#i wish i could beam this into the head of one specific person i used to know

[dadsbongos]

my wife is cool, understanding, and goes with the flow

5.7 k words / warnings - fem reader (+referred to as mother/wife), chilchuck's emotional turmoil (he's so in love and so incapable of verbalizing it)

summary - general strings of yours and chilchuck's marriage. good to bad to making up.

~~~

“You know,” you whisper, “If you ignore how nightmarish they were to raise, then they’re kinda perfect kids.”

Chilchuck snorts, letting you hang off his arm as you stand in the doorway to your living room.

Meijack and Flertom are strewn across the couch in opposite directions, Flertom’s feet dangling off an armrest and Meijack’s in her sister’s face. Thankfully, Flertom is not awake to notice the violation of personal space. Puckpatti is curled on the floor before the couch, long auburn hair flayed out and draped over her arms, which she uses as a makeshift pillow.

The front door is wide open, gentle pittering rain having lulled the girls to sleep. Puckpatti had been the one to suggest a ‘slumber party’ in the common space as it rained, even likening the cool air and atmospheric petrichor to camping to incite Meijack. As far as you know, however, none of the girls have been camping, so you’re mystified how that reasoning actually worked.

“Mei and Fler are so big now,” he muses, “Mei thinks she’s ready for the adult world now.”

“As if,” you lay your cheek on his shoulder, silently wishing he’d take the opportunity to kiss your temple. He does not, “We were barely ready when we had them. How’s a nine-year-old prepared for that?”

“That’s what I’m asking.”

Meijack, as if sensing her parents’ lighthearted jabs, rolls over with a grumble and hum, flinging a foot into Flertom’s nose. The younger twin’s face wrinkles in protest, head jerking in the opposite direction -- you and Chilchuck freeze, anticipating a shrill cry, until Flertom relaxes again. The sigh of relief is short, though.

Abruptly, Chilchuck goes rigid, jolting you off him, “Why is Patti on the floor? Like a dog?”

“How am I supposed to know what goes on in that kid’s brain?”

Chilchuck shakes his head and steps over the young girl to shut your front door. Squeaky hinges pull a whine from Patti herself, drowsily rubbing her eyes and calling, “Papa, don’t shut it!”

“What? You want a troll to get in?” he asks sarcastically.

“No,” Puckpatti answers in earnest.

“That’s why Papa wants the door shut,” you kneel by your youngest daughter, brushing back her bangs just to watch her eyebrows scrunch cutely, “So no nasty trolls can get inside…” then you remember your husband’s complaint, “Patti, baby, do you wanna sleep in a chair? Or a bed? The ground doesn’t look very nice to rest on.”

“Yeah, Mama’s right. The ground’s gonna mess up your back,” Chilchuck joins you, ready to scoop up your daughter when she shakes her head.

“Wanna stay by Mei and Fler…” she pouts.

“Okay, but let me set out some more blankets, alright?” you kiss her on the forehead once, then twice when she beams and nods.

Chilchuck is already standing to retrieve spare blankets from your closet, he’s back before you can impede the hallway. He stops you from venturing further by propping a leg in front of you, “Don’t worry about it, I got everything.”

“She’ll need a real pillow, too, honey.”

“Yeah,” he taps at your ankles with his foot until you’re relenting, turning back towards the living room, “I said I got it.”

“Thank goodness for my big, strong man, huh?”

“I am the breadwinner,” he teases, granting you a kiss on the cheek before dropping to lay the blankets out as a makeshift mattress for Puckpatti.

“Self-imposed!” you rasp, stage-swatting at his back, “I could get a job, too!”

“Do you want to?” you want to smack the smug grin off his lips, specifically with your own. In a kiss. For a long while.

“...no.”

He laughs at your sudden shyness. Tempered down only to avoid waking your daughters, “There you go.”

“Boo,” you pull Chilchuck to a stand by the back of his shirt. You pull, and pull, and pull, and you don’t stop until he’s tumbling on top of you into your shared bed, with your door haphazardly kicked shut, “You’re mean to me.”

“I’m mean?!” he whisper-shouts, instantly more affectionate in how he wraps his arms around you and buries his face into your neck, “You choked me, yanking on my shirt like that.”

“You’re alive, aren’t you?”

“Barely,” he abruptly goes limp, “I’m half dead.”

“Half dead isn’t a thing, Chil,” you giggle, trying halfheartedly to shove him off.

“It is, I’m half dead,” he insists, “There’s only one way to revive me.”

“Uh-huh… and that is?”

“A kiss,” Chilchuck lifts his head to look you in the eyes, suggestively bumping his eyebrows, “A sloppy one.”

“No!” you gasp, dramatically.

“Loud and wet,” he nods in even measures, clicking his tongue, “Only way, I guess. Really tough for you.”

“I don’t know about that,” you wiggle out an arm from beneath his body to poke his cheek, “You seem fine now. Very lively and talkative!”

“Means I’m dying faster. It’s the final burst of energy before I shit my pants and die.”

“Ew!” your shout is smothered beneath Chilchuck’s hand, his laughter rumbling your body, forehead digging into your collarbones.

Between choked chuckles Chilchuck manages out a meek, “sorry, sorry!” he gasps for breath and releases your mouth, “That was gross.”

“Yeah, now get off me. You’re nasty.”

“See? You’re mean to me, one mention of shit and I’m just an expendable stud.”

As soon as Chilchuck rolls off you and onto his back, you’re crowding onto him, pawing at his chest and kissing his cheek, “You are a stud.”

“Can I get a kiss for that, at least?”

“I just kissed you, greedy.”

His deadpan stare inspires a bizarre longing in your thumping chest, you stretch to grant his wish. Chilchuck’s hands cup your cheek, holding you close to prolong the kiss as long as you’ll allow. Such restless and selfish want is reserved for behind closed doors, which you wish you could understand, but you don’t.

You’re preoccupied with the dread of death. Half-foots are blessed to live past fifty. Sure, you and Chilchuck are merely scratching at twenty, but life is too short for him to be shy about these things.

“I wish you’d be more open and lovey.”

“Hm?” he hums against your lips, pulling away to stare at you strangely, “Why?”

“‘Why?’” you mock, “I’m your wife! That’s why.”

Instinctually, Chilchuck goes to wave off the answer as a joke and roll his eyes, but then something barks. Both of you pause, heads turning slowly towards the now gaping door to find a shaggy white puppy standing in the dim space. Swiftly, its tail wags, and it barks again before charging towards your bed.

Your screech at the dash rouses Chilchuck from his shock. Clumsily shuffling so he’s in front of you, taking the brunt of the dog’s pounce.

“Since when do we have a dog?!” Chilchuck looks over his shoulder at you, as if you’d know.

“As if I know!” you parrot your thoughts, breath slowing to a calm when the small dog cuddles your husband’s arms, “Kinda cute though, right?”

“He broke in!” Chilchuck accuses, lifting a shoulder to prevent you petting it -- his plan fails miserably and you’re easily scratching behind the dog’s ears, “He could have ticks! He could’ve bit the girls on his way back here!”

“No,” you whine, resting your chin on Chilchuck’s shoulder, “He has a friendly face, he’d never do that!”

“And you know that how…?”

“Aw, Chil, honey, have a heart! He was probably scared of the rain and snuck inside to get away from it!” you reach under the dog’s head to now scritch his chin, “Which is our fault for leaving the door open, isn’t it?” you’re already a lost cause to logic, repeating back to the puppy, “Isn’t it? Yes, it is! Yes, it is! He understands me! He’s so smart, Chil, we have to keep him.”

His silent glowering makes you wilt over his back.

You retreat from the dog to hug your husband from behind, “C’mon, have a heart!”

Irritation pulses through Chilchuck at the turn of tonight’s events. Everything before this dumb dog felt natural, smooth, and familiar. Until you said that.

One thing that makes his heart rate spike. Even though, at twenty, it means very little to him.

‘I wish you’d be more open and lovey.’

He knows this means more.

“Okay, okay,” he eases, snatching a chaste smooch from you before combing a hand down the dog’s soft fur, “I’ll work on it.”

You two never had a dog, though.

Puckpatti is allergic -- you never would’ve gotten a dog since it’d cause your daughter so much distress.

What’s in his arms isn’t a dog, but it isn’t a mimic.

What’s in his arms isn’t a dog because this isn’t real.

.

.

.

Chilchuck’s eyes drift open, a dusty ceiling stares down at him. Slowly, a crushing weight is relieved from his stomach.

Blonde and black hair mingle in his peripherals, then Laios is leaning over him obnoxiously, speaking to the other two while looking at the half-foot, “Does Chil sleep with his eyes open?”

“No,” Chilchuck takes initiative, shoving Laios away by the chin and sitting up with a yawn. His back cracks unpleasantly, and eye crust pokes into his fluttering lids. Rubbing the gross clots away, Chilchuck settles his elbows onto his knees before resting that way -- leaning into his hands even after his eyes have been cleared out.

For a moment, he silently mourns the fading images of his dream; already having forgotten the beginning. No matter how desperately he clings to the story, it escapes, leaking out his ears until all there is left to mourn is the fact he’s awake.

All he knows is that dream ended differently than it should have. Hopefully the ending this time was better than real life, not that it matters. He wouldn’t remember, nor would it change the fact that in reality you two are not together.

“Chilchuck? Are you okay?” Marcille sounds hesitant. Worried.

The last thing he needs is her fretting and prying into what his Nightmare could’ve been about, so instead he lamely says, “Tired.”

“Oh, okay,” she sounds entirely unconvinced. He’s surprised when she doesn’t push.

He’s further surprised when Laios does, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

…

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Chil’,” you croon, hands curling around the man’s waist as he silently uncorks a bottle of cheap wine. He makes sure not to jostle you off as he moves the dark glass to his lips, even cupping your overlapping hands with one of his own to steady you, “You should talk to me about these things!”

“It was fine, we went in -- got what we needed -- got out. I’m back and alive.”

��Alive’ strikes you, it sticks in the back of your head as soon as he says it. Your arms tighten around his slim waist, the slots of his ribs dig into your forearms and it makes your chest tighten. Swirling thoughts colliding and dragging each other deeper and deeper into your darker concerns: Chilchuck starving himself to maintain an unhealthy weight, Chilchuck burning calories in a revival, Chilchuck having to drink himself under just to fall asleep.

“Would you tell me if you died?”

“Why would you want to know that?” he laughs, yet you’re frowning into his back.

You bite your lip until raw iron spills onto your tongue, gnawing it with the anxiety of how to soften this question. How marshmallowy can you make your tone to avoid lecturing while also not patronizing him? Eventually, you settle on just spitting it out,

“Would you even remember it?” he hums, confused, “You drink a lot, Chil’.”

He squeezes your hands, setting down his wine to turn in your hold, now cupping your cheeks -- flush with upset and ready to dampen with tears, “I don’t get blackout on jobs, you know?”

“But,” you don’t want to pester him, to drive him away from home even during his off time, “Chil’, honey, you’re… with your weight, alcohol could- well- !”

“I know,” he interrupts your stammering, drawing a thumb across the apples of your face tenderly. Though his posture is rigid, and his next statement confirms your suspicion that he just wants to stop talking about this, “I appreciate you looking out for me, but really, don’t think so much about it. Work’s not worth talking about at home. And my drinking is totally recreational, I want to enjoy myself and unwind, is that so bad?”

“No,” you heave with defeat, now planting your forehead against his shoulder. Clenching his shirt in a bunch, you squeeze and squeeze and squeeze hoping it’ll squash out any thoughts of continuing to nag his drinking. It’ll end the same way it always does.

Chilchuck is fine because work is fine and his drinking is fine and his diet is fine because Chilchuck is perfectly perpetually fine.

You’re just a worrywart wife. Your kids are grown, having flown the coop, and you’re going mad in loneliness. You should think less. You should learn to be fine like your husband.

…

“Woah, no way! They want to meet me?”

“Uh-huh,” Chilchuck’s eyes trail after you as you rush from one end of the room to the other, clicking jewelry clasps and snapping buttons into place as you go, “It’s nothing to dress up over,” when you seem to ignore him, he only gets louder, “We’re gonna be late, you know?”

Let me dress up! is what you want to snap at him, but you don’t. Instead, you let those comments join the many others from him that rattle around in the back of your mind like rocks.

“I want to make a good impression,” you finally utter, “It isn’t like you tell me anything about work, I’m excited to meet your friends! Besides, if you wanted me to be more prepared then you should’ve said something earlier.”

“I get it,” and in a bid to be polite, but just coming out tumbling into the rock pile is, “If you had work friends, I’d wanna meet them, too.”

The obvious dig is that you don’t get out. Now that the girls are older and independently caring for themselves, you could more easily find work… the problem lies in how you don’t really want to. You’d be too scared of Chilchuck returning home to an empty house, whenever it is that he does come home.

The hidden dig is that he’s fibbing, he would never want to meet your friends like you want to meet his.

Nevertheless, you tuck a white hyacinth cob into your hair and head for the spot Chilchuck claims his group frequents for after-work drinks. Before tonight, it never really occurred to you that Chilchuck might be grabbing drinks with other people. Not that such an idea alone is what bothers you, rather that he’s out so often and for so long potentially enjoying himself while you’re stuck at home sick over whether he’s alive.

Upon arrival, a pair of tallmen greet you both. Smiles light up their faces, cheeks balling with glee, when their eyes spot you. It should probably be embarrassing how quickly such an insignificant act can get you excited. You wave and they wave back.

“Gonna introduce the lovely lady?” the slightly taller one, black haired with stubble stretching down his neck, prompts.

“We should get to the table first,” Chilchuck reaches for the door, holding it open for you.

(if you were presenting Chilchuck to your friends then you’d repeat yourself introducing him ad infinitum with shining pride, but you add that thought to your rock collection)

“This is my wife,” Chilchuck pulls out your chair for you, waiting until you’re sat before adding your name and sitting beside you, “Hope she’s everything you all hoped for.”

You choose to ignore that. Preferring to strike conversation with his friends until,

“You know,” the blonde woman at the head of the table leans forward, you’ve been rudely trying to avoid looking at her. But how can you blame yourself when she stares at your husband with such a sultry, lidded gaze, “I think you were exaggerating how spacey she is, Chilchuck. Adorable thing’s been keyed into our conversation the whole time.”

Chilchuck grumbles into his rapidly emptying mug of ale, then locking eyes with the blonde woman, “You don’t live with her.”

“Hey!” you sound bratty and grating with the whine, but your spirit feels worse, “Is that what you tell them about me?”

“And clumsy,” the gnome directly across from you chirps.

“But!” the black-haired one from earlier interrupts, apparently sensing your drowning mood, “You’re a good mom! Great, even!”

“Oh,” the compliment does very little to satiate you, given what’s been said against you (you don’t stop to consider that Chilchuck mentions those things because he finds them charming). You look over to your husband, “I’m a good mom?”

Chilchuck is drunkenly chortling over something you hadn’t heard the blonde woman say.

But at least you’re a good mom.

Something plops against the hand buried in your lap. A scattered white hyacinth. Embarrassed suddenly by how much effort you put into your outfit, you sweep the flower off your leg and stare at the table -- praying to avoid more glimpses of the blonde at the head of the table.

Nobody seems to notice your veil of silence, not even Chilchuck to tease you proving his point about spacing out.

On the trek home, you trail behind Chilchuck to test if he’ll notice. At some point, you’re three full paces behind him, and you theorize that the weight of all your freshly added brain-rocks is slowing you down. Again, he holds the door to your shared home open, but does not ask the cause for your sour mood.

Assuming he’s even noticed, anyway.

Given the way he leaves the next morning for another job with little more than a kiss to your forehead, you assume he didn’t. Venomously, you wonder if he would notice the blonde in a bad mood.

That same morning, not knowing how long he’ll be away this time, you pack up and head for Flertom’s house with Puckpatti.

(a flickering hope tries to toss the rocks through your ears, assuring that Chilchuck will come for you as soon as he’s seen you missing)

…

Four years later, Chilchuck does finally come for you.

“Hey, Mama?” Flertom creeps around the corner to the kitchen, hands wrinkled in the skirt of her dress nervously, “You have a visitor…”

Looking up from your book, you roll the handle of your coffee mug in your palm, making the bottom scrape against your daughter’s tablecloth, “Who’d visit me?”

“Dad.”

That makes you hesitate before slipping your book closed around your thumb, “Your father’s here?”

“He’s at the door,” she nods, voice lowering as if he’d hear her across the house, “There’s an elf lady with him!”

“Oh, you’re- !” you purse your lips, sighing through your nose, and nod. Rising to a stand, you replace your thumb with a proper bookmark before skirting around Flertom and through the hall. Curses coagulate in your throat, and you suffer them silently, holding them until they melt back into your chest, not wanting to swear out your ex in front of his daughter.

With more force than perhaps necessary, you pull the door open and annoyedly flick your eyes from Chilchuck to the blonde elf woman behind him.

“What? Came to show off?”

Chilchuck flushes red, shaking his head and tilting a preciously wrapped bouquet towards you, “No! No, we’re not together.”

Elf Lady lets out a quiet gasp before refusing sharply, “Not together at all! He’s here for you!”

“I figure he’s here for me,” you’re much more bitter than you thought you’d be, although to be fair whenever you imagined Chilchuck coming to see you he was never with another woman, “If you’re not together, why are you here?”

She frowns at your tone, Chilchuck sticking an arm out in front of her, “She’s my coworker. And friend. She pushed me to come see you,” he steps forward, waving the flowers under your nose, “Can we talk?”

“About what, Chilchuck?”

His eyes widen at the use of his formal name, plastic wrap crinkling loudly as he squeezes the flowers. Then his gaze drops to his feet, “I didn’t realize we were so unfamiliar.”

“I haven’t heard from you in four years.”

“You haven’t heard from me?” he grins sideways, an agitated twitch in his left eye, “Do you hear yourself?”

You open your mouth to retort, only to then catch the sight of Chilchuck’s ‘friend’ lingering -- staring -- not even three feet back. Glaring at her, you begin to slide the door shut, “I think we’re done here. You show up at our daughter’s house, unannounced, with some pretty, blonde filly and expect us to chat like old friends? You’re just as insensitive as always, Chilchuck!”

As you go to slam the door, Chilchuck shoves his foot in the way, hissing at the resounding ache all through his instep and ankle. Breathless from the sudden pain, he worms the bouquet through the slim gap -- a few stray powder blue hyacinth petals fluttering to the floor at the pressure. Just above the plush flowers is the sorrowful sight of Chilchuck’s wet lashes and batting eyes.

“Come on,” he huffs, not even taking a huff of relief when you let the door open wider. Tensely, Chilchuck wraps his other hand around the bouquet as well, “It’s not like that, you know me better, don’t you? I just need to talk to you,” the wrap squeals again as he squeezes tighter, “I just want you to tell me where I went wrong.”

He’s playing to your big headedness, vying that he’s alone in the wrong. You know him better, most definitely, you know that as soon as you two sit down he’ll bring up the way in which you left. You deserve that much, don’t you? If you could change anything (given that what you can pick from is what was actually your fault), it would be the manner in how you left. You would’ve waited until he was home to tell him to his face.

(except that’s a lie, if you had waited then you would’ve let him sucker you with soft apologies and unfulfilling promises to change)

This is the most vulnerable you’ve seen him in years.

“She’s not coming into my home.”

Chilchuck nods, lips stretching fondly, “You’re so jealous.”

“She’s tall, and blonde! And pretty. And- !”

He cuts you off, tone just as soft as it was seconds ago, “And I’m not giving her flowers, am I?”

“Apology flowers,” you mutter, though sweeping the bouquet from his arms into yours. Skimming one of the soft petals under your thumb before gliding from one bob to the other and touching there, too. Turning toward the burning feeling of eyes on your back, you find Flertom’s blown out stare meeting yours.

Flertom holds both hands out silently, brows raised. Pushing in neither way, only offering to hold -- whether she holds you or the flowers is your decision. You choose the flowers. She giggles and waves you off, whispering to the flowers about what a lovely, empty vase she has just for them!

“We shouldn’t talk here,” you step out from Flertom’s home, “I don’t want to include our daughter in our troubles.”

“What a good mom,” he teases, waving off the elf as he steps down from Flertom’s porch, holding out a hand to assist you down as well. The remark has a new defiance bubbling beneath your skin.

“I can walk myself,” you bypass his offer.

“I know you can, but let me be nice.”

“You had lots of opportunities to be nice.”

A retort is trapped on the back of his tongue. Ultimately, he swallows it, and says nothing except to suggest a bar nearby, “That could be a good spot,” at your judgmental stare, he sputters, “For talking!”

“Right.”

Chilchuck has a favored tavern in Kahka Brud, the one where you told him you were pregnant with Puckpatti. He, very selflessly and pumped full of blind joy, bought a round for the patrons. It's not a particularly popular or nice place, there’s a lingering smell of mildew and the usual customers are lonely old men (basically: Chilchuck). And the door still creaks when he holds it open for you.

And the tables are just as wobbly when you sit there. Chilchuck tries in vain to mask the tipping by forcing it to one side by pressing his elbows down.

“So, what was she doing there?”

“She kept bugging me about my personal life, so,” he sighs, unsure how to explain himself without sounding out of his mind, “In short, I promised she could meet my family.”

“Pretty against your usual tough front.”

“Not tough,” he folds his arms now, hands on either bicep, still trying to keep the uneven table steady, “I just don’t think they have to know my business.”

“You realize how stupid you sound, right?”

“Oi,” a deep voice approaches from the other side of the bar, a man unfamiliar to both you and Chilchuck stands behind the counter, “We don’t serve kids here.”

Chilchuck groans, pointing at his ears without looking back at the man, then his eyes catch the way you’re prepared to hop down from your seat. He shakes his head, “Don’t move for this dumbass. If he can’t tell a tall-man kid from adult half-foots, he’s a fucking idiot.”

“I guess, but what if he just kicks you out for being a dick?” you glance at the bartender warily, trying to sense if he’s gearing up to throw you and Chilchuck out by force.

“I’m not worried about him,” Chilchuck leans forward, almost as if he can assert control over the situation by a meager height difference, “I’m here to talk to you.”

You’re unsure how to respond to that. It’s something you’ve always wanted to hear from him, but now that you have it feels unsatisfying. After four years of your sudden disappearance from his life, he’s finally given chase.

“Do you have any idea why I left?”

“Roughly,” he admits, voice quiet, eyes redirected to the table in shame, “I wasn’t there for you, right?”

“That’s a bit simplified. When you were on crawls, it felt like you being away for work felt the same as when you were home.”

“I wasn’t there for you,” he restates, nodding slowly, “So, that was it?”

His lack of tension hurts you more than you’re willing to admit. Enough that you temporarily forget that you wanted to make him feel the distance between you both.

“Chil…”

You revert to his first name.

“It’s okay, you can say it. That was it. You had enough.”

It goes unacknowledged, and that hurts all over again. It hurts so bad, you start to get angry that he even maintains such an effect on your heart.

“I didn’t want- it wasn’t- I’m…” you groan loudly, eyes clenching shut to avoid him, “That’s the problem, Chil,” his silence prods you on, “You think of me leaving as… as a ‘that’s it’ moment. Do you know how hard that was on me?”

“Leaving was hard on you? I came home to nothing that day! I thought you were just upset, maybe a little depressed, I didn’t think you were planning to leave me! I never thought you’d leave.”

“I told you. I told you why I was upset.”

“When?”

“I told you all the time!” before he can open his stupid mouth, you’re yelling again, “And if you knew I was so sad, then why didn’t you ask?! Did it never occur to you that I might need support? That I wanted my husband to talk to me about how I felt? That he should talk to me about how he feels?”

“I’m no good with emotional shit, you know that. When I’m upset I just feel uncomfortable spilling that onto others, I didn’t want to intrude.”

“We were married! Spouses are supposed to intrude!”

His shoulders droop, face falling like you said something genuinely devastating (but that can’t be, right? why would he be so upset about something he gave such little thought to?), “Were?”

“I was gone for four years before you came to see me, Chil,” you lay your head in your hands, “Four years before you looked for me.”

“I thought you didn’t want to see me again,” he whispers, “I asked Fler about you.”

“She never told me that.”

“I told her not to.”

Redundantly, you say, “I didn’t know that.”

“I thought you hated me,” Chilchuck draws a slow breath, it fills his whole chest before he lets it all out, “And for the first couple of months after Fler told me you were safe, I hated you, too. I was so mad that you didn’t even leave a note. I couldn’t eat or sleep, I was just… confused, and angry. I couldn’t work,” he swallows hesitation, “And the worst part was… I couldn’t talk about it because nobody knew you. Re-explaining it to people would just piss me off all over again.”

“Your old coworkers met me. And we grew up with Dandan.”

“I didn’t want to talk to Dandan,” he huffs petulantly, “I wanted to talk to my wife.”

So many feelings are bottled between you both; shaken up to a fizzy, bubbling mess about to explode from one of you. You fear it may be you. You almost crave for it to be him, though. You hate him. You miss him. You love him.

And you’re lying through your teeth, still, because you don’t hate him at all.

“Being with you, I felt so lonely.”

“I never took it seriously when you said I should open up more. I thought that because we were married that was enough and you’d be content to just be there,” he purses his lips, “I was wrong. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” you reach across the table and pull one of his hands off his arm, lacing his fingers with yours, “I should’ve left a note. I’m sorry. You must’ve been worried sick.”

“I thought some bastards took you. Ran up and down the coast accusing everyone I could see of kidnapping,” he chuckles, although the ragged beat in his voice clues to you that the incident was not as lighthearted as he’s making it seem, “But when I found out the truth, I just thought you didn’t want to be found.”

“Because you wouldn’t want to be found, right?”

“Right.”

“But- !”

“You’re not me,” he squeezes your hand tight, you can feel the full warm softness of his palm without those gloves he pulls on for work, “You’re way different. You run away to prove points,” a bratty hey! follows, “You know yourself really well, and you’re good at being open. I’ve never been like that. I never knew how, it makes me uncomfortable. But you’re my,” he swallows, “You were my wife, I should’ve been comfortable being emotional with you. You shouldn’t have been in a position where me being home was the same as me being gone for days on end.”

“Thanks, Chil,” you smooth a thumb from his knuckle and along his index finger. You glance back up to his face. A sick nostalgia, or perhaps revived affections, rage up from your gut and overdriving your heartbeat. He’s more handsome than you remember.

He shrugs, studying your conjoined hands. As if it’s the last time he’ll see them like this.

It might be.

“What now?” you ask.

“Dunno,” he replies.

Is it pathetic if you ask to get back together? (YES)

“Want to meet my new coworkers?” he blurts, a vicious red overtaking his face.

This is a step. Where exactly, you’re completely in the dark, but it certainly is a step somewhere new.

“You’re seriously not with that elf, right?”

“Of course, not! What kind of person tries reuniting with their wife while bringing a new girlfriend along?”

“You really want that answer?”

“Oh, fuck you,” he snides, getting down from his chair and holding out a hand to help you down. This time, you take it, and leave his palm in yours as you both exit the bar, “By the way, my old boss is a king now.”

“What?” you gasp, spare hand flying down to smooth out your outfit, “Tell me we’re not going yet! I can look nicer than this!”

“You look pretty like this,” his eyes scrawl over your frame, “Not that it matters, right?”

“Why not?” you frown, “I should at least try to look my best in front of a king.”

“He’s just some guy,” he double-backs suddenly, shaking his head sternly, “I don’t even think he’s attracted to people, I think he’s into monsters. You shouldn’t waste your time.”

Oh!

You smile at your husband widely, “You’re jealous!”

“Not even a little. Why would I be?”

“Exactly,” you pull him into your side by your hand in his, “Why would you be?”

Is it pathetic for him to beg to renew your vows?

Yes.

Does he still plan to?

Yes.

…

“You have a wife?”

“Is that so surprising?” Chilchuck can’t help but preen at the shock, carding a hand through his hair like some pompous dork trying to act too cool for the attention, “Yeah, I’m a taken man.”

Clara, a blonde tallman he usually laughs at rather than with, pesters for more information, “What’s she like?”

Her curiosity makes his skin itch, so he shrugs and tries throwing out answers as fast as they come, “Kind of a space case, and clumsy. But it’s cute…” he scoffs when his party coos and ‘aww’s like he’s some kid talking about a crush rather than a grown man his wife, “She’s really caring, too, it made her a good mom,” Chilchuck clears his throat, if only to smother the sight of his broad grin with his hand, “She’s great.”

“We should meet her,” his black-haired cleric suggests suddenly, “She probably wants to know what group has her husband away from home so often. Hopefully she doesn’t hate us, huh?”

“No,” Chilchuck lowers his hand, still feeling a gentle giddy lap over him like sunlight at the thought of you, “She’s pretty understanding.”

~~~

+ and btw and fyi: i think it’d be cool if the dream was actually terrible and only appeared pleasant cuz laios saved chil, like how marcille remembered having a nice dream after being saves. like if the real dream was coming home from a long job to discover his family horribly murdered <3

[izvmimi]

cw: slight angst. engagement mention. implied backstory - reader has a cursed technique, reader went to jujutsu high.

When Yuuta enters the french-style bistro café and you wave at him excitedly with both hands, the first thing his eyes are drawn to is the catching of light on the facets of your new engagement ring.

You notice this, too, and the thought of it makes you almost sheepish. Yuuta looks somewhat exhausted as always, dark circles a natural feature of his visage much like Kento’s harsh cheekbones or Megumi’s frown, but he smiles when he sees you, approaching quickly and taking a seat across from you.

You lean in, grinning. “I was worried you were going to ghost me!”

Yuuta offers you a soft smile. “I’ve never ghosted you, I’m just busy. I figure you know what that’s like once in a while?” 

You frown, deciding that you’re not exactly a fan of the jab, although it’s something to expect in your catching up. You’re usually the one who starts the teasing, and it’s been in that arrangement since your days together at Jujutsu High, but over time as your relationship developed, Yuuta became far more adept at teasing you back, and you realized quickly that you’re not as great at accepting what you dished out.

“I can still be busy without fighting curses 24/7,” you whine. “You know I was never meant for this shit.”

Yuuta doesn’t reply, instead turning his attention to the waitress who now that you’re no longer effectively being stood up, comes by to provide glasses of water. Yuuta orders a coffee and a sandwich, and you splurge with a pasta dish. 

“In the meantime, I guess I’ll just take all your missions,” he says flatly. You jut your lip out at him again.

“You’d think you’d actually be nice to me considering you haven’t seen me in person in six months, Yuuta-kun.”

Yuuta pauses, then tilts his head. He’s not exactly sure why he’s giving you such a hard time, but he won’t pretend any longer he doesn’t know why you called him out specifically. His eyes flash to the ring again. Your lips are still sealed but he can see the excitement practically on the tip of your tongue. Maki’s already told him over a week ago.

“Congratulations on your engagement, ___.”

You beam and thank him, and Yuuta remembers how quickly and easily you express your emotions, how fast you cry, how loud you laugh, and how bright the light in your eyes grows when you think of Yuuji. 

“I didn’t expect it, actually,” you add. Yuuta laughs as warmth sets in your cheeks and you wrinkle your nose.

“Considering you threatened to kill me if I killed him back then, I’d hope that this would be the outcome.”

You blink, and the scene returns to your mind. Yuuta squashing the ladybug curse you’ve sent to spy on him; you in angry tears pleading for your new friend’s life, for the absolution of a kind boy who liked you just a little too earnestly from the very first glance. You’d told him that night that the higher ups would use Yuuta to execute not just Yuuji, but the three of you  - you, Yuuta, Yuuji - the children whose executions were staved off by the same man, in one fell swoop. You’d told him he’d die too, even if you never developed the strength to become his executioner in turn.

“I still wish you had told me the truth,” you murmur. You’d said more than was right that night, thinking endlessly of whether or not your technique could really seal Rika if it came down to it, thinking of what it would be like to miss one of your best friends, but bygones are bygones.

“Probably should have.” Yuuta replies. His sandwich arrives and he thanks the waitress politely. You sprinkle black pepper heavily on your pasta before turning it on your fork. He bites into his sandwich and you watch him, slurping up your own noodles. Yuuta is quiet by nature, but this silence is heavily pregnant and makes you uncomfortable. The distance between you has grown, whether you like it or not.

You swallow your noodles and finally break the silence.

“Do you think I’m making a mistake, Yuuta-kun?” you ask, finally. Your voice is small now as if someone were to overhear you, enough that he just barely catches as he looks into his coffee mug, his reflection just barely visible on the surface of the drink. He looks up at you and forces his dark blue eyes to soften.

“Of course not.”

You breathe through your nose as your eyes meet his. “Is that all you think?”

Yuuta chews and swallows and holds your gaze.

“He loves you,” he replies, simply. You try to find a lie, a flicker of something repressed in his features, but find nothing. You’re not sure what exactly you’re looking for, but your heart stirs.

“I know,” you reply. 

There’s another pause. Then your shoulders sink.  You sigh and it’s light but Yuuta can tell when you’re trying not to cry.

“I don’t think my heart is a good enough match,”  you finally admit. Yuuta knows exactly what you mean by this - he understands your penchant for negativity more than Yuuji does, he knows what it’s like to feel darkness, something Yuuji constantly fights against. Yuuta’s hand moves slowly and pats yours on the table. It’s gentle and kind, but not intimate. He’s lost that right by now, and probably for good reason. 

“You’re the best thing that will ever happen to him, ___,” Yuuta reassures you. 

After all, you’re one of the best people he’s ever known.

A tear makes it past your lash line and you laugh, embarrassed as you pull your hand back to wipe it away. Yuuta thinks about how your hand feels to hold for just a few moments longer. He hasn’t held your hand ever, he thinks, but he knows Yuuji has. Many times over.

“I can’t believe I dragged you out to complain about my engagement,” you shake your head and slurp up more pasta. “I’m not talking any more for the next ten minutes, so you better tell me everything about Fukuoka.”

“Kill count first or sightseeing?” Yuuta jokes, and it makes you laugh. He smiles too, and fiddles with the ring on his own finger. Rika’s ring, a binding vow.

He hopes Yuuji’s curse of love will be strong enough to protect you forever.

[tossawary]

Details (quote plus thoughts) on Shen Qingqiu killing the Skinner Demon and his reaction afterwards, including his conversation with Luo Binghe about using his disciple as bait, and his promise that Luo Binghe will never suffer any misfortune. Long post. Warning for a brief description of graphic violence, specifically the Skinner Demon's body afterwards.

"The corner of Shen Qingqiu's mouth twitched, and he gathered all of his spiritual power into his right hand, lashing out with a palm strike and smacking Die-er in the chest. The demon flew back like a kite with a snapped string.

This was the first time that Shen Qingqiu had killed someone. But he didn't hold back, not even a little. First, because this was a book; second, because this was a demon who'd killed countless people; and third, because if he didn't, he'd be the one who got killed.

Shen Qingqiu gazed down at the horrible state of "Die-er": four limbs twisted and broken, bleeding from the seven facial apertures. He turned away, bombarding his own brain with a barrage of his three reasons until they blocked out the screen of his mind.

Striving to remain calm, he slowly stood and straightened, settled his hear and breathing, fixed his posture, and turned to Luo Binghe.

"This is your first time seeing someone 'eliminate demons and uphold justice,'" he said. "Were you scared?"

Luo Binghe's still-childish face was slightly pale.

"If you wish to 'uphold,' you must 'eliminate,'" said Shen Qingqiu, composed.

Luo Binghe gritted his teeth. His voice quavered. "Shizun, if this disciple may be so bold as to ask, just now..."

When the second half of the sentence didn't arrive, Shen Qingqiu spoke, "You want to ask, if that ceiling beam hadn't suddenly come crashing down, what was this master's plan?"

Shen Qingqiu had no choice but to suffer in silence, he yearned to tell Luo Binghe: Don't worry, even if the ceiling beam hadn't collapsed, perhaps the wall would have. Even if the wall hadn't, perhaps the pillar would have. Long story short, you definitely wouldn't have died, the boss definitely would have, and that's all there is to it.

But he couldn't speak these words, so he could only adopt an unpredictable air and evade the question by changing the subject. "If you're asking this, are you blaming this master?"

Luo Binghe shook his head. "No," he said, his expression sincere. "If this disciple could give up his life for Shizun, it would be an honor."

Shen Qingqiu was shaken. This kid really was too much of a white lotus!

"Then this master will promise you in kind," he said after thinking for a moment and settling on properly ambiguous words. "Even if an accident befalls this master, no misfortune will come to you."

This was an absolute truth. Even if Shen Qingqiu died one hundred times - ah, on hundred times - Luo Binghe, the protagonist with impervious plot armor, would go on living in perfect health.

"On this matter, I speak nothing but the truth." His voice resounded as he said this, his expression confident and collected, without the slightest hint of falsehood.

When Luo Binghe heard these words, it was as if his life force had been ignited. The sunflower that had begun to wilt revived, full of renewed vigor.

Holding Xiu Ya in both hands, Luo Binghe lifted the blade until it was even with his brows and presented it to Shen Qingqiu. "Shixun, your sword!" "

Volume 1, Chapter 2, pages 83-84.

This is a weird moment, emotionally, because it's both Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe's first time dealing with violent death (and demons). Shen Yuan didn't even go to look at the skinned body! (And neither did Luo Binghe!) Ming Fan did that part of the investigation! I doubt Shen Yuan in his past life was ever in a position where he saw a dead body at all, much less a mangled one or a skinned one. (I have personally seen donated human bodies (muscle + bone) used for the study of anatomy, and it is... an experience. It's not pleasant.)

They are both very young here. In fact, Luo Binghe is almost certainly both more acquainted with violence (being regularly beaten up as he trains with Cang Qiong, his shitty childhood beforehand) and with death (his adoptive mother's death, probably witnessing some other horrible stuff while he was on the streets) than Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan may have seen gore in media before, but this is very real. This is where his entire transmigration experience suddenly becomes a lot more real than it was before this mission.

Shen Yuan is a laid-back person who strives to go with the flow, and he's not afraid to deal out violence and to kill in defense, especially when the Skinner Demon is a serial killer. He goes on to face even greater violence throughout the novel and at least kills plenty of monsters at the Immortal Alliance Conference.

And yet it reads to me as though... he's seeking comfort here? He seems shaken-up. But he can't express it because that's OOC. And he presumably doesn't want to put the weight of his upset on Binghe even when he's allowed to share his emotions, when the OOC lock breaks shortly after this exchange. I think that he does want to comfort Binghe here, to apologize for using him as bait, to thank him for saving him, but also... I think he unconsciously wants someone to comfort him here, to talk it through with someone, to make himself feel better by looking after someone else.

Binghe, however, is not at a point where he's willing to be especially emotionally vulnerable with Shen Qingqiu. It's too early. "Shizun, I'm scared, please comfort me," probably would have gotten him beaten about a week ago. He's far more focused on the fact that Shen Qingqiu used him as bait, that's what scared him most, that his teacher might honestly want him dead. It's also a threat that's still present, so that's what he asks after.

And Shen Yuan can't really explain himself! (The System would't let him if he tried, probably!) So he dodges the question! In a way that makes him look pretty good, still, I think, kind of implying that he did do something. (Because otherwise it's way too much of a coincidence!) And when Binghe isn't interested in talking out the Skinner Demon's death, in talking out their mutual first encounter with violent death and killing, Shen Yuan just kind of... buries this incident immediately. He goes to the Ling Xi Caves shortly after this. He doesn't talk to anyone about it. Which is how he ends up dealing with... a lot of his negative feelings later on.

I think Binghe is lying when he says it would be an honor to die for Shen Qingqiu here, honestly. Maybe later on, when his relationship with Shen Qingqiu is even closer, he would mean it sincerely, but right now? It's too early, in my opinion. I think Binghe would genuinely start to mean this after Shen Qingqiu gets poisoned by Without a Cure for his sake, but not before. Maybe he wants to mean it now? He wants Shen Qingqiu to be worth dying for because otherwise... what is all this fucking suffering for?

Whenever I reread SVSSS, I'm struck by how... quiet... Luo Binghe is at the beginning. When Shen Qingqiu accidentally ends up spying on the first interaction we see between Luo Binghe and Ning Yingying, which becomes the scene of Ming Fan stealing the false jade pendant, Binghe is... quiet, thoughtful, determined, solemn, angry, resentful of Ming Fan, possibly also resentful of Ning Yingying. I don't think his self-confidence is high, but... I don't know, I don't think he's as much a "white lotus" here as he presents himself to be to Shen Yuan and his fellow disciples. His life has sucked. He's aware that the world is kind of shit, even he hopes his future will improve.

When Binghe is dealing with Meng Mo, he's savvy, stubborn, unimpressed, demanding, aware of his high ground and unwilling to cede it. Even after the time skip to right before the Immortal Alliance Conference, when Binghe and Shen Qingqiu's affection for each other is at its highest, Binghe isn't particularly... puppy-like at seventeen. He's eager to see Shen Qingqiu again, eager for his approval, but he's also relatively confident, almost suave with statements that could be read as flirtation, running parts of Qing Jing Peak on Shen Qingqiu's behalf.

(Part of the reason that Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe fail to immediately reconcile after Binghe returns from the Abyss is that Binghe has genuine anger over Shen Qingqiu's betrayal and isn't willing to just throw himself at Shen Qingqiu's feet to potentially immediately be stabbed again, and I don't think Binghe's ability to feel anger started with the Endless Abyss.)

I do think Binghe at the beginning of his time with Cang Qiong Mountain Sect wondered if / assumed that Shen Jiu's treatment of him was happening because he was genuinely doing something wrong. And I do think that after Shen Yuan shows up and starts saving him and treating him well, Binghe became intensely attached and went on to rationalize Shen Jiu's behavior as necessary correction of some wrongdoing + trying to make him stronger. But I think some small part of Binghe at this point in time must at least suspect that Shen Qingqiu is just as asshole. Binghe is too clever not to have considered the possibility, even if Shen Jiu repeatedly broke his heart disappointing him.

Anyway, Shen Yuan promising that no misfortune will come to Binghe? Even if some accident befalls his master? WILD thing to say at all. ABSURD thing to explicitly promise the protagonist.

It's possible that Shen Yuan still assumes that this point that he'll be able to prevent Luo Binghe from going into the Endless Abyss once the OOC lock breaks. I don't think Shen Yuan knows yet that the System is going to force him to push Binghe in or lose 10-20k B-Points and probably die. Shen Yuan still hopes that he'll be able to "cling to those thighs" and avert everything! It's so early on that the System probably hasn't made those threats yet!

It's also wild because... it seems like Shen Yuan is completely forgetting about emotional harm? He later tries (and kind of fails) to rationalize to himself that going into the Endless Abyss will just make Binghe stronger, so it's fine and good for Luo Binghe actually, not a misfortune, but he must know on some level that Binghe being in "perfect health" physically does not mean that Binghe will escape without mental and emotional scarring.

At the moment, I think that Shen Yuan desperately wants to comfort Binghe, without knowing how to do it without showing physical affection or friendliness, so he makes this RIDICULOUS promise. Partly because he still believes he'll be able to change things and he wants to promise to look after Binghe forever.

[littlehypnone]

can i request Aether and Little Mountain doing whatever. like, it can literally be anything you desire, add in whoever you want too!

just in the mood for cg aeth and little mount

Thank you!!!

sorry it took me some time afghasgf i hope its alright, just some cuteness with little mountain, cg aether and brief mama dew at the end

also a tag for @tinymoon-beam as promised :3

Aether was a great caregiver, it was widely known. All the littles loved him, and even though each and every one of them had a specific person they preferred when little and that was simply their favorite caregiver, Aether was always up there.

Especially for Dewdrop and Mountain, they’ve known each other for what felt like centuries and were through a lot together. Not many people remember, though, that Aether and Mountain were there, together, even before Dewdrop was summoned. The quintessence and earth ghouls were close, but not as close as Aether and Dewdrop, even if the fire ghoul’s mate was technically Rain, not Aether. The whole dynamic of the pack could seem complicated to outsiders, but at the end of the day they all loved each other so much it hurt.

Anyway, Mountain—dropped—and Aether have been spending their day outside, the little earth ghoul all happy and bright about the weather. It was one of the first days when it was actually sunny and warm enough to go out and enjoy the near-spring.

Mountain has been sitting on a small rock, staring intently at a few snowdrops with a big smile on his face.

“Happy to see them? Hm, sapling?” the quintessence ghoul asked, crouched down next to him.

“Y– yeah! They m– make me think of Dew.”

“Because of the name?”

Mountain giggled and nodded, “But also ‘cause they feel similar.”

“That’s interesting,” Aether smiled at him, starting at the little flowers himself. If he thought about it, they did have something Dewdrop-like about them. He got an idea, then, and pulled out his phone. The quintessence ghoul snapped a quick picture of Mountain grinning at a bunch of flowers and sent it to Dewdrop.

Awaiting a reply, he turned back to the little ghoul, “Wanna stay here with your snowdrops or do something else? We’ve got a few hours before it gets cold.”

“Hmmm…” Mountain thought. “Can we stay?”

“Of course, sapling. You shouldn’t sit on the ground, though. I’ll get someone to bring us a blanket, okay?”

“Okay,” the earth ghoul smiled up at Aether and got back to staring at his flowers. Aether picked his phone back up to do as he said, just in time for Dewdrop’s reply to the picture to come through.

D: hes so cute

A: wanna know what he said about the flowers?

D: sure

A: that they remind him of you. he keeps staring at them just smiling

D: it should be illegal being this sweet

D: how am i supposed to keep up my tough guy persona when all i wanna do is coo over him

A: speaking of which. wanna bring us a blanket so he doesnt sit on that stone? you can coo over him then

D: omw

Aether put down his phone after that, focusing back on Mountain who hadn't moved an inch. One of his hands was loosely laying on the wet ground, fingertips slightly digging in. The quintessence ghoul remembered a conversation they once had, about the earth’s heartbeat and how Mountain could feel it and that he really enjoyed it.

Aether was happy that he was happy, the winter was slowly melting away—literally—and the earth ghoul’s exhaustion and anxiety went with it, just as every single year.

“Aeth?” he spoke up at some point, tilting his head in the quintessence ghoul’s direction. 

“Yeah, sapling?”

“I wish you could hear the earth,” he said, humming and looking back down. “‘cause it's a bit like me and… if you heard it you would feel my… my… uhm… m’ sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay love. The word escaped you?” Mountain nodded, blushing high on his cheeks. He was a sophisticated and well spoken little guy, but words in english tended to run away from him sometimes.

“It’s… I mean– meant meleth,” he explained, using the ghoulish word.

“Ah.” Aether scooted closer to him and brought an arm around him, encouraging the little earth ghoul to lean against his side. And so Mountain did, resting his head on the other’s shoulder and starting to purr quietly. “That would be love in english, sapling.”

“Yeah,” Mountain confirmed.

“What would be love?” they heard from behind them and they both turned, seeing Dewdrop with an armful of a thick blanket. The earth ghoul grinned, eyes bright and escaped Aether’s embrace to run into the fire ghoul’s. “Hi, rosey.”

“Hi, mama,” Mountain mumbled as Dewdrop squeezed him in a hug. Aether took the blanket from him and laid it out by the little patch of flowers. The other two sat down on it, but, to the fire and quintessence ghouls’ surprise, Mountain peeled himself off of Dewdrop and crawled over to Aether. His tail wrapped around Dewdrop’s forearm, but he planted himself in Aether’s lap.

“Alright, then,” the fire ghoul smiled, not taking even an ounce of offense. “Tell me all about the snowdrops, rosey.”

And Mountain did.

[hyuckbeam]

hit or miss

you’re given a bet by your own best friend to finally earn you some kissing experience at the ripe age of 18, but what if he’s the one you’ve been wanting to kiss all along?

pairing | bff!haechan x reader

genre | fluff, just a bit of angst

warnings | y/n uses she/her pronouns, both y/n and hyuck are dumdums! kind of slow burn, curse words are explicitly mentioned, cousin!winter, i think that’s all but lmk if i missed anything!

wc | 4.3k words

note | this is pretty inspired by the webtoon “the kiss bet” because i currently have a hyper fixation on it and i absolutely love all the characters ;0; this is also way longer than intended but anyways,, i hope u enjoy! all rbs and likes are appreciated, thank you <3

D-15.

“in three, two, one, happy birthday, y/n!” your best friend, haechan announces aloud for everyone in your apartment complex to hear at 12 in the morning.

“come on! make a wish before the candles blow out!” winter, your cousin, urges you with a big smile on her face.

having just finished your night time routine and prepared yourself for a night's worth of sleep, you were rather shocked to see them with one of those trendy bento cakes and rainbow colored party hats adorning their heads.

despite your confusion, you walk up towards them with a grateful smile resting upon your lips. “seriously, when did you guys plan this?”

“oh, it was all my- ow, hey!” haechan gets cut off midway through his statement because of a nudge from winter’s elbow.

“what he was trying to say was it was all my doing. you’re welcome bubs!” your cousin beams, eyes creasing into crescents. “though i’d wish you’d hurry up. this cake isn’t holding itself up for you, y’know?” she adds on rather playfully but you can tell she truly meant it.

gathering a deep breath, you blow out the candles and cheers erupt from the people you deem closest to you. winter then sets down the cake on your coffee table in relief as your best friend slings his arm over your shoulder.

“sooo y/n, got anything planned for the year? a small resolution or something like that, i don’t know.” he rambles off, suggesting the idea of having a goal to work towards now that you were deemed an adult (though, haechan kept referring to this as the year that marks your jail-ability era).

you feel a little tingly from his touch, even when you know the two of you are just friends and nothing more. what you’re feeling is probably just a phase. it’ll go away.

“i’m not really sure, got any ideas for me?” you ask the two instead, eyeing them both in a back and forth motion.

“we can always work on that dating experience of yours- last i remember, it was up to the high number count of… zero.” your cousin chips in from the side as she slices the cake for the three of you to share, her tone sarcastic while she teases you.

it’s true, you didn’t have a lot (re: any) of experience in the dating sector, but perhaps that could change starting this year. “that… might not be such a bad idea.”

haechan’s interest seems to have been piqued — he’s making that look. that specific expression where the corners of his lips turn upwards, a brow raised, and that glint in his eye. oh, you know it all too well.

“come on.” you urge the boy. “start sharing your idea. i can practically see your mind ready to explode.”

“well, since you’ve asked me ever so kindly. how ‘bout a bet?” he starts, taking a few steps towards you with that cocky expression of his. “i bet you 10 dollars to kiss someone in two months. not that hard, right?”

“what- you want me to kiss some random person for 10 bucks?” you gawk out in surprise.

he only shakes his head, “i never said it needed to be a stranger. just, someone in general.”

you processed the idea thoroughly, running all sorts of possible scenarios in your head. wouldn’t it be much easier to kiss… haechan himself? that just seemed like the most plausible approach for you.

he wasn't a stranger — the furthest from one. you were comfortable with him. the kiss didn’t have to mean anything (though it might mean a tiny bit more to you), and in addition, you’d be making some cash.

everything seemed to check out. the only problem was that you had to ask him to kiss you. still, surely this was better than any other alternative, right?

“i’ll do it but… can’t i just kiss you and get it over with?” you finally voice out your thoughts, pretending to make your question sound playful in case the request backfires on you.

“you’re my best friend, that’s a little odd, don’t you think so?” haechan replies in the same tone, lightly ruffling your hair before going over to retrieve a slice of cake from winter.

ouch. way to have your first bit of “dating experience” be your best friend… friend zoning you. what a lovely start to your 18th birthday.

D-13.

a few days had passed since the bet you made with haechan had been established, but not one ounce of progress had been made.

to be fair, how were you supposed to kiss someone else when all you’ve ever wanted was for that kiss to be with your best friend? that’s tough luck.

you attending classes today doesn’t really help with your thoughts either, especially when both haechan and winter had been asking about said progress one after the other.

you’d be lying if they weren’t starting to give you a headache.

as if on cue, winter approaches you, some lecture books in hand and her bag slung on her shoulder. “y/n! how’s your progress?” here we go again.

“just as i told you yesterday, nothing yet.” you reply with a small sigh.

winter senses the frustration behind your words, encouraging her to suggest ideas to help you. “how about finding someone you like? it might make it easier for you know… to kiss them.”

“i don’t think that’s still a good- actually, you might just be onto something, minjeong.” your gears start to churn in your mind. in order to wash haechan off your mind, you might as well find someone else and maybe get an actual relationship out of it.

the idea was just perfect for you.

“have i ever told you how much i love you? i gotta go but i’ll see you after class, winter!” you excitedly bid her a goodbye, rushing to your classroom so you could better plan out your new gameplan.

though the most ideal situation was long gone, you now had a back up plan and you weren’t going to back down so easily from the bet.

you were now busily scribbling on your notepad, forgetting that a new student was to transfer into your class today. the teacher calls upon your attention and as you look up, your eyes land on a boy with great resemblance to a cute bunny.

apparently he’s the new transfer student.

the teacher gives him a moment to introduce himself. “hello everyone, my name is na jaemin. i hope we all get along!” so that’s his name, you thought to yourself.

surprisingly, he was told to take the seat in front of yours, offering you a small smile and a curt wave, one that you gladly return, before he takes his seat.

actually, maybe you really could forget haechan for just a teensy bit.

D-6.

a week goes by without haechan seeing you once. an entire week. was he always this eager to see you? to bask in the warm sight that is you? he thinks he must be going crazy.

the only time he ever gets updates about you is through winter which aren’t much to go on. he does remember a key detail she mentioned previously about how you’ve been spending time with that new student, jaemin.

what was so special about him anyways? well, he was surely going to find out soon.

as the bell rings to signal the start of recess, he dashes out of his classroom, taking big steps towards yours.

there, haechan finds you in his seat and he’s about to approach you until he sees you’re in the middle of a conversation with the one and only, na jaemin.

“this is how you do this, right?” jaemin asks you, directing your sight to a piece of paper that has a bunch of math formulas written on it.

“yeah! i’m surprised you got that rather quickly.” you compliment the boy in front of you with a small laugh.

your thoughts on jaemin have changed drastically since the first time you met him. he’s a sweet boy, someone you could never take advantage of. it just felt wrong to you so you just dropped your entire plan as a whole.

it was alright to lose the bet. at least you kind of made a new friend out of it, right? you smile to yourself at that thought.

to haechan, however, your smile is so bright in jaemin’s presence, it’s practically blinding everyone in sight. have you ever smiled at him like that? wait- why does that matter?

he doesn’t like you, no way.

you’re best friends, yeah. his love for you is as platonic as can be — at least that’s what he tells himself.

for someone as bold as haechan, he can’t seem to find the confidence in him to walk towards your table and steal your attention. instead, he steps out of the classroom, unnoticed by you.

D-5.

“JAEMIN DID WHAT!?” haechan yells into his phone, winter being on the receiving end of the call.

the girl tuts, “scream one more time and i’m hanging up on you. and yes, i heard he confessed to y/n. i don’t think she gave him an answer though.”

“sorry, look, i was just really surprised.” a deep sigh comes out from haechan before the call goes silent. he takes the time to process the situation, but the idea of you and jaemin being together just rubs him off the wrong way.

“doesn’t she see how bad he is for her?” he finally reasons out.

“uhuh, in what sense exactly?” winter retorts.

“he’s probably just using her to gain attention or something! can’t i look out for my own best friend?” the response is laughable, even to haechan, but he goes along with it.

winter laughs into the call, “are you even hearing yourself? that’s pretty baseless, even for you haechan.” she replies shortly afterwards. “seems to me like you’re jealous.”

“are you hearing yourself, winter? no i’m not! get your head screwed on properly!” haechan answers back in the same incredulous manner as she did to him just a few seconds ago. “who would i even be jealous of?”

“jaemin. who else? i think it’s pretty clear to most. you aren’t that great at managing your feelings, y’know-” the girl’s voice cuts off for a second, “-oh, i’m being called to dinner now but seriously, get yourself together haechan. i know you like my cousin. bye!”

the line goes beep and haechan tosses his phone onto his bed. she really did just leave him hanging like that. how could she after bringing that idea up?!

jealous? not a chance. haechan never gets jealous.

D-4.

haechan wakes up the next day feeling tired, having not slept a wink after winter’s words kept replaying in his head.

i know you like my cousin.

you like my cousin.

you like her.

and these same words follow him as he makes it all the way to school. perhaps seeing you in school would help him understand his feelings better.

he really just wants this to be over with.

with trudged steps, he makes his way to your classroom and luckily enough for him, there you were already in class before the first bell rang.

he blames it on the lack of sleep but you look so ethereal sitting down in your chair as you bop your head lightly to the music that’s presumably playing on your earphones.

the sight is something to behold- that is until he pivots his head ever so slightly and sees jaemin accompanying you. god, why does he have to be there.

so maybe haechan does get jealous. sometimes.

maybe that’s why he acts without thinking, swiftly dragging you from your chair and out to the school courtyard despite your protests.

“hyuck let me go-” you grumble, tugging on your arm but he doesn’t budge one bit. it’s only when you reach a bench in the furthest part of the courtyard he decides to get go of your wrist.

“seriously, what is wrong with you?” you scoff out in disbelief. “this is the first time we’ve spoken in days. i think you could’ve just asked me if you really wanted to talk.” with the addition of those words, haechan finally realizes what he’s done. he knows it was wrong but he isn’t going to back down from the argument that was brewing between you two.

“me? how about you? you’ve been so lovey dovey with mr. perfect all this time! don’t you have yourself to blame on why we haven’t seen each other in so long?” he spat out coldly.

your heart sinks, and yet, you can’t help but feel even more enraged. its true, you’re part of the reason for the lack of communication between you two. after all, communication is a two way system. but doesn’t that also mean he’s also to blame?

“i enjoy jaemin’s company a lot! is that so wrong?” you shoot back, biting your bottom lip before mumbling the latter part of your statement. “at least he isn’t as grumpy as the person standing in front of me.”

ouch.

the boy hears this and gets ticked off even more. maybe it really is the lack of sleep but he seriously can’t understand her reasoning anymore. instead, he assumes she’s just doing all of this for the bet.

“do you really want to win the bet so bad? if that’s what you want, just kiss me and be over with it. i’m literally letting you win. you can stop seeing jaemin now.”

and that’s when it hits you a little.

why is he bringing the bet up all of a sudden when you just want a genuine relationship with jaem- oh. he couldn’t possibly see you as someone like that right? he said it himself! he doesn’t like you and even denied your request to kiss him a few weeks ago.

but, if that were all true, what other explanation would there be to his actions?

he takes your silence as a no, prompting him to leave you in the courtyard all alone.

you couldn’t seem to understand him at all no matter how hard you tried.

as soon as you got home from classes that same day, you rushed yourself back home and into the comfort of your bed and pillows — treating them as if they were your closest confidants and cried while you shared your troubles.

it wasn’t productive on your end but it was much needed for you to at least think straight. you’d been bottling your contemplations all day long after all.

here you are laying lifeless on your bed, using all your braincells to dicern what the fuck happened earlier this morning.

you know haechan doesn’t like you. you’ve said it to yourself so many times now.

maybe he’s just jealous you’ve been spending more time with jaemin because, although you have different intentions before, you realized you couldn’t see him in that way nor had the heart to just use him for your own gain.

haechan was a different story though. you feel flushed just thinking about him, knowing full well the both of you are in the middle of an argument between each other.

remembrance of the frustration hits, making you groan at the thought of having to remedy it. if you and haechan had anything in common, it would be the stubbornness you both share.

the last time you both got into an argument this big was back in junior high. neither of you spoke to the other for an entire month. it got so bad that both your parents had to call each other up to devise a way to get an apology out from the both of you.

though it would make the entire situation much easier, your parents no longer delve into these types of problems — and neither do haechan’s. you’re both all alone to fix this one yourselves and you wish you’d been more grateful to your parents for mending your relationship with haechan.

deep down, you already know the both of you will struggle to find the right timing, but you certainly hope that day would come soon. you didn’t exactly like being away from him either (even if he made you feel like shit for the rest of the day).

you decide to sleep off your worries for the night, hoping and praying that tomorrow would be a better day for you.

D-3.

tomorrow is not any better of a day.

jaemin and haechan both invited you to eat with them for lunch which quickly escalated into a light argument between the two. you couldn’t even bring yourself to butt into their conversation, seeing how they were fighting over something so silly.

“i’m her best friend, we do this pretty much everyday!” you hear haechan yell at jaemin, his frustration for the other getting the best of him. “plus, i need to talk with her. without you.”

“if the two of you are just best friends, then what gives you the right to dictate her answers?” jaemin fires back, keeping a calm and collected appearance throughout.

this shuts haechan up and the entire cafeteria goes dead silent. oh boy, did you want to curl up into a little hole. everyone was staring and you didn’t like that one bit.

nevertheless, you decided to be the bigger person — uttering a small apology to jaemin before walking off to the table you usually sat at with haechan — the latter following you a few steps behind.

neither of you speak as you begin to eat your separate meals, another sign the relationship between you two was starting to fade out into dust.

winter joins your lunch table shortly after witnessing the drama unfold, she looks at haechan with an unreadable expression and the boy stays quiet during the whole meal.

didn't he say he wanted to talk? an apology for the day before would have been nice.

you get fed up by the silence, placing your food back on the tray before picking it up. you mutter a quiet “i can’t seem to understand you at all.” directed at hyuck before leaving and switching over to the table where jaemin and his friends are sitting.

it all happened too fast and haechan didn’t realize you were leaving until you already did. he really did want to talk but how was he supposed to do that after having that situation with jaemin?

he wanted to calm down first but you had other plans. you really left him in shambles this time.

winter can’t help but sigh at the ongoing conflict. she silently wishes she wasn’t involved this much if it was going to turn out like this.

D-2.

haechan knows he truly has to make it up to you (including a long overdue explanation of why he’s been acting weirdly the past few days) but doesn’t know how to do that. apologies never came easy to him. his mind couldn’t help but go blank everytime he tried thinking of a way to approach you without making things more complicated than they already are.

the sheer amount of times he’s hit a brick wall has him calling the only person who probably knows more about you than he, himself, does.

he picks up his phone, searching through his contacts before landing on a single person, now waiting for the phone to ring.

“hello?” winter’s voice reaches him through the call. “i knew you’d call after what happened at the cafeteria.”

it takes a moment for haechan to answer, “maybe if jaemin wasn’t so aggressive–”

“you both were. now spill, have you gotten your feelings sorted yet?” the girl pushes his dramatics aside, getting straight to the point.

“i… think i do. you were right all along.” haechan finishes. although it was hard for him to admit at first, now that he’s actually said it out loud, it might be the first time he’s been feeling a sense of clarity after so long.

winter hums at his confession. “at least you’re finally taking a step in the right direction. now, to win her back…” she smiles to herself, already having a plan in mind.

you, on the other hand, have been seeing haechan and winter together often for the past week. naturally, your mind begins to wonder if your own cousin is the reason why haechan rejected you way back during your small birthday celebration.

the evidence matches up pretty well — he probably couldn’t reject you directly because she was in the room with the two of you that day. he isn’t spending as much time with you anymore because he’s spending time with her.

they look good together.

those words linger in your head more than you’d like to admit.

you feel cast aside by the people you’ve known practically your entire life but you don’t have much of a choice but to return to jaemin’s company. after all, you chose to eat the rest of your lunch at his table instead of the one that brought familiarity to you.

D-DAY.

day after day, the two of you just seemed to grow even more distant and you wondered if the end of your long-term friendship was nigh approaching. you barely saw him roaming through the halls of campus anymore, much less your cousin.

you didn’t dislike the new friend group you had (jaemin introducing you to his friends after you finally told him about your situation with haechan, but you couldn’t help but feel… dissatisfied with your current situation.)

as your class ends, you prepare yourself for another silent walk home. despite having those new friends, you felt lonelier than you ever had. you missed them. you missed him. and yet, life seemed to have other plans for you.

even trudging down these halls filled with other students made you lonely.

truthfully, you would do anything to have them back- a pain to your forehead snaps you out of your thoughts. you had bumped into someone. well, not just someone, but the person you’ve been longing for the most.

haechan. he was right in front of you after who knows how long it’s been.

you felt like crying on the spot but held in your emotions to appear like your life was anything but lost. haechan knew that look on your face, presuming you haven’t been well ever since the two of you have spoken. he takes your hands that have slumped to your sides into his, and the small gesture reminded you of the warmth he’d bring into your life.

“are you up for a short conversation perhaps?” you only nod and he takes that as a signal in the right direction, though, he isn’t used to you acting around him like this. oh boy, this was going to be more than a short conversation.

haechan leads you into the gymnasium and the two of you sit down by the bleachers with no sight of other students in the area.

“before you get mad- i wanted to apologize first. i shouldn’t have acted the way i did. i was childish.” he begins, holding eye contact with you to show his sincerity. “frankly, i was jealous. jealous you spent more time with jaemin, and you seemed to enjoy you time with him more than the times we hang out together. i shouldn’t have made you feel sad in any way, but i did and that’s completely my fault. i’m sorry.” you know his words hold both his feelings and the truth.

he wasn’t going to lie to you. he never once did during the time you knew each other.

however, what he admitted to had you flustered.

he was jealous of you and jaemin? it was a little hard to believe until you remembered the latter confessed to you the past week. oh god, did word of that spread out? nevermind that, what happened between you and jaemin was the least of your worries, the boy in front of you was. what if haechan got the wrong idea from the rumors?

“it’s not completely your fault. we both were pretty stubborn.” you reply, a soft chuckle leaving your lips to ease the tension between you two. “and if… if you’re curious, i never returned jaemin’s feelings back.

haechan gets pretty taken aback by your statement, now wondering why you brought it up. “oh… i know.”

“you knew? did winter tell you?” you question in anticipation. “i guess the both of you are pretty close now.”

“she did but i swear our friendship is nothing like that!” it was his turn to get flustered. “she could never replace your spot in my life.”

“i’m a little confused though after all of this…” you gesture out, referring to the situation that has just recently moved past you two. “what spot do i even have?”

he pauses, taking his time to think of the right words he wants to tell you but they all get stuck in his throat. the expression on your face showed how you took his silence negatively, prompting him to speak. “i like you. i couldn’t admit it even to myself for the longest time and-” having enough of his rambling, you inch a little closer and give him a kiss on the lips.

it’s brief, and yet, it continues to linger on his lips. “you kissed me.”

“why do you think i never gave jaemin an answer to jaemin’s confession?”

“so you were really saving it for me? i’m honored.” he chuckles out, playfully holding his hand to his chest.

“well, you should be.” you add on with the same bright smile he’s seen you flash at jaemin, except this time, it was absolutely for him.

“i guess that also means you won the bet?” he recalls, a brow raising at you.

you give him a light nudge on his shoulder while suppressing a giggle, “oh, shut up and just kiss me. you owe me 10 bucks by the way.”

tags !!

[a-living-canvas]

Moon Milk and Paper Stars

Whumper was sipping on his coffee, enjoying the calm evening in a cafe when a chair across from him was being pulled out and someone sat on it. It's Whumpee. Again. This time with a bouquet of flowers that eventually would be thrown away by Whumper. Just like the usual.

But Whumpee didn't seem to catch on that yet, that Whumper wasn't interested in them.

They were a nuisance to him. Kept coming back with chocolates, letters, and gifts. Whumper put his cup on the table, looking at Whumpee while letting out an exasperated sigh. Hoping that would be enough to shoo away the creature in front of him.

But it wasn't, and Whumper regretted not rolling his eyes at Whumpee while he still had the chance. 

"I have something to give you." Whumpee said giddily, eyes beaming with excitement. Whumper sighed again.

"Yeah, I can see that. "

Whumpee held out the bouquet on the air, fingers slightly touched with Whumper's as he took the flowers from them.

Heliotrope.

Oh, how sweet. Whumper chuckled in disbelief at whumpee's level of delusional. Did they really think they could be with him? 

"Do you like it?" Whumpee asked with a smile. They were hoping their tender gift could cheer Whumper up in some kind of way. Seeing him smile was enough for them.

"Oh, of course I like it. It's pretty and has deep meanings about it. Although I must ask, what's with the gifts and flowers? Could you perhaps wish for us to be more than just strangers?" 

Whumper asked, silently observing Whumpee's facial expression. They looked down on their lap, cheeks tinted red in embarrassment. "I…I do have to admit, I really hope we could be more than just strangers…if you don't mind…"

Whumper nodded in understanding. "Sure, I wouldn't mind being your friend if that's what you want."

Whumpee hesitated. They lifted their head to look at Whumper, "No…not just friends. I mean, like, maybe we could be…lovers?"

Whumper bursted out laughing at that. He covered his mouth with his hand as he laughed, eyes tearing up in amusement. Lovers? That's absurd. Totally absurd. What were they thinking when they said that?

"Oh no no no, you don't want to be my lover. " Whumper stated, still smiling and chuckling. Whumpee smiled reassuringly, leaning slightly on the table.

"I mean it…! I want to be your lover. You are a wonderful and kind person."

Oh no, now they looked at Whumper like he needed validation and encouragement to be more confident with himself. Whumper smirked, playing along as he sipped on his coffee.

 

"Is that so? Or is that just how you want to see me? I'm not easy to handle, you know?"

"I'm sure I can handle you just fine…! You just need to give me a chance to prove that…"

Whumper raised an eyebrow. "You sure, huh?" He sipped on his coffee again, finishing the last bit of liquid as he pondered in his head. "I could give you a chance if you want it…"

He narrowed his eyes at Whumpee. "But just that, don't expect more from me."

Whumpee nodded. "I promise."

~

"Give me your bag." Whumper ordered as they stood on the doorway at Whumper's house. Whumpee slightly taken aback in confusion but then they handed the bag to Whumper and entered the residence. 

The house was kept simple, not many decorations but still had its spark. Whumper had many dogs, all gathered in one room as they were eating. Meat specifically. Something felt off about it but Whumpee just brushed it away.

They walked straight to the bedroom. Whumpee entered hesitantly, not sure what to do even though they could already feel excitement swelling inside them. Whumper took off his jacket before running his fingers through his hair.

"Now, let's see if you are capable of pleasing me." Whumper turned around and faced Whumpee, eyes darken with sinister intent. 

"Get on your knees."

Whumpee blinked their eyes a few times. "...what?" 

"Don't make me say it again."

Whumper ordered. His tone of voice changed slightly. More dominant, more commanding. Whumpee swallowed hard, they weakened their knees and fell to the ground. They could feel their heart beating so fast when Whumper walked towards them, tipping their chin up slowly until their eyes looked directly on the ceiling before it got replaced with Whumper's eyes.

Whumpee had a hard time breathing in that position. They could feel a few strands of their hair being pushed to the back of their ears with gentle fingers. Whumper closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he exhaled softly.

"Open your mouth." 

Whumpee obeyed. They opened their mouth, feeling the pad of Whumper's thumbs brushed across the crown of their bottom teeth. It's so soothing, almost intimate when Whumper suddenly pushed his thumbs against Whumpee's teeth. 

Whumpee's eyes widened in shock. Pain registered in their mind as they grabbed Whumper's wrists almost instantly, trying to stop the pain. But Whumper didn't budge at all from his position. He kept pressing Whumpee's teeth, blood dripping down from their mouth to the floor. 

Whumpee's groans and whimpers were completely ignored by Whumper. He stopped putting the pressure when Whumpee's incisors fell out to the ground. Whumpee breathing heavily, looking up at Whumper in fear. They wanted to say something, to ask why, but they were just met with his cold and creepy smile.

"Having fun, Whumpee? Are you really sure you can handle me? Can you handle anything that is much worse than this?" 

Whumpee went speechless. Tears streaming down their face. They just wanted to be there for Whumper, to care and love him. Not…not whatever that's happening right now. 

"Do you know what I want, Whumpee?" Whumper asked. He walked towards Whumpee again and grabbed a fistful of their hair, leaning down to their height. He looked at Whumpee with narrowing eyes and spoke with his commanding voice.

"I don't want you to view me as a potential romantic partner. No, I don't want that. I want you to worship me with every single part of your being. Your body belongs to me. I own you."

Whumpee whimpered softly. Their fingers trembling like mad. They realised it now, how wrong they were to try to fix someone like Whumper. 

"Oh, darling, don't leave me hanging like this, hm?" Whumper chuckled softly as he released Whumpee's hair before moving to grab their chin instead. Whumpee stammered as they made eye contact with Whumper.

"I-I truly love you. I just want to help you…w-why can't you just let me…?"

Whumper's eyes softened. He stroked Whumpee's hair gently. "Oh, Whumpee…it's not your fault if a weak and pathetic creature like you would be attracted to a predator like me. That's just how it should be."

"But that's also why you need to know your place, to embrace your nature and submit to me…rather than defying the law…" Whumper stood up again, looking down at Whumpee.

"Now be a good slave and kiss my feet."

~

Part 2

[amaretigris]

Could you do a one-shot where the reader gets kidnapped by pirates and Eric goes and recuses her to bring her to safety. It’s your choice if you want to add smut after that situation happens but if you don’t and just want to keep one-shot that just has fluff i’m fine with that as well.

Hello! Thanks for this ask. I am happy to do these for you guys, I only ask that you respect the basic etiquette of making requests. I do these in my free time, which I will soon be short on, so please keep in mind that they are requests and basic manners still apply. Not directing this at you specifically, I just want to avoid any future crass asks. :)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! 1.3k words

Everything

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Sailing back to the kingdom to see your Prince, the salty sea air whistled through your hair. You couldn’t help but get excited at the thought of holding him close again. You had taken a short voyage to your homeland to visit relatives that you hadn’t seen in far too long. You weren’t originally from Eric’s kingdom, but your parents made the move there when you were small. You had held only images in your brain of your home island all these years, no solid memories. It was nice to revisit the place and see what it was like as an adult. Having just had your 18th birthday, Eric surprised you with the idea of the voyage. He ordered his fastest ship and his best crew to escort you there and back safely. He wished that he could accompany you, but there were too many things that required his immediate attention at home.

Sighing out of contentment, you let your thoughts wander. How did you get so lucky to have a handsome prince like Eric fall in love with you? You still weren’t used to the idea after about a year of being with him. He didn’t care that you weren’t royalty, seeing as how he couldn’t stand royalty himself. Eric could escape with you and feel normal for once in his life. That’s all he ever wanted. A crashing sound startled you from your thoughts as you involuntarily jumped. Turning from the bow of the ship to investigate, a bottle smashed across your head. Blacking out, only patches of light came in and out of your vision. You thought you were being carried somewhere, from the little sense that you could make of the situation before you slipped into complete unconsciousness.

Your head was pounding. That’s the first thing you felt as you stirred awake. Creasing your brow and lifting your hand to your head, your arm stopped short of it. Something was rubbing against your skin. Blinking your eyes open, you looked down to see a rope tied around your waist and encompassing your arms. You sucked in a sharp breath as the reality of your situation hit you like a freight train. Frantically looking around the room, you saw that you were being held on the lower deck of a ship. Not Eric’s ship though. You didn’t recognize this one. You turned your head from side to side to try to look behind you. It looked like you were tied to a wooden deck beam. You started hyperventilating. This was bad. Really bad. Trying to take calming breaths, you heard a door wrench open behind you. You didn’t move a muscle as you waited for the approaching person to walk into your line of sight.

The man carried an odor with him; the pungent smell of body odor and alcohol mixed assaulted your nostrils. Not your favorite scent if you had to pick one. You examined the man’s back as he stopped a few feet in front of you. He had scraggly black hair and wore a captain’s hat. Shit. Pirates.

Your anxiety was multiplying by the second. You refused to speak first, fixing him with a stony glare as he turned around. As one dark brown eye met yours, you swallowed the lump in your throat. The sudden, chaotic sound of laughter made you jump again. Showing his few remaining yellow teeth, the pirate laughed hysterically at the sight of the frightened young woman in front of him. What a prick.

Settling his laughter down into a cheeky grin, the man finally spoke.

“Sorry for the inconvenience, Miss. It seems that there’s a prince waiting for you to arrive back at his castle. Seems to be a good trading chip to me. This has nothing to do with you, really. You’re just collateral damage. But you’ll feel better knowin’ that your life is worth your weight in gold. Or, ‘f nothin’ else, we’ll see if the prince really fancies you, aye?”

Winking at you with his one uncovered eye and turning to leave, you started to speak before snapping your lips shut. Trying to quell your anger, you reasoned with yourself - there was no point in trying to bargain with pirates. The ache in your head was still quite pronounced. You winced at the pain and tried to find anything to distract yourself. Looking down at the rope again, you struggled to see if you could sit. The tight knot didn’t budge. Instead, you swore that with your wiggling, it got tighter and cut into your arms more. Letting your head bounce back in defeat, you started to sob. You weren’t sure how you could possibly get out of this situation alive.

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Back at the castle, news had reached the Prince that his vessel was boarded by pirates on the outskirts of the port. He heard nothing but his rapid pulse in his ears after that sentence. Eric sprang into action. Running past the staff that broke the news and flying down the stairs, Eric raced to his study. He pulled his sword off the mantle, the one he hoped to never have to use, and rushed out to the dock. He yelled at the staff to get all hands on deck before sprinting up the ramp onto the ship. The Siren. It was normally used as a trading vessel but was well equipped for speed and efficiency on the water. He only hoped it could move fast enough. If anything happened to you, he didn’t see how he could go on. Shaking his head of that thought, he set to work to get the ship moving.

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After crying for at least an hour, your head was infinitely worse. You relaxed your body as best you could between the beam and the rope. You figured that you could at least try to sleep. The stress of the situation and adrenaline coursing through your body had taken its toll on you. Nodding off, you weren’t sure how much time had passed before you heard metal crash and scrape against more metal. You shook your head and tensed your arms. You weren’t sure what was coming; you just knew that you couldn’t go down without a fight. Even though you couldn’t do much in your current state, you were damn sure going to try. You braced yourself and tightened your jaw. The door crashed open behind you as you let out a squeal. You had to compose yourself. Come on, (Y/n), it’s now or never. Time to be brave.

You were preparing to kick at your attacker when the set of bright blue eyes that you’d been longing to see all morning suddenly flashed before you. Pain and anger were the first things you saw on his face as Eric rushed to you. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

“(Y/n), sweetheart, I was so worried. I thought I’d lost you.”

Tears clouded your vision, prickling at the corners of your eyes when Eric cupped your cheeks in his hands.

“Please, please don’t cry, (Y/n). I’ll never let this happen to you again, I swear. Here," he said as he reached for his sword, “let me cut you free.”

With one quick lash of his sword, Eric cut you free from your bonds. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you fell into him.

“Eric. Thank you. I can never repay you," you sobbed into his neck.

Wrapping his arms tightly around you, Eric shushed you.

“(Y/n), having you by my side is payment enough. I thought I’d lost you. I’ve never felt a pain that deep," he choked out as his own eyes welled up with tears.

He kissed your forehead and closed his eyes, sending tears running down his face.

“You mean everything to me.”

[dr-futbol-blog]

The Siege III, Pt. 2

Once again events conspire to keep our heroes separated. Sheppard is now onboard the Daedalus that sets out to take on the other hive while McKay has to get the shields up and running down in Atlantis. There is little Sheppard can do but look out of the window to the planet below wishing there was some way for him to help the people down there. Even out in space, far above the planet, he has his body turned toward McKay because next to him is where he wants to be.

Sheppard is showing clear signs of anxiety which Caldwell also notes and soon points out. This is not the anxiety of a fighter pilot having to watch a dog fight from the sidelines. It may be because he noticed Sheppard's anxiety that Caldwell decides to utilize his expertise on the wraith and their technology, to give him something to do besides just standing around. While the issues Sheppard has with authority are both many and manifold, and he often seems to have a hard time getting that 'sir' out of his mouth, he is likely so thankful for the daring rescue of his life that he easily falls into the role of a subordinate to the Colonel.

Caldwell: Major, do you recommend any specific target on the hive ship? Sheppard: One of the fighter bays, sir. Caldwell: It would increase the chance of secondary explosions. Sheppard: That was the thinking, sir. Caldwell: I agree.

Sheppard also seems very keen on taking the wraith out, trying to come up with strategies that might accomplish the task. What is notable here is that Sheppard is trying to think through the situation, he is trying to logic it. While he would much rather be doing something physically, tangibly, his relationship or friendship or camaraderie with McKay has taught him to slow down and to think things through. And this is why it is Sheppard that finally comes up with the solution that works.

Sheppard: We didn't even get close. Caldwell: Helm, alter heading to intercept. Go to max thrust. Helm: Max thrust. Caldwell: We just have to get closer. Sheppard: The Asgard gave you hyperdrives and shields. How come no offensive weapons? Caldwell: They don't like providing other races with anything that could potentially be used against them. Sheppard: I thought they were allies. Caldwell: Without the beaming technology, you wouldn't be here, Major.

It wasn't just Asgard technology but this man in particular that had saved his life, and what he says reminds Sheppard of this fact. He owes Caldwell his life. Much more than that, in fact, as the Daedalus bringing over the ZPM and beaming it down to the city would protect McKay and everything there that mattered to Sheppard. Since he was just reminded of all that is waiting for him down there, he is twice as determined to figure out a way to help them.

And talking about the Asgard (and apparently also watching the Canadian Bridge Officer Dave Kleinman's hand pressing buttons; this might have reminded him of someone back home as Kleinman does not not look like McKay) then gave him an idea:

Sheppard: How many of these things have you got? Caldwell: Only one needs to get through. Sheppard: Is there any way we can deliver a warhead the same way you plucked me out of the jumper? Caldwell: The Asgard have already considered that, Major. There are fail-safes built into the system to prevent their use as a weapons delivery system. Sheppard: You've got one of these Asgard on board? Can he override the fail-safe? Caldwell: Why would he do that? Sheppard: Well, his butt's on the line just as much as ours.

Sheppard makes the observation that when someone is in the same boat, it is in everyone's interest to work toward a common goal. Where the Asgard Hermiod can be convinced to help them by reminding him of this fact, McKay does the exact opposite and puts his own butt on the line for everyone else without anyone even needing to ask because that's just the kind of person he is. He does the heroic thing because it doesn't even occur to him that he could leave it undone. When there are people to save, it is his natural inclination to give his everything to see that they are saved.

As they so often do, Sheppard and McKay are working toward the same goal in parallel. They may be physically apart but they are working as one. What McKay is doing down on the planet is trying to get the shield operational, and so he has set everything up for Zelenka to execute just as soon as he gets the ZPM hooked up.

Getting it to the power room is the bigger problem since there are still wraith loose in the city. Weir has arranged a security escort for him but she seems to be able to spare only two marines for the job. The fact that McKay appears to take issue with this shows not only that he understands the gravity of what he is about the undertake but also the fact that he has grown used to being and feeling much more protected when Sheppard is around.

McKay: What is this? This is my security escort? Weir: Well, we are spread a little bit thin right now. McKay: OK. You need to know that if we come under fire, you're gonna have to put your lives on the line to protect me. Weir: Rodney! McKay: OK, I mean the ZPM. You need to protect the ZPM at all costs... and me. Am I wrong?

First of all, McKay has no desire to die or be injured, not now that he knows Sheppard survived. It had not been ten minutes since he had looked like a man that had nothing left to live for and all of a sudden his disposition is entirely altered. This scene is also played out for comedy. It is meant to highlight McKay's arrogance, thinking that his life is more important than those of the marines, when he does actually have a point. All human life may be sacred, all lives may be equal, but his role for the survival of Atlantis is quite singular. There is no one else that can do what he can do, and what he can do is essential. Sure, he's not meant to say it out loud but right now, at this moment, when their lives (and possibly the fate of the Earth) are hanging by the thread of him being able to hook up the power source in time to raise the shield, false modesty is not going to help them.

McKay has actually been around Sheppard enough to understand how soldiers need to be informed, how their orders need to be formulated and verbalized (which Weir continuously has trouble doing), and he needs to make sure that they understand what their mission is. Their mission is to protect him at all costs and if necessary, lay down their lives for the protection of the Earth. He is aware that it is the fate of the Earth that hangs in the balance, no more and no less, and they need to understand it too.

But what's really interesting is the expression on Weir's face after McKay takes off. McKay doesn't see it, no one sees it, it's a private look. But we as the audience sure get to see it.

Weir doesn't verbally respond to question McKay throws at her but her expression tells us that he is not wrong. The pained look on Weir's face tells us that it is not just for the survival of the city that McKay is pivotal. She had seen what losing McKay had done to Sheppard. She had seen Sheppard rush to that jumper to give away his life for this man. She didn't ever want to see Sheppard like that again, and she knew now that he could not survive losing this man. And this state of affairs greatly concerned her.

Her expression here is the same that we saw on her face twice with regards to Sheppard sacrificing his life, first as she had to let him do it ("I have to, and you know it") and the second time after they thought he had succeeded in his mission, that Sheppard had died. Both times she bowed her head and closed her eyes, the same as she does here. Beckett also had the exact same response to the thought of Sheppard having died. So, it follows that here too, as McKay takes off after throwing her the question of whether she thinks his life is important, she is likewise thinking about Sheppard and his sacrifice. Here, as McKay asks her whether protecting his life is as important as protecting the ZPM, she is thinking about Sheppard laying down his life. This is confirmation of the fact that these two things are connected in her mind.

Elizabeth Weir knows something that McKay does not know. She has seen a side of Sheppard that McKay has never seen, that Sheppard would never even want McKay to see. She has seen Sheppard at the very end of his rope. She knows what McKay means to him even better than McKay knows himself; she knows something that McKay would never even be able to realize because he could never believe someone would care about hi that much. So he's not wrong. They do have to keep McKay alive at all costs. She doesn't want to see what happens if they fail. Not just to the people of Atlantis, but particularly to John Sheppard. It is that thought that gives her pause here.

Continued in Pt. 3

[jeanette-luminia]

𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 (𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮) || 𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐌𝐒

PART TWO OF WOULD HAVE BEEN THE ONE

TW: Abuse, stalking? manipulative, controlling, swearing, hurt, heavy angst<3

A/N: taking a break after this, requests will be on the waitlist. this is a full 5.7k words and my whole left arm hurts. Can be read as a solo fic? I'm not sure. tell me if there's more to add in tw!

A perfect marriage was all you asked for. Being married to now your so-called husband, Desmond, you thought it would make you forget about the things from the past, more specifically, someone from your past.

But of course, love is cruel, your fate is cruel.

You gather the courage to leave the house as he asked. Well… more like demanded. You wore a long sleeve turtleneck to cover up the bruises and marks that your so-called husband had left. Grabbing a jacket on the way and stepping out of the house for the first time in a while. It almost made you squint with the amount of sunlight shining through your vision. You hesitated to step out of his house — you were too afraid. He has eyes everywhere. Everywhere you go, he will follow you.

But you perceived it. Put your hands in your pocket before going to Weathervane for coffee. Oh, how you’ve missed their coffee. The smell of freshly brewed coffee immediately made you feel homey. You waited for your coffee to be done, the usual coffee you used to have ever since before being married. The thought of you flew by. What if you hadn’t married him? You’ve imagined each scenario carefully, what would your day be like, or if you’d be with someone again.

Of course, it wasn’t possible.

You were pulled out of your reverie when a ding from a bell rang through your ear, indicating that your order is done. You politely thanked the barista and picked up the coffee from the counter and sipped through it. It's almost like your whole problem vanished away. To others, it’s a simple coffee to go by, yet to you, it feels like you were living once again.

Heading out of Wethervane, you almost forgot that someone could be watching you. Everything felt like it was normal. You thought about going to a flower shop nearby. The vases you have at home feel a little lonely and lifeless. Yes, there were flowers there, but it was always those plastic flowers that brought no life into your home whatsoever. A thought pulled you away when someone called you.

Your blood ran cold, thinking it was one of your husband’s henchmen or whatnot. Turning around, it was a friend you haven’t seen in a while. Aera.

“Y/N! Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it is you.” She held her hand out, emphasizing her words. While her face is practically beaming with excitement, almost as if she has been longing to see you. You can’t remember the last time you did see her, the past few years have been a blur. You were happy for a moment, but in the corner of your eye, you see someone staring at you. It was almost innocent. It made you sick. Desmond was a powerful man, a controlling one. Defying him would cause catastrophe in your life. 

You hated the man.

Aera stopped, noticing your distant daze. “Y/N?”

“It’s great to see you, but I have to go. I can’t talk to you, I’m sorry,” you said almost too quickly. You didn’t give her a chance to respond to what you just said before running in fear. It was a mistake going out. You should have never gone out of the house. You go away from the scene realizing you had dropped your coffee. Damn it.

You stayed in the study, reading a book you have yet to finish to distract you from the event that occurred earlier. How you wished you could stay, and catch up on how she’s been, even a hug would be nice. You have been longing for a touch that screams love. If a person asked what you wished for right now, you’d wish for a pair of arms to hold you close, and love you.

You have been daydreaming that you didn’t even realize you’ve stopped marking the book where you’ve left off.

However, your butler, Simon, had interrupted your quiet time with a piece of horrendous news you wished to not hear. “Mrs. Salvatore, your husband has arrived.” his flat tone didn’t hide the fact that he is worried for you. The staff has been fond of you ever since you arrived. It was like a sun had shone through the endless void of this horrible house. You always wondered how much they’d endured Desmond’s wrath before you came into the picture.

Before you could reply to Simon, the door opened. Your hands become clammy, trembling a little at the sight of him. He closed the door gently, and it scared you. He never closed the door gently, he usually slammed the door. He slowly loosens his tie before grabbing a whiskey bottle and a glass as you watch him pour the whiskey without saying anything. you silently signaled Simon to leave you two be, but he hesitated before granting your wishes. When he set down his glass too roughly, you knew he was mad.

“I heard you met up with Aera.” He kept his flat tone.

You tried your hardest to be composed. “Yes.” Matching his tone, you almost surprised yourself. The lack of emotions scares you.

"I also heard you left in a frantic, panicking even." He slowly rolled up his sleeves before you heard the heel of his shoes gradually come closer to you. you kept your head low, clutching the book in hand. you feared the way he looked at you.

His finger made an appearance in your vision, grabbing your chin harshly, and forcing you to look at him. "I never said you can't talk to her, now did it?"

you simply nod, afraid that your voice will betray you. He wasn't satisfied, he needed a verbal answer.

"Use your words, woman."

"Yes." Your voice cracked, tears gathering in the corner of your eye. He smiled.

"Good, I was beginning to think that it was because you feared me." he chuckled, letting go of your chin. You quickly hung my head low, slipping a few tears before wiping them away. God, how could someone be cruel?

"Well, Of course, you should fear me." he paused, drinking his whiskey from the glass he once set earlier. "After all, you are indebted to me." His cold tone made you shiver, effectively making you freeze.

You could feel his eyes boring into you. "Remember who you should fear." you didn't want to look at him. No, you could never look at him, especially in this state. He will use your fear against you, to manipulate you. That's the kind of man Desmond is. 

This was a loveless marriage you wished to get away from.

You heard his shoe clank on the floor, before hearing the door open and shut. Upon looking around the study, you took a breath you once held. Your hands are now sweaty with anxiety, and your forehead has a thin layer of sweat. You allowed yourself to slouch onto the chair, putting your hands on your face, masking away the tears forming in your eyes.

You hated this.

Aera didn’t think she could do it. It honestly surprised her that she managed to drag her feet willingly to Larissa’s house. She was initially thinking about going through her office, but making a scene will cause her trouble.

Her fingertip came in contact with the doorbell and patiently waited for the older woman to show up. As soon as she heard the rattling sound of the door hinge, she braced herself for her appearance. They haven't seen each other for four years, ever since you and Larissa broke up. Seeing her again brought back a bittersweet taste on her tongue.

When Larissa opened the door, she saw Aera standing there, clutching the strap of her bag so hard that it’ll leave a wrinkle. She hasn’t had visitors in a while, and her appearance didn’t suit her liking. She knows that she holds a grudge for what she did, she couldn’t blame her. She would too if she were in her position.

“Aera.” She stated.

“We need to discuss something.” She said, narrowing her eyes at her. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” she stepped aside, letting the shorter woman enter her home before closing the doors. “Do you want coffee or tea?” She offered. She knew she was still mad at her, but she at least wanted her to feel comfortable, even for a moment.

“No thanks, I don’t plan to stay for long.” She said it sternly, but her actions hinted that she was getting impatient and wanted to get straight to the point. She made herself comfortable on the couch as Larissa followed her, sitting across the agitated woman.

“Okay then, What do you want to talk about?” She shifted in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position for her. Larissa’s head hung low, keeping her eyes on her hands as she fiddled with them.

Aera noticed. The way she fidgets with her hands, the way she looks more tired and frail over the years, the bags under her eyes become visible, the way that stupid necklace is still locked inside her neck with that stupid ring of hers. Not wanting to beat around the bush, she cleared her throat.

“Help Y/N.” As soon as she heard your name, she perked up. She wishes she didn’t but her body betrayed her will. “What do you mean?”

“Help Y/N get out of that loveless marriage she is having with that bastard.” she gritted her teeth, gripping the cushion she is sitting on right now. She didn’t want to ask for her help, but she knew Desmond is a powerful man, and between him and her, she could end up losing the life she had built for herself. While she was powerless, she knew Larissa had some power in her status. She hated herself for reaching out, but she had no choice. The way you looked afraid after meeting up with her, afraid of his wrath. She had no choice but to seek help.

Hearing her words, her head snapped forward, finally facing Aera. A sea of emotions flood through her. She thought you were finally happy with someone, and that you finally found someone to love. Her heart breaks, never in those four years of being separated removed you from her mind. Every day, she had always thought of you. Think about what you are doing, how have you been, or if you already have a child. She didn’t expect you to get hurt again, not after she had hurt you. She felt her eyes swell up with tears.

“Ever since she’s been married to Desmond Salvatore, Desmond practically isolated her in his home. He manipulated her to push everyone — even me.” Her eyes stung with tears as she pointed at herself. “It’s been almost a year since I last saw her. And upon seeing her again today, she was beyond scared, almost as if Desmond is following every step she makes.” She wiped the tears she shed as she hid in her hand.

“So for the love of God, help her then maybe it’ll atone for the pain you’ve caused.” she flinched at the harsh tone she used. Deep down, she desperately wants to see you, to know if you are still okay.

“I will.” Larissa narrowed her eyes at her, keeping an uncomfortable time staring at each other. She was determined to save you from that jerk, the jerk she believed will treat you with everything you deserve. She hated herself for putting you in this situation. Because to be frank, it was her fault for neglecting you and driving you away.

“Where does she live?”

She’ll make things right. She promised.

You heard the doorbell ring, you looked up curiously. It was unusual to receive visitors, especially since your husband is away. Pushing away the thought one of the maids ran to the door and opened it to see who it was. 

As the maid opened the door, she was met with an unfamiliar yet familiar woman. She knew her as the Headmistress of the Nevermore Academy, but she knew the Man in the house did not have any business with an outcast like her. She also familiarizes her with one of the stories you’ve told, about a particularly tall woman with blonde, almost white hair and that charming smile. 

“Can I help you with anything?” she asked cautiously.

Larissa tensely smiled. “Yes, I believe Y/N Salvatore lives here?” She asked, even though she knew the answer. 

You got curious, wondering why the maid is taking so long. Curiosity gets the best of you, it gets you in a lot of trouble. Upon close inspection, you saw the maid in front of the door. The familiar dress made you pause, hoping this isn’t true, wishing that this is just a dream. This is a dream. This. Is. A. Dream.

You finally looked up at the person, and you finally saw her. After years without seeing each other, it made you yearn for her. You hated how much she still affects you, you hated how much she could just show up after the torment she had put you. You hated how beautiful she is after all these years. You wanted to scream, to throw a tantrum at her. You wanted to hurt her. You want to hurt her as she hurt you. This is unfair.

“Y/N…” Her voice is laced with concern, seeing you again made her feel something, something familiar. 

“Y/N, can we talk?” She asked.

The maid in the middle of the both of you debated whether she should get rid of the woman, or let her in. she looked at you, practically asking you to give her some sort of order. You stood still, this is now a one-time opportunity that you worry if you reject, you’d regret for the rest of your life. You sighed deeply, finally looking at the maid.

“Please leave us be, Bella.” You gave the older woman a tired smile. You could tell she was conflicted, you walked over to her and placed your hand on top of hers before nodding slightly. It gave enough reassurance before leaving the both of you.

When the maid left, your eyes were now glued to the floor. “Come in.” your voice was a mere whisper and insisted she follows you. She gently closes the door and soon follows you into the corridor. She looked around the walls, the picture frames, and the paintings. She noticed the states that the maids had given her, it was like they were judging her severely.

Once both of you entered the study, her eyes fell on the big picture frame in the middle above the fireplace. It was you in one of your fancy dresses, she guessed your Desmond bought it for you. You sat still in the chair while Desmond stood, hand behind your back. It made her sick.

“Why are you here?” Your voice is laced with anger, turning around to the woman who is still staring at the photo that you loathed.

She then looked at you. Seeing what's inside of you, what you hide, what you seek, what you’ve been longing for. That's how she looked at you. It made you feel exposed.

“Leave him.”

“Leave who?”

“Don’t play dumb Y/N. Leave that bastard. That bastard you now call husband.” Her anger is spilling, she looked at you more with determination. You’ve never seen her like this, you’ve never seen her so worked up. She was getting furious, not to you, but to him.

“I cannot leave my husband.” you weakly said, keeping your eyes on her.

She scoffed at your blindness. She knows you can see the terrible things Desmond has done, but she doesn’t understand why you’d choose to stay. Just tell me, she thought. Tell me what you need. 

She hits you with a question that makes you tear up, almost wanting to hunch back and sob. “Do you love him?” she asked.

You do not love him. You would never love him. He loathes you, you hated him. Nothing in this marriage is fair. This is a loveless, hateful marriage. You hated him. You wanted to tell her that you hated him, that you wanted to run away.

“I love him…” Your voice betrayed you, wanting to kick yourself mentally. You never wished to hesitate, but it was all too much. You hated how much you are showing to the woman you once loved. But then again, did you really stop loving her? You wanted to love him, you really tried. But he made it clear from the start. You were nothing but a nuisance.

“You’re lying.”

“I am not.”

“Leave him.” she insists. She never once raised her voice, or accused you of anything, it made you think about what changed her. “I cannot leave.” You emphasized. It was getting harder to breathe. She can see it, the way you clutched your chest, the way she saw the glisten of a thin layer of sweat on your forehead.

“Please tell me why.” She pleads. She wants to hold you, embrace you and protect you. But knowing you, it’ll only feel like she’s caging you.

“Because I am indebted to him.” You silently sobbed, holding everything in was all too much. You sobbed your heart out whilst keeping your voice inside. Ever since being with Desmond, you learned to cry silently. It became a habit.

You hugged yourself as you gripped your shoulders too hard. Surely it’ll leave a mark. “My father loaned money for me to live. Now that he is gone, I am now indebted to him.” You finally meet her gaze, and finally, notice her changes. Her face suddenly got thin, emphasizing the hollow space in her cheeks. Her clothes look slightly bigger to her. The bags under the eyes were now visible. Even her lipstick has changed, going for a darker red rather than the red she usually wore. Your eyes landed on her neck, specifically, the ring on her necklace. You wondered if it had always been there before, or that she found another woman to love. It confused you. You hated how much of an effect she had on you.

“Do you get it now? I cannot leave—”

A beat. It made you freeze. “And you never will.”

You looked at him with wide eyes, fearing him. He heard you, he heard your conversation. What's worse is that he had caught you talking with your ex. “Leave us, Simon.” As much as your butler hated it, he left the three of you to unfold what’s gonna happen.

“Now.” his voice laced with venom, making you flinch. You clenched your fist together and bit your lower lip which will surely bruise later on. “Why on earth are you here, Weems?” Your instinct was said to protect her. You don’t know why. It was like your heart decided for you, and not your head.

“–She was just about to leave!” You interrupted Larissa before she managed to utter a word. Before she can interject, you manage to grab her hand and lead her through the door. You pushed Larissa away from your study, and with your frantic movement and teary gaze, you plead for her to leave. “Leave now. Please leave.” you plead before hearing your husband call your name.

“I need a word with my wife.” He suddenly appeared beside you, hand firmly gripping your waist, making you wince in pain. Avoiding her protest, Desmond roughly guided you back into the study.

She hesitated, before seeing the man called Simon from earlier. She noticed his worried feature. She now noticed how the house seemed tense, almost as if they knew what was gonna happen. He paced around, his hands fiddled in anticipation, but he couldn’t do anything other than hear the moment unfold.

Suddenly, he was broken out of his reverie when the tall woman he once saw beside you walked up to her with haste. He gathered his composure quickly and bowed to the taller woman. “Call the police.” He froze at her words, he looked at her and saw how watery her eyes are. He saw how desperate she was to save the lady in this house. He felt a sense of respect for her.

“Understood.” He quickly fled the corridor, sprinting as he look for a phone to make a call. Larissa stood there, thinking about what she should do next. Should she waits for the police to arrive? Or Should she barge into the doors? Her thoughts racked her mind, standing in the middle of the halls. But the sound of the glass shatter in the study room, where you and Desmond are, made her snap out of her reverie. Without thinking, her feet dragged her towards the study and busted open the door.

She couldn’t forget the look on your face, crawling backward to get away from Desmond. The fear plastered in your eyes was unbearable to look at, the way you shook your head continuously, making up words she can’t even hear anymore. Desmond holds a broken red wine bottle, dripping with leftover red wine. If someone saw this scene, you’d think it's blood. If she was to wait for the police, it would all be too late, and she would break the promise she made to herself.

So, she chose the latter.

“You are a disgrace. Choosing the woman who once hurt you. Are you that much of a whore?” His laughter bombarded the whole study. His voice was loud enough for at least someone to hear him. That was her last straw. She couldn’t take it anymore, the insults, the death stares, and now this. She grabbed the nearby vase on the pedestal and ran toward where Desmond slowly inched away from you. Desmond was too focused on you that he didn’t notice Larissa with a vase in hand.

She lifted the vase. Then, Desmond sensed her presence, she looked behind him. The look she gave him made Desmond… afraid. It made his knees weak, it was a look that no one dared to give him up until now, it almost looks like a killer look. Larissa looked at him with pure spite, pure hatred. She gripped the vase hard, almost cracking it. Before Desmon could even react, Larissa had smashed the vase on his head, breaking it into pieces as he fall onto his knees.

He couldn’t comprehend what happened, his head pounded so loudly, it made his ears bleed. He was on his knees as he gripped his head where he was hit, he felt something wet and thick. Looking at his hand, he saw his own blood painting his hand. While Desmond was preoccupied with himself, Larissa had run onto your shaking figure, whispering nothing but pleas and mercy.

“Darling, come with me, I’ll get you out of here.” She changed her whole demeanor as if she was now a different person to you. You trembled upon seeing that just happened, you were afraid, but not to her. Something about her made you lose your fear, maybe the way she used her voice? The tone? Her gentle eyes? Her soft hands? You don’t know anymore. You don’t want to know anymore.

You want to take her hand, but you were too paralyzed to do so. But she was patient, it was something you were glad she hasn’t changed about herself. You nearly missed the way Desmond picked himself up, grabbing the broken wine bottle beside him. You felt your fear spike up again, the urge to push this woman away from this. This is your problem, she shouldn’t be here, she shouldn’t be in this mess to begin with. This is your problem, yours only.

She should have just left you alone, then maybe, she won’t witness you like this.

You pushed her away, creating a gap between you as Desmond swung the wine bottle in between you. You missed the way your heart skipped a beat, you nearly stopped breathing. You crawled away before he could swing it again, now facing you. But before it could hit you, Simon grabbed his wrist, twisting it at an unusual angle, while he grabbed his other wrist and put it behind his back. Desmond screamed in pain, dropping the wine bottle right before you. 

You heard the siren from the police nearby gradually getting louder and louder. “What is the meaning of this, Simon?” He yelled demandingly, screaming like a maniac. His eyes grew wide. He was livid, mad. You feared that Simon would get hurt, or anyone for that matter. You never want anyone to go through this. “Simon!” You yelled.

“That’s enough torment to lady Y/N.” He said. This was the side you never saw in him. He was kind, always with a smile. This side was something different. Before Desmond could do any more damage, the police finally rounded him. When the police pointed the gun at him, telling him to put his hand up, you felt a wave of relief wash over you. You finally allowed yourself to breathe freely. You know that it is not truly over, but you wanted to feel free, at least for a moment.

“Desmond Salvatore, you are under arrest.” You recognize the voice. Looking up where you sat, Sheriff Galpin emerged through the door, holding his gun up and a handcuff in his other hand. Simon let go of him as the police took over, putting the handcuffs behind Desmond. “No, this isn’t right, the real lunatic here is her!” he pointed at Larissa, who, at the time, was gathering the strength to stand up. She didn’t dare to speak, not because she was guilty of the wound she gave Desmond. She only stared at him, she was calm — almost too calm. It was unsettling, even for you. Desmond clicked his tongue as she stared at Larissa for too long, towering at her height. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he felt intimidated by her.

He snapped his neck toward your frail figure, and he ran toward you but failed to do so. Fortunately, Sheriff Galpin had caught him in the act and pulled him back immediately, not only that, Larissa had stepped between the space you had between him. “Tell them, Y/N! Tell them that she’s the fucking lunatic.” His remarks made you jolt, flinching at his harsh words. The Sheriff had pushed him out of the study, nodding at Larissa before sending Desmond away for a long time. She finally sighed as she felt the room become more spacious, finally able to breathe for a while.

Turning around to see you still on the floor, long lost in your reverie. She hunched down, eyeing your eyes. She only sees fear, it was somehow the same fear you had when she had lashed out four years ago. Using her fingernails to tap on the floor, making her presence noticeable. “Can you stand?” You only shook your head, feeling the adrenaline rush through you, you were afraid that if you tried to stand up, you’d just fall.

“Allow me.” Simon butted in, gently taking your hands and lifting you up. You were shaken up at this point, not knowing what to do. “Let’s take you to your bedroom.” His soft gentle voice made you ease your racing heart, following him as he guided you into your bedroom. Larissa stayed behind, watching closely your interaction with him. She watched in awe, awe at how much people care for you. As soon as the three of you had stepped out of the study, a horde of maids gathered around, checking up on your condition.

“Oh, Mrs. Y/N.” Bella’s voice managed to get through the crowd, looking at the damage that Desmond has caused right before her eyes. “Let her through.” She said irritatedly. Once those words left her mouth, the maid made way for you to get through. You thanked them silently, but you wished you could have worded it better.

Just before Larissa could join you upstairs to your bedroom, Bella had called her in. “Ms. Weems.”

Larissa turned around. She noticed that she held out a tray with the first aid kit box, A jar of water, and a glass. Her expressions were something Larissa couldn’t read. She drew her lips thin as the older woman inched closer the tray towards her, indicating that she should take it. “It seems like Mrs. Y/N needs you more than us.” Then, Larissa saw a small, yet kind smile from the older woman, her worries ease. She slowly took the tray. She glanced at the woman who have this… relief on her face. Or was it something else? She couldn’t decipher.

“Thank you.” She excused herself, making her way up the stairs to go to your room. In the corner of her eye, she saw Simon entering one of the rooms down the hall through the left, she guessed it was your room and headed towards it. The first sight she sees is the big window illuminating the dark red curtains. She noticed how your bed was made, the same way you made your bed every time she visits. She sees you sitting on the edge of the bed, back facing toward her. Simon had draped the curtains on the side, letting the sunlight shines. As Simon turned around, he saw Larissa holding a tray with the first aid kit needed and water.

He smiled in her direction before leaving the room.

Larissa slowly made her way toward you, fear and anxiety slowly creeping up on her body. She set the tray on your bedside table and grabbed the nearby chair to face you. “... Can I see your face?” She hesitated, looking into your hands fidgeting. Right before she could say something again, you had shown your face to her, now staring at her eyes. She couldn’t form any words, she only stared at you.

She searched your face, neck, and neck for any clear signs of injury. She did, however, found a few bleeding cuts on your arm and legs, guessing from when Desmond had shattered the glass. She quickly cleaned each cut gently, putting petroleum jelly and covering it with a bandaid whilst looking at you, silently asking for your consent.

She finally looked up, finishing covering the wound you have on your knee when she noticed your eyes drifting away from somewhere, staring at something. She followed your eyes, only to find that you’d been staring at the ring she has on her neck. She felt her shoulder stiff, unconsciously grabbing the right and fiddling with it whilst you continue to stare at it.

“What’s with the ring?” you murmured, pointing out the right from her neck before looking at her with hesitant eyes. Did she really find someone better? But if she did, where are they?

“Your thoughts are quite loud.” She breathlessly chuckled, already knowing what was going through your mind by reading your eyes change. The way your pupils change, or when you subtly bit the bottom lip of yours. You chuckled alongside her, finding it amusing how she can still read you. “This is…” She hesitated before looking at you. Taking a deep breath and gathered the courage to say it.

It’s now or never.

This is supposedly the ring I was gonna propose to you.” She muttered the last part, she thought you didn’t hear it, but the way your eyes widen by surprise, jaw slacked, almost open — she knew you had heard her. “I’m sorry.” She said, taking your hand.

“I’m so sorry that I hurt you.” Her voice cracked, tears gathering in her eyes, and gently caressed your thumb. You had your head low, meaning she couldn’t see your face. Part of her wants to know how you reacted, how you comprehend it. But, another part of her wants to keep your face hidden within her reach, she doesn’t want the same thing to repeat over again. She noticed how your chest rises up rapidly while trying to maintain it at the same time, and your shoulder is rigid, trembling every time you breathe.

“I can’t…” you said. “I can’t trust you anymore.” you cried out, waves of emotions hits you like an ocean, trying to get to the surface to breathe only to be hit with another large wave, pulling you away from the surface. “I just can’t.”

“... Will you let me?”

“Let you what?” You asked, barely a whisper anymore.

“Will you let me show you that you can trust me?” She let her tears slip.

You shook your head, retracting the hand that once held hers, “I don’t trust myself enough to pull away when I needed to.” you explained as best as you can without your hiccups breaking off what you were saying.

She understands. If she was in your shoes, she wouldn’t either. But she was deeply, madly crazy for you. She wanted to try again. She wants to wait for you, at least for you to trust her once more. She will try again and again. She wants to give you the life you have deserved once more. She does not want to fuck up as she did.

“I'm not demanding you to trust me, I am asking you. I want you to know that you have a choice in this. Then, will you let me show you that you can trust me again?”

Maybe some part of you wished she’d keep pushing. Pushing the thought of trusting her again — of course, it’ll take time. She knew that. She knew that there will be a chance when you’d trust her again, and there will be one where you won’t — leaving her. She was willing to make that chance. It was her decision.

You didn’t say anything for the rest of the day. You let Larissa take care of you, nurture you back. You didn’t say anything, you knew deep inside, you were willing you let her show you.

© 𝐋𝐔𝐕-𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐃 - all rights reserved. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate. please ask me first then credit me once you shared my work to other platforms.

[hopelessdelusional]

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。.

I wish you would come back

Wish I never hung up the phone like I did

And I wish you knew that

I’ll never forget you as long as I live

And I wish you were right here right now

It’s all good

Living in downtown LA has had many pros, especially for you and your friends careers. There were plenty of jobs, communities, and just life opportunities as well. You have enjoyed living in LA a hell of a lot more than your home state, just full of fun and exciting possibilities.

But the heat? The heat made you regret even stepping foot in this city.

You wanted to at least look approachable, wearing your most comfortable shoes, brown cargo shorts, a black tank top and one of Shoto’s old flannels. You put on some makeup, wanting to fit in with the people who will soon be filling up the area.

When you first arrived to the area, you were immediately greeted with an older man smiling from ear to ear thanking you for all of your hard work. You let out a sigh of relief and humbly told him it was a breeze. His assistant, who couldn’t have been more than 20 years old, handed you a clipboard with a packet of papers. Flipping through the papers, you realized you had zoned out the high pitch droning that was the assistance’s voice, making you cringe when she paused to stare at you.

“I’m sure you’re used to this though,” she awkwardly laughed, looking away embarrassed. The worst part about what she had said was that it was true. You had been given so many gigs and jobs in LA, this honestly was nothing. Try helping plan pride, now that was the most difficult thing you had done in a while.

“No one ever gets used to this job, but I think that’s why I love it so much. Always a new task coming at ya.” A part of you wasn’t lying when you said that, you honestly did enjoy a new task. A new problem that you could get your hands on and really think about and solve. The relaxed smile that you received from the younger woman did make you feel better, and she was soon waving goodbye walking to another person around her age. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You had put so much effort into working out a good schedule for all the gigs. Talking to so many managers and workers, and you had done so much research on all the performers tonight. You were ready, all of your friends were coming and you were safe. All you had to do was ignore the pain in your stomach and head, and keep moving.

And keep moving you did, because that’s all you found yourself doing. A good amount of people came up to you and made small talk, especially the workers. You had to go backstage and double check with the performers and managers about the photos you were going to take, many wanting to take professional pictures before the performance. A lot of them had very specific details for when you would take the photos, pushing your patience level but you would just smile and agree.

Time flew by quickly. Gig after gig, shot after shot the sun started to go down and the crowds started to get up. The more popular bands play later at night, so that’s when the more people started to flood in. You quite literally had to push your way through the crowd, flashing your badge at the people pissed at you to get your way to the stage. A lot of the performers wanted a shot from the crowd, which you really tried to come up with excuses for that but you were always quickly shut down. Being stuck in a crowd of sweaty LA people was not your definition of a fun afternoon, but the check was big enough for you to let it go.

As you taking a break at a (air conditioned) bar and mentally planning your next shopping trips with the girls, you were caught off guard with a violent poke in your ribcage.

Your head swung in the direction of the attack and was surprised to see Tenya and Ochako beaming at you. Ochako had her iconic pink skirt and a white tank top with a simple strawberry on it. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail and her face was covered in glitter. Tenya was just wearing regular white cargo pants, but what made you smile was that he was wearing a pink polo shirt. He smiled at you knowingly, squeezing Ochako’s waist before letting her go to let her hug you. In her typical fashion, she tackled you in a hug and blabbered in your ear, just making you giggle uncontrollably. Unfortunately for you when she squeezed you it made your stomach pain worse, making you groan a little louder than you wanted to.

Ochako immediately broke away, a worried expression replacing her bright smile. Tenya also raced to your side as you felt the pain go back down, not all gone but manageable.

“What was that? Did I hurt you n/n?”

“Are you okay y/n? You’re not drinking right now are you? The doctor strictly said no drinking-“

“Guys,” you forced a laugh through your throbbing headache and swatted them away, frantically coming up with an excuse. “It’s just a period cramp.”


Immediately the couple’s shoulders relaxed as Ochako put her hand on her chest and took a breather. Tenya very seriously asked you if you needed anything, to which you quickly shut him down on and tried to change the topic.

Changing the topic was actually pretty easy with Ochako. She is very ADHD, her mind always all over the place. Not that you could say anything, as you found yourself being the same.

“Like literally a goth clown. I was like, ‘in this heat?’ But I swear to god top to bottom clown attire, just goth! Tell her Tenya!”

Tenya chuckled, nodding along and went more into detail. You smiled fondly at your friends, bathing in their energy. You needed this, seeing your friends was going to help you get through the day.

“Yeah people are pretty crazy here,” you turned your head to look out into the crowd. A part of you found yourself searching for those ash blond locks that you were all too familiar with. He said he’d be here for Jirou’s concert, having to finish up a shoot for the day so the texting has been down to a minimum. You couldn’t help but get nervous just thinking about seeing him. You felt so stupid, he was so magnetic, you couldn’t get away from this guy. Everything screamed at you to put distance between the two of you, but as cheesy as it sounds, your heart wanted nothing more than to feel his arms wrap around you once more.

“I’ve had a lot of people come up to me when I check over my work after taking a couple of shots of the performer. They typically ask me to take a picture of them. Most of them offer money but some of them don’t and I think that’s what gets me.”

The three of you chatted up some more, enjoying your break with the couple, but soon you had to get back to work. You said your goodbyes to them and jogged over to the stage once again.

The field had so many other booth set up, which was a huge difference from the last year. Now, there were plenty of local restaurant owners setting up booths, along with ice cream shops, and even certain activities you’d see at the fair. You appreciated all the hard work that was going into this, and felt prideful that you are apart of this.

“Y/n! Oh my god guys its Y/n!”

You slowed your jog down to the group that was in front of you. Mina, Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and another person that you had not met yet, but by the looks of it was Sero’s new partner Jordan. You had seen him in Kaminari and Sero’s videos, always noticing a different tension between the two whenever they interacted. When you brought it up to the rest of the group they immediately started talking about how they met in college and have been obsessed with each other since. According to Mina last night when she interrupted your call with Katsuki, Sero was up all night trying to figure out some big grand way to ask him out. Eventually it was 4AM and Sero just left the house, picked up some flowers, and went to Jordan’s house and confessed. Hearing the story melted your heart, and for a split second, you imaged Katsuki doing the same to you.

“Hey guys! Everyone enjoying themselves?”

The group all had giant smiles on their faces. They honestly looked very put together for the event that they were at, but that’s was just LA for you. Mina definitely had something to do with Kirishima’s outfit, because for once it wasn’t an entire outfit made out of athletic clothing. He had on gray, jogger-like shorts, but it matched nicely with the oversized Tupac muscle t-shirt. Mina had the same vibe, wearing a cotton nike crop top with jean shorts. She had her hair back with a headband and in a ponytail, which still showed off her beautiful pink curls. You noticed that the couple had matching bracelets, simple gold chains but with half of a heart hanging from them. Another sickly sweet couple think that made your mind flash with possibilities.

Kaminari was actually wearing a crop top from Jirou’s merch line, and black jean shorts which fit the black and purple tie-dyed shirt he had on. Meanwhile, Sero was wearing gray sweatpants and one of those compress shirts you’re like 99% sure he stole from Katsuki’s closet decked out in all sorts of jewelry. Black studs in his ears, silver simple layered necklaces, and a variety of different and colorful bracelets. Lastly, Jordan looked very cute in black cargo shorts and a vintage Dr Pepper shirt that you just had to ask where he got it from later.

“Hell yeah we are! The music is fire! Banger after banger, dude.”

Kirishima’s wide smile was contagious, making you grin in response. Mina looked lovingly at her partner, before looking in your direction.

“You’re good though right? I hate to be that person but Katsuki mentioned you being overwhelmed recently.”

The rest of the group now looked at you with worried expressions, which made you wave them off and smile politely.

“Trust me it wasn’t this gig stressing me out, just my other jobs I took.”

Kaminari’s jaw dropped, making Sero bust out laughing. Sero leaned into the crook of Jordan’s neck, laughing into his partner as they watched him with a soft expression on their face.

“Jobs? As in plural? I mean no wonder you’re fucking tired.”

The group all made pokes at Kaminari’s comment, and you chatted for a couple minutes before having to cut down the conversation short. You were actually able to get Jordan’s number so he could tell you how to get that type of shirt and more. Happily, you quickly hugged all of them before making your way back stage.

“There’s my favorite photographer! I was wondering where you were at.”

Kyouka embraced you in a hug as she greeted you, Momo quickly following to do the same. She grabbed your face and examined you, making you raise an eyebrow at her motherly actions. Kyouka just giggled shrugged at you when you shifted your gaze towards her.

She eventually let go, huffing as she did so.

“You look like you’re seconds away from collapsing y/n.”

Momo was very stern and serious, with her hands on her hips and eyebrows furrowed, but you just couldn’t get over on how cute she looked. Wearing a white baby tee with jorts, of all things, but she pulled it off like a model. Her long wavy hair was up in a ponytail, which was fed through her hat that she was wearing. She had her glasses on as well, making you just want to hug her and never let her go.

Kyouka on the other hand was a completely different look.

Her signature look was alternative, not exactly emo or goth. She was wearing small back shorts with fishnets and huge dock martins that you honestly had no idea how she performed in. With that, was a baggy purple tank top with another set of fish nets under, and of course her fingerless gloves. Her makeup was a consistent black and purple set of eyeshadow, eyeliner, and glitter, and her hair was back in a messy French braid. (Which was most likely the works of Momo, who was the boss at any sort of braid)

“Okay I think that’s a bit of a stretch Mo, besides the night is almost over and then I have three days off. I’ll be fine.”

You rubbed Momo’s shoulder to comfort her, which prompted her to hold your hand and smile gently at you. You returned the smile, then turned to Kyouka who was now talking to the guitarist.

She finished up the conversation quickly, and when they were out of earshot she let out a loud sigh.

“I swear to god why do people try to change the set list minutes before we perform?”

You laughed, completely understanding her frustrations with people.

“Yes, people are very complicated. That is why you’re my favorite customer, I know exactly what you like and you actually allow me to be creative with it.”

That seemed to lift Kyouka’s spirits, because she gave you one of her rare genuine smiles. The two of you hugged, and her and Momo shared a sweet kiss along with some banter before the singer went onto the stage. Instantly the crowd lit up, screaming at the top of their lungs, and you were able to catch the look of pure love in Momo’s eyes. You slowly backed up, and got a quick shot of her, which she surprisingly didn’t notice. Kyouka was going to love this picture, you just knew it.

The concert was a huge success. Your whole group was able to come together backstage after Kyouka performed. There, all of you enjoyed each other companies, as it has been a while since the eight of you had all hung out in a while. You got a couple of shots of your friends, just for your own personal scrapbook, before you felt your apple watch on your wrist start to blow up.

“Uh oh it’s the boyfriend.”

Hitoshi made his way towards you and tried to look at the many messages Katsuki had been sending you. You knew to move your wrist away and push him away, him just smirking at you the whole time.

“Not my boyfriend. But speaking of, where’s yours?”

Hitoshi’s eyes lit up in realization, and he groaned at you before saying his goodbyes to the group.

Izuku looked over at you laughing with furrowed eyebrows.

“What was all that about?”

Catching your breath, you answered with a huge smile.

“He promised to meet up with Kam after the concert.”

Quickly afterwards, you hugged your dearest friends and promised to make plans with them soon before going out into the half empty area.

The headache came back almost full force, slowing you down greatly but you ignored it as well as the stomach pain. You honestly had no idea as to why the pain wasn’t going away, it was almost like the pain meds were making it worse. However, you knew you had to pull it together so Katsuki didn’t freak out like your friends had been.

After a quick phone call, you found Katuki in a hat and hoodie. You grinned wildly, picking up your pace and embraced him in a tight hug.

“Woah you okay?”

Despite the comment he gladly hugged you back, making you have to pull away first.

“Yeah, long day. How are you?”

Like usual, conversation flowed naturally between the two of you. In fact, you were so relaxed that you when Katsuki bought you a drink you didn’t think twice. One more drink wasn’t going to kill you, maybe it would even help with the damn headache.

“Yeah, the festival was actually bearable this year, it was triple the size of last year so there wasn’t too many paparazzi or just randos taking my fucking picture.”

You snorted at his tone, being able to translate ‘bearable’ to ‘enjoyable.’

“They really outdid themself this year didn’t they? Actually, Kyou mentioned the same thing. She said it was a lot easier to get in.”

Katsuki nodded as he sipped on his bourbon, looking as beautiful as ever. For once, you let the “intrusive” thoughts win and brought your camera to your eye and snapped a picture. Immediately, Katsuki snapped his head in your direction with flames in his eyes. However, you were not intimidated, and bursted out in laughter. The only thing that got you to stop laughing so much was the stomach pain becoming increasingly worse. You slipped out a few “ouches” but Katsuki didn’t seem to notice.

When you straighten back up, trying your best not to grimace at the throb in your head, Katsuki gave you a look that translated perfectly to ‘what the fuck?’

You sighed, allowing yourself to relax and really look at Katsuki. That must had made him antsy, because you noticed he started to squirm in his seat uncomfortably in your serious gaze. Payback.

“You just look so good right now, wanted to take a picture.”

A rose red blush bloomed across his face, his eyebrows scrunching together like they always do when he’s frustrated. Before he could respond, however, the two of you jumped at an obnoxiously loud click sound. The two of you searched around you, and Katsuki was able to find the source first. He jumped up and immediately started cussing out the paparazzi. You watched, slowly sipping on your drink. The dude looked pretty young, and was scared shitless of Katsuki’s booming voice and intimidating build. It didn’t take much for him to run away from the blond, which made him make his way back to your seats.

“Sorry about that.” Katsuki mumbled, and you noticed he was genuinely embarrassed. You had honestly never seen him look so ashamed, so you reached out for his hand and when your hands made contact he looked back up at you with wide eyes.

Not knowing what to say, you hoped the smile you gave him was enough for him to understand. He grasped your hand in his, squeezing it, before letting go to grab his drink. The blush on his face was still noticeable, but not as cute as it was before.

“They’re probably gonna come up with some dumbass story about us dating or something.”

He was still mumbling, which really irritated you. Katsuki was never one to mumble, everything he said was loud and pronounced. He meant every word that came out of his mouth, so sure of himself. That’s honestly what drew you in, his command. Now he was fidgety and talking so quiet, you didn’t even know he could talk that quiet.

Instead of pointing it out, you just chuckled leaning back in your seat enjoying the sparkling stars above.

“Well that’s just a rumor, a very false rumor that will be long forgotten in less than a month.”

You felt Katsuki’s piercing gaze on you, so you shifted so you could make eye contact with him. There was uncertainty in his eyes, something you had never seen before. He was timid, but he also looked stern and serious.

“What are we y/n?”

There was a newfound ringing in your ears, and along with the pain, your stomach felt nauseous. You felt your mouth go dry, and your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. The maintained eye contact was eating you alive, only making these symptoms worsen.

Friends? You thought, but you knew, deep down, that wasn’t true. Deep deep down, you knew you were completely infatuated with the blond, wanting nothing more than to reach over this table and kiss him until you couldn’t breath. However, you could never admit to that. Admitting that outloud could ruin a lot of things right now. Not only your friendship with Katsuki, but possibly with Kaminari, Kirishima, Mina, Sero, and even Jordan. It would wreck you. You’ve worked so hard to maintain a good mental health, but you knew all that hard work would be long forgotten if things between you two would spiral. Mentally, you would spiral, putting you out of work for God knows how long.

No. You couldn’t admit to it. You didn’t care about those feelings you have for Bakugou Katsuki, you were not going to admit something like that.

“Katsuki.”

The tone in your voice was a warning, but of course that only challenged the blond even more.

“Because I know damn well we aren’t fucking friends.”

The words he chose were viscous, but you knew him. You knew he hid behind intense words and a deep voice.

“I don’t know what to tell you Katsuki-“

“Yes you do.”

His voice was louder, and that confidence and fight that you knew him so well of came back. The sudden outburst made your head throb, and you had to fight back a wince.

“You know that this? This is not some fucking friendship. But we sure as hell ain’t dating, so what are we y/n?”

A sigh fell out of your lips, mainly because of the increase in the negative feelings that you felt in your body. You couldn’t do this, not tonight, not when you felt like your whole body was going to burst.

“I’m sorry Kats, but we are just friends.”

Those words hurt when you said it, and you could tell Katsuki noticed it. The two of you kept this eye contact, but you felt your vision slip so you weren’t too focused on reading him.

“So your way of making friends is making out with them when your drunk and then after that maintaining a close relationship with them?”

“We were drunk-“

“That doesn’t mean shit, y/n.”

Katsuki was starting to get angry, you could tell. On any other day you would have shut him down. Yelled at him until your voice got hoarse, because he knew better than to snap at you like this, over something so unnecessary. But you couldn’t do that today, the exhaustion from the pain all day, along with mental and physical stress of the festival had defeated you entirely. You wanted nothing more than to just get up and walk away, but that wouldn’t be fair to Katsuki, so you stayed.

“Yes, it does. We got drunk, and because we’ve been single for way too long, we made out. After that we became close because of mutual interests and friends.”

At this point you felt like a parent talking to a child, but just like most children, Katsuki was having none of this.

“No, no y/n I’m not fucking stupid, and neither are you. That isn’t the whole story, there is something between us and I just can’t fucking figure out why you won’t do anything about that.”

He was standing now, making you look up at him. He was angry, sure, but you could tell there was more than that.

“Katsuki I don’t have to fucking explain myself-“

“Yes you do! Y/n you owe that to me. Why can’t we fucking date? Why can’t you be mine?”

There was a long pause between you two, the both of you holding your breath in dread and anticipation. You noticed the crack in his voice, only desperate to understand why you couldn’t just commit.

“I just, I can’t Kats. I’ve been through a lot recently and I don’t know what would happen.”

“What the fuck do you mean? Y/n, just stop beating around the bush! What aren’t you telling me?”

Growing annoyed, you rubbed a hand down your face, not caring about the delicate makeup you had put so much detail into this morning. You didn’t ever think he would snap at you like this, but you knew this conversation was coming. The more you called or hung out you felt him get more and more antsy, growing impatient of your currently platonic situation.

“I just have a lot on my plate and I have for a long time. I’m sorry but I just can’t risk a relationship.”

Katsuki just scoffed at your earnest tone, obviously hurt by your words. You saw his hands shaking, and the wave of nausea hit again.

“So-so what? So I’m just dead fucking weight to you? Do you even hear yourself right now?

You felt your heartbeat grow heavier, feeling that familiar feeling of anger making your blood practically boil. So you stood up too, ignoring the wave of fatigue that hit you and with as much energy as you could muster, you held your ground against the model.

“I did not fucking say that Kats and you know that. You know what I’m talking about, but your so wrapped up in your head you refuse to try and understand my position.”

“Position? Position?”

He’s walking away, a clear sign that his anger is starting to rise and he’s trying to control it. You just gave to be grateful that he’s still trying not to blow up at you, he cares about respects you enough not to do that. Katsuki quickly circles his way back to you, making eye contact again.

“I’m a human being, y/n. I understand pain and suffering, I understand hard times and being afraid. I also fucking care about you, and would be able to fucking take whatever bullshit you’re talking about. So the problem isn’t me not understanding your position, its you not wanting to deal with your emotions, because you’re a coward.”

There it is. There’s the harsh words you could see coming from a mile away. You knew he would say something like that, you knew it because it’s true, you are a coward. You didn’t want to face your problems a year ago and you don’t want to do it now. You drown yourself with work so you can avoid the real world, so you can forget about all of your mental and even physical health. You wanted to be angry with Katsuki, you wanted to fight back and argue until you won, but you couldn’t. There was no point.

You opened your mouth to say something anything, but you felt your breath go short. Slowly your surroundings started to spin, and you had to lean on a chair in order to keep your balance. All the pain and nausea started to hit you, and for a second you genuinely thought you were going to puke your guts out.

“Tch, that’s what I thought. Fucking hell.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Katsuki start to break. He leaned over and rubbed his face, not noticing the distress you were in. Because of the situation the two of you were in, you just wanted for him to home and sleep on it, and allow you to pass out on your bed.

“Look, y/n I’m sorry, I just-“

He sighed, struggling to find the words. You found focusing on his body language and tone helped distract you, so leaning on the chair you looked back up at him trying to look strong.

“I’m not trying to be a dickhead to you, I just need you to see this. I know I’m not crazy, but I’m crazy for you. What I said was harsh but I fucking meant it, I’m here for you godammit, so let me be.”

Finally he turned back to look at you, and you watched him as his face twisted in confusion

“What’s happening are you okay?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but at that exact moment your mouth went dry and you felt like you had just gotten hit in the head by a frying pan. It took you another moment to collect yourself. Katsuki tried to get closer to you but you refused to let him help you, so you moved away from him going to the other side of the chair.

“I just need to go home, I’m sorry Kats.” you slowly released your grasp from the chair and wobbled off, feeling your strength slip away with each step you took. You heard Katsuki call your name, and you would have felt fucking awful for leaving him alone, just standing there at the bar. You knew this hurt him, but you couldn’t think about anything because of the pounding in your head. Yes, this was stupid. You could have just asked for help, what was happening to you was not healthy, and you should have asked Katsuki to take you home. And yet, you couldn’t. You couldn’t let Katsuki see you like that. You wouldn’t ever let him pity you, ever let him think of you less. You tried to listen to what he had to say you really did, and most of it was true, but you didn’t want to give in. Not yet.

Somehow Hitoshi found you wondering and immediately knew something was wrong. Tears were streaming down your face and by the time his hands reached you, the ringing in your ears made you completely deaf. With your head spinning and the lack of energy you had in you, you felt your body double over. Slowly your hearing came back, but your eyes refused to stay in focus.

Before slipping into unconsciousness, you listened to a faint but familiar song playing from one of the nearby speakers.

You always knew how to push my buttons

You give me everything and nothing

This mad mad love makes you come running

To stand back where you stood

I wish you would, I wish you would

I wish you would, I wish you would

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。.

i wish you would

just a reminder the character Jordan is NOT mine but the lovely @kotoprincesa !! thank u so much for allowing me to use ur oc i love him sm🫶

LETS GOOOOOOOO PLOT PLOT PLOT this shit was a DOOZY bro how y’all feeling?? 🎤🎤 *grabs mic* well IM feeling fucking awesome like y’all this is so exciting omg are y’all excited??? bc IM excited!!!!!!

ANYWAYS (lol) as always if you have any questions or just wanna talk my inbox is open! have a great day y’all!

love ya!

fun facts! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

- it’s gonna take a while for the fans to adjust but they’ll come to love the new couple🫶🫶🫶

- toshi and kam wanna wait to release it but sero literally could NOT wait to post his partner :((((

- y/n zones out a LOT when they don’t wanna listen and it’s very noticeable

- ko and tenya are 100% the type of couple to do matching stuff and you CANNOT change my mind

- idk where the idea of a goth clown came from, it was like 2AM when i wrote this. maybe that’s just like an inner demon of mine or smth

- mina had to fight kiri to wear actual clothes he was pouting like a baby and the rest of the squad was just watching giggling

- but of course once he put everything on he LOVED it and couldn’t stop kissing mina (that’s what made the gang walk away in “disgust”)

- Kaminari in crop top supremacy🛐

- sero LOVES him some jewelry and Jordan noticed and started making little bracelets for him (sobs)

- they for sure have matching spider-man pjs

- i CANNOT and WILL NOT get enough of momo and jirou like HELLO?

- but can we talk abt the SHIT yn had gone thru for this festival like😭😭 the poor thing is getting abused just for the good shot

- hitoshi is such an ass but he’s even MORE forgetful

- kam was pouting when he was late and had to make it up to him by cuddles and junk food (as one does)

- i fucking hate paps man

- so does kats

- i don’t rlly wanna do a fun fact on their fight so….

- hitoshi has like a spidey-sense when it comes to yn’s danger LMFAO

←Prev˚✧ Next→

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ updates every wednesday and sunday! happy wildest dreams wednesday ✧.*

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ TAGLIST IS OPEN just message or comment: @lovelytayy @0anodite0 @bakugouswh0r3 @amethyst123 @nijirosz @dabis-vigilnate-girl @allnamesredacted @ch3rryhaze @ectoplasmictoast @cathwritestragediesnotsins @tati-the-fangirl @autumnfay @call-me-prodigy @chuugarettes @sammyam @kotoprincesa @bubblewordsofsodapop @biggestbeequeen @tqnk @el-hart

[ashyyslashy]

Deal: Cobb Vanth x Fem!Reader Pt. 4

Part Three

After an unexpected absence, the sexual and romantic tension between you and Vanth finally comes to a head.

warnings: language, sexual material: p in v sex, oral (f! receiving), improper use of a bacta pod

word count: 3,170

A sense of guilt settled in your stomach. As you eased your way through the passage leading to the Modifier’s workroom, you weren’t completely sure that Vanth would be waiting for you on the other side. It was the longest you’d gone without visiting him. You hated that your life had grown too chaotic for the person whom you most looked forward to seeing. This hecticness was evidenced by the fact that you were even still scantily clad in your work clothes- you’d nicked a client’s oversized coat and draped it over yourself to avoid the embarrassment. 

You could barely bring yourself to crawl, rather unceremoniously, onto the workroom floor.

“Vanth?” you called before you'd even had a chance to scan the room for him.

You immediately saw that the bacta pod was empty for the first time in weeks. Your eyes roved up the Marshal’s unfamiliarly upright body as he stood before it. He was slumped back, arms crossed tightly across his chest. He must have heard you coming in. Everything about his posture appeared deeply guarded. 

“Yeah?” he said gruffly. 

You charged towards him and enveloped him in a hug without thinking twice about it. His scent drifted into your nose: sharp and metallic, distinctly sterile. You caught a slight undertone of a generic aftershave. He stiffened, his arms unfurling to half-heartedly wrap around you. His touch sent chills across your body. 

You pulled back, beaming.

“You’re. . . Wow.”

“Yeah,” he repeated. 

Your smile quickly dropped. It was clear that ignoring the elephant in the room wasn't an option.

“Fuck- Vanth, I know. I’m sorry.”

“How was I supposed to know you were even going to come back?”

His voice was raw with emotion you'd never seen from him before. 

“I know. You didn't,” you acquiesced, your voice breaking.

He shook his head in disbelief. “This last week was the hardest one yet, Eve. And I thought I'd have you to get me through it.” 

“Vanth, I wanted to be there. Please. I can’t be sorry enough.”

“I think I deserve an explanation, then, at the very least,” he replied, his voice wavering. 

You stepped forward, grabbing his hands in yours. He stared down at you apprehensively. 

“Yes. You do.” You let out a sigh. “I had a really big job, with an infamously high-maintenance client. A sort of week-long entertainment venture. It’s an opportunity that I was never going to get again. Best pay I’ve ever been offered the whole time I’ve been in this line of work.” 

You paused, but he remained still. 

“Now that I say it, all of that doesn’t even matter. I wish I hadn't taken it. I promise you. You are much, much more important to me than money. I’m sorry for being so selfish.” You forced the words out, tears welling in your eyes. 

His face softened slightly.

“There’s no way you could have told me this?”

You shook your head profusely.

“I promise you, I had no time. He’s very specific about the schedule and all that shit- you know I would have told you if I could have. Or. . . I hope you believe me when I say I would have.”

He breathed out a long sigh.

“You’re not selfish. You're not indebted to me, and this was a huge opportunity for you. I’m glad you took it. I overreacted.”

“No, no, you didn’t,” you protested. “I told you I’d keep showing up for you, and I didn't. You have a right to be really fucking mad at me.”

You dug your nails into his palms, afraid of letting him go.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I shouldn't have gotten so fixated on you coming to spend time with me. You have a life,” he answered brusquely. “I got in the way of it, because I needed… someone there so badly.”

“Stop,” you said, exasperated. “Stop trying to make it seem like I don’t give a shit about you. If I didn’t care about you, Vanth, I wouldn't have looked back. I would have just shrugged off that whole first night as a weird story.”

“Okay.”

He was silent for a moment, contemplating his next words.

“I just can't shake the idea that you pity me.”

You let out an involuntary groan of frustration, dropping his hands and taking a step back. 

“Pity you? Maker- Why would I have been making eyes at you for weeks if I pitied you? I like you, Vanth.” 

“I’ve never been insecure, never doubted when women said that,” he replied, his voice uncharacteristically soft and unstable. “But I’m having a really hard time imagining what you could have seen in me these past few weeks.”

“You think I’m that shallow?”

“No- I don’t know!” His voice was defeated. “I just feel like I lost a part of my dignity along with everything else.”

The pain etched on his face caused your anger to quickly evaporate. Without a second thought, you moved towards him in a few rapid strides and took his face in your hands. 

“I didn’t know you before, Vanth, but I don’t think you lost a damn thing about yourself.”

He tilted his face closer to you, nestling his nose against yours. You closed your eyes, and you felt his lips tentatively brush against your forehead. They traveled down the side of your face, before sealing your mouth in a feather-light kiss.

“Come on. You can do better than that,” you murmured against his mouth. 

He laughed quietly, shaking his head. But his lips pressed against yours, with force this time. His tongue teased its way in, and you were grasping his hair for support as you kissed him with a wild fervor. He held your waist in an iron grip.

The kiss was sloppy, warm, an exploration in unfamiliar territory. You sensed his hands hovering downward, his gentlemanly instincts preventing him from going any further. You took it upon yourself to rid him of any pretenses, grabbing his hands and moving them to cup your ass. He started slightly in surprise, before eagerly clutching the flesh. 

Soon, you had him backed up against the bacta pod. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and he grunted in pain.

“Fuck. I forgot.”

“Nah, you’re okay, doll. I’m just still getting used to it.” 

He hoisted you up higher, trailing kisses down your jawline to your neck. Your hands moved down to his chest, pawing at the fabric covering his sturdy body in an attempt to prompt him to take it off. It clung to the outline of abs. 

“I don’t have anything on underneath,” he murmured, clasping your hand.

“That’s why I want it off,” you whispered.

He seemed suddenly shy, almost ashamed. 

“Here, I’ll go first. Is that alright?” You coaxed. “We don't have to go that far if you don't want to.”

“No, no, I want to. I want to see you,” he breathed.

His eyes traveled hungrily down your body, still cocooned in the coat.

You realized how strangely shy you were around him too. You hadn’t had a meaningful relationship outside of sex in years. The uncomfortably familiar fear crept into your mind: that he was just using you. You weren’t worth anything beyond your body.

“Is everything okay?” he asked softly. You brought yourself to stare directly in his eyes, fogged over by desire; yet his gaze held a distinct adoration. It was a stark contrast to the hungry, lustful expressions that adorned the faces of the men you encountered in your career. 

You slowly breathed out, trying to let the stresses melt away. 

“Yeah, don't worry. I know, the escort being nervous, it's ironic.”

He grabbed your hand and squeezed it tight.

“It's not. Take your time, beautiful.”

Basking in the burst of confidence his words gave you, you rather unceremoniously shrugged off the coat that was swallowing your body.

You immediately felt painfully bare in the glittery, see-through, tasseled number that you'd been squeezed into for several hours. 

His eyes roved up and down your body in an awed appreciation. 

“It’s bad, I know,” you said quickly, breaking the silence.

“Bad? Fuck no. You look amazing,” he replied in a thick, husky voice. 

He approached you, moving closer until he was nearly pressed against you and you could feel his body heat rolling off him in waves. 

“Can I take it off?” he whispered.

You just nodded, feeling intoxicated by his presence as he towered over you.

His hands raked over your body, caressing every curve. Lifting up the bottom, he  exposed the thong that provided little coverage. He moved the string of fabric aside, his finger gently tracing your wetness. 

“How do you get this fuckin’ thing off?” he asked, his hands searching.

“There’s a zipper on the back,” you offered, too far gone to find humor in the situation. You just wanted his hands back on you- immediately.

You felt goosebumps forming across your skin, your hair standing on end as his fingers wandered to the back of your dress, pulling it open at what seemed a painfully slow speed. 

“You’re being too much of a gentleman,” you murmured, the dress dropping to your feet.

He let out a musical laugh, moving to press himself against you. 

“Sure about that?” he breathed into your ear, his fingers hooking around your underwear. He tugged at it teasingly, until he pulled too hard and it snapped in his hands. He looked down in surprise.

“Uh, yeah, the material’s pretty cheap.”

“Or I’m really, really strong.”

“Mhm,” you rebutted. The wind was abruptly knocked out of you as he endeavored to prove his point- you were shoved up against the cold wall, boxed in by his arms.

Just as you were reveling in his display of dominance, he loosened his grip, suddenly descending to his knees. Your heart instantly felt like it was threatening to burst out of your chest. 

He looked up at you, and your stomach tightened as his eyes bore into yours. Him on his knees for you was such a beautiful sight to behold. His lips were swollen and pink from your affections, his hair thoroughly mussed up. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice soft and understanding. “I just assumed it’d been awhile since someone put you first.”

Fuck. Me.

You nodded.

“Come on, I need you to use your words, darlin’.”

You sighed in a combination of arousal and annoyance. “Yes, Vanth.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, trailing kisses up your leg. His mouth whispered against your clit, steady and cautious. He continued to move his lips at a glacial place, appearing to be carefully savoring your taste, but causing you to grow impatient.

“Vanth,” you whined. “Do something, please.”

He drew back, looking up at you with a dazed expression. 

“I’m sorry, darlin’. I just wanna… savor you,” he said softly. You barely had any time to process what he’d said before his lips were back on you and you were overwhelmed by a wave of pleasure. 

“F-Fuck.. Stay right there, please,” you pleaded, squeezing your eyes shut. He expertly worked his tongue through your folds, sending your nerve endings into a frenzy. You unconsciously pawed at his hair, grabbing a handful of it in your fists and pulling him closer to you. You were utterly lost in the sensation he was giving you, your thighs trapping him against you.

“Vanth, I’m gonna-” you moaned out, hardly giving him enough warning before you achieved your high.

He slowly detached himself from your hold, his face slick with the remnants of your arousal as he licked his lips like a hungry predator. 

“I’m sorry,” you panted.

“Huh? What for, doll?”

“For having you in such a vice grip.”

He laughed, shaking his head.  “It was hot, believe me.”

“Come on, get up,” you demanded, grabbing at the fabric covering him. “I don’t know why this is still on.”

“You’re wasting no time,” he mused as he fumbled to free himself from the oppressive item of clothing in question. 

“Of course not.” You descended upon him like a wolf to its prey, your hands running down his torso and stopping eagerly above his waist. His cock sprung free from his waistband, pre-cum leaking from its angry pink tip. You wrapped your hand around it, pumping it up and down.

“Wait, wait, stop,” he cut in after a few moments, desperation painting his expression. “I don’t want to cum just from that.”

You halted the motion, your hand still grasping his appendage. “You’re saying you would cum from just this?”

“Hey, lay off me. I haven’t. . . y’know. In a while.”

“So what you’re telling me is that you’re, like, really backed up?” You slowly moved your hand up and down his cock. 

He shot you an irritated look. “If that’s how you want to put it, yes.”

“And where do you wanna cum then, huh?”

“You on birth control?”

“What do you think, Marshal?” 

He smirked and leaned in to continue, but you put a hand up to stop him. “Uh-uh. I want you to use your words.”

“To say what?” he asked, confusion settling over his features.

“What you just said. Where you want to cum.”

“Oh, so you’re gonna make me spell it out, then, doll? Alright. I’ll bite.”

He stepped back slightly, staring into your eyes with a piercing gaze.

“I want to cum inside you. ”

You mock-scoffed, placing a hand on your heart. “Using me like a cheap whore.”

“I’m sure you’re a very expensive whore, darlin’.” He pressed a swift kiss to your lips before stepping out of his jumpsuit. 

He kicked it aside, standing before you with his naked body on full display. Something about the way he seemed to avoid your gaze and shuffle uncomfortably indicated that he viewed his changed form as a source of shame. 

“You’re perfect,” you breathed. Your eyes surveyed his body, the gaping parts of him that had to be filled in with metal. Pieces of himself he’d never get back. But in front of you, utterly vulnerable, he’d never looked more handsome and completely whole. He was a masterpiece, the product of a clumsy God who’d managed to restore his broken creation to its original greatness. 

“I’m an old man, Eve,” he retorted, breaking your reverie. 

“Oh, shut up. You know I’m only several years younger.” 

“But far more striking than I am,” he said in a low voice, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Come on, let’s go over here. I don’t want to talk anymore, doll.”

He took your hand in his, and as you trailed behind him, you were unwittingly mesmerized by his figure. He stopped in front of the bacta pod, turning as if he could feel your eyes burning into him.

“Well?” He gestured to it.

“You want me to get in?” you asked, surprise and uncertainty creeping into your voice.

“It’s not like we exactly have a bed to work with, do we?” 

He sensed your trepidation as you hesitated to reply, stepping towards you and rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

“It’s not that bad. I would know, trust me.”

“I’m just worried we’ll- I don’t know, break it or something.”

He laughed. “Oh, please. This thing is made to withstand anything. Even fucking, I’d wager.”

“Don’t be so crass,” you teased, flicking him.

He tilted his head. “Didn’t I say I didn’t want to talk anymore?” he repeated, gesturing towards the pod again. 

“Alright, dick,” you muttered, cautiously clambering in. You winced at the sensation of its cold bottom against your bare skin.

“Lay down on your back please, darlin’.” He stood over the pod, his erection staunchly evident. You did as he said wordlessly.

He climbed on top of you, bracing himself on either side of the pod. 

“You ready?” He asked.

You nodded with a murmur of affirmation.

“Nah, darlin’. I thought we used our words here, remember?”

Ugh. Fuck him for turning what you said earlier back on you.

“I’m ready.”

He was motionless, cocking an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For you to fuck me, Marshal.” You placed an irritated emphasis on his title.

“Good girl,” he said softly. You felt heat rising to your face and your heart thumping against your chest as he drew closer to you.

As he lined himself up with your entrance, his eyes bored into yours. He was staring at you so intently, as if you were the only thing in his vision. 

He gently pushed himself inside you, his thrusts agonizingly slow at first as he adjusted to you. You let out a soft moan, relishing the feeling of him filling you up. You wanted more. 

He seemed deeply unsure of himself, but you could see the thinly veiled desire in his expression. 

“Come on, Vanth. Give me all of you. Please,” you encouraged.

Your words were all he needed to finally let go. Your warmth, your body, pressed up to him allowed him to forget the months of pent-up loneliness and self-doubt, if only for now. You pulled yourself closer, wrapping your arms around his neck as you felt his thrusts grow faster and sloppy. You wanted to melt into his strong hold, close any space that kept you apart.

“Mmm- I know, this is embarrassing, but uh-,” he started, his breathing heavy. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me, then, Marshal.”

He grasped at you, trying to brace himself on some part of your flesh. You steadied his hand, placing it o n your throat. He squeezed it with abrupt pressure in a passionate fervor, eyes blazing like a wild beast as he left you gasping for air. 

“Fuck- sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“It’s alright,” you breathed, secretly reveling in his complete loss of inhibitions. 

Loosening his grip on your windpipe, he began thrusting harder, faster. You could feel him reaching his climax by the way the hand around your throat went limp, his cock twitching inside you. 

His cum painting your insides, he pulled out of you with a throaty grunt. You whined at the loss of contact, grabbing for him. Your hands touched the smooth metal of his replicated flesh, and he winced away.

“What?” you asked, your stomach dropping. 

“Sorry. It’s not you, darlin’. It’s just still so. . strange. I’ll get used to it.” He placed your hand back on his shoulder. 

He leaned in, planting a kiss on your forehead and then your lips.

“Thank you. That was amazing,” he murmured. Lowering his voice even further, he added, “I think I might be in love with you.”

“I’ve heard that an unfortunate amount of times. Usually right at this exact moment.”

“Is it still unfortunate if I mean it?”

“No. I might love you too. The jury’s still out, though. I need the defendant to buy me a drink first, then I can decide.”

He chuckled. “Sounds like bribery, but deal. Let’s get you cleaned up, doll.”

[likeastarstar]

The Duke - Part One

(Part Two comes out tomorrow!)

You were in a pond.

A cool, even tempered pond without a soul around and not a stitch of clothing confining your body. Your hair flowed free, wading through the water like the sea grass that wrapped and caressed your ankles underwater. You could just float in complete silence, not a soul to bother you or prod at you.

At least that's what you told yourself when you found yourself in situations like this one, which was often.

"I detest this," You said aloud, snapping your eyes open sharply when a harsh yank of a hairbrush ripped you away from the daydream you had been so desperately clinging to. "All this poking and prodding and touching- Why must I always be touched by so many throughout my day?"

"It's your job to be poked and prodded," Replied your ever so patient handmaiden, who had grown used to this argument of yours. "You're a lady, we have to see to it that your hair is always neat, your dress is attended to, your posture straight, presentation immaculate."

"One day, I'll snap and bite anyone who tries to touch me," You plotted blissfully, before catching the insulted look upon her face and feeling guilty instantly, "Everyone except for you, that is."

She smiled in reply, squeezing the top of your shoulder with her well worn, calloused hand. You placed yours over hers and squeezed, wishing she could just be your friend and not have to attend to you all the time as a servant did.

"Well, all of this fiddling is done with one goal- find a match. Once that's done, I dare say you'll only be concerned with the touch of a singular person," She teased, "Then, you won't even notice the mundanity of having your hair brushed."

You stared at yourself in the mirror, narrowing your eyes. She was right- all of this primping was only meant to attract a man towards marrying you. The way your dress drew a sharp angle into your waist, how your chest was pushed up and flaunted to a specific degree as to allude without being directly alluring. The unnecessarily intricate fabrics that covered your body, the jewels your mother insisted on you wearing to any and ever occasion.

It was easy being rich but hard to maintain as a woman.

Tonight was especially bad, a ball held in celebration of some Duke visiting the city commanding all of your parents' energy. You didn't have to worry too much about attracting his attention in particular, your parents were had their sights on him for your older sister instead. No, you were as close to free as you could be for tonight, instructed to simply be a supportive accessory to your sister, something you were more than fine with- anything to get the attention off of you and onto someone else.

"I doubt even a husband could make me fond of brushing my hair," You noted lightly before closing your eyes, imagining yourself diving headfirst into that pond.

You wished you could live in your head forever.

"This is disgusting."

"Take this one, the red one," You offered, gesturing towards the pastry you had opted for. "It's some kind of berry."

You watched Seokjin take it gingerly, taking the smallest bite known the man but appreciating it nonetheless. He made a satisfied little huff of a noise and you smiled, your cousin's eyes widening in surprise.

"I told you-" You started, beaming at him before you felt a harsh hand clamp down on your shoulder.

"Will the two of you stop eating and acknowledge the other people in the room?" Your mother whispered harshly, "Honestly, it's like you haven't eaten in days."

"Well, it's a testate to the quality of your cook, isn't? Can't you think of it as a compliment?" Seokjin offered lamely, making you cringe in anticipation of your mother's response.

"No." She said plainly, in a tone so severe you were too afraid to look at her. "Now go talk to someone else, I don't want to see you two together again for the rest of the night."

"You're joking-"

"She's not," You muttered to Jin, sulking off into a nearest vacant corner.

There were people everywhere, making you feel totally trapped. You felt like you couldn't breathe, the waist of your dress cutting in too tightly against your ribs and making it hard to think straight. You avoided nearly everyone, stumbling away from the masses of the party and into the gardens behind the property.

Finally- peace.

You rustled through green bushes of overly manicured flowers and soft grass trimmed to a tee. Wading through it was as easy as floating in water, giving you the very closest thing to your dream that you could get.

"Not enjoying the ball?"

You jumped, freezing at the sound of a foreign voice. Spinning on your heels, you were confronted by a man- frankly, a gorgeous man.

He was tall, square jaw, sloped nose, strong gaze locked onto you. He was dressed impeccably but clearly had decided he was over it- coat thrown over one shoulder, gloves thrown off and tucked into his pocket.

You were momentarily distracted by his exposed hands, how delicate and nimble they seemed. You watched him bring one up to his face, smoothing hair off of his forehead and carding through thick brown locks carefully.

You stared at him blankly, enchanted and scared all at once.

"I don't like the crowds," You mumbled, taking a step back cautiously.

This man was like nothing you had ever seen- he appeared out of nowhere, like an angel and completely took you by surprise.

"Neither do I," He smiled, pulling a flask out of his back pocket, "Care for a stroll instead?"

So you strolled.

And you spoke- and you learned that he likes horse riding and his grandparents owned a farm. He liked playing instruments and watching ballet, he enjoyed the arts but didn't find himself immediately successful with a paintbrush. He was funny and shy and liked the drink but only wine that tasted of fruit.

You didn't believe him until you took a sip from his flask-

"Plums," You noted, licking the remnants off of your lips. He nodded with a shy smile, making your heart melt a little. You wanted to know everything about him, more than he had already told you thus far. You had a million questions and started with the most important, "You haven't told me your name."

The beautiful boy froze, throwing you an awkward look as if it were the wrong question to ask. Wasn't it natural that you'd ask him for his name eventually?

"What? Is that a strange question?" You wondered, drifting away from him towards a tree.

"No," He mused, "Just not one I get asked often."

You smirked, looking over your shoulder at him, "Maybe if you spent less time hiding in gardens and more time at balls."

"Then I wouldn't get to come across such beautiful women," He flirted, and suddenly he was right behind you, hand at your waist and twirling you to face him. "Taehyung. My name is Taehyung."

You squeaked in surprise, letting him push you up against the tree and step towards you. You let his name roll off your lips for the very first time, pulling him into your space- wanting him as close as possible.

Hearing you say his name seemed to draw a visceral reaction from him, lips parting slightly as a shaky breath left his lungs.

"I- I don't want to do anything uncouth, but I-" He stammered, breathless. "I think I might die if I don't kiss you."

Your heart raced and you wanted him too badly to care about manners or rules or what your mother would think. You kissed him once, soundly, and you knew he was yours. Whatever this man was made of, he belonged to your soul and your soul only.

"Take me somewhere," You whispered against his skin, looking up at him with eager eyes.

"You shouldn't be seen with me like this," He frowned, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

"Then follow me," You decided, knowing your own home well enough to sneak in unnoticed.

He nodded nervously, his hand finding hours that that was it.

You were too lost in him to notice it- too focused on the way his skin felt against yours. How his nimble and fragile hands worked your body and melted you down into putty before shaping you back up however he pleased. You let him explore every part of you the way no one had before, the feeling of newness too strong to think clearly before it was too late. Instead, you found yourself rocking against him, making love to him again. The two of you spoke more, explored more, kissed more, slept more, fucked more.

It was so bad your handmaiden had to tell your mother you had fallen ill after the ball and couldn't be seen.

"Isn't your family wondering where you are?" You whispered to Taehyung,

"Not really," he sighed, with a wry smile that made you worried. "They don't question me, they have no need to."

You were aware of how foreign he was to you but this is what you wanted- some recklessly permanent bond to be made between the angel and you. Something you wouldn't forget no matter if you had to return to reality tomorrow.

For the rest of your life you'd have this in your mind, the way Taehyung held you, how he filled you up so completely, the way he begged for you, whispering out your name like the sweet hymn of an angel.

"Your hair is so beautiful," Taehyung mumbled, when the two of you had slipped into a warmed bath prepared by your handmaiden who only gave you one pointed look before obliging.

She wouldn't say a thing- you were sure of that much.

You pursed your lips, feeling him card his hair through your locks and drip warm water through the tendrils, "I wish to do nothing but tend to it, run a comb through it all day and make love to you as you please."

You laughed softly, wondering if all that time spent under torture of a hairbrush had indeed been worth it. Maybe your handmaiden had been right, because one compliment from him and your heart was soaring, head spinning uncontrollably. Your head was laid on his chest as he played with your hair, seated in his lap with your legs on either side of his hips feeling the upmost comfort in the world.

"What a dream," You mused, "bring my mother a dowry suitable and she'll oblige."

Taehyung tssked and pinched your side, "You're being flippant but I truly am determined to court you."

"Do you not agree we seem to have skipped a number of steps?" You scoffed, sitting up sharply. "You hardly know me."

"I know what books you like to read and that you don't like crowds, I know you love to swim and that you enjoy sweet foods over savory. The rest will come later, with time, I'll come to know you like the back of my hand and you'll know me the same."

It was a beautiful notion but you couldn't help some nagging voice in the back of your head telling you to slow down. You had never been allowed to have anything you wanted, even as a child your choice was never considered. It was hard to believe that things could be this easy.

You didn't miss the way his eyes drifted downwards towards your chest and cupped his gorgeous face in your hands, forcing him to stay focused, "This was a dream- but a dream is all that it was. My mother would never allow me to choose my own husband."

"Then I'll tell her I chose you instead- she has no need to know that I've already bedded you." He said adamantly, "I'll tell her you caught my eye at the ball and I wish to see you again. Supervised visits, walks, I'll take you horseback riding. We'll do it right. You can leave the same pathway we came up this evening open for me and I'll come visit you at night, brush your hair, keep your bed warm."

He smirked, leaning closer to you and laying a line of sweet but intention filled kisses down your neck. Imagining a future with Taehyung was easy, even if it wasn't perfect, a man like him would be worth it- wouldn't he?

You moaned lightly, leaning into the touch despite the anxiety in your heart, "And who's to say she'll say yes? What prospects do you have, are we even of the same rank? I don't know your family crest, you've only seen mine hanging above my bed."

"Trust me, your mother will not object to me courting you," He assured.

"How can you be so sure?" You said suspiciously, gripping his shoulders tightly.

"Because, my love," He sighed, leaning back completely so that his chest was exposed to you, glistening with beads of water running down his golden skin with his long arms outstretched and resting along the edges of the tub. He looked larger than life, angel wings fully expanded like this. "No one denies a Duke, not even your mother."

You felt the blood drain from your face, staring at him with wide eyes. Duke? As in, the duke? The duke your sister was meant to fall in love with and finally secure her happy ever after for her own sake alongside your mother's? You suddenly felt anxious, rising out of the tub too quickly.

This changed everything- you ruined everything. Suddenly, your heart was racing and your lungs felt heavy. You ruined your sister's future- brought shame to your family. How would she react? How would your mother react?

Taehyung's eyes scanned your suddenly distraught expression with confusion- too concerned at your reaction to take in your nude form before you threw a dressing gown over your body, not caring enough to dry off beforehand.

The fabric stuck uncomfortably to your wet skin but you couldn't care in that moment, turning on your heels in anger, "Why didn't you tell me? You- how could you just neglect to tell me who you are completely?"

Taehyung looked up at you with wide eyes and a slack jaw, "You asked for my name, not my station."

"What were you even doing hiding in a garden- you're a duke!" You exclaimed, stomping your foot childishly.

"The same thing you were doing, I dislike parties!" He laughed, as if there were anything funny about the situation you found yourself in.

"It was your own party!" You insisted miserably. "You're meant to court my sister, you know that- right?"

He flicked water at you petulantly, sighing dramatically, "I don't want your sister, I want you."

You threw him a look, rolling your eyes at him. Didn't want your sister- your sister was perfect. He had to be lying. He must be. He was one of those men, the high stationed ones who woo'd stupid, unsuspecting, women and then ruined their lives and left them in the dust while they went to-

"You look like you're an inch away from losing your mind," Taehyung commented, arms hanging over the edge of the tub.

"I think you need to leave." You decided.

"What? A moment ago I told you I offered you my hand and you're rejecting me?"

"I'm not- that's," You stammered, unsure of what to say. "We're strangers, the only true option here is to forget this night ever happened and you can meet my sister and fall in love and all will be right."

"That's what you want me to do?" He said bitterly, anger so palpable you couldn't bear to look at him.

You nodded wordlessly, gasping when he rose up suddenly. You turned around sharply, a deep blush settling on your cheeks as if you hadn't seen him nude for the majority of the night. He paid no mind, approaching you from behind and slinging an arm loosely around your waist, wet bodies pressed together- separated only by thin silk.

His lips grazed the shell of your ear, as it had before your lips touched for the first time but this time felt different- more dangerous.

"You'd deny yourself the pleasure of being loved for your family's social standing?" He hissed, "Can you honestly say you won't regret this? Standing by idly knowing how much i want you and yet turning your back on it?"

"I'd do it for my family's reputation- yes." You said plainly, "There's only a night between us, not love or want or fate- just lust."

Taehyung stiffened against you and suddenly he removed himself from your side, disappearing altogether while you stood there- trapped in deep agony. You did the only thing you could do as you stood there, closing your eyes slowly and speaking in hushed tones-

"I am in a pond..."

[pastanest]

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to @iamburdened - thanks so much!! ♡

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

The King Of Wishful Thinking

Spencer Reid had been in love before, he knew the symptoms as well as he did any other sickness. He could tell that it had started the first day he saw you, much to his dismay. Hotch introduced you to the team as his PA, but added that the title was vague because you were going to help out any member of the team who needed it. All of the boring parts of the job, filing and other office-based tasks that the rest of the team dreaded. While the profilers went away on cases, you kept all of their things in order back at Quantico, and you’d stay late to make sure you were there to give them a full report when they got back. You were efficient from the get go, a lifesaver amongst the team when you offered to take their piles of paperwork and sort them. But, of course, the one person who didnt need help with any paperwork was the one person more desperate than any other to speak to you.

At first, you offered Spencer help as much as you offered everyone else, but after he stumbled through the politest rejections you’d ever experienced, and the team continually joking that he definitely didnt need help, you stopped offering to avoid irritating him. He had hoped that the lack of communication would extinguish the fire you’d lit within him, but oh, how wrong he was.

“Good morning Doctor Reid!” You called gleefully as you entered the building, your eyes immediately landing on Spencer, who sat at his desk idly writing out impossible maths equations.

He didnt say anything in reply, just beamed at you, and you approached him to sit on his lap, the two of you laughing in between passionate kisses-

“Hey, kid, you alright?” Derek nudges Spencer, pulling him out of his daydream.

Spencer’s gaze had been fixed on the glass doors awaiting your arrival, and Derek was aware like the rest of the team that this distractedness was not common with the young genius.

“Y-Yes, Im fine!” Spencer splutters, clearing his throat and straightening his tie, eyes frantically darting around the room as though to prove he hadnt been zoned out staring at the door for several minutes.

“What’s been up with you lately, man-“ Derek begins to ask quietly, but he’s interrupted.

“Good morning Doctor Reid!” You call gleefully as you push through the glass doors, leaning on them with your back because your arms are stacked with papers.

“Good morning (Y/N)!” He squeaks back, waving awkwardly, causing your smile to widen into a beaming grin.

In his daydreams, Spencer manages to be an awful lot smoother, but your genuine kindness is not something his mind conjures up. He had hoped you not talking to him would kill his crush on you, but of course, you being as lovely as you are, you made sure to greet him every single morning so that he never felt left out. The rest of the team had the easy route when it came to speaking to you, Spencer had to wait for specific opportunities, such as the one Derek Morgan has happened to witness.

Derek laughs and sits back on Spencer’s desk. “Ah, I see.”

“What do you see? I dont see anything. You dont see anything!” Spencer is rising from his desk in what can only be described as sheer panic, literally walking into the rail of the stairs as he tries to walk around Derek to get to them, causing Derek to laugh even harder.

“Kid’s got it bad!” He teases.

“I dont ‘got’ anything!” Spencer snaps, but the nervous higher pitch to his voice gives him away.

The team head to the round table to discuss today’s case. Just as Penelope begins describing the victims, Spencer happens to glance at the doorway. And there you are, across the walkway, headphones hiding your ears as you dance around the printer.

“Given the extent of paperwork waiting for us in Florida, I’ve asked (Y/N) to join us on this case.”

Spencer’s eyes widen as he slowly turns back to Hotch, unable to believe the words that got through to him despite being completely distracted by you. He mentally scolds himself, of course the mention of your name is the only thing that can pull him away from staring at you.

“(Y/N)?” Hotch calls, but you continue dancing around the printer, completely oblivious.

The team chuckles as they watch you, smiling fondly as you pick up the files you printed and take your headphones off. Hotch calls your name again, and this time you jump out of your skin. Turning to face the round table, you already have your eyes closed and your mouth pressed to a thin line, realising you’d forgotten you were supposed to be with the team. You jog over to the round table, your headphones bouncing around your neck.

“Sorry about that! Ditziness is next to godliness!”

The team laughs, Spencer’s smile lingering longer than anyone else’s.

“Honestly, Im not sure why Im coming considering you have the world’s fastest reader right here!” You exclaim, gesturing to Spencer, who immediately sits up straighter.

“The world’s fastest reader is actually Howard Stephen Berg, who can read 25,000 words per minute, but Maria Teresa Calderon, from the Philipines, claims to beat that with 80,000 words per minute-“ Spencer pauses, then smiles bashfully while mentally facepalming. “-and you were just complimenting me, werent you? Thank you.”

Spencer lowers his head, blushing furiously as Derek and Rossi slap his back, everyone at the round table sharing a laugh.

On the jet, Hotch informs everyone that you’re just collecting your things from your bag, but you’ll be right with them. Spencer takes a window seat at the back of the jet, and Emily quickly plops down beside him.

“You should ask her out.” She says simply.

“What!?!” Spencer squeaks, trying to express his outrage as quietly as possible.

“You should ask her out!” Emily repeats.

“No way!” Spencer shakes his head furiously.

“Why?” Emily questions, as though he’s refusing the easiest thing in the world.

“She doesnt- she couldnt- the majority of outcomes would be horrific!” Spencer struggles, stumbling over his words.

“Would the outcomes really be horrific, or are you just too scared to admit you might actually have a shot with someone?” Emily asks in a hushed voice.

Before Spencer can reply, Emily’s eyes dart to the jet doors and she jumps out of the seat next to Spencer, leaving it empty just in time for you to arrive. He looks out of the jet window, pretending to be deep in thought.

“Is this seat taken?” Spencer hears you ask, and he discretely pinches his thigh to make sure he isnt dreaming.

He turns his head to look at you. “N-No!”

You smile and sit down beside him, pulling a blanket over yourself that Spencer hadnt even noticed you were carrying. You catch Spencer staring at it and shrug.

“This is a 13 hour flight, best thing to do is get a nap in before everyone else so that when I am awake everyone else is sleeping, then I can get some work done. Or, I can have conversations without worrying about a team of profilers listening in!” You raise an eyebrow, causing Spencer to chuckle, he understands your point on a spiritual level. He thinks you’re going to go to sleep, but you continue talking to him. “If you like, we can both sleep and then chat once we wake up. Since we’re next to each other and all.” You suggest, and his profiling instincts tell him you’re trying to be very casual about the suggestion, and the fact you’re avoiding eye contact makes him think you’re nervous about something. But what?

Spencer nods, also trying very hard to come across as casual about it. He hopes that because you arent a profiler you wont recognise that he’s trying so hard.

You smile at him and proceed to get snuggled up under your blanket. He waits until he hears your breathing slow, telling him you’re asleep, then he glances at you, to see you’re still smiling. His heart all but leaps out of his chest. Not wanting to miss out on an opportunity to have a private conversation with you that he doesnt have to initiate, Spencer settles in his own seat and closes his eyes, persuading himself to sleep.

The moment he drifts, you’re back again. What else would he dream about?

He was in his apartment, re-reading War And Peace, when he heard a knock at his door. He frowned, rose to his feet and walked to the door. When he opened it, he saw you standing there with two tubs of jello and two spoons, you held one of each out to him with a beaming smile on your face. Spencer wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his apartment, lifting you and the jello into the air and spinning you around, before placing you back down on the ground to rest his forehead against yours and hold you close. He didnt kiss you, he didnt need to in that moment, because even dream-him knew not every moment required a kiss, and he didnt just want to kiss you. Sometimes, all he wanted was to hold you.

“Spencer?” You asked quietly.

“Hmm?” He hummed in reply.

“Spencer?!”

He jumps in his plane seat, eyes snapping open as he realises you are actually saying his name and gently shaking him awake. You laugh quietly.

“What were you dreaming about?” You ask curiously.

Spencer swallows nervously. “Jello.”

You nod in understanding. “Jello is a very good thing to have deep dreams about, congratulations.”

“Thank you?” Spencer says, somewhat confused and still half-asleep.

You cross your legs and turn to face him, sitting sideways on the jet seat with your blanket wrapped around you. “So! Let’s play a question game!”

Spencer frowns curiously. “Why?”

You shrug, gesturing to the rest of the team. “Nobody’s eavesdropping, I wanna get to know you, why else?”

Spencer’s heart skips a beat. “Why do you want to get to know me?”

You roll your eyes at him, but you’re smiling, so he knows you arent making fun of him. “Because you’re interesting! So, questions, are you ready?”

Spencer straightens his back, shuffling around in his seat as he feels the tension rise. He’s considerably taller than you, so he cant quite sit sideways on the seat, but he does his best to face you.

“Okay, you go first.” He says, allowing you to set the tone of the questions so that he can figure out what to ask you afterwards, but also so he can try and deduce what you want to know, specifically. There has to be a reason that you want to play this game.

“Are you comfortable with the way the team make fun of you sometimes?”

Well, of all the questions he theorised you would ask, that was not one of them. He’s stumped. Spencer shuffles and repositions in his seat as he frowns, formulating an answer.

“Most of the time I know they arent being cruel, they’re my friends, but sometimes it does get to me, I guess. Everyone has bad days.” Spencer explains, and you nod, but he cant hold back from continuing. “I dont want to waste my question asking this, but could you tell me why you asked that?”

You smile at him. “We dont talk much, but I pay attention to you, which I suppose is a consequence of that. Since I dont know you very well, and dont get many chances to talk to you in order to change that, I try and figure you out by paying attention. I notice them making fun of you, and sometimes I want to jump in and defend you, but I feel it isnt my place, Im not quite in tune with the team dynamic just yet.”

Spencer feels his heart swell at your words. Despite barely knowing him, you care about him that much? And you want to figure him out?

You nod at him. “Your turn to ask a question!”

Spencer clears his throat. “Why do you make the effort to talk to me when it isnt in your job description?” He immediately sees how taken aback you are, and he’s quick to rephrase. “It’s not that I dont enjoy you talking to me - I very much do - I just dont know why you bother, because you have to talk to everyone else as part of your job. You dont need to talk to me, but you choose to, and I dont know why.”

You tuck your hair behind your ear and avoid eye contact, instead looking over to double check that the rest of the team are definitely asleep, as you try to find your words.

“Well, like I said, you’re interesting. I want to get to know you, and the fact you dont need my help means that I cant use that as an excuse to talk to you, like I can for everyone else. In order to get to know you, specifically, I have to make the extra effort.”

Spencer’s stomach drops. Is he just like everyone else to you? Do you simply want to get to know him in the same way you know the rest of the team?

“Why do you stare at me?”

Suddenly, the entire world stops. Spencer swears he can feel his blood freezing in his veins. He doesnt know how it never crossed his mind that during his zoned out moments, you could quite easily see him. Oh god.

“I...find you interesting, too.” He begins, intending to stop talking right then and there, but his mouth has other ideas. “What I mean is, you make me interested in you- but not in an objectifying way, I just mean that- you are so effortlessly mesmerising and I dont- I cant- and you dont feel the same way, which is fine, Im just somebody you work with that you barely know- you dont want to know me in the same way and that’s fine- I just-“

You lean forward and cover his mouth with your hand, silencing his ramble.

“Spencer, take a breath.” You tell him, but the smile on your face makes it very difficult for him to do that. Taking your hand away from his mouth, you settle back in your seat. “I said I wanted to get to know you like I do the rest of the team because I was trying to retain some professionalism, while being wrapped up in a blanket and sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce.”

Spencer cant help but laugh at that, and in doing so you put him completely at ease, despite his heart beating a mile a minute.

“But, since you just metaphorically threw the remaining professionalism out of the jet window, we’ll replace it with honesty. Im interested in you, Spencer, and in the same way you are interested in me.” You explain to him, your words deliberately slower so that they sink in.

And just like that, you have Doctor Spencer Reid speechless. He keeps his gaze locked with yours as he very obviously pinches his own arm.

“Dont hurt yourself! What was that for!?!” You grab his hand and take it away from his shoulder, holding it in yours so that he doesnt try and pinch himself again. The care you have for him could make him cry.

“Just making sure this isnt another daydream. It’s been difficult to tell the difference recently.” Spencer tells you, his words barely above a whisper. Before he can stop himself or overthink it, he asks the only question playing on his mind. “Can...Can I kiss you?”

Your cheeks flush pink as you nod slowly. The two of you lean in at a snail pace, it feels like someone is holding the brakes on gravity, slowing down a pull that cannot be resisted, it’s inevitable. His lips meet yours, directly above the arm of the jet seats between you. Every fibre of his existence is set alight. Spencer has a momentary worry that the fireworks have the strength to blow up the plane, but he’s reminded how irrational that is when the overwhelming bliss takes ahold of him again. One of your hands lets go of his, to feel up his chest and around the back of his neck, to card through his hair. Spencer’s hands hold onto yours, treasuring every aspect of this, savouring the ecstasy of this event being in the real world rather than just in his head. He pulls away first, breathless and grinning.

“Would this be a bad time to correct an earlier statement?” Spencer asks randomly.

“What statement?” Your brain is still rebooting after that kiss, you cant quite remember anything that was said before.

“My dream earlier.“ He explains.

“What?” You frown, even more confused after finding out what he’s referring to.

“It wasnt just about jello.” Spencer admits, his grin cheeky.

You laugh and shake your head at him, using the hand that’s still in his hair to pull his lips back to yours.

Maybe wishful thinking can get you somewhere after all.

[drowninginthoughts27]

Heyyy!!! Okay so I kinda took a bit of a turn in the opposite direction (same ending just different major plot point) with ttwns cause I like what I have now a lot better. It left me with this deleted scene and I didn’t want to put it to waste so here it is. :)

I’m gonna put it below the cut cause it’s 644 words.

CW: alcohol

Its not even half past three in the morning when James’ phone starts violently dinging. Notifications going off like crazy. 

He’s in the middle of tying his shoes, the music thats blaring through his AirPods getting interrupted by the constant flow of alerts. It’s odd to have his phone be this active this time in the morning. If he’s being honest its a bit concerning. Nobody else he knows is typically up at this hour. The only reason he is even awake is due to of his inability to sleep.

Reaching at for his phone thats been placed haphazardly on his kitchen counter as it starts to ring. He immediately recognizes the ringtone, one that he had set just for this specific person. The sound of it forcing memories up that he told himself he would suppress. It no use though. Its not like he wants to forget, even if its better for him. 

His finger hovers over the answer button, hand trembling slightly. Nervous with the anticipation of what could come next.

Regulus’ loud surroundings are immediately audible. Sounds of heavy bass and screaming people flood through the phone speaker.

“JaAmiEe,” Regulus slurs. “You answered!”  

The sound of the voice immediately goes to his head, filling him with warmth. The warmth immediately being dampened by concern. “Regulus?” He starts to answer but the other man cuts him off.

“I-I didn’t think you would answer. Why’d you answer? Did you miss me?” The other boy shouts in the phone, almost whispering thee last part though. “Come and get me?” He asks, his voice dripping sweet with the unknown amount of liquor he’s consumed. 

“Regulus where even are you?” James asks, struggling to keep his voice calm. Its threatening to waver, let out a sob even. 

“So does that mean you come and get me?” Regulus shouts again.

The way James it looking at it he doesn’t see another option, he could call Sirius or even Peter or Remus, or maybe one of Regulus’ friends if their not already with him. But if he’s being honest he doesn’t really want to do that. 

Sighing James responds, “Yes Regulus, I’ll come get you, send your location.” 

Regulus lets out a sound that can only be described as a high pitched squeal as he presumably sends James his location. 

When James receives the text he lets out an exasperated sigh. Just great he as a club they used to frequent together; The Leaky Cauldron. 

James does end up running that night, only to a random club instead of around his neighborhood.

Arriving at the entrance he looks around, finding Regulus sitting at against the wall phone in hand. 

Sucking a breath in James takes a step towards him. 

“Regulus?” He says. 

“Jaaames!” The other boy beams back, immediately craning his neck upwards to look at him. 

Helping the boy to his feet they start the grueling journey to Regulus’ apartment. 

Regulus leans a majority of his body weight onto James, resting his head on James’ shoulder. 

“This isn’t the way home,” Regulus speaks up after a they round the corner away from the club entrance. “That is,” he says pointing in the general direction of the way to James’ apartment. 

“Regulus, unless you moved yes it is.” 

“No I want to go home, to your home!” He wines, nestling deeper into James’ shoulder, hair now directly under James’ nose.

And as much as it pains James to say these words he does, “Regulus thats not your home.” Voice cracking a bit as he speaks. 

“Oh,” Regulus whispers. “I wish it still was,” he mumbles, muffled my James’ shoulder. 

The rest of the walk to Regulus’ apartment is relatively silent. It isn’t a long walk, not even a mile but about two thirds of the way there James ends up carrying Regulus the rest of the way. 

[shaunsummers]

Belated Birthday Times at Tammy & Dick's

Casey had offered to take Tek out to dinner after she got back from Richmond, but that plan changed once they started texting. She'd only met her parents twice, but the final judgement was that they were 'weird, but cool' and Tek was open to seeing them. Once she knew they had a pool, too, it was over. And once her parents found out, they were already planning an entire birthday meal. So, the house it was.

Truthfully, she was kind of glad the choice was for an evening in. Casey knew she was going to have to be in Williamsburg for the summer—it wasn't like the college would let her camp in the dorms—but it still felt off, being here. For obvious reasons, but, too, she'd kind of fallen away from everyone. Most didn't stay in Williamsburg anyways, and the ones who did were all apparently crashing at Rebel's these days. Which was...a bit problematic. Even still, she had isolated so thoroughly before that no one probably thought of her past graduation. Besides Quinn, maybe. And even trying to go to places and do things she used to, a lot of them were intimately fused with memories. She'd still go regardless; it was something she was working on, trying to give new meaning to the old, but it wasn't an art perfected. Not by a long shot. She'd spent much of her time at home already, so if Tek wanted to hang out here, she wouldn't protest.

"Your friends are at the door!" Casey could hear her mom calling from downstairs, and she knew if she hadn't been helping her dad cook, all of them would be getting the jaws of life by now. Stuffing a sliver of paper between the pages of her book—Tek said they'd be here by 4, but that was an hour ago—she closes it to rise off of her bed and head down.

"Dinner should be ready soon, but let them know they're welcome to any drinks or snacks we have. Just don't let them lose their appetite!" Surely enough, her mom was dusted with spatters of flour and had a rolling pin clutched tight in her hands; also, in a display bordering on violence, was aggressively rolling out a large ball of dough on the counter.

"Can do, mom." Casey shoots her a small smile before shuffling for the door. "Hey, guys." Upon its opening, Tek was already beaming up at her, backpack slung over one shoulder; she definitely took the pool thing as seriously as cancer.

"Hey, Casey!" Tek beams, moving in for the hug with no delay. "I brought swimming trunks. And friends! Well, one friend, and my lady. That's Rebel, she's my girlfriend."

"Really?" Casey inquires, poorly attempting to seem surprised, but she wasn't. Not at all. Tek talked about her so much, and once you entered every-story-suddenly-has-relevance-to-a-specific-person territory, there was no hiding it from anyone. "Well, congratulations." She glances at Rebel with a small, knowing smile, warring with the part of her that wanted to say 'It's about time!', but instead stuffs it down. But, to be fair, they'd been playing the lesbian 'Pine from Afar' trope for way too long. So, good on them.

"Thank you! She did a bunch of cute stuff for my birthday—and everyone else, too—and was just looking so cute in her Spider Gwen costume that she web shot me right in the heart. It was fun! Wish you coulda been there."

Casey lets out a light laugh in the silly explanation, but she expected no less from Tek. She'd never have thought they'd work up a friendship like they had, but she'd come to understand the charm that so easily seemed to cast a spell on everyone else. It had, in the very least, pulled her out of the darkness in her own head many times. "Yeah, sorry about that. I already made plans a while before the day, so I couldn't back out." She wouldn't have gone, anyway, but thank god for having the perfect excuse to keep from explaining why.

"That's okay! Just means I get a whole extra birthday, and I don't blame you for wanting to see your lady. And you're all gussied up! A present for the eyeballs." Tek compliments, and realizing she'd been holding onto Casey the whole time, releases her to take a step back and look her over. "Did ya just get back?" She insinuates a bevy of reasons for Casey's attire with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

"Like, two days ago." Casey rolls her eyes with a small laugh. "Don't get your hopes up." True, she did put in a little extra effort, but considering that she spent most of her days in sweatpants and the free Georgia Tech t-shirts she'd gotten from shirt cannons and school festivals, it was a good enough excuse to have an easier time looking in the mirror.

"Just curious." Tek grins. "But you do look good!" And she did. All they were doing was hanging around at the house, but she had a white crop-top with lemons patterned over it—matching the one earring of a golden lemon dangling on a chain from her ear—loosely surrounded by an oversized lavender button-up and mint-green, high waisted shorts that matched the leaves. Little glints of gold shone at her ear, at the small chain around her neck, and at her wrist. She was even wearing makeup! It definitely seemed like she was trying to impress, but she did always tend to carefully curate her outfits, even before.

"I am gonna poke you to spill the deets, but we can talk about this mystery lady later." They had been prattling a little with Rebel and Siren just hanging in there, so Tek swivels to make introductions. "You know the peeps! Rebel and Siren, Casey. Casey, Rebel and Siren."

"They're not total strangers." Casey retorts in mild humor. Sure, it'd been a while since she'd seen Rebel, and even longer since she'd seen Siren, but it wasn't as if she'd forgotten them. "From what I hear, your girlfriend's been getting into illicit activities with my parents." Her gaze travels to Rebel, then. "They don't need encouragement." She teasingly scolds before landing on Siren. "And it's nice to see you. I didn't know you still lived here."

[leofrith]

FINALLYYYY okay assassin’s creed + 1, 8, 16, 18

1. the character everyone gets wrong

answered here!

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

valhalla is not the worst ac game ever, just as odyssey was not the worst ac game ever before valhalla came along, just as origins was not the worst ac game ever before odyssey, and syndicate was not the worst before origins, and unity was not the worst game before s—[GUNSHOTS]

this happens literally every time a new ac title gets released. everyone hates the newest game until a newer one comes along for people to hate even more, and then proceeds to look back on the game they previously hated with fondness a few years later. rinse and repeat forever and ever. stop expecting the new games to give you what the ezio trilogy gave you. if you want unity, then go fucking replay unity. if you want black flag, then go fucking replay black flag. if you want the original, then go fucking replay the original. stop rating the games based on what they aren't and instead, rate them based on what they are. of course, none of this is to say that people aren't entitled to their own personal preferences, but the constant complaining makes me wonder if most of these people even like ac at all and in fact, just makes you sound like an insufferable, pedantic asshole.

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

reader inserts. not only would I Not Fucking Say That, most of the time the subject of the reader insert also Would Not Fucking Say That. they're almost always made to be so painfully out of character in order to fit into whatever story or preconceived au is being written, to the point where i often wonder if the author even likes or cares about the character they're writing for. personally, if i'm writing a character—especially one i like— i want to make sure i'm doing them justice, which is why i cannot fathom essentially borrowing a character's face and name and nothing else for the purpose of wish fulfillment. it's feels like these authors see all these characters as being completely interchangeable with one another and it drives me fucking crazyyyy.

the only reason i can really think of for not just writing an original work at that point is that using a pre-existing character also provides a pre-existing fandom for your work. but then you're also annoying the shit out of anyone, like me, who is going into a character tag because they want to see content about the actual character, not a 5k ooc smut fic that you couldn't even bother to put under a read-more!!! i cannot stress enough how much i literally would not give a single shit what people are doing with their own free time if the proliferation of those works didn't make every single character tag (and often actor tags as well, because some people will tag every character an actor has ever played in their fics as well, which qualifies as spam btw!!) on this site completely unusable. if i ever wanted to see x reader fics i would search for them specifically, but unfortunately there's also no blanket tag for me to blacklist. so i guess i'll just keep blocking new users until i die.

(yes, i know you said specifically ac and this is a bit more general but this relates to every fandom :/)

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

shut up!!!!! you know i'm gonna say leofrith. 😭 he is the It Girl he is the moment he's got everything!! he's got the kind of religious trauma that only being a christian with a martyr complex could give you. he's got dead parent trauma and a horribly one-sided relationship with his adopted father. he loves ceolbert like a son. the best friendism with hytham. he's literally a sister brother. the dog motif. he is so so deeply unwell. i know he's barely got a character arc to speak of in the game but consider: what if he did? he is everything to me i need to be able to beam the version of him that exists in my head directly into the people's brains or i'll die.

send me a number!