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itstheghostofmypast · 15 days ago

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S♡CKER P♡NCH

Boxer AU Choi San x Reader

Summary: No labels, no commitment, no real relationship. A lone wolf who could throw anyone across the ring until his love for boxing shifted to the love for his little daisy.

Genre: Hurt + Comfort

Rating: PG-17

Warnings: Making out, language.

Word Count: 2.1 K

Est.Read Time: 10 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

A/N: I'd like to blame @edenesth for sending me that one real- man. I'm weak for this man.

After a deep groan the boxer sighed, staring up at the bright light of the ring, the world around him blurring into twos and threes, hazy and foggy, the world around him turning into distant memory but the persistent, ear piercing ringing in his head had his conscious hold onto some form of reality.

A familiar voice caught his attention, his eyes slowly trailing to the fuzzy shadow, the sweet voice cutting through the loud ringing. A muffled whisper was all he caught before blacking out,

“Sannie!? Wake up!”

The thumping at the back of his skull pulled him out of his blackout, slowly opening his eyes, staring up at the dark shaky ceiling - oh, he was in the van. Did Wooyoung pick him up? Did he carry him? Closing his eyes, he sighed, the memories match he had won, not one of his finest ventures. In fact, he had been so distracted that he really did think he was going to lose, mid way on the bench he had asked Wooyoung if he could tap out, only for his manager/best friend to whisper back, “Ya dumb? Ya gotta win this to prove to her you're a strong one! Get her that ring you want with tonight's money!”

The ring, that's what, led his large best friend back into the ring with a new sense of determination. Sure, images of her flashing across his mind, trying to focus on nothing but her, especially the last memory of her, when she was the more upset with him than he had ever seen. He knew he had to make it up to her. He had to prove to her that he wasn't weak. He was part of the big leagues now, and he knew what he was doing. And he did, with one final kick the man had won, stumbling back when Wooyoung braced him steady-temperedily with a hand on the back of the boxer, declaring his victory. It was after that when he completely blacked out, somehow hearing the melody of his daisy.

“Instead of yapping at me, tend to him would ya?” The driver mumbled, earing a scoff from the woman behind the curtain, ripping it open so she could glare at him, “This is all your fault!”

“No, this is your fault.” Backrest the brakes at the stop sign he turned his head to glare at her, “If you didn't challenge his capabilities-”

“I'm his doctor! He was already exhausted! I wasn't challenging him! I was giving him MEDICAL ADVICE!”

“I'm his manager! I know what he can and can not do and-”

“HE HAD A DEATH WISH!”

“SO WHAT!?”

“I LOVE HIM, YOU BASTARD!”

The loud horn blaring behind them had Wooyoung sprint into action, stepping on the gas as the whole van shook, causing ; her to lose her balance and topple over and to land in a firm pair of arms, that tightened around her when Wooyoung's rash driving had him hopping lane to lane to find a quick pit stop.

“Slow down, Woo.” He mumbled, voice hoarse and heavy, possibly due to the fatigue, though his words were firm, “There's no need to rush, I feel fine.” Of course, his best friend was rushing to find some form of place to stay, he was worried about him, sure they had her, a certified nurse, but she couldn't do much due to her limited resources.

“Are you sure?” The driver glanced at his rear view mirror, only to shake his head and sigh at the sight of the two love-struck fools staring at each other like that. It made him sick. To think he had seen this man throw men bigger than him around the ring, and now he was all putty in a frail, lousy tempered woman's arms. Rolling his eyes at the lack of response, he reached back to pull the curtain, deciding to give them time to ‘make up’ .

“You came?” San whispered, leaning down to brush his lips against her, trying to ignore the sting of the cut on his lower lip.

“Of course I did, you big dummy.” She mumbled, slowly pulling back and helping him recline against the DIY back rest they had made with an old cushion, “I was mad at your stupidity, didn't mean I wanted to leave you unattended when you'd get hurt.”

“Well, isn't my daisy a work of art.” Mumbled he reached over to gently grasp her hand, drawing gentle circles with his thumb on the back of her soft, smaller hand, “Thank you.”

“Don't thank me. You guys pay me for that.”

He pouted at her statement, sure it was true but that's because Wooyoung had originally hired her, they weren't a couple back then.

And even after the small mountain had constantly been expressing and hinting at his admiration for her, Wooyoung had insisted that the contract remain intact, which meant they needed to keep it professional.

Now, she was just saying this because of their lack of official titles- it was true, the boxer was head over heels for her, but was too afraid to take a step, what if he hurt her with his big calloused hands, or what if he crushed her with his brute being. It didn't matter what any fortune teller or shaman would claim, his Yin was much more suppressed because his choice of occupation- an occupation he was good at, an occupation he enjoyed, an occupation that helped him earn a living. One that he had used to get her a ring. Callbhim old fashioned, but he believed courting her for more than a year was enough. She deserved the proper treatment, one he'd gladly give her - now that he had convinced Wooyoung too.

“Yes but…you didn't need to come all the way there and-”

“Drop it.” She sighed, somewhat irritated by his romantic gestures, he'd do this often, be this tender with her, and then pull back as soon as she'd ask for something more, something that would make her bruised heart flutter.

Slowly, she got up, placing a hand on the roof to steady herself before making her way to the back of the van, grateful that he had not heard her confess her feelings for him to Wooyoung. Reaching for the cooler, she tipped over the lid, kneeling as she plucked out an icepack, a bottle of water, and an ice lolly.

He raised a brow at the choice of items she has returned with, “What's with the- ack!” He gagged at the intensity of the frozen treat hitting the back of his throat, hand instinctively reaching to grab the small end of the stick as he looked at her with an unpleasant expression Though it soon turned into a lopsided smirk when she sat between his spread out legs, frowning up at him and pressing the cold ice beside his eyebrow, mumbling an, “Idiot.”

His other arm looped around her waist, tugging her closer as he pulled out the lolly, “How'd you know I like pineapple?” He giggled pressing it to her lips, watching her slowly part her lips, taking in the treat as she maintained eye contact, watching his ears turn pink at the sight, his eyes widening in disbelief. Sure, they had flirted before but never like this.

The loud crunch caught his ears as she pulled back, with half the pop gone, as she licked her lips and frowned, “I was planning on having it later tonight.”

Whining at her, he pulled the mostly eaten treat, staring at what was left at the bottom before pulling it closer to inspect the bite marks, raising a brow at the sight, swallowing at the loss of romance. Okay, so she was still upset.

Just like that, the boxer had a wonderful idea, completely forgetting the third party present, currently eavesdropping on their conversation, or lack thereof. With one swift move, he bit into the remaining ice lolly, savouring the sweet taste before cupping her face and crashing his lips against hers.

A small squeak broke past her lips that were now occupied with his, her arms trailing up his chest to wrap around his neck, fingers caressing the base of his neck. He pulled her closer, palm flat on the small of her back as he used his other hand to hold her still, giving her a neck a little squeeze, tilting her head to have her part her lips, sharing the melted, sticky pineapple juice.

She pushed him away as she gasped for air, licking the remaining traces of the sugar off her swollen lips, staring at him with a hazed expression, matching his, much like his flushed face and heaving chest- the only difference was that he had that cocky smug look plastered on his handsome, bruised features, looking like a boy who had just won a race.

“I had to win tonight.” he whispered, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers, hand leaving her neck, shoving it in his pocket to look for something, before pulling it out, “Had to get ya this, paid the deposit, have to give the rest tomorrow.”

She gasped at the small velvet box in his hand, glancing up at him then down at the box, her heart racing against time as she took it with shaky hands, flipping open the lid, blinking at the diamond .

“Oh Sannie…why would you-”

“I can't hold back anymore, daisy. You punched me in the heart the moment I fell into your lap that night.”

Her face flushed at the memory of the fateful night they had met, with her sitting at a bus stop post midnight. Waiting for the bus, when a bruised man stumbled onto the platform, the blood on his knuckles dripped onto the concrete. At first she had tried to ignore the giant man, but they way he was swaying left and right for some tugged the strings of her heart, having her let out an, “Are you alright, Sir?”

That night, he had fallen unconscious in his daisy's lap, forever in debt to her, forever in love with her. Next morning he woke up on a warm bed, all patched up and cozy, with her tending to him after bringing him breakfast- a moment of peace, before he had called Wooyoung who then hired her on the spot.

“You're so stupid San…you didn't have to get me a ring- you could've gotten hurt- I just- you fainted and-”

“I love you too…by the way.” He watched her fumble with her words, cutting her off as be referred to the confession of hers a while ago, giving her a closed eye smile when he slipped the ring on her finger, tossing the box somewhere across the van. Both unaware that the van had come to a stop, as he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the back of her palm.

“Kiss me.”

“Wha-” his words cut short as she grabbed his face, much like he had early, only with more force, squishing his plump cheeks, forcing him to pout. This only riled him up further as he gently pushed her onto her back, hovering over her, deepening the kiss, making sure she could feel all the love he had pent up inside for so long. Her lips curled into a smile at his response, hands trailing up his broad back, feeling every ripple of each muscle, her body turning warmer at the way he'd sigh against her mouth. His own hands gripped her by the waist, dragging her closer, chuckling at the little noises she was making. Both lost in bliss, both lost in one another.

“EXCUSE ME, MY VAN IS NO PLACE FOR YOUR NASTY BUSINESS!”

The screech had her push him off her, instantly shivering as the crisp air of the night layering her skin with goosebumps. Their breaths came out in puffs, panting like a pair of teenagers caught in the janitors closet.

“We weren't…doing a-anything.” She huffed, sitting up and glaring at the manager who just scoffed in response, “Mhmmm…I definitely didn't see his tongue shoved down your throat.”

Whining at his snarky response, she pouted at her newly declared lover who gave her a cute smile, one that had her resisting the urge to attack his glistening lips once more. San shook his head at Wooyoung and crawled out of the van, turning to his lady, reaching out for her to help her out of the van, much like he always did, only this time, he boldly wrapped a jacket around her shoulders, before pulling her closer into his side, walking towards the motel Wooyoung had brought them too.

“YAH! This better not become a common practice!” The shorter man yelled at the boxer who's laugh bounced in the dark of the empty night, pulling his source of love and warmth closer, smiling down at her, only to receive a shy smile in return.

Wooyoung watched his best friend walk into the other room behind his lover, waving bye before closing the door, this bastard should be grateful he got them a separate room, more importantly he should be grateful that he had texted her to come quick when San was having his ass handed to him, knowing if there was one sole motivator for the boxer, it was his little daisy.

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25

@s-h-y-a @ateezwonderland

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bigbadvoxbox · 8 months ago

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Helllooo! I'm back with another ask

I was thinking a vox getting jealous because Valentino was being Valentino and flirting with (fem) reader and vox marking her up or something like that to just prove that reader is only his- sorry if this sounds confusing lol if it ain't coherent feel free to delete, hope u have a nice day tho!!

-🎶

I love this! I wish bad violent things on Valentino so getting to write him getting rejected and shit will be fun!

warnings: nsfw. possessive sex. also unprotected sex, which u shouldn't do. semi-public/public sex (in a limo). also valentino exists in this. i hate valentino, so im gonna warn u that he's even here. fuck u valentino. marking + biting. vox has kinda like an ownership (?) kink idk what the word is but he likes the concept of you belonging to him. also warning for valentino being a gross pervy scumbag who flirts with anything with a hole.

- It was meant to just be a quick drop by with Vox, as he had to quickly stop by Valentino's studio for a quick discussion. This was your first time actually meeting the infamous Valentino. Vox had never really wanted you to meet him, for reasons unknown, but today he had no choice but to bring you along to his brief meeting.

- It went exactly like he was dreading it would.

- "Where you been hiding this little chula, huh?" Valentino asked, taking the back of your hand, and planting what started off as a light kiss, but very quickly became a long lick, leaving you feeling confused, as well as a bit mortified.

- Vox was very quick to take a step between the two of you, his eye twitching as he tried his best to keep that smile on his face, needing to keep up his stupid little act of respect so that this obnoxious bastard of a man wouldn't throw a tantrum. Valentino has power that Vox can use, so he can't just yet show just how much he dislikes the moth-demon.

- The rest of that quick little chat felt like eternity, and Vox could not WAIT to get the fuck out of those studios. Hell, he was considering fucking the shit out of you right then and there just to show Valentino that he needs to fuck off. He wouldn't outright say anything, but he sure as shit would show Valentino who you belong to.

- You barely got out of the studio and back into Vox's limo when he pounced on you.

- "That prick. He needs to learn to keep his hands off what isn't his." he grumbled to himself as he made quick work of laying you back against the seat, hovering over you. Within no time, your neck was littered with marks and bites, Vox making an effort to make them as visible as possible. Bright and clear enough for even Valentino's blind ass to see.

- Pure jealousy was fuelling him at that moment, as well as possessiveness. He was gonna make sure no other lowlife fucker ever DARED to even think about touching you ever again. That was his job alone. You were HIS girl.

- Part of him considered leaving his name on you somewhere, somehow, but no. That could wait. It would be too rash a decision right now, he should wait until you could both decide on such a thing together when you were thinking clearly. He didn't know if you'd be okay with that, so he decided against it, but the thought definitely lingered in the back of his mind.

- While his hands trailed all over your body, touching and groping everywhere, feeling what's HIS, he revelled in the feeling of your hands on his body too. He knew you only had eyes for him, and that you were just as irritated by Valentino's actions as he was. That only spurred him on, and next thing you knew, the two of you were barely even clothed in the back of his limo.

- Vox had you practically in every position in the back of that limo. At first, he was hovering over you, and it was sweet, close, passionate, then, he turned you two around so he was drilling into you from behind, rough, sinful, and messy. He liked this position, it gave him the perfect view of your bodies joining together as he gripped your hips, while you gripped the car door for stability, your shared heavy breaths fogging up the windows.

- Finally, he had you in his lap, riding him. He sat up, your chests pressing together as he took this opportunity, so close to you, to leave deeper bites and marks, now extending from your neck to your jaw and shoulders, even low enough to your tits.

- The limo was definitely shaking.

- After a couple rounds, you both decided you had made enough of a mess for one day, and had successfully gotten both of your frustrations out of your systems.

- A knock at the limo window caught Vox's attention, and he rolled the tinted windows down a tad, quickly covering you with his shirt. It was Valentino on the other side.

- "You've been parked out here for a while. Thought you were busy?" he said in a snarky tone. Vox couldn't help but smirk slightly, quickly looking for your approval, before rolling the window down a tad more, exposing the mess you two had made, as well as you, now only covered by Vox's shirt, which thankfully covered enough, only leaving you exposed from the collarbones up and the thighs down, but left just enough on display for Valentino to very clearly see the art gallery of hickeys and bite marks that littered your body.

- "We were busy."

#hazbin hotel #voxbox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel smut #vox #i hate valentino #vox smut

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luimagines · 6 months ago

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Honor Among Gods

Ok. This is another purely indulgent thing.

Those who've been here a while would remember that there was once a character named Hesper. She is a demigod, daughter of Nyx.

My good friend @thesoftieanon made her and well... We went wild.

I'm not kidding. This is over 20 pages long. And I'm posting it not only to share one of my favorite short stories I've cowritten with someone since making this blog, but this is here for me because the formatting makes it easier to reread. XD

This is a universe where Hesper got paired with The Fierce Deity. It is naturally written in his point of view. Enjoy.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

When he was able to open his eyes again, he was undeterred by the sight of monsters and battle. He got right to work to take care of the problem, knowing that his host was desperate at best to eliminate these pests.

These monsters were stronger than he knew his host could handle. It didn’t take a genius to conclude this was why his help was required.

The boys around him were familiar forces at this point. He could feel them from a distance but now he had faces to the forces he could only remotely feel.

Except for one.

A young woman traveled with them at this point. She fought valiantly, growling back at the beast in front of her. She fought like none other he had ever seen before. She wore dark clothing and nearly rivaled his own height without the restrictions of his host. He couldn’t see her face from the cloth that covered every part of her body.

There was an energy about her. Something that called for his respect and devotion. She was nowhere near as overbearing as the Great Ones, but surely, unmistakingly one of them.

He was so distracted by the sight of someone new and different, that the monster, despite bleeding profusely from multiple gashes across its body, proceeded to knock her off her feet and drive its weapon into her shoulder.

The Fierce Deity sprang into action and body-slammed the creature without a second thought, finishing the beast with a solid swipe to the neck. He turned and pulled the weapon out of the girl. In retrospect, he should have been more gentle. He regrets his rash actions immediately.

She yells in pain but it gets stuck in her throat at the sight of him towering above her. His own breath gets stuck in her throat. She surely belongs among the Great Ones. Her eyes are filled with innumerable stars. There’s a depth and alluring presence to them. He’d dare to stare for longer had another cry of anguish not catch his attention.

The battle continues to rage on around him and his work is still needed.

The Fierce Deity continues to fight, leaving the young goddess behind. As the fight comes to a close, his host removes him once more and he has returned to the world of darkness around him. As darkness falls on the outside world, his host rests for the day. It is here that the old god decides to ask about the maiden from before.

“Hero.” He calls into the mind of his chosen.

He feels the body wither and groan in response. Exhaustion plagues his mind and body heavily, but his curiosity runs deeper than the needs of mortals. “Yes?”

“Tell me about the Great One’s kin.” He says, because he’s not entirely sure if she herself is one of the Great Ones or merely a Lesser One. He is sure, however, about her status among mortals is not one and the same.

“The what?” The once boy replies.

“The young woman.” He feels himself growing impatient. Who else could he be possibly talking about other than one of the most breathtaking individuals he has ever seen among the sixteen realms?

His host groans once more. Vaguely, the cursed one can feel the sluggish mind of his host put the dots together to whom he may be talking about. “Woman…. Hesper? Are you talking about Hesper?”

A soothing balm covers his irritation in an instant. He hums and echoes the name pleasantly. “Hesper. So that is her name… Divine, indeed. Tell me more.”

“No.”

“Boy-”

“No. It’s three in the morning. I am trying to sleep.”

That does not dissuade the old god.

It takes the course of multiple days, but the Fierce Deity eventually gleans information about the girl and her kin. She is from a distant realm beyond their borders of reality. She is in fact a daughter of the Great Ones- but of her own realm. There appear to be many Great Ones where she is from. She is a daughter of a goddess named Nyx- a goddess and personification of night, and mother to many monsters and other Great Ones.

However, Hesper herself is not a Great One, much to his disappointment and displeasure. She is half-mortal. There are many like her in her realm. Such one travels with the group as well. A young boy no older than seven. The Deity is told that the boy cannot speak with his tongue and rather uses his hands much like another boy he used to know. He is the opposite of his half-sister. She is dark and of the night. The boy is bright and of the day. To his knowledge, the boy was abandoned by his mother for not sticking to the code of her other children.

The Fierce Deity feels an indignant twitch in his eye once he is told but he cannot speak against such ones for his own sake. Hesper, however, does not seem to mind. The boy, named Sol, is very much her kin and responsibility.

When asked about her attire, the Deity was told that Hesper was born with a curse and natural susceptibility to sunlight. She cannot be touched by it or she will suffer.

Knowing all of this only causes the old god to want to know more about her.

Those eyes that he stared into haunt with every waking second. And for an immortal being without any need for rest, he has a lot of time on his hands to think of her. Should it come to it, he would fight by her side. He would devote himself to her. He would be her sword and her shield so she wouldn’t ever have to come near danger ever again. He cannot bear the thought of such a wondrous creature falling in the path of another blade. He still remembers her scream of pain. It is maddening.

Curiously, one day, the young boy Sol finds him among the hidden weapons and masks belonging to his host. The Fierce Deity is vaguely aware of the boy’s spirit. He is energetic and flighty- prone to joking with seemingly never-ending mischievous intentions.

He picks up the mask and studies him. The god doesn’t know of the boy’s intentions with his prison but he wonders how he passes the guard of his host. This is not a normal occurrence.

The boy drops the mask and something falls on top of it- cracking the visage.

The chains rattle around him and the Fierce Deity can feel the power of the prison slipping away as the seconds pass. It takes only a moment for him to find the weakest link and strike through it.

He is free.

His body forms from under the rubble and the boy stares up at him with what can only describe as shock and awe. It appears that while he dropped the mask, many things fell over as well, falling on top of the mask to strike just where it needed to. A lucky strike, so to speak.

His old host stands next to the boy, equally shocked and on edge. Any words he may have intended to say to the youngest die on his tongue once his eyes land on his imposing figure. His old host is no longer the boy he once knew. Pride swells up in him to see the man he has grown into. But neither of them are the one he wishes to see the most right now.

As if summoned by the commotion, Hesper herself comes from the woodwork, instantly b-lining for her young brother.

As soon as she nears, the deity drops to his knee, bowing toward the daughter of night.

She freezes at the sight of him, looking between him and his former host. She takes a step back. Hesper clears her throat and looks away from him. “... Is this normal?”

The Fierce Deity is unfamiliar with the emotions causing his heart to race but he knows that she is worthy of the honor and respect he gives her. “All others shield themselves from the morning sun- yet it is the starlight’s beauty that gains the admiration of mere men. I finally understand where they meet their folly."

Her jaw falls softly. Although it is covered by the cloth to shield her from the afternoon rays, he can see the shock drape over her face. She spins around, trying to find some sort of response to his words but no one is able to help her. She gulps. “I… thank you?”

His former host gains his sense of self first. He walks toward the two of them, putting himself in between. “Hesper, I’d like to apologize on his behalf-”

“Do not apologize for me.” The Deity growls. “I’ve waited for millennia. I refuse to wait any longer.”

"Millennia for what?? You- who are you?" Hesper blinks, completely perplexed. She then squints, recalling a time she'd gotten messed up on the battlefield no less than a week ago. "Wait... it's you. The deit- why are you bowing to me?"

Her recognition of him is exciting. The Fierce Deity straightens in his pose, keeping his knee firmly on the first floor. "Because you are the most exquisite jewel among mortal men."

Hesper gulps again, taking another step back. A hand raises, and a finger points towards her as if to question if he’s truly talking about her. As if he’d say that about anyone else. It’s a soft look. Her eyes widen, and a blush peeks out from under her mask. "W... what?"

"You are a daughter of the night." He says easily. "The jewels of the heavens are your birthright. And I am forever at your beck and call, my queen."

The Fierce Deity is too taken by the young woman in front of him to notice that the camp has gone silent. They are watching the interaction with intense interest. Sol looks around the group, not quite understanding what is transpiring.

Time’s jaw has dropped as well. Something compels him to attempt to regain control over the situation. Before he can act, however, Sol tugs on his sleeve. He signs. ‘Is he bad? Like the gods at home?’

Time sighs and shakes his head. "Yes and no. But I think you and your sister are safe."

‘Okay... why is he saying all that stuff about Hesper?’ Sol lights up suddenly. ‘Does he like her?? Is that what he meant by jewel?’

Time is fighting back the second-hand embarrassment as much as he can. "It appears soooo… He's always been more on the poetic side of prose."

He is not going to tell Sol that FD tried to farm him for information about his sister.

‘Oh, I see! Well, hopefully he doesn't just like her for her power, she hates that.’ Sol turns just in time to make eye contact with FD and waves with a grin.

The Fierce Deity smiles back in kind, making even Time take a step back. He waves and beckons the small child closer.

Sol runs up, no hesitation, and Hesper tenses. ‘Hi, I'm Sol! You like my big sister, huh?’

The old god’s face softens at the sign. The boy looks a lot like Link did when he was little. He reaches out to ruffle the hair of the younger one. "I've been bewitched by her splendor, little one. There is little who can compare. Are you the protector of this maiden?"

‘Yeah! If you wanna date my sister, you can't just use fancy words! You gotta pass my test!’

"Ah, Sol-" Hesper starts, alarmed.

The Fierce Deity grins. "Of course! A maiden of her caliber cannot be won alone by fanciful speech."

He reaches over, picking him up effortlessly and puts him on his shoulders. "Tell me, child, what quest is in need of pursuing?"

Sol grins back. ‘Well, to start, what do you like about her? Is she just a jewel to you?’

Hesper keeps her hand against her heart, watching the interaction with bated breath and a hand on a blade. Her heart is pounding in her chest.

"A jewel is more than its shine and splendor." He says easily, holding his hand out for her to take as he makes his way into the middle of the camp. It wouldn't look well on his part to leave her behind, now would it.

"I was enamored by her wit." He admits. "And her fortitude."

Hesper takes it after he says that, keeping the other readily on her blade.

‘Fortitude? What's that mean? Sounds cool!’ Sol, however, is unbothered by this hulking man, singing the praises of his older sister. He is very quickly gaining his approval.

"It means to take courage despite the pain." The old god whispers, looking at her reaction. There's no mistaking that he's smitten with her. Something that the rest of the group are quick to clue in on.

As well as the young woman. Despite her unwillingness to instantly trust this man, his face speaks of nothing but genuine emotion and intention. Does… he truly mean what he says?

The grip on her blade loosens.

Sol keeps signing. ‘Wow, you know her really well! How long have you been in love with her?’

"Sol!" Time cuts him off, mortified on Hesper's behalf. "I think that's a conversation for them to have."

"No way, this is getting good!" Legend waves him off.

Time pinches the bridge of his nose. "You're all horrible."

Sol tilts his head. ‘I'm just saying! He's obviously known her for a while, but she doesn't know him at all!’

"That's... why it should be a conversation between us." Hesper says quietly.

‘Oh? So you're okay with him?’

"... For now." She decides, releasing her blade entirely.

‘Okay! Good job, you passed for now!’

Even more pride swells within the chest of the deity. He finds himself standing straighter and smiles at the young boy on his shoulders. He feels as if he is beaming. “My many thanks.”

Sol clambers off him to go play with Wind, leaving his sister behind and thoroughly embarrassed. The deity watches his interest. He’s admittedly always had a soft spot for little ones.

Hesper on the other hand has succumbed to her embarrassment, covering her face with one of her hands. Her voice is quiet and strained. A mere squeak of its usual glory. “Oh my gods…”

The Fierce Deity sees no problem with this. He turns to her once again, bending at his knee with his head down. "My queen."

He awaits her direction.

"Ah- you don't have to bow, standing or sitting or- whatever you want to do is fine!" Hesper puts her hands out in an attempt to stop him from showing the proper respect she deserves. He does not understand why she attempts this. He can only assume that she's not used to this kind of treatment. Although he cannot imagine why.

Something about that level of innocence ignites his wicked streak. He smirks a bit. "And if I want to do this?"

"For crying out loud, don't make it harder on the poor girl." Time groans.

"... That's fine." Hesper barely manages to squeak out. She can't look at him. The deity hadn’t even thought it was possible for her to appear bashful. It’s an endearing look on her.

The Fierce Deity reaches out, brushing a bit of hair out of her face. "Beautiful... What a lovely shade you don, dearest.”

"I-I'm going to patrol-!" Hesper yells, taking a step back into the shadows and disappearing in a blink of an eye.

He blinks as he stares into the space where she once had been. Shadow travel? Exquisite. Is there anything she isn’t capable of? Curse aside, of course.

"Awwww..." Sky pouts. "She left before it got good."

Time is internally screaming. This has already gotten out of hand. He can't do anything to reel him in and he knows it.

Hesper is on her own, he decides. Which is unfortunate for her, but entertaining for everyone else.

Sol somehow has the sense to sign 'Hey mister, I think you overdid it.'

Wind nods along with him. "She's not used to compliments, take it from me. I called her pretty once and she hid her face again!"

The Fierce Deity frowns. "Is there such a thing? How could she not get compliments? She's one of a kind. A daughter of the Great One.... does she not have suitors?"

Sol shakes his head. 'Everyone back home thinks she's scary... at least that's what she said.’

Wind slowly nods along, wincing.

The old god glares in the space beyond the group. "Unacceptable.”

'I mean they're scared of Momma too, but I dunno why.' Sol shrugs. 'They're not scared of me.'

Sol does not understand that many fear such creatures of the night no matter what their size or shape. Their intentions and actions do not matter to the creatures of the day. However, that is of little excuse. The Fierce Deity doesn’t understand it either.

"Cowards."

The old god takes a deep breath.

Sol shrugs and goes back to playing with Wind.

It isn’t long until Sol returns and all but tackles the deity. ‘I have a question.’

“And what is it you intend to ask, little one?” The Deity turns to look at the young boy. He allows him to crawl over him, digging into his sides and his armor to perch himself over his shoulder.

‘Are you going to marry my sister?’

“If she’ll have me.”

Sol nods sagely. ’You’ll need an apple.’

“An apple?” Another thing the deity does not understand. “Is such a thing required for the hand of maidens where you’re from?”

Sol nods once again, more enthusiastically. ‘You have to throw it to her. If she catches it, she’ll marry you.’

The Fierce Deity remembers this and allows the child to get off of him as he returns to playing around with the other boys. He knows he must win over the young woman first but such knowledge is useful for the future.

Hesper doesn’t return until the break of twilight. The Fierce Deity had been attending and entertaining the younger ones when Sol had all but collapsed against him. Hesper collects the child without missing a beat and prepares his bedroll in a moment.

The old god is panicking on the inside but he's outwardly looking confused. "...I wasn't aware he was that thoroughly exhausted."

"He's not. It's his curse." Hesper picks up her brother's body, which appears limp and lifeless. "He can only be active in the light of day. No light; it's like he's dead. But he's just sleeping."

The Fierce Deity shudders at the thought, but it's quickly replaced by thinly veiled rage. "Who would dare put a curse on a child?"

"The gods of our world." Hesper says it so calmly... and then she looks at him. "They're afraid of what we'd do without them there."

"Well as I recall, they're not here." He growls. "Can this be undone?"

"It took a god to do it, so I'd imagine it'd take a god to undo it." Hesper goes through the routine of putting Sol to bed; arms over his blanket so he'll wake sooner in the morning. "Nothing else I've tried has worked, anyways."

The old god stares after the sleeping child.

"...A god you say..." He whispers, running his hands over Sol's bangs. He takes a knee once more and bows his head toward the young woman. "Is that all there is to it?”

"... It was the king of the gods who did it." The word 'king' is bitter on her tongue. "His word overpowers all others in our world. I know most of you are god slayers, so that might not even matter, but... be careful."

The Fierce Deity hums; already aware such things would come with a price and gently puts the back of his finger on Sol's cheek. The child is cold.

Something is stirred within him. Ancient. Primal.

"I'll find a way."

"I know. I could see you thinking about it as soon as I mentioned gods." Hesper sighs, already cluing in to the fact she can't sway him. Still, she makes him look at her. "I mean it, though. Find your way if you want, but don't be reckless. Please."

The Fierce Deity stills- the storm in his mind clearing as she pulls him from his thoughts. Her hands. They're on him. She's touching him. Willingly.

He backs down to step to her level.

"Yes... As you wish, Jewel." He whispers, unable to deny the look in her eye. His heart is pounding in his chest. What is this feeling?

"Thank you." She nods, checks on Sol one last time, then makes her way around the camp, checking in on the boys and seeing them off to bed.

... She can't believe she did that.

He can't believe she just did that.

He could have touched her back. He could have held her. He could have held her hand. He could have felt her skin and its warmth, its tone, its smooth silk-like quality.

A rare creature- both alluring and captivating. To humble him. To excite him.

He's never felt like a man until this point.

His eyes follow her as she moves through the camp.

This child means the world to her.

He'll protect them for the night.

Hesper looks back at him after a moment- Time does as well.

"Will you be sleeping?" She asks their shared question. She isn't sure if he needs sleep, but it never hurts to ask.

It takes a moment for the deity to register that she was speaking to him. When it hits he looks ashamed of not answering her sooner.

"No." He says. "You may rest for tonight. I have no plans for slumber."

She nods, then says goodnight to Time, returning to her brother's side. Instead of lying on a bedroll, she leans against the tree by his head, just shy of the deity's reach. If she’s sleeping, she’s in no hurry to do so.

The temptation the deity didn't know he'd have to restrain. He steadies himself to look away from her and the child, looking instead to the rest of the group and beyond.

He could do it. He could give in to everything he desires.

But she ran from mere words.

He would never live down pushing her away. So he sits still. Like a statue.

And behaves himself.

Even if he allows himself to fantasize in the meantime.

Hesper, for her part, glances at him, out of the corner of her eye.

He's really not that bad, she's decided. He's just... not used to people, she thinks. Yeah... not used to people. That made two of them, really.

She looks back into the forest, letting out a quiet sigh. Part of her is nervous. The last time someone took an interest in her, it was… It went bad, to say the least. She doesn't want that again.

But so far he seemed good. ...Overwhelming on the compliments, but good.

Oh gosh, the compliments. How could someone find that much to compliment her on? And not one thing about her power.

Courage.

Of course that's what he liked.

... It was cute, in a way. He's... he's pretty cute.

She'll admit that to herself. She can allow that.

She’s smiling a little when she nods off.

Seeing the faint smile on her face puts the deity a little more at ease. Time explains to the others (as they all tuck themselves in for the night) that they have nothing to fear from the old god and with time, they all turn in for the night as well and sleep peacefully.

Time gives one last glance at the large male before he also puts his head against his bed roll. The deity has seen him grow from boy to man- his old host has done much for him. The main one being his restraint- or rather- his desire to not abuse his power while he was imprisoned.

He will look after all of them. All of them. These young heroes of courage deserve to worry less about their journeys.

But as for Hesper...

He looks back to the child beside her.

The Fierce Deity vows that he will take care of that one, especially.

Hours pass and Hesper wakes with a start, as usual.

Dawn is coming. She checks to ensure she's properly covered, then gets up to check around the camp. She's so into her usual routine she forgets there's now a deity for a moment until she sees him.

"... Oh. Morning."

The Fierce Deity has already checked the perimeter and has returned from his second round. He bows to her. "Good dawn, Jewel."

She huffs in amusement. "You know, I’m not sure how I'm supposed to address you. Do you have a name or title you want us to use?"

Here, his cool confidence falters.

"I am known as the Fierce Deity. A war god. Protector of Termina......Cursed by the goddess to the form of a mask....and.... I have no other name."

"No other... ?" Hesper's eyes show she's frowning. "That's... horrible. I'm sorry to hear that."

The Deity flushes. "Gods of no honor receive none."

Demise is a name the Hylians gave him but he is known as The Demise. Or The Void. Titles are given when they have either fulfilled or gained their intended purpose. In which they are shortly after disposed of in one way or another.

Demise didn't approve of that and sought vengeance.

The deity himself fought back and was cursed.

But he was never meant to be loved. So he has no name. He knows this.

"I have accepted this."

"You have more honor than any god I know." She blurts. She's... surprised by how quickly it comes out. But she keeps going. "You... you deserve a name.”

His head snaps up to meet her head-on. "... I wouldn't dare… presume...."

"What name would you want? If... if you had one." It's not fair, Hesper laments in her heart. He should have one. Screw the regulations. He's done so much, for so long. She can see it on his face. He's earned a name. She'll name him herself if no one else will.

The deity looks to the ground. No one had ever asked him that before. He didn't think it would have been worth considering.

He looks at the boys. They all share the same name. It would be strange to take it for himself.

He frowns, feeling frustrated for not being able to give his queen an adequate answer. "I never gave it much thought. It was never of importance. I don't... I don't know..."

"That's okay." She assures him. "I... you don't have to take it if you don't like it, but... what about Thárros? It's... it's in my mother tongue, but... it means Courage."

"Thárros..." The name rolls off his tongue smoothly.

"Hesper..." He says her name for comparison. Frankly, he finds that her name is much sweeter on his tongue. But the note that the first name was chosen by his queen, in her maiden tongue no less, fills him with an indecipherable warmth. He's never been exposed to this sort of warmth before. He takes ahold of it.

"Thárros." He echoes himself. "You may call me that. If you desire, Jewel."

Her eyes crinkle, glimmering a little, and she nods. "I will. It's a pleasure to meet you, Thárros. And... you can call me Hesper, if you want. But Jewel's fine, too."

Dawn peeks over the horizon, and Hesper steps into the shade. The light makes contact with Sol's arm and a moment later he opens his eyes, once again full of life as he sits up and yawns. 'Morning...'

Wild sits up in another part of camp, going to make breakfast.

Thárros lets it rumble around his brain. It's a nice name. He smiles, smiling wider when Sol awakens. "Good morning, little one."

Time and Warrior both wake up soon after, getting ready for the day as well. They both send him nods of acknowledgement. He returns them with ease.

'Morning, Mister. How'd you sleep?' He yawns again, still not enough sunlight in his system yet. 'Oh! Did Hesper miss the sun today?'

"Yes, Sol, I'm over here." Hesper answers the last part for him.

"Miss the sun?" The Fierce Deity, now known as Thárros, looks over and tilts his head. Strange. But she is of the night.

"I didn't sleep." He responds to the child's earlier question. "I have no need for it."

'Oh, that’s cool. Yeah, Hesper wears so much clothes because she's allergic to the sun. It'll hurt her really bad if it touches her skin, so I always check.' Sol signs his understanding, but it doesn't take too much to decipher Sol processes Hesper's curse as an allergy. 'She’s only not missed it once, though, she's really good about it.'

Something in the old god’s heart breaks. That’s right, they’re both cursed. Forever shunned from either side of the day. How can they remain a family this way?

He nods in understanding, ruffling Sol’s hair in the process. "She must cherish you greatly. It's good that you look after her the way you do."

He'll break her curse too. He swears by this as well.

'Uh huh, we're really close! Even if she can't run around and play tag with Wind and I around camp, she's really good at hide and seek in the forest! She'll find me, sneak under my feet and toss me in the air! It's super fun! ' As the sun keeps rising, he gains more energy and signs faster. 'And we'll sit close during meals and after dinner we'll make up stories if I'm not playing with Wind and she taught me how to use a dagger and sneak and-!'

"Breakfast is ready!"

'Oo, breakfast! I'll be back with a plate for you, sis!' And off he runs.

Hesper laughs. "Ever the energetic one~"

Thárros shakes his head. "Most are at his age."

He then points to his old host, who's too busy trying to give out the food in an organized manner. "He was just as bad, if not worse."

Hesper chuckles. "I believe it. Though I'm willing to bet Sol can be energetic much longer than he ever was."

He hums. "....No. Not quite. The boy would stay awake for days on end. Never ceasing his quest for justice… I'm afraid Sol could not have done the same. Not with the curse upon him."

"Oh, I almost forgot he was a child hero." Hesper sighs. "I can't stand those... why must they fight so young?"

"Why indeed?" Thárros’ hand flexes over his knee. "I suppose the heroes all have their own curses to bear... It is the same with your Great Ones."

Well, I wouldn’t call them all great. Not when they treat the world as some toy they can toss away when it bores them." The glint in her eyes darkens briefly, then she looks up as her brother starts running back. "... Don’t tell Sol I said that."

The deity nods, even further fascinated by the woman next to him.

"I am not allowed to call The Great Ones anything but." He murmurs. "But it appears we aren't as different as I originally thought."

"Is that so? I suppose I should be nicer to them, but... well, I'm only nice to the gods I respect. Outside my family, that's just you." Hesper smiles as Sol reaches them, offering food. "Oh, I see you have three plates. You got one for Thárros too?"

Sol makes the connection quickly and nods, offering the deity a plate. He does not question the name.

Thárros subtly smiles and eases the weight off of the little one. "Thank you."

The deity begins to eat the strange meal. He's never had someone cook for him before either. He wasn't entirely sure he needed to eat. But the smell was kind and the other took no heed in questioning the methods behind it.

He takes a bite.

'You're welcome!' Sol plops down, separating the best slice of meat from the rest of his meal and eating the rest. Notably, Hesper does the same.

Naturally, the deity notices this, but he doesn't understand. There's many customs he hasn't needed to learn and so he has no reason to believe that it's anything strange to do. Not to mention they grew up with separate Great Ones to dictate the manner of conduct.

He makes no comment on it and simply eats like he's seen his old host do.

They both finish except for that one piece, and Sol turns to get Hesper's plate, sliding her remaining portion onto his. He walks over to the fire and scrapes them both in, signing 'For Mama.'

"... Nyx and Thárros." Hesper murmurs quietly.

Sol goes about collecting plates and helping them get clean while Hesper starts packing up.

That takes him by surprise.

An offering?

For him, no less.

If it was for their mother, he would understand more but for him? He's a lesser god. An ant of a divine being. He's no better than they are. Why would they offer something to him?

They pack up relatively quickly and make their way through the forest once more. He stays close to the back of the group, keeping quiet to not disturb the others as much as he can avoid. It appears Hesper is of the same train of thought, although she still isn’t quite sure what to make of him.

Hours turn to days turn to weeks turn to months. They are no better off finding the cure to their problem than he is finding the cure to the curses of the divine ones within the group.

The lack of progress is maddening. Thárros, as he is slowly beginning to grow accustomed to being called, has always considered himself a man of action and of results. To have nowhere to begin and no direction to follow is not in his nature.

However, that does not stop him from doting on Hesper whenever he has the time. And should the boys permit it, Sol takes it upon himself to use his body as his personal climbing gym. It warms Thárros’ heart that the boy is so welcoming of his presence. Link as a child was curious and desperate at best, but still wary.

It is a moment where he finds himself alone on patrol that he feels something shift in the air. He instantly puts his hand on the hilt of his blade. It is the middle of the day and he is in a clearing. Only someone foolish enough to not know who he is would threaten him here.

"... You're Thárros, yes? My sister speaks fondly of you."

The man spins on his heel, coming face to face with a woman he has never seen before but his confidence is shaken. A Great One. Her power is beyond his own. She stands as the dawning sun. Warm and giving, hopeful to a fault but dim. She does not stand in the direct light but she glows in the way a divine being can. He knows not who she is but respect has always been given until taken away.

His battle mask comes on.

He nods to her, bowing for good measure. "I am quite fond of her as well. May I ask of your name, Great One?"

"Yes, I can see it." Her smile is warm towards him, much like Hesper's. “I am called Hemera, goddess of the dawn and giver of days. Your loyalty to my sister is clear... You even wish to break the curse on her, from what I hear. I believe I can help with that."

Thárros' attention snaps to her. He takes a step closer despite his better judgment. "How?"

"I have crafted a bracelet for her... with it, she can walk in whichever light she wishes." She produces the item, offering it to him. "All it needs now is the touch of a deity from this world to be finished. I trust you wouldn't mind?"

He drops to take a knee. "It would be my greatest honor.”

Hemera is pleased. "Yes... you two are indeed a good match, just as I thought. May you live long lives together."

He nods, tenderly biting his lip from the inside. He cannot show weakness. He cannot fail.

It's never been this easy before. Truly there isn't any other catch to this.

Hemera presses the bracelet into his hand with a nod and a smile. It gains a shimmer to it; so quick it almost didn't seem real.

"I'll leave you to it, then." She stands and turns to leave. "... Thank you, Thárros. To you and your boys; for taking care of them when we can't."

He looks down into his palm and tucks the bracelet into his chest. Should he push his luck?

"And the boy?" He asks tentatively. "The child is cursed as well… Is that your domain? Can you help?"

Hemera looks sad at that. "I would help Sol if I could, but... we are both at the mercy of night. I'm afraid I can't help him."

Thárros stands. "...Is there a Great One who could?"

He refuses to only have one solution. He had promised Hesper to help her little brother. He has to push a bit further to make headway on his vows.

Hemera thinks about it. "... My father might. Erebus, the darkness itself. But... he has no love for either of them. He will not give you a solution as freely."

He nods; body rigid with pure determination. "I am willing to pay any price for either of them."

"Careful what you vow, Thárros." Hemera warns. "I have no doubt he'll use it against you if he can. ... Good luck on your quest. I hope you can free him."

His grip on the bracelet tightens. "I'm well aware."

He sees her off and looks back to the token in his hands.

He knows the Great One would rather have him sacrifice himself. But he was already imprisoned once. Worse case scenario he must cease to exist.

For Hesper?

He'd take that plunge.

His world has long grown out of a use for him and the Great Ones above him care not for his fate.

He'd do anything.

Thárros returns to camp quickly. He finds Hesper relatively quickly. She had fallen asleep in the shade of a great oak, a rare break she has given herself. He kneels beside her and regrettably shakes her shoulder gently. She rests so few and far between… but this, he feels, is beyond a moment of reprieve.

Hesper's eyes open and she stretches, grunting.

Not her most comfortable sleep, but better than none at all.

"Good dawn, Thárros." She’s started keying in when he's around, but she still blinks twice when she realizes he's closer than she thought. "... Did something happen?"

He bows toward her again. "I've had a visitor, Jewel."

He keeps his head low, waiting for her reaction. "A Great One by the name of Hemera."

"Hemera was here?" There’s a lightness to her tone; delight at hearing about her sister. "I didn't think she could get here. How is she? Just checking in?"

He smiles at her tone. There's trust there. He visibly relaxes. "Yes. She brought a gift."

"A gift?" Hesper chuckles. "For you or Sol?"

"For you." He whispers, bringing the bracelet into the light.

She pauses, not expecting that.

"... For me?" She reaches out, fingers just grazing the bracelet before she draws them back with a gasp. "What- what kind of magic is that? It's so warm."

"A protection." He urges her to take it. "From the light, Jewel."

He gulps, beginning to second-guess himself. The feelings he's never experienced until he met this woman scare him. "It cures your curse."

She looks at him. In disbelief. In shock. But then the stars in her eyes start to shimmer with hope.

Carefully, she takes the bracelet and puts it on. As it clicks around her wrist, it shimmers again, and she can feel the warmth spread through her whole body.

"... I can't believe it." She says softly. "After all this time... I can really..." She looks up from the bracelet, pulling down her mask just as the tears fall. "Thank you."

He panics and reaches to wipe her tears as gently as he can. "Why? Why thank me so? I have yet to help the little one."

Not to mention he can't really take credit for this. If anything, it means they would have gotten help sooner but no one cared enough to offer it. Even those that could.

But she seems overjoyed, so he won't ruin it for her.

"Yes, but you brought my hope back. I was certain-" She decides not to finish that, reaching forward and hugging him tight without a care in the world. "Thank you, Thárros. For caring."

Thárros shivers when she says his name. It's a power she has over him. It's exciting yet humbling.

He gulps, wrapping his arms around her as well. "I will help the child. Thank me not, yet. My work isn't finished."

But he tucks his nose into her hair. "However, I'm glad that you are taken care of."

"One thing down." Hesper exhales in agreement, relaxing against him. He's so warm... She feels safe like this.

Wild coughs, and it gets Hesper's attention. "Uh... good morning? Have a nice nap?"

Hesper goes pink and attempts to slowly pull out of the hug, despite a part of her screaming to just shadow away. "... Good afternoon, Wild."

Thárros doesn't let her go. If anything, he holds on tighter. He calls the young hero his affection-given name. "Good afternoon, Cub."

He turns his head to look at the young man. "Has the meal been prepared?"

"Working on it." The young man replies.

... Hesper is fine. This is comfortable. She's not-

Oh, who is she kidding, her growing appreciation and attraction are so obvious right now! Still, she doesn't move. In fact, she indulges herself and tucks her head in the crook of his neck. If he insists on keeping her here, she'll just get more comfortable.

Thárros nods towards Wild, turning his attention back to the woman in his arms. He holds her close, tucking her against him. He dare not ask for more from her.

He tenderly trails his fingers through her hair. But words fail him.

She tilts her head into his touch, trying to encourage him to continue.

This is nice. She likes this, earlier embarrassment aside. Sol sits up now that the rain clouds have passed, yawning with eyes half open. 'No... wanna go back to sleep...'

Hesper chuckles. "Afternoon, Sol. Did you enjoy your nap as well?"

'Hello. Sleep was ok...' He turns, blinking blearily. '... Your hood is off... Hair pretty. You like it short?'

"Easy to manage, I suppose."

Sol nods slowly, the gears in his brain turning slowly. '... Wait... hood off... no sunburn?'

Hesper shows him her bracelet. "Magic sunblock."

'Magic... sunblock? So you can...' It hits and he perks up. 'You can play tag?'

"Yes." Hesper snorts as Sol stumbles out of bed, running to tackle Wind and get a game started.

The deity chuckles, brushing Hesper's hair away from her face. "How do you feel, Jewel?"

"... Warm." She smiles. "The kind of warmth night can't replicate... it's nice."

"Ack- Sol, what- ... WHAT?!" Wind's shout catches the attention of several other Links, most of them confused and unimpressed. "Guys, Hesper can be in the sun!"

Wild looks up from his pot, blinking, then it clicks that Hesper and Thárros are in the sun and he mouths 'oh'.

The fierce deity smiles, grinning even. But instead of letting the others see it, he hides his face in the crook of her neck. "I'm glad."

He pulls away, teasing a kiss to her cheek. "You shouldn't need to hide from now on."

She giggles, even as her cheeks turn pink. "Aw, but sneaking around is fun!"

The rest of the camp is thrown for a loop; especially Time.

"It's only fun when it's voluntary." He whispers. "I feel as if I'm finally seeing you for the first time."

He pulls back, looking her over now that she can have her face out without any concern. He hums quietly, ignoring the other boys. "Typically the sun would overpower the light of the stars… but dare I say you appear even more bedazzled than usual, Darling."

She flusters more, attempting to pull her mask up. "How? I haven't done anything-"

He stops her, poking her nose with his. "Don't. I'm not done admiring you yet, Jewel."

"F... fine." She accepts her fate, embarrassing as it is. "If you insist..."

Warrior coughs from the sidelines. "I didn't think he had moves."

Time pales. "Honestly.... neither did I."

'Her stars are pretty, so it makes sense he wants to watch them.' Sol grins.

"Stars?" Wind blinks.

'Yeah, Hesper has stars in her eyes!'

"Oh, like how you have the sun-shaped birthmark."

'I think so? Yeah!'

Thárros takes the moment to study her. He finds it fascinating. Her eyes are full and deep and beautiful. His are flat, plain, off-putting.

He kisses her again, on her forehead, unable to hold himself back. Then he moves to her other cheek and her temple. Then onto the other side.

He kisses the tip of her nose and seemingly moves to her lips but pauses.

"Dearest... I would travel through hells for you..." He whispers. "I merely wish for you to be honored as you deserve. Whether it be with me... or another..."

But he's not too fond of the latter idea.

"... You act as if I'd choose someone else." The idea that he even considers that... annoys her. "I've let you this close, haven't I? Isn't it obvious by now, Thárros?"

His grip on her tightens as he goes completely rigid. His jaw clenches and he gulps. "...I'm afraid I am unworthy. For you... your name... your legacy...your family..."

He closes his eyes, brushing his nose against hers, taking her presence in. "I... am a selfish man. But I cannot fault you, should you choose another."

Hesper huffs, warm breath fanning over his face. "Seriously?"

She kisses him, right there, in front of the whole camp.

A choked noise comes out of him, clearly taken off guard.

His hands fly upwards, caging her in and holding her closer. One hand on her cheek, the other entangled in her hair.

He gives in to his desires at last.

Hesper makes a point to kiss him for a long moment, both to prove something and because it felt good to kiss him. When she finally draws back, however, it's softly, and she's cradling his face like he's as precious as he likes to say she is. "... I... choose you. Understand? No one else, Thárros. I love you."

He keeps her close though- not allowing her to be too far away from possibly being kissed again. Thárros gulps and nods. "I have already chosen you… My Love."

The frustration mixed with her look of adoration slips away, and she huffs in amusement. "Good. Glad we're on the same page."

"... Lunch is ready." Wild hesitantly breaks the moment, the first to find his voice in the shocked silence of... everyone.

The one… previously known as The Fierce Deity was overjoyed for the longest time. He was no longer bothered by their lack of progress. To see the Jewel of the Sixteen Realms laugh and play in the sun as she’s always yearned warmed his heart. It seemed as if there was a hole that was filled from that point on, both in Hesper and in Sol.

And to finally kiss her.

It only solidified his determination to help where he was needed. Surely, there would still be battles to fight and a war to win, but this purpose had a higher meaning now.

If he had to lay his existence on the line for the sake of one little boy, he would do so without a second thought. While he would miss his Jewel, and he knew now, that it would pain her for him to leave. If it was called for, he would give. And give and give. She deserved to live happily. She was robbed of the light and of the pleasures of day. And as a consequence, she was robbed of her brother and his childhood.

And her brother deserved to have his big sister by his side to protect him- not to watch him from a distance where she cannot go. Sol should know the wonders of the night and beauty of the stars. It is the realm of his mother and his sister. The darkened skies are a peace to mankind. He should know those as well.

A family must be whole.

He says none of this to Hesper, for fear she should convince him otherwise. But he has never broken a vow before, nor does he plan to begin to do so.

It is once again, when he is alone on patrol that another Great One from the other realm visits him. This time, however, the world shifts around him and Thárros is enveloped in darkness. He sees no body either in front of him or around him.

He need not introduce himself. The darkness speaks to cut to the chase. "Hemera says you wish to break a curse. That requires a test, does it not? Sure you can wield the sword and ‘protect’... but I know your kind. Savage. Rough. Beastly. Prove yourself capable of restraint and maybe I'll help the child."

“Erebus.” The Fierce Deity bows in the darkness. A Great One of the highest regard should be treated as such, no matter how savage he considers them to be. The Great One gives him no such respect in return.

"Do not move from where you stand, boy. What you are going to see has already transpired. Try to help her-" The omnipresent form before Thárros grins wickedly, a smile that promises pain. "And I will send you back to where you came from in failure."

Thárros growls, hate and wrath already burning in his stomach.

The Great One laughs. "This would be interesting to watch. Begin."

The darkness shifts, forming a room. A man stands before him, holding a wailing baby. It's- her arm has been touched by sunlight, smoke curling into the air from the contact. Hesper turns into the man's shadow, melting away and into a darkened corner of the house, still crying. The man gasps.

"What the- what kind of demon are you?!" The man grabs a knife, face twisted in disgust as he starts towards her. "Nevermind that! Go back to wherever you came from, you little devil!"

The man swings towards Hesper and-

The scene changes.

The once Fierce Deity tenses considerably, but makes no move.

She's older now. A man sits with her, a weaker demigod, holding the arm burnt in her childhood and examining the scars it left behind.

"It never healed?"

"Not really." She says softly, pulling her arm back. "That's why I wear the cloak... to protect me from the sun. Until I find something else, at least."

The man nods, something glinting in his eyes. Something dark. "So... it really can kill you."

She doesn't see it, standing from the table. "Yes. That's why I visit at night... I really should go, Lityerses. Hemera is coming soon."

Something crashes to the floor. A mirror, sending shards everywhere.

"Lit?! Are you alri-"

"Hemera." 'Lit' grasps the edge of a curtain. "Is already here."

He rips the curtain down, sunlight flooding the room and reflecting off of all the shards. Hesper screams in pain, retreating to a corner and hiding behind her cloak. "Lit, what are you doing?!"

"I'm sick of you leaving." He pulls down another curtain and another, ignoring her cries for him to stop. "I'm starting to wonder if you even love me."

"I do! Lit, please-!"

"That's not good enough." He pulls down the last curtain, looking at the cloak wrapped so tight he can only see the shape of her. "I don't want you to leave ever again. You're mine, Hesper. Only mine."

Then he took the curtains and left.

Leaving her to sob.

Thárros can feel the need to conjure his sword bubble under the surface of his skin. He studies the face of the man intently, but makes no move from his spot.

The memories with Lit continue. There’s days worth. Months worth. Years worth. Every time he appears through the door, Thárros has to remind himself there's an end to this. Somewhere, eventually, this ends. He stops screaming at her. He stops abusing her. He stops demanding things he has no right to demand. She stops crying.

It takes another year’s worth of memories before he hears a second man. Not Lit. The small form in the corner shifts.

"... Don't." She hisses to the second man. "Don't eat, don't drink. It's a trick."

She flinches as Lit kicks the door, but she keeps going. "He intends to slow you so you can't beat him."

"Beat him in what?" The man replies.

"A harvesting contest!"

"SHUT UP!" A harsher kick, and she goes quiet again. But the man stands.

"Who is she?"

"A foolish woman who can't keep her mouth shut!" Lit throws open the door, intent on getting her, but the second man pulls him back outside.

"You can deal with her after you beat me."

Lit laughs. "Alright, fine! I've never been beat before, I won't start now!"

Thárros felt great satisfaction when Hercules took his head off.

He watched on as the scenes went by faster; near hits, near kills, threats, all while she gained more scars and better equipment to deal with the sun.

Then she was at a camp. A camp full of demigods. She watched them at night, through the shadows of the woods. She protected them, kept the monsters in line.

And she was utterly alone.

They were frightened of her, of her power. They didn't even know her name. They gave her no thanks. No offering.

Did they even know what she did for them?

Even the children of her brother, Hypnos, avoided her.

... And she protected them anyway.

Tharros was glad that he had picked up from the mortals on how to control their emotions. Something he didn't think he had the discipline to learn.

He had gleaned bits and pieces of her past from their conversations, and from what the others would say and from what Sol would say but he never imagined it so vividly.

It was maddening. Blood boiling.

The only thing he could focus on was how he would have changed it all. How he would have made them worship her, how he would have protected her- treated her like the goddess she is. She would have never wanted for anything or would have worked a day in her life.

FD bit his tongue on multiple occasions. The slight metallic tang in his mouth wasn't enough to deter him from calming down. But it did keep him in place. It kept him from moving. It kept him from going to and destroying them all.

He had clenched his fists so hard that he was sure that his nails had pierced his skin.

Hesper would no doubt question him about it later.

But this is for her brother. Her kin. The one she loved so dearly.

The only other to love her as completely as he did.

It was due.

He would not compromise himself or the child.

He would. Not. Move.

"... Hmph." The Great One huffed, breath ruffling his hair. "I commend you, boy. All that pain to your beloved, and still you refuse to move."

Erebus pauses, watching as a black blood throws Hesper to the ground, driving its weapon through her shoulder. The day Thárros first saw her.

Erebus laughs.

"I fail to see what you do in that pitiful wretch, but I will admit, your loyalty is quite amusing."

Instead of feeling more rage at the scene before him, he calms. He is reminded of what he saw in her, why he fell so hard for her.

He’s reminded why he's here.

He ignores the Great One's sting to her. He takes a breath. "It is I who sees it. You need not concern yourself with it. All I endure is so that you keep your end of the bargain."

"... Enough." Erebus scoffs, and it all ends. "You know the rest of it, so I won't bother making you relive it. Your point is made, and your trial passed. As agreed, I will undo what has been done to the boy."

The Fierce Deity only tenses up more, afraid of ruining this. He nods and bows once more (despite his distaste for the Great One in front of him) for good measure. "My thanks."

"Yes yes, be on your way." Erebus grunts, waving him off into the familiar shadows of Hylian forest. It appears that hours have passed since he has left the group. Night has recently fallen. The last simmers of the sunlight are barely holding onto the horizon. As Thárros walks, the Great One speaks one last time. "... I'm impressed, boy. No god here would do as you have this day. Tell me, who is it that has passed my trial?"

... He's asking for his name?

"I am the Protector of Termina." He settles for a neutral title. "But I am called... Thárros by the daughter night."

"Thárros..." A laugh bubbles out of the primordial being. "Yes, courage indeed... So you will be known by me, Thárros the Protector."

Something alights within him with that. A new purpose. A god with a name.

A god worth honoring.

He bows once more in respect.

Then he turns to leave.

Erebus' presence leaves him and back towards camp Hesper releases a startled yelp.

"Ah! Oh my gods- Sol, you're awake! I- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, yes I know it's late-"

Thárros starts running to the camp.

He stops by the edge, watching Sol sign as quickly as he can, both in confusion and fascination. The young child keeps poking and checking his skin- as if he's expecting to start burning like his sister does.

Relief? Love? Acceptance? He doesn’t know what emotion explodes within him. Whatever it is causes tears to roll down his cheeks and he drops to his knees.

He did it.

He actually did it.

Both siblings turn to him at the sound of his collapse and run to him.

"Thárros? What happened? Are you alright?" Hesper asks as Sol reaches up and wipes his tears away with warm, tiny hands.

Words fail him.

He leans down for Sol to reach better and kisses the boy on the forehead. "Enjoy your blessings, child."

He runs his hand over his hair before turning and picks Hesper up, spinning her around in circles. He peppers her face in all the kisses he can before he dips her, kissing her soundly.

When he pulls back, leaving her dizzy and breathless, he finally finds it in himself to speak coherently. "I told you I'd do it."

"... Oh my gods." Her eyes widen, sparkling as she looks from Sol to him again. "You- oh my gods!"

She laughs and pulls him in for another kiss. Sol has no idea what's happening but he runs around grinning.

He kisses her back happily.

No one else knows what's happening. They're still wondering why Sol hasn't fallen asleep yet, or rather, why he woke up.

Thárros pulls away first, hooking Hesper's legs around his waist. "Be my woman… Please..."

Hesper laughs again as she holds his shoulders to steady herself. "I thought I already was."

"Officially..." He whispers. "I believe Sol mentioned an apple is typically involved."

Hesper went pink, words lost as her lips parted. Slowly though, she smiles, stars warm with light. "... Yes. I'd love to, Thárros."

He smiles back and rests his forehead against hers. "Then it's decided then."

He steals a kiss, running his hands through her hair. "You will want for nothing, I swear by it."

Hesper giggles, brushing white locks from his face. "Of course not. I already have all I could need."

"I would believe a roof is in order, first." Thárros teases, feeling overjoyed and boyish and whole.

"Stay with me." He whispers. "You and the boy."

They could all be together. He would protect them all. His woman, the child-....

Could they start a family? He doesn't want to get his hopes up. But the thought of little ones running around, excites him now that there's little for him to fear.

'Yeah!' Sol somehow wiggles his way between them both. 'I wanna stay with Thárros!'

"Well, if we're all in agreement." Hesper laughs, ruffling Sol's hair along with Thárros'.

Sol chuckles, letting her do as she pleases.

This is it. He's going to do everything in his power. If anything would touch a single hair on their heads... He would have to be personally brought into hell itself for him to cease the rains of fire.

The name placed upon him is Thárros. His old title means nothing now. He is no longer the honorless Fierce Deity but rather Thárros the Protector. He is alight with a new purpose and will remain with his name until his purpose is completed.

He will always have his purpose, for now and forever.

"No one is going anywhere then. You're safe."

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #Fierce Deity #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #i guess?#they're not fully mentioned but Hesper is from that universe #legend of zelda #the fierce deity #FD #Fierce Deity x OC #fierce deity x oc #goodness is that everything?#i doubt it

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staybabblingbaby · 2 months ago

Text

Soulmate Garden AU Ch.2 (Anemone) a3d2

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Growing up, you knew Soulmates weren't all that they cracked up to be. So when, on your 18th birthday, your skin is painted with a garden of flower buds, you resolve to hide it from everyone. Who had ever heard of someone with 8 soulmates, anyway?

Or; Reader has 8 soulmates and no issue avoiding all of them. It's up to SKZ to show her that while every soulbond might not be made of fairy tales, theirs certainly could be.

Word Count: 4,218

Notes: I don't feel like the summary completely matches this story anymore. I'm also not really satisfied with this chapter, but I'm too tired to really get into a whole bunch of drafts and edits, I've just really been feeling poorly lately. The archive is for writing progress anyways, it's fine. I'll probably rewrite this whole chapter if I ever get to where I'd be comfortable posting finished versions to Ao3. I'm also just not fond of my writing style somehow. It feels too formal, doesn't flow enough. Problem is that I really talk like that lmao. Idk, I'll figure it out.

Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: She/Her Reader

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist <3 | Prev Part | Next Part

Bangchan clambered into the van behind Felix, Minho and Jisung loading into the row in front of them. It always felt a bit weird to not spend some time swapping seatmates around based on who was clinging to who at the moment, but on days like today it was easier to just board the vehicles as quick as possible.

He's ended up with a relatively quite combination of their cluster today, and Chan was grateful for it as he settled into his seat with a pained grimace.

He wasn’t sure when it had started, but a persistent on-and-off pain had been roaming around his back for the last twenty minutes as they’d said goodbye to Stays and prepared to leave the venue. He’d be more worried about it, except the sharp, needle-like, pains would settle into a gentler ache before kicking back up again.

As it was, Chan was pretty sure he’d pinched a nerve or strained something and would simply rest when he got back to the hotel. Maybe call up the PT. For now, as three of his soulmates settled in around him, Chan was content to leave it be.

Well, almost. Another twinge of pain makes him wince as he twists to buckle in, and Chan decides that maybe it’d be a good idea to know what he was working with. For comfort’s sake, if nothing else.

“Felix,” He prods the blond next to him, “Can you look at my back for me? I think I pinched something.” He motions toward his lower back, where the majority of the pain had been accumulating.

Felix immediately nods his acceptance, their group’s resident massage expert always willing to lend a hand. Especially if it let him lay hands on his very well built soulmates.

Chan scooches forward and rotates around, balancing with his hand on the headrest of the seat in front of him. He helps Felix shimmy his shirt upwards, struggling with it where it gets caught in the seat-belt.

Chan ends up stuck struggling on his own as Felix chooses that moment to direct his eyes and hands to the afflicted area.

“There’s your first issue,” Felix tuts, “You’ve left your concealment tape on. You’ll give yourself a rash one of these days, hyung.”

Chan gives a sheepish smile from where he’s managed to trap himself in a cloth prison. His head is free, and the shirt his appropriately bunched up over his shoulders and around his neck. Unfortunately, he hadn’t managed to free his hands, so he’s got a bit of a t-Rex thing going on right now. It’s fine.

“I forget it’s there,” he confesses with a whine, “I can’t see my own back, y’know?”

Felix rolls his eyes at their oh-so-glorious leader, carefully peeling the thin material away from Chan’s skin as he scolds, “You still need to take it off. We sweat way too much to not at least change it after a performance.”

He’s bunching up the extra-strength tape to maybe toss at Jisung in the front seat (maybe Minho, if he’s feeling very brave), when he spots something off.

More than half a decade into having found each other, the members of Stray Kids were intimately familiar with each other’s soulmarks. Every drop of color, every line, every curve.

So when Felix looks at the freshly uncovered canvas on Chan’s back, familiar trees, bushes, and rocks painting a forested landscape that describes their impact on their eldest, something new immediately catches his eye.

There, on the fallen log that bridged two banks of a crystal-clear creek, was a moss blanket and a cluster little shelf mushrooms. They added life to the previously defunct object, a little bit of color that couldn’t have been said to be missing until it wasn’t.

The closer Felix looked, the more he saw. A mushroom here, a mossy patch there. Little signs of life and decay that he could have sworn weren’t there the last time he looked.

He looks to Jisung, who’s blissfully unaware.

As the first of their cluster to paint Chan’s skin with color, he was the most familiar with their leader’s mark. Jisung had been too young for his own mark to have appeared when he’d met Chan, but that didn’t stop him from influencing their eldest’s. They all knew he’d spent a lot of time studying Chan’s mark (and Changbin’s when it had appeared, already partially colored in) while waiting for his own.

If there was anyone who’d be more than certain of a change in their soulmarks, it’d be Jisung.

Felix swiftly removes his hands from Chan’s back, earning him a little noise of confusion from the prone man, and reaches over to poke Jisung harshly in the side.

Jisung immediately flinches away from the offending fingers with a loud yelp, attracting the attention of Minho, who’d been peacefully scrolling on his phone. Jisung swiftly fixes Felix with an offended glare, ready to retaliate, but is cut off before he can even try.

“Look at Chan’s mark for me.” Felix demands.

“My mark?” Chan echoes, baffled and alarmed. “What’s wrong with my mark?”

“Nothing, hyung,” Felix assures, “I just need to check I’m not seeing things.”

A series of furtive, silent, and, on Felix’s part, urgent, gestures are exchanged before Jisung finally relents and leans around the back of his seat, grabbing Minho’s for balance as the van departs.

Jisung lazily traces his eyes over Chan’s soulmark. All of Stray Kids had huge marks, but Jisung privately thought that Chan had them all beat. His mark spanned his entire back, not an inch untouched by the image. From shoulder to hip was an oil painting of a mark, filled in from what used to be a desolate landscape to what was now a thriving forest.

Jisung used to think it was so overwhelming to be part of such a mark. To be loved so much, and so deeply. It was evident in every brushstroke of the image on Chan’s skin, and in every action of the man himself.

These days, he found great comfort in it.

He’d gotten so lost in thought as he studied his soulmate’s mark that Jisung had almost missed what had caught Felix’s attention in the first place. But sure enough, his eyes catch on the same log that Felix’s had.

“Oh.” He whispers to himself. “Oh.” He says again, as Minho shoves his head under Jisung’s arm to look himself.

“No, yeah, that’s different.” He confirms, Minho nodding against him, having already spotted it for himself. The two of them find their eyes glued to tiny mushrooms, only sparing a moment to glance at each other before returning their gaze to Chan’s skin, each with their own racing thoughts.

“I thought so.” Felix nods to himself.

“What?” Chan questions, becoming more alarmed by the second, “What’s going on? What’s happened? What’s wrong with my mark?”

Felix lays his palms flat on Chan’s back and begins to rub gentle, soothing, circles. Any changes to a soulmark were stressful at the best of times, and they all knew how much Chan treasured his.

“There’s nothing wrong,” Felix soothes, letting the warmth of Chan’s mark resonating with his touch calm them both as he searches for gentle words.

“It’s just,” He begins hesitantly, “Well, the good news is that you haven’t pinched or strained anything.”

“Good news?” Chan echoes, “Is there bad news?” He lets a nervous giggle fall from his lips even as he relaxes into Felix’s hands.

“Not necessarily?” Felix says uncertainly, “It’s just. Well. Your mark has changed.” He pauses a second and pulls out his phone, quickly snapping a picture and then passing it around so Chan can see. “Something’s been added.”

Felix lets the implication of his words sit untouched in the air as the three of them wait for Chan to process what this means.

Ironically, Chan was the least familiar with his own mark out of all of them. His and Minho’s both resided on their backs so it stood to reason that the two of them didn’t see their marks very often. So it was no surprise that it took Chan several, very long, moments to spot the tiny changes.

When he does, Chan pulls in a deep, stuttering breath. The pain is already fading out to an ache now that it’s been acknowledged and Chan isn’t sure how he feels about the extra confirmation.

He carefully pulls his shirt back down, breaking his soulmate’s line of sight like they hadn’t already burned the image onto their retinas. He doesn’t remove his eyes from Felix’s phone.

“I...” He trails off, “I have another soulmate?” His voice is filled with wonder as he marvels at the picture of his mark. He looks up at the rest of his soulmates currently in the van with awe. “We have another soulmate?”

“Yeah,” Minho whispers, voice choked with emotion, “Yeah it looks like it.”

Felix doesn’t wait for Chan to fully turn around before he’s pulling their leader into a bone-crushing hug, giddy, disbelieving, laughter spilling out of him even as tears prick at his eyes.

“Oh my god!” Felix celebrates quietly as Chan wiggles to return his hug just as tightly. “Oh my god.” The other man agrees.

Even as his soulmates celebrate around him, each feeling their own storm of emotions, Chan can’t quite grasp the reality of the situation.

Stray Kids was a uniquely large soul cluster. From the beginning, when it had become evident that Hannie wasn’t his only soulmate, it had caused issues. Then came Bin, and the rest had followed like dominos. Each time their circle expanded he’d thought “this has to be it, right?” and each time there was a little voice in the back of his mind saying, “No, not yet.”

The issue was that that feeling, that little voice saying ”not yet”, the knowledge that they weren’t complete, had never gone away.

By the time they had all met, none of them could spot anything obviously missing from their marks. All of them were completely colored, lines drawn, images complete. And yet, every one of them felt that hollowness of an incomplete bond.

They’d talked about it a lot. Individually, as a group, in pairs and in quartets and seemingly endless combinations. It was hard, as the years went by, to ignore that nagging feeling.

Chan would always remember Jeongin crawling into his bed in the middle of the night, crying and apologizing for not being enough. Could never forget taking Jisung to a rage room so they could both break down their feelings or drinking with Changbin and wondering if it was wrong for them to be so greedy as to want more when they already had so much.

After so many years, they’d begun to wonder if they were just broken. If they didn’t have another soulmate out there after all, and it was all in their heads.

It had been hard. It was hard.

And now that little blank space in his soul was painted with someone else’s colors and Chan felt whole in a way he wasn’t sure he’d ever experience.

It kind of made him want to cry.

He wanted to cry even more when Felix innocently asks, “So what were they like?” An unmatched eagerness in his eyes as Chan pulled away.

That one guileless question triggers a realization in Chan that has his groaning in despair and slumping forward back onto Felix’s shoulder.

“I don’t know.” Chan mumbles into the shoulder of the slighter man.

“What was that?” Jisung questions from where he and Minho were still turned toward him, obviously as curious as Felix.

“I said I don’t know!” Chan wails, wilting further into Felix’s frame.

“How do you not know?” Minho questions incredulously. Felix gasps as he connects dots he’d been too excited to before.

“I didn’t even know my mark had changed before now,” Chan explains miserably, “I don’t even know exactly when the pain started.”

Jisung sucks in a hiss of air, sympathy splashed across his face. “Oh geeze,” he breathes out, “How many people have we met today alone?”

“Ok, well,” Felix interjects, “Not ideal, but we’ll figure it out!”

Minho turns his incredulous stare onto the optimistic man.

"How are we going to figure it out?" He demands, "Because there were tens of thousands of people in that stadium and I know every single one of us shook dozens of hands tonight."

Felix wilts a little bit even as Jisung comes to his defense, "We kind of have to figure it out, hyung," he points out, "And soon. We're back to Seoul soon."

"Okay but how?" Minho challenges, "And don't give me any 'with the power of love and fate' crap."

"We might have to rely on fate." Chan shrugs, dejected. "It's not like I have a description or anything to give out."

"It'll be okay Channie hyung," Felix pats Chan's back lightly from where they're still entangled together, "It'll have to be."

The van descends into silence as the four of them contemplate their new situation. After a few minutes Chan leverages himself up and out of Felix's embrace to frown aimlessly at his knees.

"Well," Felix breaks the silence, "We don’t have any more shows after this, and we have some days of break time, right?”

“Right,” Chan confirms, “We have tomorrow off and then we’re returning to Seoul to start working on the next album.”

“But officially,” Felix hedges, “We have, like, an entire week off, don’t we?”

“Not quite, but sure,” Chan hesitantly agrees.

“Well, we know they were in town for the concert at least,” Felix continues, “So as long as they didn’t leave the city immediately after, I mean, there's seven more first contacts to go, right?”

“Are you saying we should spend our break wandering around trying for first contacts?” Jisung asks, “Because I’m all for searching for them, but I don’t know that aimless wandering is gonna help.”

Chan holds up his hands to halt that conversation before it could devolve into a bigger debate.

“Let’s shelve that for now, and meet up with the others at the hotel,” He suggests, “We should discuss this as a group anyways.”

He receives a variety of agreements and the four of them settle in for the short remaining drive back to their hotel. He absently hands Felix’s phone back to him and retrieves his own from his pocket to ask the others to meet them in his room.

Chan looks out the window, post-concert fatigue all but a memory. As the buildings pass by, he can’t help but hope that their mystery soulmate was looking for them too.

You reaffirm your decision to never ever meet your soulmates as Taylor loads you into the car, arm wrapped protectively around your shoulder the whole way.

It was one thing when your stupidly large soul cluster was just an idea. Knowledge you held, but unactionable in any way.

It was another when you had evidence, in the form of little white flowers burning with warmth on your skin, that they were real, physical, people.

Even worse when you knew that they were a group of very famous musicians.

You hadn’t actually been sick when you’d texted Taylor, who’d thankfully managed to get all of the autographs he’d wanted before he’d checked his phone to try to find you, but you were getting there. Anxiety had nausea creeping up your throat like molasses.

You’re beyond grateful when your roommate doesn’t question your sudden illness, the both of you well aware that you were hale and hearty when you’d left the house.

Taylor just buckles you in like you’re something precious and fragile and takes the wheel.

The two of you drive in silence the entire way home. It’s not awkward, but you can’t deny the weight of something heavy in the air. The buzz of the concert still lingered between the two of you, and it only made the silence stifling and itchy.

When you pull into your apartment complex neither of you speak for a long moment.

“Sorry for ruining the day.” You murmur to the air in front of you. Taylor just reaches over to pat your thigh and unclip your seatbelt.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” He assures, “Don’t sweat it.” He hesitates a moment before continuing.

“I’m not gonna push,” Taylor begins gently, “But you know you can talk to me, right? Whatever happened, I’m not gonna judge. I just wanna be here for you.”

“What makes you think something happened?” You mutter mulishly. Taylor just gives you a look that has you sinking into your seat.

“It’s nothing. I’m just being dramatic.” You admit. He bumps your shoulder with his and climbs out of the car.

“It’s not nothing if it makes you feel something.” He tells you as he goes. The two of you walk up to the apartment in silence, contemplative this time.

You think about telling him as the two of you separate to wash the concert off of yourselves. You think about it as you take turns using the bathroom and as you make dinner side by side. You think about it as you settle in front of the couch at his feet as his hands automatically pull your head to his knees, his fingers digging into your hair just how you like.

You want to tell him, you decide. You do. It's just that. Well...

Your sister was right, in a way. You’d known Taylor for over a year now, but the two of you didn’t really know much about each other. You really were just roommates.

You didn’t know what his favorite color was. You didn’t know the names of his parents, or if he had any siblings. You barely knew what he did for a living. He’d only ended up your roommate by virtue of you responding to his “roommate wanted” ad with full willingness to be murdered on the spot.

At the same time, the two of you knew everything about each other. You knew how he took his coffee in the morning, that he preferred his eggs dry and over-seasoned. You knew the bands he liked and the games he played. You knew his hobbies better than you knew your own sometimes, and more about his friend’s drama that you ever wanted to.

You know the important things, you think.

You know that every word you tell him in confidence will be clutched tightly all the way to the grave.

“I met my soulmate today.” You confess, your cheek pressed to his knee, half-asleep.

The words somehow feel like they were snatched from the darkest depths of your soul as they spill from your lips. You make no move to take them back.

Taylor’s hand, to his credit, only pauses for a moment. Then he treats your hushed admission like any other comment made while you nod off to dramas the both of you know you only watch for him, resuming the soothing movement of his hand and humming lightly to acknowledge you.

You think it’s that casual treatment that lets you find the courage to continue.

“Well, one of them anyway.” You mumble. Taylor hums his interest, but doesn't take his eyes off of the screen and doesn’t stop petting your hair.

“I don’t want to meet them. There’s so many of them and only one of me, y'know? I don’t even know how to love myself, how am I supposed to love eight other people?” Taylor says nothing still, his eyes glued to an episode of a drama you know the two of you have already finished three times over.

“I’m scared I’ll fuck it up. I’m scared they’ll fuck me up.” Your voice cracks as you breathe life into one of your deepest fears. You realize as you say it that you’ve never voiced these thoughts aloud before, even to yourself.

Tears prick at the back of your eyes when you admit, “I’m not ready for them. I don’t think I can be.”

Taylor finally gives in to the seriousness of the conversation and hauls you bodily up onto the couch. You go willingly, but with rag-doll limpness. He rearranges you to his liking and you find yourself in Gossip Position, sitting criss-cross facing him.

“First of all,” He starts in, his usual levity giving way to a seriousness you rarely see from him, “Don’t be mean to my best friend. I’ll hit you.” You ignore his threat in favor of the warm feeling in chest at hearing him call you his best friend.

Take THAT Ma! No friends your glorious behind.

“Secondly, you are literally the most loving person I have ever met in my life. You would fit the entire world in there if you could,” He pokes your chest, right above your heart, for emphasis, “So I’m not that surprised you have more than one soulmate.”

“I have eight though,” You argue, “Isn’t that weird?”

Taylor just shrugs. “I mean, yeah. But weird is basically your brand, so...” He trails off with a teasing smirk.

You shove him a bit in retaliation, but he just grabs your wrists to still you and continues speaking before you can argue.

“I don’t think eight soulmates is enough for you, honestly,” He muses, “I mean it when I say you’re the most loving person I know. I think you’d even try to take care of Danny if he needed you to.” The mention of Taylor’s very creepy second cousin sends a shiver down both of your spines.

The worst part is that you can’t even argue with him.

“But you know, even with eight soulmates, you don’t have to be with them.” Taylor suddenly switches tracks to reassure you, “They’re your soulmates sure, but you’re your own person. They’re for you, it’s not like they are you. You can live without, if you really want to.”

The two of you let that statement settle for a moment. He’s right, you know all too well. Still, the thought leaves a wad of uncomfortable and complicated feelings lodged in your throat.

After a moment’s pause, you break the silence.

“I have too many years of trauma and not enough therapy money to unpack everything I’m feeling right now.”

Taylor cracks first, and giggles come pouring out of the two of you. The joke wasn’t even funny, but you guessed the two of you had been serious for far too long.

Some minutes later, when the giggles finally die down and you return to watching Taylor’s show, you find yourself with your head on his shoulder.

“Whatever you decide, you know I’m here for you, right?” Taylor quietly picks up where the conversation had left off.

“Sure,” you agree, “Like I was there for you when you cried over a boy I told you wasn’t shit.” You completely deserve the elbow to the side you receive for that comment.

“Shut up, I’m being cheesy!” Taylor scolds with a laugh.

“I’m lactose intolerant!” You complain, but obligingly fall silent.

“Seriously,” Taylor insists, “I’ll be here every step of the way. Whatever you need.”

You wrap your arms around the one of his that you’re leaning on and give a gentle squeeze to show your appreciation. “Thanks Tay.” you murmur.

“Of course. You got me front row tickets to a SKZ concert, we’re ride or die whether you like it for not!” You poke his side to scold him for not being serious after just insisting that you be, but end up having to fight for your life when he immediately retaliates by trying to tickle you.

It takes the two of you quite a while to calm down again, Taylor smug in his victory. He holds your ankles in his lap like trophies of war as you stare at the ceiling. The quiet creeps back in quickly, so you speak.

“I’m just not sure what I want, I think.” You tell him, “I don’t want to meet them. But at the same time, I really do, y’know?”

Taylor nods, “Just let the universe do its thing.” he suggests, “If you’re meant to meet them now, you’ll meet them regardless of what you want. But after you meet them, it’s all up to you.”

You nod along, humming your acceptance of his advice. He’s right, again. You can’t really fight fate, even if you desperately want to. But even within that large restraint, you’re a human being with free will. The world is your oyster and all that.

You let your thoughts fade out and just listen to Taylor yap about the drama on the TV as he finally tunes back into it.

It’s nearly dawn when the two of you decide to turn in, post-concert jitters having deserted you and heavy conversations having taken their toll.

“Did you manage to get their name before you bolted?” Taylor asks out of nowhere as you’re walking to your respective rooms. “Your soulmate’s” He clarifies at your confused look.

“Oh, I didn’t need to.” You answer absentmindedly, already opening your door and dreaming of your cozy sheets. “It was Bangchan.”

You close your door on his gawping face, blissfully unaware of the crisis you’d just sent him into.

Perma Tag List: @Mbioooo0000

#skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #skz fanfic #w.i.p fic #skz fic #w.i.p #baby writes #SGAU #Soulmate Garden AU #Soulmate AU #SKZ soulmate AU #stray kids soulmate au

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sl-newsie · 10 months ago

Text

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 1: Stuck

Birmingham, England, 1919

Much like America, it is an empire of industry. Giant factories tower over the slums and shacks, with drunks, thieves, and whores alike all sulking in the shadows. Smoke and ash cloud the sky and block out what little sun there is, as well as fill everyone’s lungs with foul air. With sparks flying everywhere it’s a miracle nothing catches fire. The gloomy and dreadful atmosphere is enough to make anyone faint, vomit, or lose hope altogether.

But I’ve got something these folks do not.

I am an American.

While that may not be astonishing to some, to me it means that I’m independent, as well as rambunctious and a bit of a rebel even for my culture. My family always says I’m too rash and stubborn, and that it will diminish any chance of me finding a husband and settling down for a proper life. But I’m in no mood to marry, so sue me for actually enjoying my life.

However, at the moment I seem to be in a bit of a pickle. You see, I don’t travel much. Yes there’s the occasional trip out of state, but never in a million years did I think I’d ever go to England. Of all places, my family chose to vacation in Manchester, England. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a beautiful country with gorgeous countryside views and polite accents… that is until you reach the deep city. Then it gets bustling and dangerous, which is how I came to be where I am now. We decided to travel by train, stopping in Birmingham on the way to London before we headed home. Lord knows why I decided to stray away and get a better look at the intriguing shops, but after an hour of desperately searching for my family it finally sunk in that I was, quite frankly, alone. Talk about a dumb-headed move on my part. I passed back and forth through the train station for hours as night fell, growing more and more worried about what kinds of danger Small Heath, Birmingham has hiding in the darkness.

Right now, people are giving me mixed looks of pity, confusion, and judgment. I know I’m not much to look at, with my messy blonde hair stuffed under a simple hat and my slim figure dressed in a gray dress with black heels. I probably look much richer than I really am, which makes my fear of criminals spike even more.

“Might I help you, young lady?” A sinister voice calls out.

He's a drunk, I’m sure of it. A man in a ragged overcoat staggers over, and he’s reeking of alcohol.

“No, I’m waiting for someone. Please leave me alone.”

“Oh, no. You’re all alone? Perfect…” He licks his lips and starts reaching his hand out-!

“Back off! She’s with me.”

I look over and see an older man wearing a trenchcoat and bowler hat. He’s got a simple mustache, is smoking a pipe, and carrying a briefcase. Is he a cop?

“Says who, old man?” The drunk slurs.

But instead of answering, the man slugs the drunk in the nose and ushers him off. When he turns back to me the bowler hat man extends a hand to shake.

“Excuse me, miss. I’m Inspector Chester Campbell. Who might you be?”

“I- I’m Verena, Verena Steenstra.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Verena. I’m here for private matters, sent by Churchill on account of a BSA munitions robbery. I am here to weed out prime suspects and possibly recover some stolen items that belong to the Crown. You wouldn’t happen to know an Arthur or Thomas Shelby, would you?”

I shake my head. “Sorry, can’t say I have. I’m new to these parts, just having arrived from America yesterday.”

He nods. “Well it’s best if you don’t, miss. They’re ruthless, the lot of them. Gangsters, bookmakers, racketeers. The gang they’re part of call themselves the Peaky Blinders. You best be getting indoors instead of wandering these dreadful streets at this hour.”

When Campbell sees my uneasy expression he frowns. “You do have a place to stay, right?”

“Actually sir, I was… left here by mistake. My family left hours ago and I’ve been here ever since.”

Campbell’s eyes soften a little. “I’m sorry to hear that, miss. If I knew the area I’d find you an inn or hotel, so the most I can do is guide you to the desk clerk in the train station.” He gestures for me to follow him and leads me over to the back desk, where a middle-aged lady is typing. “Hello, would you happen to know where this young lady might find any lodgings?”

The lady gives me a once-over and tilts her head. “Maybe ask Harry at the Garrison. That’s a local pub nearby. You can’t miss it. Just ask for Harry.”

We thank her and head back outside, where it’s starting to get dark.

“I’m sorry to leave you here, but I’ve got my own appointments to attend.” Campbell grips his briefcase and waves to signal a passing cab. “You’ll be alright?”

I try to give a convincing nod. “Yeah, as good as I can I guess. Good luck with your investigation.”

“Best of luck to you too, miss. You’ll need it if you want to survive this wicked city.”

And with that, the inspector climbs into the cab and is driven off. Leaving me, once again, alone. But at least this time I have an idea of where to go and what to do. I tightly grip my small suitcase and begin walking down the bustling streets, trying my best to ignore the… less than Christian crowd that hovers around.

“God does not care if you live in a slum or in a mansion!”

A man’s voice draws my attention, and I look to find the source coming from down the street. He sounds Jamaican, and seems to be a minister of sorts.

“God does not care if you are rich or you are poor!”

I approach slowly, not wanting to interrupt. “Excuse me, sir? Where would I go to find the Garrison?”

The man frowns at me, confused. “What’s a lass like you doing in this part of town? Don’t you know it’s dangerous?”

“I understand that. I’m looking to find a place to stay, so I’ll ask again. Where can I find the Garrison?”

The man looks at me as if I’ve signed my own death note, then points to the building down the street. “There. But God be with you if you want to persevere with what kind of men go in there.”

I thank him and walk towards the building. It’s definitely a pub, because there’s drunk men staggering out and vomiting everywhere.

“Look out!” Someone shouts.

Without warning, a small person plows into me and sends us tumbling into the dust.

“Dear God, what on Earth…?” I gather myself up and get a look at the person, or should I say kid. He’s a young boy with a conservative haircut, wearing dark pants, a white shirt, and gray vest. One might say he dresses just as professional as any stockbroker.

“I’m sorry!” He says in a worried manner and looks as if I’m about to slap him. “I didn’t mean to, I swear!”

I gotta say, seeing this boy speak in an English accent is downright cute!

I kneel down to seem less intimidating and hold out a hand. “Hey hey, it’s alright, kid. It was an accident. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He nods and shakes my hand, now looking at me differently. “You sound different.”

“I’m American, from New York. Now what was it you were running from?”

“Oh, right!” He points to the alley he just ran from. “I’m playing hide-and-seek with my aunt.”

I frown. “And you’re out here, in the dark, at this time of night? It may not be my place to say, but you should probably go back inside. Where’s your aunt now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well that’s not going to get us anywhere. You got a name?”

He smiles and nods eagerly. “I’m Finn, Finn Shelby. I’m 10 going on 11!”

“Wow, that’s old! So Finn, how about you head inside with me and we can find a way of contacting your aunt? That sound alright?”

“Finn! We were looking for you!” A man comes walking up, wearing dark clothes and a cap. When he sees me next to Finn, the man’s eyes darken. “Who are you?”

I ignore his question and look at Finn. “Do you know him?”

“Yeah, he’s my brother John.”

Now I know that I can trust this man. “I’m nobody. Just a lost tourist who’s looking out for Finn.”

The man looks confused. “Why? You don’t know him.”

“That doesn’t matter. I’d look out for him as if he was my own child because no kid should be wandering around at this time of night.”

He scoffs. “What are you, some nun or midwife? Doesn’t matter. Come on, Finn.” John takes the boy’s hand and starts walking away.

“Nice to meet you!” Finn calls before they’re out of sight.

“Goodbye!”

Now to get back to the task at hand. While being as inconspicuous as possible, I sneak past the gruff men and enter the strangely quiet bar. I gotta say, it’s surprisingly clean. Compared to the filthy world outside you’d think the king himself would eat here. But I know better. I can tell this place has seen its fair share of violence, but I give credit to the barman for keeping it spiffy. Gruff and sketchy-looking Brits sit scattered all over the room. Murmured conversations ghost around the room, confirming that this is yet another place I shouldn’t be at. A few turn their heads, but seem uninterested… for now. I hold my suitcase close and discreetly make my way to where the barman is standing.

“You don’t know me, but the desk clerk at the train station said to ask for someone named Harry.”

The barman, just like everyone else, seems to think I’m a fish out of water. “I’m Harry. What do you want?”

“She said you could tell me where to find a place to stay. I’ll pay what I can, I swear. I just need somewhere to sleep until I can find a way to get back to America.”

His face changes. “America? You mean you’re stuck here?”

“For the time, yes.”

First Harry goes to say something but then seems to look over at someone behind me. This changes his demeanor and he gestures for me to sit.

“Can I get you anything?”

I shake my head. “I don’t drink.”

“I do,” a woman’s voice says behind me.

A dark-haired woman wearing a gray suit sits up next to me, her face being shielded by a hat.

Harry nods respectfully at the woman and pours a shot of whiskey. “On the house, Polly.”

She gladly takes the glass and downs it, looking at me with calculating eyes.

“Name’s Polly, love. Polly Gray.”

“You seem to be a woman who knows what she’s doing, and how to conduct authority,” I reply.

“And you seem to be a woman who has nowhere to go. Am I right, love?”

I look away and become more interested in staring at the table. “Yes, ma’am. I’m currently homeless, jobless, penniless, and on the verge of hopeless.” I look back up. “But I’ve got a song in my heart and a gleam in my eye, so that’s all I can do for now.”

Polly laughs and twirls the shot glass in her hand. “Well a song and dance isn’t going to take you far, love. It’s best if you come with me.” She stands back up and starts pulling her coat back on.

My thoughts freeze. Did I hear that right? This person, this complete stranger who has no inkling of who I am, wants me to go with them? Where? And what for? Inspector Campbell said to be careful.

“Wait- what? What do you mean?”

Polly walks to the door, unfazed by my questions. “I saw you interacting with Finn. You treat him as both a child and an adult, which is something I respect. You’re not too sour but still know when to show a firm grip. I’d like to hire you as his tutor. He needs help studying, as well as someone to make sure he doesn’t shoot his eye out.”

My jaw drops. “Shoot his… But how-?”

“Don’t ask. I have to deal with the most ridiculous idiots this side of England, you have no idea!” She scoffs as I follow her back into the inky night. “The fact is that I need a tutor, and you need a roof over your head. So, do you want the job or not?”

I try to form words but all that comes out is a babbling mess. My thoughts are fried! What reason do I have to even trust this Polly character?

“You’re conflicted,” Polly states plainly. “I can understand why.”

“Yes! Because- because I’m alone! I- I have no one to help, but everyone says I can’t trust anyone here, and then you happen to be passing by… I don’t know what to make of it!”

Polly puts a hand on my shoulder. “Love, one of the things I always go by is my faith. If fate had it so you would be here to help Finn and get my attention, then God has spoken. My trust is not so easily won over, so I suggest you consider this chance very seriously.”

She’s right. Everything’s led to this. Besides, she’s right. I need a job.

“Yes, I accept your kind offer.” I hold out a hand and we shake. “Thank you, Mrs. Gray.”

“I may be your employer but there’s no need for that formality. Polly’s fine, love. And yours?”

“Verena Nora Steenstra,” my name flies right off the tongue.

“That’s Dutch, I’d imagine?”

I nod. “Yes, after my great grandmother. My father’s Dutch, my mother’s Irish.”

“Ah yes, you Americans and your mixed heritages.”

She doesn’t seem upset by it, and I’m glad she doesn’t inquire further. My family isn’t cruel, but we’re not exactly the most wanted people in New York. My uncle on my mother’s side is part of the Irish mob in Brooklyn, so our reputation is a bit strict.

Polly leads me through the dark streets and people seem to be aware not to test her. Crowds scatter away to let us pass, not even daring to meet her eye.

“You have authority here?”

“Of sorts. People know better not to start a quarrel. Here we are.”

The house itself is simple-looking on the outside, something I admire. Polly opens the door and shows me inside, which displays a traditional cross hung in the hallway. I follow her past a kitchen and into a small room near the back, one containing a simple bed and vanity as well as a single window.

“Bathtub’s down the hall. I’ll leave you here to settle in, I trust the lads will guide you through the house. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must attend a family meeting. Finn’s around here somewhere if you wish to chat.”

I set my suitcase on the bed and look at Polly with sincere gratitude. “Thank you so much. You really saved me from a tight pickle, and I promise I will do everything I can to repay you.”

Polly smiles and, to my uttermost surprise, comes over to give me a hug. “No problem, love. You seem like a decent girl, even if you are American.” She snickers and goes to walk out, then turns to say: “One more thing: when you meet Thomas, just know he’s a bit rough around the edges.”

I squint in bafflement. “Thomas? Who’s-?”

But she exits before I can finish. So just to be clear: Now I need to teach a boy from a family I just met and am expecting to meet someone who’s ‘rough around the edges.’ Yay?

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fucking blinders #peaky fookin blinders #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #polly gray #arthur shelby #john shelby #finn shelby #grace burgess

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 10 months ago

Note

Am I the asshole for inadvertently causing a dispute in my family over a plushie?

I(18F) was awoken by the sound of my door opening. (it has no lock but it's pretty heavy. Very audible to hear throughout the house.) It was my two stepbrothers.(not specifying ages but not even preteens.)

They came looking for a plushie the oldest had left behind. I was confused when I woke up but caught on quickly to the situation. What confused me was the oldest had left for a time to visit family, and before he'd left, to my memory he'd given it to my sister. (late twenties F)

But I had assumed that he'd probably wanted it back so no big deal, my sister hadn't taken it as cold as that sounds, as it was in not great shape. I was sure once they saw it wasn't here they'd go away. However a problem arose. I share a room with my sister. who I'll call DeeDee.

DeeDee had recently gotten a similar plushie given to her by her boyfriend. And once they pointed to the plushie I saw the problem.

I told the kids this, and because I myself was unsure if it could be hers or theirs as last I remember my sister telling me she had left it at her partners, I told them to discuss it with my sister. Then stepmom comes in.

Stepmom had asked what I needed to discuss and what was going on. I told her about the plushies. She said she'd take it then, as she knew how my sister is. I was a bit peeved at her implication that my sister would take her son's old plushie. Especially as none of us have ever taken any of their stuff but I can count a handful of times my stepbrothers have.

However she's a bit protective when it comes to her kids being wrong, so I explained that it may be my sister's, and that even if it really was the old one, to my memory he had given it to her. He protested at this and called me a liar. She pointed out that the plushie was dirty, possibly proving it was her son's, but given my sister's track record of tidiness she has plenty of dirty plushies. She then said for now she'd take it and if it really was hers she'd return it and that this didn't need to be a big deal. I agreed. (She then said some other stuff but unrelated.) And soon she left.

Of course as there's a chance it is my sister's as I am still unsure, I called my sister to let her know, and that if it was her's to talk to our stepmom to return it. (Why they didn't wait for my sister to get out of the hospital confused me, but my stepmom has a record of being stubborn.) And this is where I can admit I am at fault for not waiting to tell her.

This led to a big dispute. My sister is very rash and impulsive. She has a record of overthinking. She and my stepmom are on rocky terms. I am as well, but less so.

She is now very, rightfully furious at my stepmom for grabbing her things without her permission. Even if I am still unsure of who it belongs to, I agree that wasn't the right thing to do. Where I disagree is that my sister threatened to take legal action against my stepmom and possibly deport her. She then hung up.

I texted her to think about this calmly so it didn't cause another big dispute. (My sister has always been the black sheep for her illness and how she copes with it.) Knowing if she blew up they'd believe her less and instead use this against her.

After a while she didn't respond so we left it at that. I did decide to inform my dad as impartially as I could that a possible argument could arise soon with my stepmom and sister. However he simply said he'd look into it unbiased and brushed me off. I accepted it as he was busy and I don't really know what I wanted him to do.

Then after awhile my sister texted more furious than she last seemed so I assume something went down with my step mom, that if she passed (a very likely scenario as we've had many close calls) she didn't want my father to see her and pointed the reason to our stepmom. (Albeit a lot more bluntly).

So am I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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puddle-nerd · 11 months ago

Text

Use Me

Summary: The funny thing was that had you been asked an hour ago if you’d ever thought you’d be in this situation, you’d have said no. (Recombinant Lyle/Human Female Reader)

Prompt #6 (Thigh Fucking) for Avatar12DaysofKinkmas2023.

Story Tags: No use of Y/N, Thigh Riding, Female Reader, Interspecies Sex, In Public, Size Difference

Added Update: The lovely artwork I used in my banner (I found it on Pinterest) belongs to @thevanityofthefox 🤍🩵💙💜❤️ Thank you for such wonderful depictions of Lyle

AO3 Link

Your naked body was situated upon his clothed lap, your hands cupping the back of his bare neck and your lips sealed to his as his tongue danced with yours. His large, blue hands were gripping the curve of your buttocks firmly, moving you leisurely back and forth over his thigh as he wanted, listening to you whimper and moan from the stimulation of rubbing your bare cunt over the rough material of his workout trousers stretched taught over his muscular thigh. Lyle pulled back with a chuckle and then bounced his leg, making you release a whine before you shuddered in pleasure.

The funny thing was that had you been asked an hour ago if you’d ever thought you’d be in this situation, you’d have said no.

You were a human soldier working for the RDA and had been off duty so you’d decided to go to the gym to make sure you didn’t allow yourself to go soft, what with the lower gravity, if you ever got rotated back to Earth (you hoped you didn’t because there really wasn’t anything back there for you). Wearing a tank top over your sports bra and some knee-length leggings in your favorite color, you’d gone for using the human-sized treadmill first to warm yourself up, blasting your music in your headphones to get yourself pumped up.

Across the way, on the more Na’vi/Avatar-sized side of the gym, was one of the recombinants – Lyle… Wainfleet, you thought his name was; like you’d come to know of his routine, he was lifting weights and he was shirtless, letting all those lean blue muscles of his torso and abdominals out on display, shimmering with a light sheen of sweat. Normally, it took a lot more to get you hot and bothered but there was just… something… about this particular recombinant that just did it for more easily than any human man had attracted you ever before. Maybe it was that humorous smirk he always seemed to wear when you saw him and the jokes, he always seemed to rattle off that had you fighting off a smile. Maybe it was seeing all those beautiful stripes, especially all over his scalp leaving his braided neural queue as a striking focal point amongst all that built sapphire muscle or the several tattoos decorating his skin. Either way, you always found your eyes drawing towards him whenever he was around.

And if the sudden current grin adorning his lips was anything to go by, he knew you were staring right now, too.

Until he looked up at you and stuck his tongue out, bracketing it with his index and middle fingers suggestively.

You stumbled upon the treadmill, ducking your face away from him as you cunt clenched in want and quickly spread your feet to stand on the side rails before you made an idiot of yourself and faceplanted on the machine and possibly bloody up your face. You cringed at your slight blunder and decided to try to slink away, turning off the treadmill as quickly as it would let you.

Only to nearly run into a blue wall of muscle.

You quickly took out your earbuds, craning your neck to see Lyle peering down at you with a wide smile. He laughed, “Aw, don’t hide yourself, baby. I like it when you stare at me. Makes me feel all tingly.”

You flushed and shook your head in amusement. “Sure you don’t need a medic for that?” you shot back teasingly, stepping around his body with a full body shiver as you noticed his hip bones peeking out at you from the waist of his trousers. You licked your lips, eyes lifting back up to his golden gaze as you added jokingly, “Might wanna get checked for a rash or oozing or something.” Only to yelp as his tail swatted at your backside in retaliation. “Excuse you, sir.” Lyle groaned, “Yeah, that does it for me, doll. C’mere.” You squeaked as Lyle scooped you up into his arms before he sat on a nearby bench, depositing you onto his lap, your legs straddling his thighs. You bit down on your lower lip and grinned up at him, enjoying the feel of his huge hands settling upon your hips rather possessively.

“Hi,” you murmured.

“Hi, baby,” Lyle replied, wiggling his eyebrows. “So… I don’t know if you realize this but I am really into you. Want to help me break my new in?” You raised your brows at his offer and bit down on your lower lip harder before you replied, “So, uh… I’m interested in this offer but, uh, it’s been a while. Before you fuck me, you’re gonna have to prep and stretch me first before I’ll be able to take something at least twice the size of a human.” He hissed as you palmed the front of his sweat pants, feeling his cock hardening in anticipation. “Think you’re up to the challenge, sir?”

The recombinant smirked, replying enthusiastically, “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.” Lyle quickly lifted you off his lap like you were nothing more than the weight of a feather – and he was almost twice your size so maybe you were comparable to a feather to his strong muscles – and stripped you eagerly, right there in the middle of the gym before laying you down onto one of the benches and lifting your legs to rest upon one of his shoulders so he could kneel in front of you. Quickly sliding his sweat pants down, he pulled out his hard cock and stroked himself as he took in your naked body with a beaming grin. “God, you’re so fucking hot,” he purred, his tail and ears twitching in building arousal. He quickly bent down and kissed you hungrily, gripping your backside and sliding his cock between your thighs. You reached out and cupped the back of his tattooed neck as your tongue battled his, moaning as he squeezed your ass and thrust his length up against your sopping entrance to increase your excitement. “Fuck, baby. You’re getting so wet for me, ain’t ya?”

You nodded, your breath coming in stuttered gasps as you begged, “Yes. Oh… god… Feels so good. More, please.”

Lyle bit down lightly on your shoulder and moved faster between your squished thighs. “Yeah, baby,” he grunted against your skin. “Keep moving… just like that. Make a mess all over me when you cum.” You shivered and whined, speeding up your movements as the coil in your belly tightened. “That’s it,” Lyle purred, his tail wrapping around your calf, his fingers digging into your ass. “That’s my girl. Cum for me baby. I want you to soak my pants.”

In retaliation, you reached out and tugged on his neural queue when it dropped over his shoulder, making him cry out and grind up against your clit harder, cum splashing over your belly and tits in glowing blue goop. “Fuck, Lyle,” you whined, your slick trickling out of your cunt as you hit your peak, saturating his cock and his clothing.

The recombinant laughed breathlessly.

“Damn, baby, I feel like a virgin again,” he joked.

You met his grin with your own replying, “I mean… technically you kinda are. Wanna go change that?”

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

Originally Posted: 19 December 2023 Word Count: 1,212

AO3 Link

#avatar12daysofkinkmas #avatar #atwow #avatar smut #human reader #recom lyle wainfleet #lyle wainfleet #lyle wainfleet smut #lyle wainfleet x reader

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not-5-rats · 6 months ago

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I love the idea of Sugarboo bitching to their friend about Seth before going to talk to him (they tell their friend that he isnt actually that bad when they get back though) and their friend getting super annoyed at him for being...the way he was lol, then one day that friend comes over for an evening

(f/n = friends name, SB = Sugarboo but 'SB' = sugarboos name)

SB made them promise not to say anything rude and at first they did pretty well...but it was tricky for them. Ever since they were kids f/n had always defended SB, against bullies, creeps, their parents, anybody! And that wasn't ever going to change, not even now. It doesn't matter who this guy (Seth) was he had decided to be a dick towards SB and now f/n was gonna let him know what they thought about that.

It started with small things like calling SB Jo (Jolene) or Doll (Dolly Parton) in reference to what Seth called them when they met, saying that SB seemed quieter recently, noting how happy SB is with Al and that they've never seen them so peaceful in life (giving Seth quite the look as they said it).

Seth picked up on it but Al/SB suprisingly didn't so he convinced himself he was just overthinking it.

Later on Al and SB had to head out to the shops to get drinks, Seth said he would stay here and f/n decided to stay as well. When they first left the two spoke about how f/n and SB met, what f/n had been up to recently, what the trio had been up to and that's when they started making more obvious jabs at him

"So...heard you were quite dramatic when you introduced yourself"

"Oh, I'm guessing 'SB' told you all 'bout that huh?"

"You bet, they told me everything, everything you said, all the ways you put them down, made them feel they didn't belong, didn't deserve what they had. What they worked so hard to get"

He stared at them for a moment, he knew what he had done was rash and rude but he didn't know it had affected them that much

"Listen I know it was stupid, I didn't think about ho-"

He was cut off by f/n talking again

"No, I'm not done talking. Honestly woulda thought you'd learned some manners by now"

They rolled their eyes before continuing

"You made 'SB' feel like shit, worse than they've felt in a very long time. They have been through so much and finally after all this time they had found something, someone, that mad them happy. Gave their life thay purpose they had been searching for...but then you decided that you had to try and destroy all of it"

They paused their gaze falling to a picture SB had taken of themself and Al after baking, both of them covered in flour, smiling as Al wrapped his arms over SBs shoulders from behind. It was printed out and framed on the wall. They went to say something then their eyes drifted to a picture just below it, this one taken by Al. It was a photo of Seth and SB curled up together on the couch, they were both asleep but it was clear they were happy. f/n stopped and sighed

"You were a right asshole, and I'm holding it against you, I still don't like you at all...but 'SB' seems happy with you around"

There was silence for a minute as f/n looks back at Seth

"So I'm not gonna dig into you too much, but know this"

f/n leaned forwards in their chair, glaring over at Seth who was sat on the couch (Al and SB had previously been sat next to him)

"I am 'SB's closest friend, they mean the world to me and I don't want any harm coming to them. So if I hear that you've done anything that could lead to them getting hurt, I'll make sure they drop you faster than you could ever think possible"

Silence. Until it was broken by the sound of the front door opening and SBs voice could be heard from the hallway

"Heyyy! You two still here?"

"Hey babes! Yeah we're still here, been waiting for you two slow coaches to get back!"

The two appeared at the doorway, Al holding a carrier bag

"Jeez you are so impatient f/n-"

f/n shrugged and smiled as Al and SB took their seats back on the couch

The night went on as normal except Seth was off in a way the whole time, when f/n was leaving them and SB spoke on their own by the door

"Seems you've got a nice couple of boys here"

"Yeah, I love them. Being around them makes me happy"

f/n smiled and gave SB a pat on the shoulder

"I'm glad, really I am. Well I best be going. See you another time though?"

"Of course! Message me when you get home!"

They bid farewell. Yet during their little conversation Seth had been talking to Al, telling him he was worried SB was still upset by what had happened, Al was confused and even though he told him that SB definitely wasn't upset about anything that happened Seth wasn't totally convinced.

That night he brought it up with SB when Al was getting ready for bed and they told him the same thing, they weren't upset, sure they had been at the time but they weren't anymore. They're not the kind of person to hold a grudge. Then they asked him what brought this up, at first he shrugged it off but eventually he broke and told them about the conversation he had with f/n. When he was done explaining they looked at him and mumbled

"Oh really? I'm gonna go make a call, tell Al I'll be right back"

They then went and called f/n...what a convo that was. f/n explained that they were just worried about them, they didn't fully trust that guy and they didn't want anything to happen to them. SB told them that they can take care of themself and they don't need them watching over them anymore, they're not kids, they're an adult. The two made amends, f/n agreed it was out of line for them and SB told them that they appreciated the thought. They hung up and SB went back to their boys

"So...how'd it go?"

They got into bed and snuggled up between Al and Seth

"All good, f/n's just a bit of an idiot don't take anything they say too seriously hun"

#boo's friends dont really know when to let things go lol #yuurivoice #yuurivoice seth #yuurivoice bittersweet #jet's rambling again

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gardenofnoah · 1 year ago

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it lives where i live

part four

tags: healing, angst, hurt/comfort, childhood friends to ????, hopeful ending

wc: 2k

note: this was a weird thing for me to finish. i feel like i’ve changed so much as a writer and this chapter reflects that. i changed the pov for this chapter because i felt like it was important to see all of touya’s growth and inner turmoil directly. idk y’all this was my baby and it’s weird to say it’s done (also claps for bea for actually finishing a chaptered fic). alright love u be good

Touya starts to get it.

He has no idea what it is–only that he feels different, and he thinks that’s a good thing, maybe. He assumes it is, because there’s been considerably more enthusiastic head nods from his therapist through his screen each week.

It’s new. The therapist, anyway–the Hero Commission sanctioned therapist’s check ins (a generous title, considering the lack of any real therapy) had fizzled out and stopped all together soon enough, and it was at the tail end of another one sided phone conversation with Natsuo that he’d heard of a shrink with a reputation for treating those who’d been harmed by heroes.

“She has a surprisingly booked schedule,” Natsuo had said, half in jest and not without a tangible weight. If nothing else, Touya was curious–and bored. With nothing better to do, he decided to try a session. Before he knew it, he’d sat through the better part of four.

He doesn’t talk much–mostly because he’d talked a whole lot on a national scale and really, what else could he possibly have to say?–but lately, he’s found himself full of questions he doesn’t know how to ask. It’s hard–he doesn’t feel particularly brave these days, and to get his mouth to shift into the shapes of the words is enough of a challenge. But he tries–he figures that has to count for something.

He wants to understand your anger. There’s a weight to it–one that smacks into him solidly every time he’s on the other end of it. He’s not unfamiliar with anger–he’s been pissing people off for years now. But yours is different. Yours is heavy–you hate him and you run your fingers through his hair when he hides his tears in the toilet bowl and heaves out everything he’s buried deep inside himself at two in the morning. It’s not so easy to wrap his head around that part.

“Your friend.”

It comes through the speaker as a statement and not a question, and he scowls. Is that what you are to him? He’d been so sure that he’d never had a friend. But that can’t be right, can it? When everyone had moved on and away from him, but you had not—was that your friendship? The word tastes bitter and unsatisfactory on his tongue, but he doesn’t have a better one. He nods.

“Is that so surprising, Touya?”

He says nothing, only glaring into the camera. She sighs, wholly unimpressed.

“Think about it. You’ve mourned someone and then they show up out of nowhere, and they’re not that person you’ve been keeping in your heart all of this time. It’s like…a second death.” She says, tapping a finger to her chin as if to summon the words. “Another cycle of grief on top of the first. That’s a lot to feel, no?”

And he…knows that. You’d made it pretty clear, of course, but he feels it, now–like a rash. Your grief sits on his skin and festers in a way that his did not. His burned hot and fast and left him empty, and he woke up without a thought of what the consequences of that fire would be. Yours hit him like a brick wall the second he stepped foot through your door. That brick wall only gave way to cement–unending, uncomfortable.

It feels wrong to interfere with it–like for all he took away from you, this is the least he could give you. He can handle the anger, of course–he can sit in your white-knuckled fury and let it close in on him. That’s fine.

The crying is another thing entirely.

It’s not as if Touya is a stranger to tears, either–he saw his fair share of them wet the faces of those he cut down. Just like the anger, it never particularly bothered him. Not like yours do.

And maybe it’s because he doesn’t see them. The only indication that there are tears comes when he lays completely still at night, and he can just barely hear your sniffles through the wall. Something about it feels bad–unfair, maybe, the way you wait until you think he’s sleeping to let out what you’ve been holding on to. He almost wants to laugh at you–he’s already put you through this much. He would deserve to have all of the aftermath be aimed right at him.

But to lie to himself is evidently not off limits, because it does affect him. Every once in a while he’ll hear a whimper that twists his gut into a tight knot. He thinks of the promise he made you, all of those years ago. He tries not to, but your crying fishes it back to the surface–his stupid, idiot promises to protect you no matter what. Only to become the knife that keeps your hands pinned to the table. He doesn’t know how to protect you from himself. He finds himself still taking from you.

“Alright,” he mutters, coming back to himself. “M’hanging up.”

His therapist only laughs. “We made it 20 minutes this time!”

He starts eating dinner with you. You’ve been dropping little half-invitations for the last few weeks, and he’s been readily avoiding them. To sit across from you at your table feels too much like a confrontation–and the cowardice that he’s become accustomed to shuts it down before he’s even had time to really consider it.

But tonight you’re eating on the couch in front of the TV, and that feels better. In the dark and with a distraction, he doesn’t have to fully face you. He can think of you and you’ll be none the wiser.

He sneaks glances at you from the other side of the couch and finds himself struck–not for the first time–at how for all of the ways you are different now, you are still the same as you were when he was 13. He knows it’s nothing to do with how you look and everything to do with the way that you are–an anchor that both terrifies and comforts him. He woke up in that hospital bed and knew you were there on the other side of the glass before he opened his eyes.

Is that what friendship is?

He shakes himself out of his head when he feels you squirming next to him. From the corner of his eye he watches you fight with the blanket you’ve swaddled yourself in, somewhere between amused and endeared. It’s an unfamiliar feeling and yet, it feels like he’s felt it toward you all his life. He gives you another second to sort it out yourself before he feels bad. He forgets where he is, he forgets himself–he doesn’t think at all when he wraps his fingers around your foot to free it from the fabric tangling it.

Both of you freeze. For an aching moment, neither one of you blinks. And then you wrench your leg away from him like he’s burned you.

“Sorry,” you mumble, already standing, already shaking. “Sorry, I just–”

But you’re already halfway down the hall–voice tapered off in an explanation he doesn’t need to hear you finish because he already knows. Your door shuts quietly behind you, but creates such a divide between you that you may as well have broken it off its hinges. He doesn’t have to be still to know what’s happening on the other side of it.

He can’t listen to you cry again. His body makes the decision before his mind does, and when it finally catches up he’s standing in the middle of your room.

You’ve gone completely silent–he’s not even sure you’re breathing. Rigid and curled into yourself, you look pitiful. Something about it is hard to look at. His stomach twists and before he can stop himself, he’s reaching for the covers and sliding into the bed next to you. He closes his eyes and his body forms to yours on a memory he doesn’t have but feels he must. You make a wounded sound like he’s just punched you.

“Touya,” it’s barely a whisper and wholly a warning. There’s so much pain in your voice it makes him nauseous. He ignores it, snaking his arm around your waist to pull you to him. “Touya–”

“Just let it out,” he murmurs, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades. “Please. Let it go.”

He feels you freeze–and then the breath leaves you so violently it startles him. He’s almost relieved when he hears the accompanying cry.

He keeps his head pressed to the curve of your back in some strange hope that he might absorb your grief into himself. If he could just carry this, it’d be better. For you, anyway–he’s certain that what you’ve been carrying around would be enough to put him down, but he’d drop dead at your feet if it meant you could be free of what he’s done to you.

His arm tightens around you when he feels you start to fight his grip. “The hell are you doing–”

“Please,” you whimper–only half audible through a tight throat–and it renders him silent. “I just need to see you.”

He can do nothing but let you twist around, and he immediately wishes he’d have fought you on it, because to see your face right now is too much.

Even in the dark your eyes find his and for the first time he can easily name the sadness that permeates into his bones. Sudden and tender like a wound, it’s only a second before he’s pulling you closer for his sake–anything to not have to see. He’d burn the whole world down to not have to see what he’s done.

It's odd, knowing that it’s not necessarily guilt he feels–instead it is a mountain of what can only be his grief, looming and jagged with no perceivable path up it. He looks at you and you reflect back at him a version of yourselves he’d left behind. He takes in your gap toothed smiles and grubby fingers interlocked and tastes iron.

“I was afraid you were really gone.” Your chest shudders harshly against his own. It’s awful–the whole thing. He’s certain he’s never felt like this.

“Yeah,” he can’t get his voice above a whisper. “Me too.”

It’s painful—the child in him that he believed to be destroyed. Looking him in the face now, you stand next to him, but a step behind. That hurts more than anything—the outstretched hand that he never reached for. How different things would have been if he’d have just turned around. He understands now—he’d left you both back there.

He holds you to his chest and feels, for the first time since back then, when something is knocked loose in his chest. He’s not afraid that he’ll bleed all over your bed, because he knows he already is. Something about the certainty of the way you are there, and he is right here next to you, shakes him. There are no tears left in him to shed, so instead he tries to steady shuddering gasps tucked into the crook of your neck.

And then it’s his turn to be held, and that’s painful too, because his skin is still so sensitive and his heart is breaking and god, does he wish he would’ve turned around.

He opens his mouth to say something and can only let loose a tiny, choked sound into the silence, and you understand. But that’s not enough—he needs to try. He needs you to know—to hear him and see that he tried.

“I wanted to find you.”

It shatters the quiet that’s been settled around the two of you. He wonders if it’s a cruel thing to say. He doesn’t know how to gauge your silence. He settles on filling it.

“Didn’t know how,” he whispers to the ceiling, “Was too late—I was too late—“

“Touya.” You stop his spiral and you sound tired. You lay shoulder to shoulder now, and when your fingertips drag up his palm and weave between his own, it feels like you’ve touched down to bone marrow.

“It’s not too late,” you tell him, turning your head to look him in the eye, “it’s not.”

There in the dark of your room, he thinks he could believe you.

#todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya x you #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi hurt comfort #mha fic #mha long fic #fic: it lives where i live

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lovetaroandtaemin · 7 months ago

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Johnny Can't Decide

Johnny Suh x Reader

Word Count: 1,392

Content Warnings: ANGST, Johnny and Reader are stressed out and snap at each other. If you think I missed a warning let me know!

Author's Note: The title was taken from the song of the same name from "Tick, Tick... Boom!" Also there will be a part 2, and it will be posted as soon as it's finished!

Fic is under the cut.

“Johnny, can you change Mina’s diaper? I’m putting laundry in the dryer.”

Johnny froze the second he entered your baby’s nursery. Between work and being a new father, he was stressed constantly and had no idea how to ask for help. He knew he had to get his shit together, but he was lost when it came to taking care of a baby. It also didn’t help that he was barely sleeping, and he was only eating during his lunch breaks at work. His friends had offered to help in any way they could, but Johnny was unsure of what exactly they could help with. So, he always said he was fine. However, he was very much not fine.

“Babe, I asked you to change Mina’s diaper. Why are you just standing in the doorway?”

“I was just thinking, I’m sorry."

“Less thinking, more doing. She’s gonna get a rash if she isn’t changed right away,” you said as you changed your daughter’s diaper. Once she was changed, you put her to sleep. Then, you sat at the kitchen table to do some thinking of your own.

You were not handling being a parent well at all. You were barely eating, barely sleeping, and barely functioning most days. Your mother had stayed with you for the first few weeks to help you care for Mina, but she had to go back home to take care of your sick father. Your work had also piled up while you were on maternity leave, and none of your coworkers were willing to help. You felt like you were drowning, and almost no one was willing to step in and pull you up for air.

The only exception had been your best friend, Chaewon. No matter what you needed, all you had to do was call and she was by your side. When you needed to vent, she listened. When you were overwhelmed taking care of Mina, she babysat so you could rest. You were incredibly grateful for a friend like her. Especially when your child’s own father seemed to barely put in an effort.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by Johnny giving you a hug from behind. As he hugged you, he said “I’m sorry. I’ve been really stressed out between work and the baby, and sometimes it makes me shut down. I promise I’m gonna be a better partner to you and a better father to Mina. I love you.”

“I love you too. Thank you, I needed a hug.”

“How about while Mina sleeps, we take the opportunity to get some rest? We could lie down on the couch and watch a movie.”

“That sounds great, honey. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

The two of you made your way to the couch, found a comfy position, and chose a movie from Netflix. It didn’t hold your attention long, however. The opening credits had barely finished and you were sound asleep on Johnny’s chest. He fell asleep shortly after you did, and the two of you got to rest and be together until a cry woke you up. Immediately you were off the couch and on your way to Mina’s crib, but you were stopped by Johnny, who insisted on giving you a break.

“Hey, little princess,” you heard from your bedroom, “how was your rest?” Mina cried louder in response, as if to tell her dad that she hadn’t slept well. “I know, little love, but it’s ok. I’ve got you. Daddy is right here.”

He carried her to the living room humming “Isn’t She Lovely,” a song that she had loved since the first time he sang it for her. You had no idea how, but something about it just instantly calmed your little girl. Hearing Johnny singing to her also filled you with joy that you never thought was possible before you became a mother.

The joy didn’t last, however. A month after your conversation with Johnny, you realized that nothing had really changed. He did help sometimes, sure, but most of the parenting duties continued to fall squarely on your shoulders. The only thing you could count on him to regularly take on was putting her to sleep with that stupid song. You used to love hearing Johnny sing to Mina, but “Isn’t She Lovely” had started to get on your nerves. The song that had once reminded you of your love for your baby and her father had become a cruel reminder of how little Johnny seemed to care. You decided that you would talk to Johnny again, and if he didn’t put in more effort, your relationship would be done.

The conversation went basically the same as it did last time, for the most part. He apologized and told you he was overwhelmed, but this time the two of you worked together to find ways to make everything that needed to be done less overwhelming. You called Chaewon, who had a daughter of her own, and asked her to help with taking care of Mina. She gladly agreed to help, and she and her husband, Mark, worked with Johnny a few days a week so you could rest. It was a good first step to what you hoped would lead to a stronger relationship and more balance in the amount of work done at home.

For about a month Chaewon and Mark helped Johnny get more comfortable changing diapers and making bottles. It was a huge help, and seeing Johnny so involved with caring for Mina made your heart soar. And anyone with eyes could see that Mina adored her father. She smiled every time he picked her up, and every time he sang to her, she was calm immediately. Their bond made you feel like no matter what, everything would be ok.

It only took a few weeks for everything to fall apart again. For a while after Chaewon and Mark stopped coming over, everything was great. Your little girl was taken care of, and both of you were feeling less overwhelmed. That all changed, however, when Johnny’s boss assigned him a huge project. Suddenly all of his time was taken up by work, and you were back to square one. He was also stressed all the time. This led to him snapping at you and ignoring Mina, and you were getting tired of the fighting. You decided to talk to him one night after dinner to see if you could come up with a solution.

“Honey? I noticed that you’ve been a little bit stressed about work. Is there anything I can do?”

“I’m fine, I just need to get this project done.”

“Johnny, darling, I love you. It’s obvious that this project is stressing you out, I just want to help.”

“I said I’m fine! God, why are you such a nag?”

“I’m not trying to nag you, for fuck’s sake. I’m trying to find some way to help you because you’re driving yourself crazy trying to finish this project!”

“I can handle it myself! Why does it bother you so much? I’m just trying to support you and Mina.”

“Do not bring Mina into this. You don’t even make an effort to be around for her anymore, you’re always fucking working.”

“Don’t act like I never make time for her.”

“You don’t, though. When was the last time you fed her or changed her diaper or put her to sleep?”

Johnny was silent.

“Exactly. I know that work can get stressful, believe me. My boss has me training 2 new people right now. But I can’t just ignore Mina when I’m stressed. She still needs to be taken care of, and I just wish that you would help me out a little bit.”

“You know that I have a lot on my plate right now”

“Yes, I know that. This whole conversation was supposed to be about how we could work together to fix that.”

Again, he was silent.

“You know what? I’m done. I’m gonna call Chaewon and see if Mina and I can stay with her. That will take some things off of your plate.”

Johnny started to say something, but was interrupted by a cry coming from Mina’s crib. You walked away to see what was wrong, leaving Johnny to think about what you had said.

You asked to be tagged, so @leejenowrld here it is! If you'd like to be tagged in part 2 either comment or send me a dm with the username that you want to be tagged. Thanks for reading! If you have a request either send it as an ask or a dm, and I'll write it as soon as possible!

#kpop fanfic #nct 127 #nct fanfic #johnny suh #johnny suh x reader #angst #non idol au

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cozy-writer · 1 month ago

Text

Always you

Pairing: Niko Vilhelm (Moilanen) x reader

Wordcount: 1100+

Summary: Your anxiety makes you distance yourself from Niko and the rest of the band.

Masterlist

You were traveling with the boys while they were touring Europe and everything had seemed to go alright so far. You were in Bulgaria and they guys couldn’t be happier with the alcohol prices and they had made sure you all had gone out over and over again, not letting it go to waste.

You and Niko had been dating for quite some time now, and he wanted you there when he was touring. You got a job that allowed you to work from anywhere, so you were eager to come with. Niko loved having you so close, even though the guys made fun of him for it.

So here you were, sitting outside a cafe, enjoying the beautiful weather and the cheap drinks. The guys had all ordered beers, while you had opted for a cocktail. “Oh here we go again, Y/N has to be expensive.” Joel said. You knew he was only joking but it made you regret your decision. So as soon as you could sneak away for a second you went over to the bar. “Could you change that cocktail to tap water, please?” “Of course, no problem.” The bartender said. You thanked them and made your way back to the band.

You knew Niko would never let you pay for your drinks, so making them as cheap as possible was a good alternative. As the drinks were brought to your table, Niko noticed what you had done. “No cocktail?” He asked. “I wasn’t feeling it after all.” You said, smiling at him, trying to disguise the true reason.

About a week ago you started to feel like you were interrupting and annoying the guys. Niko still made you feel as loved as ever, but you felt like the others didn’t want you around. And with every ‘funny’ comment they made, that feeling only got worse.

“You guys wanna go on a tour on an ATV?” Joel asked as he put his phone down on the table. “I just checked, there’s a tour not far from here.” “Sounds good. Do we get to go through mud and stuff?” Joonas wondered. “Yeah, there’s a whole trail to follow.” “Cool. Count me in.” Tommi said. “But Y/N probably doesn’t wanna come.” olli more said than asked. You got frustrated. “Maybe ask me instead of making an assumption.” You murmured. “You can come if you want.” Aleksi said.

You stood up from your seat. “No, you guys go ahead. I’ll do something by myself.” You said rather annoyed. You kissed Niko, then grabbed your bag and started walking away. To where? You didn’t know. You were in unfamiliar territory. But you needed to get away from the guys.

After about twenty minutes you had made your way back to your hotel. As you entered yours and Niko’s room, you sat down on the bed looking around the room. Maybe you should just go home. Leave the boys to enjoy their tour by themselves. You didn’t feel particularly wanted.

Maybe you made a rash decision, but you started packing up your suitcase. Once everything was packed, you wrote a short note to Niko, telling him you would see him when the tour was over. You laid the piece of paper on the bed and looked around the room once more, making sure you didn’t forget anything.

You made your way over to the front desk. “How may I help you?” The hotel receptionist asked kindly. “I’m going home, but my boyfriend is staying. I just want to return my card.” You handed her the keycard. She looked at you sadly, like she knew what was going on. “I hope you enjoyed your stay.” “Sure. It was fine. Thank you.” “You have a lovely day now.” She said as you turned away from her.

You made your way to the train station, where you bought a ticket to go home. You had always preferred trains over planes. Even though it would take you longer to get home, you decided the trip would do you good. You would have time to think things through.

You walked to the platform and sat down. It would be at least two hours before the train would arrive, so you sat down patiently, spending your time reading from your kindle.

It took half an hour before Niko called you. You wanted to ignore it, but you knew that wasn’t fair to him. “Hey.” You breathed. “Where are you?” “I’m going home. You guys should spend some time together without me being there.” “Are you kidding me? We’re all worried sick about you.” “Don’t worry. We’ll see each other when your tour is over.”

“No. No way.” You could almost see him racking his fingers through his hair. “Why are you doing this?” “I’ll only be disturbing you guys. You want to do this together, not with me there.” “Babe, they want you here. I want you here.” You closed your eyes for a second as you felt tears pricking in the corners of your eyes. “Niko, this is for the best. I love you.” And then you hung up.

Your phone kept ringing after that, not only from Niko but also from the others. You ignored them all.

It wasn’t until fifteen minutes before your train would show up, that you heard your name being called. “Y/N?” It came from behind you. You recognized that voice anywhere. You put your ereader down and stood up. “Niko.” You murmured. “Why would you just leave like that?” You took a shaky breath. “Because I’m only interrupting you guys' fun. You don’t want me here. None of you do.”

“What makes you say that?” He walked closer to you, grabbing your hands in his own. “I just feel like I don’t belong here.” “Baby, you’re the only thing that makes sense to me. The only one I always want around.” You looked in his eyes to see if there was any sign of deception. “The guys may make fun sometimes, but they want you here as well. They say you keep them sane. You’re always there for them when they need someone to talk to. You make us all laugh with your humor and smile at your kindness. Please don’t ever feel like you’re too much.”

You didn’t realize you were this important to them. A single tear fell from the corner of your eye and Niko wiped it away. “Please come back with me?” You couldn’t speak, your throat closed up by your emotions, but you nodded at him. He immediately grabbed you into his arms, kissing the top of your head.

#Blind channel #niko vilhelm #joel hokka #alex mattson #aleksi kaunisvesi #joonas porko #olli matela #tommi lalli #imagine #preference #drabble #one shot #story #mywriting #niko moilanen

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alwaysonthemend · 1 year ago

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Light My Love | JMK | PART 1

Author’s Note: Hey guys! I got a request from my bestie @bizzielisteningtogreta for some fake dating and I decided to go with Josh for this one. This was totally supposed to be just a single chapter thing but it started getting really long so I decided to split it into multiple parts. I’ve got most of part 2 written already and I’m thinking I can finish it up in a third. I hope you guys enjoy! I’ll be posting individual chapter warnings on each one to avoid spoilers. Also I’m calling this Light My Love because it involves a wedding and I’ve always thought that LML would be a perfect wedding song.

Part 1 Summary: Your mom calls you out of the blue to invite you to a family member's wedding, and she makes sure to mention your lack of significant other during the conversation. Frustrated, you tell her that you do have a boyfriend and that he’ll be coming to the wedding with you. It's a total lie, but your best friend Josh says that he’d be willing to pose as your fake boyfriend to get your mom off your back. You agree and problem solved. Except now you have to pretend to be in a relationship with the guy that you're secretly in love while attending a wedding. Could it get anymore cliché than that?

PART 2

Word Count: 5500

Warnings for part 1: Pining, unrequited love, masturbation, tiny bit of angst if you squint

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The most infuriating thing about this whole situation was that you had no one to blame but yourself. It all had started a few months ago when your mother had called you to invite you to your cousin’s wedding – a cousin whom you’ve barely even spoken to before. You’d immediately declined, stating that there was no reason for you to make the trip all the way back home for a wedding for someone that you didn’t even know.

“Y/n, come on.” She whined into the phone and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her tone. “Your father and I haven’t seen you in ages. We miss you, baby.”

“Mom…” You sighed, but you knew already that you would cave and show up anyway. If not for her, for your dad at least. As much as you and your mother argued, you loved your dad and you missed him terribly.

“Fine.” You said with a heavy sigh. “Just send me the date and all that shit. I’ll be there.”

“Wonderful! Oh baby I’m so excited to see you. I’ll RSVP for you. Just for one, right?” Her tone had immediately shifted to a far more snide one, as it often did when your love life (or lack thereof) was brought up. She always guilted you for not having settled down with someone, bringing up time and time again how disappointed she was that you hadn’t given her any grandchildren yet. Honestly, sometimes you felt like the possibility of a grandkid one day was the only reason she still tried to be nice and have a relationship with you. Anger immediately flooded you as she used that god awful tone over the phone and you would later blame your rash choice of words on the sudden change in blood pressure.

“Actually, Mom,” You spat angrily into the phone, “put me down for two. I’m bringing my boyfriend.”

“Really?” She asked loudly, not at all trying to hide the doubt in her voice.

“Yes, really. Thanks.”

And with that, you hung up. As soon as you clicked the phone off, the panic set in over what you had just told her. You didn’t have a boyfriend… hadn’t in years. If you showed up without one, she’d ridicule you and you’d never live it down, so you had to think of something. And that’s when your brain decided to make its second stupid decision of the day.

Josh.

You could call Josh and ask him if he would come with you and pose as your boyfriend. He’s your best friend, so you know that the two of you are comfortable enough around each other to be able to pass as romantic partners. And he already knows how your mother is, so there wouldn’t be a need for an awkward explanation for her. And honestly, if you were going to have to put up with your mom, there’s no one you’d rather have by your side than Josh. You quickly turned your phone back on and sent him a text.

You 1:43 PM

Hi Josh! I’ve got a huge favor to ask you

Josh 1:47 PM

Hey! What can I do for ya?

You 1:47 PM

My mom called, inviting me to a wedding and she assumed I wouldn’t have a plus one. And I kinda sorta yelled at her that I had a boyfriend and to RSVP for two.

Josh 1:48 PM

Okay… If you’re wanting me to magically spawn you a boyfriend, I’m afraid I’ve got nothing for you.

You 1:50 PM

Actually I was going to ask if you could please please please come with me and pose as my boyfriend? I’m literally begging you. I’ll do anything.

Josh 1:52 PM

Anything, you say?

You 1:52 PM

Anything

Josh 1:54 PM

Don’t think I’m not going to remember that you said that. But yes, I will pose as your fake boyfriend.

You 1:54 PM

Really?!

Josh 1:55 PM

So long as it’s when I’m actually in town, sure! I love weddings.

You 1:56 PM

Holy shit Josh. Thank you so much.

Josh 1:58 PM

No problem, my lovely fake girlfriend ;)

You clicked your phone off and collapsed onto the sofa, immediately regretting every decision you’ve ever made. You were excited to spend extra time with Josh if he could make it – even though you were going to have to be around your mother, but now there was the extra stress of being in a fake relationship with someone who you really wished you were in a real one with. Falling in love with Josh Kiszka had been the easiest thing you’d ever done. Not only is he incredibly attractive, but his kind and thoughtful personality just made it even easier.

There was a time in the very beginnings of your friendship with Josh that you thought he might have feelings for you too. But as the years passed without any real indication from him, your hope had dwindled to nothing. You figure that since he hadn’t said anything after all this time, then there probably isn’t anything to be said. Plus, as you’ve got to know him better, you realized that much of what you had assumed to be flirting was actually just Josh’s personality in general. He’s touchy – little brushes of his fingertips, extra long hugs, kisses to the cheek, and all that; it’s all just part of being friends with him. And he doesn’t believe in not giving compliments or praise when he feels it’s been earned – even if others might deem it too forward or weird. If Josh is appreciative that you’re a part of his life, he’ll just come up and tell you. If he thinks you smell particularly nice one day or he likes how you styled your hair, he’s going to tell you. And he’s not flirting at all, he’s just being honest. He’d told you once that he doesn’t believe in holding back when it comes to compliments and letting people in his life know that they’re important – his reasoning simply being, in his words, “You never know when the last time you’re going to talk to someone is. I refuse to live with the regret of wishing that I had told someone how much they mean to me.”

You tear up even now when you think about that conversation with him. That had been the moment you realized that no other human could ever live up to Josh. He’s so full of emotion and he makes the lives of everyone around him just a little better. He loves everyone with all of his heart and soul and you would be selfish to demand more of it to yourself. Out of all the stars in the sky, Josh definitely shines the brightest – but he’s not the star for you. So you learned to guard your heart around him more closely; to push his compliments and praise for you from your mind. It was painful, but keeping his friendship was worth it. You’d just take as much of him and his love as he was willing to give.

As it turned out, Josh was free for the weekend of the wedding, and you found yourself making the long drive home for the first time in years with Josh by your side.

“So,” he said, glancing at you for a moment before returning his eyes to the road. “How did we meet?”

“Huh?”

He glanced at you again and chuckled at your confused expression.

“We're fake dating right? We need a cover story.”

“Oh.” You also huffed a laugh at your original confusion. “I guess just keep it as simple and close to reality as possible, for the sake of not blowing it.” You said, glancing out the window.

“Smart.” Josh nodded, beginning to tap his fingertips on the steering wheel. It could have been one of his own songs or someone else’s, you couldn’t tell. “It is pretty funny how we met.”

You gave him a scowl.

“It’s not funny at all. It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing!” He laughed. “It’s fucking hilarious, is what it is.”

You roll your eyes and you can feel your cheeks heat up at the memory.

“Josh, imagine what it must feel like to meet your favorite singer and you proceed to spill hot coffee on their white shirt. That shit was so embarrassing. And so stupidly cliche.”

“It is pretty cliche,” he agreed, still smiling, “but it was very funny.”

“It’s terrible.”

“Terribly funny, yes.”

You shot him another glare and he just shrugged and giggled again.

“Whatever the case,” he continued, “let’s just keep that story but say we became friends and started dating a few months later.”

“Sounds good to me.” You paused a moment, staring out the window and watching the trees fly by. If only that had been the case. “I apologize in advance for whatever shitty comments my mom is inevitably going to make. She’s probably going to say something about you being a singer – no matter how famous.” You turned to look at him and squinted at the side of his head. “And she’ll probably say something about your hair.”

He looked at you in indignation.

“What the fuck is wrong with my hair?”

“Nothing. I just doubt she’s going to be a fan of a guy with a mohawk, that’s all.”

“It’s a mullet, not a mohawk.” He said, narrowing his eyes at you. “If you’re going to make fun of me, at least get your facts straight.”

“I’m not making fun of you!” You say, throwing your hands up in surrender. “I love your hair! But it’s definitely a mohawk.”

The rest of the drive there was filled with small snippets of banter, but you were mostly too preoccupied with your own thoughts to carry on a deeper conversation. As thankful as you are for him coming along and helping you, you can’t help but feel a twinge of pain in your chest knowing that none of it is real. You’ll go to this wedding, pretend that you both are madly in love with each other (which won’t be pretend at all for you), and then you’ll return home and never speak of it again. Logically, you know he doesn’t have feelings for you. But your stupid brain won’t stop making you imagine what it would be like if he loved you back; imagining what it would be like to be able to kiss him and touch him the way you always wished you could, or getting to go home to him everyday. It’s maddening.

“You okay, champ?” Josh asked, breaking you from your melodramatic musings. “You’re awfully quiet.”

You think about brushing it off, telling him something witty or sarcastic to brighten the mood that’s fallen over the car. But you can’t really come up with anything. Instead, you tell him the other half of your worries.

“I’m just dreading seeing all of them again.”

He turns away from the road momentarily to quirk an eyebrow at you.

“My family.” You clarify, fiddling with a loose string on your pants. “They’re all just so… judgmental. They always have been. Nothing I do is ever good enough for them.” You sucked in a sharp breath, fighting the tears that are threatening to make themselves known.

“Y/n…” Josh said, voice laced with sympathy that makes the tears burning behind your eyes get even closer to spilling over. “You’re better than any of them will ever be able to understand. They just can’t see you for the incredible woman that you are. And that’s on them, not you. You shouldn’t burden yourself with the expectations and judgements of others – they’re not worth it. All you can control is you and your own emotions, and you have to block out and ignore the ignorance of others.”

You sighed, turning your head to look back out the window. You know that if you look into those kind eyes of his, you’re going to start crying.

“Easy for you to say.” You huffed quietly. “You’ve got a successful job, you’ve got thousands of people who adore you, and you’re doing what you love.” You clenched your fists in your lap. “I’m nothing. I’ve got a shitty job and a shitty apartment and the only friends I have are you and the rest of the band.”

Josh sighed heavily but said nothing for a long moment. There’s a small, broken little part of you that feels almost vindicated that he’s at a loss for words for once. You glance at him, taking in the clench of his jaw and the tight grip he has on the steering wheel.

“I just wish you could see yourself the way others see you – the way I see you.” He finally says, voice somber. “You’re so much more than you think you are. And I’m sorry your family has made you think otherwise.”

He looks genuinely upset as he stares out at the road ahead and you’re struck with a sudden feeling of guilt for bringing the mood down so low. You shake your head and take a deep breath before forcing a smile to your face.

“I’m sorry. I’m being such an emo teen right now. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” You chuckle quietly. “I think it’s just the effect that my mother has on me. Makes me feel like things are worse than they actually are.”

Josh smiles back at you, seemingly fooled by your words. He reaches his hand over and squeezes your hand where it rests in your lap.

“Maybe you've been spending too much time with Jake. He's mopey as hell." He laughed loudly. "But that’s why you have me!” He declares, back to his usual sunshine self. “I’ll be there to make sure you have some actual fun and to hopefully get your mom off your back for a bit.” He gives you a goofy, crooked smile. “Plus, there’s gonna be booze, and that solves all of life’s problems.”

You roll your eyes.

“You’re only saying that because you’ve been drinking since you came out of the womb.”

“Yeah. Problem?” He gave you a cheeky smirk.

The two of you finally made it in around 7PM that night – a little later than you had originally planned; but you had driven by a farmer’s market and Josh had begged for the two of you to stop. He’d given you his best puppy dog eyes, the ones that he knows always get to you, and you’d agreed. He’d picked up some local honey and a few bags of loose tea leaves that he was excited to try once you got back home. It had been a welcome distraction from the dread that was slowly but surely settling itself in your belly the closer you got to your destination. You’d laughed the entire time and he’d managed to get you back in a good mood – an action that you’re pretty sure is Josh’s superpower.

But all that positivity was completely drained from you now as you stood at the doorstep to your parents house where the two of you would be staying for the weekend. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the inevitable.

“Hey.” Josh said quietly, lacing his fingers with yours. “You got this. I’m right here.”

You nodded at him, and his words coaxed a genuine smile out of you. You did feel a little emboldened knowing that he was here with you – even if it was all for a lie. You knocked on the door.

“Y/n!” Your mom yelled, opening the door wide. She pulled you in a tight hug. You let go of Josh’s hand and wrapped your arms around her.

“Hey, Mom.”

She pulled away and you saw your dad standing just behind her, his kind eyes crinkled in a large grin.

“Hey, baby girl.” He said, reaching to give you a hug as well. You welcomed it, breathing in his comforting scent. You hadn’t seen him in so long.

“Hey, Papa.” You mumbled into his shoulder.

You pulled away as Josh cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Mom, Dad,” You said, stepping back towards him. “This is my boyfriend, Josh.”

“Hello!” He said, extending his hand towards your mother to shake. “It’s wonderful to meet you.” He was giving them his very best Josh Kiszka sunshine smile and you could see your mom fighting between her judgment over his appearance and his obvious charm. She flicked her eyes up to his haircut momentarily before settling back onto his face. You sideyed him, a little amused that you had predicted how she would feel about his hair. She shook his hand and gave him a tight smile.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Josh. I thought our y/n was lying when she said she was bringing someone home.”

“Mom-” You started to say, but your dad cut off your snide remark by extending his own hand towards Josh. His smile was far more genuine than your mom’s had been.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Josh. I’m glad you could make it. You two are just in time. We just finished dinner.”

“Thanks, Papa. Lead the way.” You grabbed Josh’s hand and shouldered past your mother, following your dad into the house.

Your childhood home was just as you remembered it – despite it being since highschool that you had last seen it. The same pictures on the walls, the same furniture (save for the newer and much more tasteful sofa); even the dining room table was set out the same. True to your dad’s words, the table was set out with food – your dad had cooked your favorite meal for you. He’d remembered. A pang of overwhelming guilt shot through you as you thought about how little you spoke with him anymore. You’d let your relationship with your mother spoil one of the few good familial relationships you had. You promised that once this weekend was over, you’d make more of an effort to call your dad.

You and Josh took a seat at the table and you tucked into your favorite meal – it tasted even better than you remembered.

“So, Josh,” your mom said, “what is it that you do? Y/n hasn’t told us anything about you.” She gave you a sharp, pointed look before turning her attention back to Josh.

“I’m actually in a band with my two brothers and our best friend. We just got back from tour, actually. I was a little worried I wouldn’t be able to make it back in time for this weekend but we managed.” He smiled politely and took a bite of his food.

“A band?” Your mom asked, her own food completely abandoned. “One I would have heard of?” The comment wasn’t overtly rude, and had someone else asked that very same question it wouldn’t have seemed strange at all. But the tone she used made it clear that she wasn’t expecting much. It made your blood boil and you saw Josh pause, momentarily a little taken aback by the rudeness.

“It’s called Greta Van Fleet.” You supplied, your voice filled with pride. “Like Josh said, they just got back from a world tour.” You emphasized the word “world” as you pinned your mother with a similar look to the one she had given you earlier.

“Oh shit, hang on!” Your dad said suddenly. “I think I’ve heard of you guys. One of the younger guys at work is a fan, I think. He plays your songs sometimes. They sound awesome!”

Josh blushes and the love you have for your father increases by ten thousand.

“They’re very good.” You say, giving Josh a smile.

“Thank you, babe.” He says, and you blush at the way the nickname sounds so natural falling from his lips. You have to look away from him.

“From what I’ve heard of you all,” your dad continues, “I definitely approve. You must have grown up surrounded by great music because Greta Van Fleet sounds so much better than all this modern shit.” He says, gesturing his hands vaguely. “They’ve got no spirit.”

“We try to capture the old rock ‘n roll spirit the best we can.” Josh says, and you can see he’s growing more embarrassed by the second. No matter how famous and popular the band gets, Josh has never gotten used to the compliments. His cheeks are a bright red and he’s giving your dad a shy smile.

“Well,” your dad says pointedly, “you’ve got this old man's seal of approval.”

Your mom was being awfully quiet now and you glanced over at her. She at least has the decency to look embarrassed.

The rest of dinner goes by in comfortable conversation, with most of the topics revolving about what you’ve missed and around Josh and the band. You’re thankful that, for now, it seems you’ve escaped the spotlight for a while.

The four of you are cleaning up the table and putting the dishes away when your mom finally addresses you directly.

“Y/n,” She says, coming over to where you're washing and drying the plates. You glance to see Josh and your dad deep in their own conversation in the dining room.

“Yeah?” You say, not glancing up from the soapy water.

“I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t think you would make it.”

You’re taken aback for a moment, shocked by her sudden sincerity. You finally look at her.

“Thanks, Mom. It’s nice to be back home.” It’s not a total lie. “And I’m glad you and Dad are getting to meet Josh.” That part isn’t a lie either. Even if he isn’t really your boyfriend, it feels nice getting to pretend and show him off anyway.

“He seems very sweet.” She says, leaning back on the counter. You finish cleaning and drying the last dish and you wipe your hands on your pants. You look over at him, watching as he waves his hands about dramatically as he talks to your dad. You can’t help but smile.

“He is. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” The boldness of your statement isn’t lost on you, but it’s the truth.

“Well,” your mother says, crossing her arms. “I’m glad you have someone to be with for the time being.” She says it so nonchalantly that you almost miss the odd statement.

“What do you mean, “for the time being”?” You ask, crossing your own arms and turning to face her more directly.

“I just mean that from what I hear, it sounds like he’s not really around all that much. Not really the marrying type, you know?” The anger that flares up in you is immediate, and you can feel the back of your neck grow hot with rage.

“Hey, y/n!” Josh calls, snapping your attention away from your mother. “Me and your dad are gonna go get our bags from the car!”

“Thank you!” You call back before turning back to your mom in a rage. “What in the fuck is that supposed to mean? He can’t get married because he travels for work?”

“All I mean,” she says, turning away from you to walk into the living room, “is that if you’re going to have kids one day, a father who’s constantly absent isn’t really the best choice.”

You’re so angry you can hardly think straight. A retort lies on the tip of your tongue but you keep it there as Josh and your dad return, suitcases in hand. You glare at your mom but she’s not looking at you anymore.

“You two can go put those up in the guest bedroom.” She says, pointing to the stairs. “It used to be y/n’s room but we had it redone once she left for college.”

“You had it redone.” Your dad said quietly, mostly to himself. But you heard him and it soothed your anger a tiny fraction.

“Sounds good.” You walked over to him and took your suitcase. “Thank you, Papa. We’re gonna go get settled in and start getting ready for bed. I’m exhausted.”

He smiled at you and ruffled your hair like he used to do when you were little.

“No problem, squirt. You kids be good.”

You looked at your mom one more time, glaring at her before you turned to Josh.

“Ready?”

“Lead the way.”

The two of you ascended the stares as he followed you to your old bedroom. The same bed frame was there, as was your old record player and vinyl collection. The walls had been painted over and your posters were gone, but it was still most definitely your old room. It felt strange to be standing there again.

“That wasn’t so bad, now was it?” Josh asked, placing his suitcase down at the foot of your bed. You placed your own right next to it.

“It wasn’t until you and dad left.” You said angrily, plopping yourself down heavily onto the bed. “Mom, of course, made a shitty comment as soon as she could.”

“What did she say?”

You shook your head in frustration.

“She said I shouldn’t think too long term with you because if we have kids you wouldn’t be around because of your job.”

“She really said that?” Josh said, shock making his eyes go a little wide.

“Of course she did. All she cares about is grandchildren. It’s the only reason she still tries to talk to me.”

“Well,” Josh said, rounding the bed and sitting down beside you. “If we have kids one day, I promise I’d be around more.” He laughed and nudged your shoulder with his. “Try and ignore her. Also, your dad is awesome! Be glad you get to spend time with him. I know I’m enjoying spending time with him!”

You want to respond but you’re too stunned. If we have kids one day. The phrase sounded like you were actually together – like this was real between the two of you. You know he didn’t mean it that way. He’d just been trying to make you laugh. But now all you could think about was little tiny versions of you and Josh running around in your imaginary shared house with him. The chasm in your chest cracked open a little larger. You needed to get a grip.

“Well,” you said, sighing as you rose from the bed. “I can get some extra blankets and make a little cot on the floor for me to sleep on.” You unzipped your suitcase to pull your toiletries out.

“What?” Josh asked, whipping his head around to stare at you. “Why would you sleep on the floor?”

“Um.” You said rather eloquently. “I don’t mind. There’s only one bed.”

“Dude,” Josh said, rising from the bed as well. “We can share a bed. I’m not making you sleep on the floor.”

You stared at him, momentarily unsure how to respond.

“Unless you don’t want to.” He added hastily, eyes growing wide again.

“No!” You exclaimed, a little louder than you meant to. “I don’t. Mind, that is.” You said, cheeks flaming. You cursed yourself mentally for being so unbelievably not smooth.

“Alrighty then. You want the shower first?” He asked, pulling a pair of sweatpants from his suitcase.

“Sure. I’ll be quick. I’m sure you’re tired from the drive.”

“Take your time, sweetheart.”

You practically booked it to the bathroom and locked the door quickly behind you before sitting down heavily on the toilet seat. I can’t do this, you thought to yourself, wishing you could slap past you. Being this close to him, the nicknames, sharing a god damned bed, all of it. It’s too much. It feels far too real for your aching heart to be able to put up with for the next three days. Three days of complete and utter torture.

You sighed and rose from the toilet seat to turn on the water. You strip your clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor and step under the hot spray. It feels good, and you can feel some of the tension leak from your shoulders. You wash your hair and body, reveling in the steam. Your thoughts wander. You think about your mom and her constant need to belittle you. You think about your dad and how much you love and miss him – you think about how sweet he’s been to Josh all night.

Josh.

Inevitably, your thoughts circle back to him – just like they always do. He’d looked so gorgeous tonight, clad in a white shirt and khaki pants that made his ass look incredible. His recently retouched haircut, the sides freshly shaved and his curls extra fluffy and soft looking. His kind words to you in the car – words that you knew he meant with his whole heart. His sweet blush as you all had talked about the band over dinner. Everything about him drew you in. He’s like a sip of cold water on a hot day: refreshing and relaxing in a way that’s unlike anything else. You lean back against the cold tile of the wall in the shower and allow your thoughts to swirl around Josh.

Before you know it, your hand is slipping downwards, seemingly on its own accord. You grazed your fingertips over your clit, already swollen and sensitive at the thought of him. You circle it gently, adding more pressure as you go. You think about how good he looks up on stage, sweat dripping down his chest as he sings his heart out. You think about the way he stares at you when you talk, like you’re the only person in the world. You let your thoughts wander further as you slowly insert two fingers inside yourself, curling them in a “come hither” motion as you imagine that it’s Josh’s fingers entering you. You bite your lip to hold back a moan as you imagine it. You imagine palming his cock and you picture what he would look like with his head thrown back in pleasure. You imagine his face as you suck his cock. Your palm presses into your clit as you continue fucking yourself on your fingers, imagining the noises he would make as he came in you. Your own orgasm comes quickly, and you sigh out Josh’s name as you ride out the pleasure.

Once you come down from your high, you feel guilty. You’re about to share a bed with him and you just made yourself cum thinking about him. You finish washing, exiting the shower quickly and throwing on your pajamas. You wish you had thought to bring some sleeping clothes that were a little nicer than your sweat pants and ratty band tee. You sigh in defeat and return to the bedroom.

“Hey, Josh. I’m fini-” You cut yourself off at the sight of him already passed out. The light is still on and he’s on top of the covers in nothing but a pair of gray sweat pants. They sit low on his hips and hug the curve of his ass deliciously. You swallow and pad softly over to your suitcase to deposit your dirty clothes. You carefully walk over to his side of the bed and begin to slide the covers down from underneath him. He grumbles in his sleep but doesn’t wake. You know he must be exhausted. His plane back home had landed just the day before, and he’d been busy doing laundry and repacking in preparation for your three day trip as soon as he walked through the door. He’d probably not slept well last night since he usually doesn’t the night before leaving home, and then he’d woken up early and hadn’t allowed you to drive the entire way here – insisting that he didn’t mind and that he wasn’t that tired. You felt even more guilty.

You successfully pull the covers down low enough underneath him so you can tuck him in. He buries his face deeper into his pillow and sighs deeply. You smile softly and click off the lamp before sliding in bed next to him, careful to leave as much space as possible between the two of you. It takes a while, but eventually the sound of his steady breathing next you lulls you into your own sleep.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the next part or if you'd like to be added to my character tag lists!

-dee 🫶

#josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka x you #josh kiszka fanfiction #josh kiszka #greta van fleet fanfic #dee's writing

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re-whump · 6 months ago

Text

Glass Eden - Enclosure

prev congrats on not being eaten, but you're still trapped with the snake contains: non-human whumpee (borrower and lamia/naga, both tiny), captivity, pet trope, neglect, dehumanization, communication barrier, conditioned whumpee, concussion, (mild) emeto

Poe

It had to be a game of some sort, yes?

She had few ways to truly lose and I even fewer to win, but it must be a game.

The master of the house had thrown me in here for entertainment, after all. I had assumed it would be his entertainment, but apparently I wasn’t even worth that.

I couldn’t know if I’d been spared out of mercy or boredom or merely saved for later. I wasn’t even sure she was intelligent enough to have had a reason, that my survival wasn’t mere whim. The master of the house kept her like a pet, so it was possible her relatable visage was mere coincidence. Then again, it had seemed like she had been trying to speak with me, and the master of the house was hardly a compassionate figure. He threw me in here for sport, he may as well be keeping a person in a cage.

I think he knew that she wouldn’t finish me off. He left before she had released me. But I also recognized the silver box on the other side of the glass and its ominous black eye. He was still watching, or at least recording to watch later. He would be able to entertain himself with my inevitable death, over and over again. He would watch her feed on me and be able to share it with however many of his awful kin as he liked, just as soon as she changed her mind and attacked me again. Nightmare after never ending nightmare.

For now she seemed content to remain in the stone-looking cave on the far side of the terrarium. One bend of her pale, looping tail squeezed out the entrance, so I could even look over and be sure she stayed put. But my tail continued to quiver at her perfect silence. She could come for me at any moment and if I wasn’t looking at her, I wouldn’t know.

I needed to hide. I could feel the instinct pushing up beneath the rest of my thoughts to demand attention. Anger, self-pity, despair…none of them quite held up to the desperate urging to escape back into the shadows. I had been raised to believe—to know—that being seen by the monsters that owned the house was one of the worst things that could happen to me, and I couldn’t just push the feeling aside now that I’d been caught. The glass walls and open air were torturous.I would worry about survival later. I would worry about water and food and self-defense and how to get out of here later. First, I was going to carve a hiding space into the bark lining the cage, tucking in between the glass and some large stone. My crushed ribs burned as I pushed myself beneath the surface.

When that was done, I curled up to cry.

When that was done, I was still trapped.

Hecate

I had pleasant dreams about a patch of sun and another body lying curled up alongside my own.

I played them over in my head for awhile, lazily enjoying the empty schedule ahead of me. Hugh only ever expected me to perform when he had guests, not like the last hands. And he liked me to look like me, not dolled up and polished.

I scratched an itch along the thin scales on my hips and decided I could do with a wash anyway. That wasn’t polish, that was hygiene. I had a rash or something on my side there that never seemed to heal. I couldn’t do as good a job as the hands, but a long soak in even the tepid water on the cool side of the tank would feel refreshing enough.

I slid towards the sound of gently running water. There was a short waterfall on one end of the shallow pool that provided an endless supply of clean water. I’m not sure where exactly it came from, but there were a lot of things I didn’t understand. I only ever got to take short excursions beyond my glass walls and hardly anyone had ever thought I might like an explanation. It wasn’t like I could ask for clarifications. Mostly, I was thankful that this enclosure was at least full of interesting plants and clean bedding and even some clay I could sculpt with.

The water stole away that wonderful heat reserve I’d built up sleeping over the hot floor, but it was worth it. The sharp pinches that dotted the line between scale and skin fell away too, although the burning lower down on my belly lingered. I twisted around to check on what that might be, then tensed as I remembered how I’d hurt myself. Or, not myself, how I’d gotten…bit? Scratched? Hurt, somehow, by the…thing. The little prey-person-thing. The maybe-child.

Were they still here? Or had Hugh come back to collect them?

I whistled as I drew myself out of the water. Their scent was faint, but in a space that usually only housed myself, it was more than enough to trace them. They were wedged between a stone hide and the wall, lying still. As I got closer, they made a muffled squeak, not unlike a rat’s.

I slowed, continuing to sing. It was an old song, a gentle one, one I’ve known since I was just a hatchling. I used to know words to it, something about the sun, but it had been so long and become so meaningless that now all I knew was the tune. The words were in the language I had used with my clutchmates anyway, one without all those tricky human noises. I doubt the prey-person-thing would have understood it.

The substrate lurched as they clawed their way to the surface. I leaned back to keep the spray of bark out of my face. The glass pinged as they backed themself into the wall.

“Hey, hey, shhh,” I whispered.

“No, no, stop! Please! I’ve done nothing to deserve this!” they cried.

“Shh,” I repeated.

There wasn’t much else I could say. I couldn’t speak, not like they did. I had the wrong mouth for it. My tongue was meant for sneaking tastes of the air, not dancing between t and k and th and r and all the rest.

“You-you aren’t attacking me?”

I shook my head. I hoped they could see, even if I couldn’t. It seemed like it. They took a sharp breath like they were reacting to something.

“You understand me? You are intelligent, then? Can you talk?”

“I…mm.”

I pushed off the ground, head cocked. I could hardly answer three questions at once. I motioned with my hands for them to go slower, but it must have looked like something else from where they were standing. They were still sweating fear.

“J-just stay away from me! Please!” they whimpered.

I wanted to hold the poor thing to reassure them, but I wasn't dumb enough to think it would work. I just did my best to show him I meant no harm.

Poe

The python-woman stared for several excruciating seconds.

She sighed and looked as if she might cry, then lowered herself back down against the ground again. I wanted to believe it was some kind of submissive gesture, but I was loathe to get too optimistic with my life on the line.

I wished she would blink.

I didn’t move. I was too afraid it was some sort of trap about to spring. I watched a cat catch a mouse like that once, on a trip out into the garden. It had hunkered down and just stared for nearly a full minute. And that minute must have felt like an eternity for the mouse as it waited for that inevitable pounce. The cat had let it go again and again and again until the poor girl was too bloody and tired to try and run.

Eternity dragged on.

I waited and waited and waited until the creature finally grew bored of waiting. She backed away and silently drifted back to the other side of the cage.

I had to get out of here.

I crept around the perimeter looking for some way out. The only breaks in the glass were along the front, where the human had first thrown me in. The glass fit together so tightly, I couldn’t even wedge my fingers between the two panes, never mind try to pry them further apart. The mechanisms to lock the door in place were too far overhead for me to even examine. I turned to glare at the camera still gawking at me from the other side of the glass.

I could weave something out of the foliage, perhaps, or turn my little dagger into something more useful. Assuming I had the time.

I kept my distance from her as I explored and only partially for that most obvious reason of avoiding her. The far end of the tank where she seemed to prefer to rest was significantly hotter than the other, and the whole place was uncomfortably humid. I assume it all suited her but it was making me sweat on top of everything else.

I thought about taking off the wool I had wrapped around my shoulders, but it was also the closest thing to armor that I had. I was dressed to survive the cold floor of the underused study, not monster attacks. I retreated back towards where I had heard water on the cooler half of the enclosure. My aching ribs demanded a rest anyways.

The water was…not clean, to say the least. A small waterfall churned the pool, likely intended to keep the water from growing too stagnant, but it was clearly not up to the task. I knelt down and grimaced at the pool. It was clear enough, but a layer of dirt and dead bugs littered the bottom. I drank anyway; it wasn’t as if it was the most questionable thing I’d ever ingested. It was refreshing enough.

After a short break I thought about what to do for shelter while I was trapped in here. I probably couldn’t make anything truly safe, but I could at least gather up a decent bed to rest in. Something more comfortable for my sore ribs. As for food…I would have to hope some of these plants might be edible. I didn’t know them. I chose a spot to set up distance from the water, assuming she’d come back here to drink again before long.

A distant creaking caught my attention, and it was not the snake. The housemaster was back. I ducked as deep into the shadows as I could, as much habit as anything.

He moved slowly, spending a few minutes walking around and admiring various displays around the room. It was too far for me to make out the details, but I assume he was looking at other pets. I didn’t want to know anything more.

He turned to this prison before too long. The snake emerged from her cave to whistle and wave at him. He greeted her with a smile and oh-so-easily opened up the doors, nearly removing the entire front wall.

And his attention was fixed on the snake, not me.

I warily crept towards the open doors. I waited until he had his hands full with the snake-woman and I launched towards my freedom.

It was a hopeless endeavor. The movement caught his eye and he released the snake to take a clumsy swipe at me. Of course, a man twenty times my size didn’t need to be too precise to ruin me and these were hardly ideal conditions for me. His massive forearm slammed into me like a wall, knocking my breath away. I went skidding off the edge of the shelf before I could catch my balance.

“Shit!” the master hissed. “Didn’t realize you were still in there.”

I landed in a heap at his feet. At some point, either during the fall or the landing, my head cracked against something hard. My eyes watered as I tried to pull myself back together, back into a coherent train of thought, so I could get up and—

“No, no, you’re not getting out of here. I’m not letting some thieving vermin run wild in my home,” the master said.

A flat weight collapsed on top of me as I tried to crawl away. Shoe, I registered dimly. Very bad place to be. Very messy death. I wondered how much of it I would feel. He pressed down, just hard enough that I might burst if I tried to move, and dragged me towards the rest of him. He leaned down. My head swelled full of pain and panic.

I heard someone scream. I wondered if it might be me, even if screaming wasn’t a behavior borrowers were naturally inclined to perform. I closed my mouth with a groan and the sound kept coming. I pressed my ears back. It hurt. My head hurt so bad and the noise made it worse.

“Hey! Hey, my! My!” the scream shrieked.

Something struck the glass overhead and the weight crushing my chest pulled away. I threw myself forward to escape at the same moment the master bent down over me and all that motion all at once set my head spinning and stomach heaving.

“Mm? You do want it, then, girl? You were just saving it for later?”

I may have taken an entire two steps before collapsing back onto my knees to vomit up the meager contents of my stomach. I was still retching, unable to move, as the housemaster’s hand fell over me and pinched the back of my shirt. Vomit ran down my chin as I was lifted so quickly into the air that the world turned into a blur.

“No, don’t,” I croaked, several seconds after he tossed me back in the bark.

The snake woman reached for me. I kicked at her. She sputtered, but only because the housemaster pulled her away.

“Ah-ah, Hecate. I’ll let you have the little pest, but for now you’re coming out with me. Come along. It won’t go anywhere,” Hugh said.

The glass slid closed. The lock clicked. The towering shadow disappeared down the hallway. I stopped fighting to keep my eyes open.

I might as well finish dying before she came back to finish her game.

#no editing we die like men. i sorta proofread and that's gonna have to be be Enough for now #g/t #g/t whump #whump #whump writing #my writing #tiny whump #p: glass eden #oc: poe #oc: hecate #rtl #giant tiny

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