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desiredmalfoy · 4 years ago

Text

You’re Pretty! (D.M. x Reader)

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Word Count: 1.3K

Genre: Pure fluff that is meant to be light hearted. Enjoy!

Summary: Draco can’t stop calling his girlfriend pretty.

Warnings: Some very mild bad language. Very small, you’ll probably miss it. Medical inaccuracies, sorry I am not an expert.

Universe: No Voldy :)

{Draco Masterlist} { Main Masterlist }

(Credit to gif owner)

Things were going well for you today. You had woken up early, they served your favorite breakfast and you had even received amazing marks in your classes today. You had also spent some of your time with your boyfriend Draco before he had to go to quidditch practice. It was one of those ideal days you loved.

You were currently sitting on the couch of the common room catching up on a book series you have been meaning to read. You grabbed a piece of chocolate and popped it in your mouth. Your peace and quiet were soon interrupted by an out of breath Theo. He ran into the common room still dressed in his quidditch uniform and broom in hand. If he didn’t look so serious, you would laugh at his current state. You lifted your eyes slightly from your book, enough to notice him making his way to you.

It seems things were going too well for you today.

“(Y/N)…yo-you need to go to the i-infirmary.” He attempted to catch his breath. “Draco’s in there.”

“What happened to Draco?” You lifted yourself off the couch quickly and stood up. The book left idly now on the floor.

“There was an accident on the quidditch field.” You were now following out of the common room and up the stairs out of the dungeon.

You tried your best to keep up with him as he was basically running down the halls. “Explain Theo!”

“So Crabbe was eating this snack right? It was really greas-”

“Nott, I don’t give a damn what Crabbe was eating.”

“There is a point to this! Well, he went straight to grab his bat because you know he plays beater position. Right, so the grease caused it to slip and it hit Draco in the head!”

“You’re telling me he got hit in the head?!” The two of you had finally made it to the infirmary and were now standing outside of it.

“Yes! You should have seen it (y/n)! It was such a bloody freak accident!”

You ignored that last part and instead pushed the doors open. There were only a handful of students in there so finding your boyfriend wouldn’t be hard. You spotted a familiar blond head towards the back of the infirmary. You rushed to his side where Madam Pomfrey was tending to his injury.

“Ah! Miss (y/l/n)! I suppose you’re here to see Mister Malfoy?” You had stopped in your track once she had turned her attention to you. You carefully made your way to the chair next to his bed.

You grabbed his hand and took it in yours, giving it a light squeeze. “Will he be alright?”

“Yes, dear. Received a big bruise to the head but I’ve already healed that. He has a concussion, poor thing was out of it before you arrived. But he’ll be okay.” She gave you a reassuring smile in an attempt to calm your nerves and the turmoil that was occurring in your head.

You sat next to Draco in silence waiting for him to wake up once again. Minutes turned into an hour quickly and you were starting to doze off yourself when you heard grunting coming from beside you.

“Draco, are you alright? Do you need anything? I can get Madam Pomfrey if you would like?” You were quickly by his side as he started to gain consciousness.

“What’s going on? Who are you? And why does my head hurt so much?” He winced as his hand touched the top of his head where the injury occurred. You quickly grabbed his hand and kept it away.

“Who do you think I am?” You asked him curious as to what he would respond.

“A really pretty stranger.” His voice came out sounding a bit groggy since he had just woken up.

“I’m your girlfriend Draco.” You explained giggling at the situation beforehand. “And you had an accident.”

“Girlfriend? Wow, you’re so pretty!” There was a hint of awe in his voice as he stared up at you. “I’m really lucky.”

“Let me go get Madam Pomfrey so she can make sure you’re okay.” You left to find her and come see him. She did another evaluation of him and came to the conclusion that he was fine. The hit to the head must have caused him to be confused but he was not suffering from amnesia. You sighed a breath of relief. She instead gave him a potion to help with the pain.

“So you’re really my girlfriend?” Draco questioned you once again as soon as Madam Pomfrey left his side once again. You took a seat in the corner of his bed and held his hand. “How long have we been dating?”

“Since fifth year when you finally got the courage to ask me out.” You joked with him. “Two years now.”

“Can’t blame me. You’re so pretty, anyone would be nervous to ask you.” A blush spread across your face at this.

“I can’t believe I got so lucky. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” His voice had started to become softer as he started to feel sleepy. The potion given to him for pain finally started to have an effect on him. “Will you be here when I wake up?”

“I’ll be here again in the morning. They won’t let me stay the night. I’ll bring you breakfast okay?”

“Okay, I love you (y/n).”

“I love you too Dray.”

——

You had been right, the night before shortly after you were sent back to your dorm with the promise you could see your boyfriend in the morning. You unwillingly left his side and headed back to your dorm.

It was now breakfast time and you had only come to get a plate for you and Draco. You rushed to your usual stop where all your friends sat. You quickly greeted them and started to look for foods you knew Draco liked.

“How’s Draco doing?” Pansy asked you.

“Last night I saw that I saw him, he was out of it. But he’s doing better. I’m going to go see him now and see how he's doing.”

“Let us know how he’s doing okay?” Blaise spoke up and gave you one of his rare smiles. No matter the tough exterior, you knew he was worried about his best friend.

“I will don’t worry.” You grabbed the plates and made your way out of the great hall. Moving against the crowd of students still coming for breakfast.

You quickly arrived and opened the door that led to your boyfriend. You could see from here that he was already up and much better. He saw you coming his way and his eyes lit up as soon as they saw you.

“Hey babe, you’re finally here to see me.” He said as you put the two plates of food on his bedside table. He pulled you into his side and gave you a kiss.

“You don’t remember I was here yesterday.” You pulled away laughing a bit in amusement.

“Not at all. Yesterday was blurry. All I remember was being on the quidditch pitch and next thing I’m here.”

“Oh? So you don’t remember calling me the prettiest girl ever? Or forgetting I was your girlfriend?” You kissed the side of his temple gently.

“Can you blame me? Any bloke who would have just woken up not remembering anything would think the same about you. Because you are darling.” It was his turn to place a kiss on your blushing cheeks.

“Well, you were definitely shocked I would date you.” You laughed recalling the events of the previous night.

He laughed along with you as you told him what had happened the night before. “It’s a good thing I only said true things last night.”

“Now let’s eat so I can leave this place. I have to go see Crabbe.”

“Here you go”, you placed the plate of all his favorites in front of him. Having just a pinch of pity on Crabbe but not really seeing as your boyfriend was injured because of him.

“Hey, Draco?”

“Yes, love?”

“You promised me last night we could do whatever I wanted this weekend?��

“I don’t remember.”

“I do and you promised.”

“Only because I love you I’ll take your word for it.”

He in fact did not say that last night but he didn’t have to know that.

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shorkbrian · 4 years ago

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Thirsty for Tendou, also vibrators

(Warnings - NSFW, no penetrative sex, just a lot of overstim with a wand. Non con, slight mention of urine. Bad writing as always lol ignore all of that ksjdhd)

“Oh god, oh please, no no no-“

“Ah ah ah-“ Tendou tutted “You were bad. This is what happens to bad girls.”

You were frogtied on your back, knees pressed firmly to the tabletop you rested upon. Cuffs and a strong chain kept your arms stretched above your head, immovable. You were completely at Tendou’s mercy.

Tendou, who was holding a hitachi in his hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. Please, I’ll do anything, please! Not this-not this.” You begged, body trembling.

You’d been through this once already, tied up since yesterday. The redhead had untied you a couple times to take you to the bathroom and make you drink water, but he had been sadistic today. The back of your thighs were itchy, burning with discomfort from being forced to lie still in a puddle of your own piss. It was humiliating.

Still, you could handle it.

What you could not handle, was what was coming next.

“I said I’m sorry, please! Oh god, oh God no-god please!”

“Yes?” Tendou asked teasingly, leaning over you. He waved the hitachi teasingly in front of you, eyes focusing on the mess between your legs. “Oh, poor baby pissed herself!”

You sobbed.

“Please, I can’t take any more, I learned my lesson! I promise, please don’t use that, you don’t need to.“ You were pleading, begging with the man, desperate to not go through the same overwhelming experience as yesterday.

He had tied you up, nestled the hitachi between your legs, and edged you over and over. At the end you had been promising anything, if only he would let you cum.

Tendou straightened, a smile flashing across his face. “Ah! That’s good! But-“ he leaned close again, nibbling at your ear “-daddy still wants to play.”

The hitachi buzzed to life in his hand, and you shivered.

“I can’t do that again, daddy-oh god, please-please don’t!”

When the hitachi was pressed to your cunt, spreading your lips, you screamed.

Just as soon as it had touched your pussy, it disappeared, instead being moved to press down against your mons, hard. The vibrations traveled deep, a pleasant, manageable pressure.

“You were so naughty, I can’t just let you off easy. If I did, you might try to bite my dick off again.” When he smiled at you, lips stretched wide, his eyes were cold as steel, threatening.

Tendou had been furious when you had tried to bite his length the other day. The man should’ve known better than to force himself on you.

The hitachi was returned to your pussy, Tendou rubbing it firmly against your opening, making you squirm.

“I can’t do this, it’s too much, it’s too much, it’s too much-“ You were a broken record, chanting out the words. You threw your head back, closing your eyes. The sensation was too much, too intense, so pleasurable that it bordered on the edge of pain, dancing and skipping back and forth over that line.

“Oh, should Daddy stop?”

“Yes, yes oh god, please stop. No more, I’ll be good.”

You were desperate. Tendou pretended to contemplate your words for a moment, tapping his chin with one hand. Then he tapped your nose, grinning.

“I think Daddy’s gonna keep going. You sound like a little puppy when you get overwhelmed and it’s so cute.”

Your stomach dropped off a cliff, and you teared up immediately. No matter how much you begged, Tendou wasn’t going to let up.

Constantly trying to writhe and scoot away from the ever-present buzz of the wand was exhausting, and soon you could do nothing but lay there. Tears began flowing down your face when Tendou upped the vibration, a strangled yelp breaking free from your throat.

Tendou brightened.

“See?! Like that! Good puppy.”

He ran the bulbous head of the wand over your clit, alternating between gentle and hard presses. It was overwhelming, and soon you were screaming, pulling at your ties.

“Daddy, o-oh! No no no, stop stop stop, I can’t-I can’t! Ah!”

An orgasm washed through you, buzzing through your veins in time with the vibrator. Tendou kept gliding it around your cunt, pressing it hard to your entrance, tapping the head at your clit, massaging your labia with the wand. You couldn’t take it.

“Ah, mmm, no more, please no more.” You whined, exhausted, body tingly and overstimulated. It felt like your nerves were fried, everywhere except for your soft cunt.

Tendou laughed as you begged, teasing you by swiping some of your slick onto his fingers in between passes of the wand.

“Little puppy can’t stop making messes, can she? First you piss all over yourself, and now this?”

With you eyes squeezed tightly shut, you didn’t see him bring his wet fingers to his mouth. Unfortunately, you heard the sucking sounds as he licked them clean.

“Mm, tasty! Maybe I’ll take a break in an hour or so, have a little snack, hm?”

You sobbed.

The wand kicked up a notch, and Tendou was working his wrist speedily, practically fucking you with the wand, pushing the head into your hole, it’s way eased by the copious amounts of your creamy slick.

He’d pop it out, rub it furiously at your clit, then hold it there, pinching your hood back so you were forced to feel the full brunt of the strong vibrations.

You were wailing, shuddering, breaths shaky and broken. It was too strong, too fast, too much! You screamed as much at the man torturing you. He just cocked his head, thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Poor puppy can’t take it, can she? Naughty little thing. You keep gushing and creaming around nothing though, maybe I should stick my cock in you while I help your little clitty feel good?”

A hand rubbed at your thigh, and you almost screamed, hypersensitive. “I’ve never played with toys while inside before.” Tendou continued. “Bet it feels like a little slice of heaven.”

He was holding the wand firmly in place now, letting you move your hips around it. It was obvious that you were working to retreat from the stimulation, but your writhing and wriggling only served to grind you further onto the wet, vibrating wand.

You felt floaty, your limbs felt funny and weightless, like as if you had jumped on a trampoline and were suspended in the air, butterflies in your stomach as you waited to fall down to earth.

Another orgasm tore through you, and it was painful, pussy clenching around nothing. You couldn’t think past the constant buzzing at your cunt.

You let out a screech as Tendou still refused to pull the hitachi away. Embarrassingly enough, you realized he was right; you sounded like a squeaking little puppy with your “Ah! Ah! Ah! Mmmmh! Oh, unh, unh, mmfh!”

But the sounds were spilling out, you couldn’t control them. You couldn’t control yourself.

At some point, you lost track of how many times you came from Tendou’s ministrations.

All you knew, was that when he finished, you couldn’t feel your limbs, body fuzzy and tingly, sensitive and overstimulated to the point where even the air touching you was too much.

Tendou switched off the vibe, coming to stand near your head so he could lean down and give you a quick kiss.

“I love you puppy.” His voice was soft, endearing. You were too out of it to even notice.

Fingers ran through your hair, untwisting the tangled bits from where you had thrown your head about. And then the fingers were trailing down you body, back to your cunt. They left burning fire in their wake, painful prickles that felt like the heat of a sunburn.

The fingers stopped right at your pubic bone.

“Ah, would you look at the time-“ Tendou stretched out his wrist, pretended to check the time despite not having a watch on either wrist. “-time for snackies!”

A sly, low giggle escaped as he bent down, ready to suck at your puffy, abused pussy until he drowned in it.

You think you’re gonna pass out.

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marvelouspeterparker · 4 years ago

Note

you're really being a brat and tom punishes you for it

i just went straight to the punishment cause why not, 18+ of course

this is filthy :D

i also combined this with @ethereal-beauty-p‘s request for dom!tom with bondage + edging and overstimulation

this was also inspired by this audio my god i had this on repeat yesterday

also dedicated to @hollandbaby cause she was thirsting over tommy today

––

your ass felt hot and sensitive as tom traced his fingertips over the tender skin teasingly. he had spanked you so many times, you lost count. you were also extremely slick between your thighs, having been edged ten times since tom got home. to be fair, you did break the rules and cum without permission...while you were on the phone with him...when he was on his way home. so you knew what you were getting into. or at least you thought you did.

how were you supposed to know he’d had a long day at work today of all days?

“you know,” tom interrupted your thoughts, grabbing your flesh roughly, making you whimper and squirm in his lap. “i was hoping to come home and spend the night with my girl and relax.” you took a deep breath when he paused dramatically. hands still playing with your ass. “but instead––i got stuck having to put a brat in her place.”

you began to apologize quietly but tom quickly silenced you, “i really don’t wanna hear it.” his tone was blunt and somehow sharp at the same time. you felt yourself dampen between your legs. of course there was no way to hide it––as soon as he got home, tom made you strip immediately and threw you over his lap on the couch. he on the other hand, was fully dressed.

you felt exposed, a little embarrassed, and extremely filthy, but you and tom both knew that you secretly loved it, feeling like tom was the only one who could control you.

he swiped his fingers through your folds, playing with your wetness while his other hand smacked your ass simultaneously, a small squeal escaping you, your body unable to decipher which feeling it enjoyed more.

“christ, you’re even wetter than before. such a pathetic little slut aren’t you?” he slid his finger inside your tight opening. “enjoying the pain,” he tutted disapprovingly, “so naughty.” you could hear how wet you were as tom pumped his finger in and out of you. when your hips started moving on their own accord, tom brought a hand to your lower back, pressing you down and you couldn’t help but moan as he slid another finger inside, pressing against your spot.

you reached over for a pillow that was nearby on the couch and buried your face in it as tom’s thumb reached down to rub at your clit. you could feel yourself getting closer but before you could even think about cumming, tom took his hands away from you, earning a whine from you.

he pulled you upright and nipped your jaw playfully, enjoying the dazed look in your eyes. “go to the room and get the cuffs.” he saw you about to complain and gave you a stern glare, pinching your nipples, making you hiss. “think very carefully about your next words.”

you bit your lip reluctantly, and looked down at your lap before getting up, “yes sir.”

you practically stumbled your way to the bedroom, your limbs felt like jelly and your mind felt fuzzy, but in a good way. when you made your way back with the cuffs, you stopped dead in your tracks at the sight in front of you. tom sitting with his legs spread, completely naked, his head resting on the back of the couch, eyes closed, sighs falling past his lips as he fisted his cock. you could see his his tip shining with pre-cum as he swiped his thumb around it, a choked breath coming from him as he did so.

“you ever plan on coming back?” he asked, knowing you were there.

you jumped slightly before wobbling your way over. he stopped stroking himself and patted his thighs, licking his lips as he looked up at you. “get on.”

you swallowed thickly and climbed on top of him and he took the cuffs from you. he wrapped an arm around you and reached for your wrists, lips grazing your collarbone as he locked them in place. “there we go.” you raised yourself up on your knees and he grabbed his cock again, “gonna slide in, just––” he sat you down on his cock and you both moaned together, “like that, fuck––”

when you started to bounce too quickly for tom’s liking, he held you down by your hips, making you whine. “now what do you think you’re doing?” he teased, moving your hips to help you grind on him, “greedy little thing, you’re gonna go nice and slow for me, that’s it.”

you swallowed your complaints and moved along with him. he was enjoying himself watching you struggle to take what he was giving you. he had more self control right now, of course that’s because he hadn’t just been edged ten times in a row, but anyway.

he waited until you physically couldn’t stop the whines from spilling past your lips, until your brows were furrowed in frustration, your lip caught between your teeth. only then, did he give you what you wanted. and boy, were you in for it now.

he grabbed your hips and moved you up and down his cock, resuming the pace you’d started out with. “there you go, you can bounce on my cock princess, it’s all yours. use it.”

you moaned softly in relief but it soon escalated in volume when he pressed his thumb against your bundle of nerves. “oh what, is that too much, baby?”

“fuck––”

“yeah? come on, pretty girl.”

with how much teasing you’d endured, it didn’t take you long to get close. “fuck please, i wanna cum so bad sir.”

he gave you a look of false sympathy, “yeah? you wanna cum so bad?” you nodded desperately and he smirked, “go on then, cum.”

you moaned loudly, your body releasing immediately after receiving approval. you kept bouncing through your high, your pace faltering as you breathed loudly through your mouth.

“ah ah,” tom tutted, his hands gripping your sides as he pushed you up and down. “you don’t get to stop, no you don’t.” you cursed silently, your pussy still sensitive.

“fuck you’re absolutely drenching my cock, aren’t you?”

your body was still aching for more, still eager to cum. it felt like you just kept getting wetter. “please, please sir i need to cum.” your hips moving sloppily on top of him as your pussy swallowed his cock.

“yeah you wanna cum?” he smirked, his eyes staring dead at you, “i’m sure you do.” he paused to watch you bounce on him, “go on, cum like a good slut. look at me while you cum.”

you gasped, your body practically convulsing as you reached your high yet again so soon after the last. your eyes were stuck on tom’s but as soon as you tipped over the edge, they rolled back as you tipped your head back, biting your lip.

“fuck i love watching you cum, princess.” he praised, his eyes sweeping over your body.

your hips started slowing down subconsciously, already getting tired, but tom was not having it.

“no no, you don’t get to slow down. you’re gonna stay there and take my cock.” you whined loudly and he smirked. “this time i’m gonna cum in that dripping pussy and you’re gonna cum with me like you’re supposed to.”

you couldn’t help the moan that escaped you at the thought of him releasing his load inside of you.

he grinned up at you, bring a hand up to your throat, “such a little cumslut.” he picked up the pace, roughly fucking you as you bounced back on him, practically throwing your body back. “god, i’m gonna cum in that tight little pussy, yes baby, yes, that’s it.”

he came with a loud groan, hips never faltering as he dug his fingers into your hips and your throat, making you cum on his throbbing member, your breath stuttering as he gripped you harder.

he didn’t give you time to breathe, slipping one hand down to rub at your clit as he continued his movements. your hands pulled at the restraints and you yelped, too sensitive to even think properly.

“too––tom it’s too––fuck––” you struggled to finish your sentence, giving up entirely.

“yeah? it’s too much?” he kept pounding into you, hips bucking wildly as he fucked you even faster, “that’s too bad princess,” he whispered condescendingly. “cause you know what?” he growled, “i don’t care.”

you came with a shout, your eyes blacking out as you felt the bliss explode through your body. without skipping a beat, tom grunted and kept up the pace, relishing in the whines you let out involuntarily.

your eyes widened before they squeezed shut, overwhelmed by the pleasure, “no, no, tom it––i can’t––” you panted on top of him, your tits bouncing, your ass slapping against his hips as he used you.

“no? well if you really felt that way you’d use your safe-word, wouldn’t you?”

you swallowed thickly, knowing he was right. it felt so good, but it was too good. but you also didn’t want it to stop.

his hips never faltered, as he thrusted his cock into you, his member pulsing inside you as you clenched around him cumming for yet another time tonight. you felt like your whole body was buzzing, coming back to life. tom didn’t stop until you came again on top of cock, tears pooling in your eyes as your legs trembled, your limbs not strong enough to hold you up anymore.

you whimpered loudly as tom’s movements finally stopped, his hands running up and down your body softly.

“come here, princess.” he brought his hands to your waist and pulled you down to rest your weight on him, your head in the crook of his shoulder as you panted, letting out a few whines and sighs as your body twitched from the aftershocks.

“did so good for me babygirl. see, you can be a good girl when you want to.” his hands caressed your arms before trailing their way down to unlock the handcuffs. he took them off and threw them aside before bringing his hands to your back, tracing soothing lines along your spine.

when you didn’t respond, he kissed your shoulder, noticing you were already drifting off to sleep and wrapped his arms around you. “such a good girl.”

#tom holland #tom holland blurb #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #dom!tom holland #dom!tom holland blurb #dom!tom holland smut #dom!tom holland x reader

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nothing-but-dreamy · 3 years ago

Text

ON THE EDGE ~ Pt. 7

Characters: Gavin Reed x fem!Reader; Connor; Hank Anderson;

Warnings: cursing

Words: 2.204

Sweat was running down Gavin's muscled body. He was groaning and moaning breathlessly while he enjoyed the sweet pain shooting through his lower abdomen. He was shuddering and shaking. The rhythmically moves were what he needed now. The physical interactions were what he craved for.

It was three in the morning as Gavin trained on his boxing bag until he almost collapsed. Gasping for air, he hugged the bag and slumped down on his knees. He closed his eyes violently as burning sweat was running into them. The past evening was running endlessly through his mind like a broken record or … a rollercoaster. Once again, he was tormenting himself.

…the kiss … I love you … he's nice… why him … I wish you two just all the best … Gavin, wait! …

"Fuck, damn it…", Gavin whispered. He was exhausted and not just because of the training and the lack of sleep. But rather emotionally. Like he had feared, the situation was a mess. It was a disaster. He had waited too long with admitting his feelings and now, he had lost yn to an android. Nothing was as worst as the thought that he had lost the fight about her because of Connor.

Gavin knew he would go crazy if any of this would last longer. Slowly, he opened his eyes, determined that he had to change something. He couldn't force yn to love him back. Mostly not if she had chosen someone else instead of him. But he could force himself to store away the feelings he had for her. It would need some time and it wouldn't be easy but Gavin had to do something or otherwise it would end him.

Yn wasn't able to find sleep during the last night. Everything that had happened was a bit too much and a bit too confusing. Connor. Gavin. Two guys kissing her at the same evening. Was that a prank and she just couldn’t understand the payoff of the joke? And not just that Gavin had kissed her, he also had confessed his feelings for her? Feelings she never expected him to have for her. Of course, they were working together and they had grown together as very good friends but … Gavin Reed was loving her? Her idiotic douchebag partner was loving her and she had no idea?

Then, there was what had happened during the kiss with Connor. Sure, she liked the android. He was nice, friendly, handsome but after all, he was an android. Since they got invented, she was a supporter of them. She couldn’t see them as ‘things’ like others did. She would never get one on her own but she also couldn’t imagine being with one of them. She knew herself good enough to know that she would miss something. And as Connor had kissed her, surprisingly skilled how she had to admit, something got triggered inside her. Connor kissed her but it wasn't the lips she wanted to feel on hers, she realized. As he brought her closer, it wasn't the hands she wanted to feel on her body. As yn stopped the kiss, it wasn’t the pair of eyes she wished to look into…

It was three in the morning and yn accepted the fact that sleep was something she wouldn’t find, therefore, she just stood up, took a shower and filled herself up with as much coffee as she could to get through the next few hours. She was thankful as it was time to go to work.

As she entered the DPD, she was glad to see Connor already sitting at his desk AND she was happy to see that Gavin hadn’t arrived yet. Therefore, she could talk with Connor first before she could speak with Gavin.

Connor shot up from his desk as he noticed yn coming over to him, “Good morning.”, he said with a broad smile but he also noticed that she looked tired, “Is everything okay?”, he asked concerned.

“No, if I should be honest-”

“Is it because of the kiss? Like I said, I’m sorry. It was a thoughtless reaction-”

“I know and I’m not- look, Gavin had seen us yesterday. He told me that as we met in the bar… Gavin, he wasn’t really … pleased about it-”

“Not please? What does that mean?”, Connor asked confused.

Yn felt how her brain was just goo and she had no idea how she should go through this day with all this useless, emotional crap during the preparation time for this important case. But she had to deal with it. She pinched the bridge of her nose before she looked up at Connor, “You know how he is. I will talk with him. Trying to remember him to focus on the case first.”, she said calmly. She already felt bad for rejecting Connor how she had done it the previous night. Now, the android didn’t also need to get treated badly by Gavin who felt rejected as well. She feared he would try to take out his anger on the android. Yn wanted to talk with Gavin, to tell him the truth, telling him what she had found out about her feelings but this morning wasn’t the right time. She hoped he would understand that.

Never in her whole life, Yn was so wrong.

As she saw Gavin entering the DPD, she hurried over to intercept him, brave enough to speak with him, “Gavin, hey, about yesterday-”, she tried but his dead glance stopped her.

“Not now, yn. We have work to do.”, Gavin said ice cold. He saw her shocked expression about his distanced behavior. It hurted him to see her like this because of his reaction but if he wanted to get over her, he had to be strong. The last thing he needed was to hear anything about her developing relationship with Connor.

He was about to leave but yn grabbed his arm, “No, please. Don’t run away. We really have to talk, okay?”

Gavin looked into her eyes and he was about to give in but his will was stronger, “No. I don’t wanna talk. Just let us focus on the case.”, he pulled his arm out of her grip and went to his desk.

Yn stared after him speechless. No matter how bad their fights had been before, he never had been this ice cold towards her. Even as they got partnered up he had been an asshole to her at first but never like this. A thick lump was building in her throat and suddenly, yn feared to not just have lost her partner rather even her friend.

As Captain Fowler got the newest results of the case of Yn and the team, he called Captain Allen to secure him and his SWAT unit as support. Captain Allen joined the team as well, and all together they planned the whole mission. Allen didn’t notice anything but Hank saw that there was something going on in the team. Yn and Gavin barely spoke to each other. Whenever she tried to get closer to Gavin he stepped back a bit and focused on some file. Avoiding her at all costs. With Connor was it the same. The android watched Gavin and yn with an unreadable expression. Hank was sure that there was something going on he didn’t know and the way all three acted, he was sure, it was not case related.

To escape the tense air, yn went to Fowler, she got coffee or she talked with Captain Allen about a detail of the case. The whole thing wasn’t that complicated but she was glad to have Allen on their side. Captain Allen and his team would be the backup around the warehouse while Gavin, Hank and Connor would make the raid. As yn and Allen discussed a few more details, a sudden turmoil coming from her desk caught the attention of everyone.

Connor’s unusual behaviour caused yn to run to the android and Gavin as she saw how Connor tried to attack her partner. With a swift move, she brought herself between Connor and Gavin, stopping the android with her hands on his chest. From behind her back, Gavin was yelling at Connor, “You stupid tin can!”

“Yeah? I will show you how stupid I am!”, Connor yelled back and yn had difficulties holding Connor at bay.

Slowly, she pushed Connor back before she looked alternate from Connor at Gavin and vice versa, not understand what had happened, “Both of you calm the fuck down! What is going on here?”, she asked serious. Sure, she knew what the topic could be but how that could escalate this quickly was a miracle.

Connor, still with a raging glance in his eyes, answered the question first, “The whole day, he makes some remarks.”

Gavin stepped forward, “Yes, because you stupid plastic toy are getting on my nerves!”, he yelled back.

“Gavin! Calm down!”, yn tried to sooth her partner but Gavin was in his raging mode, staring at the android with dark eyes.

“What is your problem, huh? Can't you accept that you will never have a chance with her?”, Connor asked teasingly. Yn was shocked that Connor was able to be nasty like this. He was provoking Gavin even more but on the other hand she had no idea what Gavin had done the whole time. A movement on her side caught her attention.

“You mother fucking prick!”, Gavin cursed, ready to jump at Connor.

Yn held Gavin back, her hands were barely able to push the man back who was so angry, “Gavin, no!”, she said seriously. As she noticed that Connor wanted to react as well, she looked at him warningly, “Connor, no!”

“What the hell is going on here?”, Fowler yelled from the opened door of his office. Connor and Gavin were still staring at each other, ready to explode any second.

“Nothing, Captain. Just their typical bickering. I will take care of it.”, yn tried to reassure her boss.

Angry about both of them, she pushed Gavin and Connor out of the open office, “Get into the kitchen! Both! Now!”, she demanded angrily. Her nerves were raw. The day was almost over. The operation had been planned completely. Everyone knew what they had to do and yet, these two couldn’t be as calm as she had hoped for.

Hank followed them and stayed near the entrance as help if needed and to prevent someone from walking in.

“What the hell is going on?”, yn asked angrily and annoyed. Gavin had walked to one wall, leaning against it with crossed arms and looked at a point on the ground while Connor just stood there in the middle of the kitchen.

“He was getting on my nerves all day.”, the android said as a defence.

“Yes, because you’re a stupid plastic-”, Gavin called out.

But yn stopped him as she stepped forward, “You! Don't act innocent! We have to work together! All of us! This case is important! So, we have to sort things out, now!”, she said serious.

Gavin stepped forward. Even Hank was alarmed but Gavin just stared down at yn angrily, “No! You have to sort out things with him. I didn't start the fight. He attacked me!”

Now, Connor stepped forward as well, anger rising in his system, “Because you couldn't stop bothering me the whole day!”, and because Connor wasn’t used to such emotions, he started to attack Gavin once again.

Yn stopped the android and even Hank stepped forward to hold his partner back.

Gavin saw yn touching Connor and something broke inside of him. The whole day he tried his best to keep his temper down. He had picked on Connor because otherwise, he would have let out his anger on yn and that was the last thing he wanted. But now, to see them together, in such an intimate way, was too much and Gavin did the only thing he could do to prevent something worse, “I don't need this. I'm outta here!”, he called out and passed the three to rush out of the DPD.

“Gavin, wait!,” yn called out but once again, he was running away from her. The same move he had done the last few days over and over again, “Fuck damnit!”, she cursed, kicking against a bin and walked up and down.

Hank noticed quickly what was going on. To him, everything made sense. Now, yn just needed a push into the right direction, “Kiddo, follow Gavin. He needs you now.”

Yn looked up into the friendly expression of Hank before she nodded. She looked apologetically at Connor before she left the DPD as well to follow her stubborn and idiotic partner.

Confused, Connor watched after yn and looked at Hank, “Why have you sent her after him? Reed acted like an idiot.”

“Look, these two are... They have to find out what they are by themselves. But, obviously, you were the trigger.”

“What do you mean?”

“I guess they're more than just partners. They have to talk about what they are. I will explain it to you.”, Hank said as he saw Connor's confused expression.

#connor rk800 #detroit become human gavin #dbh gavin reed #dbh gavin #gavin reed #gavin x reader #gavin reed x reader #detroit become human #fandom love #fandom #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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desertofsnowflakes · 3 years ago

Text

Incorrect Order Chapter 4 (Nessian AU)

A/N: I know I haven't been able to update as fast as you'd want me to but I'll try to fix that. Your comments and feedbacks are very much appreciated. Do inform me if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist! If you happen to find my storyline similar to another fic or one of yours, I'm extremely sorry, I might've just not known. All characters belong to the author Sarah J. Mass. Enjoy!

Summary: Don't first impressions always affect the way you see someone? Well, what more with the Nesta Archeron? Nesta meets Cassian at few unexpected places and to say it didn't go well was a major understatement. Certain circumstances make them become enemies to tolerable company to friends to lovers.

Trigger Warnings: None really

1652words | Incorrect Order Masterlist | Read on AO3

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The best way to keep whatever problems one has out of their mind was to do something they liked. That was the only way Cassian kept from spiraling. Since sending the woman to her own house, Cassian had more than a few moments when he wanted to repeatedly slam his head against a wall. That’s why he spent most of his time sparring with Azriel. He won’t admit he was simping for that woman in his free time too. Or maybe that was always.

Now, sprawled on a couch in front of the TV, with nothing to do but stare at a blank screen, Cassian led his thoughts to the box he kept all unwanted thoughts locked in. He thought about Tomas, her ex-boyfriend. Funny, he thought. I know her ex's name but not hers.

It took him a little too long the other day to realise they didn't exchange names. Again. He once thought that maybe she was purposely not giving him her name. That maybe, for her, he was just a random stranger who happened to save her life. He snorted. Surely anyone would know the name of the person they saved or was saved by— stranger or not. He supposed he'll have to make do with pronouns for now.

After she left his home, it took every scrap of self-restraint not to beat this Tomas dude to pulp and let him rot in the same alley he had the misfortune of meeting him in. He may or may not have been the cause for some extra injuries. Cassian appreciated the woman’s attempt at mercy. He, however, didn’t trust Tomas at all. He was dubious about just handing him over to the police. Who’s to know he won’t frame him and the woman for absurd things? Anyway, he left a note in Tomas’s house saying something like “Step out of line, lose your favourite part of anatomy. Name it and have it for your meal.” He made sure he printed so that no one would recognise his writing. Yet, all this didn’t calm his nerves one bit. He presumed he’ll have to stay on guard for some time now.

Now, back to the girl. He sighed. He didn’t dare change the sheets in his guest bedroom. He didn’t even let Mor use the room when she came over last weekend— which he could bet created suspicion. No, that room was only open when he craved her scent. He even realised one of his shirts was missing. He shrugged it off thinking he would've left it somewhere and just couldn't find it. Once she came to his house, he was constantly thinking about her. So much that now he started pinching himself often. It was the only way he could stop thinking about her— by creating physical pain.

Cassian glanced at the clock on the wall. 2.30 in the afternoon. He walked to the refrigerator and checked his freezer compartment. Huh. No ice-cream. He sighed, grabbed his jacket and keys and headed to the mall to get an ice-cream with a pout. He’ll have to leave for Rhys and Feyre’s first anniversary only around 5.30 to prepare everything. He has enough time to get an ice-cream and probably hang out for some time. Good enough to stop thinking about her. Or so he thought.

***

Nesta wasn’t sore anymore. Her headache was gone almost a week after the incident. Her nose didn’t hurt anymore. Okay, maybe a little bit. It didn’t hurt unless she bumped her nose against something. Today, her nose was dully throbbing because she hit her nose against a pillow yesterday. A very, very soft pillow and yet it hurt this much.

The man’s first-aid and medicines were really helpful.

It really wasn’t fair that he excelled at basic first aid too. It wasn’t fair that he looked so good. With black tattoos swirling over generously muscled arms and shoulder-length dark hair curling at the edges and gloriously tanned skin and hazel eyes with minute flecks of green and brown when taken a closer look at and dimples and—

A quiet “Who is it?” snapped Nesta out of her moping. She looked up to see Gwyn walking to her.

“Who is what?” she asked, feigning nonchalance. Gwyn's pursed lips and glare conveyed that her act wasn't enough.

“Who are you thinking about?” Gwyn clarified.

“What makes you think I'm thinking about someone?” Nesta retorted.

Gwyn sat on the chair next to her and started assisting with classifying the unceremonious heap of books on the table to be kept back in its correct positions on its own rack.

“Nesta,” Gwyn sighed, “Clotho assigned you this stack almost an hour ago. And you've barely finished a third of the stack. Normally, you'd finish stacks bigger than this in an hour. So there's clearly something.”

“It wasn't anyone,” Nesta mumbled.

As usual, Gwyn saw through her lie. “You were twirling your hair,” she said flatly.

Heat inched up her neck. “I was not!”

Gwyn murmured a “uh-huh” and they lapsed into an easy silence till they were almost over.

Gwyn's eyes lit up as it normally did whenever she got an idea. “Is it him? The guy you came with that day?”

Nesta scowled, “How do you know…” she broke off when she realised which 'that day' Gwyn was talking about. Nesta fought back a blush. “No, no, this isn't about him. We don't know each other. Much. Like, we've seen each other a number of times? That's it. Nothing else.” Cauldron, the first part was a complete lie. But at least the rest are true. Will Gwyn happen to know his name? Maybe I ought to ask her. Or maybe I shouldn't.

She should, she decided. She cleared her throat. “Uh, Gwyn? Do you happen to know his name?”

Gwyn frowned and asked, “He hasn't told you yet?”

Nesta shook her head and answered, “No, we, uh, forgot. I guess. We haven't really exchanged names.”

Gwyn nodded and smiled. “Well, he is—”

“Gwyn!” a voice called. “You can't expect me to come over to you and beg for you to help me. Help me only if you want to or don't work under me.”

Gwyn’s eyes widened. She abruptly stood up and mouthed, “Merrill. I gotta go. I’m so sorry.” She all but ran to Merrill, the very strict librarian Gwyn was working under.

Nesta sighed and continued her work. There wasn’t much left so she was able to finish fast. She picked her things and left the library with a word to Clotho, heading to the mall.

***

The best way to keep whatever problems one has out of their mind was to also eat something they liked. So, ice-cream it was. After having his ice-cream, Cassian was aimlessly walking around the mall. Here, not more than a month ago, he met her for the first time. Almost a month ago. He huffed out a breath. The fact that he was pining for her this long blew his mind off. He—

“This is your fault— not mine. I’m not taking the blame for this,” he told her. They bumped into each other. Again.

Her lips quirked up. “It is kind of my fault. But blame this—,” she poked his chest, “— for making my nose hurt again.”

Just like that, his mood sobered. “How are you?” he asked.

She pointed at the cafe to her left. “Coffee?”

He nodded. Who was he to say no to her?

So they ordered coffee and talked about everything and nothing. He grinned and she laughed. He laughed and she smirked. He wouldn’t say he knew her well but he’d never seen her so carefree. Her laugh was like nectar for a starving man. Her eyes bright and welling up with tears from laughing.

“I don’t think I’ve laughed this much,” she said.

Cassian put a hand on his heart dramatically and said, “I know, I know. I’m very funny.”

Her lips kicked up a notch. She straightened as if she just realised something. He was about to ask when she drawled, “So I just realised that we still haven’t exchanged names.”

Oh. Right. Of course. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Usually, when people meet, they start with introductions but in our case we’ve literally bumped into each other three times and still we don’t know each other.” He shook his head and extended his hand. “Well, hello there. I’m—”

His phone rang in his pocket. Fuck. He was going to kill whoever was calling him now. He was so close to knowing her name. He pulled out his phone to see an incoming call from Azriel. He apologetically looked up at her and said, “I’m sorry. I wish I could choose not to take this call and instead kill this idiot but I can’t. Just give me a moment, okay?”

She nodded and he picked up his call.

“What do you want?” he hissed.

“It’s 5.30 already, you idiot. We’ve got to get the things ready for the party. Mor already went to get the cake and you’re not even at home. Where on all earth and hell are you?” came Az’s faint voice.

“15 minutes only? Mother above, I’m coming.” he said.

Az’s “make it fast” was the last thing he heard before hanging up. “I wish we could stay here and talk forever,” he said to her, “but I have something up in a short while and I totally didn’t realise time was passing this fast. I’m so sorry. It was nice talking to you. Really. And I wish we could meet again. Though without the bumping part.”

He grinned when she smiled and said, “Bye. Have a nice day.”

“You too,” he called back. He didn’t want to think he imagined the subtle look of disappointment on her face because hell, he was a walking epitome of disappointment right now.

taglist:

@shadowsinger07 @im-someone-i-guess @saltyfortunes @cressjacquine @julian-blackthorn-supremacy @champanheandluxxury @zemiraa @ladygabrielli1997 @nehemikkele @heartless--aromantic @sv0430 @ddsworldofbooks @irenethaleia @sjm-things @dontgetsalmonella

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etherealskeletons · 3 years ago

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i hate that since i had a pinched nerve my back is jus not the way it use to be

my chiropractor said id have good and bad days and that itll take time for it to go back to normal but i jus,, i hate that - i hate that i have bad days, i hate how somedays i can walk around for miles and be fine and other days everything hurts and it jus shoots down my legs making standing and walking painful and sometimes even laying down or sitting hurts so i have to sit or lay down stupid and at weird angles so i can be comfey nd sometimes even going to the bathroom hurts my back i m jus hghh;;;

ts frustrating!!! i hate when people go ohh youre too young to have back problems and i feel like im letting everyone down bc some days i cant really do as much as i normally can, and my therapist wants me to go out more and do more stuff to be less of a shut in and im not oppose to it like id like to go volunteer at the animal shelter but my lower back and legs,,, and then i feel bad bc im not doing ‘my homework’ which is go do smth productive outside the house and do stuff alone for jus a couple hours a day so you can be less anxious and eventually be a part of society

the big thing was volunteering but i feel like i cant do much of anything now bc of my lower back/legs and im jus!! frustrated,, i dont wanna do it only to overdo it and i dont wanna flake and let everyone down bc my problems and i dont wanna pass out again [ESP IN PUBLIC,, thats jus,, horrifying;;;] from overdoing it. and explaining it is embarrassing bc its normally followed with smth like ohh ur so young u shouldnt be THIS fucked up [even tho ive been doing heavy lifting since i was like 8 so,, :^) was prolly inevitable that this would happen] i dont wanna disappoint my therapist or anyone im jus hghh;;;

it prolly doesnt help my back that my cousins husband is like okay!! lets work!! and their work is normally so fuckin intense and heavy lifting and they want it done fast like done YESTERDAY and its always during extreme sun and bug hour so its hot im sweating and these black flies are everywhere biting and going in my eyes and mouth. im not oppose to helping but its a lil tiring doing it nearly every day and id rather work with my cousin than peter bc he makes work miserable he micromanages everything and angrily sighs and is so passive aggressive like WELL I WOULDNT DO IT LIKE THAT like dude stfu im getting it done jus work on ur own shit!! working with my cousin is nicer bc its not an everyday thing and we can take breaks and theres no huge rush to get EVERYTHING done and she doesnt micromanage shes like “whatever works for u man id jus like it done sometime today if possible” like ty,, ill do my b est;;

i think i made my back worse by working for days & hours straight with little to no breaks with my dad and cousin, and we did it so peter could be surprised that we made the outside look ~so pretty~ bc hes been bitching about how the yard looks like shit so my cousin is bending over backwards to try and please his majesty so he can stop being such a fucking bitch to us

its a big ass property,, it felt never ending my god. we rake and leafblow and move heavy ass lumber and pallets and some building material thats jus been sitting out there rotting/warping for god only knows how much. we moved fuckin heavy ass packets of shingles and my cousin is so fuckin DUMB theyre heavy as hell and were struggling to even put it in the wheelbarrow its so heavy, and shes like “what if we dont use the wheelbarrow and jus carry them to the pallet in the garage? wouldnt that be easier than lifitng them in here and wheeling it?? ts only a couple feet i mean,, itd be faster we can carry two of em at the same time like were wheeling two of them rn-” im like girl ill LITERALLY die if we do that!! no!! its heavy as fuck and i keep almost dropping it picking it up from the ground and from the wheelbarrow - im not walking the 15 feet to move it!! [i dont understand the mindset of work stupid fast and harder and in ways that could injure yourself like??? dude i only have one body pLES stop trying to fuck it up even more its already at the limits i swear-]

ofc bc peters a mega-karen too!!! he was upset and bitched to my cousin in private that he wouldnt have done it the way we all did it and its like WO!W!! GO TO HELL!!! i get that youre hurting and upset that you cant do as much bc of your shoulder and ankle [but you do it anyway when u aint suppose to and then bitch and complain that ur body is falling apart] but dont take it out on us its so stupid i hate him!!!! im hurting too bitch but im trying not to take it out on everyone bc they dont deserve to be as miserable as i am

hghfdsbj im jus!! i hate feeling so shitty i wanna do more stuff i wanna go out more bc the weather is finally nice and i wanna get outta the house, but ifeel like i cant and its upsetting that my body isnt working properly i hate it i hate it sm

#💀.txt #diary #smth positiv tho everyones nice to me when im sick or in pain so thats nice

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miracul0us-multishipper · 5 years ago

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“You”

A grin spread over Felix' face as he let the charade drop.

“Me.”

The black haired girl he now knew was Marinette rolled her eyes and turned back to her sketch book, a clear dismissal.

“You’re blocking the light. Go bother someone else.”

He sighed and brushed his hair back, decreasing the similarities to his cousin to the necessary minimum.

“Why would I? Everybody else is so boring.”

No one in this entire city had even realized he was back; not their classmates, not the teachers, not even the brunette fashion disaster that obviously had some experience with deception. Of course his little charade would have to end once Adrien had recovered from the cold that kept him at home, but until then Felix would have his fun. Yesterday he'd spend the entire day in the Bourgeois Spa, fooling the entire staff, the Mayor and his clingy brat. Despite the latter being Adriens “best friend”, not even she had realized who she was really inviting. Getting rid of her had been a little harder, but in the end he'd spent a wonderfully relaxing day in a steam bath and his skin was softer than ever. Courtesy of the ridiculously expensive mud bath he hadn’t had to pay a single penny for.

“Looks like you'd fit right in then.”, Marinette commented and drew an especially vigorous line in her book.

“Ouch. You wound me, darling!”

She shrugged and ignored him. Ignored him! That wouldn’t do.

With a last tug at his no longer messy strands he sat down next to her, leaning into her space as far as he could risk without getting slapped. His last few attempts had thought him that lesson.

“Oh, come on, Marinette, you must to tell me!”, he nagged her, happy when her face turned from concentration to annoyance. “What gave me away? Was it the wink? Or no, it was the greeting, wasn't it? Too much enthusiasm.”

“Why do you even care? You got all the others, didn’t you?”

He clicked his tongue.

“I have standards. If there's one person who can tell the difference, my performance is obviously lacking.”

She huffed and added a little bow to the skirt she was working on. Knee-length and plain colored, decorated with small ribbons. Classic and elegant, yet a touch of playfulness. He would have complimented it if he'd thought she might value his opinion.

“If it wasn’t my words or gestures, what was it?”, he asked on, not willing to give up and admit defeat. It was their little routine by now. He'd come up and try to pass as Adrien, she'd see through him and he would try to annoy her until she either gave him her full attention, or snarked him off. Marinette Dupain-Cheng – despite her cute appearance – could be mean, he'd learned.

“I don’t think I want to tell you.”, she shrugged, but he could see the beginning of a smile tugging at her lips. She'd deny it, but secretly she enjoyed their little battles of wits.

“What?”, he gasped and slumped against her in played shock, conveniently knocking the book out of her hands and onto the steps of the Trocadero. “But why?”

Now unable to draw on, she finally gave him her undivided focus.

“Because you, Monsieur Graham de Vanilly, are a major pain in my butt.”

“Oh? I would have thought you above such pettiness.”, he lamented. “To deny a fellow fashion enthusiast your criticism! To dishonor the sacred solidarity between artists! Truly a shame.”

“You? An artist?” She snickered. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“Hey! Deception is as much of an art as these tiny scribbles of yours. And I am a master of my craft, thank you very much.”

She waved her hand and shooed him back a little.

“The questionable status of your craft aside, I'd hardly call you an expert. You were here for a day and already had the entire class plus three akumas after you. Your play didn’t even last an hour before it blew up in your face. Maybe you should ask Lila for a bit of advice! She's been here for months and is still on her unquestioned bullshit.”

He growled at that, drawing out another of these smug little smirks Marinette so rarely wore. After all his visits she knew how to rile him up.

“Do not compare me to that- that klutz! Anybody could spew some fancy tales and name drop, but that doesn’t mean she has skill. There's no finesse, no authenticity beneath that badly styled hair of her.”

“And there is beneath yours?”, Marinette said sweetly. He huffed and raised his chin.

“Of course there is. I don’t run around as Adrien for the fame, but for the fun of it. And I actually put in some effort. I was only found out because my goal required breaking character, and I still had a score to settle with my dear cousin. You think I only depend on my pretty face, because it looks conveniently close to Adrien? Wrong!”

His chest swoll a little as he spoke. With his accomplishments, he'd earned a little pride in himself.

“True, artful deception requires three things Lila Rossi couldn’t fake if her life depended on it: Discretion, Distraction and the right timing. She only ever barges in headfirst, unable to survive even a second outside of the spotlight.”

She hummed.

“My mistake. How could I ever assume you to be alike, since you obviously care so little about getting attention?”

Snarky little minx. Well, she wasn’t wrong, to be fair.

“Enough of that!”, he decided and eagerly turned back to her. “Now tell me what gave me away.”

“Let me see...”, she mused and pursed her lips. “I guess I could tell you that...”

“Yes?”

“...under certain circumstances...”

“Go on!”

“...it might be...”

“Might be?”

“The scent.”

He blinked. This had been his mistake? What kind of cologne did his cousin even wear?

“The... the scent.”

“Uh-huh.”

She moved to get back to her sketching, but he snatched the book before she could even touch it.

“Nah-ah! First you've got to expand on that. What perfume is he wearing?”

She shrugged and leaned back.

“Oh, isn’t it obvious? Adrien always wears “Manners and Class” N° 5. You on the other hand reek of “Wouldn’t know politeness if it hit me in the face”. A poor choice, really.”

She leaned in.

“You stink.”

It took a moment for her words to register, and he couldn't suppress a gasp when they did. With a satisfied smile she tugged her sketchbook out of his hands and crossed her legs, ready to put the finishing touch on her latest design. Felix fell back on the step next to her.

“That's it.”

“Yup.”

“You've won.”

“Fair and square.”

“I am defeated.”

“Annihilated. But to be fair, that opening was too easy.”

“Perfect set-up. Clean execution. Merciless punchline. You have earned your victory, so claim it properly.”

“I will.”

He fell silent after that, acknowledging his defeat. He lasted all but two minutes before his need for attention beat his shame.

“So? What do you want as your prize?”

“Peace and quiet?”, she proposed, gnawing at the end of her pencil.

He shook his head in disbelief.

“You're more ambitious than that, Dupain-Cheng. Here I am, Felix Graham du Vanilly, offering you everything I can give, and you settle for peace and quiet? Tsk, you can do better than that.”

“Maybe I could ask you to clear the area, while I’m already at it. For the entire week.”

He should leave. He wouldn’t get any real feedback out of her today, and now that he had offered her a prize she might develop some common sense and ask him for his connections, or some favors that could get her publicity. He was stretching his luck every time he decided to pester her again.

But he stayed. Whether it was his wounded pride, or his curiosity ever since she'd sent that little love declaration to his cousin... he couldn’t allow the only borderline interesting person in this city to dismiss him like that. Especially not when he hadn’t been able to get a rise out of her yet.

An idea popped into his mind and he spoke before he could think.

“You could ask me for a date.”

Now Marinette did put her book away.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

She blinked.

“Did you miss the part where I asked you to leave me to my scribbles, as you put it? Because I am sure I mentioned it a few times, now.”

“No, doesn’t ring a bell.”

She groaned and closed her book. He counted that as a victory.

“Well, then maybe you remember the fact that I’m in love with Adrien. Which you already know, since you watched the video clearly addressed to him. And deleted said video. And replied very rudely.”

He hummed and stood up to circle her. An actor had to have a sense of drama, after all.

“The past is the past. And in the present, I look just like Adrien.”

Now he finally seemed to have broken through her cool facade.

“So what?”, she snapped at him, crossing her arms. “Do you think I like him for his looks? Am I that shallow, in your opinion?”

Of course she wasn’t. But he'd finally struck a nerve.

“You're not?”, he provoked slyly.

“No!”

She stomped her pink flats on the ground with more force than should be physically possible.

“I love him because he is kind. And thoughtful. And funny and confident and fair and so classy, and because he loves to make friends, and because he's loyal and caring and-“

“Okay, okay, I get it. He's your little fairy tale prince.”, he interrupted a little harsher than intended. Clearing his throat he continued. “And you'll be relieved to know that I don’t want to date you either. No offense to you, but I am above such mundane things as crushes.”

She rolled her eyes and sat back down.

“Of course you are.”

“Fact is, my dear Marinette,” he lectured smugly, “that you can’t even say two words to your loverboy without seemingly suffering a particularly unflattering stroke.”

“What a flowery statement, Sherlock.”

“Another fact is that you can talk very fluently to me. Far too fluently, in my opinion.”

Marinette's eyes narrowed with suspicion and he smiled.

“What's your point?”

“My point is,” he finished his circling and came to a stand right in front of her. “that you can use me to practice. Here, I'll even mess up my hair again!”

“Wait, I didn’t even agree to-“

“You're welcome. Aren’t I a dashing little dream prince?”

He posed in true Adrien fashion and Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Please, just don’t.”

“Pah! Ungrateful as always. Anyway, back to business!”

He spun into a dramatic pirouette and kneeled down before her, taking her hand between his.

“Marinette, my fairest!”, he proclaimed with vigor. “Is there something on that bright mind of yours you want to share with me, Adrien Agreste?”

She groaned again, but didn’t pull away.

“If you'll leave me alone after that...”

“I'll do anything my good friend asks of me! I am sunshine personified!”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Close enough.”

He almost regretted looking for Marinette this late. The sun was about to set and most tourists had already left for locations with a better view. If there had been more, one might have captured a snap shot of Adrien Agreste kneeling in front of a random girl about to confess. His cousin would be delighted when he found out about his scandal in the news.

Alas, it was only the two of them who paid attention to each other. But Marinette was about to begin, so he didn’t ponder on the viewers anymore.

“I... I wanted to tell you that...”

He almost winced at that poor display of rhetorical talent, but she wasn’t done yet. Taking a deep breath, Marinette lifted her eyes off of her shoes and looked directly at him. And for a moment it felt as if she were looking into him. He'd seen these bluebell eyes roll in annoyance, glare in anger and sparkle with mirth, but never had he seen them this piercing, this all-consuming.

“Adrien, there's something I haven’t told you yet.”, she said, and it was as if he'd never heard her speak before. This wasn’t the voice that had teased and bantered with him, or the disinterested lull she mumbled in when she tried to ignore him. This was soft, yet firm and confident. Like tugging the strings of a violin: a clear, pleasant sound that offered a first hint of the potential in this slender instrument.

“I didn’t keep this from you because I don’t value our friendship.”, she said and her fingers tightened around his. Felix was suddenly sure that no expensive mudbath could ever make his skin as soft as hers. “It's the furthest thing from it. I didn’t tell you because I value our friendship so much. And I was scared to risk it.”

She took a step closer and he had to swallow.

“Adrien, you are the first person I think of when I wake up, and the only person I see in my dreams. Every morning, when I walk into class and see you, I feel like there's pure sunshine in my chest and springs under my feet. Like gravity is just a loose suggestion and I could float if I jumped. Like... like I could do anything I ever dreamed of.”

She looked down upon their hands. Disentangling their fingers surprised him, but even more surprising was that this time, she took his hands between hers.

“I know you feel trapped sometimes.”, she whispered and he found himself suddenly very insecure. Was she still acting? Was she this deep in their little charade? Or... or was she truly talking to him?

“I know you put up a smile and try to give everybody what they expect. And that you don’t have a lot of chances to just be you, not the heir of a great legacy. But I... I want to be your escape. Your safe haven. What I am trying to say is...”

She looked back up to him, and her smile was radiant.

“I love you.”

...

There was a tightness in his chest.

Because he wasn’t breathing, he realized.

Odd.

He didn’t have time to overthink this little detail, though. For as soon as he opened his mouth to say something – what, he didn’t know – she blinked and took a step back. The spell faded and his mouth fell shut again.

“So,” Marinette cleared her throat and looked away. “How... How was it?”

“Uh...”, he made, which was admittedly not the smartest reply he’d ever given her. The fact that he still hadn’t remembered to breathe in didn’t make things easier.

Marinette shifted her weight from one leg to the other, uncomfortable.

“That bad?”

Ha.

Ha ha.

He shook his head and finally sucked in some much needed air.

“Good”, he croaked out, which was still not much of an improvement from his earlier statement of ‘uh’.

“It was... really good.”

Ah. The simple beauty of a full sentence.

“You think so?”, she asked, voice high with surprise. “It wasn’t... I don’t know, a little too much?”

“No!”, he answered a little too fast. “Uh, no. No, it was really... really good.”

Marinette's eyes went narrow.

“Are you making fun of me? Because I may be small, but if you did this to humiliate me then I swear to god, I will take this pencil and-“

“I was serious. What you said was beautiful.”

They both blinked at his words. He hadn’t meant to say that. This wasn’t how their interactions went. They were snarky. Mean. Teasing from time to time. But not... this. Never this open. Never vulnerable.

“Thank you.”, Marinette gave back, seemingly unsure herself. “I should... you know, it’s late and my parents are waiting.”

He nodded far too eagerly for his earlier efforts to make her stay.

“Yes, of course. I'll... No, you know the way better than me, probably.”

She laughed at that. It wasn’t a snicker, or one of her smug little huffs. It sounded... sweet.

“Yeah, no need to walk me home.”

She eyed him for a a moment, then the emptying place.

“I could walk you home, though. If you want to.”

Yes.

“No.”, he said and something in his chest roared in disappointment. “Thank you, but it would be quite the detour for you.”

She shrugged.

“Alright. Don’t get lost.”

Shouldering her bag she took her sketch book and moved to leave, but stopped mid movement to turn back around.

“Oh, and if you tell anybody – especially Adrien! – about any of this, you'll find out what I was going to do with that pencil! Got it?”

He rolled his eyes, finally in control of himself.

“Yes, oh great master of pencilmanship. Your weapon is as feared as its wielder.”

Satisfied she nodded and turned around, but stopped yet again. With a groan she dropped the bag, stepped in front of him and grabbed his collar. He'd never admit to anybody that the surprised squeal that followed had come from him. Utterly frozen in shock he could only watch as Marinette came closer and...

“There!”, she hummed and combed back his hair with her fingers. “I like you hair better this way.”

A small nod was all he could muster up, but it was enough for her. Waving him goodbye she turned around for good.

“Well then. See you around, Felix!”

He watched her leave, desperately trying to regain his voice.

“Y-Yeah. See you around, Marinette.”

Only when she had completely disappeared in the nearby metro station he allowed himself to sit down, wobbly knees no longer able to support him.

“What...”, he mumbled to himself, “...the entire fuck...”

What did just happen? Nothing made sense, not this stupid idea and certainly not his reaction to it. Sighing he leaned back against the steps and touched his hair. It was still a little messy, but laid back against his head in its usual fashion. If he concentrated he could almost feel the warmth of her fingers trapped between his strands.

He sighed deeply.

...damnit.

- - -

A little one shot because I hadn't written about canon!felix yet.

#miramu writes #felinette #felix graham de vanily #canon felix #ml felix #ml felinette #ml marinette #marinette dupain cheng

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sweetestlamb · 4 years ago

Text

Lighting Up Your World Part 2

Episode 18

Author’s notes: THANK YOU!!!!! I’ll start there, thank you guys for your overwhelming support on part 1 that I posted yesterday. You guys make me feel like such a great writer, hearing that some of you cried because of something I wrote. incredible. This part is shorter because I was a bit strapped for time and I scrapped a vast amount the original version I had because I got new ideas and I just didn’t feel like the other version was enough or had the feeling I wanted. Anyway, I hope you guys still enjoy Part 2 aka Episode 18. Tell me your favorite line in the comments, I just think that would be cute hehe lol. *Plays “Lighting Up Your World” ♫ ♫

He remembers the exact moment that he purchased the ring, its sparkling brilliance from under the glass display, he imagined it sitting on her dainty fingers taking the place of her many other decorative rings. He imagined her face has he placed it on her finger. The store associate had wondered over to him with a knowing smile on his face, as if he knew that look very well, had seen it on the lovesick faces of countless men. After a few minutes of rapid questioning, he walked out with the precious stone in his possession, nerves shooting up and down his veins until he felt like a ball of anxiety. The ring heavy as lead in his pocket as he staggered home in a daze, in disbelief at what he'd done.

When he had come home to the castle, he could feel the ring burning a hole through the pocket of his jeans. His heart pattering away, erratic in his chest. He avoided eye contact with Mun-yeong as she greeted him at the door, candied smile welcoming home as she eagerly pulling him into the house demanding that he play with her.

She hadn’t been amused by his suggestion of cards.

Viciously pushing him in the wall and latching onto his neck like a leech. Hours later, he stumbled out of bed panting as he stealthily hid the box in the bottom of his drawer,covering it with mounds of clothes before tiptoeing into his bed alongside his brother dreaming of Mun-yeong in pristine white walking down an aisle that was laden with soft pink rose petals that matched the hue of her lips. He woke up saying "I do." Relieved that his brother was a relatively deep sleeper and hadn't heard his slip of tongue.

The sounds of nature, birds chirping and the wind rustling leaves pulled him from the sandman's hold, as he blinked awake, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes. Immediately he noticed the lack of pressure on his arm, too light without her head cushioned on his bicep as she used him as her personal pillow. He had long stopped trying to get her to use a pillow, she was adamant that his arms were a perfect substitute. A wave of pride blossomed in his chest every time she would stroke a finger across the bulging muscle, humming in approval, openly appreciating his body.

Stumbling to the bathroom he groggily brushes his teeth before hopping in the shower to wash off the sweat that lingered from being pressed against her flesh all night. After changing into his outfit, another t-shirt and jeans with sneakers, he’s a creature of habit. He walks out of the camping can eyes scouting for his missing girlfriend before finding her over the open grill, poking at the meat she's grilling, tongue poking out slightly as she impatiently waits for their tenderness.

What he doesn't expect to see is a little helper on her side, Min-jo, sits in the chair right next to her, eagerly watching the meat as it grills, babbling away at Mun-yeong, who for the most part looks content in the child's presence.

"How do I pick the people I put in my family?" Her innocent voice lifts with curiosity as she peers up at Mun-yeong, eyes shining brightly with young hope and naivete. "What age will I be ready to choose my family?"

With a sigh he watches Mun-yeong bring a slightly underdone piece of beef to her mouth, she's always too impatient to wait for food to reach its necessary temperature for consumption, higher internal heat his ass. The juices from the meat run down the side of her mouth, and he's left feeling like he's watching a lioness in the wild, lethal and it is majestic.

"Didn't I already tell you to stop following me? I don't have any answers for you." She dismissively responds, looking exasperated clearly this isn't her first time hearing and rebuking this question.

He coughs to announce his arrival, watching both their eyes snap up to settle on him, one pair with adoration the other disinterest then glee.

Min-jo greets him first, "Hi, Mr.Prince!" She waves enthusiastically at him, little hand looking like it could take flight at any moment, he blushes at his new moniker, glaring at Mun-yeong who smirks at the intended response.

"You don't need to call me that, remember I told you my name." He answers sheepishly rubbing his neck.

"But Ms. Witch told me that you and your brother, who is an illustrator saved her from her castle and then you lived happily ever after. I never knew that princes could save witches." She says the last sentence with pure wonder, sighing softly.

"Only if they're pretty princes just can't resist a pretty witch. They follow them wherever they go." Mun-yeong teasingly eyed him, images of young Gang-tae happily trailing after a dispassionate Mun-yeong playing out in both of their memories.

"Well I didn't exactly save her from the castle, I just lived there with her. Together, we made it happier. We became a family and a family has to live together, so they can lean on each other and not do pointless work." Mun-yeong scoffs at his reminder of Sang-tae's story, rolling her eyes affectionately at him.

"That sounds nice. And now you live on a house on wheels. I've never seen one before." She eyes the camping van, as he approaches them taking the last chair, on the left with Mun-yeong in the center.

"How long have you two been here?"

"This brat came here an hour ago, I keep telling her to go away but she won't listen. " She hands his a bowl of food and he notes with barely concealed amusement that a smaller bowl is aggressively placed in Min-jo's grasping hands.

"Thank you Miss Witch!" Min-jo chirps sweetly, scarfing down the food without another word.

Mun-yeong watches her before devouring her own food, her leg brushing against his when she sways into his body heat, a morning chill lingering in the air, as he glances at her and notices that she is wearing a short cotton romper, soft blue with white speckles splashed across the material. Drastic shift from yesterday's funeral best, he smiles at the implications. He wraps an arm around her shoulder drawing her into his heat, her hum of satisfaction rumbling through his body.

Min-jo's chopsticks clink on the bowl as she asks, "If you two share a brother, does that mean you are brother and sister?" His cheeks redden at the inquisitive child.

"No. He's my boyfriend, we share his brother."

"Oh." She easily accepts before adding to his embarrassment, "What do you do with a boyfriend?"

He whips his head to stare at Mun-yeong willing her not to ruin the innocence of a child, she looks back at him with a straight face before answering, "Well a lot of fun things. Sometimes we kiss, he likes that a lot and sometimes we even--"

"Yah!" He pinches her arm, hard.

She slaps him in retaliation, pouting as she soothes her pained skin, "I was going to say hug and hold hands. Why did you pinch me?"

He doesn't believe her for one second, her filter non-existent indiscriminate of the audience.

He glares at her until she resumes eating her food, ignoring the rest of Min-jo’s constant stream of questions. If she kept this up she could be an adept detective.

Entertaining a child has never been a task he's been troubled with before and he worries his lip as he looks at the little girl bouncing in her chair with unfiltered glee. They’d made the mistake of feeding her and now she had a boundless amount of energy, unable to keep still for even a moment.

"What should we do now Miss Witch?"

"I'm not here to entertain you. And he's my toy so you can't play with him." She juts her thumb in his direction, he admonishes at her statement arguing that he is not a toy. She nods unconvincingly as if his arguments are futile and she has already made up her mind.

"I'm bored." Min-jo continues, ignoring them.

"Then leave."

"But I don't want to." She whines.

"Then make your own fun."

Their bickering reminds him so much of Mun-yeong and Sang-tae tears prickle in his eyes as he decides to check on his brother. It's been two days since his abrupt departure, the longest they've been without each other. He softly announces that he'll her right back before disappearing into the van, their rising voices following him each step of the way.

I'm fine. I'm working and drawing. Stop worrying, have fun with Mun-yeong. Remember a kiss is better than a fight.

The highlights of his conversation with his older brother, who had answered on his third ring, rushing him off the phone because he was quote, "very booked and busy", he really needed to stop Mun-yeong from teaching his hyung her ridiculous slang. Especially phrases like that, that even he couldn't decipher. He had hummed along as if he wasn't completely lost before bidding Sang-tae goodbye.

He took a moment for himself before rejoining them outside, letting his brother's voice wash over him. He knew their relationship had a tinge of codependency but hadn't realized to what extent until their separation. This was good for them. Healthy. He knew that now.

It just hurt a little right now, but that was okay. Pain wasn't permanent.

The sounds of water splashing hit his ear drums as he jumps off the last step of the camping van, as if on autopilot he rushes to the lake, cold chill on his skin as he searches for Mun-yeong.

She stands on the bank of the lake. Safely out of reach, watching as Min-jo flaps her little arms wildly keeping herself afloat. She is helped by the presence of bright pink floaties on her arms, buoying her onto the surface of the wet escape.

"Can you come in the water Miss Witch?"

He watches Mun-yeong gaze at the water, fear bleeding into her irises before she blinks it away. Brief and clipped response, "No."

There is a pregnant pause, before the child continues, "Are witches afraid of water?"

Mun-yeong's eyes are cold as she looks at Min-jo, he watches the interaction enraptured in this achingly honest conversation encrypted in their own language.

"Yes."

He's releases a breath he didn't know he was hiding. Watching Min-jo nod at her response, "That's okay. Everyone is scared of something. I'm scared of being alone. But you said when I'm older I can find a family. Maybe one day you'll find a way to be in the water." She says it matter of fact, like she has no doubt that Mun-yeong will conquer this fear.

The sun is no longer as high in the sky and the skyline begins to swirl into hues of pink, orange and yellow. Like a mad painter dragged their unwashed paintbrush across the surface.

"I think it's time we took you back." His voice breaks their bubble as they turn to look at him. He smiles at them both, charmed by this little whirlwind who has bulldozed her way into Mun-yeong's path. Vaguely wondering what happens when a tornado and a hurricane meet?

They walk back to the diner, Min-jo in the center and the eyes that land on them make him wonder if they look like a family, Min-jo had reached out to grasp their hands but Mun-yeong had slapped it away complaining of her dirty lake hands. The girl had only laughed before happily holding his hand instead before Mun-yeong broke between them, reminding her that he was her toy much to this chagrin.

The same older woman who had prevented Min-jo from following them the previous day, hastily bursts through the door as they draw close enough to be seen, her frantic voice shrill in the air, "Where have you been? Why did you leave without telling me? Are you okay?!" She grabs Min-jo, raptly checking her body for injuries, touching the wet hair on her head before looking at them angrily.

"Who are you? And why are you with this child?"

Min-jo beats them to answer, "This is the pretty witch and her prince." She beams at the woman, who looks taken back at the response.

He bows low in apology before continuing the explanation, "I'm Moon Gang-tae and this is my girlfriend Ko Mun-yeong. She came to find us we wanted to make sure she made it back safely."

She stares at him, scrutinizing his answer but once she sees that the girl is not harmed she sighs before accept his apology, "Okay. Thank you, I'm sorry for any trouble she caused you." She respectfully bows in return.

"You must have been really worried about her."

She freezes at his statement, looking down at Min-jo before averting her eyes, "No. I wasn't. I.....was just bothered thinking about her."

He raises an eyebrow at the defensive deflection.

"That's the same thing." Mun-yeong quips sharply.

The woman's eyes narrow but there is no argument.

They all stand in silence, the wind howls around them, darkness beginning to fall as the sun drifts into the water.

It is time for them to go.

"Well this is goodbye, be well and stay safe." He bows once more, Mun-yeong waves once before turning away without another word to either. He shoots Min-jo an apologetic smile as her huge wet eyes follow Mun-yeong longingly.

Then she's ripping herself from the tight grip of the woman who cries at the action. She runs straight into Mun-yeong's back. Little feet thundering on the ground and she quickly closes the distance between them.

"Wait."

Mun-yeong halts her movement, still facing away.

"Can....I?.." She stutters around the words that jumble in her mouth, eyes staring a hole in Mun-yeong's back, she must be impervious to its heat. After a long drawn out pause she bravely finishes her question, "Can I be apart of your family?" The hope laced in her voice batters at his heart, she's just a child who wants to be loved. Crying out for it. Begging for it.

"No."

Her little head bows in defeat, nodding as if she understands, nobody wants her and she doesn't belong anywhere.

She starts to walk back to the woman, all the previous joy and wonder sucked from every cell of her body. Walking as if a marionette on a string, stilted.

"We're leaving. A family needs to stay together, to lean on each other." Mun-yeong's voice causes her to pause mid step, a twinge warmer than it was earlier. The first day of spring after winter's bitter cold. "You should find a family that worries about you and who needs someone to lean on too. A family that will never leave you."

He watches as those huge eyes slowly travel until they land on the lady. She runs back to her, body trembling as she looks at her like she's seeing her for the first time. Eyes now able to see what has always been right in front of her.

"Can we be a family?"

The woman gasps, turning her head away, eyes glistening. Min-jo reaches out and takes her hand, small palms appearing even tinier in the woman’s hold as she peers up hopeful once more.

He turns away before he can see the conclusion, walking away to fall into step with Mun-yeong, who turns to meet his gaze. He notices the tear streaks on her skin, fondly looking at her, falling ever more in love.

"How did it end?"

He shrugs, taking her hand, "I didn't stay. But I hope it's a happy ending."

"Me too." She squeezes his hand, tightly.

******************************************************************************************

She wordlessly goes into the camping van announcing that she wants to take a nap. He nods at her, pressing a kiss to her wet cheek before letting her go.

He opens the box of supplies he bought days ago, nerves all but obliterated, he's never been surer of anything in his life. He works diligently but quietly, eyes tracking the door of the camping van to ensure Mun-yeong doesn't suddenly appear before he's done. As he finishes his last touches, he climbs the stairs of the camping van. Eyes softening at the sight of his girlfriend laying on his bed roll, snuggling into his night shirt. He coos at the rare and precious sight, loathing the idea of waking her.

The choice is taken from him when her lashes flutter open and her unfocused eyes land on him, she jumps up nonchalantly hiding the shirt behind her. He pretends not to see it, pointedly looking away from her. Before he beckons her up.

"Come with me."

He offers his hand, sees her in all blue glowing in the sun as she waited for him.

Once again, she takes his hand. It's just as sweet as the first time. His heart is giddy with love.

He contemplates asking her to close her eyes but ultimately decided against it, he wants her to see and relish every moment.

Her small gasp as he pushes the door open makes his heart tremble and do a back-flip, bouncing all around the cavities of his chest. She looks around astonished at the scene, the faint twinkling of the fairy lights that adorn the camping van, blinking rhythmically, like stars that fell from the sky, the long winding path of rose petals that lead to a blanket that is topped with a bountiful basket and a bucket with wine.

"Wow."

She turns to look at him, eyes glossy and shining under the luminescence of the fairy lights. "What is this?"

He doesn't answer her question, actions have always spoken louder than words for him. He escorts her down the path of petals, softly crunching under their feet. Until they reach the blanket and he helps her sit before lowering himself next to her.

He opens the basket, removing all the food he purchased and hid away, small sandwiches and fresh fruits. He plucks a strawberry out before pressing it to her lips, "Open up." The dark desire that rolls through her eyes makes his body flush in return. She obeys silently, wrapping her lips around the soft flesh of the berry, biting down, relishing at the flavor before swallowing. She feeds him a slice of honey dew in return, fingers dragging across his lips bewitchingly.

They consume the rest of the food in silence, feeding themselves and each other in equal turns. Before he pours them both a bottle of the cheap wine he was able to purchase in a liquor store in the town. Her eyes never leave his face as she drinks the wine, captivated by his every move.

"Are you full?" He whispers not wanting to interrupt the calm that has settled like a warm blanket over them.

"Yes, I'm no longer hungry." Intentional pause, as her eyes lock on his lips. "For food."

Adjusting himself in his pants he ignores her tempting offer, for now. The main event is still around the corner and he needs all his wits for that.

Taking her hand in his large palms, he rubs his thumb along the soft skin, gazing into her eyes with his own laid open, wanting her to see everything he feels.

"Mun-yeong, I love you. I love who I am with you, who I've become with you, I want to be with you always."

She blinks at his words, words escape her as she stares at him. He doesn't give her a chance to flounder much more, pulling out what he had hidden in his pocket and placing it in her hand.

The button eyes of the nightmare doll, glow under the moonlight and she looks down at the thing she once dismissed as "ugly crap", now a prized possession.

"Mang-tae?..."

"I'm still a coward a little, he's going to help me tell you a message." He guides her eyes to the scroll sticking from the pouch, all too similar to her concealed message to him.

She slowly pulls the paper from the sack, hands trembling as she unfurls it and reads the message written. She's a fast reader, incredibly so, he knows that and the message is fairly short yet she stares at it for what feels like hours, maybe even years, time is relative in the moment.

She reads the message again and again and again and again and again.

Before she finally puts it down. Then the tears come, easily, flowing like a river, soaking the neck of her romper and she lets them fall, doesn't interrupt their journey, allows herself this brief moment of vulnerability.

She's never looked more beautiful in his eyes.

He tells her so, "You look so beautiful. I want to see this face until I die."

Without a word she places Mang-tae tenderly on the blanket, before crawling into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck and she answers his question with a kiss. Their lips crash together with enough force to knock him backwards, dragging her with him as they tumble on the blanket.

Her tongue prods at his mouth and he eagerly allows her entrance, moaning at the sweet flavor of strawberry that floods his taste buds, sucking her tongue into his mouth to get more. His hands rub at the exposed skin of her back, traveling down to squeeze her soft lush ass, bringing their pelvis in contact. She grinds down sensually on his erection, moaning at the hot sensation. He pulls the tie holding her romper together, pulling back from the kiss to strip her bare. She resembles a wood nymph naked underneath the smattering of stars in the inky sky, the forest rustles around them.

While he's lost in the glory of her body, she undresses him, pulling his shirt over his head and pressing hot open kisses against his stomach, before unbuttoning his pants and pulling them own with his boxers in one firm tug. Then she hungrily gazes at his body, hands massaging his thighs before she crawls back into his arms, their bodies slotting together like puzzle pieces.

Their tongues meet in a languid battle, bodies rolling against each other like waves, uncontrollably. He presses a curious finger at the folds hidden between her thighs and groans at the enticing wetness that surrounds the digit. Coating in her sweet juices. She shakes her head above him, lifting up to dislodge his finger. He looks at her in question.

"I'm too close. I can't take foreplay. Make love to me." She pleads, demands, begs. All of them, at once.

She steals his breath, just like she did his heart and his control. He wonders what he will have left after her? What will still be his when she takes it all? He would give anything to her.

He is incapable of denying her so with a gentle grip of her waist he moves her aligning their bodies before his cock brushes against her most intimate spot, with a fluid tilt of his hip he slides into her tight pussy, it feels like coming home.

He exalts at the sensation, letting it roll over him, basking in her constrictions around him as she wiggles in his arms before pulling his ear lobe into her wet mouth, "Please."

He thrusts into her, powerful but steady, drawing her close and forcing her to meet him. She begins to ride him, feet planted beside his hips as she rams herself down into his hard cock, the view is unbelievable her face twisted in euphoria under a million dazzling stars, he takes a snapshot in his mind.

Before she knocks all thoughts out of his head, plunge down harder and faster onto him, he grabs her waist desperately, needing to slow her down. But she fights his grip, pushing his hands beside his head and he could easily take control but as he watches her fall apart he realizes she needs this. Desperately. Everything tonight has been out of her control, she needed to gain some of it back. Needed to find her footing as he effortlessly swept her off her feet.

He lets her hold his hands down, giving no resistant, watching her fuck herself on him, entranced by the indecent sight of his dick disappearing in and reappearing out of her. In. Out. In. Out. InOut. InOut. She sets a punishing pace despite asking him to make love to her but he muses that their version of love hasn't always been gentle or tranquil, sometimes it was volatile even explosive so for them this is making love. It similar to everything else in their lives has layers, that they are continually peeling back to expose a new coat.

She starts to moan loudly, little ahs so sweet in the wind, twisting and undulating until every downward thrust bumps against her clit, she keens as she pants out his name, "Moon Gang-tae, Moon Gang-tae!"

He holds on for the ride, hips slamming violently into hers as she tightens around him, walls crushing him until finally she shakes in his arms, her body twitching almost out of his hold and he swiftly snatches her back, drilling into the tight wall of her pussy until he feels his pinnacle nearing, the blood in his head surges and he feel his length swell and explode as he tumbles over the edge, driving every last drop of him inside her until she's stuffed full.

She collapses onto him, knocking the wind from his lung. But he takes her weight, wrapping her in his arms.

"Yes." She breaths into his ears.

Sliding out of the tight glove of her pussy he rolls to the side, catching Mang-tae once more, her brows farrow again.

"You didn't let me finish." He gently chides. Taking her hand and bringing it the the pouch on the doll's back once more, he sees the shock that washes over her features, eyes large in wonder as she pulls out the object hidden inside.

A sparkling gold ring, a modest princess cut diamond sits proudly on top, as beautiful as its new owner.

"Are you serious?" Her voice trembles, the tears coming again.

"Yes. But right now it's just a promise ring, a promise that one day I'll be a man who's worthy of being your husband. I wanted to give it to you now so you know that I'm yours and I want you to be mine in very sense of the word. What do you say?"

Her face crinkles into a smile, "You promised not to make me cry again. You already broke that promise tonight. You better not break this one."

He chuckles, "Those are happy tears that doesn't count. And you didn't answer my question." He needs to hear her answer.

She looks at him from under her lashes, naked and beautiful under the inky black night sky, lips blessing him with her response, "Sure. Why not?"

He smiles at the nonchalant answer as she weeps, before taking the ring from her hand, gently pressing the ring onto her finger, it looks like it belongs, perfect fit.

She tackles him onto the blanket, showering his face with kisses as he laughs loudly, freely. Living out his wildest dream with girl that he liked who become the woman that he loves.

The message on the scroll crushed between their weight. But the words are unaffected.

Marry me, someday?

They were in no rush they had a lifetime ahead of them.

Maybe even another after that, if they were reincarnated and destiny brought them together again.

*******************************************************************************************

She drives them to their new location, he doesn't comment on her driving past the diner or looking through the glass to see Min-jo happily talking to the woman, their hands wrapped around each other as she pulls the lady behind her, excitedly jabbering. Neither of them say anything but she smiles the whole drive after, humming along to BLACKPINK on the radio.

♫ ♫ Dududududu ♫ ♫

He still doesn't comment when they end up at another site with a lake and mountains in the background.

After using the bathroom when he comes out of her van he finds her standing on the bank of the river. Feet barely grazing the water.

Wrapped around her arms are the bright pink floaties he saw on Min-jo's arms.

His breath hitches as she looks back at him, defiant smile on her face. Her ring shining from its permanent spot on her finger.

She takes a step towards the water.

#its okay to not be okay fic #its okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay #moon gang tae #ko mun yeong #emotional fic #I really felt things writing this #hope you enjoy part 2 #episode 18 #tell me your favorite line

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trashscenariihxh · 5 years ago

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Morel x Reader

This was a commission! Just a reminder, when someone commissions something from me, I make the reader as specific as they want. Names, appearance, age... anything! But if the person commissioning it consents for me to post it on the blog, all of that is removed and reader becomes nameless and faceless again. Just an FYI to all would-be commissioners.

Morel had always been incredibly transparent with you about the nature of his job; you’d always accepted and supported his decisions, no matter how uneasy they made you feel at times. No, you’d never said a word against his missions and extended leaves… until now.

“You’re going where?”

Morel smiled apologetically. “Come on, Baby, don’t be angry.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “It’s not the fact that you’re leaving again.” You sighed loudly and slumped against the arm of the sofa. “It’s the fact that you’re leaving so soon. Morel…” You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed again. “You were in the hospital. For weeks.” You’d never seen him look as weak as he had when you’d visited him in the hospital after he returned from the NGL. The journey had taken so much out of him. Too much.

To your annoyance, Morel smiled again. “I’m okay, though. Really.” He reached out for you only to have his hand swatted away.

“And that’s another thing!” you continued, determinedly staring at the floor, “you’re leaving tomorrow. And you only just told me now. Don’t you realize how… disrespectful that is?”

Morel fell silent for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, slowly reaching over to you again and resting a large hand on your shoulder. “I should have mentioned it earlier. But I promise you, everything was up in the air until just yesterday.” When you didn’t respond, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and drew you into him. “Hey,” he murmured softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead, “don’t be too mad, yeah?” His hand began to trail down your arm as he drew you in even closer; when you rolled your eyes and huffed, he changed gears: wheedling became flattery.

“You look gorgeous tonight.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” You glared halfheartedly at him, only to be met with a soft smile.

“No, really.” A long finger trailed along your cheek. “You’re absolutely stunning, _____.” His grin broadened. “How am I doing? Am I getting anywhere yet?”

A snort of laughter erupted from you as you struggled to maintain the glare. “A little bit,” you conceded. Your face softened as you allowed yourself the tiniest hint of a smile. Getting angry at Morel was easy; staying angry with him was quite another matter. Morel seemed to be acutely aware of this.

“So…” he turned his body to face you. “Since I’m leaving tomorrow…”

You arched an eyebrow. “You think you deserve special treatment?”

“Maybe a little bit.” Morel shrugged, his smile not faltering.

You sighed, slumping forward. “Morel…” You trailed off as you choked on your words.

“Hey…” Strong arms pulled you into his chest as Morel held you close. “Don’t worry, _____. It’ll be okay. I’ll be fine.”

“Will you?” You rested your head against his massive chest and breathed in his scent; vaguely smokey. Warm.

“Yeah.” He rubbed soothing circles over your back. “Yeah, I will.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“And I was right. I’m fine.”

“Hmph.” You fell silent for a moment, content with enjoying the closeness and being soothed by the thrum of his heartbeat. The warmth of his body flowed through you; you could have stayed like this forever. A forever you didn’t have. “Morel?” You pulled back and looked up at him.

“Hm?”

“I’ll miss you.”

A large hand cupped your cheek. “I’ll miss you too, Baby.” His thumb affectionately rubbed against your skin.

A wave of desperate tenderness flooded your core, and for a brief moment you felt tears begin to prick your eyes. You fought them away. “You need to promise me you’ll come back.”

A deep roll of laughter rumbled within Morel’s chest as he leaned down to press soft kisses to your mouth and cheeks. “I promise,” he said between kisses, still cradling your face in his hands, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Really?” Your eyes swept over his face, searching for traces of insincerity. They found none; only the warm, broad, honest face of the man whose long absences you’d borne for years. He always came back. With trembling hands, you reached out to stroke along his jawline. There was a very particular kind of warmth about Morel’s face. Perma-tanned from countless years at sea, his face was marked with tiny creases around his eyes and thin crescents at the corners of his mouth; the face of a man who smiled easily and often. Lately, the creases seemed deeper than usual.

“Don’t get sad on me now,” Morel chuckled, turning to kiss your palm. “Or else you’ll make me sad too.”

You began to protest that no, you weren’t sad, but were cut off by Morel picking you up and literally throwing you over his shoulder as he rose from the couch. “Hey!” You halfheartedly swatted at his back. “What the hell?”

“Things were getting a little too melancholy for my liking.” A large, warm hand softly squeezed your thigh. “How about I cheer you up a bit?”

You squealed in lukewarm indignation when Morel carried you into the bedroom and laid you down onto the bed but melted into his touch when he crawled on top of you. Large hands ran over your body, skimming lightly up your sides and eliciting a giggle from you.

“A-ha!” Morel smiled triumphantly as he dipped to kiss your neck. “Success already.”

Surrendering to his infectious mirth, you pulled him closer and grinned into the coarse fabric of his shirt. “Hey,” you wrapped your legs around his waist and gave a gentle squeeze, “if you want to lighten the mood, hurry it up.”

“Someone’s eager.” Morel gave your earlobe a playful nip before drawing back to unbutton his shirt. Far too slowly for your liking. You were about to spur him onward, but Morel clicked his tongue preemptively. “Now, now, Baby, no need to get impatient.” He undid another button. “No need to rush.” Another button.

You bit your lower lip as you watched him reveal his broad, muscled chest. A tingling warmth was begging to pool in the pit of your stomach; your earlier irritation had been replaced by longing, an urgent need to be touched. You desperately needed him to speed things up.

“Slowing down, Old Man?” you teased, hastily removing your clothes and tossing them to the bedroom floor. Reclining on the bed again, you shot him a wicked smirk.

Morel shook his head, shrugging off his shirt with an infuriating slowness that had to have been deliberate. “If you’re trying to goad me, ____, it won’t work.”

You pouted. “Damn it, Morel, we don’t have all night.” Really, you didn’t.

“Still doesn’t mean we have to rush.” Morel was on you again; his fingers running up and down your now-exposed waist. “Besides,” he pressed a deceptively chaste kiss to your mouth before kissing trail down your chest, “the faster we take things, the sooner it will end.” He stopped kissing you right as he reached your navel to smile cheekily up at you. “I’m an old man, as you say. I only have one round in me.”

“Well, better make it a good one.” You groaned and let your head fall back onto the pillows as Morel chuckled and resumed kissing down the length of your body. When he dipped between your legs, you hummed and let your body relax, ready for what was sure to come. When it didn’t, you propped yourself up on your elbows and gave Morel a questioning look. “Problem?”

“Never.” Morel kissed your thigh. “Just savoring the moment.”

“Well, can you savor it a little bit fast-oh!” You collapsed back onto the bed with a groan when you felt his tongue drag along your entrance in one long, hot, exquisite lick. “Oh…”

You’d been with Morel for years and yet you were continually surprised by just how good he was with his tongue. The way he was licking, no, devouring you now, made heat and tension coil in the pit of your stomach. A whimper of frustrated pleasure escaped your throat when his tongue skated over the sensitive nerve endings that demanded his attention; instead of focusing on that one spot where you needed him the most, Morel’s tongue lapped at your entrance and slipped inside.

You whined, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair in hopes of redirecting him. Your need was white-hot now, the teasing jolts of pleasure that were coursing through your lower half were on the verge of being painful. As to be expected, Morel ignored your demands, opting instead to explore your entrance with languid enthusiasm.

“Come on, Morel,” you insisted, squeezing your eyes shut and feeling your cheeks burn when you heard the obscenely loud slurp of him withdrawing his tongue. This time he listened and focused his attention right where you needed him to; his tongue swirled over the bundle of nerves in tight little circles while he slipped two thick fingers inside of you. Your vision blurred.

“Right there,” you gasped out, bucking your hips in an effort to get more of that delicious direct stimulation.

Morel obliged, eager to draw more of those lewd noises from you. His fingers curled within you, stroking that one spot of yours that he knew so well. When he crooked his fingers again and pressed against it, you moaned and began to grind against his face.

It didn’t take long for Morel to draw your orgasm out of you; you came with a choked sob, clenching around his fingers and trembling around him. As you came down from your high Morel withdrew, quickly shedding the rest of his clothing before climbing on top of you and capturing your lips with a searing, open-mouthed kiss. You melted into this touch, not caring that you could taste yourself on him.

Fueled by the desire for even more closeness, you wrapped your legs around Morel’s waist. His painfully hard arousal pressed against your thigh; you shifted, hoping to line your entrance up with his cock.

“Still eager?” Morel’s lips grazed your throat as he pressed you into the mattress. He smiled against your skin when you hummed impatiently, then shifted to run the head of his cock against your entrance. “You want this?”

“Uh-huh!” You dug your fingers into his shoulders in an attempt to spur him onward.

“Hm…” Morel continued to rub his cock against you, letting the head teasingly slip inside then out again. “Since I’ve been nice and gotten you so nicely warmed up…” In an instant he seized your hips, rolling onto his back and bringing you with him, holding you in place astride his hips. He smiled warmly up at you. “How about you return the favor a little?” Large hands gripped your waist and lifted you onto his cock.

A series of sighs escaped your lips as you sank down onto him.

Morel’s hands caressed your hips and thighs as you rode him, occasionally giving your ass a squeeze whenever you clenched around his cock. His eyes swept lovingly over your body, content to watch you as you took your pleasure from him.

“That’s it.” He ran his hands up your sides. “Just like that.”

You tightened around him again and his hips jerked upwards. “Gods, ____,” he groaned, taking your hands in his so you could brace yourself against them, “do you want to finish me off so soon?”

You absolutely did. The sight of Morel’s blown pupils and the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead was enough of an incentive to keep going, to make him lose himself inside of you. You tightened your grip on his hands as you continued to ride him, lifting your hips and sinking back down onto him in an increasingly erratic rhythm.

Your breaths were ragged, coming in hoarse pants as your vision tunneled. For a moment there was nothing else: only Morel and the ever-increasing heat between your legs.

When Morel disentangled one hand from yours and began to stroke you, you cried out; it was all you could take. Waves of heat and pressure crashed into you as you trembled around him for the second time that evening.

It was the feeling of your body spasming around him that finally broke Morel’s self-control. He grunted through tightly-clenched teeth and slammed up into you hard enough to make you close your eyes and arch back almost painfully. He thrust into you a few more times before reaching his own orgasm, finishing inside you with a grunt.

With a satisfied sigh, Morel squeezed your hand and gently tugged you towards him, pulling you down onto his chest. Feeling the warmth of his chest and the soothing touch of his fingers running over your back was enough to send you into a sleepy haze. There was just something so comforting about being near him like this… you want to stay that way forever.

“Morel,” you mumbled sleepily into his chest as your eyelids grew still heavier.

“Hm?”

“Don’t be gone for long this time.”

“I’ll try.”

You didn’t like the noncommittal answer but accepted it all the same. What choice did you have? Besides, no matter how long he’d be away for, you’d wait for him. Always.

#morel mackernasey #smuttastic #commission

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kaisooficrec · 4 years ago

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jfdjsf we’re so sorry to everyone who wanted this list last year before starting school 😭😭(and yall almost finished omg) but on the bright side, you’ll have so many nice fics to read now in summer 😎

Best/Childhood Friends to Lovers:

Internet is for Porn - Jongin is convinced that the only booty that can compete with his bestfriend’s legendary arse is the camboy D.O’s. One of my favourite works by indogomini and KaiSoo fics in general. Pure HILARIOUS lightly angsty smut. The real definition of a fun read.

A Different Morning - thisismylastlie’s latest EXO fic. Jongin’s been (whipped) Kyungsoo’s vlogger bestfriend since forever, but one video changes their life once and for all. I really love slice of life? Especially with a big pinch of pining and humor.

Through The Midnight Streets - Jongin grows up with the Dos after a tragic event and gets to befriend the coldest of them all, Kyungsoo. Located in Paris, unrequited!SuKai, ballerino!Jongin, chaebol (straight, lol)!Kyungsoo, fear of homophobia, sloW BURN and so much pure art. Threeshots on LJ are the real lucky charm.

Bite Me - Hybrid!AU. In a world where hyprids are privileged, human!Kyungsoo suffers from being in love with his dog hybrid bestfriend. It gets even worse when he discovers that Jongin had a mate all this time.

Sticky Fingers - Smut, Humor. Kaleidohscope’s pornstar!Jongin asking his bestfriend to help him wax. Their dynamics here : 10/10 dammit.

when it rains - Oneshot, fluff, Mute!Kyungsoo. Jongin refuses to unfriend his precious hyung, and refuses the title of bestfriend.

Spider Webs - Oneshot, nonau. Kind of dark? EXO Kai and Jongin are two opposites, with the latter being a unsufferable brat who only accepts the company of Kyungsoo, his poor prey. Or so they thought.

Of late night kisses - Nonau, based on KaiSoo’s date on Valentine’s (hehe). Kyungsoo and Jongin rebelliously take a break on Valentine’s Day from rehearsal to go to the movies as friends, but come back as a little more.

Down the Chimney, Into my Heart - Oneshot, Fluff, Christmas!AU. For Kyungsoo, Christmas holds painful memories. Smitten Jongin decides to do something (stupidly cute) about it.

Mine Eyes are Made the Fools - PWP but with somewhat angsty emotional charge. Or roommates hella straightforward Jongin and scared-of-heartbreak Kyungsoo going at it.

Heart on Your Sleeve - Jongin decides to confess to his two years crush/friend on Valentine’s Day while they’re on a trip to Hong Kong. Annoying ChanBaek, newly tattooed!Kyungsoo and nerves make his mission way harder than it should be. Kyungsoo’s vibe here *wolf whistles* .

(First time?) Meeting - (kind of)PWP. Kyungsoo and Jongin are bestfriends who secretely text two hot boys. Everything changes when they decide to meet them.

Hold Down my Shaking Body - Tickling!kink. A really hot (focus on hot) oneshot/PWP. I love fics that include that spark when one of them realizes they like the other and damn, freaky times.

I Love You, Just Like This - Besties as kids, Soo falls for Jongin as they get older but Jongin’s hella popular & Soo’s insecure about his own looks.

Kyungsoo ... Give me your hand! by Saritababo - a nice 36k angsty friends to lovers where jongin has a crush on Kyungsoo and Kyungsoo is teasing him.

City Lights by Life_not_knife - a confession fic where best friends kaisoo get together and jongin cant believe it, it also has smut.

愛戀 : deeply attached - 10k of childhood friends to lovers kaisoo, quite lovely fic. basically they are head over heels for each other.

feels good to be yours - Baker!Kyungsoo and dance instructor!Jongin are best friends, but who kiss a lot. None of their dates work and they take a while to figure out why.

(Best)Friends, but one dates and the other tolerates/realizes their feelings :

If My Yesterday is a Disgrace - Fourshot, Angst, kind of Surrealism, Slice of Life. a gem by wandering-heart from our kfr project *u* they’re best friends, but jongin is hurt because he can never be more than friend and kyungsoo was supposed to marry his girlfriend. NOW allow me to not give any details about the plot because everything is so well thought and emotional and I’d rather leave you the opportunity to discover (and love) this masterpiece by yourself. A new personal favourite.

You are my heart - Chaptered, Angst, OT9 and broken!KaiBaek. At the age of fifteen, Kyungsoo and Jongin promised to marry each other if they’re alone by their thitieth birthday. At the age of twenty nine and thirty, Jongin goes through so much pain and heartbreak while Kyungsoo still pines silently. This teeters on tragic but have faith in the KaiSoo.

Always Have, Always Will - Twoshot. When Jongin looses to Junmyeon the opportunity to take sous-chef!Kyungsoo on a friendly date, he realizes that he might have wanted more all that time.

The Friend Zone - Oneshot, comedy, side!HunHan. Kyungsoo has been sent to the Friend Zone times and times again. He is unaware that his only bestfriend is exactly in the same position as him.

In plain sight - Oneshot, broken!ChenSoo. Jongin’s tired of seeing his bestfriend sad and heartbroken. All he wants from him is to move on. With him.

What If - Oneshot, based on the song “What If”. On the day he plans on confessing, Kyungsoo learns that Jongin is dating Soojung. Uhm, it does have a happy ending but not the one you’re expecting. :,(

Brighter - Angst, nonau. Kyungsoo learns about JenKai and Jongin reminds him that he always comes first.

complications; and how they arise - Twoshot, light angst, temporary ChanSoo. Basically Jongin and Kyungsoo postponing their confessions and drifting apart because of insecurities. Lovely.

Good Intentions - Chaptered, slightly OT12. Kyungsoo is tired of his bestfriend constantly bringing new people to their house and comes up with an idea to quench Jongin’s (their) thirst. Kyungsoo’s a freaking music teacher and prepares a Christmas recital with lil kids and I love it.

nothing scares you about me and you - well well if this isn’t another gem from verseau >:) roommates kaisoo are just friends, best friends, but omega jongin is so oblivious and keeps hooking up with other alphas even though he loves kyungsoo's scent and kyungsoo also has his fair share of omegas which riles jongin to no end, yet he won't admit they're made for each other.

look - "he never thought he'd see that shine again but towards another person." the first ship is kaisoo, then jenkai happens, and then kaisoo again. basically kyungsoo is jealous of jongin being in a relationship.

Ain’t nice - Jongin definitely has a type. This has a nice plot twist, it’s otherwise angsty, and I wouldn’t say that it matches 100% the request but I said I should add it. It’s quite interesting.

The Woes Of The Heart - wedding planner au. kyungsoo loves jongin who is going to marry a girl and kyungsoo is the one that plans their wedding and he pours his feelings in his diary. inarichi snapped with this truly

A Heart at Peace - in this house we worship strange seas! jongin is junmyeon’s younger brother and has always been close to kyungsoo and kyungsoo has always a special place in his heart. but now, they’re adults, jongin feels something that kyungsoo can’t reciprocate because he dates women

Older (best)friends-to-lovers : March14, April14, 2016, 2017

Happy reading! - KFR Admins

#kaisoo #kadi #dika #exo #fic request #r:friends to lovers #j #admin cookie

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mimik-u · 4 years ago

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Flower Child (Chapter 13): Blue (III)

Goodness, I'm nearly a year and a half late, but here we are—Chapter 13 of "Flower Child." First of all, I want to give my sincerest apologies for the delay... I mentioned this at the start of my fic "Facets," but the simplest and truest story is that my muse for writing Steven Universe and, well, writing in general petered out for a long time and has only recently returned. But, because it has recently returned, I wanted to begin to make good on a promise I made to you guys so many months ago—that one day, I would finish this story. So let's do this. <3 I'm ready now.

(1) I read through the previous twelve chapters, lmao, and half-loved and half-hated my writing, but the point of that exercise, beyond getting acquainted with the plot of "FC" again, was to also do some quick grammar and flow revisions, so a few of the previous chapters should read just a little better than maybe they had before.

(2) Fun fact! Chapter 13 is pretty interesting because some portions of it were actually written over a year ago; it was an incredible challenge for me to work with what I had as a 2019 writer versus what I've learned as a 2020 writer.

(4) Someone asked on Tumblr a long time ago if there was a playlist I worked with in writing this story...

(5) And finally, and most importantly, this chapter is incredibly heavy, dealing with themes of suicidal ideation and extreme depression.

Please be cautious while reading if these are topics that are triggering to you!

The shiny, black town car eased to a stop at the pull-through entrance of the hospital, drawing the gazes of passerby on the sidewalk. An older lady in a wheelchair, a group of what appeared to be college kids in scrubs, a scraggly-looking patient who’d obviously escaped the confines of his room to light a cigarette—they all stopped and stared as the back door of the overtly fancy car was pried open from the inside out, as a metal cane preceded a woman who quite looked like she needed it.

Blue Diamond unfolded into the light of day, trembling.

Because it was hard.

It was so hard.

To be here.

(To be.)

She wanted to collapse where she stood, dissemble and dissolve away one piece of herself at a time; she leaned heavily on the head of her cane and lit upon the sole pair of eyes that weren’t looking at her—or, really, her Lincoln. The man named Greg Universe stood next to the automatic doors with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, staring at the ground, all but boring a hole into it. When the sliding doors opened and closed at his backside, they appeared to be ripping into him, piece by miserable piece.

“I’ll call when I’m ready,” Blue murmured to her valet before shutting the door and slowly hobbling over to Greg.

Clank.

The onlookers glanced away as the town car drove off, resumed their lives and cared not for yet another broken person in their midst. The hospital was full of them as it was. Perhaps they were even broken themselves—very probably they were.

Blue Diamond did not care to know.

Clank.

I’m betraying her, she thought, she was always thinking. I’m leaving her behind. I’m betraying her. I’m—

Clank.

The clanking did the trick, catching Greg’s attention and only half-holding it. He lifted his head slowly and mustered a smile that must have been agony. It wobbled on his lips and very nearly disappeared in his bushy beard. It pulled at him—all over. He looked like a Picasso gone wrong, an abstraction of a man stretched too far.

“Hey, just in time.” He gave a shaky little laugh that rather sounded like a sob and then somehow kept talking, his entire physiognomy alive with his nerves. “Steven’s so excited to see you again. He hasn’t stopped talking about ya since this morning, which is kinda nuts because he was so tired yesterday, but this is a good thing, and so we should really go up and see him now because—”

She cut across him; it was a quiet act, a merciful one. “Greg.”

It was just his name, a singular syllable, a sound, but even that was enough.

Mr. Universe’s face fell into geometric disarray.

“No use hiding it, huh?” He half-wept, half-laughed again, scrubbing a hand over his face and bringing up his shirt to soak up what was left.

“No,” Blue Diamond whispered, her hands tightening on the head of her cane. “It’s scrawled all over you, I’m afraid.”

“Figures,” he said hoarsely. “I’m a mess.”

“No more than I am.” She pried one of her hands away from the other and gestured loosely at her entire body with a wry smile. “If you’re a mess, then I am a dereliction.”

It wasn’t a contest; it was the truth.

Four years of grieving had wasted her.

Blue Diamond was skeletal.

Broken.

Greg took this in and considered; his smile that really wasn’t a smile resolved itself into a quiet, aching sort of frown. It tugged his face downwards; it tugged at the hollows of her chest. She’d seen him only a little over a week ago, and yet today, he looked as though he’d aged a hundred years in the span of eight days. There were bags under his eyes and sunken dunes in his cheeks.

There was a little boy in a hospital bed.

There was a disease.

It was killing them both.

“How do I do this?” He asked the ground. “How did you—” But he stopped short; his breath hitched.

It was a highly personal question after all.

It was no short wonder that Blue’s cane didn’t snap beneath her grip.

“How did I do it?” She returned softly all the same. The slight breeze stirred the strands of hair poking out of her silvery braid.

Greg nodded mutely, the desperation in his face tangible. She could reach out if she wanted and touch his hurt, the very heart of it, and all of its dimensions. (She didn’t want to.)

“To be entirely truthful,” she murmured, “I’m not sure that I ever did.”

ii.

It was nearly one o’clock in the afternoon, and it was also 2:38AM, the very moment when a police officer had the audacity to come to their door and tell two mothers that their daughter was dead, gone, and never coming back. His expression was a gathering bruise, and his words were like bullets, striking right between the ribs.

Blue Diamond couldn’t breathe.

In the darkness, she sat on the edge of Pink’s bed and dragged every mouthful of air inwards like it was painful; her chest heaved with the awfulness of it, the punctured horror of leaking lungs.

Her child was dead.

Oh, God.

Her child was gone.

Why, oh, why, oh, God, my God?

And she was never coming back.

Goddammit.

In the coagulated darkness, Blue clutched her daughter’s favorite sweatshirt close to her chest; it was black and ratty, full of holes and little tears. A small alien logo perched on the chest, grinning up at her from depthless eyes.

They used to fight over this particular number.

Constantly.

“You’re a multibillion dollar heiress.” Blue would pinch the bridge of her nose and try not to raise her voice above an acerbic whisper. “Would it inconvenience you to buy some nicer clothes?”

Pink was unsparing in her retorts, wicked and witty, face upturned in a haughtiness to match her mother’s own.

“Would it inconvenience you to get off my ass, Mother? It’s just a sweatshirt.”

“Pink!”

And on and on.

The fabric was cold between Blue’s long fingers, still scented with Pink’s favorite perfume.

They were going to bury her today, mere hours from now.

Last week, they’d been fighting over this shirt.

On and on and never again.

The funeral… mere hours from now… less than three… but how could that also be true when it was only 1:52AM and Pink Diamond was coughing her last, strangled breath on a dirty pavement outside a bar on 9th Avenue?

Blue Diamond hadn’t been there, but she forced the words on the detective’s report to come to life in the theatre of her mind’s eye anyway. By the time the paramedics had arrived, Pink was all but gone; she gasped, and she coughed, and her brown eyes marbled in one final supernova of emotion. They tried to resuscitate her, but the damage was too extensive.

She’d fought back, the officer had said. (He thought it was a consolation to them.)

The proof was caked in her nails and scratched all over her arms, but it’d been three against one.

She was a lion, and they were men; she was a twenty-one year old girl, and they were men.

In the darkness, unraveling, Blue Diamond’s face dripped onto the sweatshirt, onto the alien smiling up at her with a black sliver of a mocking grin. She did not register—she did not care to register—the slow creaking of the door opening inwards.

Amber light strained from the hallway to find and reach and touch her but didn’t quite make it.

Yellow Diamond was a shadowy figure in the doorway.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” she scolded, and yet, she moved into the room anyway—the hypocrite—her sharp heels muffled in the carpet. Stiff and forbidding, she came to stand in front of Blue, arms crossed over her chest, a frown crossed over her face. “It’s not healthy for you, Bl—“

But Blue cut across her. It was not a kind act; it was a precise incision—cold and surgical—three inches long and just as deep. “Our daughter is dead, Yellow.”

The shadowy figure recoiled but did not bite.

Even now, Yellow couldn’t bear to be seen as vulnerable, couldn’t bear to give one damn inch.

“I know that, dammit,” she muttered to the wall. “Dammit—do you not think I know that?”

But Blue had no pity for her, no shred of any emotion left except for the vicious tangle of grief; it tangled in her fingers, which sunk deep into Pink’s shirt, and it tangled in her cold eyes, leaking down her pale face and salting her anemic lips.

“Then act like it,” she hissed.

The exhortation bruised the air.

It demanded a reaction.

On its hands and knees, it begged for a response.

And yet, the shadowy figure said nothing. She didn't move her clenched fists.

She could not face Blue in the eyes.

Coward.

Hypocrite.

(Mourner.)

(Mourning.)

She simply left, staggering out of the room on precariously high heels, and Blue simply stayed, conflating the hours and the days and the minutes.

Later that day, they buried their daughter in a mausoleum, a gazebo—in a cemetery slathered in golden sun.

iii.

Greg explained the details as best as he could on the way up to Steven’s room. It was hard to find him a kidney because his blood type was O negative, which meant that he would only be able to receive a kidney from a Type O donor. And though he’d been on the waiting list for months now, and though he’d recently been moved to the top of the list given his worsening condition, it was still anyone’s guess as to when a kidney would become available.

(“If,” he could barely choke out, “we can even get one at all.”)

After slowly making their way across an expansive skywalk, they finally arrived at a pair of double doors labeled Truman Ward. The sun pierced through the tall glass windows and lit upon Blue’s sunken face, and Greg’s red eyes, and her metallic cane, and his wobbling lips—as though it was doing them a favor by doing so.

Greg reached behind her and pressed a button on the wall, alerting someone on the other side to their arrival.

“Listen”—he ran his hand along the back of his neck as the doors slowly parted open in welcome—“I’m going to go back to the room for a bit and see if I can get some paperwork done. Feel free to stay as long as ya’d like. Visiting hours don’t end ’til eight.”

Blue stared at him.

Every moment—every hour, minute, and second with this child was precious nowadays, and here Greg was, lending her time out of his own.

She felt the gift of what he was offering deeply.

(She could have never found it in herself to be so generous with Pink.)

“Thank you.” She swept a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I… I appreciate you allowing me to visit him.”

But he only shook his head and urged her through the doors with a pinched smile.

“If he’s happy that you’re here,” he shrugged, “then I am, too.”

And with that, he waved a last goodbye, and the doors folded to a close again with her on the other side of them.

Room 11037.

Walking became a monumental task as the clinically white hallway stretched out before her, lengthened by her mind, twisted and contorted into an obstacle she had to surmount.

It should have been just a hall.

Clank.

The memory of Pink burned bright behind her eyelids, stained there permanently by principle but stamped in starkly with assistance from the harsh fluorescents overhead. She was laughing, always laughing, in these flashbulb reminiscences, her freckles coalescing and then expanding across the bridge of her nose like the bellows of an accordion.

Clank.

But it wasn’t just Pink, though it always would be.

Clank.

It was Steven now.

Clank.

A ghost she chased, as opposed to the one who perpetually haunted her (who mercifully, who cruelly stayed.)

Clank.

But he wasn’t a ghost just yet, right? He was still here and still fighting—did that not count for something? Didn't his heartbeat, the very state of its continued existence, teach her to hope?

Clank.

But hope was such an awful word—so empty, brimming with meaningless sensationalism.

Clank.

(Maybe it was the vestiges of her long dead religion, but she wanted to hope anyway.)

Clank.

Hope was such an awful word.

Clank.

Room 11037.

The door was decisively closed.

A tall woman with bicolored eyes leaned against it, her dark lips corkscrewed into a frown.

Blue Diamond vaguely remembered her from the cemetery but couldn’t quite place a name. She could place an expression, though, and was surprised to name the one on this stranger’s face as disdain. Disdain rolled off this mysterious woman in waves, from the resolute clench of her jaw to the iron way that her arms were folded across her chest. It burned in her eyes. It seemed to languish inside of her, seething just under a facade of smooth skin.

She was a monolith of quiet loathing.

Blue squared her rounded shoulders in a manner she thought to be composed; her hands trembled on her cane nonetheless.

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” She asked it quite politely, even as the walls were harsh and white around them. She used to command rooms by the authoritative nature of her voice alone, and now she struggled to keep it together long enough to face a singular woman in front of a singular door.

“It’s not you specifically,” the woman replied, impressively put together, admirably composed. If her electric blue eye was cold, the brown one simply burned. Both were bruised underneath with tired shadows. “It’s what you stand for. It’s about the morals that Diamond Electric doesn’t have.”

“You’re an activist,” Blue surmised quickly, almost flippantly. Activists were challenging DE all of the time, and activists were always losing. Before Pink… she’d largely assumed that these sorts of protesters simply had no logical case. After Pink, she had had much more consuming thoughts on her mind than petty lawsuits against their multibillion dollar company.

“A Crystal Gem,” she corrected tersely, “but that’s not what I want to talk to you about.” Her gaze slid subtly to the doorway behind her, and Blue understood her at once.

“Steven,” she whispered.

The woman nodded.

“Steven,” she agreed, and her voice cracked as she said it, splintering into thousands of little pieces and struggling to regroup. When she swallowed to compose herself, it was almost as though she was swallowing the shards. “He likes you, and I can’t… I won’t begrudge him that.”

In the way that she said it, it was almost like she was convincing herself most of all.

“There is an implicit but there,” Blue parried softly. “You won’t begrudge him that, but.”

Again, the woman nodded, the gesture slow and measured, as though she was working something out in the tiny motion. When her squared chin came up again, her mismatched eyes were bright, intense with quiet pain.

“But don’t hurt him.”

It was a reasonable demand, but the implication behind it stung immediately and anyway.

She inhaled sharply and scrambled to defend herself, to salvage the punctured wound, but the damage was already done. Her voice came out more broken than it did cold.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Maybe not intentionally,” the Crystal Gem said, shaking her head. “Most people never really intend to hurt someone… but it happens. We get caught up in our emotions. We get selfish. We get distant. And then we hurt people.”

It struck Blue Diamond at that very moment that she hadn’t even deigned to ask the woman’s name.

“So, all I’m saying is don’t hurt him.” She unfolded herself from the door and stepped aside. “He likes you.”

iv.

Two days after the first anniversary of Pink Diamond’s death, a doctor shined a light in Blue Diamond’s glassy eyes and waited for a pupillary response. When he received one—an involuntary but nonetheless reactive blink—he unceremoniously clicked off his pen light and straightened up into the unfriendly darkness once more.

In the sparse incandescence bleeding in from the hallway, Yellow Diamond cut a shadowy figure by his side, her usually tidy hair rumpled from all the times her fingers had become ensnared in it that day.

Her tie was loose, and lines had already begun to etch themselves beneath those hawklike eyes of hers.

Soon, they would become permanent fixtures, marked there by time and age and grief.

For now, though, they were only suggestions.

Hints of what was to come.

(So many sleepless nights.)

(How many haunted days?)

“Well?” Though the CEO tried hard to strangle her voice into a whisper, the sharpness of the syllable was still the loudest sound in the room. Subtlety had never quite been this woman’s strong suit; she wielded her words as though they were gavels to proclaim on the heads of all who dared to cross her path.

“Catatonic depression,” the doctor replied, just as succinctly, replacing his pen in the pocket of his lab coat. “The staring, the lack of movement, the loss of appetite, the elective mutism. All textbook symptoms that point to the fact that your wife is still grieving, Mrs. Diamond. Frankly, I’m worried for her health.”

The shadow on his left scowled at this diagnosis, and she fidgeted, and it was apparent by these two idiosyncrasies alone that she was scrounging deep for some incisive rebuttal against the truth that laid like a breathing corpse directly below her.

“Then what, pray tell, do you intend to do about it?” Her voice exceeded its former intentions of quietness. “That’s the problem. Now what’s the solution?”

“Well, I admit her to the hospital and start her on an intravenous Lorazepam treatment. It’s a sedative. It’ll assuage some of her anxiety and relax her muscles to prevent spasming.”

“Yes, and then?”

They were talking about her as though she wasn’t even there.

It was a fair enough assessment.

“And then what, Mrs. Diamond?” The doctor stared at her incredulously, shoving both of his hands in his pockets. “With all due respect, I can treat your wife’s physical symptoms from sunup to sundown, but that’s not touching the heart of what is truly debilitating her. She’s grieving, ma’am, and she needs psychiatric treatment beyond what I can provide as a private doctor and you can provide as her spouse. We discussed this the last time I was here.”

“And the time before that—yes, I know,” Yellow Diamond laughed humorlessly, the sound half-mad in her constricted throat. “Because you stand there, like an imbecile, and tell me that there’s no underlying medical cause to this?!”

She jabbed an accusing hand at Blue Diamond, whose oceanic eyes were wide open and unseeing, silent tears slipping from the corners of them and falling sideways across her face. There was an untouched tray of food on her nightstand. There was a lankness in her unwashed hair. There were pill bottles accumulating like a grotesque collection next to the alarm clock.

And there was an air, an atmosphere, an oppression of silent decay.

The funereality of it was undeniable.

An uncomfortable wooden chair stood next to the bed where Yellow Diamond had been sitting vigil for the past two nights since they had visited the cemetery on the day of the anniversary.

Blue Diamond’s keening sobs had sliced the autumnal air.

Her daughter was dead.

Gone.

Never coming back.

She stared at nothing, it seemed to Yellow and the doctor; she languished in the visions of Pink that seized across her mind with every dripping second of consciousness.

“Depression is an underlying medical cause, Mrs. Diamond.”

The doctor’s voice softened.

Minimally.

For the first time since the house call had begun, his lanky silhouette jerked a little, as though he wanted to place a hand on the CEO’s shoulder, but thought better of it upon seeing something forbidding in the other’s expression.

“And she’s tired, ma’am. You both are.” Look at you, his rust colored eyes seemed to say. You’re both historical wrecks to a long dead ghost. “You can’t take care of her alone… moreover, you shouldn’t have to.”

But the doctor had finally overstepped one prying comment too far, and he must have known it immediately, because he took a step back from the golden eyes glowering at him in the darkness of that dusty bedroom.

Yellow Diamond’s entire face transformed, twisting itself into facets of shattered rage.

She was feral.

(Wounded.)

Apoplectic with fury.

(Grieving, she was inconsolable.)

Dangerous.

Goddammit, she was on fire.

“Do not ever deign to tell me what I can and can’t do when it comes to my wife,” she snarled, all pretense of quietness long gone, devoured in the hurricane of emotion. “Get out! OUT!”

“Mrs. Diamond, please—“

“I SAID OUT! OUT!” She shrieked, harshly shoving his shoulder with the flats of her palms. “GET THE HELL OUT!”

The doctor did not need telling again; he fled the room as the force of Yellow Diamond’s dismissal stoned his back.

Blue blinked slowly as a shaking hand suddenly clasped her arm in the wake of the carnage, the imprint of a steel wedding band carving itself into her flesh.

That hurts, Yellow.

She blinked again, the words swelling on her tongue and dying there unrestfully.

That hurts.

The warnings of Steven’s guardian standing sentinel on top of her frantically beating heart, Blue Diamond turned the knob to Room 11037 and pushed inwards until the door reluctantly gave way to a sight she had forgotten to steel herself for in-between the guilt of moving on and the agonizing action of doing so.

Steven himself.

Dwarfed in a hospital bed.

A mere wisp of the boy who had sat with her on the balcony only three days ago and stuffed his face with little chocolate cakes.

Her prodigious mind working far ahead of her paralyzed body, she frantically tried to recall his text from yesterday, what it had said about his condition, if it had indicated anything about his current state at all. But he had only told her that he had passed out and ended up in the hospital again. The boy had said nothing about the extensive tubing and the wires that ribboned and scissored his entire body in streaming colors. Lines crisscrossed each other and tumbled over and under and around his blankets.

She saw the bottom of an empty catheter bag at the edge of the bed.

And the bruises like angry embers pulsing up his arms.

Somehow, amongst all the other things she was absorbing at precisely the same time, she noticed that next to a vase of elegantly arranged sunflowers, there was an inelegantly arranged tray of hospital food.

Untouched.

He had texted not a word about the yellow pallor of his skin.

He had used exclamation points—exclamation points!—to indicate his excitement.

Blue Diamond could not shake the notion, the very absurd idea, that he had lied to her somehow, had drawn her here under false pretenses.

(This was not the truth. She had estimated at what she was getting herself into and crossed the line into getting herself into it anyway.)

“Hi,” Steven Universe said sheepishly, his cheeks flushing darkly. He was caught, and he knew it. “It’s good to see you again, Blue.”

The seconds dripped between them.

The heart monitor on the wall counted them out.

One…

Blue’s plump lips parted slightly.

Two…

Her hand shivered on the head of her cane until the sound of it rattled the clinically quiet room.

Three…

She couldn’t do this again.

She wouldn’t grieve for another dead child.

One had been too much—one had almost killed her.

Four…

God, and there were still days where she wondered if it still would.

Without thinking, desperate for relief, Blue turned away and braced her free hand on the door, drawing in harsh, ragged breaths that scratched at her beaten lungs, that bled them anew until they were leaking.

Who was she to believe that she wasn’t falling apart at her seams? How delusional was she to hope that a boy with a flower would be the difference between her saving grace and her inevitable dissolution? Was she so naïve to overlook the contours of his illness and think that his determination would be enough to save him from the eternal truth of this world? Was she so weak?

Death didn't discriminate between the old and the young, the sinner and the saint.

Pink Diamond was only twenty-one years old.

Steven Universe was a child.

“Blue!” Steven pleaded. “Wait, please don’t go. I—”

“I cannot look at you, Steven Universe," she cut across him, her voice low and fractured. Hot tears stood in her eyes, suddenly blurring her hand against the smooth door. “I’m sorry, but I cannot bear to see…”

“Can’t bear to see that I’m dying?”

He didn’t just refuse to mince the word; he stabbed it into her back so remorselessly that she gasped sharply. She glanced down at her chest and half-expected to see it lodged there, poking out, her beating heart speared on its tip.

“People can skirt around the word all they want,” Steven laughed bitterly, “but there’s no other word for it… without a kidney, I’m gonna die soon, Blue Diamond. I’m dying right now. I think I’ve been dying all this time. And everyone… all they wanna do… is look away from me. Pearl, Garnet, my dad…”

He sniffed.

“They keep looking away, and I’m so tired of it… I-I’m exhausted.”

The door felt cold against her palm.

Icy.

On the balcony, two days ago, she accused Yellow Diamond of shoving their daughter away in a drawer with the rest of her useless items.

In an arctic hospital room, Blue Diamond was ready to consign a boy to the same grave her daughter was buried in…

… but dead children couldn’t talk.

Dead children couldn’t be tired.

They were simply dead.

“So, please, Blue Diamond… please don’t look away.”

The seconds dripped between them.

The heart monitor on the wall counted them out.

One…

Her eyes were wide with the horror of everything, of it all, the senselessness, the depravity, the nihilistic revolutions of this awful, uncaring world.

“I had a daughter once,” she whispered to the door. “Her name was Pink Diamond, and she was… she is… my everything. She had a smile wider than this planet could ever hope to contain… and she very much liked to laugh.”

She had never talked about Pink to anyone other than Yellow before.

Even evoking her name felt like blasphemy.

Two…

A second passed, and no lightning fell from the sky to strike her dead; she supposed her own self-flagellation was the punishment and the eternal damnation alike.

“I looked away. Yellow and I both did. She wanted more from life, and we wanted to contain her life into… into a little box that could fit on the shelf with all our other trophies. She was our accomplishment, you see, our legacy.”

Three…

Blue Diamond’s hand fell away from the door, so she could bring it up to her mouth in a futile attempt to dam the sobs that racked her shoulders.

Four…

“We looked away. The night that she… she—” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word aloud. She wasn’t brave like Steven. “We thought she was in her room, and I didn’t tell her that I loved her that night because we had argued… I thought I’d get the chance the next day or the day after that because we argued all the time. It was normal for us.”

On and on and never again.

When was the last time Blue Diamond had said those three words to her daughter?

These past four years, she had scoured her brain for the answer, but the answer was as elusive as the phrase was from her mouth.

For the simple truth of the matter was that she hadn’t said it very often.

In all her vast intellect, she had always assumed that it was assumed.

Implied.

Understood.

You’ll never let me grow up, will you?

I love you, she could have said.

You’ll never let me grow up, will you?

I didn’t want you to, she would have replied then. I wanted you to collect dust with all the rest of our awards and certificates. I wanted you safe, where I could see you. I wanted to quantify the entirety of your life and itemize the particulars. I wanted you to always be mine.

I love you.

I looked away.

An oxymoron.

A tragedy.

Five…

“So if I look at you, Steven Universe,” she murmured, screwing her eyes closed tightly against the pain, “really look at you, then I have to face that truth again—that I loved someone once… and I looked away… and now she’s… gone.”

And that was the immutable truth of the matter, the conclusion she circled around to no matter how many times the Earth continued to revolve away from the day since Pink Diamond had last existed on this world.

Four thousand revolutions later, and this would still be what it came down to in the end.

Her daughter’s blood was on her hands, staining them crimson, veining her lifelines with the guilt and the awfulness and the unbearable, crucifying shame.

And her daughter’s blood cried out, You’ll never let me grow up, will you?

And every time she so much as looked at her own palms, that was the only echo she saw written across their hollows.

Those last words.

Unanswered.

Unfinished.

Undoing and undone.

Six…

“But… I’m not gone yet,” Steven argued softly. His voice fought to be heard over all the machinery keeping him alive. “I’m here.”

He must have moved because blankets shifted somewhere behind her.

Dead children didn’t move.

Dead children weren’t here.

They were simply—

Seven…

Eight…

Nine…

Ten…

Do it, she commanded herself.

Look at him.

But Blue Diamond was frozen, and she was statuesque; she was a calcification barely anchored on the foundation of her cane. One false move and she would crumble entirely.

The safest bet on her own survival was to limp away and dare not look behind her lest she turn to salt and dust.

Someone else could clean up the carnage.

That woman who stood at the door—she’d do it—Greg Universe and the boy’s other guardians, too.

Don’t hurt him, that same woman had also said. He likes you.

Eleven…

Twelve…

Thirteen...

vi.

It was wash day.

For nearly a year and half after Pink Diamond died, Yellow would force Blue out of bed every few days for a bath or a shower—usually a shower because it was becoming increasingly hard for the CEO to lift her wife in and out of the tub.

Today was a tub sort of occasion, though.

Date night with the Diamonds.

The presence of death was always with them, though, an intrusive third wheel.

With a slight groan, Yellow lowered herself into the warm water behind Blue, steam rising around their naked skin like curling smoke. Once upon a time, this used to be a favorite pastime of theirs, a chance to reacquaint themselves with each other and their bodies… but now the gesture was simply hygienic in purpose, asexual and quiet.

It was always quiet in the Diamonds’ penthouse suite these days.

Silent.

“Is it too hot?” Yellow asked, her voice as gentle as she could wrangle it. Somehow, at the same time, it was still edged with the trappings of harshness. “I can add some cold water?"

She waited briefly for a reply that would never come.

Blue stared limply at her knees, pulled up awkwardly as they were to her chest. Her sensitive skin had already reddened in a couple of places where it was touching the water. There were pink fingerprints wrapped around her armpits where she’d been handled into the tub.

“I think it’s too hot. You’re getting a rash.” A well-manicured hand flashed out from behind her ear and knobbed the far left tap. There was a quick murmur and then the steady hiss of cold water.

“There,” she humphed satisfactorily. “This’ll feel better.”

The running stream answered its assent.

Blue Diamond did not say a word.

She hadn’t in days now, maybe even weeks; time was irrelevant to her, and the words would not come.

There was only a dullness in her head, numb and numbing, like an icy compress coiled tightly around her thoughts.

Yellow didn’t think so, but this was better than the alternative; this was the far superior solution to the problem, the pain, and the pervasiveness of the ghost who was their daughter Pink Diamond.

Because when the analgesic of her own catatonia faded, and some of the feeling tried to seep through, her chest would unfailingly tighten, a vice squeezing hard upon her weary heart.

She couldn’t breathe.

Her child was dead.

“I…”

The sound came from behind her, guttural and choked, as though the speaker was fighting hard against the noise and losing the war.

“I’m so tired, Blue.”

It was an admission, and it was a copout.

Both of them knew that Blue Diamond wasn’t registering a single word.

She heard them—yes, this was true.

But they came to her—they landed softly—like distant echoes; she did not feel the pain of them, the visceral agony; at the present moment, she did not even feel her own pain, the grief and the scalding water and the grief.

Because it was always the grief she was trying to repress.

Everything else was just ancillary.

“You don’t know, goddammit, you can’t know, how exhausted I am.” Yellow Diamond’s voice shattered in the tub.

And her entire body hitched.

As though to keep that from breaking, too.

“You exhaust me, Blue Diamond. You exhaust me every single day. And you don’t even know it, goddammit. Who are you? What the hell have you become?”

The question was delivered to her backside, where it slipped down her tall, curving spine and into the water, splashing there with the delivery of the tap. With a violence that was almost cruel, Yellow reached from behind her again and flung it back into an off position.

There was quietness then.

It was so still, that it was disquiet.

It was always quiet in the Diamonds’ penthouse suite these days.

Silent.

Blue continued to stare blankly at her knees.

There were red patches on her skin.

Her child was dead.

After a moment’s hesitation, her breath heavy on the back of Blue’s long, slender neck, Yellow Diamond gathered her silvery hair gently in one hand and grabbed the comb on the side of the tub with another.

She was careful as she maneuvered its teeth through damp, lank strands.

She always was.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Blue.”

That was what Blue Diamond’s note would say merely a few months later.

I’m sorry and I’m sorry and I’m sorry.

Love always, Blue.

But that was the crucial thing, wasn’t it?

Sorry was not enough; love was not enough.

Because if love had been enough, Pink Diamond would still be alive.

vii.

In a hospital room pierced through with golden sun, Blue Diamond turned around and faced the light of day, her heavy braid swinging along with the slow, deliberate motion.

She wasn’t looking away, Steven Universe.

She was staring straight at him—at his sunken face and his tubing and at the catheter bag and at the sunflowers.

The boy was dying, but he was not yet dead.

It wasn’t much.

At the very least, though, it was something.

He was not gone, even if he was going.

He was here.

In this moment, in this very ephemeral second.

The heart monitor on the wall attested to that; it counted his heartbeats; it pleaded with her to have hope.

(Hope was such an awful word.)

“Those are beautiful flowers,” she whispered. Her cane clinked against the tiled floor as she carefully drew closer to observe them better.

Their petals were tall and spiky, assaulting the air with attentiveness and regal magnitude.

They vaguely reminded her of Yellow.

With a light finger, she tried to prop up one that was beginning to droop beneath the weight of all its brethren, but the moment she withdrew her touch, it fell again, sighing listlessly.

Poor thing.

“But not quite as pretty as that hibiscus you bequeathed me.”

Steven’s eyes, edged with the trace remnant of his tears, were wide and dark, full of velvet and silvery stars.

“You don’t still have it, do you?” He asked, incredulous and rather pleased.

He played a little with his hands on top of his blankets.

He tried to tamp down his hope for an affirmative with an unconvincing casualness.

Blue Diamond’s smile bruised her lips.

“I placed it on my nightstand, sweet boy, so I could look at it everyday.”

It took a second, but the irony of that word choice was not lost on either of them.

viii.

Yellow Diamond placed the failed suicide note on her nightstand for Blue to see and know that she saw. They didn’t talk about it afterwards.

How could they?

What was there to say?

It remained there for a few days afterwards, shriveled and guilty-looking next to the alarm clock; every time she opened her eyes, she would see it and feel its quiet condemnation. She would close her eyes against its glare and wait for sleep or numbness one to wrestle her into the dark.

One day, she woke up, and the paper was gone again.

The realization drew a frown across her wrinkled face.

When she thought about getting up to search for it, and mustered the appropriate will to get out of bed, apparently, many days had passed in the interim.

A month.

She only recognized this upon surveying her bathroom on her way to the toilet; she couldn't find her shaving razor anywhere.

One night—the day, the month, the year undetermined in the abscessed haze of her mind—a dull ache throbbed through Blue’s hip, growing in intensity and sharpness with each passing second that she laid on the wounded area.

There was a part of her, not entirely inconsequential, that invited the pain. For after all, suffering was the only victory the woman had left in the entire world; she wrestled with it nightly, and she embraced it. She made it her new lover and exchanged an oath that only death would do them part. She didn’t shoot herself, or cut herself, or swallow a handful of pills that would surely do the trick.

She laid on her bad hip and convinced herself that she deserved it.

But that night—whatever night that it was—the agony was unbearable, pulling at her all over.

With a groan that wasn’t voluntary, Blue wrested herself into some semblance of a sitting position and looked for her phone so that she could call Livia for an ice pack, but it wasn’t on the bedside table as it usually was… and since it wasn’t in its usual position, she had no clue where she had last left it.

If she wanted relief, she would have to brave the kitchen herself.

She wanted relief, and the guilt of it half-immobilized her.

So she sat there for a couple more minutes still and endured the stabbing ache before finally coaxing herself upwards into the dark night of the bedroom.

Assuming her cane in one hand, Blue crept silently towards the door and out of it, where the hallway stretched out before her like a cavernous tunnel, all the lights extinguished.

Even the telltale glow of lamp warmth that usually emitted from the study across the hall was gone out, which meant that Yellow had likely succumbed to sleep on the couch within.

A twinge of something bothered Blue’s sternum at the thought.

She limped forward anyway and all the same, lifting her cane off the floor to keep from making noise; the wall was her guide in its stead, the pads of her long fingers moving along its smooth planes until she reached the end of the archway, where she immediately intuited that she wasn’t alone.

In the moonlight that wept into the living room through the tall windowpanes, Yellow Diamond was a stark figure sitting on the edge of the couch, leached of all her color. Her blonde hair, her silky pajamas, the leathery musculature of her corded neck—all of it was leveled by blinding whiteness.

Illuminated.

Vulnerable.

Exposed.

When her wife swallowed, she could see every line in her powerful jaw working through the peristaltic motion.

In the shadowed hallway, Blue Diamond stood still, even though the sharp pain in her hip demanded attention.

For this moment, this night, this moonlit haunting did not belong to her—even though most of them usually did.

She understood, somewhere in the mire of her own head, that to disturb this scene would be sacrilege. So she watched, and she waited.

Yellow Diamond was holding something between her sharp, angular hands.

With a jolt, she realized that it was Spinel, a stuffed pink cat who had been Pink’s favorite companion once upon a time. Her left ear was still stained from the tea Yellow had once accidentally dripped on it during a princess tea party.

Washed it though they had—several times over—the spot was stubborn; Spinel had been permanently marked.

“S’okay, Momma,” Pink had only said, grinning up at them both from gapped teeth. She had hugged the toy to her chest. The affected ear brushed against the side of her freckled neck. “That just means she’s one of a kind."

Yellow’s fingers were wrapped around the cat’s plush stomach tenderly; she stared at it from depthless, ancient eyes.

It struck Blue Diamond—then and there—that she wanted something more from this vignette; she wanted Yellow to say something. Selfishly, she desired a confirmation for what she had already so trenchantly inferred.

She wanted, she desired, she longed, she needed to know that her wife was broken, too.

It was a horrible hunger, an itch that felt terrible to scratch.

But Blue Diamond was voracious.

Sometimes, maybe even oftentimes, she could be cruel.

After a long while, though, Yellow Diamond only placed the cat down on the coffee table and stared out into the irradiated night with her hands templed below her sharp chin, lost in silent thought.

She looked older than she ever had in all of their collected years together.

She was only fifty-four.

ix.

They talked—for a long while—as the sun slipped away from the sky, sunset coming in fragments through the slats in the window blinds.

Blue Diamond held Steven’s hand, the one that didn’t have so many IVs in it, and rubbed smooth circles against his wrist.

“Pearl does that, too,” he smiled at her softly through hooded eyes when she began. “It’s nice.”

They talked about everything, and they talked about nothing.

He told her about his favorite show, which seemed to be about morose breakfast items from what she could vaguely surmise, and he talked to her, very quietly, about his disease.

It was rapidly progressing, far more quickly than his nephrologist had anticipated.

“Those chocolate cakes we shared on your balcony,” he admitted with the air of a child waiting to be scolded, “I may have accidentally puked them up in your toilet. Sorry..."

“It’s of no consequence,” she returned with a small, sad smile.

And this was very well true.

She wasn’t the one who had to clean it after all.

They talked about everything, and they talked about nothing.

Blue told him about the sunrise yesterday, how all the colors had seeped together in a swirl of delicious color, and she talked to him, very quietly, about Pink.

“In the best of possible ways,” she mumbled, the sound caught in the column of her throat, “you remind me of her sometimes. She smiled at everything, even when there wasn’t exactly something to be smiled about.”

“That’s a very pretty way to put it.” Steven wriggled a thumb from beneath her palm to stay it against the side of her hand.

“Yes,” she nodded gently, “I suppose so.”

When it was time for her to leave—a team of nurses had come in to administer Steven’s evening medicines and check his vitals—she pressed a kiss against his forehead.

Very light and very soft.

“You didn’t look away,” he whispered against her cheek as she withdrew. His breath was sickly sweet with disease. “Thank you, Blue.”

She froze, meeting his eyes.

There was hesitancy, and there was consuming grief.

The scribble of guilt.

Scrawled all over her face.

“I wanted to, though,” she breathed. “If we're being technical... if we're being fair... I think the impulse counts against me.”

“But you didn’t.”

Steven’s chapped lips tilted into the beginnings of a smile.

“And that’s what matters, right?”

She brushed a stray curl off of his clammy forehead and thought about Pink and Yellow and all the things she did and didn’t do.

She loved them.

She looked away.

“Yes,” she told Steven Universe.

Yes.

Alone, Blue Diamond slowly crossed the skywalk, her silvery hair crowned in all the colors of the sunset, a phone pressed against her ear.

Her cane struck the tiled floor with each shuffled step forward.

Clank.

The dial tone droned rhythmically—bzzt and bzzt and bzzt.

Clank.

She felt her heart work its way up her throat, clambering up its fleshy rungs. The immensity of what she was doing transformed her nervous system into a network of beating, pulsing neuroses.

She was ready for this, and she was not.

She could do this; she half-hoped that she wouldn't receive an answer.

Clank.

And then—

“Blue?” Yellow Diamond’s low voice threw its instinctive panic across the line. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Because this was new.

And yet, achingly familiar.

So many years of having not sought Yellow out—all those weeks, days, and months—were well-established patterns that were not easily overturned and undone.

All those collective hurts—hundreds of them, thousands.

Four years of misery sat between them like four hundred thousand miles.

Blue Diamond swallowed thickly, stopping dead in her tracks as the spillage of people continued to swarm all around her like a package freed of its contents: doctors and patients and sundry other visitors. She was the eye of their storm, and yet, she was just another broken person in the midst of so many other broken people. She was separate from them, and yet, she was their intimate kin. The contradiction seemed untenable, unworkable like all the rest.

Her fingers tightened on the head of her cane.

“I’m… I’m fine, Yellow,” she began. “Please don’t worry. I just had to… I wanted to tell you something. Are you busy?”

On the other end of the line, somewhere in a giant, yellow skyscraper at the edge of Empire City, there was the sharp intake of breath.

And the hesitant beginnings of a fearful reply.

It was a start, though.

And that was what mattered, right?

Yes, Blue Diamond thought to herself.

Yes.

#bellow diamond #blue diamond #yellow diamond #steven universe #garnet #greg universe #s: steven universe #mimik-u #flower child #holy shit - i can't believe i wrote this

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