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lucifers-horror-harem · 3 years

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Alan Sharpe Yandere Alphabet (Slasher OC)

So I am aware I don’t even have an official character sheet or background information on this new yandere slasher of mine, however I find that some of these bits come to me in time. Plus, a bunch of small tidbits are in this alphabet post too. But I am always happy to answer asks about this boy cause it helps me get to know him a bit better too <3

The face claim is Kim Coates <3 I imagine Alan to be mid fifties in age.

Warnings for non con/dub con elements, uses of housewife/wife/kids/implied AFAB

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Alan is really emotionally and physically affectionate with his darling once he is certain they will accept it. He can be rather cold with someone who’s feisty or ungrateful and doesn't appreciate his love. He tends to go overboard spoiling his darling with material items and such, as money is no object for him. If he thinks something will make you happy he will do whatever it takes to get it for you.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

He will take care of whatever stands in the way between you and him. Ultimately he doesn't want to have to kill family or friends, but if they pose a threat to either of you or happen to find out his secrets they will have to go. Alan has people to take care of these things for him, but if they are a significant other or other love interest that makes him see red, he will take care of the matter himself. Violence and murder aren't new to him, when he was in his teens and early twenties he had a track record of hanging in the wrong crowds and going after anyone that stood in the way of his interests.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

If it were up to Alan, he would prefer to be sweet with you and as soon as he abducts you the two of you start the honeymoon phase of your relationship. But if you’re causing problems and trying to escape, he’ll treat you accordingly. He has no issue being cruel with you, getting into your head and insisting no one will love you like he can and how stupid you would have to be to not see the cushy life ahead of you, if only you accept his love. He doesn't really think its that hard of a choice.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

He would rather not force you to do anything you don't want to. All Alan wants is for you to love him, after all. But if time goes on and you continue to fight him, he might take more drastic measures to prove just how much he wants you. If you are being more docile and submissive, he might push boundaries and grope you as a way of teasing, but he will likely be more willing to wait for you. He has needs, after all.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

In the beginning of the relationship, Alan keeps his deepest feelings close to his chest and only tells his darling of the inconsequential things in his life. He wants a housewife type of partner so he always seems to like venting to you about how rough of a day he had at the office taking care of things, and him wanting to hear the same about your day in return (not that you can even go anywhere during the day). After a long period of time and trust he will slowly start to talk about deeper things with you, really opening up about what he wants and desires in his life.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Alan hates it, but in a sick way he enjoys correcting your behavior. While he much prefers a more docile and sweet darling he will be more than happy finding a reason to take out his frustrations on the person who has been causing all these problems. If you were good, he wouldn't have to do this, you know.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Love is something serious to Alan, and gets infuriated seeing his darling wanting to escape or attempting and failing. He will punish them accordingly, and hopefully they will learn their lesson. However, if his darling likes to indulge in bratty behavior but is still quite submissive and only wants to play, then he will be quite accommodating. He can be playful when he wants to, he just needs to feel comfortable enough to let that side of him out.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

The worst would be when they finally realize how dedicated Alan is to having you be his. It could be watching him kill with his bare hands in front of you for the first time, snuffing out the life of someone you know (a lover or someone who just got too close to you for Alan's comfort), and watching the glee in Alan's face as he did it, all while insisting he was doing it to protect you. Another possible contender would be finding out just how long and thoroughly he had been stalking you, waiting until just the right moment to strike. Even building trust with you, playing the kind and caring boss that everyone loves before showing his darker possessive side to you when you finally figure out what's going on. Once kidnapped, he would even use your social media to trick your family and friends into believing the two of you were together in a happy relationship under the radar (if you happened to work for him) when in reality you were trapped in one of his many homes against your will.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Ultimately, Alan is looking for a partner to play out the parts of life that everyone his age for the most part already have. The wife, kids, happy family, the whole shebang. He wants a partner that will stay at home, even if they don't want to do housework he can hire someone for that. But he goes feral over the idea of coming home from a long day at the office and seeing his wife finishing dinner for him and the kids. He had far from the typical home life as a child and longs for the stability and normalcy of it.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Alan gets insanely jealous, but he tends to reserve his anger for those who intend to steal you away from him. If all things work out for Alan, he would want you by his side at all business outings, and in those situations he wouldn't mind the casual conversation of people commenting on your beauty and how lucky of a man he is. It makes him proud and he wants you to feel special as well. But as a man he knows the way they look at you with less innocent intentions, even if they would never act upon them. That's what makes Alan's blood boil. He would never lash out at you specifically unless you actively encouraged others to flirt with you in front of him. He will make them pay in one way or another.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

In public he is the perfect gentleman, having you place a hand on his inner arm as he walks around. He is also known to keep a hand on the small of your back or hip to keep you close to him. While he does worry about you slipping away from him, he is naturally just a very touchy man and likes to have you within arms reach constantly. Will often bring your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckles absent-mindedly as well.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

The most likely scenario of him finding a partner would be through his work, and while office romance is obviously not permitted because he’s the boss, it doesn’t stop him from being friendly. No one ever suspects him of anything because he is so kind and genuine with everyone. For his love, he would often give them the same treatment as everyone else with a bit of extra meaning behind his words. He would never directly ask them out, but he would be extra attentive and listening to you speak when you have conversations. People would probably call them a brown noser before even thinking that Alan had other motives in mind. He doesn’t give presents mostly because he doesn’t want to be seen as too forward, but if the opportunity arises he will pay for lunch or the coffee at the shop he just happened to bump into you at.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Absolutely. For the boss of an established business with many important clients, he is all around a genuine good boss to his employees. When he took the business over from his father after he suddenly passed, he made sure he did the opposite of what his father did when it came to treating his employees well. When people look at him they see a genuinely kindhearted man that they can’t believe isn’t married, as everyone else around his age typically is. He was married once though not many people know about it and he prefers to keep that and the majority of his past hidden away from prying minds.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

If he is in a good mood there will be a lot of torturous edging on his part. Alan has been known to favor tying up his partner and leaving them for hours until he comes back later to take care of them. He also loves spanking and impact play, knowing just how much you can handle before you cry, though if you’ve been bad he just might want to see you cry a little. If Alan is in a bad mood his punishments will be harsher, the bindings tighter, and will be fine seeing your tears pour freely as you beg for him to slow down.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

When he first kidnaps you he will take away almost everything, especially any sort of phone or internet for you to reach the outside world. He makes sure to have things for you to occupy yourself with and even your favorite hobbies and books. But if you continue to disobey, more of those things will be taken away from you. Once you start getting used to life with Alan, he will slowly give you more privileges as he trusts you with them.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Alan is much more patient with a willing partner, especially if they’re shy or inexperienced. He will bend over backward to slowly ease your way into the sexual things he wants from you, though sometimes he might cross your boundaries simply to see what happens. If you’ve been nothing but ungrateful to him, he will have a lot less patience and be more forceful with what he wants from you. He still cares about you though, and would rather not force you to be with him but if you give him no choice he just might.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

While the odds of leaving or escaping under his watch are very small, nevertheless he would be heartbroken and furious at you. How could you not understand what he was offering you? Who would pass up such a comfortable life? Most likely he will have you back with him shortly whether by himself or from his hired men, and your punishment will make you seriously consider escaping again. A part of him is terrified about police intervention, but it would take a lot for you to be able to get them or anyone on your side, and he would have the evidence disposed of quickly if that’s the road you chose. If you were to die, that would be another story. He would never be able to forgive himself, blaming himself for your death constantly whether it was his fault or not. Alan might be able to move on one day, but if his darling were to die it would only make him more cruel and cold when it came to the next person he set his sights on.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

The only time Alan might ever feel guilty would be years later after you were in love with him and had given him children, he might feel remorse for how he went about it, wondering if he could have seduced you normally. However those thoughts don’t last long, and he wouldn’t want to change the circumstances for the world.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Growing up as the son of a wealthy businessman and a high society woman, he has quite a bit of trauma. The majority was psychological abuse from his father constantly berating him for not being manly enough to take over the business, with Alan rebelling in every way he could just to make his father mad. His mother was rarely in the picture, as she did her own thing with her own people and rarely saw Alan. He was taken better care of by his nanny than either of his parents. The life he wants for himself is far removed from what he dealt with as a child.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

While he might feel bad for seeing his darling cry, he typically doesn’t feel bad seeing them upset. He knows this is an adjustment period for them, and eventually, they will calm down. If not, then he might see you as a spoiled brat who can’t think rationally.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Not sure if this is different, but he stalks his darling obsessively for a long period of time before kidnapping them. He uses all sorts of cameras and bugging equipment just to see you whenever he can’t be next to you. Alan needs to know everything about you for when you come to live with him and wants to make the transition as easy as possible.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

If his darling can find out anything about Alan’s past, it would be the closest thing they have to twist the metaphorical knife into his wounds. There are a lot of skeletons in his closet, some of them being things that were scrubbed from official records while others weren’t even found out. Be careful if you decide to go digging before he trusts you enough to tell you these things, he might have to hurt you horribly just for the breach of trust.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Definitely. While he emotionally manipulates them constantly into believing what he does is love, if push comes to shove he will physically harm his darling to make sure they don’t escape again. A broken arm or leg wouldn’t be unheard of with Alan, and one should be lucky if they get away with that little.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

To Alan, you are his entire world, a chance for him to start a family and have the normal life he always wanted. He would worship the ground you walk on, making sure you knew every second of every day how much he loved and cherished you, his savior. And if you don’t believe him, he will go to the ends of the earth and do whatever you ask within reason to prove to you just how much he loves you.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Alan might last at most a year simply watching his darling, especially if there is no competition from other partners. If someone else comes into the picture, Alan is quick to speed his plan along and kidnap you away before you can even grow attached to this person.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

While the sadistic part of him loves the idea of breaking his darling down, he ultimately wants them to accept him of their own free will. He might push and push until you bend under his will, but unless he is at his wit’s end he will do his best to keep you from completely breaking.

#slasher oc #yandere oc #alan sharpe #my ocs tag

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hotpinkrathian · 4 years

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The Chief's Secret

(Kyalin)

A small get together is being thrown at air temple island, its been a while since everyone's seen each other so they decided to have a group supper to catch up.

It wasn't until Lin removed her armor, out of pure habit that she realized her mistake.

"Uh, Beifong, what is that?" Korra asked, looking at a point next to her shoulder. Lin looked down at her chest, blushing.

"Its nothing, collateral damage is all." Korra leaned in closer, her hands on her hips, a smirk appearing on her face.

"Oh my Raava. I know what that is! Asami! Beifong's got a hickey!" Lin face palmed, urging Korra to keep her voice down. Asami ran over, her eyes widening at the sight.

"Korra you werent kidding." Asami said, her too looking closer.

"Stop it," Lin grunted, bending her armour back on, concealing it again.

"Well well well..." Korra smiled deviously, "looks like you owe us an explanation."

"I owe you nothing!" Lin spat, crossing her arms.

"Fine. I'll just ask your sister." Lins eyes widened in terror as Korra hollered for Su, who looked at them from across the way. Korra waved for her to come over and Lin almost sent her flying with a Boulder the size of the island.

"Whats up you guys? Lin," Su smiled with a dip of her head.

"Su, I have something to ask you..." Korra grinned evily and Lin looked away in embarrassment.

"Anything Korra."

"Where might Lin get a hickey?" Su turned to Lin, her eyes wide and filled with an unreasonable amount of excitement.

"Lin!" She gasped, "what is she talking about?"

"Its nothing," Lin replied in her best attempt at a casual voice.

"Its not nothing, spill the tea!" Asami chipped in. Before Lin could reply, Su bent her armor off her, revealing the bruise on its prominent place on her collarbone.

"Oh my God," Su said with a grin. "Lin!" She added in a high pitched tone, giving her sister a friendly swat.

"Its not a big deal. Just a one night thing." She lied. She knew it was much more than a one night thing. But it was her thing, she didn't need them tainting it.

"Is there more?" Su asked, looking Lin up and down.

"No! Stop with the ridiculous questions!"

"Oh there's definitely more," Korra said with confidence. Lin sighed in frustration, just when she didn't think things could get worse, Kya walked up beside Su.

"Whats going on here?" Kya said, her smirk telling Lin she already knew.

"Beifong's got a hickey," Korra replied.

"She won't say anything," Su added, narrowing her eyes.

"A hickey? Well Lin I had no idea that was your thing," Kya said with a wink. Lin gave her an angry glare, and Kya just stuck her tongue out in response.

"Its no one's business," she said again, knowing it wouldn't be enough to satisfy them.

"Look, Lin just tell us some details, maybe how he looked, his height, where he works, his name..." Asamis's attempt at... whatever that was failed miserably when Lin scoffed.

"Whoever it was, it looks like you two had a good time." Kya said, running her tongue over her lips.

"Oh we did," Lin said, deciding to change her course of action, "it was like nothing I've ever done before. It was so raw, neither of us expected it, and before you ask, Korra, I was indeed on top." Everyone's jaw dropped, but Lin only looked at Kya whos look of surprise changed to anger at Lin's lie. Kya loved to be topped, and thats usually how things went, but not last night. The waterbender was good at what she did, and she knew it, but Lin would never give her the satisfaction of saying so.

"Wow, I thought that only happened in my dreams," the Avatar replied, getting a nudge from Asami.

"Suppers ready!" Pemas voice called over the crowd.

"Good timing." Lin smirked as she left the crowd. She was well aware of Kya following her, the waterbender's footsteps heavy with anger. Lin took a seat, feeling Kya's hair rub against her arm.

"You are a cruel, cruel woman."

"Thanks, I try."

"If you want a repeat of last night I suggest you fix this."

"I told you not to leave one."

"I can't help it. Have you seen yourself naked?" With that Kya pulled her mouth from Lin's ear, flopping aggressively down next to her.

Dinner started in a sweet silence Lin managed to avoid and further questions about the bruise, coming up with a bullet wound just in case. But she was well aware of her sisters eyes staring at her from across the table, her pupils filled with questions. She was also well aware of Kya's hand stroking her thigh underneath the table. The waterbender rubbed it on the outside at first, then she went up, and on the inside. Currently, she gripped it, squeezing lightly as Lin tried to manage a conversation with Zhu-Li.

"So anyway I think if we were..." she trailed off, Kya's touch distracting her.

"Sorry can you give me a minute? I just need to run to the powder room." Zhu Li nodded and Lin stood up, more abruptly and pronounced than she had wanted, but she dipped her head quietly at the table before dismissing herself.

As expected, Kya followed her to the bathroom a couple minutes later, using their secret knock to let Lin know it was her.

"You are intolerable." Lin said when the door was closed.

"That was not what you said last night," Kya smirked, crossing her arms. Lin glared at her, promoting Kya to place her hands on Lin's shoulders, rubbing a thumb over the hickey.

"You can't possibly think its easy for me to see them standing out there, ogling you, wondering about your serial escapades, assuming its with, dare I say it, men." Kya elaborated, her smirk turning into a frown.

"I never said it was a guy."

"But people expect that, Lin thats just the way things are." Lin frowned.

"I'm sorry, but, I did get you riled up."

"And I got you back, so I'd say we're even."

"Not quite," Lin said, pulling Kya into a kiss. Kya giggled, wrapping her arms around Lin's neck.

"What compelled you to take your armor off? You wear it all the time and tonight you decided would be a good time to go without?" Kya chuckled.

"Its this island, it makes me want to remove layers."

"Its the island? Or someone on it?" Kya suggested, pulling herself to kiss behind Lin's ear.

"The island. You're not the only one I've undressed here for." Kya pulled away, swatting Lin on the chest.

"Really?"

"Sorry, sorry. You are the only one who currently makes me want to undress on this island."

"Better, but you need to work on your flirting."

"You thought my flirting was just fine on Saturday."

"Perfect. Now we better get back to that dinner, or Su is going to suspect something."

"Ugh. Fine." Lin opened the door, and Korra fell into the bathroom, Su and Asami standing behind her with wide eyes. Korra looked up to Lin from her spot on the floor.

"Oh hey Lin I didn't know anyone was in here." The avatar said weakly. Lin sighed , offering her hand to Korra who took it.

"Well?" Lin asked them.

"Ummm, just to clarify," Korra started, "I didn't get a whole lot of that conversation, what I did get was hot by the way, but you guys are... um.... banging it out right?" Kya looked to Lin, doing her best to hide her smile.

"Yes, Korra." Lin admitted.

"Ob let's go!" The avatar cheered, high fiving Asami.

"Lin," Su said, "why didn't you say anything?"

"Because of that," Lin replied, pointing to Korra who danced around a laughing Asami in her moment of glee.

"We were keeping it on the down low," Kya elaborated, "we planned on telling you guys soon, but its sensitive. Lin has a very reknown role in the city, and some people won't see her the same way if this type of thing were too.... come out." Su frowned, looking at Kya and then Lin.

"I understand," she said after a moment. "So I take it this is more than you two 'banging it out?'" Lin felt herself blush, and she turned to Kya who had a similar color to her cheeks.

"Yeah, its a little more than that." Kya replied, a smile spreading across her lips. She was looking directly at Lin, who smiled in return.

"Well, I'm happy for you, and Lin, please don't be a stranger. I know we've had our troubles, but you can tell me anything."

"Thank you Su," Lin replied, "do you mind keeping it on the down-low? At least until we tell Tenzin?"

"Of course, anything. But, those two might be harder to convince." Theh looked to Korra, who was still chanting around an exhausted Asami, Lin was glad that at least she had processed the news.

"Beifong's gotta girlfriend!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, our avatar," she said sarcastically. The three of them laughed, and Lin felt the hairs on her arms raise when Kya gripped her arm, running her hand down it briefly. They returned to the table, after swearing Korra to secrecy, enjoying the rest of the meal in a newfound peace. That didn't stop Kya from leaving soft touches every now and then on Lin's leg.

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Kya froze her hands to the headboard, she took the liberty of pulling off her top, leaving her breasts displayed in her white bra, and exposing her underside with only a simple lace thong to cover up. She heard a knock on the door, her excitement bubbling up.

"Come in," she said in the most sultry voice she could muster. The door opened, and instead of Lin's usual heart stopping beauty, a bald head, covered only with a blue arrow stepped in.

"Kya have you- Oh my Raava!" Tenzin said, covering his eyes.

"Tenzin!" Kya yelled, breaking her icy restraints and covering herself with a blanket. "Knock next time!"

"I did knock! Why did you tell me to come in?!"

"I thought you were someone else?"

"Who?" As if summoned by Vaatu herself, Lin came in through Kya's window.

"Sorry I'm late I got caught up- Tenzin?" Lin looked to Kya eitha panick and the waterbender shrugged, her face scrunched up in a cringe.

"Lin?" He asked in confusion. He looked to Lin, then to Kya, then back to Lin, a horrified look of realization on his face.

"Oh-oh my..." he said, his voice barely audible.

"You and Lin... you? Kya?" He stammered. Kya bit her lips together, shaking her head up and down. Tenzin placed a hand against the doorframe to stabilize himself and Lin's face went red with embarrassment.

"What are you doing?" Kya whispered while Tenzin was rebooting in the corner.

"I came in through the window because there were acolytes outside the dorms."

"Its cleaning day," Tenzin said from his spot by the door, "they stay up later to clean the dormitories."

"Tenzin," Kya spoke gently, "this has been great, but can Lin and I have some privacy?." Tenzin nodded, backing out of her room as if he hand seen the ghost of Kyoshi.

"What happened?" Lin asked.

"I thought he was you!"

"Weren't you listening for the knock?"

"I was distracted!" Kya protested, nodding toward the headboard which still had ice stuck to it. Lin put her palm to her face with a sigh.

"Well its out now." She groaned. Kya walked up to her, placing a hand under her jaw.

"Hey, maybe this is a good thing," Kya said. "Maybe this means we can take this thing a little further."

"Further than this?" Lin said sarcastically, looking at Kya's outfit, or lack thereof.

"Haha. I did this for you, remember."

"I'm sure under different circumstances I would appreciate it."

"Yes, well what I meant is, maybe its time we make this more than a couple dates, more than the sporadic sex, which I love, but why don't we I don't know.... be together? For real this time." Lin looked at her, and for a moment Kya thought she ruined it.

"Okay." Lin replied after a moment.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, I like you Kya. And I want more too. Starting with severing all ties to this island."

"Normally I'd disagree, but I'm so happy I'll do whatever you want right now." Lin raised an eyebrow, and Kya took the opportunity to wink.

"After we get to your place."

#lin beifong #team avatar #kyalin #legend of korra #avatar the last airbender #korrasami #asami sato #suyin

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charincharge · 4 years

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Cruel Summer, Part 14

cruel summer masterlist

AN: I wrote this chapter in the wrong POV first and then decided I had to rewrite it. I’m not in love with it, but it’s a smidge longer than a usual chapter. Sorry if it meanders. I tried to get to a point lol. We’re getting to a POINT, and Aelin and Rowan are just fighting me on getting there every step of the way. Sigh. Anywayyy, hope you enjoy this fluffy nonsense chapter.

Rowan drives up the Ashryver’s driveway and takes a deep breath. It’s been three full days since Rowan dropped the “E” word on Aelin and three whole days since they’ve seen each other alone. He’s relieved he didn’t scare her off with his exclusivity question, but he’s on edge for their day together.

Today, Aelin is taking Rowan to Ashryver Playland as her guest. Just the two of them, and Rowan can’t help but feel nervous. They’ll be together. Out in public. Just the two of them. Like a real date. Neither of them have acknowledged that it’s a date, but… that’s what it is.

He grabs his baseball hat and covers his hair before walking up the front steps and ringing the doorbell. Rhoe answers the door with a friendly smile and welcomes him in.

As they cross the foyer and make their way into the kitchen, Rowan can’t help but hear Aedion’s low voice ask – “Sam, who’s Sam?”

Rowan’s heart picks up pace as Evalin gushes in response. “Oh, Aelin. Have you been seeing Sam? “He’s so perfect for you,” she continues. “I was hoping there might be a spark there.”

“No, um—” Aelin interjects, but her Evalin bowls her over, continuing her praise for the boy next door. Rowan’s stomach sinks.

“He’s just so responsible and well-spoken, and so good looking,” Evalin rambles. “And what a story for your children! That you used to know each other in your youth and then reconnected twenty years later? And I think he’s going to be such a good influence on you. With him heading his father’s company, you could take the time to really decide what you want to do with your future. If you want to get involved with philanthropy, or write, or be a stay at home mother, or—”

Rhoe coughs as he leads Rowan into the kitchen, interrupting his rambling wife. “Look who I found outside.”

“Rowan!” Evalin throws him a wide smile. “What a lovely surprise. Aelin, you didn’t tell us Rowan was coming to the park with us today.”

Rowan ducks his head and sticks his hands into his shorts pockets, feeling uncomfortable. He looks around the kitchen. It’s a full house today. Lysandra and Aedion sit at the kitchen table, finishing their breakfast while Gavin and Evie throw a toy back and forth for Fleetfoot.

Aelin finishes her last sip of coffee and stands from the table. She looks effortlessly beautiful, per usual, Rowan can’t help but notice. Her loose tank top and cut offs display her tanned skin prominently, and her golden hair is up in its signature high ponytail.

“That’s because he’s not,” Aelin tells her mom. “I mean. We’re not coming with you. Rowan’s never been to the park as a patron before, and I wanted to give him a full Aelin-style day. Not going on all the kid rides. No offense.”

Aedion holds up his hands and nods. “No offense taken. Those rides are the worst.”

Rowan ducks his head bashfully, slightly horrified that Aelin is making him look bad in front of her family, who clearly already wants her together with Sam. “Aelin didn’t tell me you were going as a family. I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I didn’t mean to disrupt your plans…”

Evalin looks like she’s going to insist they join them when Rhoe closes his paper and looks up at Rowan. “Nonsense. You two have fun.”

Evalin looks meaningfully at Aelin. “Is Sam going to be joining you, too, Fireheart?”

“Mom! No,” Aelin groans, frustrated. “Leave it alone.” She throws an apologetic glance at Rowan, but he ignores it. He should have known her mom would be Team Sam.

Aedion breaks the tension, asking his sister if they’ll see them back at the house for fireworks.

We’ll see you back here for fireworks?”

“Fireworks?” Rowan asks.

“Ashryver Playland celebrates the Fourth on July 2nd, for some reason,” Aelin explains.

“Permits,” her mother says.

“Anyway,” Aelin continues. “Today the park sets off the most amazing fireworks over the water, and we happen to have a perfect view from our back patio.”

“Have fun,” Rhoe calls out as Aelin leads Rowan out the back door and onto the beach.

“Sorry about that,” Aelin apologizes once they’re out of sight. Rowan shrugs her off, but he can’t stop hearing Evalin’s excitement at the idea that Aelin could be dating Sam. It’s the last thing his inferiority complex needs. But he’s determined to have a good time today, so he shakes off the negativity and focuses completely on the gorgeous girl beside him. He grins when she slips her hand into his as they walk side-by-side.

At the ticket booth, Elide welcomes the two of them with an over the top smile. “Well, well, well. Rowan, I didn’t expect to see you on your day off. How ever did Aelin convince you of this?”

Rowan shrugs, not really sure what to say, but Aelin rolls her eyes. “Oh my gods, Elide, just tell him you know and be done with it.”

Rowan barks out a short laugh and can feel his cheeks heating as Elide gives him a wink. He thinks that’s a good sign? That Aelin has told another one of her friends, who isn’t Dorian. He hopes. Aelin smiles as she holds her wrist out for a wristband and motions for Rowan to do the same. “Have fun you two,” Elide calls after them as Aelin leads him into the park.

“What first?” Rowan asks, and Aelin drags him to the Firecoaster. Fenrys is taking tickets for the ride, and he grins when he sees Rowan and Aelin at the top of the line.

“Fen, can we sit in the front?” Aelin asks, bouncing on her toes. Fenrys nods and lets a group of people through, holding Aelin and Rowan back so they can be first onto the next car.

Rowan looks down at her and pauses. “Uhhh, we don’t have to do that.”

Aelin snorts. “Are you…scared?”

“I don’t love rollercoasters,” Rowan admits, and Fenrys laughs outright. “I’m too tall, and I feel like I’m going to topple out of the seat,” he says, rushed.

Aelin laughs and grabs his hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

“You better,” Rowan grumbles. “If I fall out, I’m taking you with me.”

Fenrys pouts. “You know, Aelin, I’m hurt. You’ve never taken me to the park.” Aelin ruffles his hair and pats his cheek.

“Maybe next year, champ.” She laughs. “You’re still not old enough to ride all the rides,” she teases him.

Fenrys sticks out his tongue. “Don’t know why you hang out with this one,” Fenrys tells Rowan. “She’s cruel.”

The next car comes to a stop in front of them, and Fenrys lets them on. Aelin eagerly leads Rowan to the front and slips in. Rowan awkwardly gets in after her, forcing himself into the cramped seat, his knees squishing against the front. His shorts ride up uncomfortably, and he tries to adjust them quickly.

“How are you comfortable?” he asks, looking at Aelin, who is beaming with excitement. ”I have a perma-wedgie just from trying to sit.”

“It helps that I’m not wearing panties,” Aelin says coolly, and Rowan bumps his knee hard against the top of the car.

“What?!”

As Rowan hisses in pain, Aelin breaks out into laughter, her cheeks flushing. She leans over and grabs his arm. “I’m kidding, but oh my gods, your face.”

Her eyes darken as she looks at him, and desire pools in Rowan’s stomach. She forces herself to look away, which is good because Rowan was tempted to say fuck it all and kiss her in broad daylight. Instead, he rests his hand on her knee and leans toward her.

“Fenrys was right. Cruel,” he says, his eyes boring holes into the side of her head.

Rowan barely has time to see her smiling reaction as the ride takes off. His stomach flips as they hit their first dip. He wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t love rollercoasters. Instead of panicking, he looks at Aelin, whose eyes are wide with glee as they round every turn and hit every dip. Her hair flies behind her, and her arms are up in the air. Rowan holds the bar in front of him tightly, and breathes deeply. When the ride finally stops, Aelin’s smile makes the ride worth it.

She grabs his hand and drags him to the next ride. He’d ride the rollercoaster a thousand times if it meant her hand in his in public again. They make a large circle, doing all of the “big” rides first – the log flume, the whip, the starship 2000. They pretend to race each other on the Derby Carousel, and it doesn’t take long for Rowan to see the appeal of coming to the park. Even his grouchy self has to admit the rides are fun. Though it’s mostly because he’s never seen Aelin this carefree or relaxed or unselfconscious. She’s casually touched him so many times he’s lost count, and each time he’s surprised.

“I’m starving,” Aelin says after they get off the Wyvern Flyers. “Lunch?”

Rowan’s stomach grumbles loudly, as if on cue. They head to the nearest snack bar and by chance end up behind Aedion and Lysandra. Rowan has barely met Aelin’s brother and sister-in-law, but they seem nice enough. He’d planned on buying Aelin lunch, but Aedion insists on buying whatever they want. Rowan tries to fight him on it, but Aedion is having none of it. The only payment he asks is for Aelin and Rowan to have lunch with them.

After they get their burgers and fries and sodas, the four of them make their way to the eating tent, out of the sun.

“So, what have you been up to this summer, Ae?” Aedion asks. “We’ve barely seen you.”

“Or should we ask who you’ve been up to?” Lysandra asks, a wicked grin on her face. She glances at Rowan, and Rowan conveniently takes a large bite of his burger.

Aedion lights up. “Oh, yeah. Tell us about this Sam character that mom was going on about.”

Rowan focuses intently on chewing and not reacting in the slightest. Aelin rolls her eyes at her brother. “Sam is our neighbor. If anything he’s a friend. Mom is just being mom.”

“Yeah, but friendship can evolve,” Aedion says. “Look at me and Lys.”

Lysandra sticks her middle finger up at her husband. “Leave me out of this. Don’t let anyone pressure you, Aelin.” She gives Aelin a meaningful look. “Date whoever you want.”

“Fuck that,” Aedion says with a laugh. “I’ll pressure you all I want. It’s my gods-given right as your older sibling. I’ll make the final call after meeting him for real. We’re all supposed to go to his family’s party this week.” Aedion looks to Rowan, finally. “What do you think of him, Rowan?”

“Sam?” Rowan asks, swallowing the rest of his bite. Aedion nods. Everyone looks at him expectantly. “He’s fine?”

Lysandra cackles loudly. “So he’s a jerk.”

“I said no such thing,” Rowan responds too fast, and Lysandra laughs again. Aelin joins in and pats his knee under the table.

Lysandra commandeers the conversation away from the boy nex tdoor, sensing Rowan’s discomfort. She notices his shirt and asks him about his time in the Army, which he gives a short summary of. He finds that talking about himself is easier in front of Lysandra. He doesn’t feel like he’s being judged on his low-income job, the way the rest of the Ashryver clan makes him feel. He asks Lysandra what she does, and she excitedly pulls out her phone to show Rowan her Instagram. Apparently she’s a Mommy Blogger with a lifestyle brand. He had no idea those people really existed. But the photos are beautiful. Their family looks perfect in each shot.

“Where’s the rest of our family, by the way?” Aelin finally asks as Rowan scrolls through their pictures.

“Mom and Dad are babysitting until fireworks,” Aedion explains, and Aelin’s eyebrows shoot up, surprised.

“How’d you manage that one?”

Aedion laughs. “We promised we’d have a sleepover at the house tonight in thanks.”

As they all throw their trash away, Aedion asks if he and Lysandra can join Rowan and Aelin on the rest of their rides for the afternoon. Lysandra tries to tell him that they shouldn’t impose on Aelin’s plans, but it’s clear from the glances between the siblings that they want to spend time with each other, and ultimately it’s Rowan who insists they join.

“Are you sure?” Aelin asks, and Rowan nods. It’s not exactly what he’d planned for their day, but he doesn’t want to be the one responsible for pulling Aelin away from her family. He doesn’t need to give them any other reasons to dislike him. He’s clearly already losing the popular race to Sam.

The rest of the day passes quickly. Rowan is happy to finally get to watch Aelin and her brother interact. They seem to love each other a lot, despite their large age gap. Rowan works overtime to make sure he isn’t touching Aelin in their presence, but she somehow can’t help herself. Each brush of her hand sends him into an aroused frenzy, and by the time they reach their final ride, Rowan feels like he’s going to burst with tension.

They approach the ferris wheel just as the sun is going down. Lysandra pulls her husband into a gondola and closes the door behind them. Aedion looks confused. Four can fit to a gondola.

“I want to make out with my husband, so you kids are going to have to take the next one,” Lysandra says with a wink. Aedion laughs and wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

“See you on the ground,” he says with a wave and leans in to kiss his wife. Rowan secretly sends a prayer of thanks to Lysandra for inadvertently giving him exactly what he wants.

Aelin and Rowan slip into the next gondola, and Aelin immediately curls up into Rowan’s side. He exhales with relief as he wraps his arm around her shoulders. As the gondola starts to rise, Aelin puts her chin on his chest.

“Thank you for today,” Aelin says sweetly, and he looks down at her big blue eyes.

“I should be thanking you,” he says. “I did absolutely nothing but use your family’s pass to get into the park.”

“That’s not all you did, and you know it.” Aelin moves her nose against his jaw, her lips ever so close to his neck, but not quite touching. “I know you hadn’t planned on hanging out with my brother. But it meant a lot to me.” She pauses. “I didn’t realize how much I missed him. We usually spend all summer together.”

“He’s pretty cool,” Rowan says. “And I don’t want to take over your summer,” he says, even though it’s a complete lie. “Feel free to tell me to fuck off whenever so you can see your family.”

Aelin bites her lip and adjusts herself to face Rowan more fully. He looks at her face in the blinking light of the amusement park, shaded in pinks and blues and greens. Gods she’s beautiful.

“I don’t want to talk about my family anymore,” Aelin says and leans in to capture Rowan’s lips with hers. It takes him by surprise, but he responds quickly, his mouth moving against hers slowly. He’s been starved for her touch all day, and he’s not going to let the opportunity pass him by. He’s grateful when their gondola comes to a stop, pausing at the top of the wheel. His fingers thread through her hair, and he can feel her smile against his mouth, kissing him with renewed fervor.

They break apart as the wheel continues going and makes its descent. Aelin quickly redoes her ponytail before her brother can see what a mess it’s become with Rowan’s hands in it. She can’t do anything about her swollen lips though, or her flushed cheeks. Rowan hopes Aedion and Lysandra aren’t paying that close attention to them, since they were doing their own canoodling.

By the time they arrive back at the Ashryver’s, the sun has completely gone down and the fireworks are about to start. Evie and Gavin are already showered and in their pajamas as they set up their little chairs on the edge of the patio to watch the show. Gavin waves excitedly at Rowan, and Rowan says hi to the little boy as Aelin disappears inside the house. She comes out with a hoodie and a towel and tells her family that she and Rowan are going to watch from the beach.

The beach is empty when they make their way down to the now-cold sand. Aelin spreads out the blanket and motions for Rowan to sit. He kicks off his shoes and sits next to her. Annoyed, Aelin fixes his legs, so he’s sprawled out enough for her to lean against him. He smiles as she leans into his chest, and he widens his legs so she can fit between them comfortably. They manage to watch about five minutes of the fireworks before Aelin turns around fully and kisses Rowan. He doesn’t even mind that he’s missing the fireworks, since Aelin’s lips are on his, and her arms are wrapped around his neck, and her thighs straddle his.

At the end of the show, Aelin pouts. “I’m sorry you can’t spend the night tonight, but all our rooms are occupied with Aedion and the kids here.”

“It’s fine,” Rowan shrugs, but he’s not anxious to let her go, either.

“You could drive your truck to the street and then come back and hang out for a little bit longer?” she suggests, and though Rowan feels guilty at the suggestion, he doesn’t fight her on it.

They make their way back to the patio, and Rowan wishes the Ashryvers a good night before following Aelin’s instructions and driving his truck down to the street and returning in the darkness to the back of the house.

He makes his way through the garden gate and to the rose lattice that winds its way up to Aelin’s room. He awkwardly pulls himself up, fearful for his life as his feet find their footholds in the wooden trellis. But sure enough, he’s able to make his way onto her balcony.

He pants loudly as Aelin lets him into her room with a soft giggle, and his eyes roam her half-naked body, which is already clad in a barely there nightgown.

Rowan groans. “Cruel. I can’t have sex with you while your family is across the hall,” he says with the utmost regret.

“You had no problem with my parents being upstairs before,” Aelin pouts. “And I haven’t been with you in so many days…” She grips his shirt and pulls him closer. He can’t think clearly with her this close. He tries to remember all the reasons he was supposed not to have sex with her tonight, but he can’t.

He hasn’t been inside Aelin since the last time he slept over at her house, which was almost a full week ago. He wants her, badly. It takes little convincing to get Rowan into her bed. They take their time, exploring each other with their hands and tongues, savoring each inch and making up for lost time. As he enters her, Aelin’s mouth widens into a silent scream, and they move together silently, making sure not to make a single sound, even as they fall of the precipice of pleasure.

Sweaty and exhausted, Rowan knows he needs to drive home before he falls asleep under her covers. He looks at the time. Nearly 2 am. And he has work tomorrow. He sadly extracts himself from her grasp and kisses her one last time.

“Don’t go,” she says.

“I have to,” he replies sadly. “But I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Satisfied, Aelin’s eyes finally close, and she mumbles out a goodnight, and Rowan stares at her for a second. He’s falling so hard. He’s never felt like this before. Like he doesn’t want to let her out of his sight. With a sad sigh, he turns to the balcony and makes his way into the night and back down the trellis to the garden. He hits the ground with a loud thud and looks around, praying no one heard him.

He smells the cigarette smoke just before he sees Lysandra’s green eyes widen in shock. She sits on the bench below Aelin’s balcony, smoking, in a thin robe, barely lit under the twinkle lights of the rose garden. Rowan freezes and runs his fingers through his hair, which he’s sure looks a mess.

“It’s… not what it looks like?” he says, and Lysandra cracks a wide smile at him and exhales her cigarette smoke.

“Sure, Romeo,” she quips. And Rowan’s stomach turns into a barrel of nerves as Lysandra looks him up and down. He wonders what she sees. “I won’t tell if you don’t,” she finally says, pointing to her cigarette.

“Deal,” Rowan says. As he drives home, he wonders how the hell he’s going to explain this one to Aelin. She was so adamant on not letting her family know. He really hopes Lysandra can keep a secret. Fuck.

~*~*~*~*~

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#rowaelin #aelin x rowan #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #rowaelin fanfic #cruel summer au #amusement park au #charincharge writes #tog fanfic #throne of glass

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sandalaris · 4 years

Note

SethKate for the 10 sentence meme?

one sentence per genre for a pairing

How can anyone do any of these with just one sentence?! At least I tried.... there’s a lot of run on sentences in this, btw, although after a few I just decided the one sentence rule could shove it and went with keeping each one short, and at least one I said screw it and made it pretty long for a one-sentence story.

1. Angst

A shadow self, that’s what Amaru called them, the ones she twisted and turned and brought forth from the other side, and logically Kate knows he had no choice, knows he did what he had to do to save Richie and her and the world, but logic has no hold in the face of screaming gaping wound in her chest that pulses and weeps grief and guilt when she looks at Seth’s face. It’s a cruel and ugly twist of fate, to still love the man who killed her brother.

A/N: A mild AU I will never write (but have thought about what would happen before) in which Amaru did her shadow-self thing on Scott and Seth is forced to kill him.

2. AU

There’s nothing wrong with the school itself, she decides, even if she does find some of its rules and traditions a bit odd. She wouldn’t even need to be here except Our Lady of Sorrow holds the only duel credit program with both an opening in Statistics and Intro to Psych that was willing to let Kate in given her... unusual circumstances (being homeschooled, a devout Baptist, and technically enrolled at a local public high school - a PE credit apparently requires a bit more than her daddy and the internet can provide - had her sure that even applying was a lost cause). She only has to spend half a day on campus and only one of her classes is even near the annex building so she hardly sees Seth (she refuses to call him “Mr. Gecko” on principle. She’s only somewhat a student here, and he is certainly not her teacher, even if he is a teacher.. she thinks).

She’s counting the weeks until the semester ends.

A/N: I would love to read this as a full fic... just not sure I want to write it, lol.

3. Crack

No. Nuh-uh. No way. Seth is not some pansy assed prince charming setting out on a quest or one of those glory seeking wannabe knights who graduate from the Fairytale Training Academy, and he’s certainly never wanted to be anyone’s goddamn hero, so little miss damsel in distress, who’s probably some secret lost princess because Seth’s read this tale before and he hated it the first time around, can save her sob story for some other guy because he is absolutely not-

“Please.”

...fuck.

A/N: A reluctant Seth who is entirely too aware of fairy tale tropes and trying everything he can not to be in a one? Way more amusing than it should be to me.

4. Future fic

Seth eyes the group of sparkly wrapped boxes sitting on the counter with distrust, part of him already counting their numbers and trying to figure out how many have his name on them. After last year, when Seth managed to sneak a peek at every single last gift and “ruined the surprise,” Kate had managed to hide every Christmas present so well he’d begun to wonder if she’d decided he didn’t get any this year.

He reaches for a small, shiny box, the tag just peeking out from the curly bow and revealing a “th” in a familiar loopy penmanship, when Kate suddenly hisses behind him.

“Don’t even think about it.”

A/N: “Future” makes me think domestic fic (at least in FDtD), and that’s not an area I’m real familiar with, so *waves hand* this is what you get. :P

5. First Time

Her hands are shaking. Not visibly, but enough to make her fingers feel weak and the gun in her grip far too dangerous.

“You ready?”

She doesn’t know if she’s imagining the doubt in Seth’s voice, regret bleeding through at agreeing for her to play a bigger role, but she nods firmly anyways, tightening her grip and stepping forward.

A/N: Kate’s first heist... although I doubt Seth let her use a gun the first time. Too dangerous in the hands of an amateur. And I’m pretty sure Seth kept Kate’s role as danger-free and background as he could, because she was still fighting so hard to be considered an equal partner at the beginning of S2.

6. Fluff

She’s just managed to settle into the perfect spot when the bed shifts slightly behind her and a familiar hand fumbles sleepily at her arm and over her stomach before finding the hollow dip of her waist. Kate lets out a half-hearted protest, bits of warmth escaping at the blanket slips down and the sheet bunching beneath her as Seth wastes no time tugging her across the mattress, the sound dying into a soft laugh as he tucks her half under him and grumbles wordlessly against her temple without even opening his eyes. She shifts, tugging the corner of the pillow down a bit so its not digging into her neck before letting out a happy sigh. Perfect.

7. Humor (I had a hard time with this one, so I just wrote something random)

Kate makes a noise of frustration, pushing herself from her chair and snapping, ��I’m gonna die a virgin. Again!”

“You know,” Richie says with far too much brotherly glee, “if you’re looking for someone to-”

“Shut up, Richard!”

8. Hurt/Comfort (another one where I didn’t exactly want to go full hurt/comfort, so instead I went Hurt? As in injury? Yeah, lets go with that.)

“Ohgodohgodohgod.” She can’t seem to stop the litany of words, repeated phrase cycling through her mind as she presses harder. There’s blood, so much blood, seeping red and too thick through her fingers that she can’t even feel the pain.

She should feel it, she thinks, she did before. Or maybe its better that she can’t, she doesn’t want a repeat of the well.

She takes another step, seeing the door just a few steps away. There are people beyond it, Seth and Richie’s people (Seth’s going to be so pissed, she thinks with a kind of worrying detachment.) It’s a simple goal: get to the door. Everything will be alright if she can just get to the door.

A/N: Kate is totally OK in this. It’s bad, but not as bad as she thinks, and while she doesn’t make it to the door before collapsing, someone comes through really quickly and sees her.

9. Smut Hand holding?

The leather is soft against his skin, well worn from years of near continuous use and Kate’s dedicated care. He remembers when she first got them, the fancy looking box with its folded tissue paper holding them inside like they were a gift. He had hated them, hated the way they covered Kate’s small, deadly hands, the way Dad expected for her to be grateful, how necessary they were.

He slides his hand up, pad of his thumb brushing over the expensive leather covering her palm before it presses against the soft, vulnerable skin of her inner wrist, and he swears for a moment her can feel the nervous flutter of her pulse before he curls his fingers to lock around her wrist.

She looks at him, an amused quirk of to the edge of her lips as he raises her hand between them and he meets her gaze, not bothering to measure the redness of her eyes as he reaches his free hand up to pinch the fabric just above her pinkie.

“What’re yo-” She cuts off with a choked gasp when he tugs, but doesn’t jerk back. He’s inexplicably proud of her for it.

Her eyes are wide and a little panicked, bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she watches him tug at the top of each finger, loosening the well-fitting glove until it sits loose on her small hand.

He takes in a shaky breath, feeling unaccountably nervous as he grips the empty tip of the glove’s middle finger, like he’s removing far more than just a simple bit of leather. But then again, maybe he is. After all, Kate’s almost never lets any of them see her without her gloves, not willingly.

He pauses at the thought, gaze flicking away from his task to look at Kate. He regrets it almost immediately. He wasn’t going to stop once he started, wasn’t going to give Kate cause to think he held any of the fear she’s convinced he must feel. But maybe she sees the question in his eyes, or feel it in the sure way he holds her wrist because she nods, small and hesitant but there. He pulls the glove the rest of the way off and lets it fall to the floor.

He lets out a breath just as Kate seems to suck one in, her gaze locked on her bare fingers and Seth loosens his grip, fingers already turning so he can run the flat of his palm up her wrist, forearm pressing against forearm as his hand aligns with hers.

He’s grinning, sudden and full of too much smug satisfaction if Kate’s affectionate eye roll is anything to go by, but Seth doesn’t care, already lacing their fingers together so he can hold her hand proper for once.

A/N: This is part of a tUA inspired AU that has no plot and therefore will never be written. But I know exactly what Kate and Seth’s abilities are, which is part of why this is such a thing for Kate here and why Seth feels her fears are unfounded.

10. UST (Unresolved Sexual Tension)

She doesn’t blink, barely seems to be breathing, holding herself so carefully behind her desk, straight backed and fingers laced together as she stares stubbornly up at him. He smiles, slow and measured and knowing, letting his gaze sweep over the cardigan she’s begun buttoning all the way up since he joined her little class, before leaning close, meeting her gaze and dropping his voice low, like a secret between them.

“And what do I get if I get it right?”

A/N: Seth goes back to school to get his GED, Ms. Fuller is not what he was expecting. I actually had a whole scene playing through my head for this, because I like build up, and it was really hard to pick just a small part to put here.

None of these are edited, despite how long it took to post, meaning I have mixed feelings on them, lol. I think I like more of them than I expected to, so yay!

#sethkate #asked and answered #my writing #these were both really hard and really fun #and with mixed sucess

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spiiderwiick · 4 years

Text

Wick had been avoiding their home. When they did pop back there, it was always with an escort, and mostly they just fed and misted their bugs before scurrying back off.

They’d heard about what happened when Benrey had run into Patches earlier. They knew she was not in good shape. The spell had worn off but it seemed to be having longer lasting emotional effects. That or feeling for the first time in decades wasn’t sitting well with her. Whatever the case, Patches was self destructing off in the woods when she wasn’t being a problem for everyone else and she seemed to be having weird emotional hangups about people being nice to her.

Wick found themself wishing she would just stay there, but they knew things wouldn’t stay that way.

After what felt like ages but had probably only been closer to a week, they decided they couldn’t stay away from home any longer. It was quiet, aside from the distant sounds of beetle feet squeaking against the corners of their enclosure and the hum of the fridge. Somehow these sounds didn’t grant them any feeling of comfort and security.

The first night. Things were normal enough. They spent most of the entire time with a cloud of anxiety hanging over them of this is it this is the day she finally comes for me. But no clown came.

The second night more of the same. Wick did start to reflect on what little they had seen of her recently. Usually it was in chats they both frequented. Any time they showed up, she tended to quietly disappear. It was actually pretty nice.

Just for a little while, they let their guard down. They stopped spooking at every bump they heard in the night, and only spooked at half of them. It was progress.

Nothing lasted forever though.

It was on the fourth night that the hammer finally dropped.

Wick was winding down for the evening. They’d just fixed themself a nice mug of hot chocolate, something suitable for the cool, late summer evening. They found themself taking a peek into their backyard to see if the stars were out, but as they did, a red glint caught their eye. At first they figured it was a reflection of one of their devices in the kitchen or living room, they glanced behind them to check.

There was nothing shining red in here.

The eyes in the back of their head caught movement and they quickly turned to focus on what they knew deep down in their gut was going to be the clown.

Patches had made short work of the distance between them, and had her face and long, long claws pressed to the glass. That single red eye burning with hatred and fully focused on Wick.

Wick did not hesitate to bolt, and they were speedy when they wanted to be. As they ran, they tried to pull out their phone and send a hasty text.

Speed doesn’t beat magic, though, and Patches, despite her open hatred of it, was very magic. Bubbling goo in their hallway was the only warning they had before a clawed hand grasped their leg, toppling them and sending their phone with its half written text flying out of their reach.

Patches pulled herself from the puddle, her many hands grasping Wick’s flailing limbs as they kicked and struggled. They were strong but she was stronger, “If you even think about calling that freak here, I will gut you on the spot.” Wick stared up at her, horrified. There was no lingering sentimentality left in them, she noted, unlike with Benrey. Their voice stayed caught in their throat before they managed to squeak out a terrified question, “what do you want?”

This fear... She had missed it. Too many people had been getting bold and more interested in striking up deals than fearing her. Patches leaned in close, teeth bared as though she intended to bite their face off right there and then, which had admittedly crossed her mind, “I want to know why.”

Why...............? Wick’s mind was blank. Why what? What was she demanding an answer to? Wait... No they remembered now, “i... you were just a kid. even if i-it’s you i. wasn’t gonna just. leave a scared kid on their own.”

Just a kid. No. She had bit them, she had outright told them she had killed before. Anyone in their right mind, especially someone she had been tormenting for most of a year should have taken that chance to off her. She was sure this was the correct line of thinking and not her own distorted bias talking, “You don’t seriously mean to tell me you are so sentimental that you felt the need to protect me.”

Their eyes widen as one of her hands tightened dangerously close to their throat. In that moment they became convinced that his was definitely where they were going to die, “i- no i- i just-”

Tears welled in their eyes, they were so scared. They knew this was going to blow up in their face. They knew it the whole time. Why did they help her? Why did they have to be so nice? That was exactly what she wanted to know too, apparently, “it.. was to protect you. and everyone else from you. i didn’t want you to get hit by a car or to hurt anyone else in your panic.”

“And why not?” Wick flinched at the sharpness of her question.

“i don’t know! maybe i am just so fucking soft that i can’t wish bad shit happening to a baby!” It was a perfectly reasonable thing to be soft about, and they knew it. That didn’t stop them from feeling bad about it because a clown was angry and in their face because of it, unfortunately.

“But you didn’t stop there, did you?” Her voice was accusatory, furious, “Playing pretend? That fort? All those treats?”

Wick knew they’d be frustrated by this later, assuming they lived through this encounter. These sounded like the stupidest things to be angry about, “i don’t know what you want me to say? sorry for treating you like a fucking person instead of locking you in the garage like a feral demon cat???”

Ah. Apparently they were already frustrated enough to run their mouth. They had no idea what was the right course of action to take here. There was no running, Patches had them pinned to the ground and claws everywhere. There was no appealing to her sentimental side, she clearly didn’t have one anymore. They knew she had been literally trying to tear out whatever might have been there, in their eyes she had succeeded. Being nice to her was the opposite of what she seemed to want. Being mean to her felt like a good way to get into a game of escalation. All they could do was snark and hope that it was mean enough to not piss her off without escalating things.

Patches looked surprised by their answer, maybe even a little impressed. She was used to them freezing up when they were afraid of her. Patches of course, gave no indication of this and only continued to press with her claws, “Ah but what am I if not a feral demon cat, hm?”

Whatever snappy retort Wick was going to fire back caught in their throat yet again as the claws pressed harder. It felt like she was going to puncture their carapace soon and that thought brought a new wave of fear, “y-you’re just a heartless monster. is that what you want me to say? are you happy???”

While that had been what she was fishing for, it didn’t hit like she’d wanted it to. Some minuscule part of her felt hurt by the comment, some remnant leftover from the magic, she was sure. Clearly she had more carving to do, because she wasn’t happy. Nothing was fixing this pit she felt in her chest. All she wanted was for it to go away. She thought confronting Wick, hearing words of hatred, unfiltered by any niceties would do it.

It didn’t.

Nothing was helping. Maybe she should just off them. She’d been toying with them for almost a year. The thought had struck her more than once, and she hated whenever people brought them up as a reason she was softer than she let on. That would show everyone, wouldn’t it? Especially that Nero fellow.

Patches raised a hand, claws curled and ready to strike. Wick paled, this was it. They squeezed their eyes shut, bracing themself for the inevitable blow.

All the sickeningly sweet kindness they had shown her roiled in her mind, she let the memories rise to fuel her anger. All their sympathy, their thoughtfulness, their patience, their genuine kindness, even when they were terrified of her, how they pushed through it to show her that she didn’t have to be mean or evil. How she didn’t want to be bad, she was just scared and met with fear in turn. Being a monster didn’t mean she had to do monstrous things. No. No... That wasn’t what she wanted to think about.

She struck.

Her claws buried themselves deep.. Into the wood floor, right next to their head.

At first Wick thought the crunch was their own exoskeleton and that their nerves just hadn’t caught up with them yet. They cracked open their eyes to figure out what happened. Had someone stopped her?

They had hoped Benrey had decided to check up on them at just the right moment. Instead what they saw was the claws tearing deep gouges into their floor and an incredibly upset clown. Wick couldn’t place any of the emotions on her face, it was hard enough to read normally with its mask-like qualities and the near permanent grin she wore. They could feel her hands trembling where she had them pinned down. Was she having second thoughts about killing them?

Truth be told, even Patches was having trouble figuring it out. Decades of suppressing nearly all her emotions had left her terrible at identifying them. Everything was either cruel glee or anger with no in-between. There was anger there, that much she knew. Now however, it was directed at herself more than Wick. Why couldn’t she do this? Why hadn’t she done it earlier? Was she growing sentimental?

More nausea rose in her. This was supposed to be easy.

Patches found herself so rattled by her inability to kill them that she couldn’t even come up with some half baked excuse. It took her longer to notice her trembling hands than it did for Wick. Why was this happening? What was wrong with her? Damn it all. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. She knew she was better than this.

Gritting her teeth, Patches hauled Wick off the ground to slam them back against the wall. She just needed to get back into it, she needed momentum. Glass picture frames crunched behind them and Wick cried out in pain, kicking their legs feebly in an attempt to keep her at bay. Patches drew back a hand and- The pit was back and it was growing. It was that same guilt she felt as a child when she realized that biting their hand had been wrong. Why? Why why why why why?

Shit.

She couldn’t do it.

Why couldn’t she do it?

Her grip faltered and Wick dropped to the ground like a gangly sack of potatoes. Before they could do or say anything, she withdrew into goo, vanishing into the night.

It was Wick’s turn to be a trembling mess now. Their life had flashed before their eyes twice in the span of two minutes. What had just happened? She wanted to kill them, they knew that much, but something had stopped her. Did she have a conscience now? Was there still some shred of good in her?

Wick decided they didn’t care. They crawled down the hall to reach their phone. The screen had cracked from the impact. They sat back against the wall as the tears started to trickle down their face. They could barely type or proofread what they were writing.

Whatever. They sent the garbled message. Now to wait and try to remember to breathe.

#drabble #f2f #jpstandsforjustpatches

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artisticamore · 5 years

Text

❄❄The tiniest snowflake❄❄

The tattoo is a symbol of the snowflake clan. A large intricate detailed snowflake made of warm hues of amber dusted in sliver, outlines in gold. Everyone wore the mark with pride, with honour. They were a clan of assassin's everybody knew that they would do anything for money. But they only went after thoes who the law couldn't touch thoes who hid in darkness, the unknown of society. But something changed after 300 years of loyalty. Their views changed. After a while killing people wasn't enough they were hungry for even more power so they became something twisted. What was once a clan of protectors, hero's was now a name that scared everyone.

Seven-year-old Amethyst watches the sky from her perch, her back against the tree trunk, her legs stretched out in front of her. This was her escape, high in the trees where no one could reach her. Isolated and alone, where eyes can’t see her and faces can’t sneer at her . A safe haven, her God given solace, but also a curse.

Loneliness.

It’s a double-edged sword.

Alone, she doesn’t have to listen to the poison that spews from people’s lips, washing over her and choking her. She doesn’t have to see the hatred and malice directed toward a not-so-hypothetical devil spawn or the jeering glee at the image of said spawn’s rightfully earned suffering and death for the crime of existing. She doesn’t have to hear stories and legends about the oh so great clan and how she tainted their bloodline. How her parents should have struck her down of her 5th birthday. She was useless, unwanted, something ugly that didnt deserve to keep living. All because of her being born quirkless. Was she really something tinted, twisted and unclean? Would she really be destined to live a life of hardships? Would she really die lonely and alone never to know love?

Their words cut deep than any sword could, even alone, she is trapped in her own head. When she's with people, she at least has something she can take her frustration out on. Without them, her thoughts enter a downward spiral of anger and self-disgust.

Still, it is better this way, at least, that is what she has convinced herself.

Who can possibly stand the thought of being near someone like her?

She didn’t deserve to be born. She is evil personified after all; there is nothing good about her.

She's tainted.

And so her thoughts would go, on and on in an endless, self-crippling cycle.

However today was different something had happened something even when your evil the honor the clan once had wouldn't stand for. Someone died that shouldn't have, as assassin's they had one rule get the job done, don't be seen, but most importantly do it right. The family broker aka Nathaniel was in charge of the assignments who got A-E assassinations.

Going by all the screaming someone royal screwed up a A column assassination attempt killing the 3rd cousin of the target, the good looks gene must run very deep to look so much like each other that even your 3rd cousin could past to be you.

"They want who blood as collateral?" Screamed the monarch!

Nathaniel looked his long time friend and boss in the eye. "The assassin who killed the wrong man. I know this isn't something you want to hear believe my old friends but a sacrifice must be made as payment you know the law of the trade a life for a life."

"Unacceptable Nathaniel! I refuse to give up one of my best assassin's just because they didn't give a clear description. How was we to know that not only did they have the wrong person but that he had three look alike, he has the picture on him saw his target made the kill end of story. If they want a sacrifice they'll get on. I'm a man of my word and I follow the rules however they will not be getting the killer. Instead you can repay them with little miss worthless. I've been trying to find out a way to get rid of the brat for a whole year." The monarch gave a killer smile.

Nathaniel couldn't say he didn't see this coming. His old friend could be a hothead. Signing he nodded his head while making a call to set up preparations for the transfer.

Amethyst couldn't believe her ears she was being sold. Quickly and quietly she climbed down from her hiding spot making it back to her room just in time for the door to be busted open. Raymond her uncle drags her before the gathered clan members throwing her down before the monarch. Amethyst kept her eyes to the floor she wasnt allowed to look up to anyone unless being told otherwise. From there she listened to the clan speak about her, laughing and calling out words of happiness that she will no longer be their problem. The monarch spoke up calling the attention to be once again on himself. He announced that she will no longer live here from now on. Amethyst doesn’t know what to think. She didn't understand even if given as payment what could she possibly give, what use was she, was a nobody, she was quirkless though she did know how to fight she learnt by watching in serect her clan thought so much of themselves that they viewed she couldn't do anything yet she was quieter than the most skilled in stealth and was the lightest on her feet out of the whole clan. Well that came from being underweight. She might not look it but she was indeed much lighter than she looked.

Her face most have gave her away because next thing she knew she smacked hard enough she saw stars. She must had caught the side of her cheek between her teeth, blood pulled inside her mouth. Yet she stayed submissive low to the ground her head never once lifting higher. The monarch was angry, no pissed he sneered at her and spat in her face that she would be a prefect slave. That she would listen to each and every instruction place upon her and was expected to fulfill each task perfectly. She was also warned if she failed to do as told even death wouldn't be merciful for what they would do to her. Amethyst nodded silently brushing the spit and blood on her ragged clothes. Next to the monarch stood his wife the misstress or shedevil in her book.

She rattled off a list of things such as her new training, no longer would she clean and cook. She had maybe a few weeks to months till the transfer was to be completed. Her training was in effect immediately. Shedevil order the clans women to teach her how to walk seductress not knowing what type of slave she would become. Shedevil explained that even though she was young and no one would touch her she must learn how to be a hostess.

From that night on till the night of her be shipped off she trained, walk like a lady, talk and listen like the person in your company hung the very moon themself. She was given better clothing too, she trained her voice to be softer sweeter, musical. The males of the clan showed her how to assist them in dressing while the woman did the same too just in case she was made into a lady in waiting. The cooks were given the task to show her how to make many different drinks. The monarch and shedevil gave little praise to her picking up her skills hastily. Little did they know Amethyst was always a fast learner dare say she was a genius not that anyone took note of it. After many weeks of hard training the day had come she was being transfer many states of to a underground strong held ran by the strongest family the mafia.

When Amethyst came too, the first thing she registered was pain.

Burning, searing pain. The kind of pain she hadn’t felt in weeks. Not since she started her new training. Her newest owner hated her by sight called her ugly and unsightly, that her skin tone was a eyesore, that her curly natural hair was dirty looking even though her hair was washed and scented with warm lavender and coconut oil for some reason her Misstress hated her. Amethyst was no stranger to to racism she knew prejudice when she saw it. She couldn't feel the weight of her own hair anymore, tentatively, slowly she ran her hand across her head, where once laid shoulder length hair pulled into a bun. Now was a tiny curly afro, someone had lopped off her hair. She felt empty; the constant warmth of her hair provided was no longer there to soothe her. It was agonizing; her back felt like it was on fire, skin and flesh seared down to bone. It hurt to move, hurt to breath. It was agonizing. But Amethyst clenched her jaw and grit her teeth, refusing to let any sound escape, refusing to let them know she was in pain, refusing to give them the satisfaction. She may be a slave, but she was not broken. Not even her own clan had broken her and neither would her new mistress.

As the pain in her back dulled, she let her senses take over. She was lying on her stomach, the surface beneath her hard and cold, a sharp contrast to her back. Something cool was locked in place around her neck, wrists, and ankles. A collar. Shackles. And suddenly, with startling clarity, Amethyst realized that the burning pain in her back was a brand. She hadn’t just been sold. She was branded as a plaything in essence she was a pet.

Fury coiled in her gut and rage bubbled up her throat. Not even her own blood stooped to something so cruel even if she was viewed as worthless scars on the back was a warriors shame. Even though she was beat upon they never once marked her back out of honor.

Amethyst cried, tears burred her eyes, tightly clamped lips cut off any noise trying to make its way out. She had read stories about this; that some people marked their property like animals. She’d always thought it odd that she never heard to clan brag about offing such ones where in the grand hall of history she has read about such ones. Back in the day her clan hunted such ones down. So why was these people permitted to do such a thing to her, why were they able to keep breathing? Amethyst had her answer now. And it sickened her greatly . Their lives were spared because her clan fell so far from honour and grace that their love of money and possible fame made it so that they supported this disgusting practice. The only reason why her clan was so know now wasn't because if their Legacy. NO they were in the back pocket of the government pretending to be honorable.

Amethyst was pulled out of her thoughts when cool air brushed over the wound on her back. Her eyes snapped open of their own accord and she was met with the sight of a older boy. A very, very tall boy. He was thin, startlingly so, but his face somehow still held the roundness of a child’s. Maybe 15 no older then 17 He had big, grey eyes, a large scar across his nose, and a mop of black hair. He wore nothing but a pair of worn and ragged pants, no shirt, no shoes. His wrists and ankles had thick black shackles, but the collar around his neck showed his strength a first classes high tech quirj collar Amethyst didn’t need to see his back.

This teen was a slave and very powerful.

Her eyes flitted around the room they were in. Or rather, the cell. It was medium sized, the floor, ceiling and three of the walls made of cold, unforgiving stone. The fourth wall was made of metal bars. Amethyst saw a hallway possibly the way out. She could see another cell across from their and what looked to be a storage room might hold supplies.

Her vision was obscured by another face in front of her's. “So,” he drawls from her eft in the darkness of the cell, and Amethyst freezes, “Awake finally. Your very interesting, little one I heard the guards say your quirkless yet I noticed your eyes flash. Shhhh... your okay there is no need to panic they haven't seen it. You've been here about a few months this is first time you've stayed awake though. I'm glad your alright.”

Months? Amethyst doesn't remember that only the first day of meeting and possibly a few hours after that. So she's been here longer than what she thought, Amethyst thinks it would be best not to answer him however he was the only one here with her. Company would be nice maybe since he been here longer he knew things. She licked her lip once twice then and third time befor clearing her throat. "I'm Amethyst." She rasping out.

"Pleasure to meet you, I'm Hatsuharu though I go by Haru. My friends call me dark Haru as a joke because of my quirk. It's void and sentinel my quirk gives damage boosts to my allies, but it draws my opponents attention and focus AWAY from my allies and towards the user, allowing for the perfect distraction! Because it's basically a taunting quirk, a defensive abilities activated. The cold air you felt on you when you first woke was me using my quirk on you, I've been here for a long time wearing these, I've kinda grown a somewhat immunity to the quirk suppressors. I'll help you out anyway I can."

"Why? What’s in it for you?”

This one was different then the other slaves that came through here. Haru could see that he knew the quirkless was treated like dirt less than everything hell trash was viewed better. Amethyst read him the way he’s standing, searching for any weaknesses, searching for any hint of ill meaning. And maybe a better word would be analyzing. This girl wasn’t just reading him. She was completely analyzing him, and she was about as ready as one can be to jump out if Haru would make any sudden movement. Despite hurt she could still fight.

“Nothing.” Haru shrugged.

“Impossible. No one offers without expecting something back.”

"I've heard what they have in store for you once you come of age I want to help you. But I'm gonna need your help too, i need to get home. They think your quirkless you might be a late bloomer or possible a rare case of a forced quirk mutation from all the hardships. Your quirkless so I know your life hasn't been easy. I'll watch out for you and you do the same for me. With them thinking your quirkless they'll underestimate you."

For a few seconds, silence falls in the cell again, and then the same voice replies in dry, almost flippant tones, “Your underweight tiny but a fighter i can tell just looking at, youve probably foiled everyone. But not me before becoming a slave i was a vigilante."

Wait he said Months didn't he?

Amethyst had to concentrate on breathing for a minute, in and out, in and out, until the strange tangle of panic and grief that hits her out of nowhere fades again.

“Haru,” She eventually croaks out. She pauses, then forces out, “How… many months … has it been?”

“Not sure exactly,” Her cellmate - Haru - answers easily. “I think we get fed once a day, but I didn’t know that at first so I didn’t bother counting, and I’ve probably missed a few days here and there. As close as I can tell though, it’s been almost six months since they stashed you in here with me, give or take. If you were in a different cell before, I wouldn’t know.”

Six month. Six months . Six-

“Hey, calm down,” Haru cuts in, and for the first time, something sharp enters his voice. “If the guards see you throwing a fit, they’ll gas us unconscious. And that’s all they’ll do if we’re lucky,

but considering the fact that we’re here at all, luck screwed us over a long time ago.”

Amethyst drags in a shaky breath that rattles down her throat and feels like it gets stuck somewhere in her chest. She does it again and again until she regains a thin veneer of calm that at least allows her to think. The muscles in her back burn with each breath.

Six months. In a way, it feels like it’s been even longer than that. But, she thinks, some part of her still clung to the hope that it hasn’t been months, maybe days at most, and…

(And she promised herself, deep down, that if she ever got out her family would pay back for everything in tenthfold every scar, the abuse the hardships. Everything. She'll grow stronger she'll get as far from America as she could, she'll make a name for herself she'll live and maybe find someone who will love her. And live her life to the fullest.

She knew what it sounded like, a fairy tale, and she learned a long time ago that there’s no such thing in real life, so she knows full well that if a life of comfort full of love and happiness and a family of her own is what she wanted she'll have to put in the blood, sweat and tears.)

She lies there in the darkness for a while, just… digesting everything, and her cellmate doesn’t interrupt. Her thoughts turn to Haru which is an easier subject to focus on than how much time she's lost. Older than her, and strong by the looks of. Smarter than her. Skilled too.

“You said… since they put me in here with you,” she frowns. “How long… have you been here?”

Haru hums, and there’s a note of surprise in the sound, like he didn’t expect her to pick up on that, or maybe to ask about it at all. “Dunno. Like I said, I didn’t count at first. I had no way to tell morning or night my eyes were covered at first for weeks. But maybe three years or so? Had the cell all to myself back then. My will was stronger back then I broke out a few times too each time I did I was caught and drugged till they had enough they broke both my legs and put this high end collar on me. I stopped trying after.

“How old are you?” she asks abruptly.

Haru doesn’t answer right away, and when he does he looks sad. "I had just turned 16 when I was captured. I was out on patrol with a buddy of mine. We heard of kids being taken of the streets so I was watching over the children who walks home I kept everyone safe except myself."

“I’m fairly certain that you did your best if your the only one who ended up here.” Amethyst explained.

“True as that maybe i still shouldn't have been taken,” Haru volleys back without missing a beat, and Amethyst sighs and lets the matter drop.

“Why are you in here?” He asks instead. “how old are? I can't till your very short.”

"I'm here as payment, a life for a life, my family are hired assassin's someone murder the wrong person. Normally the guilty person gives their life however the monarch of my family gave me in their place. As for my page if I really been out for weeks then I just turned eight years old.

Thank you so much for your help my lovely friends.

@thedreadthread @plainbrunettelbl @monst @smittenkitten143 @todorokiaimee

@ezramine-chan

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lantern-inthenight · 5 years

Text

Playing the Vocals (series)

Chapter Three: Power and Control

Pairing: Josh x fem!Reader Word Count: 1430 Warnings: Language, pettiness A/N: Alright y’all, it’s here already!! I’m on a roll with this one, so hopefully I’ll have Chapter 4 up soon (cause that’s where things get turned up to 11 hehe) Also, get ready to stan Miss motherfucking Michaels. Eternal thanks to @sparrowof-thedawn for proofreading this for me <3

Summary: Josh and Reader are competing vocalists at a music college. They are each trying to win a competition as soloists, but their advisor tells them they can only win as a duo. They begrudgingly become partners, but find that they may have bitten off more than they can chew.

You actually looked forward to practice that Friday. Your short conversation with Josh had given you hope that you might actually be able to get along. You almost felt a kinship with him, even if that kinship was founded only on your shared tastes in music. But still, talking to him had been kind of pleasant.

It was nice while it lasted.

“See, this-- this right here is why I can’t stand you!”

Your shout echoed through the music room, and was bounced back to you with an equally-scathing insult from Josh.

“Well, at least I’m not a control freak!”

Miss Michaels sat at the piano looking tired. You and Josh were in the ninth or tenth round of a shouting match that started five minutes ago. You stood several feet apart, your shared copy of the day’s song (“Almost Paradise” by Mike Reno and Ann Wilson) laying abandoned by the wayside.

“Are you sure about that, asshole?” You shot back, prompting a white-hot glare from Josh. Miss Michaels stood up, exasperated.

“Alright, you two, stop it now.”

But you and Josh were oblivious to her interruption. You got right up in his face, which was slowly turning red to match your own.

“You’re the one that just had to sing louder even though the harmony is supposed to be obvious in that part of the song! But no! You just couldn’t let me have it!”

“Why the hell would I? The harmony should never be louder than the melody!”

“Well, that one is!”

Josh opened his mouth with an angry reply, but your argument was stopped dead in its tracks by a sharp, ear-splitting whistle. You both turned to find your instructor standing next to the piano with a small, metal whistle perched between her lips.

“Jesus,” Josh hissed, as you each placed hands over your ears. Michaels lowered the whistle and clasped her hands in front of her, looking unimpressed.

“When I ask you to be silent, you will listen respectfully. Is that clear?”

You and Josh glared at one another before nodding with matching frowns.

“Aren’t those made for dogs?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Miss Michaels replied matter-of-factly. “But I find they work rather well for students, too.”

You and Josh could do nothing but stand there, looking indignant.

“Quarreling like children is not going to win you this grant,” Miss Michaels chastised.. You looked at the floor guiltily, unwilling to look at Josh. The heat radiating off him spoke for itself.

“We’ve already determined your voices are more than compatible. But the two of you need to learn to complement each other and recognize each other’s strengths,” Michaels continued, walking up to you. “...instead of constantly competing. Because that will get you nowhere. Is that clear?”

You and Josh made similar disgruntled noises of admission. Miss Michaels reached for the whistle in her pocket, pulling enthusiastic “Yes ma’am”s from both of you.

“We’ll meet again Monday,” she declared, turning back to the piano. “Take this weekend to... gather yourselves,” she instructed, frowning at you both over her glasses.

“And next week, you will both receive lessons on power balance and control issues.”

With that, she was off. You stood there, mouth open. Josh folded his arms and sighed. When you looked up at him, he looked like he wanted to say something. But you didn’t give him the chance. You turned on your heel and left, fighting tears of frustration.

This was a massive mistake.

…

Upon leaving the rehearsal, you had called Emily to vent. She listened patiently as you ranted about the day’s events. When you were done yelling into the receiver at no one in particular, she gave you a half-hearted encouragement. But the best thing she could offer was to get you drunk, which you readily accepted.

So the following evening, you put on your tightest skirt, paired with a flowy blouse that you left unbuttoned a little further than it should have been. Emily and your other friends whistled at you when you got in their car, which made you blush. But you were secretly proud of yourself.

It was a glee that left you the moment you walked into the house party to see Josh laughing with a bunch of his friends in the living room.

Emily noticed you glaring, and followed your gaze to the opponent on the couch.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, dude, I didn’t know Matt invited him.”

“It’s fine,” you replied, shrugging. “Let’s just drink, okay?”

“Fine by me.” Emily grinned. She led you to the kitchen, where a makeshift bar had been set up. Every surface was covered in plastic cups, mixers, and various bottles of alcohol. You elected to mix some Fresca with the first kind of vodka you could find, handing a cup to Emily before making one for yourself.

You managed to dance for about an hour without event, effectively ignoring the presence of Josh and his brothers. But after several drinks, Emily’s wild side had come out to play. She ended up wrapped around one of Matt’s friends on the armchair, leaving you to your own devices.

...

You were sitting on the landing of the staircase, looking out over the party and mourning the emptiness of your cup. You were zoned out enough to not realize that Josh was approaching until he was right in front of you.

“Hey,” he greeted, looking a bit nervous. You felt a small sting of sympathy, which wrestled with the pang of annoyance that came at the sight of his face.

“Hi.”

“My brothers are completely wasted, whereas I am only a little wasted,” he explained. “Do you mind if I join you?”

You answered with a nod, and fidgeted with the hem of your skirt as he sat down next to you. It was a narrow staircase, and the sides of your knees brushed. You ignored it, and chose to continue people watching.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he began. You looked at him sideways, a little surprised. Was he actually trying to be nice? What happened to the asshole you were used to dealing with?

“I just figured I’d take the lead since you missed your cue,” he added, causing you to roll your eyes.

There he is.

“I wouldn’t have missed my cue if I didn’t have to be staring at your stupid face,” you snapped. Josh gave you a smirk, that goddamned smirk.

“Staring at my face a lot, mama?”

Previously, you would have been flustered at the unwanted pet name. But the vodka in your bloodstream willed you to face him directly with eyebrows raised.

“No. But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Josh scoffed, shaking his head.

“Please,” you continued, feeling braver. “As if I didn’t notice you staring my ass during my solo. Is that why you forgot the lyrics in that line?”

Josh was silent, and you felt a wave of triumph. You had gotten him.

“That’s what I thought.”

You moved to stand up, but Josh spoke up.

“You watch me, too.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve seen you staring at me, too,” Josh reiterated, looking at you with his chin lifted. You shrunk into yourself a little, turning red in the face.

“Well, yeah, you… have a… commanding presence,” you offered, struggling to find words that you wouldn’t regret.

“Oh, yeah?” He looked smug, and you wanted to punch him. So you stood your ground.

“Yeah.”

“Is it really so hard for you to admit you’re into me?”

The fucking nerve of him. You were speechless. When you scoffed and rolled your eyes, he spoke again.

“Fine, I’ll go first. I think you’re an incredible singer, and you’re insanely attractive.”

Wait, what?

You had to look at him, unsure if he was playing a cruel prank. But there was no lie behind the brown of his eyes. The tiniest bit of heat rose to your cheeks, and you couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or something else.

“You’re attractive, too,” you admitted. Josh almost smiled. You should have left it there, but the vodka wasn’t done with you yet. The words were out of your mouth before your brain had vetted them.

“If you weren’t such an asshole.”

Josh’s almost-smile fell into a frown. His annoyance, you could handle. What was worse...he looked hurt. And it was your fault.

“Thanks,” he replied darkly, before getting up and walking downstairs. Leaving you alone on the landing to contemplate your mistake. You couldn’t help but be a little angry at yourself.

Monday rehearsal was going to suck.

End note: AHHH What did y’all think?? Please reblog with your opinions or comment below! What do you think will happen in Chapter 4?

Taglist: @kissthesun-fightthefire, @lover--leaver, @myownparadise96, @satans-helper, @songbirdkisses, @bluewillowmom, @sweetkiszkadreams, @mountainofthesunn, @turntonightfirelight

#playing the vocals #gvf #greta van fleet #josh kiszka #writing

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mylovelysanshine · 5 years

Text

for you; choi jongho

just for you, he would do anything no matter what.

g: fantasy, action, fluff, angst??

inspired by stray kids' i am you and monsta x's fighter.

[1]

jongho!

jongho perks up, looking at your figure making your way towards his direction. he blinks as you stopped your tracks, standing infront of him.

what?

you huffed, rolling your eyes before pinching his ear hard.

what? what?! look at you! didnt i told you to stop fighting?! why are you so stubborn?!

you said, frustration coming off from you as you continued pulling his ear.

y-y/n!! jongho screams in pain, hands trying to pull off yours from his ear and you decided to let go before placing your hands on your hips. you looked at him, raising one of your eyebrows; asking him the reason behind his actions as you wait for him patiently.

jongho closed his eyes and sighed, he has nothing to hide from you because you know that he's lying if he tries to so he decided to answer. instead of ignoring like he used to.

...they were talking bad about you again and i dont like that

your face softens, listening to his words attentively before sitting down infront of him. you cupped his face gently, as if its fragile. he slowly opened his eyes, embracing the beautiful gaze of yours as your breathe tickled his face. his heart started to race after realising how close the both of you are.

jongho, you know you should ignore them. i always told you that! they're not worth our time! im used to this, its alright!

you took a deep breathe, calming yourself down before continuing but got cut off by someone's voice.

choi jongho!

both of you looked at the direction where the owner's voice was, seeing jongho's mother angrily walking towards the both of you. yanking your hands away from him, pulling his arm up.

where have you been?! didnt i told you not to hang out with this weird girl?!

seeing his mother screaming at your best friend makes you scared; because you're seeing red aura covering her whole body.

red.

danger.

evil.

jongho rolled his eyes internally before looking at you, seeing your face turns into fear. curiousity got him but his mother pulled him away before he was about to question you, leaving you alone.

jongho slammed the door shut, anger building off him. he got an arguement with his mother because of you, because of how weird and dangerous you are, thinking you are someone evil when you're not.

he didnt understand why people dispised you, even your parents. they called you names, described you as a whole different person and neglected you whenever you try to make friends or helping them when they were in need.

because someone like you,

whose heart like yours is never the same as anyone else in this world

heart so kind that its so unreal

so unreal that people whose heart is not like yours, decided to hate you for being kind

and you deserve to be protected and loved from this cruel world at any cost and jongho is willing to do that for you.

so, jongho decided to go out and went to find you, ignoring his mother's questions to him.

you're in the forest.

the forest that the king forbids anyone to go to because of rumours of a dangerous monster in the forest that will attack you either in the day or night

but your feet brought you here unknowningly.

you looked around, looking for ways to get out from this place until your eyes landed on a mysterious cave. curiousity got you as you took little steps towards the cave, harsh cold wind touching your skin even though the weather is hot. voices could be heard from the cave but it wasnt clear for you to understand and before you could fully stepped in, someone pulled you by your arm.

the stranger spun your body around, shouting at you are you out of your mind?! you're going to die if you go in there!

you tilted your head, a surprised look on your face you care?

what do you mean? the stranger furrowed his eyebrows, confused over your question

you..you took a step forward, making the stranger pull his arms away from you and taking a step back ...care about me?

he looked at you, observing your facial expression; genuine happiness glowing out on your face, also not to mention how cute you are. he shook his thoughts off and coughed a little, not wanting to think too much about it.

...yeah? and what about it?

you squeled, jumping up and down someone finally cares about me! im going to tell jongho about this!

the stranger didnt say anything, staring at you as he was weirded out by your sudden attitude. you stopped, realising that you were too hyper infront of a stranger who doesnt know you.

well...uhm...im y/n! sorry about that, this is my first time knowing that someone cares about me other than my best friend.. you confessed, looking down as you were feeling embarrassed to tell someone about your feelings when you know the people whom you talked to didnt care about you. his expression softened when he heard that from you, why would people ignore you like that? but then he realised that you are y/n he's talking to, the most talked about and hated in this village.

it was silent for a moment before you break it.

hey san?

yeah? san replied before looking at you with his wide eyes wait, how do you know my name?

you laughed and san feels like he's listening to a beautiful melody everyone knows you! you're a prince, san you replied, smiling widely as your dimple popped out, making his heart beat faster than usual.

o-oh.. that's all he could say

you smiled and san swore he could see the galaxy around you so san, what are you doing here?

the both of you talked for a long time, not knowing that the day has already passed but it didnt matter for the both of you. the both of you shared your stories to eachother, your hobbies and many more and it feels like you have a new best friend.

you also learned that san doesnt like his father, you didnt know why but he told you to protect yourself if you ever see him.

run, hide if you ever see him. do not interact with him that was all he said to you about his father and you didnt even question it

then, the both of you decided to seperate your own ways since it was getting late until someone calls your name.

oh? jongho? jongho! you ran to him with glee, jumping at jongho a few meters away from him and giving him a hug but both san and jongho saw is that you were flying.

what are you doing here? you asked, smiling happily and are you okay?

i was trying to find you..and yes, im fine he reassured as he hugs back, smiling at you as messes up your hair before his eyes landed on san, quickly releasing the hug and bows to him prince san!

..so this is jongho she was talking about huh san thought before smiling at him please dont bow! im just a normal person like you

but you're a prince and im just a villager, prince san

but we're both humans, arent we? those are just unnessecary stupid names san said, coming up to jongho as he extend his arm call me san

before the three of you could say another word, heavy rain started to fall out of a sudden.

its raining! quick! into the cave! you shouted as the rain got heavier and heavier

but its dangerous! both san and jongho said at the same time

we have no choice, you idiots! come on!

and so, the three of you ran into the cave, having no choice but to wait in there until the rain stopped. the three of you stepped in, echoes of your footsteps welcoming you three. the three of you are drenched but that didnt worry you, you were worried about how the three of you are able to go back home. not to mention that you were glad that san didnt wear anything fancy today, since the rain has started out of the sudden. you looked around in the cave, seeing nothing but darkness

until you saw a ball of light.

you gasped as your eyes widen. your legs dragging you to the light, leaving the boys alone.

h-hey! y/n! where are you going?! jongho panicked, running up to you as san follows from behind.

...the light! can you see it? you asked, turning around to look at the both of them. they nodded, they can see the light too but why and how is it here? is there someone else in this cave?

questions filled in both their minds for a moment until they got the answer, looking up and looking at eachother.

they forgot that there is a monster in this cave.

you were walking furthur from them, walking towards the light. before they could stopped you, your hands touched the light, making the cave rumble.

it went for a minute and the three of you didnt say a word after it stopped

until a voice came

what kind of a human, who dares to step into my cave?

a/n: hello!!! im back with a new fic!!!hehe i've been wanting to finish this first part of 'For You' !! like a few weeks after i finished 'Lonely' but i was so busy with school and life:,) and i was having no motivation at that time;;;; but i hope that with this new fic, my lovely atiny readers are enjoying this and wants to know more about the story!!! this is my first time doing a fantasy au so please bear with me!!

and sorry if there's any english errors:/ english is confusing zhshjz

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doubledeaky · 5 years

Text

No Sleep Tonight

Brian May x Female!Reader

A/N: Hey, babes! This is dedicated to all my fellow kids who grew up with strict parents, even though this is a little dramatic. This is my first Brian smut so I hope it’s halfway decent cuz I’m super proud of it. I have a Rami request coming down the pipeline soon, stay tuned! As always, feedback is very much appreciated! Much love! -m:)

Summary: Brian is never one to encourage disobedience towards your parents, but when it comes to you, he’ll make an exception.

Word Count: 5,835 words

Warnings: cursing, smut (18+ please!), oral sex (female and male receiving)

To say your parents were strict would be an understatement. As far back as you can recall, your mother and father were what most would call “helicopter parents.” Both constantly swirling your perimeter, never keeping their watchful eyes away from you for long. It made more sense then, you were a child and required supervision. Now, at eighteen years of age and just two months away from your first semester of university, it seemed cruel. Their unyielding attitudes an ever-present reminder of the tight leash they could keep around your throat as long as they were paying your way. For the better part of your short existence, you’d accepted it, obeying their rules and never straying from the narrow path set for you since birth. However, this changed when you met Brian. He was like you, a people pleaser and respect for authority was something he was taught to cherish, a virtue that should never slip from his subconscious. You related to him and bonded over the restricting barriers the two of you faced every day.

Senior year of high school had certainly been a time of great change, you’d met Brian and became a legal adult, but little changed. Your parents were still insufferably authoritative, and your frustration was only made worse when you watched helplessly from the side lines as all of your friends were cut loose, even Brian. You were gob smacked when, seemingly overnight, Brian’s parents had forgone all previous guidelines once he’d turned eighteen. Everyone was moving on and you were stagnant, glued by your feet to the same space you’d been stuck for years.

Brian comforted you when your parents were unwilling to lift your curfew on your eighteenth birthday, and he let you cry into his shoulder when you weren’t allowed to go to your own graduation after party with the rest of your classmates. That night, which was meant to be special, he watched with sullen eyes and a frown as you wept softly into the material of his graduation gown. You remember the clinking of his numerous academic metals against his bony sternum and the breeze of early May cooling your angry, heated face.

“Don’t worry, love. Uni’s right there, freedom’s just around the corner.” He said, gesturing animatedly to the space before him in an attempt to comfort you.

You smiled half-heartedly, shifting uncomfortably on the concrete steps leading to the entrance of the gymnasium, where your classmates were celebrating; living lives you’d never gotten a taste of, but ones you so craved. You sniffled, sitting up and wiping your tears with the sleeve of your silky, black gown.

“I know, Bri.”

You looked up, your parents were impatiently stood in front of the family car, your mother tapping her foot against the pavement. You sighed in what felt like familiar defeat and turned to Brian.

“I should go.” You whispered, holding your arms open to invite him into your embrace. He grinned and hugged you tightly, his curls tickling the skin of your neck. He pulled away, grabbing your face in both hands.

“Three months.” He whispered, giving you a genuine smile, a glint of childlike mischief in his bright eyes.

“Three months.” You repeated, placing your hands over his and giving him a sweet giggle. You nodded quickly and stood; he followed, giving you one last long hug and a wave as you scurried off, bunching your gown in your hands to keep it from scraping against the pavement. Brian watched as your parents silently scolded you, chastising you for being a normal teenager, and waited until the taillights of the minivan disappeared into the darkness before joining his classmates in celebration without you, the one person he really wished was there.

That was nearly a month ago and even the biggest declaration of coming adult hood, graduation, did little to change your parents’ no-nonsense ways. Your summer as of now was spent working the occasional shift at the library, cherished but always short visits with friends, and enjoying the sunshine of late-June. What made this particular summer miles more bearable was your daily interactions with Brian, either in person or over the phone. His seemingly respectable and gentle nature had won over your parents’ trust and even they enjoyed his company when he stopped by. He lived close by, usually walking the short distance or hopping into his birthday present, a used but very loved station wagon. His presence was always the highlight of your day. Summer afternoons were usually spent in the cool grass of your backyard, listening to music that encourage rebellion or cooped up in your room, doing the same. Conversation was easy, and Brian pulled laughs from you with skill and practiced grace, never failing to bring a smile to your occasionally sullen face. Today was no different, Brian’s sweet voice over the phone placed a wicked grin on your face without fail.

“How long has it been since I’ve seen you?” He asked, you could see his brows drawing together in thought through the phone.

“Just two days, Bri.” You laughed, twirling the phone’s cord idly between nimble fingers.

“Well, we can��t have that. Come over.” He said simply, and you could hear him shifting his position on the creaky bed he was sat on.

“Are you mad? It’s past curfew.” You laughed incredulously, eyebrows raising in disbelief.

“It’s past curfew for you. I don’t have one of those.” He said, grin evident in his voice.

“Wish it worked like that, Bri.” You sighed into the phone, turning your head momentarily to look at the open magazine sat beside you.

“What are your folks gonna do, hm? You’re eighteen, they can’t keep doing this to you.” He huffed, falling back into the pillows behind him.

“They can if they pay for me to live.” You reply in an attempt to jog his memory, turning the page of your magazine absentmindedly.

“Still.” He whines, running a hand through his mop of brunette curls.

“Still nothing, Bri. I’m not risking it. I’m so close to ditching this joint and I’m not jeopardizing my freedom because you’re bored.” You chided, throwing your magazine to the floor before crossing your arms over your chest.

“Well I’ve already got shoes on and my car keys are looking mighty tempting.” He says, and you can hear a smirk in his voice.

“Brian May, I swear on my- “

The phone goes dead. You scoff as you pull it from your ear and stare into it. You groan and stand from your bed, trying to devise a logical plan of action. After minutes of pacing the length of your tiny bedroom, you gave up; huffing loudly as you fell backwards onto your bed, running a shaky hand over your face. Fuck it.

You slip on a pair of worn, trusted shoes and looked in the mirror at your appearance. Your skin was aglow with the mark of the summertime sun, your hair wild and mussed, lips pulled into a wide smile and heart pounding. Despite everything your parents had drilled into your head from the day you could comprehend complete thoughts, you’d never been more inclined to throw it all to the wayside in this very moment.

A soft knock sounded against your fogged window and you looked up, nerves sizzling with a mixture of fear and pure adrenaline. You stood and glanced at the clock, past midnight, your parents no doubt asleep in their seemingly sound proof master bedroom. You took a deep breath and made the leap of faith, opening your window and peering down at a smiling Brian before hopping out, the short distance knocking you off balance momentarily. Brian caught you, his laughs stifled through clenched teeth. You shut the window tight with shaky hands and turned to Brian, eyes wide in shock.

“You did it.” He whisper-yelled, gripping your shoulders and shaking you with excitement. You laughed, giggle laced with a nervous energy. Brian pulled his keys from his pocket, dangling them before your face, the brass shining under the bright glow of the moon.

“Let’s go.” He whispered, taking your hand in his and pulling you towards his car, parked a cautionary block and a half away. No turning back now.

***

“Brian, my heart’s pressing against my ribs.” You groan, clutching the rough polyester shirt covering your sternum.

“Oh stop, you know you’re loving this.” He quips, eyes never leaving the road but a bright smile on his face nevertheless.

He was right, you were loving this, every moment of it. The feeling of freedom, completely careless as you let the summer air wash over your face and through your hair, with your best friend by your side. It’s a sensation like no other and you never want to feel anything less thrilling than this. It’s like getting a present when it’s not your birthday, like diving into the silky-smooth water of a backyard swimming pool, like running through the crowded streets on the 4th of July with a sparkler in hand, its fiery stars glowing in your wake. Letting go completely without worrying about being reprimanded or punished for being human, for wanting to feel, to live. It’s intoxicating and the energy within you has your limbs buzzing, your entire body shaking with pure glee. You let your arm hang loosely outside of the car window, face blissed out and heart fuzzy. Brian glances out of his peripheral, smiling at your content state. He averts his eyes back to the street before him, making sure he’s headed in the right direction.

“Told you.” He smirks, still focusing on the fluorescent traffic lights above him. You roll your eyes, bringing your arm back into the car and searching for a familiar sight down this unfamiliar street.

“Where are we going exactly?” You ask, voice noticeably uneasy.

“It’s a surprise.” He mumbles, smile teasing. You roll your eyes again, shaking your head incredulously. The car suddenly lurches forward and takes a hard left. You brace yourself against the dashboard and look to Brian with wide eyes.

“We’re here.” He says with a grin, yanking the keys from the ignition and stepping out of the car without another word. You take a deep breath, still dazed from the near car accident. He knocks on your window, gesturing for you to get out and follow him. You exhale and momentarily regret every action that had led you to this point before hopping out of the car and following Brian, his curls shining under the flickering orange street light. You put in a great deal of effort to catch up to him, his long legs easily carrying his weight in long strides.

“Slow down, tall ass.” You call out from a few feet behind him.

“Speed up, short ass.” He responds, turning around to meet your flustered gaze. He stops, allowing you to catch up and jerks his thumb to the right.

“This is it.” He says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, awaiting your response. You move your body to look behind him and raise a questioning brow.

“A park?” You ask, a bemused expression painting your face.

“Yes, a park. It’s really nice at night and it’s always empty around this hour. I come here when I need to get away, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to say you need the same.” He explains, grabbing your hand and leading you through the gated entrance, which is open after midnight for some ungodly reason.

“Yeah, yeah.” You mumble, letting him lead you to the destination he has in mind with little resistant.

“Do you ever look at the stars?” He asks quietly, stopping and sitting down on a particularly lush area of grass and clovers.

“Um, not often. But I’ve seen them, yes” You giggle, sitting down next to him, your knee pressing against his bony one. He laughs, laying back with his hands behind his head, gesturing for you to do the same. You do, mimicking his actions and looking forward to what he has in store. Brian’s a simple man, but he’s clever and uses that to his advantage.

“Well, you should make it routine. Good for the soul.” He explains, green eyes admiring the speckled sky above him.

“Maybe I will, Mr. Astrophysicist.” You quip, giggling as you try to take his suggestion seriously.

“I mean it. Takes you away for a minute. Reminds you that there’s more. That you’re not so alone here.” He whispers, eyes catching the reflections of the glowing orbs looming above you both.

You’re quiet for a moment, taken aback, then hum in acknowledgement, trying to take in the night sky in a way similar to him. He’s quiet for a moment, then inhales rather sharply before breathing out, as if he’s nervous to speak.

“Why do you think your parents are the way there are?” He asks, quietly and cautiously, afraid you may take offense. You suck your lower lip between your teeth, eyebrows drawn in thought.

“I dunno. Could be a lot of things. I’m their only kid. Maybe they don’t want to lose me. Maybe they just need something to control. If I knew why, I think I’d know true peace.” You laugh dryly, eyes downcast and mouth drawn in a tight line. He nods, eyes still averted towards the stars.

“I think it’s the control thing. They feel so out of control when it comes to everything else and you’re an easy target, considering you’re their kid and all.” He says, still gazing up at the expanse of the dark sky, eyes visibly darting in all directions. You hum, closing your eyes and breathing in.

“I just wish it was different. I feel so disconnected from them. They’re both like teachers or coaches, not parents. Everything’s so dull. I just wish they could let go for a bit, just to see what it’s like.” You say, expressing feelings you’ve harbored for much longer than you care to admit.

“Yeah.” He mumbles, removing a hand from under his head and gripping the one you have lain across your stomach. You squeeze back, grinning slightly.

“It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” He mumbles, bringing your hand up to kiss the knuckles. You nod, feeling warmth return to your chest and a familiar flutter in your gut.

***

“Where to next?” Brian asks as he folds his long legs in order to fit into the car, turning to you expectantly once he’s comfortable. You raise your brows and let out a breathy laugh.

“Thought you had that covered, May?” You say, leaning back in your seat.

“I did, up until the park. Your turn.” He smiles, jamming the keys into the ignition and twisting, the car spitting momentarily before revving to life.

“Anywhere but my house.”

“On it.”

***

You recognize the route Brian is taking in only a few minutes, smiling to yourself at how transparent he could be at times.

“Your house, really? Are you trying to make your parents punish you?” You ask, laughing as you study your watch, nearly two o’clock in the morning at this point.

“They’re not home. I wouldn’t consciously bring a friend over this late. I’m not stupid.” He mocks, sticking his tongue at you. You sneer playfully, pushing his shoulder lightly, the protruding bone sharp against your palm.

“What’s so interesting at your house that it’s the only place you thought to go?” You giggle, cocking your head to the side in question.

“Told you I didn’t plan too far ahead.” He huffs, giving you an exaggerated frown. “Besides, it’s much better than your house.” He chuckles, pointing a long finger at you.

“Touché.”

***

You run before Brian, beating him to the door and letting yourself in. He shakes his head, locking his car and following you.

“Where is she?” You ask, poking your head around the cozy living room.

“And who may you be referring to?” He questions, tossing his keys onto the glass coffee table and plopping down onto the couch.

“Oh, don’t play dumb. The cat.” You huff, still searching diligently for Brian’s fiery red kitten.

“I dunno. She’s gotten really good at hiding.” He shrugs, smile playing at his lips as he watches you flip over throw pillows and look behind furniture too heavy to move. A small meow steals your and Brian’s attention and you squeal in delight, immediately scooping up the ten-week-old kitten and placing a loving kiss to her head. She purrs, perching herself upright in your arms to look around from the new angle.

“Still no name?” You question, noticing her green nameplate still blank.

“No, can’t think of a good one.” He answers, hands toying absentmindedly with frayed threads of a nearby blanket.

“Well, let’s go up to your room and put on some records. Sometimes I get inspired by a good song.” You smile, already climbing the stairs, the kitten still wrapped in your warm embrace. Brian chuckles, standing up and following you hastily.

“How bout this one?” You ask, already arms deep in Brian’s vast vinyl collection.

“Looks good.” He mumbles, not really hearing you, much too focused on your form sitting idly on his carpeted floor; eyes bright and excited, a new energy to your movements, a new light that Brian hopes never dulls. You smile, placing the record clumsily onto the turntable and flicking the needle down; climbing up onto Brian’s bed, cat in your arms.

“Alright.” You breathe, laying down onto the plush comforter beneath you, Brian following suit. You hum quietly to the song’s lyrics, fingers running lightly through the cat’s orange fur.

“Anything?” He asks, smiling as he crosses one long leg over the other.

“No.” You huff, closing your eyes before allowing a smile to overtake your features.

“S’alright, maybe we’ll just call her Kitty.” He mumbles, reaching over the pet the kitten’s head.

You hum, looking down lovingly at the small animal in your arms, purring softly as she drifts off into a peaceful cat nap. You look up at Brian, who’s still focused on the kitten perched atop your chest. You pick her up gingerly, placing her sleeping form onto the carpet, where she promptly wakes up and scurries quickly out of the room. He furrows his brows, eyeing you carefully as you sit up and cross your legs.

“Bri?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you, for doing this. I really needed it.” You say, smiling wide and reaching to grip his hand tight.

He returns your gaze, bringing your knuckles to his lips for the second time within the span of a few hours. You breathe in sharply, the contact still foreign.

“Of course. I like you this way.” He hums, his fingers fiddling with the rings wrapped around yours. You purse your lips and furrow your brows in question.

“What’d ya mean?” You laugh, confused by his statement.

“Ya know, like this. Careless, not worried about your parents. Nothing holding you back. It’s you, and I only ever want to see you like this. You’re so beautiful like this.” Brian mumbles, eyes widening minutely when he registers the words that tumbled from his mouth. You choke, eyes wide in shock.

“Beautiful?”

Brian doesn’t hesitate to nod, sitting up and grabbing both your hands in his.

“Yeah, beautiful. So bright and so happy. Your eyes are different, they aren’t scared or hesitant. They’re bright. This is the person you’re meant to be. You’ve got so much to give and so much to do, so much ahead of you. Being able to see you like this, for the first time, makes me love you more than I ever thought I could. It was always there, you just had to let go.” He breaths, cheeks red and eyes glossy. You can’t speak, completely stunned by his words.

It’s what you’ve always wanted, to be seen as careless and free, beautiful in your natural state of humanity. Hearing that you’ve got it, you’ve finally done it, is overwhelming and you bite your lip with enough force to draw blood.

“Thank you, Brian. For being so good to me. For showing me how good life is. I didn’t think it could be this nice, that I could be this happy. Just…thank you. I love you, and I don’t want to be afraid anymore. Don’t wanna be afraid of anything.” You smile, voice watery and filled with a loving fondness.

Brian’s chest feels full and fuzzy, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. He feels grateful, happy he met you, happy you’re here now, sat with him on his twin bed, surrounding by the scratchy melodies playing from the corner. With no hesitation, Brian grabs your face and presses his parted lips to yours. Your hands immediately grip his shirt, afraid if you let go, you’ll float away. His hands move from your cheeks and card through your hair, moving it from your face, wanting nothing to bar him from you. You pull away, sucking in a sharp breath and smiling like a fool.

“Fuck.” He breathes, pulling you closer by your hips. You nod, skin hot, the metal of your necklaces cooling you. He kisses you again, gripping your hips desperately, wanting to feel all of you. He pulls away and you boldly climb into his open lap, lacing your legs around his waist. His eyes go wide, an anxious innocence glazing over them.

“I’m not afraid of anything anymore, remember?” You smile, thumbs brushing over his swollen lower lip. He nods, smiling before wrapping his long, delicate arms around you.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to kiss these lips.” He whispers, running two fingers over them to emphasize his pure want for you.

“I could venture a guess.” You quip, voice cracking as he nips at the skin of your neck, the sensation sending heat straight to your lower stomach. You bury your hands in his hair, gripping softly at the roots; the groan that leaves his lips encouraging you to move against him. He pulls away, satisfied with his work; running a ringed hand over your neck and clavicle in admiration.

“So fuckin’ pretty.” He whispers, toying with the first button of your shirt. You brush his hand away, quickly making work of the baby blue buttons and tossing the blouse aside. Brian’s eyes widen, and his pupils visibly dilate, mouth suddenly growing dry at the sight of your near naked chest.

“Touch me, Bri.” You beg, eyes closed in concentration as you continue to move against him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him closer. He obeys, hands immediately running over the material of your bra, admiring the faint rise and fall of your chest, the occasionally freckle or mark painting your skin, the curve of your breasts; all these factors establishing you in his mind as a goddess among men.

“God, fuck.” He curses, feeling himself grow painfully hard under your ministrations, your hands gripping the hair at the nape of his neck is also no help. You’re panting desperately, silently begging Brian to continue. He must read you well because he quickly removed his shirt and reaches around to fiddle with the clasp of your bra. Much to your surprise, it snaps open with little trouble and if it were possible, Brian’s pupils dilate further at the sight of your bare chest. His hands are trembling as they slide up your sides, cupping your breasts before he slowly brings his mouth to your right nipple, circling the tip of his tongue around your it before taking it in his mouth, nipping then soothing the skin with his cool saliva.

“God, Brian.” You moan, hands gripping his bare shoulders for leverage. He places open mouthed kisses around your chest, giving each breast ample attention before pulling back, a smug grin on his face.

“Making me feel so good, baby.” He groans, hands guiding your movements over his clothed cock.

“Let me taste you.” You whimper, hands grabbing at the material of his trousers.

He leans back on his hands, allowing you to climb off of his lap and crawl over him, stopping just above his hips. You carefully, run your hand over the bulge, curious as to what his reaction will be. He hisses, hips shifting impatiently. Your thighs clench together involuntary watching the boy below you react to your touch and your touch alone. You grip the zip of his trousers with your thumb and forefinger, pulling it down at an agonizing pace, sultry eyes never leaving his wild ones. His jaw sets painfully, sweat beading then falling from his temple. He has to bite back a soft whimper when you pull his trousers down, then all the way off.

He feels vulnerable, but he isn’t afraid. He’s happy that you’re seeing him this way and he’s happy he gets to see you this way. You look back to him after flinging his pants to the side, eyes hooded, and plush lips parted. He nearly groans at the sight of you so beautiful above him, confident and undeniably sexy, if not painfully so. You remove your own shorts, only two layers separating you two now.

You run your hand slowly over his clothed length, taking note of the precum state visible at the tip. You toy with the waistband and he whines impatiently, bucking his hips in search of friction. You tut, bringing your face closer to his crotch and hooking two fingers under the hem of his boxers. You’re still surprised by your confidence throughout this entire situation. You pull them down and immediately your heart falls to your stomach. He’s big, and your nervous for the first time in the last half hour. He notices this, sitting up to place a sweet kiss on your lips, hand brushing hair delicately from your sweaty face.

“We don’t have to.” He whispers, lips millimeters from yours; so close you can taste him, sweet like cherries and lemonade, like summertime.

“I want to.” You respond, pressing your lips to his feverishly, gripping his cock softly in your hand and biting his lower lip as you pull away, lowering your face slowly.

“Fuck.” He breaths, watching you intently as you give his cock an experimental lick, hand still pumping him.

“Please.” He whimpers, hands trembling as they grip the sheets with all the strength they’re capable of. You comply, closing your lips around him, placing one hand on his thigh, the other around what you can’t fit in your mouth. Your studying his face through your thick lashes, searching for his reactions to your movements, noting what he likes and doesn’t. You hollow your cheeks and he lets out a long moan, brushing hair from your face and keeping his hand there to guide you.

“So good, baby. Fuck.” He pants, grip tightening in your hair. His words give you a boost of confidence, pride blooming in your chest as your speed up your movements, head bobbing in tandem with the movement of your hand. Brian groans, his head lolling to the side and eyes rolling back in ecstasy. You hollow your cheeks again and Brian unexpectedly pulls your mouth from him, chest heaving and sheathed in a light layer of sweat. You look to him, confused, lips wet and swollen, more beautiful than you’ve ever been. He kisses you, pulling you back into his lap, fingers burying themselves below the hem of your underwear.

“Sorry, hun. Don’t wanna cum until I feel you.” He breaths, flipping you over onto your back, drawing an airy giggle from you. Brian’s cock twitches at the sight of you beneath him; eyes hooded, lips swollen and parted, arms stretched above your head, and body willing, begging for only him.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He groans, kissing down the length of your body, stopping abruptly above where you need him most. You moan at the sight of him between your legs, lazy smirk and hands gripping your thighs with a bruising strength. He presses a chaste kiss just above the hem, studying the way you squirm and write beneath him, desperate and needy.

“Can I taste?” He asks, fingers already tugging at the flimsy material.

“God, yes. Please.” You whimper, your hips bucking involuntarily under his hold. He smiles, hooking two fingers under the elastic before pulling them down slowly, eyes never leaving your writhing form. He brings himself back up, groaning as he dips his fingers into your heat, absolutely soaked.

“Such a pretty pussy.” He breaths, kissing your pubic bone as his lithe fingers continue to glide through your folds, reveling in the feeling of how wet you are for him. You moan, an unbelievable pressure building steadily in your abdomen.

“Please, Brian. Do something.” You whine, gripping his hair in an attempt to coax him towards your aching clit.

“What do you want me to do, baby?” He coos, fingers swirling around your clit, the pressure sending a shock all the way up your spine and back down again.

“Use your mouth, please.”

He doesn’t hesitate, delving between your folds, lapping at your clit like a man starved. You’re trembling beneath him, hands gripping anything in your near vicinity and hips grinding against Brian’s mouth. The feeling of his lips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thigh, his curls tickling your lower tummy; It’s divine, a pleasure like no other and you clench around nothing, so close to climaxing.

“So close, Bri.” You moan, mind too foggy to register when he pulls his mouth from you. You look up, huffing at the loss of contact as you watch him slip a condom over his painfully hard length.

“Sorry, love. Want you to come on my cock.” He breaths, pressing his lips to your sin a needy, sloppy kiss; his hands placing your legs over his hips before settling between them. He locks eyes with you, suddenly very serious.

“You sure?” He asks, brushing a strand of hair from your face, an act of pure love. You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck, taking in his sloped, elegant features before answering.

“Never wanted anything more.” You smile, bringing your lips to his in a kiss conveying something along the lines of pure want and pure love.

He nods, suddenly very nervous as he lines his cock up with your entrance and slips in slowly. The stretch is uncomfortable but not particularly painful and you remind yourself to breath as he continues. You gasp at the hallway point, gripping his shoulders and throwing your head back. He stalls, afraid he’s hurt you. It’s taking everything in him to hold back, the feel of your walls wrapped around his cock bringing him to the edge faster than he’d like. You moan, digging your heels into the skin of his lower back, begging him to continue.

“Don’t stop, feels good.” You breathe, lifting your hips in an attempt to meet his. He nods, and continues, gripping the sheets around your head to ground himself. He bottoms out, the two of you releasing a broken moan in tandem. Your breathing is labored, walls fluttering around his cock without restraint.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last long if you keep doing that.” He groans, his head falling into the crook of your neck.

“Move, Bri.” You whine, swirling your hips.

He does, bringing his cock all the way out before pushing back in. You both watch the space at which your bodies connect in awe. The only sounds are your mixed, tangled breathing and broken moans. The sound of skin against skin, and a rock album spinning idly in the corner. Brian soon adopts a brutal pace, his cock brushing all four walls, hitting a spot that has you crying out, moaning loudly.

“Fuck, Bri. I’m close.” You whimper, holding him tight. He grips your left leg, bringing it from his hip to rest against your abdomen, spreading you wider and allowing him to reach an entirely new angle within you. You nearly scream, mouth agape in a silent moan. You’re panting, struggling to catch your breath as Brian pounds into you.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You whisper, all air choked from your lungs.

“Cum for me, babe. Cum on my cock.” He growls, bringing his hand to rub frantic circles over your clit. You moan, long and fractured, your walls clenching around Brian with a vice-like grip. He groans, thrusts growing sloppy as he chases his high, you still reeling from your orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m close.” He groans, leaning back and pushing both your legs up, watching how he disappears inside of you.

“Come on, Bri. Let me feel you.”

His hips stutter and his movements still, groaning as he spills inside of the condom. Moving his hips in small, languid motions for a just a moment after. He pulls out slowly and you whimper at the loss. You both remain still, taking a moment to regain control of your breathing. You’re smiling up at him and he’s smiling down at you, both of you glowing under a post-coital sheen. Brian sighs, moving to discard the spent condom and rejoining you on the bed. He wraps his long, strong arms around you and lays his head against your naked chest. You sigh contentedly, running a hand through his sweaty curls.

“You think your mom will be mad to see you’re not in your bed when she goes to wake you up?” He asks, smiling against your skin.

“That’s a problem for the morning.” You breathe, chest rumbling with soft laughter.

“It is morning.” He says, smiling as he points to the clock hung over his dresser, which reads six a.m. You groan, laying your head back and rubbing your tired eyes with your thumb and forefinger.

“Well, that’s a problem for later. Just wanna lay with you right now.” You sigh, snuggling into his side, pressing soft kisses to his neck and chest.

“Want you to lay here too.” He mumbles, throwing a blanket over your naked bodies and pulling you as close as humanly possible, breathing you in, wanting to remember every minute detail when he’s without your presence.

“Autumn.” You suddenly mumble, voice muffled in his chest, and he raises his heavy head in question.

“What?” He asks, squinting his eyes and chuckling at your seemingly sleeping state.

“Think you should name the kitten Autumn.” You whisper, half asleep, eyes closed delicately.

“I think I just might.” He answers, settling back into his previous position. You hum, a lazy smile on your face as you give in to a much-needed rest. The room is heavy with love, the thick fog permeating throughout, evidence of what you both cherish so much.

The orange sun is close to breaking the horizon and for the first time in maybe your entire life, you don’t really care about how your parents will react to your disobedience come morning.

- read my other fics here!

#brian may #brian may imagine #brian may x you #brian may x reader #brian may smut #queen #queen smut #queen imagines #queen band #smut

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softspokentulip · 5 years

Text

circadian darling

chae hyungwon x gender neutral!reader

fluff, speckles of angst; “soulmate au where soulmate marks can manifest in various ways: from first words to flower blooms, anything can guide you to your soulmate - the only other person in the world whose mark matches your own perfectly. these marks can be clear as day, or they can be much more subtle.

however, in rare cases, where the mark might be too subtle, it is possible to have two kinds of marks, one of which manifests later in life. this is generally seen in cases where one type of mark isn’t enough to find your soulmate.

you are one such case. (you just don’t know it.)”

word count: 7926

It is… 3:24 AM.

You never intend to pull all-nighters. Some nights it’s harder to ignore the feeling of wakefulness than others. Like tonight, which finds your body exhausted from a long day, your eyes struggling to keep open, but your mind unable to just shut up.

This is how it’s been your entire life. You’ve long since given up on finding ways to make yourself fall asleep: that one trick people swear up and down works like a charm has, at most, made you yawn. You’ve had enough warm milk and soothing teas to last you a lifetime. Playlist after playlist of calming music, rain audio, and even hypnosis videos do nothing for you. On nights like these, it’s easier (and less stressful) to wait for dawn, go about your daily business, and take a nap if you can while the sun watches over you.

And you hate it.

You hate that falling into bed is a gamble every night of whether you’ll get some rest. You hate the fatigue that haunts you most days; you hate the sympathy from friends, family, and strangers alike. They already pity you enough when they find out you’re markless - can’t you get a break from being poor (y/n)?

3:26 AM glows bright red against your skin.

Evidently not.

A paper cup is set down in front of your face. “Rough night again?”

You lift your head from where it rests atop your arms, tired gaze rising to settle on a familiar - sympathetic - face. Instead of answering, you grab the cup and bring it to your lips. The bitterness burns your tongue, jolting you alert. Nyx cringes from where she stands beside the table, as if she’d taken the sip herself. “Jesus, how do you drink that crap?”

A chuckle bubbles out of you, sounds as resigned as you feel. “It wakes me up fast.”

“You know, with creamer wakes you up just as quickly. Though, I guess the taste probably helps.” She nods to herself as you take another swig, the taste less shocking with each swallow. “Well, it’s your taste buds anyway, not mine.”

You place the half-drained cup back down in front of you, and she looks like she wants to say something. “It’s not too bad once you get used to it,” you interrupt. “The first sip is the worst. Shouldn’t you be working?” Sure enough, glancing towards the counter grants you the sight of one of her coworkers impatiently watching your table. They look about ready to drag her back. She must follow your gaze because you hear her swear under her breath before brushing off her apron.

“Right. Just, before I forget-” she rests a hand on your shoulder, and the ink sheep on her wrist blinks its eyes at you. You distantly observe that its outline is a lighter shade of black than usual. Huh. “Are you gonna be okay for the concert? If you end up feeling too tired that day, we don’t have to go.” The sheep’s head droops at her words, and a quick peek at her expression shows a hint of resignation. And you’re not a fool; you can take a hint.

So you smile and shake your head. “I’ll be fine. You’ve been looking forward to seeing Monsta X for months. I can handle being a little drowsy.”

Nyx doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but the coworker from before calls out her name and she takes a step back. “Alright. But please, if it gets worse, go see a doctor!” Her shout draws a few curious eyes, and you can see the red on her cheeks even from here. You roll your eyes, but hold your thumb up nonetheless. She smiles, satisfied, before turning and rushing behind the counter.

You smile to yourself, too. You’re happy knowing she’ll be meeting her soulmate soon.

Then your attention returns to your coffee and you frown.

The things you have to do just to stay awake.

The young child, whose scraped knee has been long forgotten, stares at you with wide eyes, equal parts curious and nervous. “Um,” his voice comes out small, but you’ve grown used to it by now. “I’m sorry you don’t have a soulmate.”

And who said kids can’t be cruel? Still, you know his heart is in a good place - plus older people have said about the same much crueler. The sting to your heart is laughably ignorable. “It’s okay, Charlie. I don’t mind it. I can focus on myself, and it’s not as if I can’t be loved. I have my friends and my family, right?.” You swipe the alcohol pad across the bleeding scrape and immediately blow cool against it when he whines.

“Mhm.” He responds, though he keeps staring at your hands. With a fond smile, you show him a selection of band-aids and happily apply the Hello Kitty one he chooses over his knees. Charlie finally starts again when you gesture that he’s good as new, and that he can go rejoin his friends. “Can I draw on you? Maybe your soulmate is lost and needs help finding you!”

That makes your heart ache. Kid, I’ve tried that all my life. But he’s only six years old, he doesn’t understand that this is final yet, so you smile instead. “Of course. Let’s go find a marker.”

Your voice echoes hollow, but he doesn’t seem to notice past his glee.

It is 6:15 PM when something.. wet? scrawls across the skin of your left forearm.

The wind from your car’s air conditioner rolls over whatever it is, cooling it as soon as it drags across you, and, rightfully alarmed, you let out a confused hm and turn away from your phone call to inspect it.

And you swear your heart stops beating.

“What is it?” Nyx’s voice reaches through the static, but you don’t hear her.

Because, just inches from the smiling red heart Charlie had drawn on your palm earlier today, in bold black ink and unfamiliar handwriting, - and an entirely different language - is something you definitely did not write.

안녕하세요?

“(y/n)? Everything alright?”

Oh fuck that feels weird, the ink starts shifting on its own; the letters reshaping themselves, and the closest you can describe the sensation is the feeling of fingertips trailing along your arms so gently, as if in awe of you. And when the feeling subsides, when the new letters settle against your skin, your mind draws a blank.

Hello?

“I,” you struggle to be clear and concise, to talk in something louder than a whisper. You can hardly hear yourself, you doubt Nyx can. “I’m coming over.”

“Now?!”

“Now.”

If you flinched even the smallest bit, you could smack her in the forehead with how close Nyx is holding your arm to her face.

(And the only reason the temptation isn’t there is because you’re preoccupied wondering what the hell is going on.)

Her eyes are so wide, you would worry about them rolling right out of her head if you weren’t just as wide-eyed, fighting back years’ worth of pent-up tears threatening to make an appearance.

“Why do I recognise this?” She mumbles.

“I did not write this my-”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” She hurries to elaborate, looking up at you with teary eyes of her own. Her grip tightens around your wrist and elbow, and she gives your arm a small shake. “I believe you, (y/n). But this - this is fucking weird. Why did your soul mark develop now, instead of all those years ago? How? I don’t.. This doesn’t make any sense.” The uncertainty in her voice clenches your heart until it feels like it’ll shatter apart. You pull your arm free from her grip and hold it against your chest, as if cradling the mark.

“I don’t know either! If you haven’t noticed, neither of us is majoring in soul studies!”

Nyx deflates at your frustration, sheepishness clear in the tremble of her lips. You take a deep breath, a moment to wipe at your still unshed tears, and the dark letters catch your attention. It’s almost funny, how a single word could turn your world upside down. With a shuddering sigh, you bring your arm to your lips and kiss the message. It tastes of hope. “Please be real,” you whisper, voice muffled against the ink.

Your friend hops to her feet abruptly, quickly stealing your attention back. There’s an excited fire in her eyes. “We have to go see a soul mark analyser! They’ll probably know what’s going on, right?” A chill settles in your bones, old and too familiar. You remember all too well your last experience with an analyser - which had started just as everyone else’s but ended with no good news, with none of the comforts you had been promised. You still remember the way your mother had wept as she cradled you, but you don’t know if she’d been trying to protect you or herself from the truth. You remember the unique and mortifying experience of giving your good friend the news in class the next day, how she hadn’t quite understood the first time, just like you hadn’t.

Your discomfort must be obvious, or maybe Nyx knows you well, because she takes your hand and gives a reassuring squeeze. “We don’t have to go.” But you should. “I won’t let you go alone, but we don’t have to go at all.” You should.

A hush falls over the room as she waits for your answer. For a few seconds, you seriously consider declining. You don’t want to get your hopes up only for a soulmate - your soulmate - to be ripped away from you again. It had been easier to come to terms with it because your hopes had been crushed so young, you could spend your developing years accepting it. If it happens again, will the pain be too fresh to heal from?

But then you look back at your mark, at the questioning greeting on your arm, and you remember the ghost of a lover’s touch, the tingling warmth that had started small but wasted no time encompassing your entire being. Your heart leaps, soars through cloud nine and all the other clouds around it, and you have to make sure this is real.

“We’ll go.”

It is 1:43 AM, as you scroll through stories on your phone, that you realize you never tried to respond.

How easily you forget the fatigue weighing you down. Careful not to make too much noise, you slip out of bed and find your way through the dark to Nyx’s writing desk, grabbing a pen before creeping out of her room.

You sit down in the hallway, right beside the bedroom door, and pull the cap off. You don’t let yourself think long, fully aware that you’ll fill yourself with doubt if you do.

Hello? Are you really there?

And you wait. You’d forgotten your phone inside, and you don’t want to risk waking her by going to get it, so you sit in silence, staring at the wall across from you. What’s a few minutes alone with your thoughts?

It feels like centuries crawling along, too slow. You almost want to cry; were you wrong? Did you truly not have a soulmate and had just gotten your hopes up? You’d heard stories of people exhibiting false soul marks, usually caused by a soul unable to accept the loss of their soulmate. Could the same happen to those who never had soulmates to begin with? Was your heart aching so deeply for a soulmate, even now? You thought you’d long since accepted the fact, so why was this happening to you?

Did you accept that? Yes, you’d brushed it aside, buried it, lived with it since you were eight years old. And of course you were devastated during your adolescent years, but you’d persevered. You were stronger now, weren’t you?

Another moment’s silence with no response saw you sighing as you rubbed the corners of your eyes and told yourself it was because of drowsiness. You were about ready to retreat to bed to force yourself to sleep, but then you felt it. The faint touch of a pen tip - not your own - pressing your skin. Without another thought, you focused on the new ink slowly drawing itself out on your arm. Syllables formed words you didn’t recognize, and once the writing stopped, they began to trace into new letters, which formed words you did.

Finally. You kept me waiting, darling.

Tears suddenly burst forth, drip-dripping onto your arm, and the words smear the tiniest bit. You scramble to pat yourself dry, staining your pajama shirt in the process, before hurrying to respond.

You’re real. I can’t believe you’re real. And you kiss your words, hoping they can somehow feel your lips.

A much shorter wait before new words bloom, feeling like a gentle brush of another’s lips. Of course I’m real. Why are you crying?

They’re happy tears. I didn’t think I had a soulmate. You take a deep breath. I think my soul missed you, even though I didn’t know you.

Three taps appear as miniscule dots on your skin, and you can’t help but laugh and wonder what they look like when they’re thinking.

I’ve always been here.

And I missed you too.

Exactly seven days later finds Nyx driving you to the clinic of one Dr. Valerie Luneiros, a soul mark analyser that works a town over - and the only one in the area who could fit you into their schedule so soon. You weren’t driving - at Nyx’s insistence: “You should be as stress free as possible.” Which was honestly a nice sentiment, one you were sure you’d appreciate.

Except you couldn’t possibly be more stressed out.

You’d been chatting pretty steadily with your soulmate for a few days after that first night. It had been a lot of fun, learning more about each other, establishing a comfortable dynamic. On more than one occasion, after discovering that anything that could be used to find one another would erase itself from your arms, you’d playfully tried to find ways to circumvent that. Naturally, none of them worked, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to mind. Being able to just talk and joke with someone in a way only you could was the most precious thing in this world to you.

(It should have worried you how quickly you’d grown attached, but again, you couldn’t find it in yourself to mind.)

But then, a few minutes after the clock struck 8 PM four days ago, you’d received a message: I’ll be away for a while. Good luck with the analysis.

And that had been the last response you’d gotten. At first, the silence wasn’t so bad. You still had a life to live, after all. Your days were too busy to feel impatient, and you spent your nights either resting fitfully or keeping your mind off the lack of messages with work and stories. When your patience had finally run out, during one night when you’d been unable to sleep and were uninterested in any of your usual distracting tasks, you’d written them a simple Hope everything is okay. And you would’ve been fine, even without a reply, but when it had promptly disappeared, anxiety lunged and wrapped around you like a serpent around its prey.

Was your soulmate all right? Were they safe? You tried not to worry too much, comforted yourself with the trust that they would explain their radio silence once they returned.

But four days is a lot of time to ruminate.

And on top of that, a soul analysis clinic was definitely the last place you ever wanted to set foot in. The scent of sterilization and marginally too-strong citrus was too fresh in your memory, made you nauseous at the mere thought. The first expression of pity ever directed at you was forever burned into your brain, a wound once covered now unveiled and festering. You could still feel the cracking of your little heart once you understood what you’d been told, once you understood why your mother was crying.

Thoughtlessly, you bring your fingertips to trail along your forearm, tracing the ghosts of letters long washed away.

The faint sensation of fingers stroking on the other side brought you calm for at least the rest of the car ride.

Dr. Luneiros’ clinic smells of hot chocolate.

And to give them more credit, Dr. Luneiros themself is incredibly patient throughout your very unhelpful and highly confused explanation of what’s going on. They nod calmly along, take down notes diligently, and offer you comforting smiles whenever you need to pause. And when they ask if you could go more in depth about your soul mark history, they make it clear you can say no. So despite the anxiety about being in a place like this, you’re grateful that Nyx suggested coming here in the first place.

But when they ask questions about your sleep schedule, - completely out of left field - you wonder for a moment if this is somehow an elaborate plan to get your possible insomnia problem checked out. Though when you glance Nyx’s way, ready to chew her out, she seems as confused as you feel. As you spill the details, - some of which has your friend gasping, like the time you’d spent three full days asleep - they jot down more notes and nod the more you share. They sort of resemble a bobblehead, actually!

Until they suddenly smile wide and let out an “I see,” When they set their pen down and rest their stare on you, there’s a shocking amount of joy in their eyes, the constellations on their right cheek pulsing a bright golden glow. “I know what’s going on.” They say so simply, as if those five words don’t knock you out of orbit and leave your mind struggling to wrap around the fact that this makes sense to someone.

“First of all, I’d like to apologize for the analyser that saw you when you were younger - and have a word with him. Every analyser knows no one is born without a soulmate. Though this kind of mark was discovered fairly recently, so I suppose I can understand how he missed the signs.” Dr. Luneiros stops themself from rambling on when they spot your confusion. “Right, anyway. (y/n), it’s not that you didn’t have a soulmate and now suddenly do. You’ve had one all your life; you just didn’t know how to look for them.”

Your heart leaps into your throat and settles, choking your voice when you finally manage to ask, “What?”

They nod, as if you’d said something to nod at. “As you know, soul marks can manifest in various forms, such as on your body, as physical objects, or even in your head.” And it’s your turn to nod, because you’ve known this since you could first remember anything. “Good. Well, they can also manifest so deeply within a person as an effect on one of their bodily functions.”

You’re connecting the dots - and Nyx must be too, because you see her through the corner of your eyes, staring at you with a gradually growing smile.

“It seems your soul mark is present in your circadian rhythm, and that you and your soulmate’s are currently unaligned. Which explains why your sleeping patterns are so irregular.”

Nyx lets out a cheer so loud and hugs you so tightly, you’d think it was her who the news was for. Still, you can’t dwell on it long because your stunned thoughts are screaming just as loudly. I’ve always had a soulmate. The realization fills your aching heart to the brim with relief, and you suddenly want nothing more than for your soulmate to be here with you already. You want to share this excitement with them, want to rejoice alongside them. Fuck, you want to see them in front of your own eyes, hold them with your own hands, kiss them until you run out of breath. Still, there is a lingering confusion that threatens to drown out your joy.

“If that’s the case, then how are we chatting back and forth now?” You hold up your now blank forearm. “I thought people could only have one soul mark.”

The analyser hums. “That’s usually true, yes. However, in special cases such as these, where the initial mark might be too difficult to follow, a second, clearer mark type manifests - generally an indeterminate but short amount of time before the soulmates are destined to meet.” They can barely finish getting the words out of their mouth before Nyx is screaming again and blurring your vision with how suddenly she shakes you.

“Does that mean (y/n) will meet their soulmate soon?!”

Oh, now you really feel lightheaded, and not just because of how much you’re being shaken.

Did you know we’re apparently destined to meet soon?

Washed away.

Is everything okay?

Washed away.

Please answer me.

Washed away.

You know I can see you erasing this, genius. Are you ignoring me?

Washed away after three minutes.

Are you not excited to meet me?

A short pause, before a dark cool line suddenly swipes along your forearm and washes away shortly after.

I am. My makeup artist is too - she wants to strangle you.

A response that draws a laugh out of you, tinged with relief and amusement.

Your makeup artist? Are you a model?

Something like that. You’ll know soon enough.

Oh, mysterious. It’s not illegal, is it? I don’t know how well that lifestyle would suit me.

Please stop writing on Mr. Hyungwon’s arm. You are making my job very difficult.

It’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment, but you don’t blink. You see fragments of what must be a name - their name - and rush to copy what you remember down on a nearby piece of paper. Maybe anything revealing would erase itself, but as you stare down at the name you’d written, you figure that if you remember it yourself, then it should be fine.

And you do remember parts of it. And it looks.. almost familiar.

When you go to write on your arm again, you see your previous conversation has been washed away. Hyuwon? Your question erases itself a second later.

Don’t make me laugh, darling, I’m supposed to sit still.

But close.

With each day that the concert crawls ever closer, sleep finds you easier than the night before. You feel better rested than you ever have. Your taste buds suffer less and less scalding black coffee, and you find yourself more attentive at your work - and throughout the rest of your daily tasks. Five days before the concert, when your outfit finally arrives (talk about a close call) and Nyx insists on coming over to see you model it, she’d sucked in a breath and covered her mouth with her hands, eyes glimmering with sudden tears, when she’d finally seen you since letting herself in. “I’ve never seen you so awake before!” she’d cried.

(Followed by: “And the outfit looks so good on you! You’re gonna turn so many heads, but none of them are gonna be able to do anything about it!”)

The universe, as it turns out, can be as blatantly obvious as it can be painstakingly subtle. Your soulmate is closer to you than ever before, and the likelihood of you meeting them the day of the concert is high. They must be attending from a different country - South Korea, if you had to guess. After all, you’ve determined that Korean is the language your soulmate is originally writing in before the mark translates it.

And you feel a kind of excitement you haven’t felt in years, a rush of butterflies sweeping through your ribcage, wings beating harshly enough to crack bones. You swear your heart swells in size when you so much as think about your soulmate, drumming in harmony with the butterfly wings. It feels like your body has purged itself of a suffocating decay you didn’t know had taken hold, and you’re finally breathing through uncorrupted lungs for the first time. Flames eat away at thorns overgrown but make no moves to burn you, leaving a trail of soft kisses in its wake instead.

It is… so fucking cheesy.

But you can’t find a single part of you that minds. You think this must be what love is, and you hope your soulmate feels it too.

It is, without a doubt, the most expensive hotel lobby you’ve ever been in.

“And you’re certain this is the right place?”

“I’m sure. I’m - he said it would be fancy, but.. God, I feel like we should’ve brought a present.” She rubs over the mark on her wrist, a nervous habit formed years ago, and it brings your attention to two things: one, the sheep is no longer a sheep, but a wolf almost done shedding its disguise, and two, the outline is now almost a stark white. The imagery is.. definitely concerning, but you figure the universe wouldn’t be cruel enough to deem people soulmates that would hurt each other. That doesn’t sit right, and soulmate or not, if the person on the other side of Nyx’s connection even thinks about trying anything, you’re not afraid of setting them and the universe straight.

Anyway, you shift your focus to gauging her reaction. She seems seconds away from exploding, but the fuse is lit with both awe and insecurity, so you’re unsure which will set her off first. “We’re fine, Nyx. Let’s just find our room, okay?” When she nods, you head towards the grand staircase in the center of the room, your bags having been taken care of by an actual bellhop. You can’t help but awe at the chandelier casting an elegant golden light, shadows dancing in the corners of the lobby and adjacent halls. Carefully polished marble floor peeks out from the edges of the intricately patterned scarlet carpet, like you’re a movie star attending a high class debut. You absolutely don’t want to find out how much it costs to stay for the two days and nights her friend had paid for. Nyx had insisted it’d be all right to share, apparently, which led you to believe he’d been willing to pay that time for two rooms. “I couldn’t dream of affording this, holy shit.”

“Please don’t remind me,” she almost whimpered. “I might throw up on all this rich stuff, and then we’d really be in trouble.” Her thumb traced over her mark, and the wolf followed her touch. “I’ll talk to him once we get to our room.”

“Right. Let’s just focus on getting situated.”

That night, at about 10:15 PM, despite how tired you are (and the refreshing lack of underlying wakefulness), you manage to write to them.

So.

So?

I think we’re going to meet tomorrow.

Is there something special about tomorrow?

Kind of. And I have an idea I need to fly by you.

I’m listening, darling.

I want to draw something on my cheek. Something only we would understand.

Interesting. And I assume you want to keep it on all day? Meaning that so will I.

Right. Are you in?

Definitely. I’ll find you tomorrow.

Not if I find you first ♥

Shit, that sounded creepy.

Just a little hahaha

Nyx won’t stop inspecting your face, and it’s honestly making you feel more unsure about the whole idea than you’d like to be.

“Why did you write that?”

You hum, trying to appear calmer than you feel. “For fun.” A silence stretches between you - and glancing at her through the reflection shows you her furrowed eyebrows and small pout. “What, you’ve made worse jokes.” Her response is an instant huff as she crossed her arms over her chest, and there’s a huge visual contrast between her all-dark and mature outfit and the bratty puff of her cheeks. The urge to pinch those cheeks grows, but you doubt she’d appreciate that, so you stay your hand.

“Whatever, my jokes are great.” There’s a playful whine in her voice, and you know she’s not taking the conversation seriously. “Now come on, we have to get there soon if we want to check out the merch! Oh, and to see if there’s any fun little events they have planned!” Her “sour mood” brightens in seconds, and she’s rushing to make sure everything is ready to go. Your gaze returns to your reflection, the fondness in your eyes when you stare at your handiwork not alarming you as much as it would’ve a few weeks ago. Carefully written out in black face paint, you have your way to identify your soulmate.

Hyuwon.

On the drive to the concert hall, words slowly form on your arm that brings laughter to your lips.

I should’ve expected this. You’re ridiculous, darling.

I can’t wait to tell you in person.

That I’m ridiculous? How kind of you.

That I love you.

Hours later, maybe a minute or two after it hits 6 PM, and you’re contemplating what sort of soft pretzel to buy, a drop dead gorgeous concertgoer catches your attention by extending a handkerchief towards you. Confused, you inspect the soft fabric before taking it. “Thanks?” You wonder as you start to pocket it, but they stop you with a laugh and a shake of their head.

“Your makeup’s running a little bit.” To emphasize their point, they tap their cheek.

“My makeup?” Your free hand instinctively imitates their gesture, but nothing stains your fingertips. “What do you-” and it clicks so suddenly, your breath hitches mid-sentence. The Monbebe’s expression flashes bewilderment and your heart plummets, falling so abruptly that you can’t catch it. You shove the handkerchief back into their hands and sprint to the nearest bathroom, forgetting about how long you’d had to wait to be so close to the front of the line. You barely get out an excuse me before you’re gripping the edges of a sink and gazing at your own reflection in one of the many mirrors.

Just in time to see the final letters of what had once been there vanishing.

Ten minutes before the concert starts, as you sit surrounded by the overwhelming energy of hundreds of people, something cold presses your arm.

I’m sorry.

Six minutes later, you bring yourself to respond.

I guess I was wrong.

Two more minutes and your arm is wiped clean. Nyx cheers happily beside you, and you smile when she looks your way.

We aren’t going to meet today.

The lights dim before you can see if your words are gone.

Nyx says something you don’t hear over the screams and music.

“What?” You call, unable to even hear your own voice, and she points towards the stage. Sure enough, when you look back, all of Monsta X is up there, each of them dancing incredibly, and you lose yourself in awe for a moment. One of the taller members radiates such effortless grace, even when he sings, and you can’t drag your attention away from him. His gaze sweeps over your area, almost as if he could sense your own stare, and he makes eye contact for a second. It somehow feels longer, and there’s a calm that falls over you as you smile back at him, waving without a second thought. He must get embarrassed, because you barely see his (indescribably adorable) smile before he’s turning his head away - and then the choreography carries him to the other side of the stage, and you’re reminded that Nyx had been trying to say something.

When you shift your focus back to her, she’s leaning much closer and gesturing between her arm and the member who’d just looked at you - you think. You glance at her arm, and through the strobe lights, you see the wolf on her wrist has rid itself entirely of its sheep costume and is now completely white, with colors seeping into the inner edges of its shape. It wags its tail and seems to bark towards the stage. “Holy shit, Nyx!”

It seems that wasn’t what she was trying to point out, because you see more than hear her groan as she briefly checks her arm. Then she stops before she can look back up - no screaming, no jumping around, no frustration at your not being able to hear her. Nothing. “Nyx?” You brace yourself to catch her just in case, but she stands still, unwavering, gaze slowly lifting to the stage.

The song ends, and as you move to follow her line of sight, you see one member - not the one from before - looking back this way before the lights fade out.

After the concert ends, the world comes crashing down as you wait to get out of the parking lot.

You’re stuck waiting in a too-long line of other cars all trying to get out too, humming the last performed song under your breath and thinking about the man you’d waved at. As much as you tried not to focus solely on him for the rest of the concert, you’d found your gaze repeatedly drawn to him. There was just something that clicked in your head when you watched him, a serenity you’d never felt before (and one you hadn’t expected to feel at a concert, of all places). And more than once, you’d caught him stealing glances towards your side of the stage, though you hadn’t made eye contact again.

Nyx hiccups, and it draws you out of your thoughts. You don’t need to look at her to know she’s all cried out. “How am I ever going to meet him?” She whispers, more to herself than for you, and your heart stills.

The disappointment from earlier rears its head. You’d really been hoping to find your soulmate today. They’d agreed to go along with your idea - hell, they’d loved it, if their reaction was anything to go by. So why didn’t they follow through? Had they gotten cold feet? Did they not feel ready to meet yet?

As you waited, moving your car along inch by agonizing inch, the disappointment slowly gave way to heavy-hearted understanding. A part of you had been anxious at the mere thought of meeting them all day, and though no part of you felt relieved when the word vanished, you were starting to rationalize: maybe it was better this way. Maybe you both just needed more time to get to know each other. Maybe it would be better to decide when you would meet, to discuss and have time to prepare for it. It wouldn’t be so bad, you reasoned, waiting a little longer. You’d been “soulmate-less” most of your life - what was waiting to meet them a few more days, weeks, months?

(Not years. Years would be too much to handle.)

(You’d really miss being able to sleep easily, though.)

“What is meant to be, will be.”

In the passenger seat, Nyx sighs. “Right.”

Right.

It takes thirty minutes to finally reach the hotel, despite what had been a mere five minute drive this morning. Leaving a concert was a nightmare, you decided.

“My legs ache.” She croaked as she tried to massage her thigh.

The image of her jumping excitedly about during the concert makes you chuckle. “Would you look at that, if it isn’t the consequences of your own actions.”

Her eyes are almost entirely shut when she glares at you, and you know she’s nursing a headache. “Shush. Carry me?” As she asks, she lifts her arms towards you as if you’d already agreed.

“No way,” you shoot her down, even though you crouch in front of her. A small cheerful noise comes out of her as she rests against your back, and you grab her thighs as she wraps her legs around your waist. Once she’s situated, you stand back up and start carefully climbing the pompous grand staircase (you hadn’t been able to find the damn elevator). The bag she holds swings back and forth at the movement, and you lift your chin to avoid getting smacked. “We have Tylenol in our room, take it once we get there.”

“Thank you!”

You regret the decision to carry her up all the stairs to reach the floor of your room.

Nyx’s voice is muffled from where you lay with your face pressed into your pillow. “I’m so sorry. I really thought you were gonna put me down at some point.” You raise your head when she presses something cold to your hand and you say a small thank you before taking the water bottle she offers. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

You drink until there’s a slight discomfort in your stomach, then you set the bottle aside and push yourself to sit up. You need to get yourself cleaned up. “I’m fine, just tired. I’m gonna go take a shower, then I’ll probably pass out or something.” You gather your pajamas and make your way towards the bathroom, and pause. With a glance back at her, you see her staring down at her mark, a colorful wolf sleepily curled around her wrist. “You’re meeting your online friend soon, aren’t you?”

She perks up, her gaze lifting to settle on you. “Yeah! He’s exhausted and I am too, and since we’re here for two days, we agreed to meet tomorrow.”

As you close the bathroom door behind you, you hear a knock at the door.

Thankfully, you had a mind to get dressed in the bathroom, because when you step out, there’s a stranger casually conversing with Nyx.

“Hello?” You wave your hand to catch their attention, and when they look at you, they both quickly erupt into shit-eating grins. That’s an expression you know means mischief, so you prepare to slip back into the bathroom and pretend to never have come out, but Nyx is jumping to her feet and hurrying to grab your hands before you do.

“(y/n), this is my soulmate!”

Suspicion melts away, and you smile at the two of them. “Whoa, congratulations! How did -” Getting another look at him, you realize it really is a member of Monsta X. No wonder she wasn’t sure if she’d meet them. “How did he find you?”

She turns to look at him over her shoulder, and even though you can’t see her expression, you just know that it’s full of love. He smiles back at her so softly, like he’s been doing it all his life, and as happy as you are for them, you can’t help but feel like an intruder.

You’re glad to see her so happy, really, you are.

But if you have to spend one more minute in a room with these two when the sting of not having met your own soulmate is still too fresh, you’re gonna burst.

“You don’t have to go, really.” The apology is clear on her face. Behind her, her soulmate - Changkyun, he’d introduced himself - glanced between you and his phone, typing something you vaguely suspect may be about you. You’d asked earlier if there was something on your cheek, since he kept glancing at it, but he’d shaken his head and smiled at Nyx, as if there was a joke you weren’t in on. “Please don’t go just sit next to the vending machine. I feel terrible.”

“You don’t have to,” Changkyun pipes up, setting his phone down on his lap and focusing on you two. “I have a friend who wouldn’t mind you hanging out in his room.”

“Maybe not, but I won’t intrude on a stranger. Besides, I can think of a lot of people who would mind me hanging out with someone from Monsta X so casually.” At that, he snickers, conceding you the point. “I’ll be okay, really. There are some seats and tables set up near the vending machine. I’m not gonna be sitting on the floor. You two have fun, yeah?” You turn to head down the hall - and stop. “Well, not too much fun, please, I have to sleep he-”

The door slams shut, but you can still hear Changkyun’s laughter, muffled as it is.

At 11:59 PM exactly, as you’re watching the decent quality videos you’d taken earlier, the familiar sensation of new ink writing itself out on your arm steals your attention. The words translate faster than ever.

I told you I’d find you today.

You can’t help the scoff that slips out, but while you’re reaching for your own pen, the most melodic laugh to ever grace your ears sounds off from in front of you and your breath catches in your throat. Footsteps slowly approach you, whoever it is (you know who it is) stops just as their legs come into your field of vision. When they crouch, you still can’t quite see their face, but you recognize the outfit (you know who this is). A hand grabs your own, their long fingers tracing shapes over your skin, reaching up until they touch the words (their words - and it feels just like the ink reshaping itself, but so much better because it’s real). You let out a shaky sigh when their other hand gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You can look at me.” A soothing voice whispers, as if they’re as in awe of you as you are of them, and like the sailor allured by the siren, you happily obey.

The first thing you focus on is the fondness swimming deep in his dark brown eyes, and it takes a moment for you to register: that fondness is for you. His lips, plush and pink and oh so kissable are drawn into a soft smile, his head tilted slightly as he tries to get a better look at you. The hair that falls over his eyes is beautiful and so fluffy, you wonder how it would feel to run your hands through it (and pretend not to get flustered at your own train of thought). His touch spreads warmth throughout your body, your heart beating so much faster than is probably healthy, but you really don’t mind. On his own arm, you spot Korean words you’ve never written before, and yet you recognize it as your own handwriting.

He ducks his head a little more, gently coaxing you to look into his eyes again - and holy shit, you recognize him. This is the man from the concert, the one who’d looked at you, the one with the adorable smile and the aura of natural grace.

And there’s that instant, easy tranquility falling over you again.

“I’m sorry.” The hand not holding yours strokes a knuckle over your cheek, the slight furrow of his brows regretful, and you understand what he means. (And you don’t like that almost melancholy look in his eyes.) A smile that mirrors his own tugs at your lips, and you shake your head slowly as you tentatively interlace yours and his fingers. A faint pink kisses his cheeks, and when he flickers his gaze up to lock with yours, you swear there are galaxies lost in his eyes.

Your heart falls again, but this time he’s there to catch it. “It’s okay,” he perks at the sound of his voice, and when his smile softens even more and he looks absolutely smitten, you wonder if that’s how you look, too. “Your makeup artist..?” He nods with a sigh of relief that brushes against your lips. Your cheek grows warmer, which you just know he can feel beneath his hand. (Sure enough, his little chuckle confirms your thoughts.)

His smile somehow grows fonder, and you know you’re in love.

“My name is Hyungwon. Not-” he interrupts himself with a quiet laugh that you lean forward to hear better, nearly pressing your foreheads together. “Hyuwon.”

Laughter comes as easily with him in front of you as it did when he was miles away. “Okay. My name is (y/n.)”

After heading back to his room (which he promised he’s not sharing, so it'd be just the two of you), you lose track of time from how much you guys talk, or just bask in the pure joy of having finally united. However, your body doesn’t.

You don’t expect the yawn that parts your lips, and he says something that sounds a bit like cute. “Tired?” At your nod, he hums before falling into curious silence. (Just as you expected, he looks breathtakingly cute when he’s thinking, his lips forming a small pout as he stares passed you.) Once he must find what he wants to say, he shifts away from the center of the bed and pulls the covers back, patting the mattress. “Sleep with me?”

The offer sincerely warms your heart, the butterflies beating harder against your ribs, and you have no chance to stop the wide smile that comes to your face as you stare at him. I love you so much already, your mind sighs. Your chest feels tight, your heart aches so sweetly, and you don’t mind any of it. The soft yellow of the lamp on his bedside table casts him in an angel’s glow, and not for the first time since you met him, you awe at his beauty. How lucky I am, you muse as you nod and carefully lay yourself down in the spot he’s left you, that you are my soulmate, Hyungwon.

Hyungwon’s posture stiffens a second before he relaxes. He leans over you to turn the lamp off, the trace scent of jasmine and home gently embracing you, and you close your eyes. The light clicks off, he shifts back into his place beside you, and a comfortable silence falls around you. For a few minutes, there’s hardly any movement or sound, just the soft hissing of the humidifier and your own breathing.

The feel of his hand wrapping around yours underneath the blankets startles you half to death. You turn to peer at him through the darkness - only to find he’s already staring at you, his lips quirking into a smile when you make eye contact. He pulls you closer by your joined hands until your faces are so close, your breaths intermingle between you, and then he brings your hand to his lips. The kiss he presses into your skin is delicate and loving, unbelievably so, and when his gaze flickers from your knuckles to your eyes, you nearly gasp at the raw affection you see in them.

“Goodnight, 자기야.”

Though the word sounds unfamiliar, it still warms your heart all the same. “Say that again.”

He raises an eyebrow, his smile turning amused. “자기야?”

“Ja - gi - yah?” You repeat slowly, looking at him to see if you’d said it right. He laughs under his breath, but it’s a fond noise. He props himself onto his elbow and reaches across from you again, grabbing a nearby pen and quickly scribbling it down on his arm. As expected, when you glance at your own arm, the word has written itself out - and rather quickly translated itself.

Darling.

Your heart just about melts. As you turn to stare at him again, he chooses that moment to lean down and press a kiss against your cheek. “Goodnight, 자기야.”

“Goodnight,” you breathe, almost stunned into silence when you meet his eyes.

I love you, they promise.

It’s the best sleep you’ve had in your life.

#monsta x scenarios #monsta x scenario #monsta x soulmate au #hyungwon #hyungwon/reader #this was a lot of fun to write - im an absolute sucker for soulmate aus 💕

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oliveofthenight · 4 years

Text

“Refusing the Stars” a short story by Olive

A queen sat atop her throne, eyes sagging and crown drooping from her head. Seven years. It had been seven years and the problems with the invaders hadn’t been getting better. Seven years since she’d had a decent night’s sleep, without her paranoia spreading like a wildfire within her mind. She sighed deeply, feeling the air in her lungs rush out and back in again, she just had to keep breathing. Her eyes opened briefly as a figure darted into sight. She straightened, eyes narrowing at the figure, but as her mouth opened to spit venom, so did the doors to her throne room and the figure vanished like smoke before her eyes.

The queen slumped again, rubbing her temples with a scowl as she glared at the guards who had interrupted her quiet. She rolled her eyes as they bowed to her. “What is it? Speak quickly, my patience is thin,” she seethed.

The guards exchanged glances as one of them coughed, standing up. “Your majesty, the invaders have returned, they’re doing more than just torching towns this time. They’ve… they’ve made an attack and taken over Lord Hugo’s lands. They’re threatening to lay siege to the capitol if we don’t give in to their demands,” he explained.

There was a cold pit in her stomach as she sat up. “And what are their demands,” she asked warily.

“To give them the southern part of our territory and half of our food supply.” The other guard stood, her head down as if ashamed of the offer.

Silence grew thick and heavy throughout the throne room, before the queen stood up. “My answer is no. I want every general in this throne room tomorrow morning, we’ll discuss our battle plan then.” Walking through them, she began making her way out the door, only being stopped by her guard’s voice.

“Your highness, you can’t be serious! It’s an unwinnable battle! They have thousands of men, hundreds of ships! We-”

She whipped her head around, cutting him off. “You are speaking out of turn, and doing so is treason. But because I am in a generous mood, I will forgive you for your impunity. We will not be cowards. If we give into their demands now, then it will happen again, and again, and again, until there is nothing left of our kingdom. There is only shame for those who bend so easily to another’s will. Is that understood?” She watched the guard cower from her stare and nod. She stepped closer. “I need an answer.”

Metal clanked on the ground as the guard kneeled. “It’s understood, your majesty. Thank you for your generosity and wisdom.”

Satisfied with the answer, she turned her back to them. “Good. Now, I’ll be retiring for the night. You’re both excused.” Her heels struck the ground as a finality before leaving the room. However, as soon as she had turned the corner, she lost her imposing posture. It was becoming harder to maintain her front the more fatigue plagued her body. She trailed her fingers along the walls as she walked, numbly pushing through to her room and to the balcony. The wind rushed to her face, playing with wisps of her hair as she leaned against the balcony’s edge and let out a sigh.

The air was peaceful and calm. It was truly a shame it wouldn’t stay that way.

She snapped back to attention as she felt hands in her hair, removing her crown from her head. Her eyes were met with the vision of purple and starlight as the star spirit placed her crown on the ground, standing back up to face her with a gentle smile. “There. You should really take your crown off more often Lucella, you look gentler without it,” she said.

The queen pinched the bridge of her nose. “Being gentle doesn’t come with being queen, Astraia.”

“Even so, it doesn’t suit you looking so stressed all the time. You’ll get wrinkles if you frown so much,” she giggled, stepping closer to her. Carefully, she laid a hand on Lucella’s cheek. The touch was cold, but inviting all the same. Astraia smiled seeing her lean against the hand. “I remember when you were so small, running around all over the place. Your parents honestly believed you could never run out of energy. I almost believed it myself whenever I played with you.”

Lucella couldn’t help but chuckle at the memories. “They never approved of that, considering you could only play with me at night.”

“Oh, but it was so much fun, wasn’t it? We’d play moon tag, I’d create swords out of stardust to use so we could fight each other. You always won because you faked an injury, being the dirty cheater you are,” she teased. She watched Lucella’s expression change to that of mock offense as her jaw dropped open.

“I was no such thing! There weren’t any rules saying I couldn’t do that, I was just using a smart strategy!” She shot back, lightly nudging her.

Astraia poked her side in retaliation. “A cruel one! Really, you took advantage of my kindness and good nature.” She sniffled, wiping a nonexistent tear from her eye.

Lucella shook her head with a smile. “Hey, isn’t the saying that all’s fair in love and war? Anything was on the table,” She defended herself and crossed her arms.

Their laughter died down for a moment, as the two locked eyes. Astraia leaned against her. “You used to love my stars, too. I’d scatter them around your room when you had trouble sleeping, you always said seeing them reminded you that I’d always be with you,” she lamented as Lucella glanced down at her.

Hesitantly, she placed her hand in Astraia’s hair, twisting the soft and sparkly strands between her fingers. “I still love your stars, you know. That’s never changed, I just have less time to see them now…”

The words caught her by surprise and the stars on her face shined a little brighter as she looked back up at her. Her hands returned to Lucella’s cheeks, smoothing over her eyebrows and thumbing over the bags that rested beneath her dull eyes. “You look so tired, Lucella.” Her voice was soft with a frown and worried eyes.

She let out a breath. “That comes with bearing the crown alone. It is a far heavier burden than most people assume it to be…” She muttered, eyes cast downwards to where her crown rested.

“You don’t have to bear it alone, you know that, right?” Astraia’s hand drifted down to take Lucella’s, placing her lips on the back. “All you have to do is ask, and I’ll help you with whatever you need.”

The smile on Lucella’s face began to fade as she shook her head. “I know and I… appreciate the offer, but I won’t be taking it,” she told her.

Astraia looked at her in confusion. “But why? You’ve been suffering so much since the ties between our people were broken, your people are suffering. I could help you, you know I could,” she insisted.

Lucella pulled her hand away. “Astraia, we’ve been over this, you know my reasoning-”

“And I still don’t understand it,” she cut in. “I know your parents were slandered for our decision, but you can’t do this on your own!”

The words sparked something in her and she turned to face her, a fire in her pink eyes. “You know nothing of my abilities as queen. Everything I have been through and faced has made me stronger,” She growled, stepping away from the spirit. “You say slander as if it were mere noblewomen gossiping, they tried to kill me because your people abandoned us in our time of need!” She turned away, missing the hurt expression on Astraia’s face.

Hesitantly, she reached out to Lucella. “I’m sorry, you know that’s not how I meant it.”

“Then how did you mean it? Gods and spirits around me, your people broke our agreement! My parents had your council’s word that they would aid us in battle against the Glossian’s and then you backed out! We lost the entire eastern side of our kingdom, our military’s still trying to make up for its losses and thousands of lives were taken including… including my parents.” Lucella sucked in a breath before facing Astraia again, a sneer painted on her face. “I’m sure you star spirits watched in glee as riots broke loose in my kingdom, when my own citizens threw knives at my head, and when they tried to poison me because they wanted none of my family’s bloodline on the throne. It was years before I slept through the night without them screaming about how weak and foolish my parents were. Where were you then, Astraia? Where?” she clutched at her arms, shrugging off the star spirit’s comforting hands.

“I wanted to help! The high council made the decision, I couldn’t do anything to change their minds. Lucella, look me in the eyes and tell me you believe that I abandoned you of my own volition.” She turned her around and looked in her eyes, a desperate violet clashing with volatile pink.

Lucella turned her gaze. “Maybe you didn’t, but regardless of your opinions, you still abandoned me when my family needed you most… when I needed you most.” She picked up her crown, fixing it back on her head.

Astraia took her hand again, holding it firmly. “I won’t do it again, I promise. You are everything to me, I will never leave you like that again.”

“I refuse to form anymore agreements with the high council, it’s clear they can’t be trusted. But you… you have a choice to make.” Lucella’s eyes fixed back onto Astraia’s, a glimmer of hope reflecting back at her. “You can either stay with the rest of the star spirits and remain in the skies or… you leave them and you come and rule by my side, no regulations, no orders. The decision is yours, but you need to make it now.”

...

Silence.

Hesitance.

The queen straightened her back, the hope dead as she turned to her balcony doors. The star spirit behind her panicked, trying to grab her arm. “Wait, wait, I didn’t give you an answer!”

“Your silence is the only answer I need, you’ve made your choice.”

A frustrated groan erupted from the spirit’s throat. “You need to give me more time than two seconds, this is a big decision!”

“You wouldn’t have hesitated to answer me if you truly wanted to stay by my side. Now, leave me spirit, I am going to retire for the night.”

“Lucella-”

“Don’t say my name ever again. Show some respect, it’s your majesty to you,” she commanded bitterly, walking through the doors and turning to close them.

The star spirit stared after her brokenly as she clutched at her chest. Nevertheless, she bowed her head. “I wish you a good rest then, your majesty. I will always be here if you need me,” she responded shakily.

The queen’s stare hardened. “I don’t need you.”

With a slam, she whirled the doors shut and closed the curtains. There was quiet, nothing stirring save for her breathing before she went to get ready for bed. She slipped under her sheets and rested her head on her pillow as she drifted to sleep.

Lucella ignored the tears that helped her fade to unconsciousness and the bitter taste left in her mouth from her lies.

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gold-eyes-vengeful-heart · 5 years

Text

Prompt #1: Voracious

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

((Runya mulls over friendship. Or: Runya has dysfunctions and wishes to show you them. Takes place a bit after ShB 5.0′s MSQ.

Mentions: @semper-miles‘ Angerona and @aetherstitch‘s Sorin! As well as Brannon, who is not on tumblr much anymore, but still.))

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More than one person who had figured out about Angerona thought his attachment to her...odd.

(He knew that Sorin would never say it out loud, but something in the other Miqo’te’s tone of voice betrayed some of his deeper thoughts and feelings on the matter.)

But he didn’t think that any of them would really understand, when it came down to it. None of them had been quite so alone as he had--not just during the experiments, but even before that, after his parents had fallen prey to the same meat-grinder of the Empire’s military machine that so many others had, savage and pureblood alike. He had always been too reclusive, too glib, too unusual in manner and affect for most to care too much about him, and in turn, he made no effort to know them either; he found their acceptance of their lot, ranging from weary to hopeful, to be an insult to the tales his parents had once told him of a much prouder and fairer nation than the one currently trapped with the Empire’s bootheel on its throat.

(So many of them so easily believed complete lies, some of them so much so that they happily acted as a foreign nation’s enforcers against their own kith and kin. It was disgusting. Of course he didn’t care to extend a hand of friendship to those who would eagerly chop it off for daring to believe that the glorious Empire might not have their own good in mind--or that the Empire’s idea of their own good might be a terrible thing, indeed.)

He didn’t have friends, really. The other soldiers in his unit were all turncoats or cowards, and though no one around him would believe it, he was certain, he had some pride at the time. He had some will to carry through what his parents had always wanted--freedom from the terrors of a marauding nation that thought all of them little better than animals. He had the urge to see such a callous and cruel system overthrown.

(He and Daeyona had much alike, as much as dear Daeyona refused to admit to it.)

But just because he had all of that, just because he had no friends, didn’t mean that some part of him that was still more than human enough didn’t still want them. Some part of him still looked at the clusters of obvious friends joking and laughing with one another even in the depths of the Empire’s machinations of violence, and felt a vicious stab of something that could only be described as envy. He looked at even the worst of people jesting at each other and having visible care for one another, and he couldn’t help but burn with jealousy.

(If even the nastiest torturers who took active glee in tormenting people could have such things, what did that say about him? As much as he tried, he couldn’t shake the thought.)

He had felt it all the keener when he threw himself into the jaws of the so-called research divisions, when he had foolishly believed that he could simply take some of their technology under the guise of being a “helpful” experiment and start to destroy them with it. He hadn’t heard how bad it was; he hadn’t expected even baser cruelties than he had ever experienced in the barracks of the military, and he hadn’t expected to have his body warped and his very mind stretched and twisted all too close to breaking.

(The depths of their secrecy was only matched by the depths of their depravity in the name of science.)

A more cynical individual might point out that of course the one woman who had tried to keep such things to a minimum would lead him to feel too much affection for her; he had undergone quite a lot already before she had been assigned to him midway through, and even the slightest relief would lead him to think too highly of the person who had given that to him.

(Maybe even some small part of him that was wary of everything insisted that was what it was.)

But that changed little. He had found the one person who actually seemed to care about him, in all his strangeness that had only grown more strange under the strain and stress of the terrors inflicted on him; she actually showed some humanity towards him, where most others had simply written him off. And what was more, even though she was in part of Garlean blood--and very respectable Garlean blood at that, with her father as a General--she seemingly agreed with him, on the rare occasions he had dared to speak his mind on the Empire to her. She had been keen on proving herself, yes, when she first came here...but she was not nearly as blind as the others to what she was doing. She saw what this division did, and she was shaken by it, and by her first contact with one of the savages that her country had so bent under its heel. She understood. She actually tried to understand him and his ideals instead of writing him off as a danger to her continued existence, or as a savage who needed to be put in his place. How could he not feel something about that?

(But this was not something as petty and asinine as romantic intent. Far from it--he wondered sometimes if he was capable of feeling it at all, anyway.)

He had hungered for so long that he devoured every onze of it that she could give him, even in the positions they were in as experimenter and experiment. It might have been a little twisted of them both, but there was no denying the utter devastation he had felt--still felt--when he had been dragged out and shown what they had done to her in retaliation for the kindness she had shown to him.

(Or so they told him. It might have merely been a side-effect rather than the initial purpose...But unless he found the men responsible himself, he might never know.)

Even her supposed death had done nothing to slake the hungering for something as simple as affection and understanding, even as his original ideals corrupted and bent under the sheer hate he held for those who had ripped her mind from its socket to replace it with something--someone--different. His entire personality warped into something more snide and underhanded, and yet even something as drastic as that had never stopped the acid loathing in his gut that bubbled at seeing those responsible having something so simple between one another that he had been denied at their hands.

(He hated it he hated it he hated it so much)

Maybe it was no wonder, once he changed his name and even his species and escaped, no longer Aeglius but Runya now, he found himself attached to Brannon as much as he had been. Maybe it was no wonder that he panicked at the realization, some moons on, and had done his best to dedicate himself to his work in bringing down the Empire’s sick rotten society, even going so far as to attempt to murder Daeyona in the process, to gain himself more and more power--and remove the possibility that she might try to stop him for being too extreme about his wishes.

(Maybe in some sense, it was to give him no way to go back, failure or success. No one would have forgiven him for that, he was certain. But funny how things turned out, and how things worked out so soon after--or so it felt--and he found himself unable to run again.)

Yet...he could no more outrun his own inner desires, the ones that spoke on a primal level that he could not ignore, than he could outrun the sun rising in the morning. Sorin had happened; even if he had intended to double-cross him too in the end, he had missed feeling like someone cared, even if it held an edge of frustration and annoyance sometimes (though not for no reason).

(A starving man would not turn down even the faintest scrap of a meal, he knew from bitter experience. Apparently it applied to the heart as much as the body, whether he wanted it to or not.)

Some days it hit him so strongly that he could have torn even the smallest piece of that affection apart, licked up its blood from the most disgusting of charnel-house stones; he could have unhinged his jaw like the void-serpents he kept and swallowed whole the entirety of what was between them, and still felt hunger for more more more of what he had gone without for so much of his life. He even could have crawled over broken glass, after everything that had just happened, to get Brannon to show that he cared again, even in the most wary of ways. He could have carved his own leg off with his teeth if it meant that he would never be without what little positive feeling anyone had shown him ever again.

(Those who had never been there, had never felt such bitter hunger for so horrifically a long time would never be able to understand just how horribly he thirsted for it; sympathize, yes, but understand? Never.)

Even dear Maebh, who had never been Angerona and never would be and yet sort of was, drew his eye and his heart sometimes. Even Maebh, however warily, treating him with some grudging respect over the help he had given Daeyona had served to take the edge from the constant voraciousness that plagued him day in and day out.

(Maybe it always would; he had lost over two decades of his life to this, had he not?)

But as long as any of them tolerated it--Maebh, Brannon, Sorin--he would take and take and take whatever friendship they would give him, no matter how great and small. No matter how badly it pulled him into halves between his hate and his friends, he refused to give up quite so easily on this, now that the constant burning in his heart had eased if just by fractions, if just for moments.

(He would devour it just like the serpent some people (not falsely) still claimed he was at heart. He needed it, even if he had tried to deny it for so long that his spirit had atrophied into something vicious and twisted.)

But even something so vicious and twisted could get so starved that he couldn’t take it anymore, even if it meant ripping his heart between two duties, friendship and destruction, to sate it. Now, after everything? So be it.

#; writing #FFXIVwrite2019 #HOO BOY okay time to stop staring at this for ages

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