#it may be the explanations just got lost under all the rest of the books stull
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evilminji · 3 months ago
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My ONGOING "SI-OC Ponderings that my Muse is haunting me with but I may never get around to write" Series!
Because, fuck it, might as well. Maybe it will inspire somebody?
Jedi Youngling! Staring down that double barrel Order 66! FUCK.
Now, see, they don't blame the Clones. They don't even blame the Jedi. Whole lot of "victims of circumstance and our Wrong Place Wrong Time environment" going on. But? Are they gonna lay down and take it? Fffffuck no!
They JUST got this body!
Also?
THESE ARE BABIES.
They, An ADULT, have a god damned MORAL OBLIGATION to save as many of this itty bitty alien babies as they can. They warn the adults, obviously. But they FULLY expect? And are unsurprised? When they DON'T LISTEN.
There is a Force Damned PRECEDENT for that. (May you finally rest in peace now, Master Sifo-Dyas.)
The younglings though? THEY didn't get to make a choice. THEY are innocents. And as the only ADULT with knowledge of what's to come? It's HER moral, ethical, and Force given obligation to PROTECT them until they can do so themselves.
As a Jedi... she has to PICK.
Try to save the adults? Those who willfully chose ignorance AND have the ability to defend themselves? To fight and flee under their own power? Or... save the younglings, the infants and babies. Those whose ignorance is that of the young and still learning? Who CAN NOT fight. Can Not run?
It's no choice at all. And if they truely understood? She can only hope they would command her to do EXACTLY as she is doing. Would demand no less. Consider it UNTHINKABLE to ever choose them.
She searches out the hidden passages. Practices lifting things instead of sword stances. She will need to carry so much. Move so quickly. She KNOWS where the attack will come from... Force willing, if she plans well? The Creches will be EMPTY by the time the soilders arrive.
But for that? She must steal. Redirect. Take things from where they should be. It is easier then it should be. First because no expects true mischief from a child, then? Because a war has begun.
Restriction Bolts of the Temple droids and a simple explanation is enough to gain their assistance. It's illogical not to have a plan, even if you never use it. And through them? "Liberated" data jewels. Already plumbed for all the information they're good for. High end, too.
Perfect.
She wipes them all. Fashion's a belt that, one day, Force willing she might wear as a necklace. Then sets to work coping EVERYTHING about the Jedi. When the temple is lost? Their history should not be.
So long as this string of jewels alone survives.
The Jedi are remembered. Luke with not have to start over from half memories and hearsay. They can learn from the past AND still have it. She puts diaries, prophecies, books the jedi wrote for fun. Various Force sects both past and still alive. Teaching methods. Anything. Everything.
A time capsule.
It HAS to be enough.
She fears it's not. Sneaks into the hall of retired Sabers. Sits. And opens her mind to them all. Please. Please! She knows. She's so, SO sorry. You were done. You EARNED your rest. She would not ask this if youngling were not on the line. If Illum might not become to dangerous to travel too.
....if she did not fear what would become of you, should you stay.
The Sith is coming. He WILL take the temple.
Will you come with me now?
Some do, some promise to die, and die VICIOUS. Swear to blow to deadly shrapnel in the hands of any who dare come for them. Others leave their casings. Willing to come, but not as they were. She apologizes for the indignity, as she stuffs them all in the hidden paths.
Honestly? They muse. They've seen worse. Remember that-? WE DO NOT SPEAK OF THAT. HE WAS TRYING HIS BEST, OKAY?!
And all throughout? One must wonder. What do the other younglings think? That OC is strange? Mad? To be ostracized? No, of course not. She is nice. Listens when they're upset. Does not judge or make every emotion a test. Hugs come readily and her mind FEELS older. Like the Creche Master.
And? If Master YODA can be short? Why not OC? She just lives with them. The other Knights and Master's don't listen to her because she Sees things. It scares them. They SAY they do. But children know the difference, don't they? Between what you promise you'll do... and what you'll ACTUALLY do?
But see, the Creche Master's? Increasingly distracted. Preparing the eldest of their charges for WAR ZONES. It's stressful. The fact that the youngers are quiet? SHOULD raise alarm bells. They KNOW better. But they are distracted.
The ones who DO notice? Are the orphan Padawan. The older initiates. People assigned to "help out".
There aren't enough mind healers. Not enough hands to help around the Creche. It was considered a good idea. Young children are full of uncomplicated Light! Yes, Yoda. They are. But as with Obi-Wan, so too with the Crechelings? Children are NOT here to mend the hurts of their elders. That is NOT their purpose.
They are exposing the youngers to Fear and Grief. Broken bonds and the echos of war. This is NOT good for young force sensitives.
Yet... are THEY not young Force Sensitives? Children too? OC knows they are. And it is a bitterness on her tounge. She does what she can. Because SHE is and adult. They notice too. How can they not? The other children turn to her, she guides them through their day. She gives "projects" and listens to concerns. Walks everyone through meditation.
......runs everyone through the Evacuation Plan? WHAT Evacuation Plan?
Oh.
It... it helps. Having something they are PART of. Doing TOGETHER. Something to combat the growing, creeping, darkness that is not violence and death. This? This is planning. Preparation. It... it feels like have some sense of control again, after everything has become senseless and OUT of control. Yet? It is not DARK. Not seeking to force control on others.
It is just... quietly stepping back.
One foot, then another. Calmly and with grief. Letting go, knowing you have tried, as you leave those who have made their choices to the fates they chose. Silently slipping out the door before the building begins to burn. Just as you warned them. Just as they refused to hear.
It's okay to grieve.
Even those who are still alive.
Of course, Shadows ARE supposed to notice unusual movements. Spies and Falling are a concern. Heeey, little youngling! How's things? Just swinging byyyy~☆ soft interrogation tactics~! Gonna admit to any of the Blatant Theft?
Yes, actually. Good you are here. Saves OC the trouble of trying to figure out who is and isn't a Shadow. Kinda convenient, Master Vos, that it's you. What's the fastest set of ships you could stash at the exit to this and THIS hidden path? By this date?
He's sorry, what?
You heard her.
Tiny youngling, unflinching, staring him down and asking for ships like that's a thing she has any right to do? Why? Well... that depends. Are you actually going to listen, Master Vos, or do you want an answer that will comfort you?
Excuse me.
Do you remember? Master Vos, the suffering of Sifo-Dyas? A temple full of Jedi, a seat upon it's council, yet not a single soul would hear him. Would truely listen. How many Knights? How many Masters? Tell me, Master Vos, exactly how many have DIED for willful ignorance and attachment to peaceful days?
There could not POSSIBLY be Sith. So we will not train or prepare. There can not POSSIBLY be a war, Sifo-Dyas, so be consumed by your fear alone. Die, alone. Let Padawan and peacekeepers be Generals. Because what the Force has shown you? It is happening today.
So we refuse to see it. Cling to the present, Master Vos.
Isn't it so COMFORTING here?
You don't have to know what might be. Don't have to ACT. Can be blind and choose ignorance.
A vision then? He surely concludes. For he is no fool. And the Youngling just looks tired. Eats their meal. Answer the question, Master Vos. Do you remember? Was Master Kenobi's suffering also ignored? How well did that work out. Will you LISTEN or have you already come to your conclusions, and now simply seek information to support them?
....he wants to. He does. But you're like, four.
OC nods. Fair. She can see the genuine conflict on his face. He HEARD her. But can not let go of what his eyes tell him. The Force is too muddled here. She too, would have a hard time trusting a small child with something so serious. But.... she can not change her path. And neither can he.
May the Force Be With You, Master Vos.
Plan Besh it is.
She is a small adorable child. The Coruscant gaurd are overworked and filled with spite. Who wants caff and bribery~? Do they clock her immediately? Yes. Is this hilarious. Also yes. Who did you kill, small child? We promise not to be mad.
No one, yet. Could change. She would prefere it not. But who knows. Anyway~☆! Do any of YOU caff loving (here have a refill) gentleman happen to know of any asshole Goverment Officals with REALLY fast ships that run primarily of droid piloting? With potentially easily disabled trackers? Not that she, a small child, would be DOING anything with this information!
It's just neat information to know! *innocent blinking of innocence*
Uh huh. And they were decanted yesterday.
That SAID.... they have a list. Oh noooo! They dropped the list! So much effort to pick it up. Hey, kid, could pick that up and definitely not steal it for us? Good baby Jedi. Thanks for the Caff. Tell Vos to stop haunting the lower levels. It's OUR job to hunt criminals for sport, not his.
Yes, sir o7
Of she goes? To the Senatorial Garage. It's mostly droids. Of LOOK! I have this handy little tool! Pop. Pop, pop, pop~! Hey? Wanna fuck over the asshole who doesn't appreciate you, steal this ship, AND save the lives of small children?
BOY WOULD THEY! Says local every droid in the Ship pool.
Great! Just figure out where the trackers are, how to turn them off, and when it's time? Meet a one of these locations for pick up. We're gonna NEED you. Like... actually NEED. Not "I'm throwing my money around on the latest and greatest then not USING THEM FOR ANYTHING" supposedly need. You'll have SO MUCH WORK.
(They're gonna cry in Binary. Omg? Fuckin FINALLY???)
And so... inevitably. The clock ticks down. The drama of adults ramps up. They smuggle a few clone troopers through surgery. Try to warn the others. Know it won't be enough. The momentum is too great. The gears of War will grind over everything.
Like a forest fire... the old has to burn away for new growth.
But like hell is she letting that come at the cost of tiny bodies. Clones trapped in their minds forced to fire upon children. There will be enough horrors this day. This can be on less. They WILL be ready. And... they are.
She sees the council running out. Knows what it means. And she does NOT hesitate. Her signal goes out. Her Padawan helpers dropping everything to BOLT for the Creche and the go bags stored there. They are followed by friends. Who do not understand, but trust them. Who's Master's do not understand, but assume this is some plan they were not told off.
It certainly seems so, when in the distance? They hear the temple gaurds fighting to hold the line. Hear blasterfire. They race down the hidden paths. Are met with droids, loading up food and medicine, leave as soon as each ship has the assigned numbers. Again and again. Senatorial chips mean instant pass into space. Important business, you understand.
The droids will follow, with everything. Including what was nailed down. Probably the nails too.
Might steal the hammers while they're at it.
Next stop? Wild Space.
Explorcorps newest finds. FRESHLY deleted. All points warning already being sent. A Fuck You Very MUCH, Sith-y Pants. You'll not be getting ANY of the Corps workers if THEY can help it. And hey... the Masters and a few knights were a pleasant suprise. Them and their squad of rescue troopers? Almost make enough adults to take care of everybody!
Now all they have to do? Is hide, rebuild, and regrow.
Return when Luke has down his Luke thing.
Who knows... not her. She made a plan and she DID it. Some one else can decide for a while. She's just a kid. Tell her when they get there, okay?
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dreamwritesimagines · 2 years ago
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Garden of Secrets [20] - Heliotrope
A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤
Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!
Summary: Having too many drinks can lead to honesty.
Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of sex, mentions of violence, slow burn.
Word Count: 4300
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When you went to bed that night, right before falling asleep you decided that this whole feelings nonsense was probably like some sort of fever; you would sleep it off and it would simply go away.
Except that it didn’t.
So the next morning you just figured it would probably take a couple of days to go away, just like any flu. It surely was as annoying as the flu, but you were sure you were going to be able to think straight in a couple of days.
Any day now.
So you had thrown herself into any kind of distraction you could find, but seeing that you no longer had a garden you could work on, it wasn’t as easy. You were nearly restless, your hands itching for the garden but you managed to keep it under control, only helping Bess and your aunt with their plants instead of working on your own plants.
Desiring your husband whom you hadn’t consummated your marriage with was not something you could even get any advice on. The whole ton and everyone close to you thought you were deeply in love and thus, you liked spending time in bed together. You and Benedict were so good at pretending to be in love so it wasn’t as if you could just tell Josie without raising any questions.
You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed Benedict entering the library. You were seated on the comfortable sofa by the huge window, resting the book on your legs with a warm cup of herbal tea on the coffee table by your side, the sunlight falling over you, making you feel all warm. Your head shot up when Benedict cleared his throat and your heartbeat paced up as soon as your eyes fell on his handsome figure leaning sideways to one of the bookshelves.
“I was wondering where you were,” he said and you smiled at him, then tucked your legs underneath you to make room for him on the other side of the sofa.
“Charlotte is busy with her siblings and Josie had things to do so I left there early,” you said. “You were painting when I got back, so I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“You never disturb me,” he said and motioned at the sofa. “May I?”
“Absolutely.”
He came to sit beside you, his pleasant scent tickling your nostrils and you ran your fingertip over the page of the book absentmindedly, looking at him.
“Did you finish the painting or take a break?”
“I took a break so that I could really absorb myself in self-doubt instead of trying to do that and paint at the same time,” he pointed out, making you let out a laugh.
“Ouch. One of those days?”
“Mm hm.”
“Do you want me to talk badly of your artistic idols? Because I can, very easily.”
He chuckled. “I appreciate it,” he said and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, I guess you know, with the party tonight…”
You frowned for a moment before snapping your fingers.
“Right, the party tonight!” you said. “I forgot about that.”
“Do you still want to go?”
“Of course,” you said. “I want to see that part of the city at night but do you want to go?”
Benedict nodded. “Yeah, absolutely.”
“We can just go some other time if you want?”
“No no,” he said. “It’s not that. It’s just— you know, everyone keeps asking me why I’m applying for the academy next year instead of this year.”
You bit inside your cheek. “But you don’t want to apply this year.”
“I don’t know if I should,” he said. “I feel like I need more practice.”
You shrugged your shoulders. “You don’t owe anyone any explanation. It’s just not in your plans this year.”
“Well yes but Henry and all his friends are convinced that it makes no sense I wait for the next season when I can easily be accepted this season as well.”
You hummed. “Pin it on me.”
“Hm?”
“Tell them I’m—I’m the reason why you’re not applying this year,” you waved a hand in the air. “Marriage responsibilities, distraction, I take up all your time when you should be working on your art, your pick. Isn’t that what artists and writers do? Have bad spouses?”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“That’s what I read,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “No seriously, we’re married now so we can use each other as an excuse for everything.”
He pulled his brows together. “What did you use me as an excuse for?”
“The opportunity hasn’t risen yet but I’m sure it will eventually,” you pointed out. “And when it does, I will not hesitate.”
Benedict chuckled and heaved a sigh, leaning his head back to close his eyes.
“I could say I’m too taken by newlywed bliss to pay attention to my art actually,” he murmured, and the simple term made your heart skip a beat, your dream flashing before your eyes and you cleared your throat.
“There you go.”
He opened an eye to look at you. “So I’ve been thinking.”
“About?”
“You’re free to say no if you don’t want to, but after the season is over, we could go on a trip if you’d like.”
“I thought we were going to your home in the countryside after the season was over, until the next one.”
“Our home and yes,” he pointed at you, making you repress a smile. “But this was supposed to be our honeymoon right? And we didn’t even go anywhere, so let’s do that after the season. A belated honeymoon trip.”
Your heart beat sped up. “Benedict…”
“I use the term honeymoon loosely,” he added in a haste. “I don’t expect anything of course.”
But you did.
You expected something, and you wanted it to be soon.
“Just a friendly trip,” he said and you licked your lips.
“Where?”
“Where do you want?”
You let out a laugh. “I’ve only seen two cities in my life, here and where I was born. I don’t think I can give travel suggestions.”
“There must be somewhere you want to see.”
“It was never much of a possibility for me so I didn’t really think about it,” you confessed and lifted your head. “Wait, Rome has a bunch of art right?”
“That’s one way to put it, yes.”
“Can we go to Rome?”
“Because there’s a bunch of art?” he asked with a smile and you let out a noise of agreement.
“That and other things,” you said. “It could be fun.”
Benedict’s smile widened and he nodded his head.
“As my lady wishes.”
“Good,” you said, mirroring his smile. “Rome it is.”
                                           *
As far as you could tell, tonight was going to be rather chaotic.
Apparently one of Benedict’s friends had rented a whole house just for this party -an inn, you were told- and he had also closed down the entire street for it and moved the party there. Benedict had asked you to stay close to him as soon as the carriage stopped and considering you had never been on this side of the town, you had agreed. He helped you out of the carriage, and you fixed the silky skirts of your dress before turning your head to look at the crowd, your mouth opening slightly. Everyone seemed to be having so much fun, completely drunk already, the music coming from the house reaching outside.
“Wow.”
“Mm hm.”
“What about the officers?” you asked. “I mean this is something else right? The street?”
“Well, this part of the town is barely quiet at night,” Benedict said. “And if they’re paid off well, which I’m guessing they were…”
You let out a whistle and Benedict grinned, obviously pleased with himself.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” he asked and you waved a hand in the air.
“Go ahead.”
He put a cigarette between his lips and lit it, the memory flashing through your head like a lightning, making your heart beat faster. You shifted your weight and averted your eyes, then stood on your tiptoes to see through the crowd. Some of the guests had gathered up in the middle of the cheering crowd to play a game, a tugging war if you weren’t mistaken, and a chuckle escaped from you as one group pulled the other one hard, making them fall down to the ground, all of them still laughing and yelling.
“I was never good at that game,” you muttered to Benedict and he raised his brows.
“You played it?”
“I grew up in the countryside, Benedict,” you reminded him, still grinning. “I certainly didn’t spend my time learning how to play the piano and dance.”
“I heard Daphne say you can play the piano,” he teased you, exhaling the smoke upwards so that you wouldn’t breathe it in. “And we do have a music room—”
“Do not dare,” you pointed at him, making him chuckle.
“I would be the only one to hear it.”
“Not a chance,” you said, a shiver running through you as the cold wind blew over your skin. Benedict noticed it immediately, shrugging off his jacket to drop it over your shoulders.
“Thank you,” you said, your cheeks burning and he smiled at you.
“Of course,” he said. “Want to go inside? It’s probably warmer there.”
You nodded. “Yeah. I also want that drink from the last time.”
A playful glimmer started playing in his blue eyes and he flicked at the cigarette lightly with his thumb so that the ash would fall.
“Lovesick honeymoon couple?”
“Lovesick honeymoon couple,” you said with a giggle and he put the cigarette between his lips, then threw his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer. You inhaled his pleasant scent as discreetly as you could, feeling like your whole face was on fire and you reached out to entwine your fingers with his, then you both started walking to the building, a couple of people greeting you by the door.
The music was even louder inside but it did nothing to drown out the chatter and laughter completely. A footman came to take Benedict’s jacket off of you and Benedict grabbed two glasses from the tray another footman was carrying, and handed one to you.
“There you go,” he said and you clinked it with his, then took a big sip, letting the liquid burn down your throat.
“Are you nervous about tomorrow’s dinner?” you asked and he chuckled.
“Should I be?”
“Nah, I mean…” you trailed off. “Josie does have her moments from time to time and she will certainly question you, but you should be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah because Bess likes you. Well, she likes everyone but Josie will go easy on you if Bess likes you.”
He pulled his brows together. “They’re that close?”
You tried to keep a straight face. “Uh huh. Very close.”
“I was beginning to think you two wouldn’t show up,” Sir Granville’s voice reached you and you looked over your shoulder to see him with a beautiful woman by his side.
“Sir Granville.”
He waved a hand in the air. “None of that, call me Henry,” he said. “This is Lucy, my wife. Lucy, this is Y/N, the infamous Venus Flytrap who captured our artist.”
You let out a laugh. “Quite the introduction.”
“I’m honored,” Lucy said, “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Benedict rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight for some reason.
“How’s the new painting going?” Henry asked Benedict who shrugged.
“There’s something missing, I can’t figure out what yet.”
Henry shook his head slightly. “Y/N, will you please tell this husband of yours that waiting for the next year to apply to Academy is nonsense?”
“Well that would be quite hypocritical of me,” you said airily before Benedict could open his mouth to argue. “Considering how hard I tried to convince him otherwise.”
Benedict’s eyes turned to you, a small smile curling his lips and Henry pulled his brows together.
“Why?”
You tipped your glass in Benedict’s direction slightly. “You didn’t tell them?”
“Tell us what?”
“Well he had mentioned the academy plan before we got engaged but when he proposed, I told him I would only marry him if he promised to spend some time with me on the first year of our marriage,” you said. “Granted I was bluffing, I was going to say yes anyway but it worked.”
Lucy let out a laugh. “Oh my goodness.”
“What, as if the academy wouldn’t take up all your time?” you asked Benedict who nodded fervently. “See? And this is my first season! I wish to enjoy it, the art world can wait until the next season.”
Henry chuckled. “Well I suppose love rules all of us.”
“Let them be,” Lucy said. “She has a point. I sometimes don’t see you for days when you are working on a piece, and they’re still on their honeymoon.”
“Well my only consolation is that artists in love give masterpieces,” Henry said dramatically and Benedict wrapped an arm around your waist to squeeze it, as if saying thank you, then nuzzled at your hair, making your heart skip a beat.
“You’re not the only one who wants to enjoy this season darling,” he said, making your eyes snap up at his and you giggled, resting a hand on his chest as you turned to Henry.
“So no, I’m not going to convince him otherwise,” you said with a smile and he held up his hands.
“I know a lost battle when I see one,” he said. “Fine. But make no mistake Ben, I will drag you out of your marriage bed next season if you don’t apply.”
“I will,” Benedict said with a chuckle as you downed your drink. “I happen to want to get into the Academy, remember?”
“Y/N, I’m just going to grab you before you become a part of this argument,” Lucy said and tugged you by the hand. “Let’s get drinks, you and I.”
Benedict looked between you. “Lucy…”
“I’m not going to steal her, don’t worry,” Lucy joked and linked her arm with yours, and you two walked away from them to the other side of the room where the drinks were being served.
“Have you ever been here before?” you asked Lucy, “This part of the town?”
“More than I could count,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I like parties, and this part of the town is quite scandalous, which means no one will bat an eye no matter what anyone does here or on the street.”
“Is that why the host shut down the whole street?”
Lucy shrugged slightly. “You’ll see once people get drunk enough,” she said and took a glass from the footman, then handed it to you. “You included.”
“Oh I’m not going to drink that much,” you said with a laugh and she tilted her head.
“This is a party,” she reminded you. “The whole point of being here is getting drunk and having fun.”
“I know, I know,” you said. “I’m just not good at letting go of control.”
“Aren’t you on your honeymoon? I’d have thought you were used to letting go of control by now.”
You choked on the drink you were sipping on and Lucy let out a laugh.
“Easy there.”
“Uh…” you cleared your throat. “Yeah but it’s—you know, that’s different.”
She shot you a mischievous look. “They expect women to be the paragon of propriety but as soon as you get married, you’re supposed to turn into an insatiable vixen behind closed doors with the snap of a finger,” she said. “Not to worry. It takes a bit of time even with the one you love, or so I’ve been told.”
“So you’ve been told?” you repeated and she winked at you.
“I was never that good at following rules, before or after marriage.”
You repressed a laugh. “You and I will get along well I think.”
“I’d hope so,” she said and her eyes stopped on someone over your shoulder, making you turn your head but as soon as you did, your heart dropped to your stomach.
Apparently Henry was pulled away by another friend of his because he was talking to another gentleman, and Benedict seemed to be in a deep conversation with a really pretty lady. The bitter taste burned your throat, making you down your drink in hopes of getting rid of it as the lady let out a laugh at something Benedict said, making him chuckle as well. She looked up at him through her lashes, admiration etched in her beautiful features and your jaw clenched as you narrowed your eyes.
Alright, you had to calm down.
There was no reason for you to feel bad. This wasn’t even a real marriage.
“He is quite popular but don’t let that make you jealous.” Lucy said and you turned to her, then let out a scoff.
“I’m not the type to get jealous,” you said, grabbing another drink from the tray before taking a big sip, shaking your head. “I’m not. I’m really not.”
“Say it one more time and I’ll believe you.”
“I’m—” you stopped yourself and took another sip, then stole a look at Benedict before forcing yourself to turn your glances to Lucy. “Uh, what’s that pretty lady’s name?”
“Lady Margery Sutton,” Lucy said. “She was widowed last year when her husband got lost in a ship accident after only three years of marriage.”
“Oh,” you said. “Sounds tragic.”
Lucy shrugged her shoulders. “I doubt she ever liked him much, certainly didn’t mourn him,” she said. “She had so many suitors but she picked Lord Sutton because he had an enormous wealth.”
“Really?”
“Mm hm,” Lucy said. “Even now she has quite a number of suitors. Breaks hearts here and there.”
“Does she now?”
“And she is a lover of art, or at least that’s what Henry claims.”
You bit down on your tongue, raising your brows. “How interesting.”
That sounded exactly like your plan before getting married, and it looked like Lady Sutton was enjoying widowhood well. If it were the start of the season, you would have actually admired her luck but now…
Now you could hardly focus on the conversation from an unreasonable anger burning through you.
“Are you alright?”
You downed your drink, then grabbed another glass again, clearing your throat.
“Yes of course,” you said. “Why would I not be alright?”
“Because you said you didn’t want to get drunk but you are drinking quite fast,” Lucy pointed out. “If this is about their conversation, I wouldn’t be worried. Benedict is completely in love with you, any idiot could see that.”
No, Benedict and you were just pretending and you had no idea why the mere presence of this Lady Sutton was enough to make you want to go over there and pull him into a kiss. You dug your fingernails into your palms and managed to give Lucy a small smile, then shrugged your shoulders.
“I’m not worried,” you said calmly, and Lucy grinned.
“Good,” she said and linked her arm with yours. “Now come with me, I have so many people to introduce you to.”
                                                 *
Alcohol had a way of relaxing you and making you all giggly even though you had been quite tense at the beginning of the night. The sunrise was merely an hour away when you decided to leave the party and unlike you, Benedict had made sure to stay sober throughout the night so that he could take you home safe and sound.
Now to think of it, he had done the same during the last party as well.
Your stomach was doing flips, no doubt the consequence of drinking too much, and you took a deep breath as the carriage stopped in front of your house, by the stone road. Benedict helped you out of the carriage and you looked around, then gasped.
“Benedict, the garden!”
He pulled his brows together. “Hm?”
“Look at the garden! Look how pretty!”
“That’s our garden dearest,” he said with a chuckle. “You see it every day.”
“No but it’s so pretty!” you said and darted to get to the garden, Benedict catching up with you quite easily to press a hand over your waist to stabilize you when you stumbled.
“Easy,” he said, smiling. “Let’s not run around while you’re drunk, hm?”
“I had like…” you tried to count in your head, narrowing your eyes. “Only a couple glasses.”
“I counted eight.”
“You counted wrong,” you said with your nose up in the air and he nodded, biting back a smile.
“Mm hm, of course.”
You looked up at him, admiring how handsome he was under the moonlight before that warmth spread through your lower stomach and you exhaled through your nose, clenching your teeth.
“Unbelievable.”
He frowned. “Hm?”
You motioned at him. “You must do something about this.”
“About what?”
“Your face!” you exclaimed. “And the—the rest of you! Do something!”
“Y/N, what—?”
“Ugh!” you stomped on your foot and wiggled out of his grip to walk away from him to get closer to one of the flower beds and sat down on the ground, your skirts fanning around you. Benedict approached you, then sat beside you.
“Why exactly are you angry at me all of a sudden?”
You pouted your lips, shrugging your shoulders.
“Why do you look so handsome all the time?” the question came out of your lips as an accusation. “What—what’s the need for that?”
He stared at you as if he wasn’t sure how to answer that.
“Uh...?”
“There’s absolutely no need for that,” you cut him off before he could say anything else and he pursed his lips together, trying to keep a straight face.
“Right. Yeah, you’re right.”
“So, you know,” you motioned at him. “Make it stop, alright?”
“I’ll try?”
“Good,” you said. “Much obliged.”
He nodded slowly, resting his fist over his mouth to hide a smile and you turned to look at the flower bed, then grabbed at his arm.
“Do you know what these are?”
“Not at all,” his voice was soft. “What are they?”
“Chrysanthemums!” you said. “They need to be given enough time and space to bloom and there are so many requirements, like you cannot keep them in too hot or too cold climates, but especially too cold. They die otherwise.”
“Really?”
“Mm hm,” you said. “And you can also eat them—well, make tea with them. It’s quite lovely, good for headaches and such.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I did,” you said, shooting him a proud smile and reached out to touch one of the flowers. “I miss it a lot.”
“Miss what?”
“Gardening,” you murmured, “It’s quite difficult not to. I didn’t even step a foot in the greenhouse ever since I moved here.”
“Why don’t you…?” he trailed off and stole a look at the flowers before turning to you. “Why don’t you do it then?”
“Because I will start to like it.”
“Good?”
“No it’s not,” you shook your head. “Because then it would be sad when you decided to take it away from me.”
He blinked a couple of times. “What?”
You reached out to pull at a small yellow leaf, hooking your fingernail between the leaf and the stem until you nipped it and withdrew your hand to look down at it.
“Y/N I would…I would never,” he said, making you look up from the leaf.
“Hm?”
“I would never take anything away from you,” he rasped out, his eyes locked in yours and you bit inside your cheek, ripping a piece of grass off the ground.
“Maybe not at this second,” you murmured, wrapping the piece of grass around your pointer finger and he shook his head.
“Not ever. I just—” he paused for a moment. “I just want you to be happy. Is that so hard to believe?”
You shrugged your shoulders, still playing with the grass.
“Um…” you trailed off. “Sometimes.”
“Why?”
You shrugged again.
“I don’t know,” you admitted and then raised your glances to look up at him. “But if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t use to believe it at all. But it’s sometimes now.”
A gentle smile curled his lips. “Is that a good sign?”
“It’s a sign I think,” you muttered as you laid on your back to fix your gaze on the glimmering stars. “I don’t know if it’s good or bad yet.”
Benedict’s smile widened and he nodded.
“I’ll take it,” he said, still keeping his eyes on you while you pointed at the sky, closing an eye so that you could see better through the blurriness which was yet another result of you having drunk too much.
“Benedict?”
“Yes my love?”
You were way too distracted to even notice the term of endearment slipping out even if you two were alone now.
“Look, it’s Andromeda!” you said, still pointing at the sky and he looked up, then turned to you.
“You remember that?”
You pulled your brows together, following the stars with your finger.
“I always pay attention to the things you say,” you admitted, dropping your hand to hide your yawn. “Even when you don’t think I do.”
A soft light appeared in his gaze and you heaved a sigh, closing your eyes.
“I’ll just sleep for five minutes here and then we can go back inside,” you murmured, your voice already drowsy and you heard Benedict standing up, then felt yourself being lifted up into his arms.
Even if you wanted to say you could walk, you were too sleepy and his arms were way too comfortable so you buried your face into his hard chest, enjoying his pleasant scent while he carried you inside, a soft sigh leaving your lips.
Then, sleep pulled you into its cozy warmth.
Chapter 21
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aaluminiumas · 11 months ago
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Into the Weave
Chapter One can be found here.
The detritus of the dilapidated temple was stinking death.
At first, you discerned nothing but sandy-colored ruins: thick clouds of dust wafting in the air covered the view. At the same time, the irregular, crooked outlines prepared you for the ruthless sight: the theater of cruelty was about to unfold before your eyes.
Once the dust settled down, you realized with horror that the square before the shrine was strewn with corpses. The unnaturally outstretched arms of one cadaver reminded you of an ancient mythical character who dreamed of flying to the sun. Not far from him lay a nun with a frozen rictus. She was clutching a white volume with gold embossing in her hands. From under the massive column that had once adorned the entrance to the temple, charred tibias protruded. On the altar, next to the Holy Book rested a severed hand with a thin ring inlaid with a blue gem. On the blood-stained pages, you made out a prayer celebrating a certain Aurora, a goddess whose name Mystra, for some reason, desperately wanted to erase from people's memory.
Out of the blue, Gale emerged. He wiped a red splatter off his cheek and winced as his sleeve brushed across the ragged edges of the wound. It wasn't his first battle, true, but he rarely got involved in fights, so he seemed a little disoriented and dazed. By the time he appeared on the battlefield, the melee had already been in full swing, and he did not have time to process the situation. Was it Mystra who started this ugly mess to help him get rid of the remorse that was sure to overwhelm him later? Or was there another cluster of fanatics wanting to take back something that never belonged to them in the first place? Was there a community of hostile bigots ready to take offense at a quiet cult, worshipping an unknown deity? Maybe the situation was much more complicated than he imagined... and much more nuanced than Mystra had described?..
Gale glanced at his hands and distantly registered that they were stained with gore, but he couldn’t comprehend whether it was his blood or someone else's. Mystra's sweet admonitions prevailed, and he participated in the massacre. Blinded and intoxicated by the mere idea of indirectly promised power, the wizard lost control and severely lambasted a belligerent cleric darting toward him with a scimitar. The goddess's voice throbbed in his head, reverberating and repeating, taking over his will. He could not think straight. Every picture his mind offered was generated by an erstwhile exchange with Mystra.  
Now he should stop and ponder things over. 
Glowering, Gale looked around. He approached the nun with the white book and carefully pulled it out of her lifeless hands. Aurora's Scripture. 
Breezing through the pages, the wizard tried to plow through the rituals, customs, and traditions dedicated to this deity, and when the realization struck, he stood there, rooted to the spot. 
Aurora, whom Mystra proclaimed a petty demon, was just a minor goddess of dawn. No matter how much she wanted to destroy the world, she simply did not wield enough power to compete with Mystra—or other known gods. 
Did Mystra... lie to him? Was it all... hoax?..
Suddenly, the picture fades. The memory dissipates.
“In a sense, I am still responsible for the destruction you’ve just observed,” Gale sighs, clearing his throat. “If you say we part ways after what you saw… so be it. I have been stalling for months, wondering if I should reveal this embarrassing fragment of my miserable biography, and the only purpose I pursued so far was honesty. I am not an infallible human. I am not the ideal man you may be looking for. I am not the perfect partner you undoubtedly deserve. I did wreak havoc in the past, punishing innocent people who worshipped a harmless goddess of dawn. I will not try to justify my wrongdoings by a maudlin apology or mawkish explanations; I know the only reaction it will provoke will be sheer repulsion,” the wizard paused for a moment, as if trying to regain his composure. “Probably, you might be feeling aversion already. Well. I am guilty. And I will accept your decision if you feel this burden is too much for you to bear.” 
You raise your eyebrows, not fully comprehending his train of thought. Are any of you perfect anyway? He seems to be comparing himself to the other members of the party, not even grasping a simple concept: you are ready to accept him the way he is. Yes, he’s made a lot of mistakes, blunders, even. Yes, he cannot be forgiven on the basis of his lack of knowledge. But hell, hasn’t he sincerely admitted that he was blinded by his love for Mystra—for the Weave, Magic incarnate? He was ready to sacrifice his own being to touch the untouchable, to dissolve in the endless patterns of sorcery and become history—in the most literal sense of the word. To many, these ulterior or not so ulterior motives evince his desire to make a difference, or exhibit his ambitious nature. To you, they represent his vulnerability: driven by his ungovernable imagination, Gale can throw himself in the thick of it, forgetting of his human needs.
You are here to tame his passions. You are here to become his pillar. You are here to help him navigate. The past should remain in the past, along with the vindictive goddess, claiming him her minion every time she needed to reassert her authority and do the dirty work. The past should remain in the past, along with the undulating affection, severe mood swings, and precise instructions directed at innocent people she chose to abhor. 
Gale takes your hands in his bigger palms and carefully brushes his lips across your knuckles, leaving a gentle, chaste kiss. In a moment, he softly pulls away and resumes his lengthy monologue.
“Tav… These hands are covered in blood. I will not caterwaul about it, swearing up and down that I didn’t mean any harm and it was Mystra who bludgeoned me to do it. But I will do my best to deserve you. I will rectify all my mistakes—”
You can’t wait any longer. Gale is certainly known for his propensity towards verbosity, but you’ve always told him that his practiced tongue should find some other use than futile volubility. Normally, he cackles at this and winks, feigning embarrassment, but you know his other penchants, too. But these are between you two. Not for anyone else to know—not even for Mystra.
Smiling, you squeeze his both hands and nod, putting an end to his inexhaustible loquacity. With a forceful tug, you haul him over to the tall sculpture of Mystra at the far wall of the temple. You know what he needs. 
Closure. 
He has to reconcile with his past to take a first step forward and start from scratch. His errors have contributed to his personality, and Mystra, no matter how much you disdain her for the haughty treatment and ambiguous decisions, has molded the man you love and admire. He is not perfect. But he is good enough to right the wrongs and atone for his offense.
Standing before the towering silhouette of Mystra, Gale grows silent: his distinguished eloquence gives way to speculation. He is contemplating his own choices, reflecting on the previous experiences, but his ruminations don’t seem to be boiling down to a bleak blur of old recollections. No, he’s meditating on his future—the future devoid of outright manipulation.
The wizard peruses the refined features, but his gaze is lacking habitual awe, reverence, and veneration. 
 “I’ve spent years loving you like mad,” he suddenly blurts out under his breath. “I sacrificed myself to the Weave to just feel the familiar tickling at the tips of my fingers. To just feel you. But you never loved me back. I was such a fool.” 
He shakes his head in frustration and sighs again. He is not the one to mourn his past, but it has never dawned upon him how much time he has actually dedicated to someone ready to spare him once necessary. Yes, Mystra is a proud goddess; she has her own views on what's right and what's wrong, but has she ever tried to condescend to a human being she’s teasingly called her lover? Has she ever taken pains to explain her vision of the world she has been planning to create?
Out of the blue, you sense a slight shift in the atmosphere, the tickling at the tips of your fingers. Is this the magic he’s constantly talking about? Is this what it feels like to be able to control spells? Is this is the sensation the Weave gives anyone it chooses? Whether it is the Weave to blame, or the inner impetus caused by a powerful emotion you dare not name, you approach Gale from behind and tenderly place your warm hand on his back. You don’t want to ruin the moment of the wizard, blankly staring at the monument, but your subtle touch only creates magic between you two. He quivers, wakes from his trance, and looks at you. With increasing astonishment, you realize he’s beaming with love and endearment. Sure, you’ve seen this emotion before, but he’s appeared so reserved that you’ve started to think you might’ve spotted a mirage. He’s been so affected by his previous setbacks that he’s never relinquished the hold on his feelings.
            Now he is contented. He feels safe, at ease, taken care of. And the thought that you’ve helped his wounds heal excites you so much that you cannot suppress your own smile.
 “On a brighter note, I seem to have finally found my personal happiness. One thing gods will never experience.”
You emit a quiet chuckle. This propensity towards verbosity is incurable, but at this point all his non sequiturs have become a charming idiosyncrasy you’ve learned to appreciate. Besides, you’ve found a way to shut him up. One kiss to his cheek is sufficient to silence him, but you can’t miss a chance to irk Mystra, so you press a fervent kiss to his lips—for the arrogant goddess to see. In fact, you’d do so many other things in front of that lovely sculpture, but you have to be respectful. At least, appear to be respectful.
You don’t know whether Gale reads your mind or his intuition tells him something you don’t know, but he turns to the stature again, straightens up his posture and says a few words that still resonate in your head. He has rejected the plaguing passion of the Magic—and chosen you over the Weave.
           “I will be your obedient servant, Mystra. But I will never knuckle down again.” 
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whisperofthewaves · 3 years ago
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good gods there are parts of this book that still don't make sense to me even after reading all the so far published tomes in the series.
who/what tf is axis the collector. what was that sea spren with shifting faces looking to the Origin. I have no memory of this place and no idea how relevant it is in the later books, or if it gets explained (in)directly
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wincore · 4 years ago
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atlas | kim dongyoung
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pairing: doyoung x reader
words: 15.4k
summary: kim doyoung has a lot of titles. student body president, music club president, favourite student of every professor who’s blessed enough to have him. in other words, he’s not your type and never will be. at least he’s a good kisser.
or, you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and you do not know how to hold things as delicate as glass.
genre: college au, fwb au, hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff 
warnings: very suggestive content, making out, language, smoking, alcohol, mentions of sex under influence, me being pretentious,,
prompt: anonymous said: slippery + doyoung + "you can rely on me, you know." from the first dialogue link! LOVE YOU ❤️
song rec(s): playlist here !
a/n: yes it’s me experimenting out of my comfort zone again. yes you are required by law to listen to keshi while reading this hahahaha anyway writing this was painful. <3 (aka today i tried writing very complex human emotions and failed again. classic.)
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In the beginning, there was no beginning. Ergo, this isn’t really a thing.
You shouldn’t be thinking of summer in Introduction to Latin. You are a good (perhaps great, if your ego allows) student after all. Here you are, though, listening to the ticking of the clock and wondering if you sigh loud enough, you won’t have to construct another sentence with the word for ‘death’. You pause to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be thinking of summer out of class either. Unremarkable; that's what it was and you don’t like unremarkable things.
When two people end up alone together, there’s not much to make of. 
“You know,” he had said, locking eyes. “We should get out of here.”
“And then what?”
“Fuck.”
So here’s the thing: this isn’t and won’t be a thing.
Doyoung has never been subtle when drunk, you found out, and he’s not as gentle as he looks. You flip the page of your notebook absentmindedly. You don’t like where your thoughts are going; the clinking of ice against glass rings in your ears again. It’s been far too long (one whole month) and you’re craving a bit of fun. You may forget yourself but you’re reaching your fingertips a little too far to call him again. More excuses pop up. See, in your world of perfection, there’s a hierarchy of things; men rank rather low. 
(Fun doesn’t.)
Here’s another thing: you forget yourself quite often. You know very well that you’re the one who continued this not-thing and now you’re daydreaming of Kim Doyoung in class hours. 
And under grey bed sheets with a tired smile, Doyoung is hard to forget. 
It was a party, it always is. That time, however, was the first party of the year Doyoung and you happened to be attending at the same time. You can’t remember who hosted it—the frat probably—but it was at a bar called the ‘The Meeting Place’ which had too many people you didn’t care about. Doyoung was there, in his laid-back glory, and you were drawn in far too easily. Being single did not help your case—and the alcohol certainly didn’t. You’re not sure if it was the gentle touches against your wrist or quick words that left his mouth or the attractive all-black get-up. All you know is that it was your mouth against his by the end of the night in a small booth, hot and impatient. Once, twice, thrice and you didn’t even need parties anymore. 
It’s not like you weren’t aware of what you were doing; it’s just that you were quick to give in—like you didn’t want to resist in the first place. And now, summer smells like Doyoung’s perfume. 
The first night had given Mr. Student Body President a near-stroke. You weren’t the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men at parties either so the morning had been full of awkward explanations to each other till you’d kissed him to shut him up (much like in a disgusting romantic comedy, minus the feelings) and somehow, it worked. He didn’t refuse and if you recall, he’d eventually pulled you closer by the waist.
You huff, twirling your pen. He’d never admit it.
You didn’t kiss so sloppily after that, unless it was to make out against a wall or while fumbling with the keys to your apartment. The lack of alcohol can bring wonders. You were a little surprised that he’d agreed—he is the Doyoung you’ve known since freshman year after all; blunt, rude, cares more for his grades than he’d ever for you. How laughable. He’s almost the same as you.
Here’s one last thing: Kim Doyoung is not and cannot be your type. 
You had the same part-time job in your second semester at a local fast food joint, and to summarize, your interactions were less than friendly. You can’t possibly count the number of times he yelled at you for trivial mistakes, and the number of times you sent angry, clipped sentences his way. So, yes, neither of you have told anyone—just acting friendly got you enough eyebrow raises.  If there’s anything worse than contradicting yourself almost directly, it’s having to explain that to your friends. So, you kept it a secret and so did he, for his own reasons.
You massage your forehead. If you think any more of this during class hours, you’re going to have to classify this as a terrible, terrible problem; like you don’t have enough already. You tune in to the lecture again, hoping it drowns out the rest of your thoughts. 
You tap your pen against the desk till you’re asked to stop by the professor. There goes your last resort. It isn’t the first time, but you breathe a sigh of relief at the hands of the clock. Casual means casual—you know it better than anyone. Maybe it would be easier if you could be more open about it. But you can’t. Your own problems aside, Doyoung would kill you if his reputation went down, even a nick. Men like that are so difficult, you curse to yourself. 
You run into Ten in the hallways, brightening at his absurdly wide grin. In fact, you haven’t seen him remotely upset since freshman year, when he couldn’t join the dance club, not because he failed the audition but because he mixed up the dates and missed it entirely. (It’s okay; he got in the next year.)
“Guess what!” he yells before you’re even in conversation range.
“What?” you yell back.
“No, guess,” he says, when you’re close enough.
You roll your eyes. “You scored a date?”
Ten deadpans. “No. I don’t even want one.”
“Loser.”
“No, you.”
“How clever.”
Ten flicks your forehead with no provocation whatsoever, making you yelp in pain. After a minute of cursing on your part, he squishes your cheeks to bring you back to reality—like he wasn’t the cause. You bite your lip to keep yourself from scowling. His hair is still light brown from the bleach, and you fix his bangs out of habit; your dumb friends are all you have at the end of the day. You sigh. They all lean on you unwittingly.
“Anyway, the news? I’m not guessing anything else,” you warn, taking a sip of your coffee.
“Well,” he draws out the syllable. “I heard- know you’re into the smart type. You know, student council kinda guys? So…”
You choke, the coffee leaving your mouth just as quick as it entered.
“Who told you that?” The laugh that leaves your mouth is forced and certainly fake but it’s the best you can do.
Ten rolls her eyes, still smiling. “I was thinking if you would be interested in a certain Park Hyungmin.”
Oh. Student body vice-president. He’s most definitely your type, with a gifted body and equally strong academic prowess—not to mention perfectly maintained tan skin and the most radiant smile you’ve ever seen in your life. 
“Oh, yeah, he’s hot,” you nod in agreement. “What do you want me to do with him?”
“He likes you. Like, totally has the hots for you. And I owe him so please help me out here.”
You furrow your brows, heaving a deep sigh.
“You...want me to go on a date with him?” you ask. 
You can oblige. Park Hyungmin is the hottest dude on campus (probably). It’s a win-win situation—in fact, it’s even better. A certain bitter taste finds itself in your mouth. It must be the coffee. You swallow it. 
“Yeah.”
And the deal’s done.
It was casual commitment, like most things you do for fun. You don’t think much of it, and the thought takes its final bow when you run into Doyoung himself.
Well, sort of.
You turn heel when he appears in your line of sight, pretending to fix your hair against a damn wall. You aren’t quite ready to face him yet, considering the coffee hasn’t kicked in—it’s not healthy how much you depend on it. Dependence is different, however, from consciously drowning yourself in it. 
See, Doyoung is anything but tolerable without a few shots of vodka. Or after sex. Or when he’s mumbling in his sleep. And you can’t erase any of those scenes. This is you trying to save yourself (and Doyoung) from embarrassment and a whole lot of explanation.
His coat looks expensive and you’d rather he had it on instead of on his arm. The tucked-in sweater and pants combo accentuates the line of his waist and the colour—you wonder where he found a teal so fitting—looks serene in the crowd. He’s wearing his glasses though, looking a little less put together than usual. Still, no one seems to notice and he continues to explain something to his group of friends.
God forbid you find Doyoung attractive during daytime.
His lips are chapped but pink as ever, the hair messed up by either the wind or his friends—you should stop staring by now. You give in. You’ll text him to book a hotel room tonight.
Sometimes you wonder how he has that large a friend circle, and always, the question answers itself. Eloquence, wit and regrettably, good looks—what does he lack? Maybe if he lost the habit to nag people around fifty-six times a day, he’d be the perfect man.  
An arm slings over your shoulder, punting the soul right out of your body.
“Fuck, Johnny, don’t do that,” you hiss, placing your hand over your chest involuntarily. 
The head of the photography club apparently spends his time terrorizing everyone he remotely knows. You make a foul expression but iIt’s not like he ever minds your scowling. He says he’s had enough practice from teasing Doyoung (and you’ll admit, it’s the only time you feel sorry for him). You were certain Doyoung would have filed him for harassment sometime in sophomore year. 
“What are you even looking at?” Johnny asks, raising an eyebrow at the plain offwhite expanse of the wall in front of you.
You feel hot at the neck. “I was fixing my hair.”
“In front of a wall?”
You click your tongue. “Do you not have class?”
“Oh, don’t be so quick to send me off.” He places a hand over his chest in mock hurt, fingers stretched delicately. 
To your dismay, the rest of his friends gather around giving you happy greetings—greetings only carefree college boys are capable of delivering. To your further dismay, Kim Doyoung arches an eyebrow at you, the same way he does on nights you’re doing things less than appropriate to think of in broad daylight.
“Hey, Doyoung, don’t you have anything to say? Or were you too drunk to remember?”
You bite down on your lip a little too hard. Doyoung, on the other hand, looks like he’s just seen God, stammering out a “what?” nevertheless.
“Weren’t you supposed to buy (name) a drink for driving you home that night?”
“Right,” he says, clearing his throat.
Oh, he’s bought you a drink enough times. Summer has waned but whatever thread you tied around your wrists hasn’t. Right now, your guess is that Doyoung has been ensnared in the common ritual for college boys to walk around campus and declare their friend is single just to embarrass him (or by some miracle, score him a date).
Everything, apart from the way you look at Doyoung, feels like a charade. You shake your head with a quick laugh, smacking Johnny in the arm and pay your condolences to Doyoung—keep it light. You’re good at it, or pretending you’re good at it, at the very least.
Doyoung’s gaze on you lingers for a moment and then you breathe. You’re going to be late for class—you offer the classic excuse and you’re out of there. In a way, it’s exciting. You’ve always wanted to have a secret relationship, even if this isn’t a real one. 
Doyoung is like the summer breeze, and you’d like for him to stay that way.
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The next time you grace each other’s presence is when Doyoung’s tongue is in your mouth and his hands are running up under your shirt. 
He’s quite a pretty sight—messy hair, red lips and rosy cheeks. He moans into the kiss as he has quite a few times now and there’s the lovers’ high running through either of your minds. When he presses his lips to your neck, a soft restrained sound escapes you, not quite prepared for the sting of electricity through your skin. He moves to your collarbone and shoulders and then even lower, hands gripping your waist tight. The walls do not have ears here; these hotels are cheap but they’re built for privacy and maybe you’ll let yourself believe for once that you can belong to someone.
“Why did you text me in the middle of the goddamn night?” he mutters against the base of your neck.
“You want reasons now?” you whisper, hands running through his hair.
Doyoung has pretty fingers, pressing at the right places and prettier eyes that look at you with something akin to, dare you say it, love. He kisses you like he hasn’t had enough; and it makes you feel important.
He’s even better when he’s annoyed.
You wake up at around five in the morning. Propping yourself up on one arm, you take a moment to look at your partner. It’s easy to make out the line of his nose against the pillow, and if you focus, you can see his lashes against his cheek and his dark mop of hair clinging to his forehead. However gentle the moonlight is, it is kindest on a lover. 
Funny.
Too tired to sneak out, you go back to sleep.
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“All I’m saying is that you have too much coffee,” Doyoung complains, slipping on his loose black sweatshirt. “It can’t be good for your health.”
You shake your head, scrolling through your phone as you lay on your belly. You’ve seen this view enough times—his back to you and sitting at the opposite edge of the bed, his incessant complaints and opinions about something that happened recently, running his hand through his hair when he sighs. You press on the calendar app and type in a note labeled ‘x’. Keeping tabs isn’t a bad thing; especially if you like order. Spending too many nights with someone is going to land you in trouble. That said, if you could trap love in a bottle, you would.
“You taste like coffee,” Doyoung adds with reddening ears.
Sometimes, it’s easy to ignore what he says if you listen to the sound of his voice instead. You sit up, scooting closer as Doyoung shoots you an alarmed look. He’s so cute like this; something about all the painted fences he puts up around him makes you want to lean in closer.
“So,” you poke his side. “How many relationships have you been in? Proper ones.”
“Three,” he answers, to your surprise.
Your eyebrows shoot up. “That’s more than I’ve been in!”
Doyoung furrows his. “How many have you been in?”
“One.”
He seems equally surprised but doesn’t probe further. After all, the price sticker that spells ‘youth’ clings to his forehead just as it clings to yours. 
“How many people have you fucked?” you ask suddenly, enjoying the visible flush across his neck.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” he notes, flicking your forehead.
“Ow!” You place your palm against your forehead. “Okay, I get it, you have nothing to brag about.”
He shakes his head, an exasperated sigh leaving him. “I just don’t think you have to know. I like privacy.”
“Wait.” You gasp. “Don’t tell me- That night- don’t tell me you were a virgin—”
Doyoung squishes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, a laugh erupting from your mouth. 
“Who’s a virgin?”
Nothing about this, you find yourself realizing, is complicated. It’s easy, gentle, natural, like a breath of fresh air—everything but complicated. Even under dim lights and within the depths of night, Doyoung is warm and uncomplicated. His chest, his hands, his lips—they are warm, as are his words. 
But Doyoung is a fucking fairytale.  
Even after these few months, all you know about him, in the definitive format, is that he plays the keys for more hours than he sleeps. What he does for fun, what his classes are, how he became student body president—you could play guessing games all night.
“Do your friends know where you spend your nights?” you ask, leaning back against the pillows.
“They know what I’m doing, not who I’m with,” he responds, running his fingers through his hair.
You purse your lips. It’s nothing hurtful but you don’t like the hush-hush in his tone.
“Why not?”
“Because this is a secret,” he responds as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Do you want them to know?”
He’s right.
“Ah, whatever,” you mutter, a stream of curses following when your elbow collides hard with the edge of the bedside table. 
“Your mouth is filthy.” He looks away to his phone. “I don’t swear as much.”
“Well, of course it is. I had your—”
Doyoung presses his palm against your lips with a tired sigh. “Please. Don’t speak. For the sake of my sanity.”
You smile under his hand and he returns it; and the November morning warms up.
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“Where were you last night?”
You were expecting the question. Areum is the worst possible candidate for a roommate if you want some privacy. You don’t think she ever sleeps; sometimes, you wonder if she even showers because all she does is stare at her laptop screen and adjust her designs. Her lips are always chapped and her hair is always in a simple low ponytail but somehow still messy. You’ve never met someone so exhausted yet so full of life at the same time.
“Who were you with last night?” Eunji yells from the bathroom, before the two of them laugh.
You knew you shouldn’t have stayed the morning. You have the nosiest roommates anyone could (not) ask for. But they’re still your friends, you tell yourself begrudgingly. You would tell them about Doyoung if it weren’t for Eunji’s big mouth and Areum’s lack of common sense. And if it weren’t for the inherent comfort of privacy.
(Some part of you wants to keep him to yourself. You don’t care about student council president Doyoung or his friend group’s everything-regulator Doyoung or always-has-his-shit-together Doyoung. The one in your bed is the most loving.)
Areum adjusts her glasses, narrowing her eyes at you. “So? Any answer?”
You break out of your daydream at her voice, feeling a flush creep up your neck.
“I don’t have to explain anything,” you retort, snatching the coffee she brewed from the tabletop. “It was a Friday night and the two of you like Netflix more than me.”
“That’s mine,” Areum mumbles out a weak complaint.
“But don’t go out alone,” Eunji whines. “It can’t be safe.”
You laugh. “You know me. I don’t do anything too dangerous. Besides, you guys have that tracker app.”
They shrug, offering you a thin smile. A part of you is happy that they trust you but another part wonders what it would be like to be worried over. Maybe getting nagged isn’t so bad. 
You take a sip of Areum’s coffee and almost spit it out right back. 
“Did you add salt?” you ask, wiping at your mouth and hoping the taste disappears.
“Uh.” A reply so intelligent, you wonder if she ever pays attention to anything she's doing. 
You take a moment (a few), sigh (several times) and make your way to the shelves. Grumbling, you make her a proper cup of coffee before you leave.
Classes don’t wait for you (even if you think they should) and the world doesn’t wait for you (again, you think it should wait for people) so you’ve made it a point to understand the whole deal about rules. If everyone followed the rules, it would be quite a pretty scene; messing up is only valid if it’s done prettily. You laugh at the thought. That’s near impossible. The bus ride to the campus consists of music and thoughts of bleak tomorrows—an average commute for college kids, you think. You sure hope you aren’t alone in this.
Doyoung smiles at you in the hallway today, and despite your best efforts, it makes your day smell a little fresher.
Your day: classes, coffee break, classes, complaining with Ten, assignments, ‘me’ time. For someone who pretends to be laid back, you use your planner as though for survival. There’s no sticky notes or colourful sketches (except on occasion); just good old fashioned to-do lists and a calendar marked with time you’ve spent on productivity. Every day is a list to be completed. If people call routine a man-made cage, instinct is the biological cage. You’d rather be in control of the cage you’re in. You’d rather be in control of yourself. It’s scary otherwise.
So you know how to get the job done—it’s ingrained into you the same way you would place your hands over your ears at loud sounds, or the way you would run to your bed in the dark after switching off the lights.
It never occurs to you that the reason your world is so perfect is a sad one.
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Sometime next month, it’s going to snow. Not yet though, and it’s still too cold.
The inside of the cafe helps the slightest, the heaters situated far back from where you sit. Christmas decorations are up already and the combination of red and green meshes delightfully into the form of an aching headache. The wood paneling on the walls are worn at the corners, the garlands hardly covering them, and the barista behind the counter seems as gloomy as the decorations are bright. You wouldn’t be noticing all of this if you weren’t stuck in one position.
You lean your cheek further into your palm and sigh, only this time Ten asks you to, quote, ‘shut the fuck up’.
He pulls up his sleeve and reaches for another pencil. His cryptic process continues, as it has been for the past half an hour and you feel yourself getting impatient, trying to not bounce your leg and get another bout of quibbling from your half-mad artist friend. You don’t usually run low on patience; but Ten has a special pass to test drive it.
“How much lon—”
“Shh!” He hushes you quickly. You can’t remember why you agreed to being his portrait study subject but you sure as hell regret it.
Around fifteen minutes later, you take a (permitted) breath. You have neither the energy nor the neck strength to glare at Ten but you make sure to show your displeasure by snatching the cookies from the table with a particularly sour look. He gets up and pushes you to the side of the small worn-out couch offered by the equally small booth.
“God, that chair was uncomfortable. My butt is frozen solid,” he lets you know, and you roll your eyes.
“You know, if we weren’t friends in high school, I would never be friends with you,” you state.
Ten tilts his head to the side, a mocking pout over his lips. “I would die without you, (name). Really.”
You smack his arm and he yelps, smacking your arm right back. The sound attracts some attention and giggles, and you make a gagging gesture to let them know you are in way or form in a relationship. The low-volume music changes to something with a more distinguishable beat, the sound of doors opening and closing almost every two minutes accompanying. Arriving on time is an accomplishment, especially arriving before rush hour on Fridays at the only decent cafe on campus, but both of your classes end early and there is no way you aren’t taking advantage of that. Leaving, however, is mostly done when you’re being glared at by the waiters and waitresses.
“Doyoung asked about you,” Ten says, all of a sudden. “Kim Doyoung.”
You try to not show concern, but raise an eyebrow. “What? So? He’s not my type or anything.”
You bite your tongue. That was too quick a response, too obvious. Your cheeks grow hot. Ten doesn't say anything, however, and for a moment, you think you’re in safe waters. 
“Are you guys… into each other or not?”
You cough, trying to show your surprise at something so outrageous. “Why would you think that? Does he look like someone who dates around?”
“Actually, he’s been on quite a few dates.”
“No way.”
You know that. He’s told you about it before, in vague references, but you know about them nonetheless.
“Isn’t one student council guy enough?” you mumble. “Why are we talking about Doyoung?”
He shrugs, a familiar feline smile on his face. “Just asking. He talks about you sometimes. Actually, we forced it out of him but whatever.”
You shake your head. “You’re all terrible.”
“You seem to like him though.”
“Who said that?”
Ten sighs, ignoring your question. “If you guys are dating—”
“We’re not.”
“—or fucking—”
“Ten.”
“—you should learn a thing or two about him. The guy’s not as annoying as he looks. Or stuck-up. He’s really nice but don’t tell him I said that.”
“I know that,” you snap, feeling warm at the neck all of a sudden. “I know him.”
“Oh, you do? Tell me what his hobbies are then. Or his major. Or the clubs he’s in, apart from the student council.”
“He- He likes to sing and he’s- he’s—god, what is this? An interrogation? I’m not going to meet his mom for dinner.”
Ten gives you an ‘I knew it’ look before leaning his elbow onto the table. “You’re sleeping with a guy you don’t know anything about. Serial killers would love you.”
You massage your forehead. “Look, I know he’s a good guy, okay? And he’s sweet- and- and—wait a minute. Oh my god, you tricked me.”
Ten lets out a snort. “Hey. Okay, look, the other guys might be dumb as shit but I have, you know, a working set of eyes. I can tell. It’s not that hard.”
You grumble but the cat’s out of the bag anyway. You should’ve known Ten would figure it out—he’s a nosy little shit, and he’s been that way since high school.
“Whatever. As long as Doyoung doesn’t start panicking about his tarnished reputation or whatever.”
“Oh, I think he’s desperate to let everyone know.”
“To you, Ten, everything seems obvious. It’s annoying.” You mess up his hair.
“No, I mean, I thought you were dating.”
“Well, we’re not.”
Ten shrugs. 
“And I don’t like him,” you add. “I like the- the thing that’s going on because there’s no feelings attached.”
He looks somewhat pained, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, but doesn’t respond to your explanation. “Can I ask for a favour?”
“No.”
Ten sighs. “Come on. You didn’t even hear me out.”
“You’re going to say something stupid. Or insulting.”
“It’s neither, promise.”
You run your hand through your hair, breathing shallow. “Fine. I don’t have to agree though.”
Ten purses his lips. “It’d be better if you did.”
You hum in response, biting into the cookie and trying to ignore the glare from the nearby waitress. It’s about time you left anyway.
“Get to know him, dude. Don’t break his heart.”
“What?”
“Just kidding. There’s a party tonight. Hosted by yours truly. Finally moved out of that stinky dorm room. Bring over some friends but not more than three. And lend me some money for a juicebox.”
“That’s a lot,” you mutter. “You ask for a lot of favours.”
“Oh, speaking of which, Hyungmin—”
“He already asked me out on a date. Am I supposed to say no? You never mentioned he has such an attractive voice.”
“Oh, I’m not telling you to not go on that date. You have to, actually. I’m going to be in a lot of trouble otherwise.”
“That sounds good to me.”
“Shut up. I’m not done speaking.”
You roll your eyes.
“But if you didn’t, I could draw some conclusions.”
“What am I, your chemistry experiment now?”
“Well, you and Doyoung seem to be—”
“Don’t complete that sentence.”
“I was going to say something funny.” 
Ten flashes you a blinding smile and you sigh. By now, you’re about to get kicked out of here so you stand up discreetly while he packs up his stuff. You hug your jacket close to you as soon as you leave, shivering at the evening breeze. The sky is inky, but with a faint sort of ink—deep blue and light, all at once. From the crowd, you can tell classes just got over for quite a few people, eclectic chatter filling up the street.
“Fine. I’ll bring Eunji,” you tell Ten after some contemplation. “And whoever else responds to my text first. Areum never leaves the room. You know that.”
“Thanks, (name)!” he messes up your hair. “I would give you a kiss but someone will end up punching my pretty face.”
You furrow your brows. “Well, you’re not my type anyway.”
“I’m too good for you,” he responds in a sing-song manner, waving at you before running off and disappearing into the university crowd.
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There’s always a sort of buzz in the air you can’t quite describe at college parties.
Even if this is a relatively small one, you feel an oncoming headache the moment you enter Ten’s new apartment, which you’re sure had a ‘no parties’ rule in the rental contract. You spot Kun, Ten’s roommate from the dorms and he flashes you a quick smile in greeting before he’s swept up by a doting crowd. Apparently, a cute guy in animal sciences is rare and it makes him rather popular.
Eunji disappears from your side the moment she spots Johnny, and the number of eye rolls you’ve given her haven’t warned her off him yet. You suppose it takes heartbreak to change a person. Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen only to be greeted with the strange sight of Yuta trying to balance Jaehyun on his back so they can imitate some anime formation and back out immediately. Living room, it is, despite its populous space. (You don’t really want to think of bedrooms right now.)
The apartment is quite big for what Ten told you the rent was. The hallway to the two bedrooms is narrow but you suppose something has to be sacrificed for space. You furrow your eyebrows at the two bedroom doors. Ten never said he was getting a roommate. You shrug it off, sitting down on the rather stiff couch. The lack of furniture, apart from the couch and a coffee table, makes the place look even larger and people sparse. You like the beige walls; Ten’s always loved warmer colours but something makes you think he’s going to be ruining them in a few days with garish green paint before he comes crying about that to you.
“Hey.”
You look up to the familiar voice, heart rising to your throat.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Doyoung remarks before sitting down beside you and offering you a cup of god-knows-what.
“I don’t take drinks from strange men,” you say, biting down your smile and crossing your arms.
“If you didn’t take drinks from strange men, we wouldn’t be fu—”
“Doyoung!” you hiss before looking at him with careful suspicion. “Are you drunk?”
“No. A little bit. Not enough.”
You sigh. “How will you get home now?”
“I live here, idiot.”
“You’re- You’re Ten’s roommate?” you sputter.
“Yeah. New one,” he responds. “He used to live across our room in the dorms, I can’t believe I actually agreed to this.”
“I can’t believe it either. I’ve seen cats and dogs friendlier with each other than the two of you.”
Doyoung laughs. “He’s surprisingly one of the better people to room with. I’d rather eat my own blanket than room with Yuta again.”
You laugh at his irked expression, eyebrows furrowed so cutely. The line of his brow bone to nose to lips, it seems a little too perfect to belong to someone. He relaxes his shoulders a little, leaning back on the couch as he looks somewhat lost in thought. (“You think too much,” you’d told him once. “And you think too little.”) If only that were true, you smile to yourself.
“Are you sure you can hold parties here?” you as when the music suddenly rises in volume.
“Well, it said student-friendly,” Doyoung responds, looking visibly disturbed. “Not sure if I want to test the limits of that so early.”
There’s a pause, filled in with loud pop music. You don’t think Ten, your dear introvert, would have agreed to such a party but there’s a chance Johnny or Jaehyun had something to do with this. You don’t know who to suspect when it comes to their group of friends.
“I still can’t believe you’re rooming with Ten.” You look at Doyoung.
“Well, that makes, what, eleven of us, I guess?”
You laugh, feeling conscious all of sudden. Maybe you should listen to Ten’s advice.
“Doyoung,” you call, looking at the cup in your hands a little too passionately. “What’s your major?”
He looks at you with eyes widened ever so slightly, and a pause over his lips.
“Linguistics,” he answers.
“Oh. You said something about it once,” you mumble, recalling something vague about an assignment of his. “You know mine?”
“Yeah,” he answers, eyes cast on his watch.
“Well, that makes me feel a little guilty,” you mumble as softly as you can.
“You should be,” he says. “You never listen to anything I say.”
You scoff. “You just complain most of the time.”
“Really now?”
“Yes,” you snap, looking away.
You look back again when you hear the sound of Doyoung’s laugh, a distinct brightness in it. Sometimes, you wonder if you really are as awful as you’ve made yourself be.
“You’re cute,” he says. “No wonder everyone is so in love with you.”
For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you.
“Everyone?” you laugh. You don’t care about everyone. It’s burdensome.
“Everyone. They hate you too, by the way.” He smiles to himself. “Heard you’re going on a date with that dimwit. Hyungmin.”
You feel a sudden discomfort in your being. Taking a sip of the drink, you try to shake it off as best as you can. 
“Yeah, I- I don’t think I’ll go,” you say, waving it off. 
Why are you lying? You left it hanging on a maybe. Part of you wants to tell Doyoung; he is your friend after all and you tell friends stuff like this. The other part tells you this is cheating; lying and pretending everything is okay—it feels like cheating. 
“Oh.” He looks lost before he focuses on you. “Why not?”
“Why do you care?” you ask, trying desperately to calm the uprising in your chest.
He stays quiet for a few seconds and then shrugs, looking away from you. It makes you feel a little guilty to dismiss the situation so quickly, another item to add to your troubles. You sigh.
“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” You can see his Adam's apple bob up and down.
“I’m not,” you say. “I’m wrong. I really didn’t mean it.”
He looks at you all at once, his gaze so gentle that it makes you think he wants to kiss you, or do something equally affectionate. Instead he sighs, downing whatever’s left of his drink before a wash of sudden looseness does away with the tension in his body.
“You have any more questions for me?” he asks, smiling. “What's it like to be student body president—or, or what instruments can I play? My favourite animal? Colour?”
You smile back. “What is your favourite animal?”
“I don’t have one. Don’t like them. Unless it’s a soft toy.”
“No way. You’re lying.”
“Now, I answer your questions and you call me a liar? Makes me a little hesitant to answer the next.”
You roll your eyes. “Okay, next then. Why didn’t you join the frat? All your friends are in it.”
“Hurts my ego.”
You laugh. He’s still probably an honorary member. There is no way he’s apart from friends for too long with all those feelings of fraternity he has, no matter what he says. It’s the same as you. Affection leads nowhere though; just to short-lived moments of comfort.
You realize, through the course of the night, that you never asked. How he got into the student council, what his classes are, what he does for fun—you never asked. It’s almost like you didn’t want to know. 
How sad, you muse to yourself, to be this way. To be so wrapped up in your own problems that you fail to see people around you. Pity, however, isn’t something to feel at a party. You talk with Doyoung for the rest of the night till the sound of his voice makes you feel certain ghosts of butterflies, and till you have to take Eunji home before she does something she regrets. This is what it really means to have the price tag of ‘youth’ strung across you perhaps—when you feel old and immature all at once, and in between, when you feel nothing at all.
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Doyoung is too old to mistake love. Or too young. 
Labels don’t define anything, especially when it comes to relationships—so even if he calls it love, whispers it to himself at midnight when he’s sitting alone on his bed while his friends are passed out drunk on the floor, it is empty. And then there’s you. The heat of your skin, the curse of your smile and that cheeky laugh you do to get on his nerves. He wants all of it and he’s not ashamed—but he’d be a liar to say he can shout it to the whole world. He’s not that kind of man, and what is his can remain his without the rest of the world prying its damn fingers in. The first night, no, the second—third? He can’t remember which night it was but something pent up in him exploded and he didn’t try to control it for once.
“Ow,” he mutters.
His throat burns from the whiskey. He hates drinking alone but you’re either asleep or with friends and he can’t think of anyone else but you. He tugs at the turtleneck collar, getting uncomfortable by the minute, and then proceeds to take off his coat.
For a moment, he considers getting back to the living room. There were more than enough people with lingering touches against his shoulder and longing gazes—they’re not you. He leans back onto his bed. Another hour and everyone will be gone; why did he even let them hold a party in the first place? Parties just remind him of you—he takes a whiff and smells summer and lemon vodka all of a sudden. A deep sigh leaves his lips.
You might not seem to find yourself especially sad, but Doyoung finds something oddly touching about you. Maybe it’s the way you say his name, he muses, like you’re desperately trying to fill the gaps. But it can’t be him in particular, of course—it’s a lover, any lover.
He hates long nights, just as he hates winter but lately, they haven’t been feeling too cold. Isn’t it ridiculous the way he’s running after you? Doyoung was never meant for this. It’s fucking pathetic and it makes him want to tear all his hair out but there he is, still and quiet in the same place. A certain agony makes its way through him. His hands are freezing and yet his insides are burning—nothing makes sense and right now, he doesn’t want it to. He presses his cold hands to the warmth of his cheeks and a laugh erupts from his mouth.
He must be going crazy to laugh like this in an empty room. The car lights from the window travel slowly from wall to ceiling, the only thing moving in the stagnant of his room.
Inevitably, he thinks of the end. It should come quick; in fact, he’s never been one to do this. He’s always been someone to get attached to people. He doesn’t know how the end will come because this shouldn’t have begun in the first place.
Doyoung’s out of breath.
“Crazy bastard,” he mumbles to himself, followed by a groan when he lifts his head up. As if on cue, the door opens and shuts with a bang. Ten walks in looking drowsy, running his hand through his hair with a disgruntled face.
“I hate to say this,” he slurs. “But you’re right. We can’t have extra furniture and parties. Gotta choose one.”
Ten lays down flat on the bed. “I vote out that ugly ass clock you bought. Why do we need it? We have phones and laptops.”
“It was a gift,” Doyoung mutters.
“Oh. Uh. Actually, someone already, uh—”
“Leave it. We’ll talk about that in the morning.” 
Doyoung massages his forehead, groaning at the pain when Ten suddenly decides he’s all up for cuddling. 
“Ew,” he says, scooting away from Ten. “Get away from me.”
“You don’t mean that,” Ten whines, trying very hard to pull Doyoung into a hug. Of course, his attempts are blocked by Doyoung’s palm against his forehead.
After a few more seconds of trying, Ten huffs and turns away, crossing his arms. “I don’t like you anyway.”
“I know,” Doyoung mutters.
Ten erupts into laughter, sounding more like a psychopath than a close friend of his.
“You do that every time you like someone?” he asks in between fits.
Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “I just said—okay, yeah. Whatever.”
There’s a much needed silence and Doyoung wonders if he can just fall asleep without kicking Ten out.
“You should tell (name),” Ten says all of a sudden, Doyoung’s heart stopping at your name.
“What?” he whispers.
Ten looks at him as though he’s talking to a particularly stupid child. It makes Doyoung scowl but there’s too much alcohol in his system to know if he really means it.
“You don’t- you’re- everyone in this goddamn building knows,” Ten explains, exasperated. “Jaehyun knows, and he’s the densest kid I’ve ever met. God, if you like (name), go for it.”
Doyoung blushes so deep, he considers pressing his palms to his cheeks again. He thinks for the next few moments. Ah well, if they had to find out, he’s glad he didn’t have to declare it himself.
“Whatever, just ask (name) out. It can’t be that complicated.”
Except it is. You don’t have to spell it out for him—he knows the way you feel. The two of you only ever wanted one thing out of this. But if there’s something Doyoung isn’t good at, it’s keeping his mouth shut. He wonders how many times he let it slip, wonders if you even care enough to notice. God, it’s starting to sound pitiful for him.
“Ten. How much did you drink?” Doyoung asks, raising his head.
“Nothing. None. I’m not drunk.” Ten shrugs. “Just sleepy.”
A ‘wow’ is all Doyoung can respond with. He still isn’t quite finished figuring out what sort of horrific planet Ten stumbled from. A notification ding distracts him from kicking Ten off his bed and he has half a mind to toss it onto the bedside table but it’s still half. He softens almost immediately.
It’s a text from you: a ‘u’ followed by a smiley face and then a meme he can’t quite read through hazy eyes. He finds himself smiling anyway and sends a barrage of emojis, whatever he finds because he likes the way you get annoyed at them. Sighing, he decides that’s enough. He’s not in the right state of mind for conversation.
Doyoung shuts his phone off, attempts to push Ten off the bed one last time before closing his eyes and dozing off.
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Not every day is meant to be fun—you know that in your twenties—but it’s still somewhat disappointing to have bad days. Like youth is meant to give you some sort of happiness daily. That’s what they make it sound like.
You groan, rubbing at your back. Sitting at your study desk for so long does not have good long term effects. At least, your temporary, meaningless assignments are done. You scowl at the text on your laptop screen; the more you look at it, the more you hate it and so, you shut it off. It’s not like your pissy professor is going to be impressed by anything you do. However, you like the orderly certainty of schoolwork.
Break time consists of guilt and sugary snacks. You’re done with most everything and you suppose leaving the final review of things to a later date can’t hurt. In fact, it sounds rather appeasing. A few more moments pass in making a decision.
You get dressed. The apartment feels eerie all alone, and you’re sure as hell not going to spend the rest of your evening here. You shiver, quickly striding out the front door and locking it before taking out your phone.
People misunderstand winter. Winter is only the end of things; and sometimes, the beginning. It isn’t cruel or crushing, it’s just taking its course. However, you have a tendency to blame seasons for all that happen in it. For instance, you shouldn’t be missing summer when you really miss the first night with Doyoung. 
He picks up after calling thrice. You wonder what he’s even up to, if Saturday evenings are also booked full for such a guy.
“Why do you take so long to pick up?” you complain. “Do you not get days off?”
“I’m busy,” he hisses. 
Something’s wrong.
You pause, unsure what to do. It’s not his voice but the one in the background that catches your attention. 
Inviting him somewhere. 
Rather sensually.
Your ears feel hot and you drop the call. Of course. Of fucking course. You’re the idiot thinking it was a thing. This whole thing is casual—feeling sorry wasn’t in the contract. Fucking around was.
It’s not like you’ll be heartbroken by something like this. Of course not. Of course. Doyoung and you never had a beginning so there isn’t an end, really. It’s fine. It’s fine. You take a deep breath and browse through your phone. With the onset of Christmas holidays, you have around three options left. Ten (yikes), Jaehyun (no way) or the latest addition, Hyungmin.
Well, you’re dressed. You have to go somewhere. And your statement about Hyungmin being the hottest guy on campus still stands.
You send two texts to the boy before deciding that’s apparently enough time waiting. He picks up after a few rings, voice groggy from what you assume to be a late afternoon nap.
“You up for a drink?” You cut to the point.
“Uh? Oh, uh, now? I am, of course- I just need—”
“Twenty minutes. I’ll text you the address.”
Nothing cheers you up like your favourite bar. Or friends. Or people who respond to calls.
Hongdae is as busy as ever. You knew the bar would be packed but not this packed. Still, you managed to grab a seat at the bar table. With the oncoming night, the smell is just going to get worse—so there’s nothing wrong with treating yourself to some lemon vodka (and its refreshing scent).
Hyungmin arrives exactly four minutes early, and the mussed up hair makes you think he must have been in a hurry. For what, you can’t be sure. 
You can still see the inklings of Hongdae nightlights on his hair right before he enters, and in the fallacy of that moment, you think it’s going to be Doyoung. You sigh. This isn’t the time for that.
“Sorry,” you say, gesturing to the bar table. “All the tables were booked.”
“No, no,” he responds quickly. “I actually prefer it here.”
He’s tall, not that it’s the first time you’re noticing, but even when he’s sitting, he’s at least two heads taller than you are. His shoulders are accentuated by the mocha coat, no doubt part of the latest trend this winter. As a fashion student, he hits the mark and more. 
For a moment, you feel bad for knowing his major. Ten let it slip about him and yet still, you feel guilty for remembering it. You’re not supposed to go into unnecessary detail about people that don’t matter. Does he matter? 
“Surprised you could make it,” you joke half-heartedly. “Aren’t you lot always busy with something?”
He laughs. “The student council? Oh, we’re busy alright.”
Busy. Right.
“What about you? Aren’t you part of like three different clubs?”
“So what kind of busy?” you ask, ignoring his question. You’re part of two, now that you left the music club last semester. It’s not like small talk matters though.
“Uh,” he hesitates. “You know- attend meetings and events, coordinate committee work, supervise stuff, etcetera etcetera. So busy, yeah.”
“Busy on Saturdays too?” you ask, before thanking the bartender for the drinks.
“Yeah, I guess. Doyoung has it worse than me honestly. Even now, he has to take care of stuff because of me. Hah…”
You gulp down your drink making Hyungmin raise an eyebrow in concern. “Stuff? Because of you?”
“Yeah.” Hyungmin scratches the back of his head. “He’s with the girls.”
“Girls?” you ask, playing with the glass. You’re starting to feel annoyed, red lining your vision.
“Yeah.” He makes no notion of clarifying his statement.  
“Must be quite the president,” you say, resting your cheek against your palm.
“Oh, he’s a nightmare.” Hyungmin laughs. “He has to control everything.”
You try to mask your scoff. You know what he can be like when you’re working beside him. 
“Oh, and the guy has no sense of humour,” Hyungmin laughs, the sound easy on the ears.
You blink.
“I think he’s funny,” you say quickly. You swear you have no idea why you sound so defensive.
He hums in response and you consider biting your tongue, telling him you’re only here for one thing and forgetting the uncomfortable churning of feelings inside your chest.
“Forget I- I’m a little confused today.” 
Is that an acceptable explanation? You can’t think straight enough to decide. The silence on Hyungmin’s part, however, worries you. The crowd around you fills in for the next few moments as your companion seems to debate something with himself.
“Look, I know you and Doyoung are… I don’t know, something.”
You huff in irked amusement. “God, does everyone seem to know?”
“Not until late actually.” Hyungmin takes a gulp. “He’s been acting weird. Doyoung.” 
You look away, breathing shallow. You don’t like it, the way things seem to be getting out of hand. All this time, the world seemed to be in the palm of your hand and now, it’s spilling everywhere; the sand in the hourglass is already up to your knees and you don’t know what happens when it fills.
“Do you actually like him?” he asks, leaning back just a little. You know where this is going. “Are you guys dating?”
“No,” you respond, checking your watch.
“Oh.”
There’s a moment’s hesitation in him but you’ve seen that look before. You know that look.
“Then we can- uh- we can—”
“Fuck?” you ask.
He gulps. “I mean, you can say no any time—”
You pull him by the collar and kiss him, hard enough to melt away your hovering thoughts. He kisses like you expect him to, not how you want him to. You know this sort, and somehow, that makes you feel comfortable. Knowing what you’re getting into is easing but it doesn’t lessen the weight of it.
It’s sickening. The way you’re pretending it’s Doyoung.
Hyungmin pulls apart, panting heavily. “Oh, okay.”
“Tell me you drove here.” 
He holds up his car keys in response.
You’re not the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men, but it’s better than falling in love with them.
So you follow a lover to a hotel room and try to feel something. Some time, when he’s kissing you against the hotel room walls, he pulls apart and asks, “You’re thinking of someone else, aren’t you?”
You know the answer; it just won’t leave your lips.
“It’s okay,” he says with a weak smile, “Let’s just have fun.”
And every time his mouth was on yours, every time you saw stars, you felt the ghost of Doyoung and his haunting touches. It was strange and unfair and unlike you—or at least, unlike the you that you built over the past few years. You feel as though you’ve misplaced something—like something was supposed to be there when you reached out but instead, it was empty space.
The night ends as it should and you leave right before dawn with an apology text you couldn’t put half your heart into.
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Most winter nights, you wake up with pain so profound, it’s seeping into your bones.
It never made sense. You never tried to make sense of it. So you let the aches push you down by the shoulders, lodge itself into your neck and back; and you tell yourself, it must be what you deserve. It’s cold and you’re walking barefoot on frozen ground.
You gasp. The weight of who you are and who you have to be—it has its knee on the back of your neck, shoving you into the damp earth. There’s no particular reason to it; it makes it seem as though it’s insignificant. Unimportant. Irrelevant. But that’s the problem—the weight of the world on your shoulders makes no sense. Whose world are you even carrying? Whose approval are you trying to win? You scramble to get up, messing up your bedsheets in the process, and pull your blanket around you. Your own warmth surrounds you and it makes no difference. You frown.
You remember your phone call with your mom, and your lips tremble. You shouldn’t have told her about how crappy your finals went but it slipped. You tried to explain that you did work for them, that you gave it your best but sometimes things don’t work out. She didn’t have to say it out loud for you to hear her thoughts. 
You’re disappointing. 
You wipe at your eyes, feeling annoyed at the emotion. If you could let the ground swallow you whole, you would. In a heartbeat. You don’t even know what you’re doing most of the days despite that pretty planner of yours.
You get out of bed, pull on your cardigan beside the bed and grab your lighter and pack. The tiny balcony makes for a great smoking spot and while you would scold any of your friends for committing to this, you do it yourself. Hypocrite.
For all you try to shove into yourself—hobbies, student clubs, actual clubbing, friends—the more you feel less than enough, as if everything just vanishes into thin air inside you. As if you aren’t enough and never will be. You play by the rules and you lose, you break the rules and you lose. 
Maybe it’s because you let yourself be filled by the intricacies of other people that they like you. And thus, you cannot stop for fear of loneliness.
Just as you’re feeling crushed again, you picture Doyoung against your back, placing his nose in the crook of your neck—something he has never done—and you wonder why it helps. 
Sucking in air too fast, you cough. You shouldn’t have let it go on for so long.
It was fun—harmless fun. You shouldn’t even be thinking of taking a step in some other direction. You’re friends, barely, but you like where you are. If Doyoung was that important, you wouldn’t be going about this all backwards. You sigh, though it comes out jagged. The room is quiet and that’s the way it should be at four a.m, of course, but you crave music all of a sudden. Doyoung and you are just a temporary fix; and you let that thought relax you.
When you think of his chin on your shoulder, however, it feels feather light.
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“Why are we doing this?” you ask. 
The atmosphere is warm and toasty, just like you expect it to be in a bakery with light pink doors and a collection of plastic potted plants on display. The decorations aren’t an eyesore here and somehow, it makes you feel better. It’s a little far but you decide it’s worth it.
Doyoung shrugs, sipping his hot chocolate. “It’s Christmas, and we’re both here.”
Your eyes follow the hanging lights over the counter, wrapped in pine tree stickers and eventually to the neat display of a ‘Season’s Greetings’ menu, the contents of which are currently at your table. A Christmas song by some singer who’s been popular lately plays, tunes light and dancing. You hate the end of the year solely because of the extra pressure January brings. Nothing you can’t handle, of course. Nothing you can’t handle.
You sigh. It’s been a little difficult lately.
“Doyoung, really, why are we doing this?” you ask, genuinely curious.
“Are you- uh- are you not enjoying this? I could—”
“No! No, it’s not that. I feel better, actually.” You bite your tongue almost immediately after. It’s not like he’s supposed to know the sort of hell week you’re having. A poorly received term paper, finals that weren’t up to your expectations, crippling loneliness without friends and, oh, the self-doubt—you are at the lowest you can be in college. The only sweetener right now is in the hot chocolate and the way Doyoung’s looking at you. 
You feel something close to guilt.
“Good.” He smiles. “You seemed… You seemed a little down.”
The sliver of warmth between your ribs makes you think this is unreal. It feels uneasy to be so affected by someone but you let it slide, turning back to your hot chocolate.
“Why didn’t you go home this time?” you ask, sipping your drink.
“Oh, I didn't really want to face my parents,” he says before leaning. “Didn’t do too well this semester. And my brother’s going to be there with all his achievements.”
You chuckle in disbelief. “You don’t like your brother?”
“I love him to bits. Just can’t stand my mom’s nagging when he’s around.”
“That’s rich coming from you.” You cross your arms, smiling triumphantly. You feel like children squabbling but it’s so lighthearted, you want to laugh.
Doyoung raises a pointed finger, about to retort but nothing comes out. He puts his hand down.
“I guess you’re right.”
You shake your head. “I’m sure she’s proud of you too.”
“I know that,” he says, laughing. “Of course she is. I don’t keep myself busy for nothing.”
You gulp, a sudden sourness rising at the base of your tongue. 
“Busy, huh? Didn’t know spending saturday evenings with girls also counted as busy,” you mutter against the cup, half-hoping he doesn’t hear you.
“What?” There’s a perplexed look across his face.
You wave your hand in dismissal. “Oh don’t mind me.”
“Are you talking about me giving a tour to the fresher girls?” Doyoung leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Hyungmin does that usually but Mr Man was sore from soccer practice and Friday fucking.” 
You blink. “Fresher… girls?”
“What, did you think I was at a brothel?” Doyoung laughs in amusement.
You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “No! No, of course not.”
You wave your hands about for a few more seconds, trying to come up with an explanation. This makes things rather embarrassing.
“Sorry,” you say finally. “I jumped to conclusions.”
Doyoung laughs, rather deep and heartily, and you wonder if your apology really did sound as stupid to him as it did to you. 
“You do that a lot,” he notes.
“Thanks,” you quip, cutting the pastry with your fork a little too forcefully. His laugh follows. (You hate it so much. It sounds like pure adoration.)
The next few moments consist of scrolling through your phones (because Doyoung says his ‘mouth hurts from talking to you’) and you would’ve been in a better state of mind if everyone wasn’t posting pre-Christmas photos with their families. 
“You know they’re opening that park. What’s it called- Winter Wonderland or something. You said you wanted to visit.”
You look up at Doyoung amused.
“Let’s be honest. You want to be in bed, Doyoung,” you say. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I care,” he answers, looking at you with his doe eyes. “About you. You sulk when you’re upset.”
“I don’t sulk,” you reply but your smile is obvious when you exit the cafe. 
It’s like a date. The more you think of it that way, the more it makes you smile.
The evening is perfect—orange and pink and loving and happy. Doyoung trails behind you as you tread over the sidewalk with cheeky remarks about his speed.
“I’m in the track club, you know?” he huffs, finally tired of your jabs.
“As what, the start point?”
A fake, sarcastic laugh leaves him. “I wouldn’t get to see you if I walked ahead.”
You feel warmth creep up your face. You mumble, “that’s cheesy.” It’s too weak though, and it goes unheard. 
For the first time, you notice his eyes are a little like yours in what they reflect. You love them. 
So this is where the crowd went. The amusement park, or whatever you call it, is buzzing with a faint sort of excitement, mostly in the children that didn’t get to go on a vacation elsewhere. It’s quite the wonderland though so you can’t see them complaining.
“Do you think they’ll kick us out if we make out on the Ferris wheel?” you ask, smiling at Doyoung.
“I’m not making out with you on the Ferris wheel,” he replies, making a face.
You do end up making out on the Ferris wheel, and you get butterflies from it. It’s like a teenage dream but Doyoung looks even better. You pass on the cotton candy because frankly, you’ve had enough of sweet things. You sit at the frozen wooden seat, hoping it warms up while Doyoung brings the two of you some fries.
Your phone buzzes with a notification. Your eyes light up at the mail from your professor. You had turned in the term paper three days ago, weeks ahead of schedule and were particularly proud of the way it turned out. 
You look at the email and zero in on the word ‘redo’.
Your shoulders sag immediately. You spent four weeks on that—and it’s not good enough? You search frantically for how it could have gone wrong and come up with none. That’s not supposed to happen. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong. The week’s exhaustion swallows you up again.
When Doyoung returns, he looks at you concerned before quickly setting the fries on the table.
“(name). Is something wrong?”
“Huh?” Your voice sounds so weak and squeaky, you feel embarrassed. It’s embarrassing that after all these years, you still don’t know how to handle failure. 
Because it’s not supposed to happen. You tell yourself that over and over and it makes things worse.
You feel dirty, underneath all that dust and crumbled rock dangling in your hair. Whatever rests on your shoulders is cracking and collapsing, and you’re pushing in the wrong direction to make sure it all stays up. 
He reaches out his hand but you avoid it.
“No,” you mutter, weakly shaking your head.
You rub at your nose and eyes, hoping you can hide behind your forearms. Doyoung shouldn’t be seeing you like this, he doesn’t deserve to see you like this. You turn away from him, your palm gently pushing against the soft material of his shirt. 
Doyoung doesn’t move. Instead, he gently tugs on your wrist so you have no choice but to face him with your red-rimmed eyes. You’re not sure if it’s embarrassment or pity, but the concern in his eyes makes you cry harder. 
“You don’t have to do that,” he whispers. “You don’t have to find a place to cry.”
For the first time in adulthood, you learn what it’s like to lean your forehead against someone’s chest this way. Doyoung wraps his arms around you and the sound of his breathing soothes your near-erratic heart. 
“I worked really hard on it, you know?” you mumble against his chest. “My term paper.”
“I know,” he whispers.
Doyoung strokes your head delicately, fingers running through your hair with airy touches. Eventually, you let go of a final sigh and look up to his lips.
He seems surprised at the kiss but it’s all you can think of now. It’s gentler than usual and Doyoung moves cautiously though he seems to like it all the same. His arms feel comfortable around you. When he pulls apart, he looks at you yet still with careful concern.
“We can- we should stop if you want,” he says, and he means it. 
You shake your head. Night is creeping in overhead, deep and quiet and slow.
“I like you, Doyoung,” you say finally. “I really, really like you.”
Doyoung’s eyes widen, as though a rabbit wary of the traps it might set foot on but he eases into your touch almost immediately.
“I like… I like you too.” His lips waver but he looks away and takes a deep breath. “I like you so much.”
You smile and think that maybe everything is set right now, with his chin against your shoulder and your arms around him. 
Doyoung discards the jacket once you’re in your apartment, kissing you fuller now. Every other thought leaves you; you beg him to make you forget the rest of the world. The walls are comforting now that he’s here, and it’s warmer, hotter.
“Can we- Can we go a little slower?” you mumble, his arms still gentle when they wrap around your waist. He parts his lips from your neck to look at you momentarily before nodding.
You suddenly understand why he always makes you feel so good. There’s a certain fondness to his touch and warmth to his kisses. There’s no one quite like him, really.
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“I love digging graves, especially if it’s my own,” you mutter against the pillow.
Doyoung laughs. “What did you do this time?”
“This time? Excuse me? Do you think I’m some sort of trouble child?”
“Hm. Let’s see. Yes.”
You pause. Why do you hesitate to tell him you slept with Hyungmin? It’s not like you were cheating—you weren’t dating Doyoung. Besides, that night with Hyungmin didn’t mean anything. A horrid feeling snakes around your throat, heavy and piercing. You resort to changing the topic.
“I’m… I took another course beyond my understanding.”
“That’s it?” he asks.
You nod.
No, no, no; it’s all backwards now and you don’t know how to reverse it.
Doyoung takes your hand in his, delicately and yet firm. His chest is against your back, bare and warm. When he presses his lips against your knuckles, the warmth that flushes through you makes you want to believe in something else entirely. You feel weak. 
A part of you argues that you feel honest—in a moment of clarity you don’t think you deserve. Neither vodka nor whiskey can make you this clear in the head; you struggle to breathe straight. How awful it is to feel warmth and not believe in it at the same time.  
“You can rely on me, you know?” he whispers.
The knot in your chest makes you want to cry.
You feel lonely and the opposite of it all at once. Doyoung is too much for you—too kind, too pretty and too true. He makes you realize too many things at once.
There are a few things in the world that can stifle loneliness. Like the notes Doyoung plays on the piano, like the songs he hums in the morning till you place open-mouthed kisses against his neck.
You realize, all of a sudden, that Doyoung really is your dearest friend.
And yet, you don’t think you deserve it. You’ve never loved, you believe, but you have. You don’t remember it well enough. The lovers’ touches you kept searching for led to this. Hypocrite. You wanted a lover’s touch and you rejected the love that came with it. What a complicated bundle of emotions. You weren’t always this way.
You loved your first cat when you were six, all the way till it died a warm death in your bed. You loved your mother even when she yelled at you for skipping your chores. You loved your middle school friends when you talked about comics and movies you saw for the first time. 
It’s hard to love the same way now.
You suppose sympathy needs a little backstory. Nothing is unconditional. 
It had all started when your heart had broken into two clean pieces. You put a bandaid on it and called it a day. No one taught you to ask for help.
Your friends know someone broke your heart; you tell them everything. Friends, friends—you wanted them so bad and yet, you keep them as far from you as you can. You pretend to be paper-thin and so shallow, sometimes you wonder if that’s all there is to you. But for all they know, they know next to nothing. It wasn’t just the aftermath of reckless puppy love. 
The first time your heart broke, it was watching your mother cry in the living room for a reason you didn’t understand. You wondered who committed the crime, who should be charged—and you found no one. A loveless marriage is cruel, yes, but you cannot point fingers. It isn’t just cruel; it’s infuriating.
The second time, the two pieces of your heart broke into a few more. It was a boy with an inviting smile and flags whose colour you couldn’t quite discern. They must have been red, but everything else was too—hearts, cheeks, lips, and the threads around your wrists. And eventually, he guided you to the conclusion that you are undeserving, unworthy, unloved. 
You were strong, however. It was easy to collapse on the bed and feel the weight of the world settling in, but you stood up again on shaking knees and you told yourself to have fun; you can have fun without feelings. You know better than to attach meaning to fun—you might hate insignificant things but it’s only fun if it’s pointless. You’re not letting go of this place you’ve worked so hard to arrive at, with all the shattered pieces in your hands.
It’s better to offer nothing at all than offer broken pieces.
“Can we stay like this?” Doyoung’s arms tighten around your waist, his breath shallow against your shoulder. “Just for a little bit.”
His voice is beautiful as always, but for a moment, it strikes you as sad.
Everything’s twisting up into knots and you are frantically running your fingers over them to straighten it all out. You know what it’s like to let things rot; and you are tired of it. Why can’t everything disappear for one moment? Why can’t you just let it be the two of you?
You sigh in response, nodding. 
“I might not know what’s happening in there,” he starts, drawing circles on your chest with his finger, touch comfortably light. “But…”
I’m here and I get it.
Is that what he wants to say? You don’t think you’ll get to know. You’re not exactly voicing yourself either. 
Stay the night. You want to say it but your lips are frozen.
Instead, you rub your thumb over the back of his hand, fitting into each other as perfect as a lie. You would tell him, you try to convince yourself, if you could say it with enough conviction. There’s no point to saying things that are half-meant, that are true but only just enough. You’re a coward.
And now, this has gotten complicated.
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An end.
Tapping his pen against the desk, Doyoung grows increasingly annoyed. The council's next  meeting agenda isn’t going to finish writing itself but he can’t bring himself to either. Besides, Ten’s pacing outside his room is starting to get on his nerves.
“Ten!” he yells. “Can you quit it? You’re making too much noise.”
His disapproval is met with silence. For a moment, he spaces out and reflexively thinks of you, only to feel a confusing sort of emotion. It’s normal, he tells himself, and that it’ll sort itself out.
Doyoung feels like a glass box more often than not. If he breaks, who picks up the pieces? Who gets cuts all over their fingers?
‘Whoever breaks him’ should be the answer. But that’s wishful thinking. It’s not that simple. 
He’s so see-through that it’s painful. He used to tell Taeyong he’s wrong but he’s never been able to prove it. He is easy. It’s embarrassing.
But then again, part of him likes it when it comes to you. He likes it when you kiss him after a particularly heated disagreement, he likes when you get on his nerves just so he’d fuck you and most of all, he loves the push and pull. Fun is just that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if that heart of his he placed so gingerly into your palms falls and shatters.
The line between hate and love is thin; and he’s enjoying walking it too much.
He has nothing to offer but himself. He laughs at the thought and shakes his head. It’s somewhat dirty, and not just in the sexual sense.
“Ten!” he yells again. “Stop pacing!”
Getting up from his seat, he strides over to his door, swings it open and finds Ten scratching his head and glancing at his phone in repeated action. 
“Ten?”
He’s so in a trance that he hasn’t noticed Doyoung. He is the lovable sort of idiot if he ever chooses to be so. Most of the time though, he’s just a smartass.
“Oh, oh no, I’m a bad friend,” Ten mutters to himself, his pacing growing more restless. He scratches the back of his head, eyebrows furrowed and too inside his head to notice Doyoung. He wants to ask but something tells him he shouldn’t. 
Turns out, his apprehension isn’t strong enough these days. 
“Whose date did you crash?” Doyoung asks, more than annoyed already.
When Ten looks at him, Doyoung feels rather shriveled and freezes on the spot. Call it instinct but Doyoung respects fear and pain. Ten has a mixture of the two, amplified when he looks at Doyoung.
“Doyoung. Hey,” he says, trying to tone down the distress in his voice.
Doyoung still hasn’t recovered from the initial surprise of Ten looking that way.
“Did you fuck up? Did someone fuck up? Why do you look like that?”
Ten sits down on the small couch. “Long story… I guess. Too many details, you- you know? Just—”
“What the fuck happened?”
Ten still can’t look him in the eye. “The group chat’s a little…”
“Ten,” Doyoung snaps. “Cut the crap.”
“No, that’s- that’s what I’m- You’re going to be upset.”
Doyoung straightens, furrowing his brows. “I think I can fucking handle it.”
“You know that date I set up for (name) and Hyungmin?”
“You set that up?”
“(name) slept with Hyungmin.” 
Doyoung quietens. The silence seems to make Ten uncomfortable as he shifts in his seat, getting up when Doyoung speaks.
“So?”
Ten blinks. “You’re not upset?”
“Just what kind of loser do you think I am?” Doyoung mutters.
Glass shatters just that easily. Maybe he wanted you to shatter him. Maybe he was already cracking at the edges.
“Doyoung, you don’t have to—”
“Stop,” he exclaims a little louder than he intended. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m a grown man, I can handle shit like this.”
It still hurts though. You lied to him and he let you in. You lied to him. Doyoung sighs, returning to his room with a realization he should have had long ago. His night ends with more deleted drafts than he’s supposed to have and eventually, with increased discomfort, he delegates the job to Park Hyungmin himself with the excuse of sickness.
Doyoung does feel sick. He felt this way once, in highschool, but it had turned to red, hot anger ready to lash at anyone and everyone, spilling from his lips as easy as it was to breathe. And Doyoung can never feel that way towards you. He was different back then too, of course, but you—you’re unlike anyone he’s ever met. He loves the comfort of you, and something like that is hard to come by. 
He feels like laughing again but instead he finds tears on his cheeks. Silly boy, he can hear his mother tell him. You don’t give your heart to heartbreakers. 
So Doyoung falls asleep to the sound of upbeat music in his earphones, music he hates even just to pass the night. Morning will come and he will have to become stronger. Comfort is fleeting, after all.
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With everything said and done, you know very well that if you were to tell someone you love them—genuinely, truly, from the heart—it would be Doyoung. It’s not a sudden realization, like the sky falling apart or a tidal wave crashing against the shore and sweeping away the city. It is like the gentle lapping of water, though, or the way the clouds change shape—natural and anything but alarming. You want to stare at it forever, and you want to believe that’s how it will be forever. 
“You told everyone we had sex?” Your voice is boiled to a shout. 
Hyungmin looks torn, lips moving but no explanation making its way out. “I- I told my friends, not everyone.”
“And you forgot that your friends talk? Everybody talks, Hyungmin, what were you thinking?”
He sighs before taking a step towards you. “Why are you so angry about it? As far as I remember, you had no trouble talking about whose pants you got into.”
You scoff. “With friends, not the whole campus.”
“That’s exactly what I did!” 
You cross your arms, feeling so upset you might cry and unsure as to why. You’re usually good at dealing with stuff like this, keeping things in the right place.
“It’s because of Doyoung, isn’t it?” 
You snap your head to Hyungmin. There’s a serene sort of look to him despite his unkempt appearance, and a look of understanding.
“I’m sorry. Really. But if you were so into him, you shouldn’t have called me that evening. It might not matter to me but…”
You broke his heart. All that devotion he had towards you led to this. 
“You’re right.” You choke on your words, leaning against the wall. “Fuck… Fucking…”
You turn around, making your way out of the hallway and hope the tears on your cheeks dry faster if you run.
You can’t remember the last time you ran. Your world didn’t need running from, it was right in the palm of your hands. Now that you look back, the world was always on your shoulders and heavy as it can be. Maybe you liked it—the weight. You could’ve shrugged it off any time; you didn’t need all those caging schedules or careful, elegant steps.
No. Atlas couldn’t shrug because his punishment was his existence. To have weight is to have meaning; and that is how you intended to live out your life.
Doyoung makes you see it differently. To love so fully even if it seems cautious—you, who has never loved at all, couldn’t comprehend it. And because he makes you see it differently, the box is now open and all hell is loose. 
For once, you don’t want to live in the world you crafted. You want more love, more hurt and you want to open the doors. You don’t mind hell if it’s for him.
You ring the bell to Doyoung and Ten’s apartment and pray the news hasn’t reached him yet. He said he was busy this weekend; maybe he was detached enough from his phone for once. You just want to be the person to tell him. It’s not a perfect apology otherwise.
Doyoung opens the door with pursed lips and cold eyes. There’s a sense of ease over his shoulders and arms but he won’t look at you and panic rises to your throat.
“We’re not fucking tonight, (name),” he says.
“That’s not- That’s not why I’m here.” Your voice is so meek, you wonder what happened.
Doyoung steps back, crossing his arms. He’s still looking at his feet and you feel the urge to reach for his face.
“I wanted to tell you- I… I just—”
“That you’re fucking other people?”
“God, Doyoung, stop with the fucking. I don’t care about that right now.”
“Really?” His voice is so sharp, it digs into your skin. “You were just in it for that. That’s the fun part in your stupid life, isn’t it?”
You feel a sharp pain in your nose and forehead. “You’re- Now that’s- Doyoung. I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say.”
“After—” His voice chokes up. “After everything is done? Stop with the excuses and face it for fuck’s sake. You aren’t made to fall in love. That’s why you dance around it all the time.”
Although he says that, he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds defeated.
“It’s not like you aren’t cautious,” you retort, throat feeling heavy. “You said it yourself- you don’t want to care too much.”
“I was wrong,” he says, voice hoarse. “I care about everything more than I’d like to admit. I care about you more than I’d like to admit.”
“The Hyungmin thing didn’t mean anything, okay? You were busy and—”
“So why did you lie?” He strains to not raise his voice. “Of course I knew our little thing didn’t mean shit to you. Why did you pretend it did? Last week, you said- you said—”
“Doyoung, last week- last week I- I wasn’t pretending, I swear.”
“You could’ve just saved yourself the trouble and the dignity.” A short, humorless laugh leaves him.
You feel your lips tremble, the explanation not quite made its way out yet. He looks so innocent like this, rabbit-like eyes watery and full of pain, pure the way they have always been. This is your mistake, isn’t it?
“Doyoung, please,” you manage to say. “That was wrong. I couldn’t clear up my head. Please don’t—”
“No. I was an idiot. Or you see me as one.” He frowns deeper, lips trembling. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t have been at the same fucking party and I shouldn’t have drank so much. You’re- I’m not that kind of person.”
You bite down your lip. “What kind?”
Doyoung laughs, the sound raspy and empty. “The kind to not fall in love with you.”
It damn near breaks your heart to look at him. You have to say something, it shouldn’t end like this. You’re desperate and all you think is that you don’t want it to end at all.
“Please, I thought of you as a friend, that’s why—”
“And this is what you call being a friend?” he cuts you off.
You feel the sting in your eyes and nose, making you turn sharply to the side. You wish he’d just make you cry. It makes you feel the rancid guilt all the more.
“Make Hyungmin your friend for all I care. Let’s stop this.”
You stare at your feet, unable to respond. 
“You can have every boy in the world, (name). Don’t come to me.”
“Can you just stop talking about everyone else?” you yell, desperate. “Do I talk about your exes? Seungjae or- or what’s-her-name—” 
“That’s different!” He looks distraught, breathing heavily and with a painful red flush over his nose and cheeks. He runs his hand through his hair, tousling it further. “You lied to me, (name). You lied.”
Your cheeks are wet and the look that flashes over Doyoung makes you think he wants to step right out to you. He stays frozen in place, however, looking away to the side.
“Did you notice?” he asks softly. “Even once? How much I cared?”
You can’t answer, letting the tears drip down your face. It’s getting colder and colder. 
Doyoung bites down his lip before parting them. “All we did was have sex anyway. So please just- just leave.”
You take a long few moments but nod, hugging your coat closer and stepping out of his apartment. You think you hear Ten’s footsteps but it’s followed by the bang of a door—this is how it ends then.
The line between hate and love is thin; and you are deserving of neither.
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You perfect your next semester’s academics, and the next. It still feels empty. You go out to drink with friends and return to a messy bed you sleep in alone. You smile as always and you laugh as always. No one asks you how you are as always. You never needed anyone to ask you how you are.
Ten tries but you push him away. You don’t need to drag in other people into a mess you made. He feels sorry for the whole thing but you tell him it was you that spilled the paint, Ten just handed a dash of it to you.
You were right. You don’t deserve Doyoung. At least, you made it so that you don’t deserve him. 
‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all’—it still hurts.
Every day is part of a list again. You doodled in some of the pages, when you thought you were starting to fall in love. There’s only a skeleton of it left now. Soon, you’ll let it crumble to dust too. 
You tear apart the planner sometime after graduation and cry and curse at yourself for doing that. No one’s good at parting with things they care about. You’re no exception.
It’s December again. 
This place is a little strange to visit right after graduating, especially with the memories flashing you by. Johnny said he booked one of the private booths (“A senior’s treat!”) but you feel your steps growing hesitant when you reach the neon signs by the stairs. It spells ‘The Meeting Place’ and smells of cigarettes just like it did the first time.
You stop midway up the stairs. For a moment, you think of Doyoung sitting there and wonder if you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. If you had the chance now, would you take it?
Of course, you wouldn’t. There’s too much to be set right and you can’t do it.
There’s supposed to be the six of you. Johnny mentioned Ten and you know Eunji’s invited too. You saw Jaehyun on the way here, still a student. You sigh. It must be him, the one they failed to mention to you. Kim Doyoung. There’s no one quite like him.
You spot him first. Looking a little forlorn as he gazes absentmindedly to the side, he faces away from you and you get the inevitable urge to run away. It’s a funny feeling. 
Your stomach is churning. You don’t want him to see you. Ten babbles on about something to Johnny, smiling like he found candy while clearing his drawers. Eunji looks tired, leaning against Johnny’s shoulder and you wonder if she already drank more than enough shots.
“(name).”
You jump at Jaehyun’s voice from behind you. 
“Hey,” you respond, giving him a wide smile.
He hesitates. “Are you okay? Not that you don’t look okay- you look really good actually. I mean, are you and… you know okay?”
“I don’t think so, Jaehyun,” you say and make your way to the booth.
It’s a little cramped for the six of you and Doyoung gets up before you can even greet him. It’s not like you deserve it anyway but it tugs at the wound.
“I’m going to go take a drag,” he mutters.
“You don’t smoke,” you say, looking up.
He stares at you momentarily and you look away. You think Ten and Johnny glance at you with pity but you don’t really care. 
 “Can I come with you?” you ask, barely a whisper.
“Sure,” he says, to your surprise.
The smoking area is so small, you’re surprised it’s even there. A glass structure overlooking the neighbourhood, there’s barely any light within. The only thing nice is how warm it’s in there. 
Doyoung lights his cigarette and then offers to light yours. It’s quiet, the music from inside numbed to the cold doors. You really can’t take it. You stub the barely consumed cigarette and throw it into the bin.
You’d rather just stay quietly in his presence.
“You’re not smoking,” he notes.
“It’s a bad habit.” You look out through the glass.
Doyoung chuckles. “You were a collection of bad habits.”
“And good ones too,” you quip. “I was a perfect student. I was perfect in most everything actually.”
Doyoung’s smile widens. “You were. You certainly were.”
A few more moments pass in silence, your eyes traveling over the outside scenery which seems to be growing duller by the second. City lights have never felt fainter.
“It was an accident, right?” You say suddenly. “The whole thing? Us?”
Doyoung hums. “Yeah. I fell in love by accident.”
You smile weakly. “Right. I never got to apologize.”
“I loved you on purpose.”
You look up at him. There’s not a lot of people who say what they mean. He looks the same as he used to under your grey blankets, with a warm blush over his cheeks and kind, wide eyes. 
“You’re so damn pretty,” he murmurs, “even now.”
You scan his face for signs of lying.
“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” you ask finally. 
Doyoung blinks before easing into laughter. “You- You’re- You’re the same as ever.”
You let yourself crack a smile.
“Doyoung I- I really am sorry,” you say quietly. “And I did- do care for you.”
Doyoung stubs out his cigarette and discards it before looking you in the eye. You notice he’s wearing his favourite black turtleneck in the proximity, the grey plaid coat covering most of it. You really liked that look on him.
“I’m sorry,” you say once again. “I want you to know that. I didn’t want to hurt you and I promise I won’t ever do it again.”
You mean it. You’re never going to hold glass again. He doesn’t deserve it.
“That’s a problem,” he responds, breath mingling with yours. “I want you… I want you to hurt me. If you really do love me, I’ll take it.”
“Doyoung,” you whisper, turning away despite your whole body screaming at you to give in. “I meant it. I can’t hurt you.”
Doyoung cups your cheek with one hand, glancing at your lips for a moment.
“You’re warm,” he says.
He’s warmer.
“I want to kiss you,” he says.
You want to kiss him too.
“We went about this all wrong, didn’t we?” he asks.
“We did,” you answer, voice barely above a whisper. “I did.”
Doyoung pulls back. “Then let’s start again. I’m Kim Doyoung, I majored in linguistics. I was student council president and I made a mistake.”
You smile. “We don’t have to do that.”
Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “After all the trouble I went through to make a good introduction?”
The two of you laugh, and it gets warmer. 
“I’m (name),” you say. “I was a top student and I made a bigger mistake, Kim Doyoung.”
“Oh? I wonder what it was.”
“Kind of a long story.”
“I’ve got all the time for you.”
You smile and start. He responds with gentle kisses. You’re piecing your world back together again; but this time it’s feather-light and fits right in the palm of your hand. 
2K notes · View notes
fwkei · 3 years ago
Text
Time.
Kazutora x fem!reader (angst/fluff)
CW/TW: Mentions of suicide, (slight) mention of starvation.
MAJOR SPOILERS FOR VALHALLA ARC
Note! Explanation of story at end just incase you’re confused also i apologize for mistakes, i did not read this over. 🙆🏻‍♀️
WC: 3.4k
--------------------------------------
You sat at the edge of your seat. Watching the clock above your teacher's head ever so closely. 
“When you want to find the common di-” 
Suddenly the bell rang, interrupting your teacher from his final words. 
“Oh my bad, guess I lost track of time, anyways please remember to study for your quiz on Monday! I know it's a weekend, but save some time for academics!” said your teacher as your classmates packed up their stuff to leave. 
Today was Friday, meaning it was the day you get to visit Kazutora at juvie for the first time after Keisuke's death, and your attempt. It was 3:30, and visiting hours started at 4 to 5 every Friday for inmates. Running to the metro takes about 5-7 minutes, and walking from the station to the actual juvie takes about 20 minutes, while the ride lasts up to 10, meaning you should arrive there at around 4:10. And there's no time to waste. 
You ran out of class, ignoring your fellow classmates goodbyes. You held your book bag tight as you ran fast to the Tokyo station. Seeing you arrived just on time you jumped in just before the 3:30 o'clock train leaves to a different side of the district where Kazutora is being held. You held onto the rail beside you to keep yourself steady as the train started to move . 
You felt scared but happy to see Kazutora. He most probably didn't know you would be coming, he probably thought you would at most write letters to him, like before, but again...Kazutora believes that you hate him now. You didn't know what you were going to say to him. Draken told you that he already visited him while you were in psychiatric hold for a bit, and he told you that Kazutora was planning on killing himself. Draken did not specify if he told Kazutora about your own attempt but you didn't worry too much because you were healing, and you now had hope.  
Your heart was racing, as the train came to a stop. As the doors opened you ran, and fast. Dodging people to not hurt them and almost stepping on things you shouldn’t be stepping on. You checked the time to see it was 4:01, and you still had about 10 minutes worth of walking/running to cover. 
You were breathing heavily when the Juvenile building came into view. You checked the time again to see it was 4:11. You jogged to the doors of the building despite the fact that your thighs were burning from the amount of cardio you had just done. 
It's all worth it. 
You thought to yourself opening the doors. 
Kazutora sat on the bed of his bland and colorless cell. He signed as he looked up at the ceiling light before turning his position to look at the side of the wall. He held his pillow tight. He knew it was visiting day, and his heart was anxious despite the fact that others had already been called to see their visitors, and there was still no call for him. He didn't even expect any visitors.
Kazutora didn't know if he wanted to see you or not. He’s spent so much time alone in his cell thinking. He wondered if you had figured out the other reason for him stabbing his best friend, you could read people, but he knew you had a hard time reading him. He felt his heart ache. He was scared of the karma that would hit him because of it. Maybe not even Karma, but just some sort of punishment, for causing pain to the soul that cared for him so much, and for not being there for that soul when she needed it the most. Which... ultimately lead to your attempt, which Draken told him about during his visit. He shut his eyes as he remembered Draken's words. 
“I don’t wanna hear you say there is no point anymore. Because there is, and it’s kinda frustrating and irritating how you can’t see it even though it’s right there. She’s in psychiatric hold right now because she was close to ending her own life. After Baji died, and you were taken away, Y/n couldn't take it anymore, and no one could see it because she just...she just kept it in, like you do. She was going to die on Baji’s birthday if I wasn’t there to make her throw up the pills she took. Her and I may not be blood related siblings, but I know she’s been through a lot and has always gotten over it just fine, you know that...but this time...I got really fucking scared.”
Kazutora felt his heart drop to fucking hell at Draken’s words. He felt his breathing stop as his mouth parted.
“I know you love her, I'm not sure in what way but I could care less about that. I know, Kazutora. All those times you came crying to the brothel, crying into her arms, begging for some type of help and she helped you, lended you her body for you to cry on, I’d hear all of it. I know you’re hurting, but if you go, I don't think she will be able to live with herself. She’ll blame herself for not being there for you like she’s always been. Do you understand?”
He felt his body throb from literal physical pain. Kazutora was feeling and getting the punishment he deserved right then and there. 
“You owe it to her, whether you like it or not, to stay alive because she's doing the same for you. And once you’re out of here, you should finally grow up. Let her cry into your arms for once. She’s your best friend, right? Because she deserves for those efforts to be reciprocated. And you deserve to see what she’s gone through because of everything that happened. Take care, Kazutora.” 
Kazutora was lost in his own mind, to the point where he couldn't even register that one of the guards was calling his name from the cell door.
“Hm? I’m sorry I wasn't...uh, paying attention. What did you say?” he asked sitting up nervously 
“You got a visitor, kid. C’mon get up.” said the man unlocking his cell 
“A- visitor?” he said quietly getting up from his bed with shocked eyes 
It was already 4:15. Kazutora grew anxious at who his visitor could be. He was sure it wasn't you, your school is too far for you to make it here in time. There would only be a couple minutes to spare if you did try. Could it be Draken wanting to give him a word of advice? Or maybe Chifuyu.. Maybe Mikey? God, who could it be. It made him feel even more congested and trapped than before.  
As Kazutora walked, he looked down at his feet avoiding people's gazes. He saw the backs of his fellow juvenile delinquents from the side of his eye. His heartbeat became stronger, and he felt it thumbing in his ears. God, he didn't know what to expect. He was just so...frustrated. 
“Here, you have until 5.” said the guard, taking off his hand cuffs. His back was facing you. You grew anxious bringing your hands to rest on your things and skirt, waiting for him to turn around and look at you. You watched as he rubbed his wrists and sat down at the stool still not looking at you. You rubbed your hands together under the table separating you both, as the guard walked away to patrol. Your eyes followed the guard, not even noticing that Kazutora had turned to look at your face. 
Kazutora felt his face get hot at the sight of you. You had a school shirt on, with a dark blue tie and a sweater vest, Your hair tied into a low and messy bun with some of you natural and dyed hairs falling out framing your face. He felt his whole body go warm as you turned your head and gave him a nervous smile as a small blush formed. He didn't know why he was scared to see you, because every time Kazutora had the chance to see you, he instantly felt better, no matter what.
You two, and the other inmates and visitors, were all separated by a piece of plastic with a vent to capture sound better. On the side there was a subsection with an opening to the other side where you could pass things through. Such as notes, toys, hygiene stuff, and extra. You brought your hands to the table holding them.
“Hey...sorry I’m late.” you said as you saw Kazutora snap out of his gaze 
“Oh no I-, please don’t be..” he said waving his hands frantically, clearly nervous
“I had to run about 2 miles to get here..” you laughed trying to not tense up
Kazutora felt… stupid, why would you do that? Just to see him? It just made him even more confused...confused about how he felt towards you. 
“Just to see me? But..why?” he asked without thinking and just speaking, giving a regretful and embarrassed face after asking his question.
“Hm? Oh well it's simple really…” you said bringing your hands to rest in between your thighs on your seat 
“I know that I've told you that I don't like saying these words to people because it sounds like some sort of goodbye but it’s time I grow up from my past, and stop keeping things in..so…it’s because I love you... I thought that was fairly obvious but I don't wanna mess up like I did last time. I want you to know that I do love you and care for you.” you said giving him a closed eyed smile, this made Kazutora realize that you deeply regretted not telling Keisuke that you loved him more often when you two still had time. He felt his heart ache. He felt so guilty and gross.
“So, I’m gonna try and start saying that more often..” you said laughing to break the silence 
Kazutora was still speechless at what you had just said. He couldn’t seem to process it, and he wanted to say it back but for some reason he just couldn’t. He was afraid that something else might slip out. He truly didn't think he was worthy of your love and care. It became quiet. Again.
“I made you a bento box with your favorite things, I made sure to put some extra meat. Cause you always used to ask for that when I would make bentos for study days with you and Keisuke. And don’t worry! It’s allowed and you can have the kitchen hold it for you till you’re ready to eat it for today's dinner, the guards said so. And the container is microwave safe! So you can warm up the entree section. There’s rice and BBQ meat, little octopus shaped sausages and sauce with it! Oh and a salad with sesame dressing on the side, and desert which is just mochi. Every Friday I'll come by, and give you the new bento and you'll just give me back the old one, so that I can wash it and so we don't have to waste stuff.” you said smiling 
Your hand dung into your bag, and you pulled out a wooden bento box sliding it halfway through the subsection, but Kazutora hung his head low. You smiled, trying your best to make things right, as silence grew loud again. 
“I can also bring some mangas for you, I know you like shounen and also horror.. So I can buy some and give them to you so that you aren't bored! This week's shonen jump is good… It’s about a boy who is trying to save his mom, and ends up traveling across lands, with close friends, to get this special potion that will heal her, but I’ll make sure to look for some good horror manga too...I know you like stuff about folk tales, that sound okay?”  
Silence.
After a few minutes you spoke again.
“I decided to let my hair grow out cause I kinda miss having longer hair…There's this really pretty girl in my class who has long blonde hair.. Like Emma’s but longer and more wavy.. What about you? Anything you wanna do to your hair when you get out? I’ll take you to get it done-” 
Silence. 
The time now at 4:40. Kazutora bit his lip out of frustration, refusing to look up at you. 
“Oh! What about I bring over a sudoku book, so you can work on your academics as well! I can teach you how to play, it’s fun once you get the hang of it. Or I can bring just a simple literature book, it’s really up to you, I think both are great.” 
Silence. 
“Maybe markers so you can draw on yourself when you’re bored? I remember you doing that while I would tutor you and Keisuke. I can get big and small ones, and ones with different colors too. Also a sketch book, since you’re really good at drawing.” 
You were met with silence again. You felt your heart ache. Your eyes looked up at the clock and saw it was 4:47. You both were running out of time. About half an hour went by of your speaking, you giving a couple minutes in between waiting for him to speak back, but nothing. You clenched your hands into fists, biting your bottom lip as you looked down at your hands, resting on your thighs. 
You felt a strong feeling in your throat, the feeling you get when you’re about to sob. You were so frustrated, and you were trying to keep a level head. It was hard and you just wanted to fucking cry. 
“I- '' you said before closing your mouth realizing you were about to let out a whine. You didn't wanna cry, you wanted to say something but you were afraid that if you did, it would just come out as a sob.  
“I know it’s hard on you-” you said holding back your sobs while still looking down at your hands, letting your hairs cover your face 
“If you don’t want me here, I promise- that I’m fine with that...but~” you said in between pauses keeping your sobs in, but your last word came out shaky making Kazutora shoot his head to see you about to cry. 
He felt his heart ache once again. 
 “But please….jus-just say something. Anything. At least acknowledge that I'm here.” you cried quietly while tensing up your shoulders 
Kazutora frowned. This was his punishment. Seeing you cry, and not being able to hold and comfort you like he desperately wanted to. He opened his mouth, but closed it soon after when nothing came out. Not even a squeak, or whine, or breath. 
“I-”
You heard him say. You looked up with tears in your eyes seeing his face of desperation. 
Kazutora wanted to speak so badly, there were so many thoughts in his head he just could not push one out of his mouth, and he was afraid he might say something he would regret. He wanted to respond to everything you asked him, add commentary, tell you that you looked pretty today, say thank you for the food you made him. Tell you to not waste your tears on someone like him. Say sorry for making you feel uncomfortable because of his silence. God he just- 
“I love you-” he choked up and said in a louder tone causing your eyes to widen and mouth to part from shock at his sudden outburst.
He was avoiding your eyes as he spoke. 
“I- thank you, thank you so much for the food! Really! And I would really love whatever and everything you bring me.” he said, quieting down towards the end.  
“I...can’t put my thoughts into words… and I don’t wanna say something I’d regret. All this time I’ve just been lost in my own mind. I just want you to know that..that I really am in- that I really appreciate you. I want you..to be here, and I’m so...sorry for making you cry.” he said in between pauses of frustration and embarrassment 
You felt your body get warm, your heart beat was strong and you could feel it in your finger tips and temples. You opened your mouth to say something before Kazutora spoke again. 
“I..wanted to.. Wanted to help you...in just some way...after seeing you cry for the first time...with Baji in your arms….I shouldn't have stabbed Baji...I took the person you loved more than anything...away from you.. Because I was j- because I was so stupid, and still am. Even when you’ve done...so fucking much for me...I- and I took him from you...I just don’t get it… how can you have any empathy towards me anymore.. It doesn't make sense. I took so much from you… I killed Shinchiro, and I killed Baji. You loved them both...Mikey loved them both, why do..why do you even have any feeling towards me?” he said looking into your eyes with tears   
Your eyes softened at him. You took a small breath before saying-
“I thought I already told you why, Kazutora. I love you.” 
Kazutora felt a tear run down his cheek. He knew how much thought came behind those simple words. 
“I don’t need a reason to love you. Just like I don't need a reason to be hungry. It’s just there, and will continue to be there, you know what I mean? Same thing with everyone I love.” you said 
His breath hitched. The time now at 4:52.
“The only difference is I was in love with Keisuke. I still am in love with him. Even though he’s not here anymore. I know you might think I love him and Shinchiro and Mikey because they saved my life and helped me. But I was only so little. I had no concept of it. So was Keisuke. So was Mikey. Keisuke had no reason to come up to little me while I was starving on the ground practically dying. He just did it. He was too young to understand love. You think he understood his feelings for me the second he saw me? Or even with Mikey or Shinchiro. Of course not. They were just focussed on saving my life at the time. We discovered the love that was involved later. Even if it was too late to say anything about it. It took Kei and I about...hmmm..5-7 years maybe...to understand what we felt toward each other specifically. It is different with everyone. The love is just there, it’ll just be understood when the time is right. Like when your hunger just hits you. So when you ask me why I love you, or care for you, or forgive you. I just can’t give you a simple answer, even if I wanted to….because there's so much. Too much.” 
Kazutora understood your words. He really did. It made so much sense to him and he just wanted to scream.
Why? Well.. 
“The time will come where you believe that you're worthy of someone else's love and even your own, and even worth loving someone else yourself. So don’t worry. I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes. Even if it takes all the time in the world, okay?” you said smiling at him leaving him with shocked eyes
“Alright times up! 5 o'clock!” yelled a guard 
“Well, I'll see you next Friday, okay? I’ll bring over some manga, oh! And don't forget the bento!” you said getting up from your seat as Kazutora did the same keeping his hands on the table as the guard came to cuff them 
“Y/n I-I’m…”
No. He can’t say it. He can never ever say it. Why? And say what? 
Because he will never be him. He can never be like him for you, and he was perfect for you. He was the one there for you. He had the time to love you. He was the one. He could never even compete. Not after what he did. Not after the jealousy and envy grew and brewed inside him towards him. He is filthy. Not worthy of your love. Right? 
But someday, he desperately and genuinely wants to allow himself to be loved, and to love. Kazutora will forever be longing for that moment. And when he can love, and allow himself to be loved, he wants it to be with you. 
But till that time comes..
“I’ll...really be looking forward to it.” he said biting back his words and smiling softly 
“Likewise.” you said smiling as you both parted your ways, at least for the time being. 
------------------------------------------
Explanation/note: when i wrote this, i made y/n be a ‘foster’ siblings with Draken and childhood friends with Mikey and Keisuke. << Reason being is because i gave her a backstory where she was neglected and ran away, hence her having a more naturing personality. Y/n and Keisuke were a couple till he died but Kazutora always loved Y/n so it’s a love triangle in a way? I don’t know, but Kazutora grew envious of Keisuke in this ff which ended up being a motive to stabbing him during the fight, to which he later regrets and gets punishment for. Y/n in the story doesn’t know that so that’s why Kazutora can’t accept her love for real because he doesn't know if Y/n will really forgive him after that, and Kazutora won’t be able to learn/accept love till he admits what he did. Holding in that secret, and being in love with Y/n makes him feel frustrated and act out. And obviously time is the theme of this whole story. Kazutora at the end decided to avoid his feelings because the way things are going right now fro the time being for him are fine because he doesn't believe he deserves anything more.  But that can only last for so long, so he’s gambling with his relationship with you. He thinks of it as his punishment for now, not being able to tell you how he really feels, and not being able to comfort you.
ANYWAYS hope you liked it, sorry if it’s confusing. 
183 notes · View notes
tenthgrove · 4 years ago
Note
Can I request the one where La Squadra thought the reader was pregnant (when she just actually visited her kid) situation for Bruno's gang?
Mother Mother- Bucci Edition
Team Buccerati x Reader (Fem), Platonic, SFW
Bruno Buccerati is feeling restless. He's not one to pry, but your behaviour lately is starting to concern him. Leaving the base for hours without explanation is no cause for worry in itself, after all, you're not obliged to inform him of your whereabouts 24/7 and you're hardly the only one on the team who does this, but together with the ceaseless obsession with cutting your finances, the uncharacteristic melancholy and the jolt of panic whenever your personal circumstances become the topic of conversation all add up to a bad picture.
The final straw for Buccerati came today, in which while passing you idly on the sofa he caught sight of the word 'parenthood' printed on the title of the leaflet you were reading. He didn't see the rest of what it said, but your guilty smile at being caught spoke well enough for itself.
Buccerati truly does feel bad about this, but with how defensive you become at even the smallest sign of confrontation, he sees no other choice. As he watches you depart your bedroom and head into the bathroom, he waits quietly for the rush of water from the shower, before sneaking into your unlocked bedroom unnoticed.
He will make clear, he thinks to himself as he pilfers through the loose paper on your desk for that leaflet, that he is not angry. If it's what your heart is set on, he isn't even that opposed to the idea of you raising the baby yourself. The squad is decently paid and their work isn't as dangerous or all-consuming as some, so they can manage. He even feels a little bit of excitement at the thought of helping you with your offspring. He's only doing this because it can't be healthy for you to conceal your pregnancy like this. Children have always been such precious things to him.
A pink leaflet flits off of the desk and Buccerati picks up his prize. He reads the title in full.
"Parenthood for the Parents of Hospitalised Children: What Doctors Advise"
Ahh. Now that changes things. Buccerati feels his heart sink at the sight of the stock image of a mother and father standing over the bedside of a sickly-looking girl. He guiltily returns the leaflet to its former place and tries to reorganise the paper as he found it, before exiting quickly.
Having learned his lesson well about making assumptions on too little evidence, Buccerati sits down with his phone book. There's a fellow on one of the intel teams who owes him a small favour, and it's time he called on it.
“Hello, it’s Buccerati, could you do something for me quickly? I need you to check the records of all the hospitals in Naples that hospitalise chronically ill children, and take a look through the names of the patients in the children's ward," he requests. "There's a specific surname I'm after, hang on, I'll find it for you." Buccerati racks his brains. If there's one thing he's certain your being honest about it's your real name. He pulls it from his memories and relays it to his friend. "No, no need to take any action once you find them. Just let me know the details, particularly of the illness. Very well, thank you," he concludes the phone call and hangs up. He leans back in the seat and sighs.
He barely gets half an hour to rest before the phone rings.
"Oh hello, that was quick. Did you find them? That's excellent. What did the records say?"
The agent relays his findings. Matching the surname he gave him is a little girl about 5 years old, currently residing in the hospital closest to Buccerati's base. The child is suffering from a frightful condition that, although rarely fatal with treatment, can leave sufferers in need of constant medical care for months on end, along with more minor support for years after.
The most concerning thing about the records is that the agent was able to find visitation logs attached to the data, and they all speak of a single, anonymous visitor with recorded visits matching perfectly with the dates and times of your disappearances.
Buccerati thanks the agent and promises to wire him a little money for his quick and extensive help. Hanging up, he broods deeply. He cannot simply allow your suffering to continue if there's anything, anything at all he can do to help.
He is broken from his trance by the sounds of panicked footsteps running in from the hall. He catches sight of Mista and Narancia sneaking in from the hallway, and is struck by the immediate impression that they are by all definitions, up to no good.
"What's the matter you two? You seem startled," he presses them patiently. He is met with two loud sounds of 'uhhhh'.
"Nothing Buccerati, we swear it!" Narancia promises.
"Yeah! In fact, we were just going to the shops and were arguing over what to get!" Mista backs him up. Buccerati rolls his eyes and smiles.
"Alright. Not too much sugar, Narancia? We don't want to find you being sick in the bathroom at two in the morning again, do we?"
"It's not me you have to worry about doing that now," Narancia mutters under his breath.
"Pardon?" Buccerati asks, confused.
"Nothing! We should go now!"
The boys immediately make their exit out the front and disappear down the street. Bruno tuts. Sometimes he thinks he'll never understand that lot. He smiles.
As he replays the encounter in his head, it occurs to him what that strange item poking out of Mista's pocket was. The leaflet from (y/n)'s room. Shit.
"Mista? Narancia? I think we should have a word please!" Buccerati shouts down the entry street. But it's two late, they've both disappeared out of earshot. Buccerati throws his hands up in despair, and returns to his room.
::::::::::::
Abbacchio knows what he sees. Mista and Narancia go running down the street and about 20 second later, Buccerati goes out shouting. As Abbacchio watches Buccerati return to the house in defeat, he makes a decision. He's had enough of those kids and their petty little antics. If Buccerati doesn't have it in him to set them straight, he will.
"You look pressed," Fugo remarks as Abbacchio pushes past him in the corridor.
"None of your business. Mista and Narancia are up to no good and now I've got to go and find them," Abbacchio grunts.
"Narancia?! But he promised me he'd work on his assignments tonight! Little bastard, I'll kill him!" Fugo fumes.
"Will you now? Better keep up then," Abbacchio says, throwing on his coat.
It doesn't take them long at all to find Mista and Narancia. Indeed, they're cowering in the very first alleyway left of the house.
"We can explain," Narancia promises.
"I bet you can," Abbacchio mutters half-heartedly.
"Take a look at this!" Narancia urges them. He pulls a pink leaflet from Mista's pocket and rereads it himself. "It says 'parenthood'. We found it in (y/n)'s room. Does that mean she's pregnant?"
"Why in god's name were you snooping around in (y/n)'s room?" Abbacchio interrogates them.
"Furthermore Narancia, you can't read," Fugo adds.
"Well, for a start, Buccerati did it first. We just went in after him to see what it was he was looking for. Second, Mista read it for me, and he swears it says 'parenthood'. Isn't that right Mista?"
"Sure is," Mista affirms. "Look."
He flicks the leaflet in front of them and, sure enough, they all read the same word. Abbacchio and Fugo curse simultaneously.
"What the hell is their game, thinking they can hide something like this from us?" Abbacchio fumes. "Does Bruno think he's protecting her or something? He's a fool."
"If I may, Abbacchio, it is most uncharacteristic of you to speak ill of Signor Buccerati," a voice from behind protests. Abbacchio turns with a jolt to see Giorno standing at the entrance of the alleyway along with a very bewildered looking Trish. They each have a couple of shopping bags in their hands.
"Are you spying on me?!" Abbacchio shrieks.
"Not at all. I simply thought that going after dark would be a much safer time for Trish to do her shopping, so I was taking her out," Giorno explains. "I overheard your voices and came to investigate, but I really haven't heard much."
"(Y/n)'s pregnant and Buccerati's hiding it from us," Mista fills him in.
"Wait, I'm lost. Did Buccerati get her pregnant? Because if so, what in the actual hell?" Trish comments.
"Fucking christ. Could you imagine?" Narancia remarks. The group soon devolves into a mess of interrupted shouting.
"All of you quiet!" Abbacchio yells. He holds up his hands in desperation. "We are going to get to the bottom of this and we're going to do it now! We are going right home, and we are getting (y/n) to explain herself, whether she likes it or not. Agreed?"
::::::::::::
You had an awful eery feeling getting out that shower would be a mistake. The last thing you expected tonight was being hounded by your dear teammates while you're half dressed and wet haired, particularly on such an outlandish concept as pregnancy.
"Slow down! What the hell are you accusing me of again?"
"You're having a baby and you aren't even telling us! Do you have any idea how much those cost?" Trish accuses. You don't even have an answer for that one, it's just so completely wrong there's no way to refute it.
"We aren't looking to judge, we just want to help," Giorno assures you, though his voice is drowned out by the rest of the rabble.
"I don't need help, I'm not having a baby!" you protest. Narancia opens his mouth.
"But the leaflet says-"
"What on god's earth are the lot of you doing?" Bruno calls from the hallway. "Why are you all hounding (y/n) all of a sudden."
"You think we don't know what you know, Buccerati?" Abbacchio confronts him. "You're complicit in this. You're helping to hide this- baby!"
Buccerati breathes deeply.
"Ah. I believe I know what this is about. Mista, I want you to take that leaflet you found and read the front page out to me. In full."
Mista complies.
"Parenthood... for the Parents of Hospitalised Children. Oh."
"You made the same mistake I did," Buccerati explains. "You saw the first word and immediately jumped to your own conclusions. But in regards to the full title I have carried out some follow up and have confirmed it is exactly what it sounds like. (Y/n) has a young daughter who is unfortunately quite sick at present, and she has understandably been taking time off to be with her."
"You know about her?" you exclaim in panic.
"Apologies (y/n), I was acting only in concern for your health. It was admittedly due to my poor caution that the others found out and, well, it went from there."
"Look," you protest, thoughts spiralling into panic. "I didn't mean for you to know. You said I could do what I wanted with my money so I did. There- there was no other way I could afford to treat her," you justify, tears starting to leak from your eyes. "Please don't kick me out. I swear this doesn't affect my work, all I need is a few hours a week to check on her!"
You collapse against the door in tears. The crowd goes into a shocked silence. Buccerati pushes to the front.
"Hey, hey, I'm not going to kick you out so don't worry," he promises. "I would never cut off a member of my squad like that, especially not when they have such a vulnerable dependent. We can talk about helping you with the money tomorrow, but now, let's get you calmed down okay?"
You nod through your tears. Buccerati guides you to your feet and leads you gently into the kitchen. The remaining group in the hall look at each other with pressed lips. Fugo takes the leaflet from Mista and reads through the front cover once more. He hits him.
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sinfulwrites · 3 years ago
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Slashers reacting to their s/o coming out as nb
Including Bubba Sawyer, Bo Sinclair, Michael Myers (peepaw, RZ) and Jason Voohees
(Forgive me if its OOC)
Bubba Sawyer
I believe it's his first time hearing about non binary people, and he would find himself intrigued by your explanation. He doesn't know how to explain it, but he understands in a deep way.
He would 100% support you and correct others that missgenser you, even if he cannot use words, he would make sure that they get the message
Bubba loves you by you, he just cares for you happiness and nothing can change that.
I'm sorry but Bubba goes by he/they/she and none can change my mind.
Bo Sinclair
He's kinda lost, but wouldn't stop you while explaining, he would pay genuine attention (even if he tried later to deny it)
Living in a forgotten ghost town means that a lot of information and gets lost in their way there, istg this man still believes that pluto is a planet, but that doesn't stop him from trying
After that day you would find him practicing your preferred name till he gets it right, he doesn't want to make you feel bad or getting missgendered, even if its all new to him
Believe me when I say that this man would do wrong any visitor that tried to mock you in any way.
He would also try new things with you if you wanted to, painted nails, cutting your hair or letting it long, trying new clothes? You name it.
Michael Myers 2018
It didn't surprised him, he pays really good attention to you, and your comments about yourself. If he hear you using they/them pronouns on yourself too much, that's the way he would refer to you in his head.
He would only get annoyed if you thought he would be mad at you by this. He feels that he's lucky he even got you in a first play, wdym he would he pissed by this?
If someone hurt you, made you feel dysphoric or missgendered you on purpose, they're dead. 100% under ground.
He may be old, but you cannot tell me that he's that old.
Michael Myers RZ
Wouldn't see a problem with it, he would just till his head trying to understand a reason why you felt like this was change anything
Seen you this vulnerable, opening up about something this important is what reminds him why he loves you, because he knows that he can be as vulnerable with you.
Would just get near and rest his forehead against yours, in his little own way to tell you that it is all fine
You identifying as nb won't change his feelings for you
If he sees something with nb flag colors in it, he's taking it, it's your now, nono, it's yours. Don't ask where it came from, take it.
Jason Voorhees
Expect this man to steel books about gender expression and read them just for you
Would 100% be by your side from day one. And even write you down little nb jokes in your lunch or notebooks to cheer you up
"What do you say when your nb friend is feeling down? Their their"
He's trying his best, please remind him that he's doing it great
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OMG, SEAL!!! (Can I call you Seal?)
Never apologize for being OOC, we embrace OOC on this blog. I'll absolutely admit right now my Michael's are probably very OOC, but I have fun writing them, and that's what's important at the end of the day. You should start writing, Seal 🥺❤
I GOTTA DISSECT THIS AND APPRECIATE IT ALL!
Bubba might not understand 100% right away, but he's supporting you regardless! And as you said, he definitely feels a connection with you on this topic. Bubba isn't a very confrontational guy, but if anyone misgendered you or tried to make fun of you, he's right there next to you to defend you. 😤 Bubba absolutely goes by he/she/they! 🥺❤ And if any if his family say a word about it I'm gonna throw hands 😤 I think we can all agree Bubba absolutely gets himself dolled up and beautiful some days 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 I wonder if he'd let me help with his makeup 😍
Bo is definitely behind on the times, but his heart is in the right place. He might not fully get it yet, but he's gonna support you all the way. He's always so mad at himself if the old name slips off the tongue, but it's definitely not intentional. His apology smooch earns him forgiveness 😌 He'd absolutely make sure his brothers are calling you your preferred name too, and if anyone who wanders into this town disrespect you? The smooth act drops, he gets you out of there first before killing them right in the middle of the road. Vincent won't be able to make a sculpture, but he didn't want to look at them anymore anyways. Omg, imagine Bo letting you paint his nails too? 🥺❤ Maybe only black, but I think he'd let you once, and then he'd realize how much he likes his nails painted. He won't admit that to anyone but you though.
You're right, Peepaw isn't that type of old. If anything, I think he'd also have a connection deep down. Gender was never really something Michael thought about. He knew he was a man, but did he feel like one? Truth be told, he doesn't know what being a man is supposed to be. All Michael knows is that he likes to be un-percived by the public, simply referred to as a Shape. While it is not the same, he would understand not wanting to be referred to by a gender. That's why he's upset when you tell him you were worried he would be mad. He could never be mad about something like that, and like you said, he's so lucky to have you in the first place. What you identify as is never going to change that! Whether you change your name, change your look, Michael is still going to love you. If you want new clothes or jewelry, he's on the hunt for it. If anyone dares even give you a nasty look? They'll never find their bodies. He doesn't know how to tell you properly through words, so he hopes you know from all the things he can do for you.
When RZ Michael sees how vulnerable you are when you come out to him, he immediately knows he can trust you with his own inner demons. If your confession pushes you to tears simply from relief after he didn't reject you like you feared he would, he will hold you close and let you cry it out on his chest. He'll even shed a tear of his own, but you won't see it. Not yet. After your body stops shaking he will lift your chin so he can press his forehead against you, and give you a small kiss on your nose. It's the first time he's ever been so intimate, and it's because he wants you to know he still loves you and supports you, he just lacks the words to say it. Nothing changes for him. You're still you. One day he found a nb flag and stuck it right on the house. Just so the neighbors know. And he'll make sure to do plenty of threatening with his knife if anyone has anything to say about it to you. Also, he's another one who'd let you paint his nails if you wanted to...
Oh Jason, my beloved 🥺❤ He is not afraid to admit he doesn't understand, but he is going to learn. If you're willing to explain it over and over, he is going to pull over a chair and listen. If you're busy, he will find another source to learn from. Leave the forest if he must to find another source. He is your number one supporter, through and through. He's right there on the bed as you show him your new looks, always giving you his support through eager head nods and thumbs ups, but don't forget the kisses and twirly hugs 🥰 Oh my god yes, he would make little jokes like that to cheer you up! 😭 He knows he's helpless to protect you from any assholes you encounter at work or school, but he hopes his little notes reminds you he's still there for you, even if everyone else turns away from you 🥺 He loves and cares for you so much because you do the same in return, you accept him for all of him, even what's under the mask. Your gender identity is never going to make him feel differently about you. He never does these things for you to get a thank you, he might even try to discourage you from trying to thank him for being such a good lover, but he melts very quickly under your kisses and a nice firm hug 🥺❤
I loved this entire post, thank you so much! 😭 I can't get enough of these soft slasher headcanons. These made me smile so wide. And no worries, I know who dropped this lovely thing in my box, even with the missing emoji 😉
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starshipsofstarlord · 4 years ago
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Smooth as the nine realms
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loki laufeyson x reader / masterlist
summary; the midguardian lifestyle is strange, but there is an aspect of it that loki is definitely not accustomed to, and he’s conflicted about whether he likes it or not / warnings; smut, talk about pubic hair, or lack of, oral sex (female receiving)
kicking off your leggings, you abolished them to the other side of the room, straddling loki as he abandoned his book, caring not that the pair of you were in the middle of the common room, nor the fact that he had lost his page. it had been a few months since loki had been forced to join the avengers on their next quest, thor had practically dragged him towards the bifrost.
but now, he didn’t mind earth so much. sometimes it could be quiet, that was when all members of the team were away on missions, and thor allowed him to be by himself. this though, the way you, an average, world protecting midguardian straddled him, after stripping out of your top and bra, in the middle of a public sector of the domain, was something that he sure as valhalla had no mind about.
in fact, he rather enjoyed the way that your hands roughed down the points of his shoulders, and trailed down his biceps, that were underrated, especially in comparison to his brother’s. the two of you had been playing a game since he attacked the planet, it was a chase of cat and mouse.
at first, he had envisioned you to be the mouse, but you no longer seemed meek and small any longer. instead, you were the feline that was cosying herself upon the perch of his royal lap, descending her grounding hips over the throne of his pelvis.
“what is it trickster, cat got your tongue?” you seemed rather confident with the way that his eyes remained glue to your mound, he realised that must have been quite a complimentary action for a mortal man to show to his partner.
to be truthful, it felt as though all speech was parched from his mouth, he had knowingly waited for this instance where you would deliberately rut yourself against him; like heimdall, he had a vision of the future delved in the reverse side of his eyes, though, his reaction was the most unexpected thing that he could had intended to paraphrase.
he trailed his hand over your mound, through the fabric of underwear, watching mercilessly as you bucked into his hand. midguardians were something else, they weren’t as sensual as others he had been with concerning their sexuality, in fact, as it appeared, some were desperate.
you were rutting in his grip, though he applied a stern hold unto them, forcing you to stop your ravenous movements, and pose stilly for the god beneath you. he gently, which was a surprise to you with how tender and kind his eyes had become, laid you down on the couch that stark has paid a pretty penny for, exchanging your positions so that you were the one under his demeanour.
“do something.” you eagerly insisted, lacing your mortal fingers through his midnight locks, tugging gently at his dark roots. a glassy encasement covered his eyes as he stared up at you, it was a mess to place the expression that was carried within them, gods were difficult, that much was clear. though, you weren’t seeking anything particularly intimate with the company of one, this had been inevitable though.
it had been like a kettle brewing, screeching like an applause when the pair of you had finally gotten to the point of no return. this was it, there were no divine interventions or avenging interruptions to discard this moment, instead you and loki were thrown this coin toss, given your desires in the aura of a wish fountain.
“humans.” his voice prowled, making bumps appear on your skin, as he blew a swift succession of cold air across your stomach, it sending a blizzard of coolness up the paving of your chest, making your nipples undeniably hard, their stiff peaks that beaded under his breath were almost painful as they stood obediently to attention. “always so demanding, why can’t your kind beg for a change, i know that would appease my hunger?”
“oh loki, please.” your tone was severely monotone, and caused the mischievous lord to roll his gemstone eyes, rendering their spheric pupils to glare in amusedly at you, though, he tugged your panties down, the sight leaving him breathless. he was enraptured with the sight, perplexed by it as his emerald eyes stared up at you for an explanation. though, you were not sure what he was expecting from you.
his throat dry, as for once, he was not able to comprehend the situation. his silver tongue had gotten lost, obstructed as he grew distracted by the visual that he was receiving. it was a cunt, he knew that much, but there was someone uniquely different about it, he’d assume it was scalped if her were to make verbal predictions. “what is this?”
“my attempts at deflating your ego. i am not going to beg for you to do something to me, i can easily find someone else.” you rested your head back, digging the crown of it further into the end of the couch, as you parted your legs a little further to resend an invitation for him to proceed.
“not that...” loki revealed, paving his icy hands up the roads of your thighs, letting his forefinger brush over your pubic mound, it was like the bifrost, a smooth pathing to a transportation of depth, one that he wished to investigate, though he was still stricken by the eventing shock that pulsed within his golden veins. he had always been a curious child, and he remained to be as keen to know all now, at centuries upon centuries old.
“have you never seen a vagina before?” you huffed, wanting him to do nothing more than devour your cunt, stabbing you with his vigilant tongue so that he could curl crude and priceless sounds out of your mouth. if anyone knew that you were about to participate in intercourse with the destructive, slippery handed body, they would surely judge you.
but they didn’t, and even if that were not the case, you wouldn’t care. your mind was far too preoccupied with the growing inclination to jump the god’s elegantly crafted bones, bury for now you, remained still, allowing him to assert his comfort within the situation. “what’s wrong?” this time, he answered you, looking almost like a dear kitten that was plodding through the bustling streets, seeking out attention from a kind citizen, having hopes to be taken to a home, and fed well.
“why-,” he cleared his throat, he never came across as this nervous to anyone, it was as though he feared what you may think of him if he were to speak his mind. “why don’t you have hair- here?” he stroked the pad of his thumb over the flat and bare crest, finding it to be one of the most peculiar things regarding humans that he had ever witnessed.
“because i shave.” it was a simple answer, whilst all while being not as direct as the god was hoping for. “it’s kinda a thing down here, some people let it grow out, others don’t. it’s whatever picks their fancy, and a lot of people, like me, shave so intimate partners don’t get grossed out. some guys are dicks and hate everything that is natural.”
“well i’d still be reaped with great, reprised regret, if i were to reform the idea of giving you satisfaction if you were to have a natural slate sheathing around your sweet cunt.” he inhaled, making your muscles wither with succumbed arousal. the god could smell your distinct scent of attraction towards him, and he was visually compelled by the aroma that invaded his senses.
loki, without warning, placed his palm over your clean shaven mound, holding you down as his tongue worked against your tender flesh, stroking it as though he bore a hand of intricacy, sketching out every detail of your skin, plucking the outer labia into the hatch of his often deceiving mouth. he had to admit, in his mind of course, he liked the access that he was granted by this strange human lifestyle.
the idea of pubic hair was one of parts of a woman’s body that usually fuelled the immortal man, however if you didn’t want to bear its follicles on your skin, then that was to it choice. he wouldn’t judge you for it, although he happened to judge midguardians on everything. you were different from the others though, despite sometimes bickering, and making stabbing jokes towards one another, he rather enjoyed your presence.
with you nearby, he finally felt seen. he was not only the immortal that had prided himself with almost crushing an entire mortal city, no. you saw through that, understanding that he was definitely not in his own mindset, he had been controlled. it was never in his plans to venture to midguard, even if it was to cause a ruckus. but now with you, he never wanted to leave.
despite your optimal obligations regarding the team, and villains much like himself, he felt accepted. thor too appreciated him, but that was far different, there had always been a means of competition between the brother, with you, that regard was not present. he could be himself, and appreciate your side silhouette, and demand the agents that passed by with wandering eyes with threats if they did not continue walking.
now that he thought about that, as he engorged on the taste of your cunt, sliding a prying finger through the door of your entrance, fumbling your clit with his bewitched thumb, he realised something. a great surprise to himself. he indeed cared about you, but far more than he had ever anticipated to. his fingers slowed as he became mesmerised with every small noise that projected from your mouth, wanting to drag this instance out for as long as possible.
not only did his self realisation show him that he found some calm in your lasting presence, but he had feelings. usually he blocked off such things, but the heavenly expression that illustrated itself upon your face had him inwardly swooning. he felt you comb your fingers through his locks, and he hummed. he wanted this moment to last forever, in it, he was not a god, nor an infamous trickster.
he was just a man swarming with irregular emotions towards a woman, a being of optimistic resort; if things were as simple, or if he understood as well, he’d ask to take you for dinner. but he didn’t know where to start with that, not only did he have a lack of wisdom when it came to human restaurants, but he had no clue as to how you would respond. he didn’t even think that you saw him as a suitor, he was simply a deliverer of teasing and now pleasure.
“fuck loki.” the mortal swear sounded like a spell, making his body overbear itself with a proud sensation as he pushed you over the edge, removing his fingers only for you to bring them to your own mouth and clean them off. “holy shit, that was so good. maybe i should have started with gods years ago.”
inherently the mischief source growled, his mind instantly going over to the idea of you choosing his brother; everyone did, they had a strong preference. from his family to his old friends, they all liked thor more, and that was how his resentment towards his brother had originally stemmed. he felt like an outcast, and from that reminded alone, conjoined with your interest towards his brother, he felt his eyes grow glassy.
“go to him. i’m sure thor would appreciate your partnership.” yes, he was acting like a sulking toddler, and it had your brow bone raising as you took in his words. it was his clap back response, and you grasped him, stopping him from leaning the room. you felt slightly vulnerable, being in the nude after such a small lash, but you knew something was bothering loki, and it was clear to what that was.
“i do not want your brother loki, nor any other god.” your voice bit back a strain to its tone, as you stared at the man, standing in your birthday suit before him. your hands splayed on his chest, feeling his heart through his attire viscosity beating. “there is no need to be jealous, it feels like we’ve playing this game for so long, and i intend for it to be over. i will be the first to admit it, i want you, all of you. from the dark corners to the hopeful light in your eyes.”
loki was astounded, nobody had ever been so straight forward with him. despite being the god of mischief, the half of the time it was him whom was the victim of lies. “you don’t mean that.” his hands lightly traced every dip in your hips as he searched your expression for certainty. “nobody wants me, i am the monster that had tales spread to fear the children of my people of a night. there is nowhere i belong, nor anybody whom i belong with.”
“that may be your mindset, or the one that you are speaking, but you are lying to yourself. i do want you loki odinson, please accept that.” he gulped, nobody had ever had he guts to tell him how it was, and here you were, simply speaking your mind before him. it was an admirable feature, something that he deemed to be a favourable quality. “now i think i’m gonna get dressed and head to my room, i am feeling a bit cold. come find me when you feel like admitting the truth to yourself, i’ll be waiting.”
as you went to turn, loki grasped your elbow, hushing your questions with his mouth, as he clutched your cheeks, passionately endorsing you in a meaningful kiss. he walked you backwards, until the pair of you once again fell onto the furniture. “you don’t have to wait y/n, because i do not want to.” he ushered pecks down your neck, as you grew warm from the disappearance of his usual cockiness, it being replaced with true confidence, that served as a show for no one, and instead was his own admittance to all.
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knockknockchicagopd · 4 years ago
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❛ OH, SHE ISN'T PLAYING ❜
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❚❙ REQUEST BY @ocetevasgirl: Hola preciosa! Can I request prompt 8 from the fluff list with Voight? Love you 💖
❚❙ PROMPTS: “You're jealous, aren't you?” “You're calling that jealousy? If she/he can still use her/his legs, I'm not being jealous”.
❚❙ HANK VOIGHT MASTERLIST.
❚❙ WORDS: about 2k.
❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.
❚❙ GIF credits: to my amazing @sonsofeorl.
❚❙ Tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @inlovewith3 @ocetevasgirl @sophie-writes. If you want to be added to my tag list, send me a message.
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Since you saw this morning Olivia Benson walking downstairs accompanied by Voight, your good mood got burned into ashes just in a sight. He hadn't told you that she was going to come and, actually, he hadn't why to tell you. For him, it's only part of his job. But you know it's something else for her. You have seen her how she looks at your man. The unjustified and unnecessary touches on his back, on his arm. The stupid smiles she draws to him, that you would be delighted of erasing using your fist.
You have never, ever, been the kind of jealous girl. You trust your boyfriend blindly, but you don't trust her. You can't. You have tried it with all your efforts, but then you heard her laughing for no reason and Hank responding with a fleeting smile. You haven't talked him about how you feel, because the age gap between both makes you look stupid sometimes. Fortunately, you're professional enough to not let these things affect your job and your relationship. You have learnt how to hide your emotions, even if sometimes your friends suspect that something is going on by the tic that makes you blink your left eye unconsciously.
Aware that he must be there with his amazing friend, Kim places a hand on your shoulder trying to encourage you to cross the entrance and come into the Molly's. Licking your lips as you calm yourself a little, you nod pushing the door to be embraced by the warm atmosphere inside it, covering you from the cold breeze of Chicago. Letting your eyes travel around the place, you greet some of your friends waving a hand, before landing your gaze on your boyfriend. He turns at that exact moment, not even trying to contain a smile. You show him another back, but his disappears when he sees you passing him away straight to the Unit's table without greeting him. And Olivia notices it, but you don't care.
“What's up, trouble?” Jay pulls down your hair, earning a laugh from you.
“Platt said you crashed a patrol”. Wrinkling your nose in a funny gesture, after Adam's words, you take a seat next to him.
“These aren't the things you have to learn from us, you know it, right?” Antonio makes you all chuckle, calling to his sister raising a finger to ask for more beers.
“I caught the bad guy, didn't I?”
“Yeah, crashing a car”. Atwater raises his eyebrows, leaning over the table.
“But I caught the bad guy, that's my job not to take care of the cars. I'm not a mechanic…”
“BUT A COP!” You all say in unison, as always, like a famous quote.
As soon as the beers arrive, you make another toast for your car lost in action. And everything is fun until you feel a presence behind you and the silence gets installed around your table. Gulping and licking your bottom lip, as your friends drink from their bottles trying to pretend that you all weren't doing what you were doing, you turn around over your stool forcing a smile.
“Having fun, officer (Y/L/N)?” Platt's voice gives you the kind of shivers you can hide.
“No, no, n— I mean… yes”. The look on her face causes you to swallow again. “I me—mean, no?”
“It's a simple question. Yes or no”.
“Trudy, leave the kid alone”.
Saved by the bell. Your hero.
“Crash a car is part of our tradition, ain't it?” Hank tries to put some humor in the situation, traveling his eyes from her to you.
“Hm”. The woman just replies, before walking away.
You don't know about what kind of tradition he is talking of, but at least he has saved your ass. Again. Not being able to look at him, you sip from your beer trembling yet. Probably, tomorrow Crowley will ask for a convincing explanation. I caught the bad guy will not work with her, that's for sure. Feeling a soft touch in your lower back, you raise your orbs from the bottle to your boss, who makes a brief move with his chin to point at the back door at the end of the bar. You don't want to go, you know exactly what it's going to happen and you just want to forget the intense day you have had. But he raises his eyebrows with that cockiness usual on him, about to drag you if you don't put down from your stool.
With an imperceptible sight, you end up obeying in silence under the attentive eyes of your friends. Hank walks behind you with both hands in the pocket of his jeans, as you wear your jacket to zip it above your chest. The fresh air hits your face once you reach the Molly's back alley, resting your back against the wall with your face bowed to your military black boots. Placing himself in front of you, he studies thoroughly your gesture, your lips pressed and the lack of eye contact.
“What's the matter?”
Shaking your head slightly, you cross one leg behind the other, putting your hands on your lower back.
“You're jealous, aren't you?”
Letting go an exaggerated chuckle, you roll your eyes before gluing them on him. “You're calling that jealousy? If she can still use her legs, I'm not being jealous”.
“It ain't a good moment to be sarcastic, sweetheart”.
“I'm not. She is just a colleague, right?”
Hank nods in silence tilting his head closer and you're sure he can hear your heart speeding up under your skin. He always does that, putting you nervous only to prove the power he has on you, on your body, on your senses. And you hate him. You hate how proud he feels because of it. The grin on his face causes a chill down your spine, standing up from the wall to pretend that he is wrong, that he doesn't control your reactions.
“Hm… Good to know you're conscious of her position. She's gonna stay in my house tonight. We didn't plan to need more than one day and she doesn't have a place”.
For a moment, the image of you punching his face runs your mind, keeping your hands inside the pockets of your jacket to close them in two fist until you feel your nails hurting your palms. There are a lot of replies to his words stuck in your throat, but if it's a proof of trust, you would fail miserably. This is a clash of titans and you're not going to let him win.
“That's fine”. You respond squinting at him, taking a step ahead almost facing Hank. “Anything else?”
“No”.
“Okay”.
With a feigned smile, you turn to the left to leave the alley and come back to your private party, which means to get drunk until Burgess and Hailey have to carry you home.
“What an interesting night is gonna be”. Hank whispers seeing you grabbing the doorknob, teasing you as only he knows how to do.
Kissing your lips as your steps stop dead, you turn your head about to lose your calm.
“If I see her putting a hand on your leg again, I'm gonna break every single fucking bone of her body”.
You couldn't help it. He knows exactly which words he has to use to push you to the edge. The worst part is the fun he usually has doing it. Walking towards you moving his head as if he was nodding, Hank caresses his bottom lip with a forefinger looking thoughtful.
“I didn't think of you as someone violent”.
“Fucking watch me, Voight”.
“Hm…”
Containing a laugh, he opens the door for you, pointing at the inside with a hand. Clearly challenging you. But before you can pass him away, the sergeant grabs your forearm to push you back and lean his lips over your ear.
“She booked the hotel yesterday”. His raspy voice touring your head makes you feel your cheeks burning in shame.
He has won already and you know it. Wanting to leave him again, he pulls you back again hearing the heavy snort escaping your mouth.
“She knows who you are. Told her this morning”.
Did really he? Arching up one of your eyebrows, you can't help but turn your face slightly at him. Your parted lips reveal the surprise and the confusion. Why can she know it, but not your friends? Just because she doesn't work in Chicago? It isn't fair. At least, under your opinion. It's not like you're going to act like Voight's girlfriend and take the advantage of what it means. But it allows you to smile at him when you cross your eyes in the hallways, it allows you to don't have to hide if you want to have lunch together, it allows you to not have to drive two different cars and leave his house before him to work. Small simple things that for you means a lot.
“Cut off the show, boss. Everybody is looking at us”.
It isn't the first time that Hank can't avoid touching you somehow in public, finding the stupidest excuse just to feel you. And he really enjoys putting you nervous, watching the way you lick your lips and bite the bottom one, feel the way your body gets tense when he lays his hands on you, the short frights he gives you coming behind you and whispering ‘officer (Y/L/N)’ in your ear.
Actually, there's no reason why you decided to hide your relationship. You haven't even talked about it. You haven't thought if it's because of the age gap, because of his past, because he is your boss (...). You haven't given it any importance, till you met Olivia Benson a couple months ago. That kind of sergeant who comes from New York and thinks that she runs the Chicago police department. Hank hasn't told you how they met, imagining they did when he was working on the Gang Unit.
“Admit your jealousy”. Tilting his head enough to look into your eyes, the challenging grimace comes back to his face.
Knowing that he's not going to stop, you simply nod. “It isn't fair that other women can… touch you, and I have to wait more than twelve hours just… simply to smile at you without looking suspicious”.
Hank can hear to perfection the hopelessness in your voice, feeling your fingers loosening his grip around your other forearm. It's not a question of possessiveness, but of insecurity; and he's discovering it now, thinking about since when you feel like that.
“Do you wan'me to take you home?”
You shake your head, now with guilt running under your skin because you know it has ruined his night.
“I'm okay, boss. Gonna have some fun with my friends after a long day”.
“Will you have some fun with your boss after that? End the night in my house playing pool, drinking whisky? I will let you win”.
You can't help but show him a fleeting smile, almost curving your lips. That's a yes for him and Hank feels satisfied. Holding your right hand on his, your boyfriend brings it to his mouth placing a tender kiss on the back of it, before letting you go.
Hailey and Burgess are squinting at you, knowing that their suspicions weren't wrong at all. Not saying a word and pretending normality, you sit back on your stool to have a sip from your beer. You're literally sweating right now, and it isn't because of the jacket you are wearing but because of the petty smiles appearing on the other cops.
“You know that we work in Intelligence, right, little trouble?” Antonio is the first one talking jokingly.
“Yeah, and we don't need to be detectives to know what's going on”. Hailey hums resting his arms over the table.
“How is Voight in private? I've always had curiosity. He takes off the stick of his ass when he comes home, or…?”
“Halstead, I can hear you”.
“Yeah, that was the intention, Sarge”. He replies, lifting up his beer in a silent toast.
Turning at Hank just for a second, you can't help but shrug with your eyebrows briefly frowned in a funny grimace that makes him giggle. It was inevitable, since they have seen the way and how close he has talked to you. But now, the pressure within your chest is dropping down, feeling better.
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cedricslover · 4 years ago
Text
Troubled (final)
Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Fem! Reader
Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 
Series summary: A very unfortunate situation happened and it resulted in very unfortunate events. You had everything, a good boyfriend that everyone dreamed of, best friends that you got in a twin pack, and a loving school. It was a calm before a storm and in your sixth year the storm came. You faced the consequences your deceased parents run from, you were only left with your only family, your little brother. What would you do in order to save him? The answer is, everything, even if it means joining a terrorist group of wizards, joining THE DEATH EATERS…
Chapter Summary: Death is inevitable 
Note: there is no specific house:))) I would like to thank everyone that kept waiting and was patient enough, I started this series around March and now it is May. This is my very first series and I hope you all liked it! Again thank you so much❤❤
Warnings: angst, death, little bit of violence
Word Count: 4.2k
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You stopped in front of a headstone. Your hair brushing your cheeks as the wind blew it. "Hey" you started talking, through the years the big lump in your throat slowly fades whenever you visit. "It must be nice there" you smiled and placed the flowers that you were holding down to the ground. 
You breathed in the familiar smell of the field. The smell of the countryside was really different from London. Closing your eyes, memories of the past came flooding in. 
[5 years ago]
"WHAT?" Phoebe, one of your roommates looked at you with shock, "what?" You chuckled as you ate a chocolate frog. 
"What do you mean "what"? So we're just going to act like we didn't see Diggory in front of our dorm earlier" Alice rolls her eyes as she brushes her blond hair, "Oh yeah we got back together" you shrugged and sat on your bed. 
"You really won't tell us what happened that broke the two of you?" Phoebe's voice became wary, she was trying not to say something bad. You shake your head and smile apologetically. "I'm sorry girls" you felt bad. You wanted to tell them of course, but even your best friends since first year don't even know. And surprisingly didn't even nag you about it. 
"It's alright doll, we understand. Besides, Diggory is a great guy, you two are both smart enough to know what is right and wrong" Alice looks at you, there is always comfort in her eyes. Like she always knows what is going on even if you don't talk. She was the perfect example of the person that you can vent to and she will just listen. 
"How about you girls, anything going on with your lives? Why is it always mine?" You laid down and stared at the ceiling. Silence filled the room. For about 10 minutes only the brushing of the tip of the quill to a parchment, breathing, and the noise from the common room are the only sounds you heard.
"Nothing much" you heard a bed squeaked, it was probably Phoebe's. "My life is the most boring one yet" Alice mutters and sighed,  you can see her sitting on her bed. "I don't think so. Each of our lives have different stories. I don't think that's boring" you replied before you pulled your blanket and be completely eaten up by darkness. 
Weeks have passed, it seemed to be doing great. Everything was falling back to pieces. After the school found out that you and Cedric got back together, George and the Beauxbaton girl also publicized their relationship, both of them explained that it really wasn't you in the photograph-which you completely didn't want them to do because you didn't owe anyone any explanation- but they still did. 
Fred and Angelina seemed to be also doing great, well, especially how Fred is under Angelina. 
Of course Barty Jr.-that's disguising as Professor Moody was always giving you 'the look'. Everytime and everywhere, even at class, even your classmates find it strange why Professor Moody always calls you, and then gets mad. They feel bad but you just let it all go, because you knew what his true colors are. 
"Fred" she warns
"Frederick Gideon" with her scary tone
"Frederick Gideon Weasley" that's when you all know Fred was in trouble. 
"Hello darling" you smiled and kissed Cedric's lips before you sat beside him at the library. You both have free time, especially him, tomorrow was the final task, he was trying to study spells that he might use.   
"Hey" he stops reading and wraps his arms around your waist, "Tired" he murmurs while he buries his head on your neck. "You want to eat sumthin'?" You asked while playing with his fluffy hair, running your fingers through his scalp. "No" you can feel his breathing on your neck, it sends shivers down your spine. 
After a while of complete silence, Cedric's breathing seemed to follow a pattern, that's when you knew he was asleep, in your arms. 
You started humming a song that your mum used to sing you to sleep. You can't see his face, but felt it instead, his nose, his lips, his forehead, it felt peace. It felt like home. 
And later on, you also found yourself getting sleepy, your eyelids drooping down. And before you give up on the warmth, your eyes found the book-or more like a magazine that Cedric was reading earlier, you didn't notice it earlier until now. You let out a smile before you closed your eyes.
'Real Estate Magazine, Countryside Edition'
You woke up early, dressed up early, showered early, and went to get breakfast early, and you didn't expect that a lot of students were up early too. Earlier than usual.
"Y/N!" You turned your head while you chewed a toast. It was the trio. "Hey" you greeted them as they sat in front of you. "You alright?" You looked at them while your forehead creased, "yeah" they all answered in unison, that caught them off guard. 
"Harry's going to be fine don't worry" you shake your head and smile as you reach for another toast. "It's just that-" Harry stopped and his hand went to his forehead, where the scar is. 
"His scar's been hurting ever since he woke up" Ron told you, his face was screaming with worry, just the same as Hermione. 
"You should take a rest Harry. You still have til before dusk. I think that would be enough time to prepare and rest" you said, trying to cover the worry in your voice, and of course the fear. 
You four continued to eat, the Great Hall was starting to get more crowded, noise, banners, cheers, they were all anticipating who will win the triwizard tournament. Although you should be joining this crowd, wearing shirts with the one they support, cheering, waving the banners at 8 am. You can't. You were filled with worry, Harry's scar was hurting, and it seemed strange that the Dark Lord wasn't doing anything the whole year. 
And as you walked by Moody's office, it seemed like your suspicions were answered. 
"I already handled it, Dark Lord. Yes, yes, but how about the girl?" You heard Moody, he was rather loud, obviously he used the opportunity as most of the students would be either outside or the Great Hall.
"She wouldn't be a nuisance, we have his brother. She will be extremely useful for the next few years. She has much more potential than her parents. Let her bloom Barty" a faint voice answered him, that was the reason Harry's scar was hurting since this morning. Mere communication can still cause it, you knew he couldn't possibly be physically here. 
"What if Harry wouldn't be the one touching the cup?" Moody's voice was filled with excitement but at the same time, fear. 
"I'll kill them. And you next. Better do your job Barty." The voice disappeared. Your eyes widened as you heard footsteps slowly approaching the door. You ran to the closest hiding spot and peeked. 
"Better handle that girl then" Moody looked around before he drank again from his flask. "Polyjuice Potion" you whispered as you observed him. 
He walked away, to the direction you came from, you waited until you made sure he was gone. 
"Mad-Eye Moody!" You started banging the trunk where Moody was prisoned, your hands shaking as you got the key from one of the drawers. 
"Moody!" You banged again, panting, your sweat started dripping. Your heart was beating fast, you have to do something. You sure don't know anything, but Moody surely does. 
You finally opened the last layer of it and saw that he was there, peering back at you, he was thinner than the last time you saw him. And he lost a lot of hair too. 
He seemed mad, of course, you were the only person inside the castle that knew the Professor Moody that was going around the school the whole year was an imposter, well aside from Cedric who was suspicious.
You started explaining to him, now this was the person that deserved your explanation, not the gossip people. 
It took a while before he finally understood. He must be thirsty and hungry, but you didn't bring any food but only your wand. You looked for any container and luckily you saw a flask, it must have been a spare Polyjuice Potion, you threw the insides away.
"Aguamenti" you chanted and the flask started to be filled with clean water. You cleaned the mess you made and returned it from what it was when you entered before you slowly dropped the flask to Moody who was now drinking it like he hadn't drank any water for a whole week.
"I cannot hear clearly, but I heard Little Hangleton. You know that right?" You nodded at his question. "I don't know what and how, but they would try to bring the Dark Lord back. In power" he looks directly at your eyes, his gaze was piercing, he was expecting you to do something. And you will. 
"I'll be back" the last words you said to him before you slowly closed the trunk, he nods slightly for a response, there was also something in his look, the same look you saw with your parents when they were about to die, the same look you saw with the people of the Order, it was a look of hope and pride. 
"Hey hey" you stopped on your tracks and it snapped you back into reality, you didn't know what to do, "Y/N?" Cedric cupped your face, you looked at his eyes, his questioning eyes. "What's wrong, love?" He tucked strands of hair from your face to behind your ear. Your breathing started to calm down. 
"They're moving Ced, I have to do something" you admitted, there was no point in keeping it a secret to him. His jaw dropped, he was now looking everywhere, trying to be cautious. 
"What can I do to help?" He asks, you felt bad, and it seemed like he noticed it. "Don't feel bad, Y/N. You already carried too much burden, at least let me help you carry it" his mouth curves as he assures you. "It will all be okay" he whispers, still not letting go of your face.
You were still doubting, but he was persistent. "Protect Harry. Help me protect Harry, Ced" your eyes darted to him, both of you knew this was a life and death situation. This wasn't just those silly games you played before, you both only had one chance to save a life, and this was it. 
"I will" he nods, there was more than just the tournament in his mind now. And that is to protect Harry. At all costs.
You observed Harry the whole time before the task, ofcourse, not being so obvious. You would join the three of them at some point, or drag Harry with you and the twins as they show the fireworks that they made and plan to light up when he wins or Cedric. 
It was a win-win, Harry forgets that bloody scar while you keep an eye on him. 
And now, it was Cedric's turn. 
He kissed your forehead and gave you a little smile. "You did well. Let me take over" he said before he turned his back and let go of your hand. Amos waited for him and waved in your direction. The corners of your mouth turned up, trying to be nice to him, despite how you somehow despised because of how he always pressures his son, he always has to do this, reach this, be like this. It was not healthy. 
You knew he was trying to be a good parent, but you wished he had taken lessons from your father before he died. Thankfully Mrs. Diggory was nice enough to appreciate Cedric's achievements, small or big. 
"You alright?" Alice asked you as you sat at the bleachers. "Quite" you smiled at her and returned your gaze to the champions. You were with Alice now, well long story short, the twins were with their girlfriends, even Phoebe, and Alice invited you to join her so here you are now. You know Alice is beautiful, she is also great in academics, even she and Luna Lovegood could really pass as siblings, they have the same interest in things that were believed to be not there, and even their way of clothing were the same. But they both confirmed that they were not related. Still, you were still quite confused as to why she was not out there, having a partner. 
"You know that guy?" She pointed to Gregory Goyle's older brother. "Yeah?" There were lines forming between your eyebrows. "He asked me out" she giggled and covered her mouth with her hand, her shoulders started shaking, you also laughed. "What really?" You asked in disbelief, you tried your best not to laugh out loud.
You hated Goyle, he always bullies the ones that he believed was weaker, even Alice. He always made fun of Alice and how she always tries to get people's attention. Now look how the tables have turned.
"He asked me out with those cheesy pick up lines, doll. I tried my best not to laugh and just rejected him immediately" you were both still laughing. She stated some of the pick up lines that made you laugh so much but you still tried not to be loud so in the end, you choked on your own saliva while she stifled a laugh as she pats your back.
The laughter seemed to be a curse, bad luck, or just joy before a disaster. Because right after that you all saw a yellow light sparked to the sky, it was from someone in the maze. 
You were the only one who was not confused, because as that yellow spark flashed, it was a message for you.
'He is safe. Cedric's with him' 
Red sparks were seen earlier, it must have been a marker for the injured ones, but the Yellow ones, the audience and judges didn't know what it meant, only you.
You started praying to the higher ups, if they were ever there, listening to you. You prayed that they would be fine. Only a few scratches, but still good. After just a few minutes another yellow spark was seen, the people decided to shrug it off, but you, you were beyond happy and relieved. The second spark should mean that they got to the cup. They should be arriving any second now. 
You anxiously waited for them, ten seconds, twenty, thirty, and then a minute and they weren't still here. 
'Little Hangleton' 'Back in power' ‘Dark Lord’ 'Coming Back' 'Do your job' 'Kill' 
Voices started to cloud in your mind, Moody, Barty Jr., Voldemort, memories, you patched up the information you got. 
And without even thinking twice you disapparated, thankful that Dumbledore lifted the anti-disapparition charm because there were a lot of outsiders anticipating the third task.
You grunted as you stumbled, you hated how apparition makes your insides like they were being squeezed. It was convenient of course, but you didn't like it. 
"Kill the spare"  you heard, your vision was still dizzy, but you knew that voice. Your vision was blurry, the world was spinning and it felt like your intestines were spinning too. It was the after effect of apparating. 
You stood up, still feeling nauseous, “NOOO!” you shouted as you ran, there were figures and you knew who they were. “Avada Kedavra!” it was definitely Pettigrew, no, not Cedric, not me, not Harry, don’t kill us, please, the words repeated in your mind. The few steps felt like a hundred, you wanted to stop time, and as you rushed towards the figures your vision was slowly being clear. And by the time you can entirely see clearly, you wished, you hoped, that someone blinded you, you wished that this was a dream, hallucination, but as you collapsed on your knees, as the rough ground kissed your legs, it was all real.
“Alice...” tears started to fall from your face as you looked at her face. Her reddish cheeks was now white, her lively eyes was now soulless, her warmth, 
It’s gone, she’s gone. 
“YOU!” You stood up, picking up your wand, Cedric stood beside you, “Free Harry” You commanded him, your nose was now flaring, glaring at the two figures in front of you, Peter Pettigrew carrying the weak Voldemort. 
“Expulso!” you incant, in a snap, Voldemort was now dropped to the ground while Pettigrew was far away, “I’ve had enough of you. You and your values” you stared at Voldemort who was now crawling away, he was so weak, and this was the only time you could do it. The only time you could take revenge from all the lives he took.
“You’re so weak, and you should stay weak” You stepped on his thin legs, he screeched like a creature tortured, “You deserve, every, single, pain” now you stomped on his hand, you felt the bone touch the sole of your feet despite wearing shoes. 
“Sectumsempra!” you cried at his pleading face, you thanked that potions book you saw in the classroom. You watched as so blood just came out from the child like figure in front of you, for a second you thought you were doing something beyond your morals, but you remembered, the images of people that this person-no- monster killed, the mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, and friends, he took away so many lives, he made the world like his playground, killing whoever he felt to kill, and that justified what you did. Regret was not even near. 
“Incarcerous” Cedric’s voice echoed, the tense was back again, Pettigrew was still here, “We’ll take care of him” he told you, giving a second to glance at the lifeless Voldemort that was on the ground, curled, you nodded as an approval. 
And like a vase dropped, or someone threw a big stone to your head, you remember Alice's bleeding body, her opened eyes but why? Why is there a ghost of a smile plastered on that doll-like face?
You slowly walked to her lying body, you never expected that this would happen, that she, she would do something like this. Did she just suddenly hold your arm as you disapparated? Is that why she splinched, her arms, even her legs were bleeding. 
“Dumbass, did you even know where I was going.” you kneeled, reached for her face and removed the strands of hair that were blocking her face. “You’re so dumb. Who’s going to call me doll anymore” you blinked and a tear fell straight to her cheek, you blinked again, another tear fell, you blinked, again and again, and at the same time, tears fell on her pale face, you cried, wailed, even shouted while hugging her body. 
She was there when you needed her, she was there to understand you. She was there when you cried, laughed, even if you were sick, she was there. 
“Doll, come here.” Alice called you while you were packing your things, you were a mess, you just heard that your mother was ill, you have to go home. You sighed and let go of the clothes and walked towards her, she tapped the seat in front of the mirror. 
“You know, you should always look tough in front of the people you have to protect. That’s what my parents told me before. The people that saved them from the Death Eaters, they were tough, I told you about that right?” she started brushing your hair, you examined your reflection, your eyebags were visible, you were also definitely thinner than usual, you felt drained. 
“Before my ma died, she told me information about those who saved them. My ma and pa owe their life to them.” even if you didn’t look at her face, you know she was smiling. “She told me that when they were being saved, the woman was pregnant” you can feel the gentleness from her touch. 
“And?” you asked, she was now tying your hair, “and she told me to protect that child, a token of gratitude for giving my ma and pa another tomorrow” she placed the flower accessories in your hair. 
“Did you protect the child?” you turned to her and saw her eyes twinkled, “I still am doll” she replied to you before she handed your bag. Alice used magic to help you pack, you laughed and hugged her, “Thank you” your mouth curved into a smile. “Aww it’s nothing” she waves her hand and rolls her eyes, acting shy. “Shut up” you chuckle before you turn your back and step outside. 
“You impulsive lady, how about that child you should protect. How can you protect them if you’re dead” You were still crying, thinking about all the memories you had with her, and how you would tell Phoebe, she would be heartbroken. 
Was it really necessary? Are sacrifices really necessary? You just wanted to stop a war, a cycle, you wanted to follow the path your parents took, are deaths really necessary? In exchange for peace, a life should be taken. A meaningful life, someone's daughter, friend, and stranger. 
[present]
“Y/N!” a woman’s voice called you, you turned your head and saw a woman, her hair was now just above her shoulder, brown curls jumping as she walked the hill. “Phoebe” you greeted and opened your arms, she sprinted and hugged you. 
“Oop, be careful with the tummy” you grinned and touched your tummy, there was already a big bump, you were pregnant. “Hello there little one” she lowered herself and talked to your bump. 
“It’s her death anniversary isn’t it” she straightened herself and was now staring at the headstone. 
     Alice Constance O’Brien
March 12, 1978 - June 24, 1995
“Hmm” you answered, peace and silence enveloped the both of you. “It was Alice all along.” sadness took over your face as you remembered what Alice has done for you. 
  Loving daughter and friend
                A hero 
“Ced that night when you saw me following the man. Why were you still roaming?” you asked Cedric as he sat at the library.
“I haven’t told you yet? It was the Head Boy, well technically it was Alice actually, she told me that the head boy couldn’t find me so he asked her to tell me. My schedule changed that time” he muttered as he chewed a pumpkin pasty. Your eyebrows shot up and just shrugged. You owe Alice an acid pop at Hogsmeade.
“She was the one who told me about your situation. She must have known about the dark mark but never told us. She wanted to help you, but in the shadows.” Remus admitted as you talked to him about Alice’s death. He was shocked, the whole society members actually. They are now taking care of his subjects that were lurking around. 
“Hello ladies!” George and Fred suddenly appeared, both of them wrapped their arms around each of your shoulders. “Fred. I prefer women, thank you” Phoebe removed Fred’s arm and even tried to dust it off, “Rude” Fred squinted his eyes at her while she just smirked and flipped her hair.
“Where’s your husband and brother?” George asked and also placed flowers at the ground. Now there were a lot of flowers for Alice. “You’re liking that aren’t you?” you talked to the headstone, you were all just silent. Even the loud twins fell in silence, they liked Alice, not romantically, they admired her, how she was unique, always had a voice, and how she stood up for herself. 
“I love it doll” you heard a whisper as the breeze came by, you knew it was her, it had always been her. She was still there, watching. 
“Oh Alice” Phoebe started crying, the twins tried to offer her a hug but she went to you instead, you sniggered as you saw their offended face. 
They all felt her. 
“Hey!” two voices called all of your attention and there it was, Cedric your husband, and your eight year old brother. Theodore hurried to the twins that immediately picked him up, he liked them. “We bought snacks.” Cedric raised a basket and spreaded out a cloth to the grass. 
“Are you crying?” Cedric inspected Phoebe who still has her nose red from crying. “Yes. What about it” she rolled her eyes and got bread from the basket while Cedric was still arranging the cloth. “I’m just asking.” Cedric chuckled and shook his head. 
You observed each and one of them, they all changed, with their own careers and life, of course they will change. Cedric was now working at the ministry, he did once think about being a professional quidditch player, but he felt like a work at the ministry would be better, and he liked it. The twins and their joke shop was still going, stronger as it was before, they’ve built quite the reputation, and Phoebe, she was now a Herbologist, she always had an interest in plants. 
And you, you also built your career, with your dream job. 
Are you seeing this Alice? I made it. We made it. 
You carefully sat at the cloth and they all asked you what you would name the child inside of you. Your eyes gleamed, you always knew that if you had a chance to name your child it would be…
“Alice”
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hamueltobin · 4 years ago
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behold! i didn't see any otgw icebergs, so i made my own :)
if you think i should add something, lmk!!
Explanations under cut :)
First layer:
▪︎Beast!Wirt au - very popular au in which Wirt stays in the Unknown, possessed by the Beast to some extent.
▪︎Bad End Friends - Crossover AU of Beast!Wirt teaming up with Ice Finn from Adventure Time and Bipper from Gravity Falls; sometimes other 'bad end' au characters are thrown in such as a glitched Gumball from TAWOG
▪︎Irl Copies of the For Sara tape - Limited copies of the For Sara tape were sold at two points. They have yet to sell for a third time. (🤞🤞🤞)
▪︎Tome of the Unknown (pilot) - The Pilot of the series. Can be watched on YouTube.
▪︎Wirt Staying in the Unknown - In a scrapped ending, Wirt was to stay in the Unknown, saying that facing your real problems was scarier than staying there.
▪︎Mystery Kids - Crossover AU with other child-late teens aged characters from sources based on mysterious and supernatural themes such as Gravity Falls and Psychonauts.
▪︎Quincy Endicott's grave - Quincy's grave can be seen in the graveyard that Sara and the others are hanging out in.
▪︎Original Beatrice Voice Actress - Beatrice had a different VA in the pilot, Natasha Leggero. Melanie Lynskey voices her in the actual series.
▪︎The Woodsman's Daughter is Named Anna - The comics have several issues focused on his daughter, in which her name is revealed to be Anna.
▪︎Jason Funderburker's Ax Murderer Story - At the gathering in the graveyard, Funderburker is telling a story about a man with an ax; this story is believed to have influenced the existence of the Woodsman.
▪︎Full Versions of Songs in the OST - A handful of the songs are cut down for their appearances in the series and can only be heard in full on the OST. The most notable example is Old Black Train , which is actually 2 minutes and 15 seconds long, but is only in the series for about 15-20 seconds.
Second Layer:
▪︎Sara is named after the Fleetwood Mac song - Listen to it here :) it is notable that it includes lyrics about "drowning in a sea of love" and that Sara is "the poet of [the singer's] heart."
▪︎OTGW Reanimated - a reanimated project for the first episode. Got taken off of YouTube, but can be viewed on Dailymotion.
▪︎Baby Wirt Audio - In the For Sara cassette, there is a small section of audio that can be heard in about the middle of the recording of Wirt's father talking to him as a baby.
▪︎Funderburker/Funderberker - The two Jasons's surnames are spelled slightly differently to avoid confusion.
▪︎The Brothers Never Ate or Needed to Rest - Although Greg expressed being hungry, neither of the boys actually ate anything (outside of one spoonful of bland potatoes and inedible items such as dirt and leaves) and never laid down to rest, only sleeping when night came.
▪︎Book on Interior Design in Wirt's Room - In Wirt's from, a book on interior design can be seen laying on the floor, backing up the knowledge he displayed when analyzing the interconnected mansions.
▪︎Mad Love was Based on a Dream - The plot of Mad Love came from a dream that Pat McHale had about house hunting. In the dream, while exploring one of the houses being shown, he ended up wandering into someone else's home.
▪︎Beatriceoftheday - A blog dedicated to our lord and savior Beatrice, known for its strange shitposts and intense praise of the titular bird girl.
▪︎Wirt is Jealous of Greg's Popularity - Shown in the Circus Friends issue of the comics, Wirt is jealous of Greg's ability to make everyone laugh and have fun. This may factor into his dislike of his brother.
▪︎Greg was Feeding Fred at the Tavern - At first watching, one may be confused as to where all the food Greg was gathering went, why Fred was wearing lipstick and why he was refusing to talk to Beatrice. Shown in a deleted scene, this all explained, as Fred tells Beatrice that he didn't talk to her because Greg was feeding him.
▪︎Elijah Wood Voiced the Crazy Driver - Exactly what is says on the tin, the nutty driver was voiced by Wood.
▪︎Cloud City is Heaven - A popular theory that Cloud City actually represents Heaven.
▪︎Greg is Greg Universe - A headcanon/theory that has mostly died out that Greg is the same Greg in Steven Universe.
▪︎Bee Beatrice - Beatrice was originally cursed to become a bee, but was changed into a bluebird to match better with the seasonal autumn theme.
▪︎Pat McHale Voiced Wirt's Voice Crack - Wirt's voice crack when asking the Beast Are You? was actually done by McHale, not Wood.
▪︎The Other Actors Harassing Elijah Wood When Singing Wirt's Song - In order to make the performance as awkward as possible, the other actors were asked to yell and demand Wirt to sing. This can be heard in the episode.
▪︎Come Wayward Souls Has the Same Melody as O Holy Night - The song shares a cadence with "O Holy Night", and can be sung to its tune.
▪︎Black Turtles Origin/Purpose - No one knows why the black turtles exist, and McHale has said that they're just one of the unexplainable things of the Unknown.
▪︎Anna Never Left the House - In the aforementioned comics, it is shown that Anna had never left the house, living on her own until the Woodsman's return.
▪︎Sailor Suit Greg - Greg originally wore a sailor suit, but was changed later on to his current, Johnny Appleseed inspired outfit .
▪︎Beatrice Missing Being Able to Flip People Off - In the Art Book, Beatrice's introduction states that one of the reasons she hates being a bird is because she no longer has hands to flip people off with.
Third Layer
▪︎Jason Funderberker is Visually Based on a Teen Pat McHale - As seen here, Funderberker was designed after McHale.
▪︎Babes in the Wood is Based on an Old Alice in Wonderland Cartoon - You can view the original 1923 cartoon here! Starts at 4:25.
▪︎Wirt and Sara are Dipper and Mabel's Parents - A popular AU/hc where Dipper and Mabel of Gravity Falls are the future kids of Wirt and Sara.
▪︎The Tune of Wirt's Song is Improvised - In addition to the aforementioned harassment, in a further attempt to make the performance as awkward as possible, Elijah Wood was not given a tune to sing, only the lyrics.
▪︎Wirt's Costume Origin - As said in the art book and on his tumblr, Wirt's cone and cape come from an attempted rock and roll persona from McHale's teen years.
▪︎Greg is Based on Pat McHale's Son - It has been claimed that Greg is based on McHale's son, but Greg existed before him. The similarities are simply coincidental.
▪︎Old Scratch - The original name of the Beast.
▪︎The Beast Killed the Woodsman's Wife - Shown in the comics, The Woodsman's wife was mortally injured, with her attacker implied to be the Beast.
▪︎Wirt and Greg Staying in the Unknown Until Christmas - Another scrapped ending, in which the brothers stay in The Unknown until Christmas, with their absence unexplained.
▪︎Tome of the Unknown (original plot) - Early concepts had the Beast ( then known as Old Scratch as mentioned earlier ) scattering the pages of the titular book for the brothers to collect. Each page would come to life and the brothers would explore each story.
▪︎Dante's Inferno Comparisons - Check out these videos for full analysis!
▪︎Wirt Panty Shots - In the aforementioned Circus Friend comics, Wirt dons a dress as part of a disguise. Later on, he rips off the bottom half off, revealing that he is wearing bloomers.
▪︎The Beast's True Form was Inspired by Trypophobia - As stated in the art book, The Beast's hole-filled appearance was inspired by Trypophobia, the fear of many small holes.
▪︎The Fight is Over is About Drowning - Give the lyrics another read.
▪︎The Beast Last Minute Design Change - The Beast had a very different design, and it was changed into the current one at the last minute.
▪︎Gnome in Cloud City Representing Wirt - Many people believed that the Gnome with the lantern in cloud city was a parallel to Wirt, or a glimpse into his future. However, this was debunked.
▪︎Send Me a Peach - This song is included in the ost, but isn't in the actual series.
▪︎Fred and the Highwayman's Backstory - The comics expand upon the story of Fred the Horse and his involvement with the Highwayman.
Fourth Layer
▪︎Babes in the Wood Title Origin - The name of this episode comes from an old story of a pair of children getting lost in the woods, dying, and being buried in leaves by robins.
▪︎poorlydrawnotgw - This was a blog created during the poorly drawn series meme period. It consisted of poorly drawn and very strange shitposts and has since been deactivated. I was a part of it as mod Goopy Wirt and only have a handful of images saved from it.
▪︎Read and Listen Book Lost Audio - A read and listen book was created, with the book being read by Greg's Frog, who would stop every now and again to talk about being a frog. The pages can be found online, but the audio is currently lost.
▪︎Skinless Witch - A scrapped episode concept involved a skinless witch that kidnapped Greg and rode him like a horse.
▪︎Gentleman Burglar Wirt - A scrapped concept in which Wirt breaks into a woman's home, who is charmed by this young man who has come to visit her.
▪︎Animal Transformation - It was originally planned for Wirt and Greg to be turned into a bear/dog and a duck and remain that way for several episodes. This was later used in the comics.
▪︎The Unknown is influenced by Wirt's mind/interests - The Unknown is influenced by those who walk in it, in this case, Wirt. This includes the old timey mystical nature of it, as Wirt has been stated to have an interest in old folk tales.
▪︎Good Guy Beast/Black Train Scrapped Concept - In an earlier draft, the brothers were on a train, heading to what they assumed was death. They jump off, ending up in the Unknown. The Beast tries to get them back on the train, which turns out to be heading back to life.
▪︎Evil Woodsman - At one point, the Woodsman was intended to be under the influence of the Beast and tried to sabotage the brothers's attempts to return home.
▪︎Lorna Reading the Tome of the Unknown in the Epilogue - In the epilogue, Lorna can be seen reading the titular book from the aforementioned scrapped plot.
▪︎The Beast was Originally the Devil Himself - The Beast was first designed as a devil-like character, the aforementioned Old Scratch.
▪︎The Brothers Never Went Home/The Hospital is Part of The Unknown - a theory based on the fact that the edges of the screen are still blurred at the end of chapter 10, the rushed narration, and the lack of consequences of nearly drowning.
▪︎Beatrice Seeing Wirt Nude - In one of the comics, Beatrice accidentally sees Wirt while he is washing his clothes in the river.
▪︎Sara is a Descendant of Lorna - A theory that Sara is a distant relative of Lorna.
▪︎Exists in the Same Universe as Clarence and Home Movies - The most well known piece of evidence is the overhead shot of the town matching the town that Clarence is set in. Wirt and Greg also have a cameo in another episode, and one of the final episodes shows Brendon Small of Home Movies runs a movie rental store in the town, connecting all three series together.
Final Layer
▪︎Beast x Wirt - Also known as Poetree.
▪︎Candycone - Greg x Wirt.
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cuebooks · 3 years ago
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Books I’ve read and their ratings:
I’ll add more as I read them, or remember to add them. Any questions? Ask away!
Books in blue
Authors in green
Dates finished in purple
Quick reason in black
If the books main couple is LGBTQ+ it will have a: (Q)
Feel free to send me asks on any of these books, in any question, request, opinions, prompts or anything else. Asks are open and anonymous is on.
Warning ⚠️: I’m an easy rater. So I’ll have a lot of 5-4 stars. No specific order of books under stars just when I remembered them.
————————————————————
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ ⭐️
The Lunar Chronicles Series, by Marissa Meyers: 2016-2017 - got me into reading, and still love it. (Four main books; two novellas)
Clockwork Angel, by Cassandra Clare: Summer 2020 - got me back into reading (again) (1st in Trilogy)
Clockwork Princess, by Cassandra Clare: Summer 2020 - just everything was heart breaking, healing, beautiful descriptions, good plot. It was a really perfect book for me. (3rd in Trilogy)
(Q) Iron Heart, Nina Varela: Fall 2021 - Nothing does it Justice just read this about the amazing world and characters please! I need to talk to someone about this! (Last in duology)
The Bone Witch, by Rin Chupeco: June 2021 - More people need to read this. The magic system focusing on a necromancer sort of girl was absolutely amazing. The characters are their own fire on paper, with a story and duel POV that kept you guessing and some how informed. Person of color main characters and LGBT normalized background rep. (1st in Trilogy)
(Q) Boyfriend Material, by Alexis Hall: Sept 2021 - Easy, I can never make it through romance books, but couldn’t get it out of my head and finished it in two days. A sweet gut wrenching, heart healing rom com. (Better than Red, White and Royal Blue or on par with it, to me.) (Has a sequel but don’t need to read it to finish it. Sequel not out yet.)
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Clockwork Prince, by Cassandra Clare: Summer 2020 - read it and Angel in two days but this took me a bit longer to finish simply because I’m me. But still great. (2nd in trilogy)
A Night Divided, by Jennifer A Nelson: 2017 - distinctly remember staying up till 5am on a school night because I had/wanted to finish it. (Then I finished it.) (Stand alone)
(Q) Crier’s War, by Nina Varela: Fall 2021 - one of the first Lesbian Duologies I read, by an LGBT author, when reading I got so lost in I couldn’t see the words. The characters, the plots, and the world building were so amazing to me, I’ll have to reread. (1st in Duology)
A Curse so Dark and Lonely, by Brigid Kemmerer: Oct 2021 - Loved it, I can’t really explain why but not as entertaining as some of the others on this list, definitely reading the rest in the series though! (1st in a trilogy)
Not Fade Away, by Rebecca Alexander: Spring 2020 - Beautiful Memoir about a girl slowing losing both her hearing and sight. Made me cry and definitely a great read to entertain and ground you, and honestly open your eyes to the world around you. (Standalone)
Kingdom of Sea and Stone, by Mara Rutherford: January 2022 - this was almost 5 stars but the end kinda just cut off with half explanation half open ended, but the characters’ developments, the world, new characters and bonds were so amazing. This book really seeped the world in your mind is a great read. A duology really fits this series (2nd in duology)
⭐️⭐️⭐️
A Court of Thorns and Roses, Sarah J. Maas: May 2021 - I was gonna read the next book, didn’t hate this but didn’t see the full hype of it either. (Originally a trilogy)
(Q) Girls of Paper and Fire, By Natasha Ngan: Aug 2021 - definitely gonna read the rest of the trilogy. Only three stars because it took me forever to make it through the first few chapters as they were a bit slow but once I passed that it was a really enjoyable read. (1st in Trilogy)
Unearthly, Hollowed, and Boundless, all three by Cynthia Hand: Nov 2017 - an angel book that I actually love but the third book’s ending wasn’t great. It wasn’t rushed it just personally wasn’t what I wanted to happen. (Overall trilogy is probably 4 stars but with reading it so young and too many other 4 stars it’s here)
Crown of Coral and Pearl, by Mara Rutherford: June 2021 - a great debut book by her, it was a little simple with the plot but still great writing and something I haven’t read before. A sort of little mermaid thing with a world at sea and a world on land if you throw in a powerful main character, an evil brother, and a verge of a war. (1st in duology)
Sisters of Sword and Song, by Rebecca Ross: Nov 2021 - It was great and the plot was really interesting so was the lore and world building, but I felt the romance was lacking. It seemed more 2D and I wanted more scenes of them to see how they fell for each other. The side relationship other than the sisters were also lacking, like why did the commander so freely switch from holding a grudge to letting her go, we don’t see any thought process from him. But it was a great read just left me wanting in some parts.
⭐️⭐️
Everything Everything, by Nicola Yoon: 2017 - I was furious with the ending. Great book, good writing; I loved it till I read the last 3-4 Chapters. I think this is the book that made me stop reading again. (Standalone)
⭐️
The rest of the ACOTAR trilogy by SJM: DNF because what I did read and then what I heard from book-tubers and booktok I could not move past the horrible treatment of women and fake feminism. Hated the IC, and Feyre and Rhys and she completely scraped my favorite character— Nesta. Does not acknowledge the abuse or how Psychologically damaging it is to go through the ‘healing arcs’ (shouldn’t have to apologize to the people that called you awful things). Awful representation, so much borderline racism, homophobia and anti feminism. And the fandom is toxic (yes there are parts that aren’t but most have not been my cup of tea.) Come rant about it with me, send me messages or asks. (Includes novella and ACOSF)
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vibraniumwing · 4 years ago
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what once was mine.
a neville longbottom x reader wherein the reader catches a disease that everyone fears to get, and when the former realizes what was happening, it was all too late.
WARNING: angst, hanahaki!au, mentions of death, major character death
A/N: okay so this is my own entry for my writing challenge !! the chaotic eggs were talking about hanahaki fics and i just couldn’t shake this idea off. i hate writing angst for this little bean but i JUST can’t let this go. 
prompt: healing incantation from tangled.
word count: 3.2k
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---
Neville walked through the path of what was once his safe haven, the chilling air biting into his skin as he reached the only tree that was in the middle of the vast land that was littered with flowers.
For the beautiful place that once brought him joy, also gave him despair.
---
You and Nevile got along quite well due to the fact that the two of you grew up next to each other and that you’ve always had this special bond over plants— whether it be magical or just the normal kind— meaning that you mostly bonded over tending to the plants at the greenhouse and helping Professor Sprout during your free time. 
He would usually teach you the magical properties of the plants you’ve studied for in Herbology while you teach him certain meanings and symbolisms for flowers that you’ve studied in your free time. 
---
Neville was making his way to the greenhouse when he heard a gentle voice through the window, peeking through, he saw you gently spray the pots of dittany with water as you quietly sang, 
���Flower, gleam and glow Let your power shine Make the clock reverse Bring back what once was mine”
He mesmerized by the way you carried out the song, capturing him in a trance as you continued to sing and tend to the plant, unaware of his presence,
“Heal what has been hurt Change the Fate's design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine”
Your voice growing more silent as you ended the song, only noticing his presence as you turn around and see him looking at you with a rather dazed expression, amazed at what you’ve performed in front of him.
“Nev! how long have you been there?” You question, nearly dropping the watering can, cheeks flushed at the realization that he heard you singing. 
He smiled at you shyly, “Just enough to hear you sing, why have you never told me that you sing so well?” he questioned, jogging to the door and entered the greenhouse, the smile still evident on his lips. 
You shied away from his gaze, “It just never came up as topic, besides my singing abilities aren’t that good.” you now answer, walking back to the table to return the canister and face him, crossing your arms as you lean on the table. “Now I’m guessing you want an answer to why I was singing to them?” Questioning him, motioning to the plants that was in front of you. 
He sheepishly nodded, genuinely curious at your habit. 
Taking a deep breath in, you started to explain, “When I was young, my mom would always sing me this song when she’s healing the small wounds I would get to distract me from the pain, telling me that this song helps to revive what once was in agony.” You answered, walking back over to gently hold the leaves of the magical plant in front of you.
“Then when I started to grow my own garden, I would sing the song to the flowers in my garden when they would show signs of wilting, as if to help them grow back. It’s silly, I know, but I just believe that it helps them in a way.” You finished explaining, looking back at him with an embarrassed expression, still in disbelief that he had finally caught you.
He looked at you incredulously, shocked that you think he would shame you for such a habit. “I don’t think that’s embarrassing, I honestly think it’s adorable.” tone filled with sincerity as he rubbed the nape of his neck, “I would love to learn that song too.”
That was your turn to look at him with disbelief, did he really want to learn the song because of you? 
A huge grin soon came over your lips as you pulled out a tattered leather journal from your bag, handing it over to him. “I might consider teaching you the song if you learn these flowers with me.” You persuaded him, his hands now opening the notebook to see the hand-drawn flowers you’ve designed on the pages, it’s names and meanings beside it.
“You’ve got yourself a deal.” 
---
“Hey (Y/N), what do these flowers symbolize?” He asked you one day, pointing to the page that had carnations decorating the page, the name and its meaning missing. 
You leaned over and smiled sadly at the drawing, “Those are red carnations, Nev.” You started off, leaning on your chair as you continued, “You can see that the red varies from a light red hue to a much deeper and rich one, right? Well, the light red carnations symbolizes admiration while the deeper ones mean deep love and affection.”
He eagerly listened to your explanation, nodding once as he motioned for you to finish what you were saying, you bring your hand towards the white and striped variations of the same flower, “The white ones represent pure love and good luck while the striped ones are for the regret of a love one cannot share. “ You finished, giving him an accomplished look as he was amazed. 
“Who knew a single flower and its colors have tons of meanings.” He commented, fingers gently grazing over the surface of the page as he looked at it with awe. 
“Everything has meaning if you look at enough, Nev.”
---
As days passed by, you’ve bonded over the simple journal filled with flowers, spending hours upon hours showing him what they could mean to a person and how you can care for it. 
as the days passed, you also felt your heart slowly sink in deeper into the emotions you swore to never tell. 
---
You were passing by greenhouse when you heard a familiar tune carry out from the windows, stopping by the very last one, you peek to see Neville carefully tending to his Mimbulus Mimbetonia that he bought in that same year, gently watering the plant as he sang.
“Flower, gleam and glow Let your power shine Make the clock reverse Bring back what once was mine”
Admittedly, his voice wasn’t that good but the tenderness in every word he spoke had you swooning; your heart swelled with adoration as he continued to sing, unaware of how you were silently watching him.
You’ve made yourself content with that, just admiring him from the distance; loving him silently from the side.
---
The two of you were in the Great Hall, immersed yet in another session of flowers and symbols, you were explaining to him the meaning of Camellias when you’ve noticed he seemed to be out of focus, staring off into the distance.
You followed his gaze to the group of students who proudly wore their house color of blue, landing on a certain blonde girl who was eating her food quietly, caught in-between two chattering girls.
Upon realization, your throat started to itch, making you wince at the feeling. “Hey Neville, are you still with me?” You asked, clearing your airway as to ease out on the uneasy feeling stirring inside of you.
He instantly snapped out of it and looked back at you with a grin, “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. You were saying?” motioning you to continue, eyes now glued to the flower you had recently drawn. 
“There are called camellias. Generally, they would symbolize love, affection and admiration to a person. However, like what I’ve explained before, the colors vary what their purpose.” You explained, hand reaching over to scratch your throat as the its irritation intensified, “For example, red would mean love and affection.” 
Neville silently nodded, not noticing how you were struggling with your words, “and these are?” he asked, pointing to the pink ones that were alone by the corner of the page.
“Those are pink camellias, those signify a longing for someone,” You finished.
“Your knowledge on these never ceases to amaze me.”
---
Weeks passed and the irritation just worsened, confusing you to no end about what you may have eaten to cause such a state. 
Until you were walking alongside with Neville until you coughed, feeling a rather foreign object in your mouth. You covered your mouth and looked at your friend with wide eyes before running to the lavatory, stumbling to the sink as you release whatever was in your mouth.
It was petals, and not just any petals, it was striped carnation petals.
You stared at the bunch in your hands, rather terrified of the beautiful red to white design it had. 
---
Seemingly enough, every time you would cough up these little monsters, it would be whenever Neville would be looking or talking to Luna. 
Your eyes looked at the amount of petals you had coughed up in just a week, filling the little jar you had hidden halfway through already. Everyday would be a new struggle for you as your breathing would get restricted more and more each time. 
You sat by the window of your dorm and watched how the glass reflected in the moonlight, gently shaking the jar as you watch the petals flutter inside the case, remembering how you 
You had some alone time after telling Neville that you would stay back at Hogwarts rather than go down at Hogsmeade, telling him that you were feeling a little under the weather for such activities. 
He offered to stay back but you said no, telling him to go have fun and enjoy the rest of the day, to which he reluctantly agreed to and left with Seamus and Dean.
You wandered into the library in hopes at you would find something that would answer what you had been currently suffering with. Eyes quickly skimming through the various books until you came across one that explained muggle ailments and illnesses. 
Scanning through the pages, your eyes had caught a picture of lungs that were slowly being filled with petals, “Hanahaki Disease...” you read out loud, your head pulsating at the realization of what you had caught, its severity causing you to tear up. 
‘This disease is stemmed from a love you cannot receive back, the petals usually appear from a certain flower and reminds them of the person they hold dearest.’ You silently read, blinking through the tears as your fingers played with the carnations that laid rest inside your pocket. 
“It’s severity may vary from petals to coughing up the full form of the flowers, the only known cure for this is aside from the reciprocation of love is the removal of the petals, however the devastating side-effect includes the loss of emotions for the said person. This is severely fatal for those who decide to leave it be, death be their mark for those who pretend not to see.” you whispered, fear creeping into your mind at the realization if you get this removed, your love for Neville will also leave
That’s when you’ve decided to leave what you have as it, choosing to endure what may come rather than to lose Neville.
Your hand clutched the container as sobs soon followed, tears freely flowing down your cheeks, “I’d rather fight and endure the pain may give me than to lose the love I have for you, Nev.”
and for the first time in what seems like forever, there were no petals that night.
---
You’ve decided to keep a notebook to keep track on the days you’ve survived with this living hell, writing down what happened within your day and if you have coughed up any petals; small bits and pieces of how you adore your best friend. 
You were by the Greenhouse, hugging your cardigan closer to your body as you admired the beautiful flowers of a rather wilted aconite, drawing the plant as you quietly sang to yourself, 
“Flower, gleam and glow Let your power shine Make the clock reverse Bring back what once was mine”
Bringing comfort to your rather irritated chest as someone joined along, your head whipped to where the sound came from, seeing Neville walk towards you with a rather warm smile, the same smile that you found comfort in, the same one that caused you to be in the predicament that you are right now.
“What are you drawing there?” He had asked, attempting to peek at the notebook which you closed rather quickly. 
You shook your head and hugged the notebook close to your chest, “You can’t look into this yet, Nev. Not yet.” You had said before coughing once more, a single petal escaping your lips. 
He looked at you with concern etched on his face, rubbing your back soothingly. “You’ve been coughing a lot lately, (Y/N), are you alright?” He asked, voice laced with worry as you nodded, giving him a smile as you held onto his hand.
“I’m all good, Neville, don’t worry. It’s just a cold that’s been sticking around for longer.”
---
You crossed out another date on the calendar you’ve made on your journal, signifying you have yet lived another day with this treacherous disease. It’s been three years since the first day you’ve coughed up petals and you still can’t believe you’ve lasted this long.
The longest record for this was for just 5 months, yet here you are now, marching on your way down to the Great Hall with your heart pounding at the realization that you were about to walk into another battle aside from your own.
As chaos soon ensued, you and Neville were on lookout by the other end of the wooden bridge, on the lookout for the pack of death eaters that were bound to invade the castle that way. You were both staring out into the rather pitch black valley, you were chewing the inside of your cheek as your hands grip on the railing, “Nev, before we both get into this, I just want you to know-”
You were about to confess what you felt for him when a loud rumble of feet interrupted, making you both alert and grip onto your wands as you looked into the distance. You grabbed his hand the moment you saw the death eaters viciously towards the entrance when three of them just obliterated into nothing making the rest halt in their tracks,
Neville gave you a knowing look, a rather victorious smile on his lips, “Yeah?! You and whose army?!”, taunting the large crowd who stopped in their tracks. Yet when a single flare landed on Scabior’s want, you immediately tugged on his sleeve, “Nev, we have to run.” as the death eaters rushed inside the gatehouse. 
You instantly took the lead, the both of you fleeing the bridge while avoiding the spells the snatcher was casting on the both of you while Neville casted a few spells to blow up the bridge. 
You were the first one to the end, watching how the bridge fell as your friend disappeared from your sight, “Neville!” You shrieked, Seamus holding you back as you coughed, your throat not handling the rather strenuous thing.
You struggled in Seamus’ grip, sobbing at the thought that your friend might have plummeted to his death when his want re-emerged from where the bridge cut off, his head soon popping out as he supported himself on the ledge, “That went well.” He groaned. 
You wiped your tears and ran towards him, helping him up as you cupped his face, eyes searching any bruises he might have. “Nev, don’t ever scare me like that again.” You sobbed, not minding the fact that every time you had to take a sharp inhale, it felt like glass was being pushed into your lungs because of the flowers growing within your chest. 
A soft chuckle escaped his lips, breath heaving in lots of air as he felt the adrenaline course through his veins, “I’m okay, (Y/N/N). I promise.” he assured, smiling at you rather happily. 
“Hey I hate to break your moment but we have to get back inside the castle now” Ginny spoke up, motioning the two of you to go and stand up. You both looked at each other and stood up, running along with her into the school as you maneuvered through the sea of students trying to flee the scene.
“What were you trying to say earlier, (Y/N)?” Neville had finally asked, glancing at you as he bumped into another student again, you shook your head, choosing not to speak up about your emotions in a time like this, “I’ll tell you once this thing is over, just promise me you’ll stay alive” You said back, giving him a smile which he mirrored, understanding what you meant.
“Ginny! Neville! (Y/N)!  Are you alright?” Harry’s voice soon rang in your ears, watching how Harry took the lass by his side and looked at the both of you with expectancy. You gave him a mere nod while the other spoke up, “Never better! I feel like I could spit fire! You haven’t seen Luna, have you?”
Harry looked at him confused, “Luna?” “I’m mad for her! ‘Think it’s about time I told her since we’d probably both be dead by dawn!” Neville exclaimed, giving you a small pat on the back as he ran up the stairs.
You suddenly felt your airway constrict more as you violently coughed, hunching over as a bunch of petals escaped your mouth, a bit of your own blood trailing down your mouth as you looked at Ginny who was talking with Harry. Despite the painful ringing in your ear and your ragged breath, you shouted at the both of them, “I’ll go this way! Be safe, the both of you!” before running off into the distance, fighting your way through the crowd.
You didn’t know where your feet would take you as you ran until you reached a deserted hallway, making you finally collapse on the floor as you spat out buds of the beautiful carnation and even the flower in its full form. 
With a shaky hand, you grasp onto in, heaving in your last breath before blacking out. 
---
When you woke up next, you heard a voice quietly sing albeit the hoarseness present in it, you found the sense of familiarity in every word, 
“Flower, gleam and glow Let your power shine Make the clock reverse Bring back what once was mine”
The song was cut off by a sob, causing you to stir as your vision was invaded by the bright light, looking down at what seems to be a distraught Neville. “H-Hey.” You managed to croak, wincing at the pain it caused you. 
He looked up at you with bloodshot eyes, “Why didn’t you tell me, (Y/N)? Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, crying harder as you brought your hand up to wipe his tears, silencing his sobs as you sang for one last time, 
“Heal what has been hurt Change the Fate's design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine”
Tears of your own spilled as you realized that you have finally reached your end, that with every inhale that you took the exhales got shorter. You weakly cupped his cheek, smiling softly. “I didn’t want you to worry so much, seeing you happy was enough for me.” You explained, eyes exploring the ruins of the Great Hall for one last time.
“Because I’d rather die knowing that I loved someone as great as you, Neville. I’m sorry.” your answer cut off by coughing up the final camellia that escaped your system, giving it to him as you softly sang before drifting off, the cries of what once was your first love floating away.
“What once… was mine.”
---
TAGS: @theweasleyslut​ @violetravens​ @eunoia-kth​ @starlightweasley​ @minty-malfoy​ @glimmering-darling-dolly​ @slytherinsunrise​ @loony-loopy-lupinn​ @dogweedanddeathcaps​ @pastanest​
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forthechubbies · 4 years ago
Text
Mrs. Jeon Vol 3
Synopsis• One nightstand gone Marriage!? The past catches up with Yn when her head over heels husband finds his lost bride and will keep her by any means necessary.
Category's•Violent Thoughts, Hostel Behavior, Nsfw (Later), and Bratty Jungkook.
Duos• Yandere! Jungkook x Chubby! Reader
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Vol 1, 2, 3, 4,
What’s going on down there? It sounds restlessly calm. You could hear muffled voices but nothing more; you aren't too keen on testing your luck and sneak into the corridor to eavesdrop on their conversation. Pretty sure the door is locked anyway.
Instead, You took note of the confined walls surrounding you. A typical master bedroom accessorized an earthy decor, cute mini-plants placed in various room areas, two tiny pet turtles in a tank constructed into a giant wooden bookshelf.
Speaking of books, talk about books galore. The shelved books had little to no wiggle room aside from the one empty slot belonging to the open novel on the nightstand. The owner won’t mind you partaking in one quick gander-
“Ah!” You gasp, fixing your eyes on your newly treated ankle. For a minute, you just about forgot this crazy abducted situation your in. The bedsprings dip as you flop back into the spot where Jimin left you. Jimin was the man you fell on during your first attempt at freedom; he was even generous enough to bandage with utmost care.
A kind gesture a particular bunny wasn’t too thrilled on seeing, Jungkook's face soured while watching Jimin’s filthy little womanizing hands caressing the delicate soft plushy skin of his carrot’s legs.
Son of a bitch trying to cop a feel on his wife, Jimin’s flirtatious persona, led him out to be a well-known heartthrob but often seen as a gigolo through certain people's point of view and, frankly, Jungkook's wife won't be a victim of the Jimin Effect.
Crash!
The smash of a glass object-making contact with the hard marble kitchen floor snatched Jimin’s and your attention giving it to the irritable bunny who’s psychotically enthusiastic about testing his progress in strength by snapping his hyung’s neck-
Oh, no, his carrot looks frightened-He shouldn't do such a brutal act of love with his wife nearby; her poor innocent heart might shatter. No violence...At least for the time being.
Next thing you know, Jungkook's face lightened up, and even when Jimin bit his head off for breaking one of Jin’s fancy dinnerware, his facial expression persisted undaunted. Jungkook kept a serene masquerade, but through closer observation, he clenched his jaw at Jimin’s hand on cradling the small of his wife’s back, guiding her into hiding in the upper part of the house for a reason unknown.
Jungkook let Jimin take you no-fuss included, Hence, Your encaged situation. For all, you know, The men were downstairs plotting a far-flung strategy to murder you making it look like a battle of defense.
Though, You were more occupied by another Crack for the floor down below. ” Ahh!” You cried out, falling back on the bed once again.
Meanwhile, Downstairs.
”Stop! Breaking Hyung’s plates, or we're both as good as dead!” Jimin growled. ”Quit avoiding the question! Who the hell is that woman!? Did you hurt her!? Why-!” Jimin asked Jungkook until his cheeks burned a reddish hue, and his neck veins were dominant.
In one swift breath, Jungkook responded. “ She’s Mrs.Jeon. My wife.”
Jimin knew his maknae had a few loose screws in his head, but this is getting out of hand.
”Wife?! Do you know how old you are!? Kook, You just turn twenty-three-”
”So What.” Jungkook interrupted. ”You want me to wait until I’m an ancient fart like Hyung to get married.”
”Pffft.” Jimin pressed his lips into a thin line suppressing his need to laugh. ”Ahem, respect your elders-You little brat.”
Amidst the brothers at each other's throats, another member of the maknae line awakened from his mid-morning nap; drowsy eyed Kim Taehyung waddled upstairs to check up on his Hyung living in the room above him.
He could have sworn a faint scream is what he heard-Well; there's no harm in checking.
You jumped at the squeaky hinges of the door opening. Wait, it was unlocked!? Expecting the uninvited visitor to be Jungkook, You raised a pillow over your head, ready to be hurled-to your amazement; it was a completely different man.
A long-haired male with long chocolate locks kept at bay by a beige headband; his attire was disarray. His tank top hung off his shoulder, slightly creased in his pajama pant’s waistband.
Adorable, to say the least, the poor thing’s eyes weren’t even fully open yet, the pretty pink pout of his lips nearly forced an” Aw” from yours.
”Who are you?” He grumbled, scratching the back of his neck.
Sweet mother of deep, He stood a few feet away, but the raspiness and depth of his voice caused your insides to start quivering.
”I’m-I’m the sand fairy.” You choked out, fluttering the tips of your fingers as if spreading magic dust. ” I'm here to ensure all your dreams are sweet. ”
You nibbled your lip nervously, hoping he takes the bait. He yawned in response dragging his exhausted body across the room to you; he halts. You gulped, staring up at him; you felt like a mouse about to pounce on by a tiger.
”H-H-I!” You yelped.
The man took no real investment in your fib; instead, he decided to reap the benefits of how soft and plushy you are by laying his head on your bare thighs. He wiggled in place to reach maximum comfort.
”Ah.” He moaned, falling back to sleep.
Oh, dear.
………
The sound of the hyung’s arrival made the two maknae gulp.
First in the door was Hoseok, hands full grocery bags ” Come help! Quick, save the ice cream if it isn't soup by now.”
Namjoon followed behind. ” I told Jin not to get the ice cream first-He knows how he gets with his coupons.”
”The worst part is he got upset when we told him that's enough food then told to stay in the car.” Yoongi stretched out the pins and needles feeling in his limbs.
”You may say that's enough now, but when that brat comes, he's going to eat us out of house and home!” Jin scolded, unconsciously fetching the rest of the bags.
Jin froze, staring at Jungkook, helping put the food in the correct places. He didn't hesitate to smother his baby boy in a hug, but right after, he jabbed Jungkook's gut.
”Oof!” Jungkook doubled over, gripping his chest. ” I missed you too,” He coughed.
Jin stood tall. ” And there's plenty more where that came from once Hoseok gets his hands on you.”
Anyone but Hoseok.
” I heard Jk!” Hoseok rushed Jungkook a bear hug. ” Thank goodness you're alright!” He jabbed in his Jungkook's gut. ” Where the hell have you been?!”
Jungkook groaned. ” Ou-Ouch..I won't be able to tell you if I keep getting hit.” He cleared his throat. ”America.”
”America!” The hyungs blared out.
Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose. ” What possessed you to go there on your own? Have you forgotten what you are?”
Jungkook sighed. “ I know, I know, but I just envy normal people around my age having the freedom to go wherever they want.”
“ But you’re not," Yoongi brutally minced Jungkook’s sob story. He’s not particularly fond of beating around the bush, especially when dealing with his brothers earlier this afternoon. “ Unlike ‘normal’ twenty-year-olds, you are adored by army who would be upset if anything happened to you.”
Jungkook bowed his head in shame; the thought of army never really crossed his mind.
“And-“ Yoongi continued. “ There are crazies in every country, so what made you think heading off on your own would be alright!?”
“Why America?” Namjoon’s brow jumped as the gears in his head began to turn. “ Out of all the beautiful places we visited-You chose the U.S? What was there that you had to leave without an explanation?”
Namjoon stared at Jungkook’s eyes not in a malicious sense, just a habit when trying to figure out a solution or, in this case, a missing clue to the reason his little brother hopped up and left.
“Twinkats (Twinkies),” Jimin laughed nervously. “ I bet his suitcase is full of them.”
Sadly, Jimin’s fairy charm wouldn’t work this time. Jungkook is drowning in deep waters, and there’s no salvage coming for miles; at this rate, Jungkook had two options: tell the truth, orrrr, run away with his loving wife in his arms.
Not gonna lie; Jungkook leaned towards the second option, but the fates had another plan.
”Hyung! Hyung! Namjoon-Hyungie!!” Taehyung screamed bloody murder, sprinting downstairs minus jumping the last five steps. ” Her ankle is purple!”
Taehyung paused, breathing heavily in front of the kitchen where the interrogation is being held, accompanied by a woman injured cradled in his arms, more worried about him dropping than her throbbing ankle.
Taehyung had the room’s undivided attention, and Jungkook’s enviousness scowl; his wife was clinging on to another man like a baby koala to its mother but had it been him, she would scratch his eyes out.
Let's not mention the fact! It seems like she's only wearing a shirt, and guess who the owner is, not him!
” Who-”
”What-”
”Why”
” How!?”
Before getting into details about the hyung's reaction to their new houseguest, let's first take a detour to Prince Taehyung mini rescue adventure.
A good hour in, Taehyung woke up from the best nap of his life to beautiful damsel sniffles and tears. The sweetheart asked what was wrong and nodded as the damsel explained, coming to realize she was in distress. Prince Taehyung aided the beauty with new clothes and tied a red ribbon into her hair….beacause he thought it would look pretty (Shrugs).
However, her ankle injury required a different source of help, so who else to ask but his favorite Hyung? But he couldn't find Yoongi in his room, so he decided to ask Namjoon instead.
Back to the original story
Taehyung explains the truth unconsciously, throwing his little brother under the bus.
Jin’s eye twitched as he peered at Jungkook, who was attempting to slip out of the kitchen. ” You little sh-!”
Let's just say Jin didn't nearly beat Jungkook almost half to death with a rice paddle while shouting numerous insults to bruise a thousand men’s pride in a second.
It went silent after Jin banished Jungkook to the beach house a few feet from the house until he wanted to see his face again. Namjoon took it upon himself to introduce the gang.
You politely shared a warm hello but wished nothing more to go home.
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peach-the-owl · 4 years ago
Note
I think I something you might going to like. 84 but with a twist. Reader is a sorcerer and a friend of Vox Machina, the last time they seen them was battle Mind Flayer thus sacrificed themselves to froze the gate to other dimensions and stop Mind Flayer. Only see Vox Machina one final look before froze themselves. Not until Mighty Nein broke the frozen sorcerer. Only hear familiar voices, once they open their eyes they realize it's not Vox Machina, but the group who saved them.
Kinda like Avatar The Last Airbender when Aang frozen in time. Hope this is too much for you.
Some friendships transcend lifetimes… I love The Last Airbender it’s such a good show, and I’ve defiantly watched it over a dozen times, but anyways onto the story
I know I’ve called stories long before but like I thing this one takes the cake so far… here’s hoping it’s a good one
Lost Time
Vox Machina/Mighty Nein & Sorcerer!Reader (Platonic)
84- Who are you?
Spells flew left and right as you and the rest of Vox Machina faced off against a rather troublesome Mind Flayer, your ultimate goal was to destroy the gateway this aberration had opened and stop any beasts from coming through from other dimensions. Having silver dragon blood running through your veins meant you specialized in ice magic, being able to freeze just about anything with enough time and effort put in. With the rest of the team keeping the Mind Flayer distracted while you tried to use your magic to freeze and shatter the gateway, but the problem was this gate was enormous. The Mind Flayer had caught on to what was happening and attacks you causing you to lose concentration on your task, thankfully you’d managed to deal enough damage to shatter the base of the gateway causing it to crumble to the ground, falling on the Mind Flayer effectively killing it. For a moment it looked like you’d won but as the dust settled some you see the portal was still open and extremely unstable, energy crackling every which way the cavern starting to collapse around you.
"We can’t stay here the whole place is coming down on top of us." Percy calls for a retreat.
"It didn’t close, we broke it but it didn’t close!" Grog shouts still in a rage. You look over at all of them then over at the portal, you knew what had to be done so with a shaky breath you start towards the broken gateway.
"(Y/n) what are you doing? We need to leave!" Vax calls for you with a panicked tone.
"If I don’t seal this thing, it could mean more trouble then even we could handle." You continue forward against the groups protests getting close enough in range to start using your magic to freeze the opening before anymore energy can release itself. The room grew drastically colder, frost appearing along the walls as you pushed yourself past your limits.
"We can’t just leave you here!" Pike cries.
"You have to, if you don’t you’ll be buried here as well!" You yell, urging them to go without you.
"But-"
"Just go!" You scream at them, by now you could feel the cold of your magic effecting your own body. With looks of sorrow you watch as they all make their way to the exit, Keyleth looks back and calls your name one more time before being dragged off by the others. "It'll be okay." You whisper to yourself, a single tear sliding down your cheek as the gateway lets loose a pulse of energy and you unleash all your magic at once to conceal it, making your vision go white…
Everything felt cold, shadows were moved around in front of you. Were you dead? You thought you might be but then you start hearing faint voices, albeit muffled hit your ears.
"… see that?" It kinda sounded like Vex but you don’t remember her having such a high pitched, bubbly voice.
"It… dangerous." That sounded like Keyleth except much deeper and gravely.
"Wait, I think… in there." Since when did Grog become so soft spoken and educated?
"Maybe… use fire… see what’s inside." You defiantly don’t remember Scanlan sounding so shrill before.
"… not a… perhaps… could be dead." Now when did Vax get such an odd accent?
"… they're alive. We need…" Percy also sounded much calmer and relaxed then you were used to. What was going on, and why did everyone sound so different? A glowing light shines through bringing a warm feeling with it, there’s a cracking sound followed by shattering as you fall to the ground, you figured Pike must’ve used some sorta healing or restoration spell to free you. After a slight pause you gasp in actual air for the first time in you weren’t sure how long, and look up at the people in front of you. Your vision was still a little blurry trying to adjust to your surroundings and for a brief moment you thought you were staring at your friends, but when you rub your eyes to clear them you see before you a group of complete strangers making you jump back in surprise.
"Who are you?" Your voice comes out chattering both from fear and from the cold that still lingered in your body.
"Could ask you the same question." The woman who looked to be a monk shoots back.
"Well I asked first." You rebuttal attempting to stand, your legs were still shaky causing you to trip only to be caught by the firbolg on one arm and the tiefling on the other.
"Hi! I’m Jester!" The tiefling says cheerfully, holding her hand out for you to shake.
"Uhh… pleasure to meet you." You greet slowly accepting the hand shake, you then look to your other side at the firbolg.
"Hi, I’m Caduceus, how are you?" He introduces himself.
"I’m doing quite alright, thank you." You then look to the others in the group.
"Hi I’m Nott, just Nott." The goblin gives an awkward little wave, you wave back.
"Name's Fjord." There was a minor shift in his voice that made him sound more western, but only for a moment. You just nod your head in acknowledgment.
"My name's Caleb Widogast." The red head says rather stiffly, you could easily tell he was a wizard due to the large spell book stripped to his persons.
"Beauregard." The monk woman simply says.
"It’s very nice to meet you all. My name's (y/n)." You finally introduce yourself, now feeling a little more comfortable around them. "You have my thanks for freeing me of my icy prison."
"How did you end up in there anyways?" Jester asks. You explain to them everything you could clearly recall from your adventure before somehow placing yourself into some kind of frozen stasis.
"You know, now that I’ve had a better look…" You trail off slightly, taking in your surroundings once more. "This looks nothing like the cavern I sealed myself in. Where exactly are we?"
"You're in the Happy Fun Ball!" Jester happily states, you give her a confused look.
"That’s only a nickname." Caleb quickly jumps in, giving you a quick explanation of the object you were inside.
"How strange, maybe the last pulse of energy from the gateway sent me here along with most of the ruins." You look over at the broken and thankfully inactive gate that was in shambles, defiantly no way to activate that thing anymore.
"So if I may ask, why go through the trouble of coming here a second time? I mean, you know how dangerous it was the first." You question.
"Well we're looking for someone, that wasn’t you, and hopefully find a way to stop this cult for something called the Angel of Irons." Fjord gave an explanation this time. You let out a large sigh, this was a lot of new information to take in such a short time.
"That’s interesting." You say absentmindedly, still taking in this new situation you were suddenly in. You shake your head a bit and look to the group. "Well, if you need any help I'll happily oblige, it’s the least I could do for freeing me."
"Why that’s very generous of you, honestly we could probably use all the help we can get." Caduceus gives you a kind smile.
"Of course, just tell me everything I need to know about your situation." With that they all started to explain everything that’s been happening, it being a little hard to follow along sometimes with them talking over each other but you get the picture eventually. "So your friend, Yasha right? She’s under this Obann's control and they also have a creature called the Laughing Hand at their disposal. Now your here looking for the wizard Yussa because he’s been missing in here for 3 weeks and time is really strange here too, did I get all that?" You question.
"That’s the basics of it." Nott says with nod.
"Looks like we got our work cut out for us. Especially with the strange time here." You place a finger under your chin in slight thought, you had a lot of questions running through your head but had to put them aside for now, there were more pressing matters to deal with first. Finally having regained enough strength to stand on your own you set off with this new group of adventurers…
Taking down the Permaheart had been no easy feat but with Beau downing it and yours and Caleb’s combined spells it was finally reduced to frozen ashes and you’d finally located Yussa, amongst other things that happened and were ready to leave this place once and for all. Throughout all this, as helpful as you were you could tell this group still didn’t fully trust you, whispering amongst each other and defiantly not telling you everything. Who were you to blame them though, they were as much of strangers to you as you were to them, even if they did save you, so you figured it best to just keep a slight distance when they talked quietly with each other, and if you were being honest you were exhausted. Having been frozen for who knows how long didn’t cancel out the effect of having used a lot of magic, plus the magic you used to help fight off the creatures and creations that lurked in this sphere. You located the exit and the second you all arrived inside of Yussa's tower you fell to your knees panting.
"Whoa, hey are you alright?" Fjord comes over to you and helps support your weight so you could still stand.
"Sorry, I’m just a little tired is all, I suppose after everything I still haven’t fully recovered from my icy sleep." As if to exaggerate your point you let out a yawn and start leaning your full weight into the half-orc.
"Do you think it would be alright if we left (y/n) here for the time being." Caleb asks Yussa who in turn looks over at your exhausted form.
"I juss need some proper rest, I’ll be out of yer hair and rejoin with them once I dooo." You slur through your words slightly.
"Very well." He says with a soft sigh, then turns to his assistant to get a room prepared for you. When your brought in you immediately collapse on the little makeshift bed and pass out, getting some much needed rest. You awaken feeling much more refreshed and walk your way up the tower to where you hoped to find Yussa, when you enter the room you see the mage as well as the Mighty Nein and a very familiar face who stared back at you with as much of a shocked look as your own.
"Allura?" You ask almost nervously, she looked much older then when you’d last seen her. You see her eyes gloss over a little as she holds back tears.
"(Y/n)?" There’s a slight silence that fills the room before the two of you embrace each other. "I was told you sacrificed yourself to save our everyone, we all thought you were dead!" Allura practically cries, breaking away from the formal appearance she’d put on in front of everyone until now.
"I thought I was as good as dead too, but these folks here saved me, pulled me out of my frozen tomb." You say gesturing towards the Nein.
"Wait wait wait, you two know each other?" Nott looks between the two of you confused.
"Of course we do, we're friends." You simply reply.
"You haven’t changed a bit." Allura says looking you over.
"And you…" You pause slightly. "You’ve certainly gotten wiser." Allura just gives you a look that says "yes, I know I’m old". After your little reunion you refocus your attention on the task at hand, collecting information on this Angel of Irons and learning that it was in fact the Chained Oblivion, Tharizdun. You listen intently to everything being said to get a better understanding of what was going on and the more you learned the more serious and dangerous the situation grew.
"I believe it best I return to Tal'Dorei and inform the council, will you be joining me?" Allura looks over to you for confirmation.
"As much as I’d love to go home, I promised these fine people I’d help them. It’s the least I could do for what they’ve done for me." You give your friend a smile, she returns it with a worried look then sighs and nods.
"Alright, just please be careful and don’t disappear again, I don’t know how I’d handle the knowledge of seeing you alive only to learn you’ve really died this time." She places a firm yet gently grip on your shoulders, you place your hands on top of hers and give them a reassuring squeeze.
"I can’t make any big promises here but I’ll do my best. Until then it may be best if you keep my status a secret to everyone, alright? You’ll even be the first person I visit once this is all over." You look her in the eyes and slowly release your grip, once again she nods as she slowly moves her hands back to her side and teleports out of the tower.
"Aww man, I wanted to know who was on this council she mentioned." Nott looks down disappointed.
"Me too." Jester pouts. "Unless you know!" The two of them give you expectant looks making you take a step away from them.
"I can’t say I’d know for sure, a lot is different now then what I remember." You hold up your hands in defence.
After getting everything sorted out, you left Yussa's tower thinking as long as you stay with this group you should be fine. Then they split up, the girls in one direction and the boys in the other which threw you for a loop but you were able to sort yourself out and enjoy a more casual rest of the day getting to better know some of the others. The following days weren’t as you’d expect however especially when you were shopping around a little shop know as the Invulnerable Vagrant, it was no Gilmore's Glorious Goods but it still nice and you had to admit the shopkeeper, Pumat, was a charming firbolg in his own right. What was really unexpected though was the surprise attack by the Inevitable End, dealing with them was tricky when they could phase through the floor but you managed to drive them off and check in on what was happening with Yasha. Your next stop was a visit with a sorta mafia? You were really starting to question the group's moral compass, sure you have done crazy things in the past too but the Nein seemed to find a way to make things even weirder, you decided to stay out of most of it when they told you the only way to get in was to share your blood. Meeting up the next day you made your way back to Pumat's shop, being both shocked a relieved when he decided to join and help the party on this fast approaching mission…
Never in your life had you thought that the steps to a cathedral of Pelor would feel so menacing and filled with unease and yet here you were. The battle was intense, rifts opening and bringing forth creatures of the abyss, Yasha and the Laughing Hand were proving to be tough opponents and everything seemed to be going downhill. With sights set on the mind-controlled barbarian you weighed your options, you couldnt be reckless with your spells seeing as Beau had fallen unconscious so an AoE spell might end up killing her, you settle for using a Ray of Frost spell seeing as your silver dragon blood made it stronger. It works, distracting Yasha away from Beau and giving Caduceus the opportunity to dispel the control over her and spare Beau from deaths grip. With that taken care of you switch your focus to an oddly familiar situation, going to close the rifts and stopping the creatures coming through, however this time it wasn’t a large gateway at least. You were very focused on your task you didn’t notice Obann escape to the deeper chambers of the cathedral until you heard one of the Nein call to you.
"Obann's escaping we need to move!" Caleb calls, you look back and forth between them and the creatures still coming through a few of the remaining rifts, Pumat was still dealing with the the creatures as well and by the looks of things, despite his word of reassurance, he was already having a difficult time.
"You go on ahead, I’ll stay back here and help fend these creatures off!" You call back.
"Are you-"
"Just go!" You shout at them feeling a strong sense of déjà vu. You shake off the feelings, this wasn’t going to end like last time. The Nein disappear after the devil and with Pumat to aid you the two of you worked to close the few rifts and finish off the remaining cultists and creatures. It had been a long and strenuous battle but you’d done it and you were still alive, you rest yourself against one of the supporting pillars to catch your breath. After a long pause that feels like hours had passed, you feel a feathery touch against your shoulder, looking over at Caduceus who uses a quick Cure Wounds on you, Fjord also makes his way over.
"We want to thank you for everything, we may not have managed as well as we had if not for you." Fjord thanks, handing you a healing potion.
"I suppose that makes us even then." You comment with a cheeky smile happily accepting the potion and putting it to use right away.
"You know, I feel we could really use someone like you on the team, if you’re interested that is." Caduceus offers.
"I appreciate the offer, and though in reality it has been a long time since my last adventure, it still feels like it was only a short time ago to me. I really miss home, and am in dire need for a break, but if you do ever require my assistance in the future I will happily lend my aid to you again. For now I just wish to go home and familiarize myself with the changes that've taken place." You decline the offer as politely as you can, he gives you a nod of understanding. With that you get up, bid them farewell and exit the cathedral, making your way towards an area that’s out of the way before getting to work on a Teleportation Circle, as you're setting it up you think back to your time with this crazy group of adventurers, and while it was short they still made you feel welcome in their own strange ways. In some ways they reminded you of your time with Vox Machina, perhaps that’s why you were able to work with them and come to form a trust with them as quickly as you did, who knew. You finish the last symbol for your spell and the portal opens to the familiar view from inside Allura's tower, it was time to go home so with a deep breath you step through the portal.
Bonus (2 for 1 story):
Reunion
"Are you alright? You're looking quite nervous." Allura asks with slight worry as you walk through the halls of Greyskull Keep.
"I haven’t been home in so long and so much has changed, I just don’t know what to expect or how they’ll react." You admit. She places a hand on your shoulder and gives you a reassuring smile.
"Trust me I don’t think they’ll be expecting this either." You walk up to a set of large double doors.
"And from everything you told me…" You trail off a bit.
"There’s more I missed, but I’m sure they’ll be more then happy to fill you in."
"Okay…" You take a breath and reach for the knob only to pause again. "Why don’t you go in first, and I’ll follow your lead." Allura just gives a soft chuckle and nod before opening the door and heading in. You step back and try to catch your breath wondering why you still felt so nervous. You had to wonder if this was even worth it, a lot had happened and changed since you’d been gone and there was a lingering doubt that your friends might not even care anymore.
"Come in and say hello." You hear Allura's voice muffled through the door. Moment of truth, you steel your nerves and make your way through the door. When you enter you have a look around the room seeing all eyes on you, at first their expressions were blank or shocked so you decide to lighten the mood and give a small smile.
"Hello everyone, it’s been awhile." You say in almost a whisper, already feeling the tears well up in your eyes. The next thing you know your tackled into a hug by a sobbing Keyleth.
"You’re not dead! You’re not dead!" Is all you hear her say through her sobbing. You now return the hug having been able to stabilize yourself and comfort the Archdruid.
"I missed you too Kiki. I’ve missed all of you." You release one arm from her seeing as she wasn't going to let go of you just yet, and feel a slight pressure rest on your shoulder once you do. Craning your neck over you see a raven perched itself on you, you raise your hand and give him a little scratch under his beak as he leans into the touch. You look to the others seeing Vex approach.
"My word darling, you haven’t aged a day since we last saw you. What’s your secret?" She tries to add some minor humour to the situation but you could tell she was holding back some tears, being just as overjoyed as Keyleth.
"Just freeze yourself for a good 20 years or so and it’ll shave off those wrinkles in no time." You lightly chuckle, using your free arm now to offer her a hug. She accepts giving a much shorter side hug to you while the others finally came to their senses and start bombarding you with questions. You do the best you can to answer all of them as well as properly greeting everyone again and exchanging welcoming hugs from them, being lifted off the ground when Grog brought you into an almost bone crushing grip. "As much as I missed you too, I’m still fragile." You wheeze at the goliath.
"Sorry, sorry. It's just been so long." He says, trying and failing to hold back his emotions.
"Right, which reminds me, you must have stories to tell me. I’d love to hear what you’ve all done over the years."
"Oh man, where do we begin? There’s so much to tell." Pike ponders aloud.
"How about we start with what happened after my… departure." You suggest, ready for the day to be filled with stories of their adventures and exploits.
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