass of his usual red wine in the air before he clanks it gently against yours. “To the cutest, sweetest roommate in the world.”

You immediately take a sip to hide the blush that creeps up your face, flinching when the burning, mildly bitter flavor hits your tongue. You’ve never drunk any alcohol in your life and although this first experience feels rather unpleasant, you keep chugging more of it down your system.

“Does it taste good?” He asks, secretly smiling to himself as he witnesses how fast you’re drinking the whole glass down. You shake your head in response, which earns another laugh from him.

You’re not sure whether it’s because it’s your first time drinking alcohol or you just have a low tolerance when it comes to it, but you can feel yourself getting both lightheaded and drowsy. Donghyuck who takes notice of that, move you to the couch so you can rest more comfortably. “I better take this away,” he says, circling his lean fingers around your wine glass but you push him away.

“No,” you say, eyes a little bit unfocused. “I’m fine. Pour me some more.”

“Don’t you think it’s enough?”

“Just another glass, Hyuck, don’t be a bitch about it.”

He’s taken aback but collects his composure within seconds. “All right, just don’t blame me for it,” he states as he pours you another one.

“I have a question for you, Lee Donghyuck,” you coo as he takes a seat on the coffee table, facing you. “Does everyone’s blood taste the same to you?”

“It differs, actually,” he answers, taking a sip of his own drink. “But only faintly. I’m not that picky about it.”

“And how does it feel having your blood sucked by a vampire?”

“You’re asking the wrong guy.” He sways his head from side-to-side in amusement. “I mean, of course, I can have my blood drunk by another vampire but I’m not that kinky. I know some vampires who are into that kind of shit though.”

“Well, by the sound of your girls screaming like they were giving birth, it’s either very painful or very…” The sight of him staring at you intently, taking in your features, nearly throws you off tracks. “Pleasurable.”

There’s an awkward pause and silence hangs around to fill the space before Donghyuck speaks again. “How come you’re asking me these questions?”

“Because that’s all I’ve been thinking about,” you confess, not sure why, but you’re feeling very brave at the moment. “And it’s not just about you drinking my blood, but more about you entirely. You know what I mean?”

Donghyuck places his glass down on the table, leaning towards you. “Not sure, but I’m all ears.”

“I… just…” It’s getting harder to speak when he’s so close, you can start locating every tiny mole he has on his face and his neck. The small one near his Adam’s apple is the one that distracts you the most. “I just think we’re compatible with each other, you know? And I’ve never enjoyed someone’s company this much before. You’re funny, you’re smart, and you’re both endearing and freaking annoying at the same time—how is that possible?”

But Donghyuck isn’t laughing. His eyes are deep and dark, raking over your profiles with so much intensity but when he swats the bangs out of your eyes, his touch is tender. “What else? Tell me more.”

You lean closer to his touch like how a kitten would, making him gulp slightly at the sight. “I get so vexed whenever you spend your time with anyone else. I know I have no right to be jealous since we’re just friends but I can’t help it.” You sigh, rubbing the side of your face with your palm. “It’s so fucking tiring to think about you this much when I can’t have you.”

You’re too lost in your own thoughts that when Donghyuck reaches out a hand to touch your face, you jump in surprise, spilling wine all over your blouse. “Shit, this is my favorite shirt,” you whine, sliding your glass down to the table. “Can you get me some tissues?”

But what he does is lifting your body with both of his arms and carry you to the bathroom. You cling onto him with a yelp, trying to keep yourself away from falling even though you’re sure he’s perfectly able to hold your weight.

Donghyuck places you down on the bathroom counter, your fingers dangling at the edge of your sink. Sitting up straight, you begin to feel conscious of your surroundings. “What are you doing?”

“It’s your favorite shirt, right? We need to wash the stain before it sticks,” He explains, his fingers going to your collar. You nearly stop breathing when he asks for permission to undress you, “May I?”

You swallow hard before you weakly nod.

He takes time unbuttoning your shirt one by one when you know he can rip it apart easily with one finger. He’s so gentle, his touches are paper-thin but whenever his icy fingertips make slight contact with your skin, it sends electricity to every inch of your body.

When he manages to untangle the clothing from your body, you’re only left in your bra and your black satin lace cami top. You can tell he tries to be polite by not staring at what you’re wearing, and instead immediately drags your blouse to the sink, drenching it with water.

“Where did you place the detergent again?” He asks, reaching up over your head to check on the top cabinet and he’s so fucking close that you can see the movement of his Adam’s apple as he speaks. And it’s really, really tempting to just lean over and—

Donghyuck flinches when he feels you sinking your face in the crook of his neck, mapping your lips on his skin, breathing in his scent. You don’t know how vampires usually smell like but Donghyuck reminds you of summer even when you’re not sure how summer smells like. It’s funny how you’re not making sense, even in your own thoughts.

Pushing you away by the shoulders, Donghyuck’s eyes gleam in the way you’ve never seen before. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I…” You can’t form a word—you can’t even form a thought as you’re too busy staring at his lips, how smooth they look, how thrilling they must feel against your own. And maybe he’s thinking the same thing about yours because when you lean in for a taste, he meets you halfway.

It’s warm and it doesn’t make any sense, because the rest of his body is icy cold but as you press your mouth against his, all you can think about is how his lips are warm and soft, so fucking soft and delightful and maybe it’s just your mind playing tricks on you but you don’t care.

You breathe heavily through your nose, yanking at the collar of his shirt so he’s closer to you than he’s ever been, and you tilt your head slightly, angling your face so you can meld your lips deeper against his. He instinctively reacts by holding the side of your face, fingers slipping between your strands, tips curling around your nape.

He kisses better than any man you’ve ever been with and you’re sure he’s better than any man you’ll ever date in the future because Donghyuck knows what he’s doing, even when he’s caught by surprise.

Sliding your hand up to his chest, you can tell how his skin stands in contrast to the warmth of his mouth and it makes you shiver, your breathing rags, and you moan into his mouth, tracing your tongue along the puncture of his fang that’s still retracted, almost as normal as a human’s but something inside you tells you it’s not going to stay that long if you continue doing this.

So anticipation builds inside you because there’s absolutely no way you’re going to stop what you’re doing.

But Donghyuck is surprisingly more chivalrous than he looks. He pulls away, giving you a few inches of space to break the attraction. It’s not enough, your mind is still heavily clouded by the thoughts of him, so you reach up to kiss him again, catching his lower lip between yours.

“No, wait,” he says, voice sounding breathy though he doesn’t breathe. He circles his fingers around your wrists, holding them down against the counter so you won’t be able to move.

“Let me just kiss you,” you plead, eyes dazed and desperate. “Please.”

His chuckles are soft, almost inaudible. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not, I swear.” It’s horribly embarrassing how you’re itching for his touch as if losing physical contact with him causes you madness. “Hold up your fingers and ask me to count them. I’ll guess it right, trust me, so can you just—” You try to move your hand to pull him close but his grip around your wrist is stronger than your strength. “Hyuck—”

“Look, I want this just as much as you do—” He hisses when you’re using your knee this time, sliding it between his legs, giving him the friction that he needs. “Fuck. I probably want this more than you do, but—” He loses control for a split second, re-attaching his mouth to yours with so much fervor, tongues desperate to taste one another. The way you whimper against him makes him groan, his hand sliding down your thigh and spreading your legs apart so he can fit himself between them.

It’s when his fangs suddenly puncture your lips, drawing a hint of blood and making you cry out in surprise that he wakes up from his reverie, pushing himself away immediately to the other side of the room. You almost topple forward from suddenly losing him to lean on but manage to keep your balance by gripping at the edge of the counter.

Donghyuck turns around, facing the bathroom tiles as he leans one hand against the wall while his other one covers his mouth.

“Hyuck—”

“Sorry, let me just—“ His shoulders are shaking, trying his best to calm himself and the thirst that overwhelmed him earlier. “They’ll go back in a minute.”

“No.” You jump down from the counter, moving to his spot with careful steps. “Let me see them.”

He shakes his head, still not turning around to face you.

“I want to see them, Hyuck.” You place your hand on his shoulder, caressing him gently until he finally submits to your touch.

You only ever saw him with his fangs retracted twice in your life but even then, it was always too dark and too fast for you to see him properly. Now, you can take your time.

He’s so fascinating.

His eyes, as they peer into you in concern and uncertainty that he might hurt you, are glowing brightly in the color of topaz and they’re strikingly beautiful that you can barely look at anywhere else. His fangs are larger but he can still hide them behind his lips if needed. It’s the way they become frighteningly sharp that sends a shiver down your spine but you brave yourself enough to reach out to him.

“C-can I touch…?” You hesitantly ask, and he looks conflicted by the question but soon gives you a timid nod. He parts his mouth slightly so you can trace your fingertip along his cuspid, and you flinch as it feels like a knife splitting your skin.

He hastily pulls back, terrified at the thought of hurting you. “You’re okay?”

“Do it with me.”

“What?”

You take a deep breath, your heartbeat going crazy. “I want you to drink from me.”

“You’re crazy—”

“Please.” You lay a hand on his chest, tilting your head to the side, exposing your neck to his eyes. “Just try, Hyuck…”

The glimmer in his eyes shows that he’s yearning to fulfill your wish but he cups your cheek again, telling you, “You’re gonna regret this in the morning.”

“I won’t.” Your fingers find a home in his waves. “I’ve been wanting this for a long time so—”

A high-pitched yelp escapes your lips and you have to muffle the rest of your scream by mouthing against the fabric that covers his shoulder because Donghyuck doesn’t waste any second after he heard your confession. His canines are prickling against the skin under your jaw, just between the earlobe and the collarbone. And it hurts when he sinks them—so, so badly—that tears begin to form almost instantly behind your closed lids. Donghyuck suddenly lets you go, his eyes widening as he gazes at the way blood is gushing through his bite mark. “Fuck,” he says, “How can you taste so—” and he dives in again, moaning rather loudly when the warmth of your blood fills his mouth, swallowing a big gulp each time. “So fucking good,” he murmurs in pleasure, tightening his hold desperately around your waist as if you’re the thread that keeps him alive.

The pain only stays for a few seconds before a rush of endorphin seeps into your skin, running through your veins and pumping euphoria to every inch of your body. You slowly relax against his chest, eyes becoming half-lidded as you go into a trance, heartbeat slowing. You’ve never done any methamphetamine in your life but you imagine that it must feel somewhat like this.

“Hyuck…” You breathe out, feeling a little bit lightheaded, the strap of your camisole falling off your shoulder. You can feel your knees slowly giving out under your weight. “I… I can’t stand…”

He yanks himself away for a second, only to lift you so you can wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck. He carries you back to the counter, placing you down in the same spot as before, your legs dangling in the air.

“Better?” He asks, rubbing comforting circles with his thumb along your cheekbone. You nod, eyes going down to focus on his fangs again. His lips are painted with your blood, with some of it trickling down his chin. He’s a monster and he definitely looks like one, but his eyes are tender and his hands are silky smooth on your skin.

He slides his hand down to the hem of your camisole, fingers rubbing against the fabric as he peppers soft kisses along your jawline. “Is this one your favorite too?”

“Huh?” You’re having the hardest time trying to focus. “Oh… No, not really.”

“Well, then,” his lips are still sucking bruises on your neck when he rips both of your camisole and your bra with one flick of his hand, exposing your bare chest to the air, making you jump in surprise.

“Hyuck—” You’re silenced with another kiss, and it’s so consuming, so deep, so wild that you nearly sob against his mouth. The taste of copper makes you frown in discomfort but the knot starts to loosen when his tongue darts out to meet you in a messy kiss.

His hand is going down to your breast, cupping the side while he runs his thumb along your sensitive bud, making you rake your nails against his back in response. His other hand is tracing the curve of your waist, going down to your hips before he tears your skirt away, tossing the clothing somewhere across the room, following your previous ones.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he says, hooking his hands at the back of your knees before he pulls your legs forward, pressing his hardness against the wetness of your lingerie. You whine, circling your legs around his waist for stability, and murmurs, “No, don’t stop, please,” against his ear.

It’s not fair that he’s still fully clothed so you frantically toy with the buttons of his shirt, pushing the fabric off his shoulders with so much eagerness before you roam your lips to every inch of his exposed skin.

Donghyuck licks along the wound of his previous bite, emitting a sinful moan from the back of his throat when your blood sparks ecstasy in his mouth. His fingers are tentatively rubbing you over your lingerie and you beg with your lips muffled by the skin of his chest, “Take it off, just take it off, please—“

You can feel a tiny laugh reverberating from his chest over your desperation but you don’t care. You really are that desperate.

Donghyuck is more than willing to comply, sliding the lingerie down your thighs and you help him push it off your legs completely. You guide his palm to your heat, his fingers immediately sliding between your folds, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit. His mouth finds his way down the valley of your breasts and goes lower and lower until he has his head between your thighs.

You nibble at your lip in anticipation when he presses open-mouthed kisses on the inner part of your thigh. Donghyuck makes sure he has his eyes fixed on yours when he dips his fangs into your supple skin, making you quiver with the sensation.

“God, Hyuck.” You’re going insane, you can feel it. “I want you. I want you in me. I want you all over me.”

And he probably is too because he’s abandoning all of his self-control at once. The way he sucks bruises on your skin, lapping at the trail of blood that painted your body is almost animalistic, raw passion mixed with lust and uncontrollable desire. He unbuckles his belt in hurry, pushing his jeans and boxers down just low enough to release himself from its confines. You can feel his tip grazing against your clit before he glides his length down your folds, pulling you by the legs so you’re almost laying down on the counter, half of your back pressed against the mirror behind you.

His eyes are hooded but they speak reassurance when they bore into yours. “I’ll be gentle.”

Now that it finally sinks you’re going to do this for the first time, your lustful desire gradually changes into jitters. You nod, permitting him to proceed.

The feeling of him stretching you little by little is absolutely painful and he can tell that too, hissing, “Fuck, you’re so tight,” as his eyebrows adjoin in the middle. You can barely stand the pain and you’re about to stop him by reaching out a hand, but he grabs your wrist and sinks his teeth to your skin.

Another jolt of pain sends tremors all over your body but just like before, another rush of endorphin hits you like a wave, gradually reducing your pain until you’re in haze again, blissful even, but also even more aroused than before, hungry for his touch.

“You’re okay?” He asks, licking the blood that trails down your arm. “Are you still in pain?”

You’re breathing hard but you can feel your heartbeat slowing. “Stop talking and fuck me already.”

His glowing eyes are gazing down at you with desire, intense with lust. He runs his tongue along his lower lip once, smirking as he says, “Yes, Ma’am.”

Even when he said he was going to be gentle with you, he’s doing the exact opposite. Or maybe he is going gentle, which only makes you wonder how wild can he be when he’s not holding back. The thought of him losing control of his mind as he pounds into you senselessly makes you shudder, tightening yourself around his length unconciously.

“My God.” The feeling of your heat enveloping him—squeezing around him—makes him drop his temple on your shoulder, dissolving him into a groaning mess. “You are driving me insane, do you know that?”

“Don’t hold back,” you hold his face, caressing his sharp jawline with trembling fingers. “Just do what you want.”

“But I’ll break you.” Although his eyes seem like he’s about to grant your wish.

You let your tongue slide up from his chin to his lower lip, stopping just to whisper, “Then break me apart, I don’t care,” before you crush his mouth with yours again.

Donghyuck’s thrust is both deep and hard, knocking your breath with each pound as he holds you by your hips, nails clawing into the skin. Maybe it’s the trace of endorphin left in your body that heightened all your senses while at the same time washing all your pain away because everything feels so unbelievably good. His touches, his kisses, his thrusts, and the way he moves his hips faster and faster until you can’t properly breathe—everything feels amazing.

And his voice—God, his voice—the way he moans and grunts against your ear, or when he sprouts expletives while he buries his face deep in the crook of your neck, lips scorching against your skin, makes you think fuck why did I waste a fucking year doing nothing when I can have him like—

You’re interrupted from finishing your thought when Donghyuck suddenly pulls out of you, making you whimper from the loss, and turns you around, forcing you to land on your feet again, your stomach pressed against the edge of the counter. You place both hands on the marbled surface as he pulls your hips closer to him, pressing his hardness against your behind as he presses his chest to your spine.

“Come here, look,” he says, holding you by the chin and lifts your face so you can gaze directly into the mirror. He shifts his hand, now holding back your bangs so your eyes are reflected perfectly. “Look how beautiful you are,” he purrs near your ear, the tip of his nose brushing against your jawline.

It’s both embarrassing and arousing to see yourself being held domineeringly by him, the curves of your body fit his perfectly even from behind. Your lips are bruised and swollen, blood smears messily around your neck, your wrist, your thigh even on your hips from the way he trailed his coated fingers along the skin.

Donghyuck raises two of his blood-smeared fingers to your lips, mixing your lipstick with your own blood before he slowly drags his fingers away, painting blurred lines of crimson to your cheek. He sighs at the sight, eyes half-lidded as they glow brighter. “If I’m a monster,” he says, voice low and breathy, “Then you’re a fucking goddess.”

You shudder and avert your gaze, ashamed of how sultry you look in the mirror and how sinful his gaze is as they rake over your body. He presses close, completing the dip of your spine with his chest like a matching puzzle. His fingers curl around the front of your neck, forcing you to look at your reflection once more as he licks a stripe up your wound. “We look good together, don’t you think?”

You’re breathing hard, chest heaving up and down with each breath. “Hyuck…” You crave for him to fill you again like before. “Please, just—"

He glides his hand down between your legs, teasing you with small touches but strong and fast enough to make you quiver. “So sensitive too,” he chuckles, nipping slightly at your earlobe. “You’re so fucking cute.”

Before you can retort anything back, he pushes the head of his cock into your heat again, agonizingly slowly at first but slams the rest of it with one snap of his hips.

“I’ve thought about this—about us—I think about you a lot,” he confesses, with low groans interrupting his lines. “You’re really driving me insane with that face of yours, your lips, your voice—whenever you call my name, whenever you pout after losing an argument—the way you secretly stare at me wherever I go—”

“I don’t—” You gasp, thighs trembling under your weight and he wraps an arm along your stomach, holding you still while he pushes in deeper. “I never—”

“And the way you lie just like now, with that blush creeping on your face.” He chuckles, kissing the middle of your shoulder blades. “Fuck, you’re so cute—so fucking cute that it pisses me off whenever you talk about Mark when we both know he can’t satisfy you the way I do—he doesn’t understand you— doesn’t get your stupid jokes—” He begins to fall out of rhythm, hips moving faster with each thrust. “He doesn’t deserve you—I deserve you.”

You catch the sight of your reflection, noticing how he sometimes throws his head back in pleasure, his strong hands gripping on the sides of your waist as he rolls his hips again and again, thrusting into you until you can only cry out his name and nothing more. It’s too obscene, too erotic for your eyes to witness, and when he locks his gaze with yours in the mirror, you nearly faint.

“H-Hyuck—” You reach out a hand back, trying to find his for support but he holds your wrist against your spine, pumping into you with strong strokes, leaving you with no options other than pressing the side of your face against the marble countertop, mouth parting in a silent scream.

The sounds of his groans and your whimpers echo through the bathroom walls, along with the sound of your skin meeting his. His teeth prickling against your shoulder, his eyes going to see how you look underneath him in the mirror before he sinks his fangs deep into you, making various sounds of pleasure as he drinks your blood.

The sensation of his thrust, his fingers slightly choking you as he holds you by your neck, and the amount of endorphin that washes over you soon drives you to your release and he embraces you closer, feeling every shake that you emit directly with his body. And maybe it’s from the loss of blood or everything else combined, but your vision starts to blur and suddenly your world turns black.

***

When you wake up, you’re laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling you’ve seen a million times with your eyes barely open. You’re still pretty much in a haze, not sure if you’re still floating inside your dream or back in reality. It’s until your door opens with a click that you can start to differentiate.

“Ah, you’re awake.” He peeks inside through the door holding your favorite mug, already dressed back in his favorite black tee and matching jeans. “I was wondering when you’d wake up. Can I come in?”

He walks in without needing an answer and, weirdly, he doesn’t seem nervous or awkward when the sight of him already makes you blush fervently and your heart races fast. A flashback comes in like an unstoppable train and you almost reach out a hand to your neck, wanting to know if his bite mark is still there.

The way he acts is so natural that you begin to wonder whether all that happened was simply your imagination. But when you try to move your body, jolts of pain runs like electricity to your bones, making you freeze instantly. It feels like somebody is trying to crack your head open, tearing your body apart and you fall back to the bed, weak and exhausted.

“You all right?” He immediately rushes to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed, checking on your face. “You lost a lot of blood, so I wouldn’t move too much if I were you. I brought you some coconut water, here,” he places the mug down on your nightstand. “And some supplements too. They’ll help with your blood loss. I’ll cook some fish and eggs for dinner later.”

You can only nod, too tired to even speak. His eyes begin to soften, his fingers reaching out to caress the strands of your hair. “I guess I went a bit overboard, I’m sorry.”

“A bit…?” You croak out.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats but can’t help a smile forming on his face. “I tried so hard not to, but you were so cute.” He leans closer, his lips hovering above yours but he rethinks his decision before he closes the gap, and moves to press a gentle kiss on your forehead instead. “You should get more sleep,” he murmurs against your skin. “Call me when you need help. I’ll be right outside.”

And he doesn’t spare you a glance as he stands up from the bed, but the way he trips on his feet once makes you realize that oh, maybe he’s embarrassed about all this too.

“Hyuck.”

He stops in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder as he lays a hand against your doorframe. “Yeah?”

“Where does this leave us?”

His face slightly goes stern. Turning over to face you, he questions further. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you pause, wetting your lip in anxiety. “Do you want us to pretend it didn’t happen?”

His eyes darken, somehow seem a bit upset. “Do you?”

“I… Uhh…” The way your heart is beating so fast makes you feel nauseous. “I don’t, but—”

“Then don’t suggest something like that,” he sighs, walking back to your bed again. He kneels on the floor so you’re eye-to-eye, squeezing your hand with his larger one. “Don’t scare me, okay? I finally have you where I want you.”

You look away, attempting to hide your flustered face. “But then, what are we now?”

“I don’t care what we are. I just want us to keep doing this.”

“Doing what, sex? You drinking my blood?”

“No, idiot.” He rolls his eyes. “I mean, yes, of course, that too. Plenty of that. But what I meant was I want to continue to have this kind of relationship with you. Us living together, making fun of each other, having dinners together, even spend hours watching re-runs of your stupid tv shows—”

“They’re not stupid.”

“They’re stupid. I only watch them because of you. You are my favorite show.” He winks, breaking the tension and you blurt out laughing, shoving him playfully by the shoulder. But when your giggle starts to fade, Donghyuck leans in to cup your cheek, smiling softly. “I just want to spend more time with you, as long as you’d let me. So can we have that? Please?”

“I…” You’re so captivated by his features, especially the shape of his lips. “I guess…”

“You guess?” He scrunches up his nose. “You’re playing hard to get again? Seriously? After all the begging you did in the bathroom?” Seeing you blush only makes him want to tease you harder. “What was it that you said? God, Hyuck, I want you. I want you in me. I want you all over me—“

“Okay, shut up, geez!” You slap a hand against his mouth, steam practically coming out of your ears. “Yes, we can have that. I’d… love to have that actually.”

Kissing your inner palm, he lovingly smiles against your skin, appreciating your honesty. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, Sweetheart?”

***

Read the sequel here

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shreddedparchment · 4 years ago

Text

A Wife for Thor Pt.22

Obstacle

04/08/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 5,413

Warnings: angst, jealousy, marital problems, pregnancy, allusions to cheating (no actual infidelity), fluff, smug Loki

A/N: It took me SO long to get this chapter down. I wrote literally like a few sentence a day for a bit and then finally got some good chunks out. This has been a tough week but this chapter makes it all worth it! I hope y’all think so too. A lot of good stuff happens in this chapter, as in stuff that I really like. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work!

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The shuffle around the palace as Loki escorts you through the front gate is overwhelming.

It’s safe to say that judging by your reception when you’d shown up in Heimdall’s tower located on the far side of the city, the Asgardians are happy to see you.

Armod is also happy to see you and you rush to get into your car before you can get swarmed by eager Asgardians.

Loki joins you in the back seat and lets Armod gush over his happiness at seeing you back home and healthy. And pregnant! More than anything, the people are happy to see the swell of your belly.

Many of the women are crying as you step out of the car at the palace gate, the men cheering enthusiastically.

Some of the children have found flower petals to throw into the air and it rains white, pink, and yellow blossoms.

It's the small waving hand of a little girl with ebony floor length braids that tugs too hard on your heartstrings and you give in to your impulse.

“Armod, stop the car, I’d like to greet the people,” you ask, swayed further by the eager faces of the young girl's siblings who flank her..

As much as being Queen had come unexpectedly and as much work as it's been, loving the Asgardians has never been a challenge and you've missed your people.

Their kindness has always been the best part of your day.

Armod gives Loki a quick look but stops the car just as the palace gates are opening.

He pulls over to the side, putting it in park before hurrying out to open the door for you.

“Are you sure?” Loki checks, reaching over to place his hand over yours on the seat.

“Of course. I owe them this. I’ve been gone for so long.”

“If you’d rather go in, we can find an excuse.”

“Loki,” you laugh once. “Is something wrong? Is there a reason I shouldn’t get out of the car?”

“Not at all,” he assures you. “I just don’t want you to force yourself. I know this pregnancy hasn’t exactly been easy on you.”

“I’m okay. And I’m sure they wanna see the proof that they have an heir coming. Really, Loki, I don't mind.”

Loki sighs, but gets out quickly to move around and take Armod’s place and offer you his arm.

Taking it, you pull yourself out, and after a long moment to steady yourself on your feet, you turn to face your people.

A large number of Valkyries suddenly pour from the open palace gateway and you wait as they line themselves in front of the gathering crowd. A simple border of control to keep you safe.

The people don’t seem threatened by the guard either and they continue to cheer until you raise your hand and call them to silence.

It only takes a few seconds for the noise to die, leaving only the ambient sounds of the city, wind, and the shuffling feet as more Asgardians and visiting humans gather.

“Hello,” you begin, voice a little shaky from nerves. “I’m...I-I’d like to start by first apologizing for disappearing. And then for being gone so long.”

The people watch and listen attentively, hanging on your every word. As your hands drop down to your belly to stroke it anxiously out of habit, their eyes are drawn to it and they seem to rattle with excitement again.

Looking down at your tummy, you contemplate the little one inside and the kicks he gave you earlier in the day.

He's really in there.

“It’s been a long journey to do what’s been expected of me. Difficult, actually. Giving you and Thor what we’ve all been hoping for is a privilege though. It's important that you all know that.

"However, I'm not as strong as all of you. I'm not as resilient. As soon as I knew that I was expecting the future prince or princess of New Asgard, I knew that I had to take precautions. I had to stop thinking like your Queen and just for a while, think like a mom. I told Thor that I wanted to take some time away from my duties as Queen if only to make sure that my pregnancy would take. In order to ensure the health of this baby.

“Im so very sorry if I caused any of you any worry or pain by disappearing. That was never my intention and it makes me...I can only say that I'm sorry. I hope that you all can understand why I left. The The thing is I’m happy to say that my efforts weren't wasted, clearly."

There's a rumble of gentle laughter that flows through the crowd and breaks the slightly somber mood your speech is causing. You give them a smile and they smile back.

"And while that does make me very happy, it has not been easy to carry this baby. I have been sick and weak but after some rest I'm now feeling stronger than ever. With the constant and careful care provided by Doctors Wilson and Alric, I’m finally able to resume my duties as Queen with the knowledge that this baby is strong and healthy and my body can take the strain of bringing him-or her into this world.

“I’m so happy to be back among my people, my home. You all are my family and it fills me with such joy to know that I have made you all proud.”

The people cheer, more and more gathering along the street so that it’s now clogged and impassable. Others have taken to peeking out of windows from the surrounding buildings or finding balconies and roofs to stand on to get a better look at you.

Their excitement changes to trepidation at the look on your face as you realize that now is the perfect time to address what happened yesterday.

They’re so attuned to your mood that they quiet down again and wait nervously for you to speak.

"On a more serious note, I know that many of you must have been shocked by the lies spewed onto the pages of the Watch. And I'd like to be as clear as I possibly can about my absence from the palace.

"I only left because of the concern I had for our future prince or princess. There was absolutely no other reason for my absence in our great city. While it is true that something did happen between Thor, Jane, and myself--well, I will only say that now I know that His Majesty the King of Asgard is wholly devoted to me and our family, just as he has been from the moment he accepted me as his wife.

"Not that I ever doubted it," you lie. No one needs to know how bad things are and it is true that now you know Thor is devoted to you.

So, it's not completely a lie.

"As a people," you continue. "We'll need to be vigilant about the people we choose to trust to come into our homes. We will be more cautious now, and as a woman…"

You swallow hard, thinking about the words itching on the tip of your tongue to tumble forward and make your heart clear. Maybe it's not right to say it? Maybe it isn't the queenly thing to do?

You don't care.

"As a wife and a soon-to-be mother, I will say that Doctor Jane Foster is not welcome in my home. She has proven to be unworthy of the trust we placed in her and while her expertise is an invaluable commodity that I am sad to lose, I would rather have the second best than risk the stability of my family."

To your surprise, there are a flutter of approving nods and smiles, wives and husband's looking scandalized by the confirmation that something went down but clearly it was Thor that had Jane kicked out. A few cheers come but they quiet down quickly.

"My love for His Majesty is unwavering. As is his for me. No marriage can be without it's struggles but Thor and I are as united as we have ever been. Both in love, devotion, to each other and you, our people. Together we will strive to protect this kingdom to the best of our abilities and with this child, I hope we can begin to lay down proper roots for us so that everyone on Earth will know that New Asgard is here to stay."

The crowd cheers. It's deafening and your hands are trembling so terribly even clenched into fists they shake.

"LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!" someone shouts and the others fall into the chant as it's picked up by what sounds like everyone in the crowd.

A cool hand presses against the center of your back and you lean towards him as he whispers in your ear.

"That was beautifully done, Y/N," Loki admires. "Now come along. You need your rest."

You cradle your bump and the crowd cheers louder as you wave while Loki leads you back into the car.

As it pulls away from the curb, the Valkyrie turn to follow behind you. Faces full of stern pride. Their gleaming armor shining bright in the late afternoon sun.

The large wooden and steel reinforced gates of the palace close with a thundering clatter and you lean back, heart suddenly clenching painfully. Your stomach turns and you feel like you might throw up.

You shut your eyes and open the window allowing the cooling air to help drive your nausea away.

"Y/N? You alright?" Loki checks, putting his hand on your arm.

"I'm fine," you assure him, unwilling to open your eyes.

"Are you sure? Only, you're looking a little green."

That doesn't actually happen does it? Do people look green when they're gonna throw up?

You assume he's exaggerating, but as the last bit of the swirl in your belly passes, you look at him with fearful eyes.

"I'm nervous," you admit.

"To see Thor?"

"Mm," you nod.

"He's missed you. He will probably try and hug you. Might even kiss you."

"I don't know if I can handle that, Loki."

"You'll have to. The guards around the palace are sworn to secrecy about anything that happens in here, but with the amount of information that magazine was able to get we're pretty sure there's a mole amongst our number."

You look away from him, frowning because the last thing you want is to hug and kiss Thor.

Well, that is, you really want to do those things. Which is why you shouldn't. Not until you can be around him with some kind of rational thought and control over your feelings.

You need to get a grip and come to terms with the reality of your situation before you can let yourself love hum.

You have to protect yourself.

It turns out that you have nothing to worry about.

Estrid who had come before you with your things is there to greet you. A few others of the palace staff come to see you and you're welcome back with fondness.

Because you know you have to play the part, you look for him.

"His Majesty had a sudden summons from the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, my Queen. He apologizes for missing your arrival but he's had the small dining room filled with all of your favorites.

"When you are finished with dinner, he has asked that you wait for him in his study."

Estrid's tone tells you she's wary for you. She wants to make sure you're okay.

The disappointment you feel gives you away not only to yourself, but everyone there to see your face fall as you caress your belly.

"A blessing in disguise?" Loki suggests in your ear for just you, but the smile on his lips says he knows better.

"He'll be back before it gets too late, Your Majesty," Estrid assures you, trying to soothe your sadness. "He promised. There’s nothing more he wants than to see you."

"I know," you smile at her, then the others before you head for the dining room, your stomach grumbling in anticipation of the foods you know are waiting.

~~~~~~~~~~

Waiting is torture. You keep trying to read your book but your attention is pulled back to the door of Thor’s study every few seconds.

You groan, dropping the book onto the desk before throwing your head back with scrunched up eyes.

How is it possible to be desperate to see someone while also dreading it?

It feels like you'll die if you don't lay eyes on Thor but also like it'll tear you to shreds if you do. There's no winning here.

You gasp as the door opens and get to your feet in the same breath.

Thor's body is rising and falling heavily with his own labored breathing. He'd been running.

To get to you? No. You can't be swayed.

"I'm here."

His declaration is soft but heavy with meaning. More than just him announcing his arrival.

"Oh, aren't you a vision," he gushes.

"Hi," you whisper, only because you can't catch your breath.

He's wearing jeans, a plain black t-shirt stretched across his bulging chest. He's even more massive than you remember. Three months away has deprived you so fully that suddenly being in his presence leaves you hungry for him.

You want him so much.

"I've missed you, desperately," he confesses. "May I greet you properly?"

You frown, so undecided.

"Or not," Thor relents. "Forgive me, I just got caught up in the moment."

Why is this so hard?

You want to feel him.

"You can greet our baby properly," you give in.

A big part of you needs to feel him and this is the only way you can give in and feel like you're still doing your best to hold strong in your resolve to get some distance.

Thor’s eye lights up and quickly finds the swell of your tummy with recognition.

"Really?"

"I will never keep you from our baby, Thor. Even if I'm not ready for things to go back to normal between us just yet."

Thor takes a half step towards you and watches you carefully for any indication that you're not comfortable with his proximity.

You sigh, head tilted to the left slightly before you hold out your hand to him, beckoning him closer.

In three long strides Thor takes your hand and stops when he's only a foot away.

"Here," you gasp.

Your heart is in overdrive. Thor’s touch is doing things to your body. There's an initial rush of butterflies in your stomach and quickly you pull Thor’s hands to the spots where your baby is kicking in response.

Thor’s body freezes. He goes rigid. He even stops breathing.

For a moment you begin to worry that maybe you've broken him, until he suddenly drops to his knees.

He swallows hard, eyes pooling as he stares at the swell of your stomach as the baby continues to kick.

“They’re really in there,” he’s so choked up about it that his voice cracks around the words.

As he speaks, the baby kicks more.

Thor laughs but then leans in to kiss your stomach over the fabric of your dress.

“We really made her,” Thor gushes.

“Her?”

He looks up at you, confused for a second before he smiles wide, “Or him. It doesn’t matter. What matters is our baby is coming.”

Your heart swells, and you’re so happy that you could float away like a hot air balloon with the warmth flooding your limbs.

This is the moment you’d dreamt of. This is the moment that had been stolen from you by Jane and her lies. This is the moment that you and Thor had both been yearning for.

He’s so caught up in it, floating through the glow of this perfect moment that he presses his lips to your tummy again two more times before he’s rising, his hand hooked behind your neck as he meets your lips as he gets to his feet.

You’re so unprepared for it, so utterly lost in this sweet exchange between him and your baby that your lips pucker on their own.

He opens his eye and yours, already open, stare into his. He looks slightly shocked to find himself kissing you but he doesn’t stop.

Instead, his expression shifts into a pained look of desire. He pulls back, his hand dropping to grip your bicep.

“I would say that I’m sorry but I have been wanting to kiss you since the moment I left you three months ago.”

You say nothing, watching him, listening. You’re searching your soul to see if this is okay with you because it feels okay. Despite the sirens blaring in your mind about the restrictions you’d set for yourself when you’d decided to come back home, your body is telling you it needs this. Your heart is painfully aching at Thor’s touch.

You’ve missed it. You’ve missed him.

“Is this alright? I can go.”

The idea of him going now feels like the end of the world. Rationally, you know that isn’t an appropriate response to his offering to leave you be, especially when you know you asked him for space for specific reasons.

“No,” your hands grip the sides of his t-shirt tightly, holding him in place without any actual strength since compared to him, you’re as mighty as a little mouse.

You refuse to look up at him, despite the crumbling of your resolve.

“No, don’t go.”

It’s an almost involuntary shy response to your diminishing shame at losing all control after his touch. After one kiss. You should be disappointed in yourself. And part of you is. However, that part of you grows increasingly small as Thor gently takes hold of your chin and guides your gaze up until you can meet his.

“I’m sorry, cherub. I will try and be worthy of you again.”

“I know,” you admit, knowing how sorry he’s been from the moment he realized that he’d done something that hurt you badly. “I know you are.”

“Can I kiss you, cherub?”

His voice is so deep, so alluring and coaxing that you drop your gaze again, fixing it on his collarbone before slowly you nod.

His arm winds its way around your waist and he pulls you to him before dipping down and catching your lips with his again.

He pulls away after a second because the swell of your belly gets in the way, but he laughs and looks down at it.

The pleasant sound of his happiness gives you too much joy.

As you begin to smile, Thor reaches down to press one hand to the side of your stomach while he pulls you against him again and kisses you this time with more fervor.

The longer he has his lips pressed to yours, the more enthusiastic he gets until finally you’re breathless and you pull back but instead of pulling away, you wrap your arms around him and fist the back of his t-shirt,

You bury your face against his wide chest and Thor brings his hands back up to caress the sides of your face, his lips kissing the top of your head.

“I know I may not have a right to say this, but thank you for coming home. Thank you for coming back to me. I thought I’d lost you."

His arms grow a little tighter, his heart is in an absolute stampede.

You turn your head sideways so that you can listen to his heartbeat.

"This is what I'd wanted," you whimper, starting to be overcome with the emotion of being reunited with Thor and things falling into place more easily. "This is how I'd wanted us to share this moment."

Thor sighs heavily, giving you one more squeeze before he pushes you back a little so that he can look at you.

“I’m so sorry that I robbed you of that. I was a fool,” he nods, his eye intense as he stares into yours with wordless declarations piercing into you.

The memory of your speech with the people when you arrived pops into your head and now with Thor’s arms around you it all feels a little like an overreaction. The past three months feels like a distant nightmare.

Or does this feel like a dream?

“Thor,” you begin but Thor’s lips are on you again, drowning out your words.

“Oh, to hear you say my name,” he declares and kisses you again.

Your mouth opens for him and you absolutely melt against his chest as he nearly dips you in passion.

He pulls back again, “Is this real?”

He kisses you.

“You feel so good in my arms.”

He kisses you.

“Your skin is so…” but then he hums and kisses you.

He dips down and with his arms tight around your waist but also careful with the swell of your stomach, he lifts you so that you’re level with his eye.

“I love you, so much, my cherub. Thank you, thank you for coming home. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I stayed away,” you sigh. “I need to be strong without you, Thor. I was hurt but I never stopped loving you.”

His face goes through shame, understanding, and then elation.

In a burst of subdued anger and aggression for what he put you through, you reach up and grab his shoulder. You dig your fingers in against the taut muscle then reach up to pull one of his ears.

You’re clearly not hurting him but he allows you to move his head, understanding the need to express your anger even if you’re not doing any damage.

“Never do that to me again,” you growl. “Never say that you’ll leave me. Why would you say that? Even in passing? You were so damn sure.”

“No, Y/N, I wasn’t. The moment I saw you, I knew that I could never leave you. I’m sorry. I could never even think those thoughts again.”

“You better not, or I won’t come back next time. I’ll disappear and you’ll never see me again.”

Thor takes your threat for what it is. A promise. Truth.

He shakes his head as he leans forward to press his forehead to yours, shutting his eye.

“I swear,” he begins. “On my life.”

He keeps you there, hovering over the ground with your heads together for a few minutes before he slowly lowers you to the ground. You realize it’s because he wants to stroke your belly and you take a slight step back so that he can.

He smiles, happy. It reminds you of the look your people had when you’d arrived only a hundred times as possessive and joyful.

Again, your speech intrudes on your reunion and this time, you won’t let him distract you.

“Thor,” you coax, placing your hands over his where they rest on the sides of your stomach.

“Yes, my cherub?”

He’s excessive in the affection he puts in his voice but you know that he must be floating on cloud nine after what you both went through when you made him leave you at your house.

“I-I did something and I’m not sure if it was right of me to do it,” you watch his brow wrinkle and for a split second you almost lose yourself in the beauty of his face.

Has he always been this handsome?

“When I got back I kinda made a speech? Everyone was so happy to see me and to see me carrying our heir and I wanted to apologize to them for leaving and for making them worry. I wanted to share in their excitement for the baby and with that stupid tabloid having come out yesterday-”

“Right, the article,” there’s guilt in his voice despite there being no truth to the rumors it printed.

“I wanted to put their minds at ease and I...I did confirm that something happened with Jane but not what they were thinking.”

Thor’s expression hardens just a tad and he pulls backs towards a large armchair. He grabs your hand though and pulls you along with him until he can sit and then carefully attempts to offer you his lap, unsure if you’ll sit.

You do, because you’re tired and because you’re not eager to be away from him again. Now that you’re touching him, you’re not in a hurry to change that again.

“What did you say exactly?”

Swallowing hard, you lick your lips nervously, “Um...I told them the truth. Not exactly the truth, but enough of it that they’ll understand that Jane isn’t welcome here. I said that the only reason I left is for my health and the health of the baby, which is true. I didn’t want them to worry about us because even if we didn’t reconcile, I want us to be united for them at least.

“But I don’t trust Jane, Thor. Not after what she did. Not after how she treated me when you weren’t looking, and the people need to know that I will protect them from anyone, no matter who they are to you or me.”

Thor’s face grows pained as you speak, his arm wrapping around your waist as his other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You’re starting to realize that it’s going to be hard to get his hands off it, but that doesn’t seem like a terrible problem.

“I wish you had told me that she’d been rude to you,” Thor sighs, taking his hand off of his stomach to stroke your cheek. “If I had known-”

“She wasn’t rude to me Thor, she dismissed me. I wasn’t even worth acknowledging to her and now I know it’s because she was jealous and wanted you back because what? She saw what we had together and suddenly it was good enough for her?

“I was in her way. That’s all I was. Even if in the end she couldn’t go through with it whether it was because she felt guilty for doing this to us or for lying or for having second thoughts and knowing that she doesn’t want to be Queen or a mom, she’s a bad person to me. And I have every right to protect myself, my baby, and our marriage from her. She’s not welcome here Thor. I never want to see her again. Ever.”

He’s cradling you now, holding you close because the intensity with which you're telling him that Jane is not welcome in your home is transferring to him.

“And if you’d known, you wouldn’t have done anything, Thor. You’d probably have talked to her and asked her what was going on and she would have lied to you and you would have believed her.”

He doesn’t deny it. He does look like it hurts him to know that you know though. That’s enough for you.

“I think it took her lying and doing this to us to make you see what she’s capable of.”

Thor shuts his eye, resting his head against your chest as he wraps his arms around you again.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, Thor. But you weren’t the one who lied. I mean, you didn’t tell me what was happening, but you weren’t the reason that this happened. If Jane hadn’t lied-”

“But she did,” Thor says, his deep voice anguished. “And I failed to honor my vows. You are my Queen and I should have come to you the moment she told me she was pregnant.”

You both fall into silence as you reach over to stroke his bicep. His skin is so soft. Touching it gives you comfort in a way you weren’t aware you needed. The more you touch it the more you need to feel it.

A finger stroking his skin turns into two, then four, then your entire hand is running up under the sleeve of his t-shirt.

With the way his hand curls around your thigh, you know that both your bodies are responding to your touch. Both of you are heated but instead of giving into that because you aren’t ready for that yet, you lay your head on his shoulder and curl in closer to his chest.

Thor sighs heavily, wrapping you up in his arms as he cradles you close.

“Now we know better,” you whisper.

“Now I know what losing you will do to me,” Thor agrees. “I’ve missed you so much, cherub.”

You don’t respond. You’re too choked up to say anything without your voice cracking so both of you stay like that for a while.

The cocoon of Thor’s arms is toasty and from the exhaustion you’re feeling plus all of the emotions that have drained you, your eyes are heavy and difficult to keep open.

“What about you?”

Thor’s chest rumbles with a chuckle.

“We can talk more tomorrow, cherub. Sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy,” you lie.

“Very well, then. What about me?”

“You’re sleepy?” you look up at him, full of concern.

He chuckles again, “No, cherub. What were you asking?”

“Oh! I just wanted to know if you’re okay. What Jane did to you can’t have been easy. Despite what she did to us as a couple, she said she was pregnant. You’ve been wanting a baby for so long and she dangled that in front of you like the rat that she is. And then she wasn’t even pregnant?”

Thor’s arms constrict around you as he pulls you up towards him to kiss you.

It’s slow and full of emotion.

“Even after all of that, you’re still worried about me?”

“It took time,” you admit. “Once I wasn’t so angry and I thought about what Jane really did. I hate the idea that your heart broke over her lies. I can’t believe she ever loved you if she was willing to make you feel that way.”

Thor just stares at you, searching your eyes before he rubs his nose gently against your own. When he speaks, his voice is so low, so deep, an intimate whisper. It burrows into your chest and settles right there underneath your ribs and makes you breathless with missing him and desire.

“That’s why you’re my Queen, Y/N. And she is not.”

You’re not sure if it’s an Asgardian ability or if maybe it’s something specific to Thor, but he has a way of making you swoon.

“I missed you so much,” he confesses again, that whisper sinful. “Did you not miss me?”

You nod because you can’t speak. There’s a lump in your throat made of both sadness and want.

“Was your bed as frigid as mine was in your absence? Did you miss my breath on your neck as I did yours? Or the steady beat of your heart when you pressed your breast to my back as you held me while I slept?”

Fuck, he’s making this so impossible.

“I hate you so much,” you counter, but his lips stretch into a small knowing smile as you take a tight hold of the neck of his shirt and pull him up to meet your lips.

He exhales heavily into you, tasting you, relishing in every pulsating touch as both your hearts ache and yearn almost in disbelief as if both of you can’t believe that these wants, these needs are finally being met.

As he pulls back to tilt his head the other way, he takes hold of the sides of your face again, his lips grazing yours, “I love you.”

Before you can reply or yank him back into that torturous yet blissful kiss, a voice at the doorway clears their throat.

“Well, that was fast, what happened to keeping him at a distance?”

Loki’s voice pulls your gaze and you can feel your cheeks and neck burn at how easily it seems you’ve crumbled when finally face to face with Thor.

You frown at your brother-in-law, while Thor ignores his brother and leans up to press very non-chaste kisses to your neck, “I told you coming back was a bad idea.”

But Loki’s smile is blinding and with one chuckle he backs out of the room, shutting the door quietly as Thor turns you back to him so that he can get back to kissing you.

#king!thor x reader #thor x reader #arranged marriage au #royal au #a wife for thor #king!thor x reader fanfiction #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fic #king!thor x you #thor x reader fanfiction #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fic #thor x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #a wife for thor pt22

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recurring-polynya · 3 years ago

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Once again, I am thinking about the dubious claim that people make from time to time that Renji would have gotten better character development in the TYBW arc if Byakuya had died. The thing is, though, that Renji did get excellent character development in this arc, particularly with respect to his relationship to Byakuya, it was just very subtle and I want to talk about it.

So, the first thing I want to point out is that the captain-lieutenant relationships is one of the major themes of the TYBW. A lot of this is sort of weird and awkward, but this is perfect, actually, because captain-lieutenant relationships are, for the most part, weird and clunky and awkward. Take for example, the part that I always make fun of, where the captains are told not to go to bankai, and Hitsugaya, Komamura, Byakuya and Soi Fon immediately go to bankai-- but they all do this on the assumption that they are luring their opponent into a trap to see how this works, and that their lieutenant will somehow ??defeat them anyway?? (well, except Soi Fon who seems to think she can one-shot her Quincy). There’s Sasakibe’s funeral, where we find out that Yamamoto cared far more for him than we ever imagined. Kyouraku returns Nanao’s zanpakutou to her and stands behind her as she defeats an opponent he can't. Iba carries Komamura’s body off of the battlefield as he loses the last of his humanity. Isane struggles to keep her head above her grief because that’s the burden Unohana left her with. Rose avenging Kira. Hitsugaya and Matsumoto fighting and (sort of) dying together. The Zaraki-Yachiru thing. The Mayuri-Nemu thing. Momo and Shinji actually got to have a relatively normal one, which they each deserved, but at least they got to have normal one together. Anyway, that could be an entire essay, but as usual, I only want to talk about Renji and Byakuya.

Renji’s introduction as a character happens in stages. Initially, he sort of appears to be Byakuya’s sidekick-- he's here to do the dirty work during Rukia’s arrest, while Byakuya stands by and calls the shots, but even early on, it’s clear that Renji’s a little hung up on Byakuya. He’s trying to impress him, and gets more embarrassed and self-conscious as things go progressively pear-shaped. When Byakuya finally enters the action, Renji’s thought bubbles reveal that he’s watched Byakuya for a long time, that he knows all his moves. When we get the Renji backstory reveal a few issues later, we learn that Renji’s goal is to defeat Byakuya, which he seems to feel is necessary to seeing Rukia again, even though there has never been any sort of causal link revealed between these two things. Don’t get me wrong, if Young Academy Renji had tried to continue to be friends with Rukia, I think Byakuya would have kicked him out on his ass, but it’s clear that a lot of Renji’s hang-ups are internal-- he doesn’t want to face Rukia again until he can stand against Byakuya. I think the origin of this is that he simply wants what’s best for Rukia, and he can’t stomach the idea of asking her to leave her rich, noble family for him, unless, of course, he’s somehow better than Byakuya in some dimension, and the only thing Renji’s ever considered himself good at is fighting.

Even more interesting is that he’s chosen to go about this by... studying the man’s every move and becoming his lieutenant. But for as much energy as Renji has put into learning Byakuya’s favorite combat moves, he doesn’t actually know anything about him as a person. He’s shocked when Rukia predicts that Byakuya won’t lift a finger to help her, and then horrified when this actually comes to pass. A few chapters later, as he’s running Hinamori through, Aizen comments that “Adoration is the state furthest from understanding.” I would probably classify Renji’s feelings towards Byakuya more as admiration or idolization, rather than adoration, but I think this statement is also very true of Renji and Byakuya’s relationship. Unlike poor Momo, Renji gets a little more time and opportunity to do something with this information. With a little Ichigo-forced soul searching, he realizes that he’s not going to come out the hero of this story no matter what, but if he doesn’t do something, Rukia’s not going to come out of this story at all, and even if he’s not really ready, he’s spent 40 years trying to figure out how to beat Kuchiki Byakuya, let’s hope all that was good for something.

The Byakuya-Renji fight has no direct impact on the events of the Soul Society Arc. It makes Byakuya show up to Rukia’s execution 5 minutes late and without his scarf. Renji gets healed, so it really doesn’t matter all that much to him, either. You could argue that they both wasted a bunch of energy (that they could have used to fight Aizen later) but it’s primarily a character-driven moment of them both drawing lines in the sand about where they stand, vis a vis Rukia. Byakuya wins this fight, and he wins it handily, but he’s wrong, as he comes to realize a few issues later, when Ichigo kicks his ass and tells him he’s a bad brother, a lesson that Byakuya will take to heart for the rest of the manga. Byakuya claims that the difference between Renji and himself is class, but the real difference between is the heart, and in the long run, Renji is the real victor of this fight.

The hospital scene is an interesting footnote to this. Byakuya defeated Renji, but Byakuya was the asshole and everyone knows it. There’s an expectation that perhaps Renji will quit or perhaps Renji will give him an earful and perhaps even Rukia will choose to leave the family, either to go to the Living World or to be with Renji (and Byakuya would deserve this), but instead, both Renji and Rukia give Byakuya another chance, which is not, I think, a place Renji ever expected to be.

Rukia and Byakuya building up a sibling relationship after this is fairly straightforward (although I’m sure it had its weird moments), but Byakuya and Renji now have this profoundly awkward relationship where Byakuya is obviously in charge, but he sort of depends on Renji as a personal compass because he’s shit at dealing with people and he doesn’t want to screw stuff up with Rukia again. Take for example, the part of the Hueco Mundo arc where Orihime is kidnapped and Rukia and Renji desert their posts to come help rescue her. Kubo takes to the panel-space to tell us that Byakuya has tacitly approved this. As a clan head and a captain, a person who is entrenched in the hierarchy of Soul Society, Byakuya couldn’t possibly go to Hueco Mundo-- but he can turn a blind eye while his sister and lieutenant scurry out through the Kuchiki family senkaimon. Renji, for his part, tried to go to Hueco Mundo through official channels and got shot down. We don’t know what Renji would have done if Byakuya had explicitly forbidden him from going, but it doesn’t matter-- Byakuya enabled Renji to follow his heart here, because Byakuya can’t. Rukia would have gone to Hueco Mundo regardless. She cares about Byakuya, but she doesn’t depend on him for validation the way Renji does.

I said this was going to be about the TYBW, so let’s get to that. Early in the arc, we’re shown several scenes where it’s clear that Byakuya respects and values Renji as a lieutenant, but he’s also pretty damn patronizing to him. Renji is the first one to engage As Nodt, and when Byakuya shows up, he acts surprised that Renji hasn’t taken him out yet, but then proceeds to take over the fight (real, “stand back, fives, an eleven has arrived” energy). After Byakuya then loses his bankai like a doofus, Renji wants to take point so that Byakuya can figure out As Nodt’s attack and Byakuya won’t let him... and then proceeds to get thrashed.

This has to be one of the most emotionally charged fights in Bleach. Byakuya is losing, and Renji jumps in, absolutely incensed that As Nodt would use Senbonzakura against Byakuya. Renji isn’t doing great, but he’s not doing terrible when Byakuya gets up and tries to help Renji, even though he’s a big bloody mess. As Nodt reacts by shredding Byakuya into chunks, and Renji just loses it, and if Mask de Masculine hadn’t shown up and kicked him halfway across the Seireitei, I daresay Renji would have killed himself trying to take down As Nodt.

This is where I usually make the point that if Byakuya had died to here, it would have broken Renji into little pieces, but that’s not today’s essay. Instead, everyone goes to the Royal Realm, and by virtue of the fact that Byakuya is injured worse than everyone else, Renji has to go forward without him or his approval.

In typical Renji fashion, the thing that motivates Renji here is not glory or heroism, but the desire to accompany Ichigo, the need to be with his friends in their times of trial. In fact his companionship here is absolutely essential-- at Hikifune’s, Ichigo expresses deep doubts that he’s doing the right thing, and Renji reminds himself that if he wants to protect others, he has to take care of himself first.

At Nimaiya’s however, Renji and Ichigo are split up because they must follow their own paths. The other extremely interesting thing that happens here is that Renji’s sword is reforged. Byakuya shattered one of Hihio Zabimaru’s joints the very first time Renji used them in combat. Renji brushed it off at the time, saying that he could get by without it. Even though Byakuya has long been his motivating force and his mentor, he’s also been held back by his connection to him. And at this point, it’s gone.

I really wish we got to see where Renji and Rukia meet up again, but we don’t. Unlike with Ichigo, though, Rukia doesn’t seem to need anything from Renji. They travel together, fight together as equals, wear matching outfits, like you do. Oh. Wait. After all this time, in the 493 chapters between Needless Emotions and Blue Stripes, Renji can finally see himself as an equal to Rukia. They get. bankai. Together.

I want to emphasize that it’s not really anything about Rukia herself that allowed Renji to make bankai, it’s the fact that he’s finally managed to move past the feeling that he’s not enough. Defeating Byakuya would not actually have solved this problem, and having Byakuya dying in front of him wouldn’t have either. Renji gets criticized for losing a lot of his fights, but that’s such a key to his character. He’s not always the strongest, he doesn’t always win, but he keeps fighting for what he cares about. He struggles with his need for approval, for external validation, but Renji is at his best when he doesn’t have time to think about that, when he’s just fighting by his friends’ sides against impossible odds, doing what he knows in his heart is right.

I think people tend to make a little more than is strictly necessary of the line where he tells Mask that he’s “a villain”, I think he’s most just making fun of Mask’s own self-aggrandizement. On another level, though, this is just Renji being at ease with himself. Byakuya typically enters a fight bloviating about the honor of Soul Society and “how dare you raise your sword against me, the 28th Head of the Kuchiki” and even Ikkaku had the whole deal about telling people your name before you kill them, but Renji is more like “you beat up my friends, so I’m gonna break your face,” like there’s no ego in it, just you’re there, and he’s there, and then you’re lying on the ground and he’s taking a nap somewhere. This is so different than the insecure, posturing young man he was at the start of this series and I love this growth for him.

Even after he eventually meets up with Byakuya again, something has changed about their dynamic. The group gets split up and rejoined two or three times, and Renji and Rukia always stay together while Byakuya ends up fighting alongside others, Hisagi and later Hitsugaya and Zaraki. This is cemented in their last scene together, where Rukia and Renji try to stay with Byakuya and he sends them off to fight with Ichigo by saying “your help is not needed here.” In some ways, it’s an echo of Byakuya sending them off to Hueco Mundo, but in other ways, it’s acknowledging that they are their own people, not just an extension of him.

Hitsugaya follows it up with this:

There’s more here than meets the eye, though-- Byakuya and Renji have maintained a pretty strict superior-subordinate relationship, because that’s the easiest way for them to make sense of the world, but the fact is, they do care about each other and are important to one another.

I know there would be a certain narrative satisfaction in seeing Renji make captain at the end-- he’s one of the hardest working people in Bleach, and it frankly seems weird to see Iba get the haori when he doesn’t. But Renji has never wanted to be a captain. Renji becoming captain would, in some ways, be a failure. He spends years pre-canon chasing rank and prestige because that’s what he thinks will make him worthy, and it didn’t. Instead, he found worth in being himself, in loving his friends and being there for them, in learning things from Byakuya and teaching him things in return. Renji doesn’t need to be Byakuya’s lieutenant anymore, he just does it because he likes it. It makes him happy. What better character development is there than that?

#renji abarai #byakuya kuchiki #tybwa #god i love to get up on a saturday and write essays about renji's character development #tldr: renji checks off all the gotei career milestones *except* making captain and then proceeds to lean in to his true calling: malewife #we stan legends only

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natalie-k-pan · 3 years ago

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10 Ways the Loki show Disappointed Me

part two

6) The trailer was misleading advertising. Marvel’s done it in the past with little to no backlash:

Iron Man 3 presenting the Mandarin as the ultimate foe for Tony to defeat, only to find out he’s a charlatan in a minor role.

Falcon and Winter Soldier was presented as a light-hearted buddy adventure, only to tackle darker themes about nationalism and racism. (Not saying that those themes were bad, just that the TFAWS’s trailer was not truthful to the story).

In the case of Loki, the trailer presented the plot as Loki making time-traveling shenanigans and being captured for breaking the timeline. They included the D.B Cooper clip, and the scenes of Loki in New York and as king in Asgard. These clips never show up in season 1. The D.B Cooper scene was a off-the-cuff moment, and the highly-anticipated (imo) President Loki was around for five minutes.

The trailer shows the storyline being about Loki breaking the timeline, with Mobius saying in a voiceover, “You picked up the tesseract, breaking reality. I want you to help us fix it.”

Marvel’s publicity team knew what story we would want to see from the character. And that’s not what we got: it was a mix of Loki tagging along with Sylvie to take down the Timekeepers, and detective-esque scenes of trying to overthrow the TimeKeepers.

It was never about Loki having an adventure, breaking the timeline, and having to fix it.

There’s a difference between having scenes that don’t make it into the final product, between not revealing enough of the story to spoil plot twists...and deliberately choosing certain scenes and quotes to present a false version of the story.

I guess Marvel was worried that no one would watch it if they showed us the real product.

7) Loki’s powers were wildly inconsistent, especially compared to what we’ve seen before.

In the past, we’ve seen Loki do illusions, duplication casting and in Thor 2, some very light telekinesis. After hearing of his mother’s death, he throws several pieces of furniture in into the cell walls with his mind. This is after losing the person who probably mattered most to him at the time, and feeling responsible for her death--it’s a powerful move showing his magical capabilities.

In the show, in Episode 3 we see him pull a Roomba towards himself in order to use it as a shield during a fight--pretty in-line with what we saw in the Dark World.

One episode later, an entire flipping tower is falling towards them, and he reverses it with his mind alone.

It was in the face of death, you say. Of course he was going to pull some cool new magical move.

Sure. In the face of death, I could see him jumping from throwing chairs to something heavier, like maybe a crumbling wall or a fruit stand.

BUT A TOWER?

WHY?

HOW??

He’s never done anything on that scale magically. In episode 2, he got tossed around by a (human) Alabama man. Why would he not use that move to bring the roof crumbling down if he was fighting for his life then?

So he’s got massive telepathic power when a building is falling but can’t use it in a fight against regular people.... okay?

Honestly, due to the fact that they’ve weakened him so much, and when Loki said, “I think we’re stronger than we realize”, I’m betting Season 2 will include Loki discovering the extent of his magical powers.

I don’t like this idea because again, it contradicts the previous canon. In Thor 1, Hogun literally calls Loki a “master of magic”. He went toe-to-toe with Thor and the Avengers and now can’t beat regular humans. A thousand+ year old being unaware of his own untapped potential doesn’t seem correct (yeah, they did that with Thor in Ragnarok, I know).

This Loki’s power levels jump up and down according to the plot, trying to make us believe that due to his spoiled past, Loki needs to apply himself to learn more about his powers.

8) Loki was out of character.

His lying and scheming was way too obvious. I was incredibly confused the first couple of episodes because it would be strange how he would be a pathetic buffoon one minute and yet The only moment I was sold on his competence as a liar was episode 2 at the renaissance fair where he attempts to fool the TVA. He was actually competent for once, but he gets caught, and goes into apologizing and sucking up 30 seconds later.

He gets drunk when they’re on the mission on Lamentis. This didn’t make sense--when he was trying to conquer Earth, he had the opportunity to also goof off and he’s always been shown to take things seriously, with the exception of Ragnarok.

The “I’m a narcissist” scene. While Loki is the type to crave attention--in Avengers, Tony calls him a diva who wants his name plastered to the skies--it comes from a place of feeling overshadowed, never able to match his brother Thor. Which we can see has some basis:

In Thor 1, his adopted parents raised him to hate his race,

lied to him about it,

and when he was hanging over an wormhole, his father finally rejected him.

In Avengers, Thor tells him in that his slights are “imagined”.

Thor 2, his adopted father told him his “birthright was to die”.

While it doesn’t excuse his actions in Thor and Avengers, it’s pretty clear that his family, particularly his father, have let him down.

So to make him experience character development and understand why he does what he does...the writers took him back to Asgard, and had Sif beat him up repeatedly until he admits he does terrible things because he’s a...narcissist.

It was pretty hard to watch that scene, especially because I related to Loki as someone who felt overshadowed and overlooked. He tried too hard to be what his family wanted, to show that he was “the worthy son”.

But here in the fantastic year of 2021, this show decided to throw away all of that emotional nuance away.

9) The costumes were bad.

The brown variant jacket with its ugly orange block letters.

The guard suit on Lamentis looked like a cross between a purple sweater and a plague doctor mask. honestly makes me shuder to see it

Loki’s green-and-gold costumes are some of the most distinct, instantly recognizable outfits of the MCU. And he almost immediately loses it in the first episode. It ends being given to Sylvie, (like most of Loki’s better characteristics) and he stays in a detective skinny-tie suit instead. The costume is okay, but it lacks the flair and style he’s had previously, and he never gains it back.

10) The season finale really did showcase this show in the best way-- ig hype followed by disappointment.

For five episodes, we rushed towards the ultimate villain, the mastermind behind it all. Episode 6 was like...being handed a pack of bubble wrap, swinging your hand hard, expecting that satisfying pop! only to have it slowly putter out with a sad little sound.

First, Kang looked like he got his costume from Party City. The purple cape isn’t doing him any favors. Then, the man sat there and monologued for forty minutes, making jokes, telling us how he set the plot up, and how the multiverse worked.

I know Marvel gets flack for there always being an CGI climactic action scene, but…they had 6 episodes leading up to the Big Bad, and for it to end that anticlimactically with a man in a Party City purple cape was a letdown. The finale had no menace, no teeth. In the words of Mobius, it was just…talkie-talkie.

All in all, this show really suffered from ignoring Loki’s past, where he would realistically be emotionally-wise, and a lack of focus on its title character’s development. Settings and costumes being better/unique would be also be nice, especially given its popularity. At the end of the day, I don’t see the character I empathized so strongly with in this show.

#loki disney+#loki negativity #loki critical #loki #loki review #wish it was better

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theodora3022 · 4 years ago

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Playing tricks with the trickster

Summary: Failed escape attempt from yandere Childe. He lets you play your cards, even playing along, just for his own amusement.

Notes: My first genshin piece yay... I had a sweet and terrible dream of me running from Childe in the woods. Also some inspiration was drawn from @cinnamonest‘s this post, one big virtual hug to her! I hope I did Childe justice, what can I say I love manipulative smiling boys. It has become a pattern as I dash from one fandom to another. This is had turned out to be longer then I expected...Ginger boy demands my time and energy too much omg. Mind the warnings, although there is nothing extreme in this.

Fun fact, I was looping to Nintendo game by Alessia Cara when writing this down. I believe it fits the theme of this fic quite well.

Tagging: @akutaguagua a great friend who patiently beta-read this mess of a horror dream and gave me lots of kind praises!

(Offical art belongs to miHoYo! This is a cover page of this video, if there is any issues, contact me and I will remove it at once)

Warnings: Implied past abduction,dub-con touching, mild degradation, drugging(not on reader), implied non-con/dub-con at the end, this is not healthy love and I do not condone this irl.

It has been nearly a month since the youngest Fatui Harbinger had “taken you in”. After a few tries, you were too horrified by the punishments to continuously fight him. You learned on the first day that Childe’s smiling, the friendly mask would come off towards you. Your behaviour would decide if that is a curse or a “blessing”.

So you had quieted down, struggling to restrain yourself from yelling or screaming, carefully not to provoke his anger. Despite being compliant to his orders, you never truly showed him any affection either. Sure, you would sit on his lap if he asked, but you never initiated anything intimate with him. No matter how much Tartaglia spoiled you with clothes, books, jewelry or other luxuries, he is still the one who holds the commanding end of your shackles. It’s the best not to get used to all of that when your sight is set on the door.

Although he has taken your freedom away, you are not kept in a windowless room. On the contrary, you have too many outings now. Wherever he goes, you have to be present in a 2m radius, including meetings. Being a Harbinger is no easy job, so he prefers not having to worry about your safetly during buisness hours. The best way to do that is never let you out of his sight.

“Love, no one should witness our little problems. Well, no one alive that is.” Of course you wouldn’t want to put innocent people's lives at stake. You never dared to act out when you two are in public, and no one would bat an eye if a Fatui had taken a lover.

You had taken an emotionless approach towards him. If Childe wants a kiss on the cheek, you’ll give him a quick light peck. If he wants breakfast, you’ll go make some pancakes with the topping he likes. Luckily, Childe had not done anything too extreme yet. If cuddling to sleep does not count as extreme that is. The only time you slipped up is when he suddenly hugs you from behind when you’re cooking.

You thought maybe, just maybe, by being as boring and dull as you could, this bastard might just get tired of you and let you go. Childe only loves the fun of it right? Or maybe it could lower his guard.

Oh, how naive you are. You should have known better than to underestimate a Fatui harbinger. See, this is exactly why he needs to keep you around. Yes, unfortunately for you, Childe loves you, so very much. Speaking to him with a monotone voice isn’t going to alter that fact.

You have been devoid of emotions as of late. While Childe does appreciate fewer screams for the sake of his eardrums, this schemer can sense you are up to something. Perhaps this is the peace before your “storm”(he thought of it more like a drizzle)

You want to play a game? Okay, why not? Childe cannot wait to see what tricks you got on those sleeves. Are you ever getting away? Does an amateur ever win when they play a game with a professional trickster? Never.

Still, nothing bites like a cornered rat. You are no airhead, and he is fully aware of that. Just not as cunning and observent as him, that’s all.

The way you just kept your emotions sealed up is impressive, even to someone like him. Even when he got hansy, you did not flinch and just stared at the corner. Childe can only catch faint glimpses of anger when you thought he wasn’t looking.

Hm, when are you pulling your trigger? Tonight, or tomorrow night? Not that Childe is impatient, anything from you is worth waiting. But he would need to dismiss his patrolling underlings in the nearby woods beforehand. No extras would be allowed to disturb this game.

There is no chance during the day, a somewhat mutual understanding for you two. Night time in comparison, is a different story.

Anyone’s sleeping hours is their most vulnerable time of the day, Childe is no exception. You do not plan to harm him, not that you don’t want to. But you are willing to swallow the pent up frustration towards him if you would never see his face again after this. Maybe beating up some slimes would help with the release?

You somehow managed to slip a mixture of herbs into his tea. Since he would buy cooking ingredients for you from time to time, you had requested a bunch of herbs along with the ingredients of a sleep inducing medicine you remembered. Although Childe does all he can to keep you near him, there are inevitable hours that he needs to be somewhere without you. He cannot jeopardize your safety with troublesome monsters. On a side note, he loves showing you off to anyone, his colleagues, acquaintances, business partners, anyone he does not deem a threat.

Enough time for you to make those herbs into powder and cover it up with a few spoons of milk. Tea with milk has become quite popular in Liyue as of late. Childe has grown to love them, so you have learned how to mix it up. He always let you handle his food and drinks, saying that he “trusts you”. What you do not know is this is one of the openings he exposed on purpose. It’s not like you can aquire anything deadly under his suffocating supervision.

Your plan will work, or so you think. Childe will not wake up when you wiggle out of his grasp, because dreamland will keep him occupied. All you need is a glider and a usable sword from Liyue and you’ll get your life back. Bottling up extreme emotions has certainly taken a toll on your mind, but it will be worth it if that is the prerequisite of being free.

Something about this being so easy sits ill with you. Have you really been with the youngest Fatui Harbinger this whole time? But that was brushed off your shoulders by the sheer excitement of regaining your long lost freedom. You know Liyue is in walking distance, all you need to do is cross these woods and-

The moment you dive into the forest, you think you heard an amused chuckle.

That smooth voice terrifies you to no end, the same voice you took orders from for the past month.

Oh, how Childe loves seeing you happy. It’s priceless, both literally and figuratively. No matter how many things he buys you, you had not shown him even one small smile. Enjoy your sweet freedom, because it ain’t going to last. You certainly will know your place after this right? If not you are just dumber then he give you credit for.

That glow of relief in your eyes is worth every last bit of this intense dizzying feeling to Childe. To make sure your plan go through, he had drunk the tea without hesitation, quick enough to catch the momentarily excitement you expressed. He knows the game is on, therefore he had given the night patrol guards the entire evening off. Forcing himself to stay concious by digging his nails into his palms, Childe followed you into the woods.

Your potion is quite strong. Excellent, you’ll have to give him the recipe for informational purposes later. Especially how you managed to achieve such effects with a few herbs you had. He never took you to be anything less than a smart girl, but this has exceeded his expectations. Where’s the fun in a game without challenges?

How you storm through the forest wearing that cute terrified expression looks so endearing, it’s surely not his fault if he wants to enjoy this sight to be longer right.

So, each time you feel the slightest at ease due to whatever reason, expect Childe to make some sound to send you running like your life depends on it again. The sadistic man is hunting you down playfully, like a cat chasing a stray mouse to the inevitable corner.

You know he is toying with you. There is nothing you can do to make him shut up though.

“Love, you had scratched your leg. Must hurts by the looks of it.”

“Liyue is that way, you know.”

“Are you tired? If you want to jog in the middle of the night, you should have called me to come along!”

How can he say those things nonchalantly while you are trying to escape from him? Here he is, daunting you with that signature smile he wears so very often. That is when reality slaps you right in the face. No matter how hard you plan, no matter how fast you run, there is no getting rid of him.

When your stamina runs out, a simple pull and push on your left wrist is enough to let you fall onto the ground panting. Even now, you still refuse to beg for mercy. You would take the cold grounds to the warmth of Childe’s embrace anyday.

“Aw, burnt out already? Pathetic. Looks like we need to work on your stamina more. But this is not the place for exercise.”

“Look at me.” His slender but forceful fingers tilt your head up, making you look into those ocean blue orbs. There is anger present in his eyes, but those emotions are more a mixture of delight and that. His smile had also been replaced by a mocking smirk. “You, trying to leave me? Your sense of humor is...well, let’s just call it unique. Lucky for you, you amused me nonetheless.”

“I know what you’re thinking. How I’m a selfish jerk and you hate me. Why be so ungrateful? You get to live in luxury thanks to me, you know. I am selfish, yes, but look how stupid you are. I know you added something extra in my evening tea, my beloved.”

“Come now, we are going to do some exercises suited for a night like this once we’re back home. It is our one month milestone, after all. You had already given me your gift, it is only fair for you that I do the same.”

Childe is not making a sarcastic remark. The thrill of that chase was the best fun he had in months. And you are going to love his gift too, maybe not right away, but surely sometimes after.

You have to mentally prepare yourself for the worst as he dragged you back to the prison, hopefully you’ll still be able to walk properly after whatever Childe got in store.

#yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe #yandere tartaglia #this is a dream fleshed out into a fic #i am not sorry

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

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Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 23 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren woke with a start at the sound of something slamming to the point of cracking – a door thrown too hard, perhaps, or the shattering of a piece of furniture under the strength of a powerful cultivator.

Dazed at having been woken so abruptly at such a late hour, he at first thought that the sound was an aberration of some sort, someone making too much noise by mistake, even some cultivation maniac doing exercises in the middle of the night that had briefly lost control, but then the sounds continued, crashing and slamming and even indistinct shouting.

Indistinct, and unfamiliar, but still recognizable – that was Wen Ruohan’s voice.

Lan Qiren had never heard him shout before.

He stood up, instinctively checking over his clothing and fixing his forehead ribbon, and padded out towards the door to the hallway. The array used to create enough silence to let him sleep was glowing faintly, doing its work against overwhelming odds, but Lan Qiren didn’t hesitate to dismiss it and pull open the door, poking his head out to see what was going on.

“ – what use are you?” Wen Ruohan was shouting, some distance down the hall. “Good-for-nothing bitch! What do you think I got you for in the first place?”

He was standing outside his wife’s door.

Lan Qiren had not seen Madame Wen on this visit, other than in passing. He’d been relieved to discover that he had heard accurately and that she had not suffered on account of what she had done, except perhaps as a result of her husband making clear that he would give her exactly what he had promised her out of their marriage and nothing more. Despite that, every time she saw him, she generally had an expression that resembled smelling something bad, and he didn’t especially want to deal with her irrational jealousy.

(Lan Qiren could understand and even appreciate the truth that she had shown him, but it didn’t mean he appreciated the reasoning behind her actions - just as Wen Ruohan might appreciate the cunning and ambition demonstrated by her actions, and begrudgingly acknowledge that the real fault for their divide was his own actions, but not feel any more inclined to her as a result.)

Lan Qiren thought he might have to deal with her more, particularly on the few times he had visited little Wen Xu, who was already a size or two larger than he’d started out – it was simply shocking in terms of how much time had passed since he’d had his argument with Wen Ruohan – but he found that the child was largely being watched by servants, not the Madame, who was busy ruling the social scene of the Nightless City. Whether that was true or merely an excuse, by now it was clear that they were in mutual agreement that they did not want to spend any time in each other’s presence.

She was also, very clearly, refusing to let Wen Ruohan into her bedroom.

Lan Qiren couldn’t blame her: he’d never seen Wen Ruohan in a state like this. His clothing was mussed up, his hands clenched, his face red, his aura frighteningly strong and overwhelming, his monstrously powerful qi roiling the air in the hallway into an incipient storm – and even from the distance he was standing, Lan Qiren could smell the distinct odor of strong liquor, suggesting that Wen Ruohan had overindulged in alcohol at some point after Lan Qiren had gone to sleep. Based on casual mentions in prior conversation, Lan Qiren knew that Wen Ruohan’s cultivation level was so high as to render him largely unaffected even by significant drinking, but the fact that he had bothered to try to seek solace in the wine jar suggested that there was something incredibly wrong with his mental state.

It wasn’t a qi deviation - the violent emanations were unsettled, but not distorted - but it wasn’t good, either.

Wisdom would counsel that Lan Qiren keep back and not get in Wen Ruohan’s way.

Righteousness, on the other hand…

Anyway, Wen Ruohan was his sworn brother. What sort of brother would Lan Qiren be if he took only the good and not the bad?

“Da-ge?” he called, stepping out into the hallway. “Da-ge, come away from there.”

Wen Ruohan turned to him, and his expression was frightening. “Fine. You’ll do,” he growled, and it was only because Lan Qiren had grown wiser and stronger that he realized what was about to happen and dodged before Wen Ruohan could grab him, darting back into his room.

Wen Ruohan followed him in.

“What happened?” Lan Qiren asked, still backing away. “You were fine at dinner – what happened since then?”

For some reason, that set Wen Ruohan off again, turning his attention away from Lan Qiren, and he grabbed the table and threw it into the wall, smashing it all to pieces.

“That fucker,” he snarled, his eyes blank and distant. He wasn’t angry at Lan Qiren, that much was clear, but he was filled with ceaseless rage, and he was taking it out on everything around him. “That fucker got married! He’s got a son!”

Lan Qiren blinked. “…what?”

Smash went the cabinet, and all the various things on it. At least Wen Ruohan hadn’t started in on the paintings, which were the only aspect of the room Lan Qiren actually cared or worried about.

“Who got married and had a son?” Lan Qiren asked, even though he knew it would only inflame Wen Ruohan further. At this point, it was clear that Wen Ruohan’s had gotten stuck in his chest, like black blood that needed to be coughed; he needed to vent his anger or else it would curdle within him and he would suffer. “Normally that’s a good thing, a cause for celebration. Why is it bad here?”

“Because it’s Lao Nie!” Wen Ruohan burst out, and Lan Qiren rocked back on his heels in shock.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t known that Lao Nie had been unusually distracted these past few months, even most of a year – the way he’d ignored or disregarded Lan Qiren’s letters about the situation with He Kexin, the breezy and almost manic tone of his replies to Lan Qiren’s brother, which Lan Qiren had seen, it all spoke of distraction and carelessness, all typical of Lao Nie, albeit of far greater severity than usual.

Nor was it truly a surprise that none of them had been informed: the Qinghe Nie had always been idiosyncratic about their personal details, unusually secretive and fiercely proud of it. They did not share their birth date or even year, other than for arranging a marriage. If Lan Qiren had thought about it, he wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find out that Lao Nie would have married and had a child all without having shared any information on the subject until afterwards.

Only…

“But aren’t you – with him?” he asked, and knew immediately that he had asked the wrong question.

Wen Ruohan roared and smashed yet another thing, sending a palm strike through a dresser and denting the stone wall with the power of it. “He’s mine,” he spat. His eyes were even redder than usual, the sclera becoming red alongside the iris; it made him look almost possessed, almost as if he really were having some sort of qi deviation. “He’s mine, damn it! Who is he to give himself to another? And he didn’t even tell me…!”

They were definitely in a relationship, Lan Qiren confirmed to himself. His guess had been right. There could be no doubt about it. And yet, despite it all, Lao Nie had –

No, he couldn’t even express surprise. Lan Qiren knew Lao Nie, knew what he valued and how he valued it: Lao Nie had always been passionate and powerful, strong and superior, friendly and often kind, and yet at his core he was ruthless, careless, and selfish, just like Wen Ruohan was so often selfish. He did not concern himself overmuch with questions of righteousness, other than to the degree necessary to win glory to his sect as one on the righteous path. After his sect, which he valued most of all, he was an indolent pleasure-seeker, with terrible taste in partners, the more dangerous the better; Lan Qiren had seen him flirting with people left and right long after he’d concluded that he’d entered into a relationship with Wen Ruohan.

In the past, Wen Ruohan hadn’t seemed to mind. If anything, he’d even encouraged him, looking smug and amused by the flirtations, taking the other man’s victories as his own; during one incident that Lan Qiren could recall, he’d all but applauded when Lao Nie had successfully wooed some rogue cultivator and taken her back to his bed, turning instead to his own separate amusements after.

Then again, that wasn’t a marriage.

(Of course, Wen Ruohan himself had also gotten married…)

“How dare he,” Wen Ruohan said, panting a little from his own exertion, clearly more moved by the feelings raging within him than any type of physical exhaustion. “How dare he – does he think I’m desperate? Pathetic? Does he think I’d run after him, begging and humiliating myself..? I don’t need him at all!”

He turned once more, and this time his gaze focused on Lan Qiren.

“I have something of my own already,” he murmured, and this time Lan Qiren wasn’t fast enough to stop him as he caught him up in his arms, slamming his back against the wall.

Lan Qiren tensed, suddenly for a moment back in his rooms in the Cloud Recesses, looking up at a different brother who wanted to hurt him – but no, Wen Ruohan wasn’t the same, Wen Ruohan liked him. He was acting out of fury, not malice; there was no He Kexin here to goad him on, nothing like that.

Even the force of being pushed against the wall hadn’t actually hurt – Wen Ruohan had been careful even in his mindless rage, making sure that any impact was cushioned by his own arms rather than Lan Qiren’s back; Lan Qiren hadn’t even had the breath knocked out of him.

“Da-ge…!”

Wen Ruohan didn’t want to hear him. He put his hand on Lan Qiren’s mouth and pressed down, cutting off speech at once. They were pressed together so closely that the movement inadvertently dragged his sleeve onto Lan Qiren’s throat, almost making him gag, and he instinctively tried futilely to kick his way out – it didn’t work, of course.

Wen Ruohan pressed up against him, the front of his body burning like flame against Lan Qiren.

“You’re mine,” he said, reaching in to nuzzle the side of Lan Qiren’s head with his cheek. “My blood brother, bound by oath and blood; my shining pearl, untouched by the world. All good things should belong to me.”

Lan Qiren reached up to try to push away the hand at this mouth, wanting to speak even though he did not know what he would say, and at first he thought he’d done it. But then suddenly he was in motion, his back landing hard on the bed he’d been given, the impact softened by the blanket Wen Ruohan had wrapped around him when he’d brought him back to the Nightless City from the Cloud Recesses. Shocked by the unexpectedness of the abrupt movement, he gasped, a wordless inhale rather than any coherent words.

Less than a heartbeat, and Wen Ruohan was on top of him, pressing him down. His body seemed even hotter than usual, as if his whole spirit were aflame, his qi boiling in the air around them until Lan Qiren had the impression as though he ought to be able to see steam; his hands were hot where they pressed down on Lan Qiren’s shoulders, his lips burning as they pressed against his collarbone, and between his legs there was something hot pressing against him, too.

And still, Lan Qiren – was not afraid.

He wasn’t sure why. He’d been terrified when it had been his brother who had stood against him, disgusted when it had been He Kexin pawing at him in ways he did not and had never wanted, but Wen Ruohan, who was bound to him through nothing but a tricked oath…

“Da-ge,” he whispered. “Please stop.”

Wen Ruohan stilled. He didn’t get up or pull away, but he didn’t make any further movements.

“Please let me go.”

Wen Ruohan’s breathing was harsh in his ear. “You, too, little Lan?” he asked. “Just like him, making me think – don’t you like me?”

“I do,” Lan Qiren admitted. He might be stupid when it came to social interactions, might be slow and miss things that were obvious, but even he could figure out what Wen Ruohan meant, with his confession of how Lan Qiren lingered in his thoughts and in pressing him down on the bed like this while mourning the loss of Lao Nie, his lover. And maybe sometimes he needed Cangse Sanren to point things out to him, but most of the time he knew himself. This past week had made clear enough that he enjoyed Wen Ruohan’s endless indulgences in a spirit that was more than just pure brotherhood. “I do like you. But I don’t like – this.”

Wen Ruohan was silent for a long moment.

“Not this, with me,” he finally said. “Or not – at all?”

“At all,” Lan Qiren said. He had thought when he was younger that he might change, but he was increasingly sure that he wouldn’t, that this was just what he was like. “I was never like the others my age. Even Yueheng-xiong, who I would’ve thought loved nothing but mathematics and explosions, has found himself distracted by the shape of the one he likes. But not me. I don’t yearn the way they do. I can love a person’s spirit, but I never much cared for the flesh.”

“Love,” Wen Ruohan echoed, his voice oddly uneven. “You speak of - love?”

“…isn’t that what we’re talking about?”

Wen Ruohan laughed, a jagged and choked up thing, and then he pulled away, letting Lan Qiren go, sitting up on the bed and burying his face in his hands. The qi around him was still too-hot, overwhelming, pulsing with his feelings, even as his shoulders shook and he stared blankly at the wall; any other man, and Lan Qiren might think he was crying, but he could see Wen Ruohan’s face through his fingers, and there were no tears there.

Perhaps he’d forgotten how.

Lan Qiren slowly sat up himself.

He could still feel the mild stiffness of old healing injuries, but he ignored them and got up off the bed, going to the one side table that had yet to be destroyed – the one where he’d laid his guqin to rest. It turned out that Wen Ruohan had only destroyed the things he himself had put into the room; he hadn’t touched anything of Lan Qiren’s.

Lan Qiren settled in front of his guqin and began to play.

Out of all the compositions he had created, his favorite was the one he had first created at the Nightless City, that strange hypnotic melody that brought to mind spilled pearls, but unlike some of the others he’d worked on, it had never felt fully completed. The music wrapped itself around the listener, at first intimate and then oppressive, a heavy stone in their chest and pressure on their skull, growing darker and darker, just as he’d written it – but now he played onwards, elaborating on the theme in ways he hadn’t planned or expected, letting the solemn notes brighten, the overwhelming pressure turning from suffocating into safe as it became clear that it would cause no harm, the storm passing by overhead and leaving things clean and clear and better, the lingering euphoria of finding oneself supported, rather than alone.

When his fingers finally stilled, Lan Qiren looked up and saw Wen Ruohan sitting there with his back straight again, hands resting gently in his lap, eyes closed as if in meditation and face calm once more. His qi no longer coiled around him, lashing out; it had settled once more.

“You will,” Wen Ruohan said without opening his eyes, “be an excellent traveling musician, little Lan. People will fight for the right to hear you, and you will never go without an audience.”

Lan Qiren hesitated, not sure what to make of such a compliment, or what Wen Ruohan meant by it. He’d only intended to play something to help him settle his qi and soothe his rage, which he’d clearly accomplished. He hadn’t even meant to play that particular song, other than in the way that he tended to default to it when he had nothing else specific in mind. It had always been unsatisfying, like an itch, but now it finally felt complete.

“Da-ge –” he started to say, not knowing what he would say next, but at any rate he never had the chance to continue.

“When you do finally go to fulfill your dreams, leaving the dust of the world behind you, I hope that you visit the Nightless City often,” Wen Ruohan said. His tone was still calm, settled, but not, Lan Qiren observed, peaceful: there were all sorts of seething emotions underneath it. “But for the moment, I think it is better if you return to the Cloud Recesses.”

Lan Qiren hesitated once again, this time feeling a little hurt. “You don’t want me here?”

“I do,” Wen Ruohan said, and his lips curved into something that was not a smile; it seemed almost painful a shape to contort into, and his eyes reflected no humor at all when he opened them. “Very much. Ah, little Lan, if only you knew…despite that, I would still have you go. Having made my views on you clear to your brother, it should be safe, and I do not want you to see what beast I make of myself when I am denied.”

Lan Qiren bowed his head a little. “About Lao Nie…”

“I know what he’s like,” Wen Ruohan said. “I’ve always known, from the start. If you had asked me a few days ago, I would have said that I did not have any illusions…”

He smiled bitterly.

“It seems that I misjudged myself.”

“I’ll go,” Lan Qiren said. He didn’t especially want to, but Wen Ruohan wasn’t in a rage, nor lashing out unthinkingly. To refuse him would be to deny him, to treat him as if he could not make his own decisions, and that, he thought, would be worse. “If you want me to, I’ll go, and later, I’ll return.”

Wen Ruohan said nothing, but he watched as Lan Qiren pulled on some more clothing, not caring which one it was, and did his hair back up in the simplest style, favoring speed over substance; he packed away his guqin and his sword and one of the paintings that he had liked best, but took nothing else – after all, it wasn’t as if he were going away for good.

He made it to the door before hesitating, then turned back to look at Wen Ruohan, who was still watching him.

“Is there anything…?” he asked haltingly. “Something I can get you…?”

“Send one of the maids to me,” Wen Ruohan said. “Any of them, it doesn’t matter which. If they’re still hanging around in the family quarters after an eruption like that, it can be seen that their ambition has overcome their good sense, making them a perfect match for me. It would be a shame to deny them the fruits of their victory.”

Lan Qiren didn’t quite understand, but he knew enough to get the gist; he felt his cheeks and ears go hot. Still, he had offered, and it wasn’t something he was willing to do himself, so there was really no basis for refusing to pass along the request. He nodded and slipped out – as Wen Ruohan predicted, there was one of the maids lingering at the far corner, looking around in blatant curiosity. She was pretty enough, Lan Qiren supposed, with an upturned nose and a slightly arrogant air, her clothing carefully arranged to be just a little mussed in a way that Lan Qiren understood most men to find attractive.

“Your sect leader is in my room,” he told her, and she blinked at him. “If you go to him now, he’d probably accept. Up to you, though.”

She stared at him for a moment, then nodded. He left, his head held high; when he glanced back anyway, he saw her going into his room, hair patted down and clothing even more carefully arranged – Wen Ruohan hadn’t been wrong when he speculated as to her ambitions. The life of a powerful sect leader, Lan Qiren supposed: desired but never known, as distant from those around him as Lan Qiren but as a consequence of his position rather than his inclination.

He would definitely return, Lan Qiren decided. Perhaps he would even make the Nightless City the first destination on his travels. After all, why should he not? Was Wen Ruohan not his sworn brother, too?

Yes, Lan Qiren thought. That was right.

Wen Ruohan deserved to have someone possess him as he longed to possess others.

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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sapphire-knight · 4 years ago

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Welcome to a new episode of Sapphire Rambles, today's topic being:

Just as c!Tommy is a simbol of Care, c!Fundy is a simbol of Love.

Let me explain.

(There are going to be 3 principal points to this rant, and each of them is gonna end with a Tl;dr in purple, so it's easier to follow)

If you're a regular in the Fundy tag (or in the Ranboo tag since this argument gets often brought up in relation to C!Ranboo), you might have already seen some rants talking about how C!Fundy is an incredibly loving person, willing to chase after the people he care about if he sees the tiniest hint that mending their relationship is possible, even if they hurted him in the past.

Yeah you are going to see the same argument again here in the first part, but I promise this gets interesting

This became more clear after the Break, when he decided to try and mend his relationship with Philza and Ranboo even if they weren't at all on good terms at the moment, but he thought it was worth it so he tried and will keep on trying anyways, but we have examples of Fundy's really loving and forgiving nature back to the Revolutionary era

Everyone knows about Eret's betrayal I'm sure, but one thing people seem to skim over is how it effected Fundy, because there's the really high possibility that he was the one who was hurted the most by it.

For everyone who has some spotty memory (me too sometimes fam), Eret was the closest person to Fundy at the time, the two being really close friends, so the betrayal must have had a terrible effect on his emotional health, but you know how it went?

It went that Fundy was the first person to reach out to Eret and start to forgive his actions. Fundy always valued his friendships above the side he was in. So even tho he was a L'manburg abitant, he still thought of Eret as a dear friend to him and did his best to not make them feel alone or isolated

There are really few examples of people Fundy actually has an issue with, but even here Hate is a strong and mostly wrong word to apply, for example:

- Wilbur: as we are shown in the interactions with Ghostbur, Fundy didn't hate Wilbut for how he neglected and patronized him, it made him upset (as we saw when Ghostbur called him "his little champion" and he ran away) but he never hated Wilbur for that. The only thing he didn't forgive him was deciding to die, leaving him. And his issue with Ghostbur is not aknowledging or taking responsability. But he doesn't hate Ghostbur, he can talk to him in a civil manner even if the Ghost pretty much upsets him. And about Wilbur? Fundy loved Wilbur, the thing that hurted him was he taking the decision to definitivly leave him.

- Technoblade: even before Doomsday, the correct word of Fundy's feelings towards Techno has never been Hate, but Fear. A lot of people seemed to miss this point about the Butcher Army as a whole, but they weren't move by hate, even if they tried to make it look like they were. They were terrified. On their way to Techno's house, it was more clear than ever that they were TERRIBLY afraid of Techno. The Butcher army was never a movement of hate, but a bad reaction to a traumatic event that scarred them with fear. Also, after the Break? Fundy understands why Techno wanted L'manburg gone, so he doesn't hate him for that.

- Jschlatt: if you followed Fundy's pov, it won't be a surprise me saying that Fundy doesn't hate Jschlatt, but it may be news to other people, since one of the last interaction between the two was... anything but positive. I still shiver at the caravan scene. But even after all he's done, Fundy can't bring himself to completly hate Jschlatt, even if he did a lot of horrible things and was a horrible person, he still doesn't hate him. Fundy took with him Jschlatt's sword, keeping it as a relic and a memory of the man.

There is no one in the server, probably not even Dream Himself, that Fundy full-on hates. No matter how much they hurted him and everyone else, he just. Doesn't hate them. He's able to see the humanity in everyone, even if he wishes he could just hate people that wronged him. He was always forgiving and loving, these two aspects of him becoming even more prominent after his Break.

Tl;dr: Fundy is a character incredibly full of love and almost always willing to forgive and mend relationships with people he cares about at the moment he sees the possibility.

Now that I got the part most talked about out of the way, I'm taking the second tangent. Let's talk about Self-love.

It's not news the fact that there are really few characters, if not actually none of them, who love themselves. Might it be for trauma or for guilt, none of the characters actually love themself and act out of self-love.

Sometimes there are characters that act for themselves, but that is different from acting out of self-love.

Acting for themselves means doing something to achieve an objective that you want, for example: Eret's betrayal.

Eret betrayed L'Manburg becayse he was promised the role of King of the SMP by Dream, she acted out of her wish for power and control. That's an example of acting for yourself.

Acting out of self-love means doing something with the only cardinal reason being that it's good for you, taking care of yourself doing something that makes you feel better and healthier. That is acting out of self-love.

And, if you look at the server, you can easily see that no one has ever done that, expect for one single time.

The closest wrong thing you might be thinking off right now is when Tommy escaped from exile, but that was not an act driven by self-love. Sure, Tommy saved himself and went towards a healthier mindset, but what drove him towards that direction was not a desire to be better and good for himself, but rage towards Dream and a desire to be back to his family and friends.

You know what the only act that could possibly be out os self-love is?

Fundy going away for a years and a half, taking a break from everyone

Think about it for a second. Why did he do that? Let's start putting away the wrong possibilities:

- Doing it for someone: Fundy at the moment was heavily spiraling towards paranoia, wanting to be a villain to make everyone hate him. If that was his mindset at the time, why would he even want to get a break for anyone?

- Having a second cause: what second cause could there be for a choice like getting away from an unhealthy situation to heal? The only second reason a choice like this could have is healing to help someone else heal when you're feeling better, but refer to the last point

- ... that's virtually it

The only reason that could have caused Fundy to decide to take a break from the whole situation because it was unhealthy and heal was because he wanted to heal. For himself. He genuinly wanted himself to feel better for the only reason being, simply, feeling better.

Fundy is the only character for now to have ever taken an important choice for making himself feel better and letting himself heal.

Tl;dr: Fundy taking the year and a half break was the only decision on the entire SMP taken only out of self-love and genuine desire to feel better for the sole reason of feeling better.

Fundy is a representation of love, in any shape or form. He is unapologetically full of love and care, both for himself and for the people around him.

Anyway, the third part is a theory, if younwill kindly follow me:

The above analysis is the exact reason why the Egg causes Fundy an extreme repulsion.

Since both Fundy and Tubbo said that the Egg seems connected to Dreamons, I'm going to roll with that idea in mind.

As we all know, one of the only known weaknesses of a Dreamon is Love and this Dreamon seems to be acting and controlling people out of wishes and desires.

Fundy should be a perfect candidate for the Egg to manipulate, isn't he? One of Fundy's most known characteristic is his research for love, affection and appreciation from people, and we know the egg has no problem using love to manipulate someone, because he is manipulating Bbh using his (platonic?) love for Skeppy against him.

So why the egg would cause a repulsing reaction to Fundy?

Tommy seems immune because he doesn't wish for anything right now, he has everything that he wants

Tubbo also has a repulsive reaction, but is not a hateful reaction but one driven by fear and sadness, the Egg purposefully trying to scare him away, probably to make him unable to fight against him

But why Fundy's reaction would be full-on hate?

I think the egg was trying to do with Fundy the same thing he's doing with Tubbo, scaring him so badly to drive them to the point where they cannot fight back out of complete fear, but it's not working.

It's not working because the Egg fears Fundy, fears how full of pure, unfiltered and unapologetic love his heart is, fears how he's the living representation of the fact that love, of any kind, is the strongest emotion out there. Fundy already was able to defeat a Dreamon because of his own love, and now that he's more emotionally stable and has decided to follow his heart more, mending relationship with people he loves even if they hurt him?

Fundy is an incredibly dangerous threat to the Egg.

So fear is not enough to keep the fox away, he cannot let him anywhere near his plans.

He fears that if he tried the fear treatment on Fundy, Fundy would be able to break out of the web of terror as soon as someone he loved was caught in the crossfire

So he tried pushing him away in a different way, using hate instead of fear, because since Fundy is such a love-driven person all around, the best way to keep him away is to use hate, just like Tubbo is often driven by hope and optimism, so the best way to keep him far fron where he could be a danger is to use sadness and fear.

Tl;dr: The Egg is making Fundy hate him because that's the only emotion that could actually keep Fundy away from him, because he, being a Dreamon, fears how full of love Fundy is.

#Dream smp analysis #dream smp #character analysis #Fundy #long post #mcyt #dream smp season 3 #the eggpire #The Eret #Tubbo #Guys I'm paranoid so if I nominate a character multiple times I'm probably gonna tag them ok?#I'm sorry if this could be seen as crosstagging- if it is just tell me and I'll stop doing it. I'm just. really paranoid guys.#dreamon hunters #sapphire talks. don't listen to her.#sapphire rants

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purebarnes · 4 years ago

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courage to change—

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ➢ when one man gets a chance to go out and date but something is stoping him, wether it’s his guilt taunting him or the girl he was meant to be with.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ➢ 1.8k

ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀꜱ ➢ angst, mention of death, therapy sessions.

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴀᴋꜱ ! ➢ just enjoy.

all on his mind was his nightmares, he would constantly have them and when he had them, he wouldn’t tell anyone about them. especially his therapist, dr. raynor even though she needs to know so that she could help him. after he was brainwashed and turned into a assassin that all he thought himself as. she was on his mind constantly and nothing could change that—she was the girl for him.

probably the most bizarre combination of people to ever get together but if it was meant to be then that’s all that mattered. bucky always wanted to be with y/n but after her dad passing then he couldn’t bare to see her again. no calls, no notes, nothing which was common for someone like james. he would go to his court-appointed therapy sessions to get help so that he could be free. it was the usual, he wouldn’t talk to her and she would have to take down notes.

most people would cooperate but when you’re in his situation then it would be extremely difficult for you as well. he would sit across of dr. raynor just staring, “did you call her?” she asked and he tensed up staring at the ground intensity spreading throughout the whole room. she shook her head as she new the answer but she need something. he would constantly bring up sam and y/n but mostly her and it was like he couldn’t forget all the passion they had. “james. have you called her?” dr asked once more getting no answer from the man, this time he shook his head at her meeting her eyes. he wanted to call or do something to make sure she knew that he still cared about her. “i can’t call her—why not?” she interrupted him and honestly he didn’t have a answer on why he could talk to her.

she moved passed the topic of y/n and went to go to tell her about the nightmare that he indeed had last night as she knew that he had one. he would do the same, not say anything but this one was easier to dodge. “are you still having nightmares?—no.” he told her while he knew that he was and it would taunt him ever night. “well, you seem a little off today. i don’t want to mention her but—it’s not about y/n.” he tried to tell her, “did something happen recently?” she asked bucky getting another no from his lips trailing off like it was smooth.

bucky hated constantly saying no and lying about everything that was bothering him, “you’re a civilian now. with your history, the government needs to know that you’re not gonna...” the dr said putting up her first to show that he wouldn’t hurt anyone. he stifled a smile while she continued, “so, tell me about your most recent nightmare—i didn’t have a nightmare.” dr. raynor sighed deeply before clicking her pen to write into her notebook, bucky groaned. “oh, come on. really? you’re gonna do the notebook thing? why? it’s passive aggressive.” he mumbled.

“you don’t talk. i write—okay. okay, i thought about her but every time i see anything there she is. everywhere i go she doesn’t disappear.” he told the therapist slightly telling the truth and he never told her about the nightmare he had. “but like i said, i didn’t have a nightmare—look.... one day, you’re gonna have to open up and understand that some people really do want to help you and that they can be trusted.” she told him.

she wanted bucky to open and finally figure out that he needed to be able to trust. “i trust people—yeah? give me your phone.” bucky groaned reaching his back pocket to reach for his phone to pass it across. she went to check the contacts he had, “you don’t have ten numbers on this thing. oh, and you’ve been ignoring the texts from sam and still nothing to y/n. look, you’ve gotta nurture friendships. i am the only person you have called all week. that is so sad.” she passed the phone back to him as he caught it waiting for her to continue. “you’re alone. you’re a hundred years old. you have no history, no family, no girl—are you lashing out at me, doc? because that’s really unprofessional, you know? i mean, when did that start? yelling at your clients? the notebook. that’s great.” he sighed when he saw her pull out the notebook into her lap to write a few things.

“all right, give me a break. i’m trying, okay? this isn’t... this is new for me. i didn’t have a moment to deal with anything, you know? i had a little... calm in wakanda. i had her and i just lost her.” he explained to the doctor sighing at the thought of bringing her up again, he wanted to be able to just forget her but nothing could do that for him. he lied, he wanted her back and he wanted to feel her but he couldn’t do anything. he thought it was too late, “and other than that, i just went down one fight to another for 90 years.” she knew he had gone through a lot, it was a lot and she wanted to help and asked him what he wanted. “peace—that is utter bullshit.” she spat out honestly, “you’re a terrible shrink—i was an excellent soldier, so i saw a lot of dead bodies, and i know how that can shut you down. and if you are alone, that is the quietest, most personal hell. and, james, it is very hard to escape.”

if he knew what he wanted, he could of done something to make it all happen. bucky was a man of trauma and he wasn’t going to get better by not helping himself. “you have your mind back, you are being pardoned. i mean these are good things. you’re free.”

wednesday’s were the days that bucky and mr. nakajima would go out and eat lunch at izzy, a little bar that they would love to go and eat at. it was a couple times that he loved to go out and eat with the older, younger than him man. as they talked, yori suggested to ask out the lady in front of him. “you should ask her out—i can’t.” he knew he wasn’t ready to go back and date some girl that wasn’t y/n, sure he thought she was pretty but he wanted an excuse to not date her. it wasn’t that he didn’t like her, “He would like to take you out on a date.” he told the young lady as she looked up and bucky shook his head, not understanding why he would do that. “I’m really sorry about him—why are you sorry? i’m game.” he was taken back and he clicked his tongue while being intrigued, “tomorrow night then?”mr. nakajima said as she agreed on going he sighed, knowing that it might be time to move on.

maybe not move on entirely but to see what would happen in the date that he would go on. he turned back to mr. nakajima, “i can’t believe you did that. it’s a dance to these things. you gotta warm up and i haven’t danced since...” he said then automatically thinking about y/n and all the times she would laugh with him or giggle at him. he froze then looked back at him. it didn’t hurt if he would just go on one date and for her to never find out even though they would probably never be together again.

it was around ten o’clock and the gentle men brought flowers for his date tonight thinking it would be a nice gesture thing to do. they met back into the bar where they were talking and laughing like they would have known each other for a long time. it was almost like he has been there before—she brought up dating and asked if he had dated before and he couldn’t just not tell her anything. when he didn’t say anything, she kept staring until he spoke up drink his drink. “what’re you doing—what’s her name?” he looked started on what she meant, “was she special?” she asked another question. this time he understood what he was talking about, “y/n.” he just said not trying to make anything awkward by talking about his ex lover to the girl he was on a date with.

he was unsure on how she knew that he was thinking about her on their date, “she must be special if you’re thinking about her right now.” she joked chuckling but bucky stayed quiet finally understanding how he felt. he wasn’t ready to be with someone else and it don’t make it easy when she would be in his head everywhere. bucky looked at the wall zoning out to anything at that moment, the girl tried to snap him out of it but nothing worked. she told him that he would bring games so that they could play to pass the time. he went back in that zone.

she was dressed in a black t-shirt and a pair of shorts that showed of her curves easily to distract bucky. she didn’t mean for him to feel this way between her but he could help it. she would go over to her bathroom and starting putting away her essentials until she felt a vibranium metal arm. the coldness hit her shown skin as she shuddered as he went to wrap his arms around her waist. y/n looked up from her position and met his eyes through the mirror and smiled widely, he went to place small kisses on her shoulder—she groaned at him.

she turned around with his arms still placed on her waist, he moved his arm up to meet her back. she pulled up her arms and wrapped them gently around his neck, “stop staring like that.” she said looking into his blue eyes falling in love even more. he chuckled slightly caressing her check with his hand running it back and forth with his thumb. he couldn’t help but pull her in for a kiss which she accepted kissing him back. he let go of her then placing his head on top of hers telling her to go to bed. “let’s go to bed doll.”

he grabbed her hand leading them to the bed and getting ready to sleep with each other, in their arms. y/n unfolded her sheets jumping on the bed with bucky on the other side, she turned off her table light and turned to get closer to bucky while she moved to lay her head on his chest. she chuckle making bucky look down on her, “i love you.” bucky told her then falling asleep together.

the man looked to see the girl from the bar and he stuttered looking at her, “i, uh, i... i gotta go.” bucky got up from his stool and went to go straight the door before heading towards his own apartment. he went to open up his phone and he thought he would go and text her asking her how she was or that he even missed her. he wrote down a message but nothing came out, he would just fail to express how he felt.

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #sam tfatws #tfaws #tfatws series #marvel #mcu phase 4 #mcu imagine #fatws bucky #bucky imagine

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midnightsnyx · 4 years ago

Text

Mathew Barzal - A Year In The Making

pairing: mat barzal/reader

word count: 5.5k

warnings: fluff, angst (me writing sad stuff?? shocker), and there may be a couple swear words? also, this is not edited so i apologize in advance lol

a/n: so this isn’t the soulmate mat fic i am supposed to be writing lol but its still mat! i’ve been working on it f-o-r-e-v-e-r for @hannahmb so hannah, i hope you like it!

my masterlist

Mat Barzal

Summary: Y/N looks back on an entire year with Mat.

January

When you say that meeting Mathew Barzal swept you off your feet, you mean he literally swept you off your feet. It was cold and icy when you were walking to your favorite coffee shop. You weren’t watching where you were walking so when you ran in to him, his foot accidentally (and you question to the day whether it was truly accidental) tripped you up, he managed to catch you before you fell and when you looked at him and saw warm hazel eyes and brown hair sticking out from under his gray hat, you knew you were a goner.

. . .

You knew the reputation hockey players had. They slept around, didn’t give girls a second look after they got what they wanted and you were dead set on never giving Mathew Barzal a second thought but when you ran into him at the grocery store and he asked you to go for coffee, you agreed.

Looking back, it was probably the dumbest and smartest decision of your life.

Coffee led to lunches which led to a movie night at his place which led you to your first hockey game. You knew absolutely nothing about hockey but what you did know, was that Mat loved to celebrate after a win. Whether it was heading to the bar with a couple of his friends or spending the night home watching a movie, he was always in the best mood after.

After your first game, he decided that the best way to celebrate was to go for a walk and get hot chocolate with you. Despite only knowing each other for a little under a month, it felt like the two of you had been the best of friends forever. It was something that attracted you to Mat. How easily he was able to get you to open up to him and vice versa - how much he trusted you with his thoughts and feelings.

It’s definitely how you found yourself standing under a lamppost, snow falling around you like some cheesy romance novel and Mat kissing you softly.

And thinking back, you wouldn’t have changed a single thing.

February

Things between you and Mat were… interesting to say the least. You weren’t a couple but you know that both of you weren’t seeing other people either. Labels were messy anyways. They caused more tension between the two of you than good. Your friends, however, had their opinions.

“I just think it’s a little weird that he hasn’t asked you to make things official yet.” Your friend said. “I mean, you don’t know what he does on the road or during the nights you don’t spend together.”

Her words certainly hit a sore spot but you tried to brush it off. “It’s casual,” you said. “We don’t want to jump into anything.”

“If you say so.” She hummed, going back to eating her pasta.

Her words were in the back of your mind though, no Mater how hard you tried to push them out. You and Mat had been open about not seeing other people, it was a lengthy discussion that made you feel better about not putting a label on anything. But, there’s always the possibility that he would change his mind. You didn’t know what he did on the road. Maybe your friend was right, and even though you and Mat had talked about it, perhaps it was just his way of making sure you stuck around while he was home.

Maybe you were just the pathetic girl that waited at home for him while he did whatever he wanted while on the road.

March

You’d swept your uneasy feelings about Mat under the rug until a Snapchat video surfaced of him on the internet. It was him with the other guys sitting at a table in a bar with some girls sitting with them.

They were sitting with Mat and not on him is what you kept telling yourself. He didn’t look like he was interested in them but you couldn’t get rid of the awful feeling in the pit of your stomach that he would take one of them home with him.

You knew that letting your friend’s words about him would ruin things but you couldn’t help it. So you ignored him when he called you the next morning. He knew that you had early classes and wouldn’t call you after games when the time zones would be too different.

You ignored his call and then the texts he sent. He would be home the next day so you decided he could wait until then because you still weren’t sure what exactly to say to him. What would you tell him? That you didn’t believe him when he said that he only wanted to see you? That you didn’t trust him, or that you let your friends words get to you?

You still didn’t know what to say when he showed up at your apartment. He looked worried and mad and you weren’t sure which was worse.

“What’s wrong?” was the first thing he asked. There was no hello, how are you?

“Nothing.” You lied but he shook his head.

“I know you better than that.” He said. “Something’s wrong.”

You wanted to lie to him again, tell him it was nothing, and to forget about it but you needed to know.

“Those girls in the video.” You said, and he looked confused for a moment before his expression turned into understanding. “I know we aren’t a couple, technically,” you said quietly and watched as he slowly walked towards you. “But it bothered me.”

You waited for his reaction, watched his face warily. What you weren’t expecting was for him to take both your hands in his and squeeze them gently.

“Can I be honest with you?” He asked softly and even though you weren’t ready for his honesty, you nodded.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you that entire night.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Tito kept asking me why I wasn’t making a move on one of them.” His head tilted a little as he studied you. “But all I could think about that night was how much I wanted you to be there with me.”

You couldn’t hide the smile that crossed your face and you wrapped your arms around his waist and hid your face in the crook of his neck.

“I kinda wished I was there too.” You whispered and your smile widened when he picked you up and spun you around. He was laughing when he put you down.

“Let’s go out tomorrow night. A couple of the guys and their girlfriends or wives are going to Joe’s.” He gave you a hesitant look but continued. “I want to introduce you to them.”

Your brows furrowed. “I’ve met your teammates.”

“I want-” he cleared his throat. “I want to introduce you as my girlfriend.”

Your smile could have lit up the room.

April

You quickly learned that being exclusive wasn’t all that it was cut out to be. There was a certain pressure that came with dating a professional athlete and as time went on, you felt yourself begin to crack under that pressure. You weren’t sure if it was the media, intense fans or the fact that it was difficult to spend as much time together during the Playoffs but you started to question things with Mat.

Your mother always told you that you were an over thinker and always managed to think of the worst possible scenarios and though you would never admit it to her, she was damn right.

Your overthinking is what typically caused an fight between you and Mat. You were never one to pick fights but it just felt like every single thing that happened made you upset. Whether it was you feeling that he played video games too much when the two of you hung out or that he thought you made a big deal out of small things, the two of you were arguing all the time.

It left you spending many nights questioning whether being with him was even worth it when all it seemed to do was cause stress. You wondered if he ever thought the same things.

. . .

The loud cheering in the Barclays Centre did no good to your mood on a Monday afternoon game. You weren’t even sure why you went to the stupid game in the first place after a terrible argument between you and Mat the night prior. It might have been Tito’s many, many texts that day asking you to come because “Mat is always in a bad mood when you don’t come to games” that had you sitting in the stands sporting your Barzal jersey. You knew that you were welcomed in the Wives Lounge but sometimes you enjoyed sitting surrounded by random people you didn’t know and not having to socialize.

It definitely was a good idea at the time because yours and Mat’s fight had unfortunately been in front of some of his teammates and their other halves so you didn’t feel like getting questioned about it.

A loud bang caused you to nearly jump out of your seat and when you looked up, Tito was standing in front of you, grin on his face and waving. You had been distracting yourself on your phone so you wouldn’t look at Mat during warm-ups but you caught his eye when Tito had made you look up. You couldn’t really read the expression on his face. Part was probably irritation and the other maybe relief that you had shown up. The door slamming in his face the night before was probably still fresh in his mind.

Tito waving his hand in front of you brought you back from the memory and he had a puck in his hand, pointing it to you. You furrowed your brows at him because you already had a few pucks from games when you and Mat had first started dating because he had a habit of gifting you with a lot of Islanders things. So you caught it when he chucked it over the glass, intending to give it to the kid sitting next to you until you caught sight of some scribbles on the back. You flipped the puck over and your heart warmed when you realized it was Mat’s handwriting.

I’m sorry with a small heart was written messily on it and when you looked up and caught Mat’s eyes, you smiled and nodded and that must have been enough for him because he grinned and winked at you.

It was enough for now.

. . .

Meeting him at the locker room doors was not anything unusual but you were on edge that evening. You were pretty sure Mat had forgiven you for slamming the door in his face the night before but you were still nervous. When the guys started coming out of the locker room, dressed back in their game suits and grins on their faces, you kept your eyes trained on the doors waiting for Mat.

“He’ll be a few more minutes.” Tito said, stopping in front of you. “He’s doing an interview - game winning goal scorer and all.”

You smiled and let him ruffle your hair like you were his little sister despite the age difference between you two being minor. He always treated you like a sister from the moment you met and you liked that compared to some of Mat’s other young teammates who tried flirting with you in the beginning.

“Thanks, Tito.” You said, waving as he smiled again and walked away.

A little longer than a few more minutes, Mat walked through the doors. He was dressed in his suit again and his hair was wet from the quick shower he must have taken before coming out.

“Hey.” He said quietly, hesitating as if he had been trying to decide whether to approach you or not. When you held out your arms, he walked straight to you and wrapped his around you, lifting you off the ground slightly.

The two of you stood there for what felt like longer than it probably was before he loosened his arms and pulled away a little.

“I’m sorry.” He said, resting his forehead against yours.

“Me too,” you told him and stood on the tips of your toes so you could reach his lips. The kiss was gentle and slow and when you pulled away, you took a step back. “The fight was stupid and we both know it.”

He nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “I know. I just… I feel like sometimes we fight for no reason and it frustrates me. I hate being mad with you.”

Deciding that Barclays Centre wasn’t the right place for his conversation, you took his hand and pulled him towards the exit.

“Let’s go home and talk.” You said and he nodded, squeezing you hand gently and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

As you both walked to his car, you idly wondered when home stopped being a place and instead became a person.

May

The Islanders got put out of the playoffs during the second round and although you knew Mat was upset, he shrugged and said, “there’s always next year.” You wondered if that was what got professional athletes through the losses in their careers.

The end of the hockey season meant Mat going home to B.C and it left you in an odd place. He didn’t directly ask you to come with him for the off season but the way he described his summer plans, made it seem like you were involved.

But you being you prevented you from outright asking if he wanted you to come home with him. It was a big step and you weren’t sure you could handle the rejection.

As the date he was leaving quickly approached, he asked if the two of you could talk and your stomach plummeted at his words. You agreed though and during the drive to his apartment, you mentally prepared yourself for the rejection.

He greeted you at the door with a kiss which eased some of your worries but when he started making you your favourite ice tea, you started getting worried. He was mindlessly babbling about random things until he sat on the stool next to you and when you looked at him, he was uncharacteristically serious.

“You could have told me you didn’t want to come to B.C,” he said. “I wouldn’t have been offended, I know you have friends here and probably had summer plans-”

“Mat.” You said quickly, cutting him off. “I want to come with you. To your home.”

He stopped his babbling and looked at you in shock. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah.”

“But you didn’t say.”

“Well I mean, you never asked.”

He rose his eyebrows comically high. “I didn’t think I had to.”

A smile broke out across your face and you leaned forwards so you could kiss him. He chased after you when you sat back making your grin widen. “I just didn’t want to push. We spend nearly all year together so I didn’t know if you wanted space for the summer.”

“Y/N.” He said seriously. “I want to be with you. Forever.”

And if that wasn’t the sweetest and most romantic thing a man had ever said to you, you weren’t sure what was.

June

Summer with Mat was, well, amazing. Days spent on the lake and nights spent under the stars ended up making that summer one of the best in your life.

Meeting his family for the first time was equally frightening as it was exciting. His father, Mike and mom Nadia were two of the kindest people you met and you quickly bonded with his sister Liana. They took you in as if you were their own and Mat frequently joked that they were stealing you from him.

You didn’t mind though. You loved spending days shopping at the mall or going to the beach with Liana. Brunch with his mom was always lovely and she always managed to tell you the funniest and most embarrassing stories about Mat. It gave you a little leverage when you needed it and on top of that, Mat was overly cute when he would pout at you jokingly poking fun of him.

Every single day, you realized you fell a little more in love with him and that realization nearly knocked you off your feet.

July

“Let’s go out tonight together.” He said one morning. “Just the two of us.”

Not having spent much alone time together as you would have liked, you quickly agreed. Mat didn’t tell you where he planned on taking you but he must have told Liana because she chose an outfit for you. It gave you a small idea of what he might have been planning.

She didn’t pick out a fancy dress which told you that he wasn’t bringing you to a high end restaurant which you were secretly pleased about because you never quite felt like you fit in at places like those. You much more preferred to go to a small diner so when she chose a cute romper with a pair of sandals, you had a bit of an idea of where you might be going.

“Any hints?” You asked, placing a hand over his which was resting on your thigh.

He shook his head and grinned. “It’s a surprise.”

You pretended to be bothered by it but you felt giddy inside that he was putting so much thought in to your date. It was also fun playing a guessing game, throwing ideas at him of where he was taking you even though you knew he wasn’t going to tell you. You had carefully watched his reactions to your guesses so you weren’t overly surprised when your ride ended at a park.

It was pretty late in the evening, getting close to dark so there were very few people out and around. He parked his car and reached in the backseat to grab a bag before climbing out of the car.

You knew he liked opening the door for you so you waited until he opened it before getting out as well. He took your hand and lead you to a park of the park that was empty and then dropped the bag on the ground and dug around, pulling an old blanket out.

“Picnic?” You asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Is it okay?” He asked and you sat down when he spread the blanket out.

“It’s perfect.” You told him, watching as his face lit up. He sat down next to you and started pulling different snacks out of his bag, handing you some of your favorites.

“Mom helped pack the lunch.” He paused. “I had to stop her when she tried to cook a three course meal for us.”

You couldn’t help but laugh because it was a very Nadia thing to do.

“I love your mom.” You said. “I love your entire family.”

He smiled, looking at the ground as if he was concentrating on something. You knew the look enough that it meant he was going to say something but was either nervous and was working himself up to saying it or would decide not to say it at all.

But you wanted to know what he was thinking so you nudged him.

“What’s going on in your head?”

His cheeks were red when he lifted his head and he shrugged, smiling.

“I love you.”

Your smile was as bright as one of the stars and he met you halfway when you leaned towards him.

“I love you too.”

August

August was one of your least favourite months because it meant that summer was coming to an end. It also meant that off season was coming to an end and it meant that you and Mat would soon be heading back to New York. You loved it there, you really did. You missed your friends and your job but you knew you would miss B.C even more so when the day came that the two of you had to leave, you weren’t ashamed of the tears that were shed. Nadia made you promise to visit again soon and it was an easy promise to keep.

As soon as you got home, Mat was right back at training for the new season. It was a big change from spending basically every single day together to having to share him again with hockey. You loved Mat and you loved that he did what he loved but sometimes you did wish he had a normal nine to five job. He knew you felt that way some days and you could tell he sometimes felt a little bad about it but what you came to learn throughout your relationship with Mat, was that hockey nearly always came first. It was something that you struggled a lot with in the beginning of your relationship but it got a little easier as time went on.

On your best days, you would watch Mat train and feel pride in how determined and hard working he was.

On your worst days, you laid in bed at night and tried to think of your first kiss with the snow falling softly around you, warm sunny days at the lake and late nights under the stars.

Sometimes it was enough but sometimes, it wasn’t.

September

Wake Me Up When September Ends is the most played song on your playlist for an entire month.

October

You never know the biggest fight of your life is coming until it happens. It’s something that starts as the smallest of things until suddenly it hits you like a freight train and the impact is devastating.

That’s what the biggest fight of yours and Mat’s relationship was like.

You hated shouting and screaming. You hated threats to give everything up and walk away. You hated how easy it felt to do just that.

But what you hated most of all, was feeling like you were never enough. Like no Mater how hard you tried, failure was bound to happen and there was no way you could stop it.

And that was exactly what happened.

Slamming doors was your thing. It was childish and immature but it was a way of you making a point when you were angry about something so when Mat slammed a door, you knew he was past anger.

Mat rarely got angry with you. It could be counted on one hand the amount of times he even raised his voice at you but that night, the two of you yelled at each other until your voices were hoarse.

“Why can’t you understand where I’m coming from?” You snapped, watching him pace back and fourth across the living room. His hair was a mess, he had been running his hands through it and tugging enough that you thought he would tear it out.

“Because it makes no sense!” He yelled, “you knew what you signed up for when we started dating! I can’t be your typical nine to five boyfriend who comes home every night.”

“I’m not asking you to be that! I’m asking you to try and put more effort in to this relationship!” You shouted, not caring about the noise complaints you received from your neighbors a week later. “Do you know what it feels like when you feel that you’re the only one putting any effort in? What it feels like when you look at your friends relationships only to realize that yours isn’t even close to how good theirs is?”

“So you’re calling me a terrible boyfriend.” He said dryly.

“That’s not what I said and you know it. Stop putting words in my mouth, Mat.”

“I’m not putting words in your mouth if that’s what you’re saying. If you’re so unhappy, then why are you still with me, huh?”

His words stopped what you planned to say and you stared at him in shock. A small part of you wondered what the answer to his question was. Were you really that unhappy that you considered leaving?

“I…” you began but trailed off as you watched any emotion leave his face. The hurt and even anger disappeared and you didn’t realize how quiet the room was until he shook his head.

“I’ll make it easier for you.” He said, grabbing his coat and keys. “I’m done.”

You felt like you were frozen in place as you watched him leave, slamming the door behind him. Minutes passed before you slowly walked towards the front door, opening it in hopes that maybe just maybe he was standing on the other side but when you opened it, the hallway was empty. It was dead silent and when you looked at the floor, you saw Mat’s key to your apartment laying there, the little heart and smiley face you had drawn on it staring up at you as if it was mocking you.

You knelt down to pick it up and suddenly it felt like you couldn't breathe, like all the air was pulled from your lungs and your heart was cracking open.

If meeting Mat felt like breathing for the first time, then losing him felt like drowning.

November

You thought that heartbreak was something that passed eventually, that it got easier every day but it was a lie. You didn’t get over Mat quickly, in fact, it felt like every day got harder and you always told yourself you wouldn’t be that girl. The girl who gets her heart broken and can’t get over him. You wouldn’t cry yourself to sleep some nights or be afraid to turn the TV on in case it was the sports channel and you saw his face.

You scrubbed your apartment clean of him, everything he gave you and anything that reminded you of him sat in boxes on the top shelf of the spare bedroom. It didn’t help though because the memories, those were impossible to forget. They were engraved in your brain forever.

You hated him for how easily he left, how easy it was for him to walk out of your life as if he was never here.

Tito texted you a few time in the beginning, first asking what happened and then asking if you were okay or if you needed anything. You guessed he got the message when you didn’t answer because you haven’t heard from him in weeks and you weren’t sure if that made you relieved, or sad.

Falling in love was easy you realized.

Falling out of love was impossible.

December

A year passes swiftly. Especially when it’s both the best and worst year of your life. You hated yourself for it, but when December hits, you wondered how Mat was. You wondered if he got over you quickly or if he struggled the same way you did. You suspect it was the former.

At the end of every year, you liked to go through your things and donate what you don’t need or want. You started with your clothes and as you went through it, you noticed that you were missing several of your favourite outfits and your heart sank when you realized they were at Mat’s.

It left you with a dilemma. Leave them, or be a big girl and go ask for them back. You could go through Tito to get them back but you don’t know if he’s upset with you for ignoring him just because you broke up with Mat. He was your friend and it was unfair what you did but at the time, you were hurting.

But still, you decided to do it yourself and go get the clothes from Mat’s apartment and whatever else you might have left there. You did your best to get ready and look presentable and when you felt ready, you grabbed your keys and headed for the door. When you opened it, a hand nearly collided with your face as the person standing there was starting to knock. They jumped back and when you looked up, you found yourself staring in to the eyes of the exact person you were going to see.

“Mat.” You whispered, feeling like you needed to reach out and touch his face to make sure he was actually standing there and you weren’t hallucinating. But you didn’t because that would just make you look insane.

“Hi.” He said quietly and the two of you stood there for an unknown amount of time staring at each other.

Eventually, you found your voice.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, not harshly but confused.

He opened his mouth to say something but it was if he couldn’t get the words out. Like they were stuck in his throat.

“I’m sorry.” He finally said and you looked at him in shock.

“What?”

He scratched the back of his head and looked at the floor. “What I said to you… it was unfair. I know I fucked up, and I don’t deserve a second chance but these past two months, I missed you like Hell.”

You were lost for words. You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t miss him too but were you really willing to put your heart on the line again and it got broken so easily last time? Could you even handle another heartbreak like that?

“Can we… can you give me a second chance?” He asked so timidly and quietly that you barely heard him.

You let yourself think back over the past year, remembering every single detail. All the joy, laughter, love and heartbreak. Was it worth it? Risking everything again even though you could end up broken again?

You found yourself looking at Mat again, hazel eyes warm and hopeful and it makes you think of the very first time you met. You were faced with the same decision - to let him in or let him go?

You knew you could live without him but you realized standing there, thinking about the past and what the future could be - you didn’t want to live without him.

So you stood up on the tips of your toes and pulled his lips down to meet yours and it felt like you were whole again.

“I can.”

(a couple years down the road, you’ll be saying I do in front of your friends and family with the love of your life and you’ll realize that yes, the risk was worth it.)

#mathew barzal imagine #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal imagines #mat barzal fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #hockey imagine

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laufire · 3 years ago

Text

(CW for mentions of csa)

A lot of Commonly Accepted (Often Through Uncritical Repetition) Wisdom in fandom leaves me baffled, when not straight up ticked off, but one that's been on my mind lately, that never fails to bring a scrunched up expression to my face, is the idea that Bela Talbot's backstory was some last minute add-on to her character.

You might argue that the reveal was rushed since the writers caved in and killed her off against their original plan (or at the very least, earlier than). Or that using abuse is a trite way to raise sympathy for an antagonistic character. You could even say that some of the finer details might’ve not been set in stone until they sat down to write her exist, although that one is dubious. But I’m never really going to buy that Bela’s backstory hadn’t been already planned, likely in big part.

The reason why is Season Three Episode Six, ��Red Sky At Morning”, Bela’s second episode, co-written by Eric Kripke himself. As all episodes with Bela were, may I add; which means he had a hand in crafting her story from the beginning, as creator, director, and writer.

There Dean, a character that has been shown as sharp and intuitive (although his success rate ain’t that great when it comes to Bela, admittedly xD), immediately pegs her as someone with Issues TM, asking “how did she get like this”. He even taunts her by referencing her father, showing off his talent to hit where it hurts by asking if he “didn’t give her enough hugs”, ‘cause he’s classy like that. This visibly affects Bela, changing her demeanor in their conversation, from more playful to defensive. Hell, I remember during my first watch in real time this moment, especially paired with the rest of the episode, was when I first thought it was possible she came from an abusive family.

Because, c’mon. This whole episode is about parricide. The monster of the week is a ghost who haunts those that “spilled their own family’s blood”. We get two other examples: a woman whose accidental car crash killed her cousin, and two brothers who killed their father for the inheritance. Clearly, the ghost doesn’t have a narrow criteria when it comes to means or culpability -which makes sense given his particular story: he was tried for treason and his brother, the captain of the ship, issued the sentence.

And just as we find out this information... Bela sees the ghost ship that foretells her death. This, paired with the insinuations about an unsavvory past and her discomfort at the mention of her father, aren’t a wealth of information, but they start to paint a picture. We now know for a fact that Bela caused the death of at least one relative (mom and dad); that she wouldn’t have needed to do it directly (she made a crossroads deal); and that she might’ve had a sympathetic motive (her father sexually abused her and her mother turned a blind eye).

That scene offers some more tidbits of information about her past that seem too in tune with 3x15 to be coincidental, and that absolutely break my heart: Bela’s “You wouldn’t understand. No one did.“ and “I’ll just do what I’ve always done. I’ll deal with it myself”. See, I always thought Bela must’ve told people, when she was a kid. That she reached out for help not just to her mother, but to everyone around her that she thought could’ve help: teachers, maybe even law enforcement; adults that should’ve being worthy of that trust and protected her. Except no one did (and the fact that her family seemed to be not only very rich but influential paints a very bleak picture that surely contributed to her cynic view of the world). So she took matters in her own hands, and sold her soul for ten years of relative safety and freedom from her abusers.

To tie it all up, her final scene in that episode offers some more moments that again, are very in line with her backstory. We see how she treats relationships as transactionals: she pays ten grand to the Winchesters for saving her life, like she paid with her soul. Dean, again, draws attention to her likely messed up past by calling her damaged, and she replies that “takes one to know one”. Terrible childhood, ammirite. The show wasn’t been subtle here: it’s telling us Bela has a terrible past, like the Winchesters do, but of a different kind that has resulted in a different kind of person. So yeah, I think all the facts were hinted at back in 3x06.

We could go even futher back and point out 3x03, Bela’s introduction. One of the very first things she says in the show, during her first face to face with Dean (a character that just condemned his soul to Hell), is “We’re all going to Hell, Dean. Might as well enjoy the ride”. Sure, it could be an incredibly fortuitous coincidence; as a writer, I’ve had those and they’re damn great. But it seems VERY lucky, and more likely to be a case of the kind premeditated, well-placed foreshadowing that Kripke excels at.

So, okay. I’ve established why I think Bela’s backstory wasn’t a spur of the moment decision. But why is there a notable narrative in fandom that it IS?

First thing first, I want to get something out of the way: you don’t have to like it even if it was planned ahead. I understand it’s a very thorny subject, and to make matters worse, it’s inherently tied to her death. You might even be fine with the what, but not with how it was dealt with (although personally, I appreciate that neither the abuse nor her death were shown onscreen. In fact, the worse violence we see Bela on the receiving end of in her run is Dean’s threats and manhandling, which seems like a very purposeful choice ngl. Even Gordon freaking Walker was gentler lmao).

But I do disagree with some extended fandom opinions on the topic, and I guess that’s what the post is about. For one, I don’t see how the show “condemned” or morally judged Bela in this scenario. If anything, they clearly wanted to make her sympathetic, AND they showed Dean as being in the wrong by robbing him of information. Dean’s opinion on Bela couldn’t count for shit, for once, because he didn’t have the full picture; because Bela had deemed him UNWORTHY of the full picture, and thus anything he had to say on her couldn’t be taken at face value (except this is Supernatural, so I guess this was a little too much to ask of some people?). I think saying that just because Bela died and went to Hell as a consequence of her deal, IN THE SAME SEASON the same happened to our co-lead, because the writers deemed her evil and irredeemable is simplistic at best, and the audience projecting their own feelings (or being unable to see past Dean’s) onto the writing.

All that said, to go back to the initial point of all of this xD: WHY does fandom seem to insist on viewing this narrative choice as some cheap last minute addition?

There might not be one explanation that fits all, but I have a few ideas. One is that, if this wasn’t planned for and hinted at from early on, some people might feel as if this “absolves” them of their previous (and disgustingly hateful and misoginistic) reactions to Bela. Others will see this as absolving Dean, and maybe even Sam to a lesser extent, for not helping her and for being callous towards her; if her tragic backstory was this artificial, rushed choice made by Those Writers, then Dean wasn’t responsible for reprehensible attitudes towards someone who deserved his compassion (and it can’t be denied that this fandom loves absolving Dean of responsibility lmao). And a lot people are probably only repeating what they've heard from others as the accepted narrative, especially those that didn't even watch all of s3 if at all (Castiel is my fave too, but seriously, s1-3 are worth it).

It’s like they’re creating this imaginary separation between Bela pre-reveal, and Bela post-reveal, to make the situation easier to themselves. See, Bela pre-reveal was this annoying bitch who inconvenienced and embarrassed our leads (not to mention dared have chemistry with them), and thus deserved to be punished for it; or, if we’re going with more modern fandom sensibilities, she can be made to fit into the shallow #GirlBoss mold, with a side of “Secretly A Lesbian And Therefore Not A Romantic Threat” flavour -the current preferred method to make controversial female characters more palatable.

The reveal throws a wrench into this narrative. “Bitch who deserves her comeuppance” is a hard sell when you’re talking about a character who survived csa. And a shallow #GirlBoss reading doesn’t work if you have to acknowledge that Bela was one of, if not the most tragic characters in the entire run of Supernatural.

She spent over half her life at the mercy of her abuser(s), hurt by those who should’ve loved her and protected her most. The rest of her life was extremely lonely, with seemingly only a cat as company, and a surface-level freedom that hid under the sentence that loomed over her head. She died without a single friend, or a simple show of kindness and compassion, without anyone bothering to fight for her. And then she ended up tortured for who knows how long until she became one of her torturers.

All of that is extremely difficult to digest. And when things are hard to swallow, people do as people do, and they try to simplify them. So, sure. Bela’s reveal wasn’t ever hinted at, it’s completely removed from her character and the person we met, and is not even worth trying to fit into the narrative. Sounds easy.

#talking to the void #my thoughts #spn thoughts #supernatural #bela talbot #bitter lau tag #fandom nonsense #spn 3x15 #spn 3x06 #spn s3

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ravennm84 · 4 years ago

Text

Career Advice

Hi everyone!! This story was inspired by a news anchor that I saw on TV, and thought to myself “what would happen if Alya asked that woman for an internship and showed that woman the Ladyblog.” There wasn’t originally going to be Alya redemption, but I decided that the girl needed some love too. Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!!

Alya was practically vibrating in her chair as she sat in the reception area of TVi News. She had heard from Aurora and Mireille that there was a summer internship opening and that she should submit an application. She had spent an entire week working on her resume with her mom’s help, citing her blog as experience. Her mother had told her that she might want to double check all her stories before going in, but already knew that she’d be fine. After all, she was an awesome reporter.

There were four other people in the room with her, and she was definitely the youngest. Two of them looked like they were university age and the other two probably attended lycee. That meant that they likely had a bit more experience than she did, but Alya was confident that her blog would set her up for the win. Not only that, Lila had put in a good word for her with the higher ups of TVi News. All she had to do was nail the interview and the internship was hers!

It was about an hour and two interviews before her turn came. Holding her head high; she grabbed her tablet and portfolio, straightened her skirt, and walked in as smoothly as she could in her heels.

The person conducting the interview was Claudia Ramonte, a no-nonsense kind of woman that always seemed to be on a deadline. She preferred people always be on-point and despised people that wasted her time. She was a legend in the industry, she had been an investigative journalist for over 20 years before going into semi-retirement by helping run the company and hiring new journalists. It was said that she had an eye for who had talent and who was just playing journalist. And if you fell into the latter or made the mistake of insulting her craft, you could kiss any hopes of making it big in the industry goodbye. So as soon as Alya shut the door behind her, she put on her most professional smile and extended her hand to her.

“Mme. Ramonte, Alya Cesaire, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She gave her a slight smile as she shook her hand. “When I saw that a kid in college was applying for the internship, I thought that you were either an idiot or you had a pair of steel balls. Show me which one it is.”

A little taken back but her forwardness, Alya’s hand shook slightly as she pulled her resume from the file and handed it to her. “As you can see, I’ve been running my blog, The Ladyblog, for close to a year and a half now.”

“Everyone and their mothers have blogs nowadays, Cesaire.” The woman scoffed as she tossed Alya’s resume onto her desk and turned to her computer, typing quickly. “Every candidate I’m interviewing today has at least two blogs, multiple news articles in their school newspapers, or videos from their college news or radio stations. What is it about your blog that makes you think that you are more qualified than any of them?”

Alya faltered for a second but wouldn’t be deterred, she was an awesome reporter and she would get this internship. “I’ve conducted multiple interviews with different celebrities; including Ladybug herself, other heroes of the Miraculous Team, the daughter of a diplomat who is also Ladybug’s best friend…”

“So have others, Cesaire.” She sounded bored, as she continued reading something on her computer screen.

Squaring her shoulders, Alya kept going. She refused to back down when she was so close to her internship. “I have also done extensive work on recording akuma battles and have compared my footage to other sites. None of them get as close or in depth as I do.”

“And why do you think that is, Mlle. Cesaire?” Her voice going cold

Alya blinked, not expecting the question. “Um… well-”

“Reporters and journalists are not to engage in dangerous situations that are considered life threatening. Whether someone is part of a staff or freelance, they are not to enter danger zones on their own, which you have apparently done numerous times. I will admit that when it comes to journalism, it is never without risks; but no story is worth your life.”

“But there’s no real danger, Ladybug always-”

“A terrorist is a terrorist, Cesaire.” The chill in the woman’s voice gained a hard edge. “And the attacks that have been done by the akumas have, on more than one occasion, shown the potential to be fatal. Should there be even a single time that Ladybug and Chat Noir not pull through, that could result in thousands of deaths. If you think that any credible news source would allow their people to do what you’ve been doing; then you’re more than an idiot, you’re a reckless idiot.”

Then she turned one of her computer screens towards Alya, which was queued up to the Ladyblog. “And from what I’ve seen from your blog in the two minutes you’ve been in my office; you are not only reckless, but mediocre in your work as a journalist. I have looked through multiple posts and have yet to see a single credible source mentioned. So tell me, how can you think that you are qualified to work here if you cannot follow the most basic rule of journalism and check your sources?”

“I can assure you, everything I post is completely true!”

“And I’m just supposed to take your word on that? Hardly.” She turned the screen back to herself, then started playing the first interview she had done with Lila. Mme. Ramonte played it for only 15 seconds, in which Lila claimed to be Ladybug’s best friend after she had saved her life, before pausing the video and looking at Alya. “If Lila Rossi, the daughter of a diplomat, had been saved by Ladybug, there would have been multiple articles and recordings of the incident. I just did a cursory search and the only link that came up connecting Rossi and Ladybug is your own blog.”

Alya was speechless. She wanted to say that Lila was telling the truth, but what reason would there be for Mme. Ramonte, who continued playing Lila’s interview, to lie? She stopped the video again a few seconds later, after the tale of saving Jagged Stone’s kitten from being run over by a plane on an airport runway. The look the legendary journalist gave her was that of total disgust and anger.

“Do I even need to list all the things wrong with

this story?” When Alya didn’t say anything, Mme. Ramonte went off on her, practically ranting. “Firstly, Jagged Stone has been quoted multiple times as being allergic to animal fur, and would not own a cat. Second, no one would allow a minor onto a airport runway, as it would be seen negligence and possibly as an act of terrorism. Even if she had saved some cat from being run over and Jagged had been grateful, no self respecting musician would write a song about a minor that was not their daughter, as doing so could have him labeled as a pedophile. You are very lucky that M. Stone has not seen this interview, because if he had, you would have been served with lawsuits for slander. So, I’ll ask again. Is there anything to keep me from saying that you are nothing more than a wannabe-journalist that isn’t fit to work at a news stand?”

She wasn’t even sure how to respond. Alya had been so sure that her blog was perfect, but after what Mme. Ramonte had said and how she was looking at her, she really did feel like an idiot for believing what Lila had said. Especially since she should have known better.

She now remembered when she flew to Spain with her parents when she was younger and how far away the landing strip was from the airport. There was no way Lila would have been able to see a kitten from that far away. Alya also remembered how she wanted to go outside and play, but her father told her that only authorized personnel were allowed outside at the airport. Then there was Marinette, the designer had mentioned how she couldn’t do certain designs for the rock star because he had fur allergies from when he was a kid.

Oh no, Marinette has been saying for months that Lila was a liar. Ever since she had seen Lila’s interview. And since she designs for Jagged Stone, she would know that Lila was nothing but a liar. She was also the one that got me my first exclusive with Ladybug, so she’d probably know that she was lying about that, too. And I had the nerve to tell her that she was just being jealous… I’m a terrible friend and an even worse journalist.

Looking back up at Mme. Ramonte, she was barely able to hold back tears as she shook her head. “No, Madame. There is no excuse for such shoddy journalism, it doesn’t even deserve to be called that. I apologize for wasting your time.”

The woman’s features softened slightly, but not by much. “You’re still very young and have a lot to learn about journalism, Cesaire. If I ever see you in my office again, I’ll expect more from you than any other candidate. That means looking out for your safety, knowing what is okay and not okay to publish, and checking your stories through multiple, reliable sources. I would also recommend killing your blog and starting new, the Ladyblog will become toxic to your career if it continues. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Alya couldn’t help but stare at the woman across the desk from her. Despite not deserving it, Mme. Ramonte had given her very sage and constructive advice that just might save her career in the long run. If she killed her blog now, started a new one or two, and followed her advice; by the time she finished lycee, she might be able to use them as proper references for her future career.

“Thank you, Mme. Ramonte. I won’t forget this.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Cesaire,” she waved her hand dismissively. “I’m going to remember this and I will be telling other news sources about your blog as well, to make sure you never repeat these mistakes again. So, if you are really set on being a journalist, don’t just prove it to me, prove to everyone that you are better.”

“Still, thank you. Have a nice day, Mme. Ramonte.” Alya stood from her chair but paused before she turned to walk away. “So you know, I think I’ll be doing one final post on the Ladyblog, to admit my mistakes and all the things I reported incorrectly on my blog, along with the sources to back it up. Sort of a final expose to rid myself of the bad energy from my blog, so I’ll be able to move forward.”

The woman gave a nod of approval. Before waving her out of the office.

Alya kept her head high the entire way out of the building while doing her best to remain calm, or else risk attracting an akuma. As a bit of a cleanser, she sent a text to Marinette.

To FashionGurl: You were right about Lila. I’m so sorry for not listening to you. Can we talk on Monday?

A few minutes later, she got a text back.

To FoxyJournalist: You can come by today if you want to talk.

To FashionGurl: Sorry, I’m going to be busy. I have a new story to write about that liar, one that will have multiple sources, showing everyone exactly the kind of person she is.

To FoxyJournalist: Can’t wait to read it!!

~oOo~

What followed for Alya was a very long weekend writing out every story/lie that Lila had ever told her and the class, research into Lila’s old schools, staking herself out in front of the Italian Embassy until Ambassador Rossi came out so she could introduce herself, and then a long conversation at a cafe with the very angry and distraught mother. There were a lot of questions, show-and-tell with the videos on Alya’s blog and news reports from Lila’s old schools, and then the recommendation that she go to speak with M. Damocles and Mme. Bustier.

Monday morning saw Alya going into the bakery before school, telling Tom and Sabine the truth about Lila, and then grovelling at Marinette’s feet for being such a terrible friend. One thing she did not hesitate to show the Dupain-Chengs were the records and news reports she’d found pertaining to Lila’s old schools. Tracking Lila’s social media, Alya had found three schools and discovered the kind of mayhem the girl left behind.

One school had a perfect student named Gaia, much like Marinette, bullied until she was expelled. Another school showed another popular girl named Alessia had “fallen” down a flight of stairs and broken both of her legs, a few ribs, and one of her arms. Even though there were multiple eyewitness reports that Lila had pushed her, the Italian girl moved before she could be brought up on charges. The report from the most recent school made all of them sick. A girl named Ludovica had been stalked, harassed, and bullied over social media beginning the day Lila joined the school until the day the girl committed suicide. A quick backtrace on the account showed that it had been set up by Lila Rossi.

It was quickly decided that Sabine would be going to the school to have a word with the principal and teacher. Alya gave them a thumb drive with a copy of all the information she had found, she had multiple copies, so that if they decided to pursue legal actions, they had evidence to back it up.

At school, Alya went to class while Sabine took Marinette M. Damocles' office to speak with him and Mme. Bustier, since the woman was decidedly absent from the room. She had barely sat down when Lila entered the classroom, spouting off some story about meeting Ryan Reynolds over the weekend. Alya barely suppressed her snide grimace before hiding it with a smile.

“Really, Lila? That’s amazing! Did you get any pictures? I would love to post them on my blog?”

Now that she was watching, she saw the girl flinch when asked for actual evidence before putting on a sugary sweet smile. “I didn’t get a chance, my phone died.”

“Oh that’s annoying. Where did you see him?” She asked, pulling up the movie star’s Twitter account. “Because you were here in Paris over the weekend but according to his social media, he was visiting his home town in Canada this week.”

Alya definitely saw the girl scowl that time. “Oh, he just said that so he could come here without anyone knowing. He’s researching a role here in Paris and I was showing him around until my mom called me home.”

“Didn’t you just say that your phone was dead?” That got the classes’ attention, as they had just heard the girl say that was the reason she hadn’t taken any pictures. Lila was about to spout some new excuse; but Alya, who was now channelling her inner Mme. Ramonte, raised a hand to cut her off.

“Don’t even bother coming up with another lie. I know you’re full of crap and it spills out of your mouth with every word you say. And before you try to accuse me of lying, taking Marinette’s side, or bullying you; I think you should know that I spent the majority of the weekend looking into everything you’ve told us.”

The entire class watched the Italian girl’s olive skin turn a sickly white. But Alya wasn’t finished, this girl had been attempting to do the same to Marinette that she had done to Gaia, Alessia, and Ludovica. And as her BFF, she was not going to stand aside and let that happen. “I have piles of evidence that you were never in Achu and have never met Prince Ali, you were just playing hookie. I’ve got evidence that you are perfectly healthy and have never suffered from any of the diseases or ailments that you’ve claimed to have since returning to school. I’ve also got evidence that you have never met any of the celebrities that you claim to know. That includes Ladybug.”

Not so surprising, Lila attempted to turn everyone against Alya by turning on the tears. “That’s not true! I would never lie about all of that. You’re just saying that because you’re mad at me for not getting the internship!”

When the class looked back at Alya, they were surprised to see her grinning like a fox. “Did I forget to mention exactly how I know you weren’t in Achu? Or how I know you're perfectly healthy and don’t know any of those celebrities you’ve claimed to be close to?”

She paused, mostly for effect before going in for the killing blow. “Your mom and I had a very in depth conversation yesterday when I ran into her outside the embassy. She wasn’t happy about your interviews on the Ladyblog, and she was confused as to why you were claiming to be Ladybug’s BFF when you’ve been telling her for months that she and Chat Noir were a couple of lazy, incompetent, and downright terrible heros; which was why the school was closed.”

If it were possible Lila paled even more before turning to run out the door. The door swung open just as she was reaching for the handle, and was met with an upset Mme. Bustier. “You are needed in the Principal's Office, young lady.” To the surprise of everyone there, Lila attempted to shove her way past their teacher. But the woman was faster and grabbed the girl by the arm in a firm grip before escorting her out of the room.

When the first bell rang a few minutes later, M. Harpele came in to act as the substitute until Mme. Bustier was finished with her meeting.

Marinette returned to class before their teacher did, smiling bright as the sun and visibly more relaxed than anyone had seen her in weeks. She sat down beside Alya and gave her a tight hug while whispering “thank you” over and over.

“I take it things went well for you instead of Lila?” Alya grinned.

Marinette giggled. “She tried convincing her mom that all of us were akumatized and were trying to ruin her life, but she wasn’t buying it. Especially when M. Damocles showed Mme. Rossi her school records. Mom demanded that Lila give a formal apology and confess everything to the class, or she would get the Board of Governors involved. When Mme. Rossi found out that Lila tried to get me expelled, she lost it and started talking about a catholic reformatory school in Italy. Lila looked like she was going to be sick when she heard that.”

“It’s not perfect, but it’s what she deserves.” Alya shrugged before looking Marinette in the eye again. “I’m really sorry, girl. You’re my BFF, I should have listened to you when you told me Lila was a liar.”

“No, I don’t expect you to listen to me every time. I just wanted you to check things out and make sure that you weren’t being taken advantage of.” Then her brow creased. “I’m curious, what brought all this on?”

“Let’s just say that I just got some much needed career advice.”

#alya redemption #lila salt #ml fic #lila karma #friendship #alya salt

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beardrabbles · 4 years ago

Text

rock solid bonds. pt. two

characters: zhongli, female reader, gimel ( geo hypostasis )

warnings: none

word count: 2,520

notes: well, this took me too dang long to get to! got caught up writing other things, but i hope it was worth the wait. i’m fleshing out a plot for this along the way, and i’m hoping it makes sense in the end! but for now it’s just fluff. lottsa fluff and semi-slow burn. thank you for reading!! you’re a treasure.

Even if you hadn’t arrived at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor the night before and formally signed your name on the contract Zhongli had meticulously drawn out, you would have kept to your word and arrived at Gimel’s island the next morning as promised. You had little with you, since you were reminded with a rather stony voice that this was meant to be an exercise in understanding and not an opportunity for battle. All you had in your little bag was a tightly wrapped lunch, a book and another vial of the concoction you had brought the day before — just in case.

No weapons. No hostilities.

You felt odd keeping your hulking claymore out of sight, but it was for the best. You weren’t looking to actively sabotage yourself, after all, and the arrangement wasn’t an awful one. All Zhongli had asked of you was to be civil towards the hypostasis and to sincerely make up for the damage you had caused. No matter how unintentional it had been, you knew it was right thing to do.

“Gimel?” You had considered hiding behind one of the walls and calling out, but concealing yourself now seemed like a silly idea. Although, calling out the element’s name to the open air felt just as silly.

The ‘ arena ’ was empty, the domineering shadows of the surrounding outcroppings shifting away as the sun rose higher over the horizon. You couldn’t feel the usual vibrations through your feet, and that only added to your concern. Every hesitant step took you closer to the center of the circle that made up Gimel’s home.

Was it still afraid? Or had it fled knowing you would be visiting more frequently? You wondered if it were possible for it to take up residence elsewhere and if that would, somehow, spoil both of the contrats you had agreed to. Hot panic was on the verge of squeezing you hard around the chest when you heard a sign behind you.

Startled, you let out a little squawk and whipped around.

“Mr. Zhongli!” You were partially relieved to see him, partially irritated that he had approached so quietly. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“I apologize for the fright.” He sounded genuine, but the fact that his gaze was trained on the center of the circle didn’t elude you. “When did you arrive?”

“Not even five minutes ago.” You smiled sheepishly. “Had a rough morning, but I’m here.”

“I can see that.” A fleeting smirk flickered across his features before he pursed his lips and cast his eyes around the arena. “And our friend?”

“Hasn’t shown up.” You shifted uneasily but masked it as adjusting the shoulder straps of your pack. “Can’t really blame it.”

“Time and patience. Sincerity. The wounds you’ve left won’t be healed so soon.” Reminded your companion. You sighed and slipped your pack from your bag.

“I know. I just — I want this to go well.” You huffed and sat down heavily, pack beside you. When you looked up and found you were the only one seated, you patted at the ground beside you. Zhongli blinked once, processed the request, then came to join you. You weren’t sure why, but it was amusing watching a man so tall and proper folding his legs as he settled down. Yet he didn’t look the least bit out of place, his serene expression matching the gentle whisper of the wind. In the growing light of day, he seemed to glow, as if soaking in the blooming heat of the sun like light-starved soil and warming rocks.

“If that is your true desire, then I believe all will go according to plan.” He assured you. You were mesmerized for a moment — was that optimism or confidence? You couldn’t tell, but both were appreciated.

“You’re really sure?”

“I have been around for a long time, and I like to believe that I have become quite adept at reading people. Although. . .” He paused for a moment, lips turning down. You leaned in.

“Although?”

“Hu Tao says I can be quite oblivious at times.” Zhongli admitted. You snorted, drawing his attention.

“I wouldn’t have guessed it. Wait, Hu Tao. Isn’t she the director of the funeral parlor? Doesn’t that mean she’s your boss?” You asked. Zhongli nodded once, and you continued. “She doesn’t mind you slacking off and comin’ out here to see Gimel?”

“I am merely a consultant. My services are required only when they are needed. When I have no work to attend to, I tend to wander.”

You hummed and leaned back on your hands, eyes up towards the brightening sky. “Do you wander out here a lot?”

“I’ve found myself visiting Gimel more often as of late.” Zhongli said with a sideways glance. You frowned and refused to peek in his direction purely out of guilt. “I like to check on them every now and again, just to see if they’re recovering properly.”

“I didn’t think they needed to recover.” You grumbled.

“Our world is no different than our mortal forms,” started Zhongli, “it can and will hurt if people aren’t careful. We can leave wounds. Look around you — these islands are proof. Gimel is no exception. While it is acceptable to harvest from a hypostasis, harvesting too frequently can leave it permanently damaged. It needs time to rest, to regrow. Tell me, did you notice anything strange the last time you fought it?”

You thought back for a moment, trying to recall the last battle you engaged the hypostasis in. It had been two days ago, you remembered. It had rained heavily in the area, leaving the ground muddy, the stone slick and the sands clingy. It had been both a blessing as a curse, or you’d thought that then. Thinking back, you did think it strange that the basalt pillars it created weren’t as strong as usual. You wanted to blame the rain, but that had hardly been your first encounter with it in the middle of a drizzle.

“I saw them crumbling. I thought it was the rain.” You finally answered.

“That is a logical assumption to make, but you are aware of the truth now.”

“Yeah, I am.” You slumped forward, elbows on your knees and chin held in your hands. “What about other people? What are we going to do if someone else comes here expecting to find Gimel?”

“We will give them the chance to change their mind.” Zhongli shut his eyes and took in a deep calming breath. “May I ask you something, Miss Y/N?”

“Sure. Go for it.” You shrugged and fell silent, allowing him the chance.

“Thank you. I hope I’m not being terribly invasive, but what were you doing before your contracts bound you?” The question was asked delicately, leaving you room to deny him an answer if it was one you were unwilling to give. And while it did surprise you, you weren’t sure that you had any reason not to answer.

“Honestly, nothing and everything. I didn’t have an actual job. I just sort of. . . did what people asked me to do. I ran errands, I lent a hand where it was needed, I’ve babysat.” You let out a small, bitter laugh. “Now I’m a servant for the damn——!”

You clamped your lips shut and shrank into yourself. Without looking, you knew Zhongli was staring sharply in your direction.

“For whom?”

“Does it matter?” You pulled your knees up and scowled into them. A moment quietly slid past, and you still felt his eyes on you. His piercing gaze bore a hole in the walls you had abruptly thrown up, and you found yourself squirming uncomfortably. “Fine, it’s the Treasure Hoarders.”

“I had ventured a guess, but I wanted to hear you say it.” Zhongli sighed through his nose. “Have they hurt you or your family?”

“No.” You shook your head. “Not yet.”

“You anticipate a change?” He wondered.

“I’ve never known them to be totally honest. They’re a small group with a dumb name, but they’re loyal to their leader. Well, both leaders. The guy in charge thinks that if he can get me to find all these treasures for him, he can present them to whoever’s above him in the ranks and get himself a lovely, safe position in the group.” You scoffed. Zhongli arched a brow.

“You seem to know an awful lot about this mans intentions.” He pursued carefully. At this, you allowed the barest hint of a simper appear.

“He’s an idiot. He talks loud because he thinks it makes him intimidating. It only makes him look like a moron when he tells everyone within hearing distance what his plans are.”

Zhongli couldn’t help but to chuckle. “Am I to assume he is. . . how have I heard it phrased before? Ah, right. All brawn and no brains.”

It was your turn to laugh now, but the sound was a surprise when it left you. Despite your first encounter with him being tense and awkward, you realized now just how at ease you were around him. He radiated peace and understanding, calmness and patience. Lately, those were all feelings you had seen a distinct lack of. Where the Treasure Hoarders were brusk and unforgiving, Zhongli aimed to educate and reshape.

You wouldn’t have assumed for a moment that you would find yourself casually talking to him after all that had happened the day before, but you were glad for it.

“He is.” But as you both fell into a comfortable silence, you began to grow curious about the man beside you. You didn’t want to shatter the quiet you two had created, but the realization that you wouldn’t have many days like this with him prompted you to turn towards him and devote all of your attention to him. “When did you meet Gimel?”

Zhongli was taken aback, and you couldn’t help but to wonder if he had become too comfortable simply sitting next to you. His amber eyes fluttered, then grew distant, as if peering at something in the far-flung distance.

“I don’t believe it’s an exaggeration to say I’ve known them my whole life.” He started. “I can’t seem to think of a time when I haven’t known them. The form has changed, but they’re still the same.”

“Sounds like you’ve always been connected. Guess that explains the Geo Vision.” You leaned back to glance at the crystal attached to his coat. He turned his head to look over his shoulder, but realized he couldn’t see it. Instead, he settled for admiring you and the way your eyes shone when you glimpsed his faux Vision.

“Do you have one?” He asked.

“No.” You sighed loudly and fell back, laying across the stone and resting your hands on your stomach. “Visionless! Not worthy. Haven’t done anything in my life that warrants the gods blessing me.”

“I don’t believe that.” Zhongli frowned, his stony expression marred momentarily by disapproval. “Lacking a Vision does not make a person unworthy.”

“But it does make the people that have one super special, right?”

“I. . .” Zhongli stopped, made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, then rerouted his thoughts. “You don’t believe you’re special?”

“Not at all. Do you?”

“Do I what? Believe I am special because I have a Vision, or do I believe that you are special?” His counter question was sudden and took you aback, like a sudden slap to the face. You gaped, and when you didn’t answer, he dared to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” You huffed.

“Your face. It turned the most interesting shade of red just then.” The smile he passed you was soft and kind with the faintest trace of amusement. You felt your cheeks burn hotter and quickly turned away to hide it, but it was too late. “Don’t be so quick to dismiss yourself. I sense potential in you.”

Your stomach knotted and your lungs were madly aflutter, all thanks to those words. Out of habit, you wanted to deny him, but the tender way he spoke was too reassuring not to latch onto.

“You’d be the first to.” You spared him a quick, embarrassed glance. “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it. It costs nothing to build a person up.” He reminded. You frowned, but not out of unhappiness. There was now a solid, burning determination in your eyes that Zhongli barely glimpsed when you stood. “What are you up to?”

“You just said that it doesn’t cost anything to build a person up. It should be the same for elements, right?” You grinned broadly, then cupped your mouth with your hands. “Gimel! I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can, I want you to know that I’ve always thought you were really amazing looking!”

You paused, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Looking down your shoulder, you found Zhongli nodding approvingly.

“You, uh. . . Actually, if I’m being honest, I’ve seen a few hypostasis! I’ve seen the ones in Mondstadt, and the one in Dragonspine! You were always the one I was the most excited to see, even if it was to come fight you. You’ve been the toughest too. And I’m sorry!” You enthusiastic shouting was met with silence, but you thought for a moment that you felt the ground beginning to vibrate again.

As quickly as the sensation came, it left again, leaving the bottoms of your feet feeling numb. Had the hypostasis acknowledged you, or had you mistaken your quickly beating heart and rushing blood for the thrum of an elemental life force?

Your shoulders drooped, and your chest felt heavy.

“Don’t lose hope. I think what you said was lovely.” Zhongli encouraged. You sat down again and dragged your pack forward, drawstrings loosened.

“Thanks. I know you’re right. I know it’s going to take more than just saying nice things to fix what I did, but I’m going to do it. Even if we hadn’t made that contract, I’d be here.” You pulled out the lunch you had brought with you and carefully unwrapped it. “But all that shouting made me hungry, and we’ll be here for a little while longer. You want some? I made it myself.”

Zhongli made to shake his head, but you gave him a stern glare before he could.

“Don’t even. You need to eat too, you know.” You portioned out your food, placed it in his hand, then giddily began to scarf down your half. Zhongli felt an odd stirring in his chest as he glanced down at the food you’d prepared. You misunderstood the sudden admiration and gratitude for hesitation, so you nudged him gently. “I’m not the best cook in the world, but I’m not bad either! Trust me, it’s decent.”

“It smells wonderful.” Zhongli bowed his head. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it! Quick, eat it up before it gets cold.” You paused your chewed and pocketed the bite in your cheek. “I can bring something tomorrow too if you end up liking that. Sound good?”

Zhongli nodded, and the feeling in his chest grew more agitated. “I look forward to it.”

#zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #s: rock solid bonds #( these are all going to be silly dumb things until things happen )#( chucks this and rUNS )

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depressedacadamia · 3 years ago

Text

How do you passive aggressively say ‘Fuck you’ in flower? Part III

Summary: New owners, new friendships and new beginnings... but maybe there's a linger of old history there aswell.

A/N: Helloooo!! It's writers month starting August so I've posted all the prompts and there are also the fandoms you can request. Please send a request, its always fun to interact with the readers and hear what content you want to see!! That said, here is chap 3!! I hope you enjoy and make sure you comment and enjoy!! <3 from phi phi!!

Read on A03 Read part I on Tumblr Read part II on Tumblr

Will couldn't believe his luck. Of all the things he could have been told, it had to be this.

He held the printed note in between his thumb and forefinger as he grumpily read aloud the note hidden inside the fortune cookie. Calypso looked excited as her hands gripped the side of the table with passion.

“So? What does it say? Are you going to marry skull boy and live happily ever after with a cat?”

Wills scowled. “ No, that’s ridiculous. I hate cats. Maybe a dog. Or a goldfish.”

“Yeah, but goldfish don't live for as long as a cat could,” Calypso pointed out, her pinky finger pointing towards Will. “Now read. I want to hear your fortune.”

“Ugh. You aren’t hesitant to take what you want but sometimes you lack intuition; try and be more intuitive."

Calypso looked at him, with disappointment ranging across her face before shrugging and returning to her food. Will, who was expecting a much larger reaction, was offended.

“Excuse me? You begged to hear my fortune and now you just ignore it? You’re a terrible friend. I bet you wouldn’t run into a fire to save me.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t.”

Will gasped. Calypso continued her sentence, with an overall sense of coolness. “ I’d send the fucking fire patrol, police, moutaion resucuers, heck, I’d send the grandma next door to me if she had even a slim chance of getting you out of there.”

“Awwww, You do love me!”

Calypso grunted. “It’s only because I refuse to let anything other than myself kill you. Now stop hugging me and scram; you’re ruining my course of digestion with how hard your arms are wrapped around my stomach.”

But Will refused to oblige as he wrapped his arms around his best friend's stomach, listening to her complaints and completely ignoring them.

“What do you think it means?” Calypso spoke over a mouthful of food.

“What?”

“The fortune cookie thingy. What do you think it means?”

“It means I should be more intuitive, that's what it said.”

Calypso facepalmed, now understanding why the fortune cookie told her best friend what it told them. Even to the most oblivious person, it was obvoius that what the fortune cookie had told Will was not to simply be more intuitive but instead to -as the author would say- Open your fucking eyes and see what’s in front of you . But, as the author, I can tell you that William Andrew Solace is such an oblivious character that if I were to shout that at him, he would simply stare at whatever was sitting in front of him.

The next Saturday

“Are they coming?” Meg tugged on Will’s sleeve. “ Will, are they going to come today?”

It had seemed that, surprisingly enough, Meg had taken a great liking to Will’s so-called new ‘friends’ and in particular- Nico, which just so happened to be perfect for Will. It was already terrible that Will had to deal with them showing up only once in his beloved shop, let alone the idea that they may come again the next weekend and ruin it entirely for him, like the previous.

“I don’t know Meg, why do you care?” Will asked, his tone slightly agitated, out of all the people who had visited him at the shop, Meg just had to take a liking to these.

“Because that Nico guy is super cool. But don’t tell him I said that- and you guys can’t make out in my shop, no matter how cool he is.”

“This isn’t your shop and it isn't Calypso’s either, Dya know that, right?” Will reminded Meg as she went on about the new customers.

A sharp jab, that Will could now confidently identify to be Calypso’s elbow, hit his side. “Oi, What do you mean it ain't my shop- it basically is. It’s not like the previous owner ever cared about it.”

Will’s ears perked up at the words ‘previous owner’. “What do you mean Previous owner? Do they not own it anymore?”

“Did you not hear?” Calypso stopped braiding the rose into Will’s hair after seeing his surprised expression. “ We have a new owner. They offered the old one loads, and I mean loads of money for this shop. Apparently it’s this young sophisticated woman who just throws money whenever she wants.”

“Why do you sound so happy?”

Calypso’s finger’s in Will’s hair stopped braiding for a second. “What do you mean why do I sound so happy? We have a new rich owner. That means we will get better conditions. Imagine all the better quality wrapping we can get for the bouquets!”

“But if they're the kind of person to just throw money about, will they really take care of what's theirs? Or will they just send their own cronies to keep everything tidy, while paying them the minimum possible? And in this case, those cronies are us!”

“You’re imagining the worst of the new owner.”

“No, I’m not! Why am I the only one who hates the idea of a new owner!” Will yelled, grabbing the rose in his hair and ripping it out, throwing it at the entrance of the door. Will wasn't one to raise his voice but he couldn’t help but feel frustrated- why was everything changing so much!

Maybe it was fate, maybe it was destiny, or maybe Will was just that unlucky, but in that very moment, Nico and his friends all walked in.

It seemed they had all been causally conversing as they walked in.They were quickly silenced by whatever was occurring within the florist; Percy was halfway through grinning and dropping his jaw at Will's sudden outburst. Afterall, the last time he had seen Will this agitated was in middle school when he stole Will’s plastic stethoscope that his father had supposedly gotten him.

“Are we interrupting?'' Frank asked. He may have been on Nico’s side but he figured that perhaps barging in on an argument wasn’t the most respectful thing one could do.

“Trouble in paradise?” Nico smirked as he picked up the ruined rose that Will had thrown to the floor in a rage. He twirled in between his fingers and looked at the shade of pink; he glanced back at Will and decided it greatly complimented his skin tone and the cute blush he’d get whenever he was angry.

He frowned at the ruined rose and placed it on the counter before walking back to Will.

“The trouble only started when you set foot into this shop,” Will retorted, very much unappreciative of his presence at this moment. He still couldn't believe that the shop was getting a new owner! Sure, the old one had barely shown up and basically left Calypso entirely in charge but how could Calypso be so casual about it?

Nico ignored his attempt at a snide comment and walked past him, gesturing with his finger to follow behind him. “I want a flower. The one you threw. What was it, a Rosa Ausrumba?”

Will, slightly surprised that Nico had managed to identify the binomial name for the rose, raised his eyebrow. “Yeah.. how did you know?”

Nico shrugged, not offering an explanation as Will went ahead and fetched him a packaged gentle hermione rose. As he handed it over, he couldn’t help but let his mind wonder who the rose was for. It was a soft pink, the same type of rose that Calypso insisted he wear everytime he worked at the shop. Will knew that pink roses symbolised a lot of things but the question was, what exactly?

Was there anyone Nico knew who he’d give that rose to? It wouldn’t make sense for it to go to Leo, afterall, it wouldn't compliment his hair or skin tones: rather, it could work with someone like Hazel- since she was his sister, it would make sense for Nico to give it to her.

Calypso had always forced Will to wear that species of pink rose because she said that he had the hair for it and his blush and the colour of the rose were indistinguishable but most of all, it was the friendly gesture she had made when he first started working there.

He felt Nico’s fingertips brush against his as he handed the rose and a jolt of electricity sparking between them.

Shit, static shock.

“Ow!” Will jerked back, dropping the rose and rubbing his hand. He was about to ask Nico what the hell before he realised that the rose was on the floor. It wasn’t like the rose was going to be ruined or destroyed now it was on the floor or that it particularly angered Will to see the rose there. It simply saddened Will so much that he felt compelled to pick it up; maybe it was because he was so used to being forced into wearing it everyday or maybe because it was meant to be Nico’s, either way, he bent down to retrieve the flower.

It seemed that Nico had the same idea because their heads collided and Will was sent stumbling backwards onto his butt.

“Ow!” He cried again, rubbing his head. Nico felt his eyes widen at Will’s words and quickly he grabbed the rose and kneeled in the space between Will's legs, with his hand scanning Will’s face of any injury.

“Are you okay?”

Will frowned at the considerate question, wondering if Nico was mocking him or not. “Why do you care?”

That question threw Nico off guard. Why do you care? Why did he care? That was a good question he had yet to ask himself. Why did he care so much about Will? Why did he decide to come back? Every week nonetheless.

“No reason.” Nico shrugged. ” I just wanted to make sure your clumsy ass didn’t break anything.”

“Your head hit mine!”

“Yeah but it was you who decided to go after my flower,” Nico argued, clutching the rose in his hand. He started peeling off the wrapping until he had the rose alone in his hand.

“What the hell are you doing? You haven’t paid for it yet!”

Nico ignored him as he handed Will the rose. Obviously, Will took the rose from Nico’s hand and held it. Why did Nico want him to hold his flower for him?

“What?” Will was confused. “Why am I holding your flower?”

“Because I gave it to you.”

“To do what with?” Will inquired, his eyes oblivious. For someone who slept around, Will was not one who knew much about romantic rituals.

Murmuring something under his breath, Nico tilted his face away and let the loose strands of his black hair fall over his eyes elegantly. Will didn’t know if he had hit his head too hard but he could have sworn that Nico was slightly blushing.

“What? I didn’t catch that.”

“I said,” Nico took a dep breath, “The flower is for you and your stupid hair.”

Will must have looked relatively confused because Nico kept on talking. “Because you wear one whenever you work here? And when you threw a fit, you also threw your rose and it got ruined.”

Will, dumbfounded, simply stared at Nico. It wasn’t like he could braid his hair right here; Was this where Will was meant to thank him?

“Uh… thank you? I mean I could have easily gotten Callie to do my hair again but thanks anyway.”

Will realised that he was still sitting on the floor and immediately got up, still clutching the rose firmly in his hand, like he was afraid that the wind may just carry it off and he may never see it again.

In silence, him and Nico walked back to the counter, where surprisingly enough, everyone was getting on quite well. Percy and Frank were challenging Piper and Hazel about some vague petty thing,while Leo and Annabeth spoke to Calypso and Jason told Meg about Nico.

Annabeth had noticed quite quickly that Calypso had a crush on Leo and it seemed that Leo was aware as well. However, despite that, he didn’t let it get in the way of the conversation or the potential for a very beautiful friendship. He didn't like Calypso in that way. It was true that he had many previous lovers both men and women but Calypso was his friend, nothing more.

Nico noticed that Will was simply holding the rose and not wearing it like he intended him to.

“Why aren't you wearing the rose?”

Will stuttered, his face burning up slightly from embarrassment. “I..uh,well...I can’t really, um, braid my hair.”

Will was waiting for the insult. For a laugh, maybe a jeer. Instead he was surprised by the reaction that met him.

“I do. Give me the rose and sit in that chair.” Nico pointed to the chair behind the counter. Will, oblivious as ever, took a seat. He didn’t expect to feel familiar hands working on his hair. It felt like deja vu, feeling Nico’s fingers weave themselves into his hair, it felt like they were in that storage room all over again, making out on the small couch.

Wondering if Nico was also reminiscing that moment, he turned his head ever so slightly and caught Nico’s eye.

Nico turned Will’s head. “Stay still, I can’t do your hair if you keep on moving.”

Do my hair? He’s going to do my hair?

Will anxiously sat in the chair, fiddling his hands as Nico sectioned his hair into 3 parts and slipped the stem of the rose into one of the sections. He began braiding Will’s hair, slowly softly, dare I even say- Lovingly.

Will almost shivered when he felt Nico’s fingertip graze his scalp. His fingers braided like magic and within a matter of seconds, it felt like he had finished. Nico walked in front of Will to have a look at his handiwork from the front and reached forward. His finger brushed the side of Will’s ear and for a second, Will thought that Nico was going to gently cup his cheek and kiss him.

Instead, he reached and pulled free a small lock of hair from the front of his face so it dangled elegantly and complemented the rose that lay in his hair.

Will gulped. “ How did you learn to do hair?” His voice was extremely hoarse.

Nico’s voice seemed lower when he spoke. “My sister. I used to do her hair sometimes when we were at camp.”

Will nodded absent mindedly and focused on why his heart was beating so fast. The only reasons he knew why his heart would ever beat fast near a person would be if they scared him, forced him to exercise or if he had just slept with them.

Since Nico hadn't made him run, and they weren't sleeping together and Nico didn't make him fear for his life (yet), he was purely confused as to why his heart felt like it was a butterfly fluttering and any second, his ribcage may burst open and let it fly away and with it, his heart.,

He stared at the back of Nico’s head as he walked back to his friends who were now arguing about the difference between a white and an ivory rose.

Will did not not see Nico on Sunday at the flower shop. Nor did he see any of his friends.

Friday, Next week.

“Will, put that beer bottle down!” Calypso yelled, her entire state chaotic. There was flour everywhere and Will couldn’t tell where the kitchen started and where the mess ended.

This is what happened when he offered to babysit.

It was one thing to babysit a teenager or perhaps a 10 years old but a 7 years old? A seven year old and a 5 year old? A combination from hell itself. Overly energetic, disrespectful and disobedient, seven years olds were the worst kind of children to babysit.

It had started a while ago when his mother’s friend who’s name actually was Karen had to leave in a rush for some emergency (although Will had highly doubted it) and left her kids with Will's Mother. Being the wonderful woman she was, Will’s mother held onto them for as long as she could but she had a job, as most people did and unfortunately it was a job that required her to not enjoy her Friday nights.

This had led to her leaving the children with Will. Afterall, he was a responsible adult.

Okay fine, scratch the responsible part. She had left the children with Will because Calypso had promised to be there and in all blatant honesty, it was obvious that without Calypso, Will would be the biggest mess out there.

It seemed, however, that babysitting children was harder than both of them had anticipated.

“Callie, I give up. These kids are the devil's spawn. If they die, then tough luck for them.”

Calypso groaned and slammed her head onto the table before perking up with excitement. She grabbed her phone and dialed a number. Will overheard a vague conversation and simply watched, very confused.

Calypso set her phone down. “Okay so I have figured out how to fix this.” She pointed to the massive mess in their apartment.

“How?”

“You’ll see.”

Will didn’t trust the mischievous smile that came across Calypso’s face.

Nico was chilling on his bed with his phone in his hand, hovering above his face. He did not really have much to do so here he was, scrolling through social media. He was meant to be doing something with Percy or Jason or maybe Hazel- he really couldn’t remember and he couldn’t care less.

That was until he overheard a conversation from Jason that he could only describe as interesting. Only a few minutes later, Percy showed up very begrudgingly muttering I’m only coming because I wanna see where the little fucker lives.

As far as Nico was concerned, there was only one person who Percy called ‘the little fucker’ and why were Jason and Percy paying him a visit?

“Wait-” Nico threw his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up.”-Where are you guys going?”

“Calypso’s place. She needs some help babysitting? Or something like that. Annabeth’s call was kinda vague.”

“You’re going to Calypso’s place because Annabeth told you to?” Nico tilted his head, confusion evident in his voice. Jason took a deep breath before explaining.

“Calypso called Piper who gave the phone to Annabeth who called me to tell us and Hazel to go to Calypso’s place and help her and Will with whatever they needed help with.”

“Why is Will at Calypso’s place?”

Percy quickly interjected. “ They live together.”

That statement alone was enough to make Nico choke on the air he was trying to peacefully breathe.

“They what?” He managed to wheeze from in between the heavy coughs that racked from his chest.

“They live together,” Jason repeated innocently. “ Why?”

“Yeah,” Percy smirked, figuring out the reason behind Nico’s coughing fit. “ Why do you care, Nico?”

“No reason. It’s just a bit out of the blue.”

“So you don’t deny that you care!” Percy yelled excitedly pointing his finger at Nico. Nico grabbed it and twisted it with such ferocity, there was a crack and Percy let out a cry and pulled his finger back pouting, blowing on it like it was a hot dish.

“I twisted your finger, stop blowing on it like it’s a hot potato and let's hurry up and go please,” Nico groaned, rolling his eyes at Percy’s dramatic overreaction.

Percy, under his breath, murmured,” Somebody’s desperate.”

Nico slapped his shoulder.

When Will opened the door to his apartment, he didn't really know what he was expecting. Maybe someone like Thalia Grace or Reyna- a close friend of Calypso.

He certainly was not expecting his arch nemesis and his cronies to show up. He wasn’t in the best state of mind and he felt like any moment now, his feet may fail and he’d be out cold on the floor.

What was worse was the fact that Hazel had already arrived- without Frank as he said he ‘wasn’t the kind who liked children’. So now Will was here having to behave himself as if he were some host and they were his guest

His brain told him that this was exactly what this was.

But another part of Will didn’t agree. It was more, there was some more sinister motive behind why they were here. Sure, Annabeth had told them to come and god forbid someone disobey Annabeth but they clearly came here with their own reasons. Whether all their reasons were the same or not, Will did not know.

“What do you want?” Will deadpanned as he held the door halfway open- just like his eyelids. He was already considering shutting it in their faces. However, it seemed that Nico wasn’t having any of it as he simply pushed his way past Will, into the half cleaned up apartment.

“Oh, Nico! You’re here!” Hazel whisper-called out from the living room . She had the 5 year old’s head resting on her lap as it dozed off and the seven year old lay next to her, their eyes drifting off to sleep.

“Yeah, I’m here. What about it?”

“I thought you might want to cook something? I’m really hungry and I’m pretty sure Calypso’s been running around on an empty stomach trying to keep 2 children and a drunk person under control.”

Nico paused before wrinkling his nose. He walked forward to Will and moved his blonde hair out of his face to get a better view of his eyes.

“You’re drunk?” Nico looked around the kitchen and spotted the beer bottles. “Jesus, are you a lightweight or something? This shit ain’t even strong,” Nico grunted as he grabbed a very much incoordinate Will to the kitchen and sat him down at the counter. He got him a glass of water and rolled his sleeves up before quickly sifting through the fridge and cupboards.

“What happened to him?” Percy asked, walking slightly at the blushing Will sitting at the counter sipping water out of a straw.

“Hehee, Nico has very warm arms.” Some water dribbled out from the side of Will’s mouth as he giggled.

“He’s… wasted?” Jason squinted his eyes. “ I thought people with blue eyes were meant to have the highest tolerance to alcohol.”

“Nooooo,” Will whined. “ That’s not it. Blue eyed people are moree likeleyyy to have a dependency on alcohol. We did this in class-”

He was cut off by his own hiccup.

“Fucking hell,” Nico muttered as he pulled out ingrediants. Hungrily, Jason and Percy eyed the food.

“Whatcha making?” Percy asked, slinging his arm over Nico’s shoulder. Immediately, Will got out of his seat, objecting to this. However, before he could do this, he tripped and fell on his butt and in turn knocked his head into the floor. He was out cold within seconds.

“Did he just pass out?” Percy asked, poking at Will’s body with his foot only for Nico to be outraged and push Percy with such vigour, he ended up splayed onto the floor. He quickly kneeled beside Will and shook him gently, trying to wake him up.

“Flower boy? Hey, wake up. Will? Get up. Get up right now Will.” Nico began shaking him, his voice starting out in small quiet whispers. The alarm in Nico’s voice called over Calypso who batted her hand and laughed.

“Oh you have nothing to worry about. He does this everytime he gets too drunk. He’s a real lightweight, trust me.”

After much chaos and argument, everyone calmed down and Nico got cooking. As someone who was majoring in food tech, Jason and Percy would always make him cook meals for them. While Nico always pretended to be bothered and annoyed by this, he secretly loved it, meaning that he could make his friends smile with something he also loved- food.

Sure, he sometimes skipped meals or didn’t have time to actually eat, but he was constantly surrounded by food and making it was so chaotic but he enjoyed it and he enjoyed the rush of serotonin he’d get when he tasted the final dish.

“Food’s ready!” Nico called from the kitchen. Will had been moved to the sofa because Calypso had been told that under no circumstance was anybody to ever go into Will’s bedroom. Jason came in to the table and started laying it, as their usual routine went. Percy brought cups and Hazel, who normally did not dine with them, was talking to Calypso. They took their seat at the table and waited for the boys to finish laying it and serving food.

Nico glanced at Will who was dozing off on the couch peacefully. “ Is he not going to join us?”

Calypso shook her head. She knew when Will was feeling the way he was today, the only thing he could do was sleep it off. Nico had to admit, he was disappointed; he was hoping to see Will’s reaction when tasting the food. In fact, he had put extra effort into making it perfect just based on the possibility that Will may have been joining them for dinner.

They ate silently, with only the sound of the occasional collision of the fork against the plate echoing into the apartment.

“This is a nice place…” Percy started, trying to ease some of the tense silence away. Calypso gave him a short nod.

“Yes. It’s mine- Will and I share it.”

“Why?” Nico asked, his jealousy overtaking his actions. Was he really at liberty to ask such a question? No. Was he going to anyway? Absolutely.

Calypso raised an eyebrow at the question, while she slowly raised the fork to her mouth. “Does it matter why?”

Nico, staring at his food, paused. “No,” He sighed. “ I guess it doesn’t.”

Hazel, who wasn't allowing this, quickly intercepted. “It doesn't matter but that doesn't mean we wouldn’t like to know? Right guys?”

“Yeah!” Percy agreed a bit too passionately. “Tell us Calypso. How is it that you- someone of your high standards is living with somebody like… Will.”

Percy's abrash statement was rewarded with a hard smack to the back from the Italian boy sitting next time, glaring at him enough daggers for Percy to become Pinhead. Percy, midway swallowing, began coughing frantically which despite the urgency of the situation earned no sympathy from Nico who sat there as Percy choked and Jason gave violent slaps on his back.

“Ugh, well. We’ve known each other…” Calypso stopped. “ Are you sure you’re okay?”

Percy, almost red in the face, nodded frantically and mimed with his hands to keep talking. Jason reached over and poured Percy another glass of water.

“Uh, well… We work together but we’ve known each other for a long time.”

“How long? I don't remember Solace ever mentioning you.”

Calypso smiled slightly. “ If I’m correct, you two weren't and still aren't really on the kinds of terms where you discuss your personal life.”

“Still… I would have thought that… forget it.”

The awkwardly silent dinner continued with the clanking of cutlery against plates. Secret glares were passed along with uncomfortable shivers but all in all, the dinner managed to run smoothly. The guests helped clean up and finally, late into the night, they stood at the door awkwardly, as Calypso dismissed them.

“Are the children… staying?” Hazel innocently inquired, her eyes falling on the small children who lay asleep on the sofa behind Calypso.

Calypso scratched her head- slightly unsure herself. “Uh, I guess. Until they get picked up at least.”

“Oh… I guess I should stay to help out then?”

“No! Please, I don't want you to ruin a good night's sleep over this. I’m sure I can handle this. It wouldn’t be the first time.” Calypso reached for the door. “Get home safely.”

Jason and Percy, who realised that they were no longer welcome, did not hesitate to leave- the same couldn’t be said for Nico.

He didn’t know why he was hesitating- it wasn't as if Calypso and him were friends in any way. However, it seemed that for some odd reason there was a connection between the two that they both strongly cared for a certain blond headed lightweight. But they also both cared for a certain grinning engineer who spoke Spanish.

With his hand shoved in his pockets, he slowly turned his heel as if a magnet from afar was tugging on the metal heartstrings with his heart. His head was bowed towards the floor as he muttered the words under his breath.

“Tell him to call me when he wakes up tomorrow… We should probably talk and get everything out of the way.” Nico’s hair fell in front of his face, his eyes darting anywhere but Calypso’s face as to avoid her seeing his expression.

“Are you dating Leo?”

The abrupt question had Nico’s head snapping upwards so fast that I- the author- feared that he may have broken his neck had he moved any faster. The obvious answer was ‘no’. They had broken up long before Nico had even known someone like William Andrew Solace even existed; however, he didn't know if he could give such an honest answer so freely.

It was clear that Calypso was not just asking Nico this question for the sake of fun. She liked him.

And for some reason, Nico did not like that.

Leo wasn't his. He had his own feelings and decisions to make. But Nico didn't think she could handle the idea of Calypso being able to have both Will and Leo in her life- whether any of the relationships were platonic or not.

He had Leo, she had Will. It was only fair that it should stay that way.

But that said- If, if, he ever dated Will… would he give up Leo for the sake of fairness? Life isn't meant to serve everyone with equality. You get what you get and the rest you must fight for; Life was clearly a capitalist.

“Why does it matter to you?”

“Because,” she paused as if her reasoning was obvious. “If you are, I can’t let you play with Will or Leo like that.”

Nico snarled. “ Who said I was playing with either?”

“Isn't that what it's called? When you date two different people behind their backs?”

“I’m not dating Leo!” He yelled in frustration. Perhaps it was the wine. Or watching Will pass out on the floor and Percy poking him with his foot like an animal. Or maybe it was the fact that Will never tasted the food, but for some reason whether it was unbeknownst or not, Nico snapped. “Happy?”

Calypso smiled. “Very.”

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