#petition to let me move on with my life so I can get married and have babies please and thank you

[starkwlkr]

Could you do one where Ruby is dating someone and she really likes him and Charles approves of him but Ruby finds out that he was only with her to get to her dad and she blames her dad for the fame and hates that he’s famous but they make up :)) Sorry it’s long i love your writing❤️

don’t fall in love | charles leclerc

ruby defender until i dieeeee‼️‼️

Ruby adored her boyfriend, Mason, with her whole heart. At just sixteen years old, Ruby had declared Mason the love of her life. Y/n thought that was a bit too early for her to even think that, but Ruby was convinced that she and Mason were going to end up married. She was blinded by love. She couldn’t tell that their relationship was always a one sided love, that Mason saw her as just Charles Leclerc’s daughter. Even her twelve year old brother, Mathéo, could see that Mason only cared about one thing and that was fame.

Growing up, Ruby’s every move was captured by the paparazzi. It was the downside of having a famous father. She learned to ignore it, but sometime it was just too much. Mason saw it as an opportunity to ‘make a name for himself’. He was counting down the days for when he went from ‘Ruby Leclerc’s boyfriend’ to ‘Mason, Charles Leclerc’s son in law’ or something like that. For him, it would be a dream to be part of the Leclerc family, so when he was finally invited to his first F1 race, he posted it all over social media.

It was during the British Grand Prix that Ruby finally found out the horrible truth.

She had picked out a cute outfit wanting to impress Mason. The boy didn’t bother giving her one compliment all day. She brushed it off thinking he was tired from the flight. Mason’s ‘tiredness’ was long gone once they entered the paddock. Photographers recognized Ruby and called her name out. Mason took the opportunity to put his arm around her shoulder and fake a smile.

“Where’s your dad?” Mason asked as they walked towards the Ferrari hospitality.

“I’m not sure. I think he’s in the garage.” Ruby replied.

“Let’s go say hi. I want to wish him good luck before the race.” Mason practically dragged Ruby towards the Ferrari garage.

Ruby said hello to the Ferrari engineers while Mason dragged her by her hand to where Charles was. He was talking with Y/n, who held Mathéo’s hand since he was shy when it came to race days.

“Papa!” Ruby greeted her father with a kiss on both cheeks.

“Hey, man. Good luck. I’m sure you’ll get your points today.” Mason said to Charles.

Charles liked Mason. He was responsible, nice and most of all, he was respectful to his little girl. Good qualities for Ruby’s first boyfriend.

Y/n had noticed that Ruby tried to talk with Charles, but Mason kept cutting her off. She was 50/50 on Mason. He seemed like a nice guy, but as Y/n got to know him better, his true colors started showing.

“Maman, can we got to the roof? I like it better there.” Mathéo asked.

“Of course, my beautiful boy. Ruby, want to join your brother and i on the roof?” Y/n asked her daughter.

“Uh, let me ask Mason if he wants to go.” Ruby replied, but she could barely get Mason’s attention. He was too busy talking about tyres with Charles. Ruby felt embarrassed. She couldn’t even get her own boyfriend’s attention.

“We’ll be on the roof,” Y/n said to Ruby. She turned to Charles, who definitely payed attention to his wife. “Good luck, love. I love you.” Y/n kissed Charles’ lips then kissed his cheek.

“Thank you, Mon amour. And where are you going, mon petit garçon?” (My little boy) Charles looked at his son. “Take care of your maman, okay?” He kissed Mathéo’s forehead. Mathéo nodded and hugged his father. Soon, the mom and son were on the way to the paddock roof.

“My mom and brother are going up to the roof. Would you like to go? It’s a great view. You get to see the pitstop-” Mason cut off Ruby.

“Can’t we stay in the garage?” Mason asked.

“We can, but-”

“Great. Hey, so what’s your next helmet design?” Mason went back to talking with Charles.

Ruby nodded. She looked around the garage she had been in a million times. Same team, same car, same tyres, same everything. At least she had Mason. (For now)

When the race started, she and Mason were handed their headsets. They watched as Charles had started on pole with Max right behind him.

Ruby had enough of racing. She had seen it on tv and in real life many times so she was a bit bored. Mason, on the other hand, was enjoying every second of it. When Charles almost made contact with Max, he shouted as if he was the team principal. Some Ferrari team members were even looking at him funny.

“It’s his first race.” Ruby whispered to them. She then looked at Mason. “Calm down. You’re getting weird looks.”

“Babe, it’s f1. You can’t calm down when f1 is involved.” Mason replied.

Ruby sighed. She took her headset off and walked to her father’s drivers room. She sat on the small bed and took out her phone. As she scrolled through instagram, she got a message from a school friend.

‘Isn’t this your boyfriend?’ They had sent a screenshots of Mason’s close friends list.

Team redbull? Secured paddock passes for life? Ruby had enough.

‘Ex-boyfriend. We broke up.’ She texted back.

‘Ok queen. Drag him’

And that’s exactly what Ruby did.

She knew Mason wouldn’t leave the garage mid race so she thought of the perfect way to get him out.

‘Hey, babe! Lewis Hamilton is outside! He says he wants to meet you.’

Lewis had retired from racing so using him was perfect. It didn’t take long for Mason to be right outside the garage wondering where Lewis Hamilton was.

“Hey, where’s Lewis? I want him to sign my phone case.” Mason said when he saw Ruby.

“He’s not here and he’s sure as hell not signing any of your shit.” Ruby glared.

“Okay we’ll I’m going back to watch the race.” Mason tried walking back into the garage, but Ruby stepped infront of him. “Babe, move. Your dad is still p1. We’ve got to support him.”

“You’re not going in. This is for the Ferrari family only, which you’re not apart of. Go see if that redbull girl will let you into their garage.”

Mason started laughing. “That’s what you’re mad about? Baby, I was joking! I’m a Ferrari fan all the way. Now, come on, let’s go watch your dad win.”

“No. You’re not welcome here or at any race ever again.” Ruby said. “Give me the pass and get out.”

“You don’t mean that, babe. You’re just tired from the flight. Take a nap and we’ll talk later.” Mason was about to put a hand on her shoulder, but she quickly punched his face. “What the fuck! Shit!” He held his bloody nose.

“I said get out!” Ruby yelled then ripped the paddock pass from his neck.

“You’re a fucking bitch anyways!” Mason yelled back as he walked away to the exit.

Ruby kept an eye on him until he actually left the paddock. She then noticed a few photographers and team members from Aston Martin and Alpine looking at her. “What?” She asked them harshly. They continued walking, afraid that Ruby might punch them next.

“Stupid boys.” She muttered as she walked to the paddock roof where she finally joined her mother and brother. She spent the rest of the race wishing she never let Mason make her fall in love. She hated herself for that.

“Papa! He won!” Mathéo jumped from his mother’s lap. “We need to see the ceremony! Let’s go!” The boy whined.

“You saw the ceremony last week, Mathéo! Nothing changed.” Ruby coldly said.

“Ruby Jules, apologize to your brother. Don’t be mad at him for being excited.” Y/n scolded the teen girl.

“What? It’s the truth. Dad is on the podium every race with uncle Max and uncle Carlos. It’s a stupid ceremony anyways with stupid trophies and stupid Ferrari.” Ruby mumbled. When she had enough, she got up and walked back down.

“She said stupid three times, maman.” Mathéo said.

“I know and don’t say that. You know grand-mère doesn’t like those kind of words.”

After the ceremony, Y/n had told Charles what had happened with Ruby so he told his wife he would talk to Ruby.

“It has to do with Mason so please don’t say anything . . . stupid.” Y/n whispered the last part since Mathéo was around and if she said it she would look like the world biggest hypocrite.

“Okay, I won’t. I’ll meet you at the teams hospitality.” Charles said and kissed his wife once more before leaving to find his daughter.

He was told by Fred that he saw Ruby enter his driver’s room so he headed towards the said room. He knocked three times before he opened the door. Charles saw Ruby sitting on a chair scrolling on her phone. She remained silent, clearly angry at everything.

“I saw you weren’t at the ceremony.” Charles said. “I didn’t see Mason either.”

“Mason can go to hell.”

“Okay, what did he do to my little girl?”

Ruby groaned. “He wouldn’t have done anything if it weren’t for you! Why did you have to be a f1 driver! You could’ve been an architect or a stay at home dad. Mason was only with me to get to you, dad. And not just Mason, so many people at school want to be ‘friends’ because of my last name. I should’ve taken mom’s last name.”

Charles watched as Ruby stormed out of the room, leaving the door open. He knew how being in the spotlight was for her. He tried to keep her away from the media, but it was impossible now that she was grown.

“Hey, Y/n is asking for you.” He heard an engineer tell him.

“Thank you.” He mumbled as he exited his driver’s room. He could feel a couple of stares from the team, but he ignored them. He spotted Y/n and Mathéo by his car since Charles had promised the boy he could sit in it. “She hates me. Again.” Charles told Y/n. “She said she’d rather have your last name than mine.”

“I’ll talk to her. Théo wants you.” Y/n sighed. She left Charles and Théo as she went to look for Ruby. An Alpine engineer had told her Ruby’s location, which was their teams hospitality. She entered and saw Ruby sitting by herself eating ice cream.

“Your father told me that you don’t like being a Leclerc.” Y/n sat beside Ruby.

“I didn’t mean it. I just . . . I just want something normal. Mason was only with me because of my famous dad.”

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. Boys are jerks, believe me.” Y/n comforted the girl.

“Even dad?”

“Sometimes.” Y/n lightly chuckled.

“Isn’t this the part where you’re supposed to tell me not to tell him?”

“No, he knows.”

Ruby cracked a smile. “I feel like a jerk. I love being a Leclerc. I love my family, maman. What if dad hates me forever and then I can’t go back home and I have to live on the street?”

“You’re so dramatic, Ruby Jules, I can’t tell if you get that from me or your father.” Y/n said.

“Definitely both of you, but Charles is extremely dramatic.” She heard Pierre say as he placed a kiss on Ruby’s temple. “At least you don’t need a dna test for this one.”

“Why are you here?”

“You’re in the Alpine hospitality and you’re asking why I’m here?”

“Bye, Pierre!” Y/n practically pushed him away so she could continue her talk with Ruby. “Your father knows how much you love him and he would never put you on the street.”

“He might.”

“He won’t.”

“But he could.”

“He’s not.”

“But-”

“You kids are going to be the death of me,” Y/n rolled her eyes.

“Sorry, force of habit, you know how uncle Arthur and I are.” Ruby apologized. “I have to find dad.”

Eventually Ruby did apologize to Charles for saying she wished she wasn’t a Leclerc. In the end, the family agreed that Mason was an asshole and Charles even managed to ban him from any race from both f1 and f2. Nobody was mean to his kids and Mason had crossed the line.

[cyrusthedragon]

Gentleman

Teen And Up Audience

Let's talk about Simon Riley being a gentleman for you but not the way we usually think about gentlemen.

Relationship: Simon "Ghost" Riley / f!Reader

Tags: domestic fluff, no "Ghost", established relationship, married couple, playful bullying, newborn children, Simon Riley being BIG and SOFT (and bullied), husband material

Please, comment if you liked it, it means a lot to me!

Notes:

Reader is from a rich family, but still joined the military

Reader and Simon serve(d) together

Simon Riley without his mask

AO3

Stand up so you can sit down; take off your outer clothes; pull up a chair for you; kiss the back of your hand; do not raise voice at you; if you walk on the sidewalk, then stand by the road; make sure you feel comfortable when you go out; if you bend over to pick up something under the table, then cover the corner of the table with his hand; lay his head on your shoulder just because; make two cups of tea anyway; try to say when he feels uncomfortable (not just swallow it cuz he don't wanna bother you! mister it's-not-that-deep); talk with you when something is wrong; when you look good — say out loud that you look good; ask if you need some help and actually help you, massage your tired feet.

Yeah, he doesn't really know about the etiquette and other stuff, but he knows exactly how to cherish you, trying so hard to give you that normal life he knows you deserve, even though he's so dumb that he didn't really understand you do not need 'normal life', you're as battle-scarred as he is, you just need life with him. Civilian or not, you don't give a damn about it, maybe he didn't know how to use that god-awful melon spoon, but it's okay as long as he is happy, cuz the melon spoon never was so necessary. You just love watching him, so clumsy with small and delicate things, that you can't help but just stay silent and admire how he's trying to deal with that nappy for your tiny little newborn baby daughter, who literally can completely fit in two his palms.

He was big compared to normal guy, was huge compared to you, and now he's damn giant compared to your daughter.

"Fatherhood suits you," you said, looking at him from the threshold, and laughed when he literally shuddered. The man on purpose lowered his guard down, 'cause he felt himself safe with you. Both of you, now.

"The hell are you tolkin' about... Help me instead, I can't understand how this shit works.." grumpy, messy, baby powder on his cheek, brows furrowed. If Johnny saw him right now, he'd definitely shit his pants from how scary Simon looked at that poor nappy, like it, idk, killed his beloved puppy. But as how scary it was for everyone esle, as much it was funny for you; you couldn't resist your laugh coming out, trying to hide your face with your palm, when he looked at you as severely as physically possible.

And blushed.

"Shut up."

You smiled at him widely, coming closer: "I said nothing, baby." but that wasn't true. Technically, that wasn't a lie, too. You said a lot of things, but not with words. "You can't handle one diaper?"

"I didn't say I can't handle it, dammit," he groaned, focussing on swaddling the baby who couldn't stop giggling and twitching from side to side; you rested your elbow on his shoulder, and he theatrically sighed, looking at his daughter: "Rocket fuel in your veins..." and, stooping to kiss her on her belly, added: "Just like your mother."

"I don't get it, are you bullying her?" before he realized it, you pucked girl up. She giggled, sucking on her own petit fingers, moving her legs. "You're bullying my daughter, Simon?"

"Oh goodness, love..." he clicked, you cackled, holding baby closer and moving two steps away from him, "you wanna start a fight now?"

"I don't", but considering how you smiled and looked at your daughter's very pleased reaction, you obviously wanted this: "Do you?"

"I don't," he answered, "but if you're going to continue whatever you're doing, I'm-"

"You what?" and you moved the child in your arms accompanied by her contented laughter, so Simon could see it:

You sly thing.

He can't do with you anything when you're holding the baby.

"What, you swallowed your tongue, darling?" your footsteps were coming closer to the living room, and he followed at your heels, looking almost the same as on the military, about to scold one of his soldiers. "Love..." almost growled, making the baby laugh harder, clapping; the fluff on her head swayed when you moved left and right, skirting the furniture: "Love?" you repeated after him, looking directly into his eyes without a single blink, "Now I'm love?"

"You always were my love..."

"No, five seconds ago you were threatening me!" you smiled, moving your gaze to your daughter. "He was threatening your mama, sunshine, look at him!"

"No-o!" Simon exclaimed, holding out his hands to the little one, "Princess, don't listen to her! She's lying! She was bullying me!"

"Bullying you? How can I bully you? I'm a victim here!"

"You're not!"

"Of course I am, princess saw how you were telling me you're going to do something!-" laughter, quick steps, radio talking in the kitchen, child's giggle, Simon's sighs, and two grown-ass adults argument in which each of you tried to convince a three-month-old child which of you is really a victim.

Was that the life you were expecting from joining the military?

No.

That was the life that Simon Riley gave you without your request. He just was there, silently, very bad at any good feelings, not knowing what exactly to say or how to act in some situations, learning from you by just watching how you talked with everyone, and simply remembering small things. From small things about how to interact with people, who are not broken as fu-. Ahem. To small things about you, and one day he understood — you became his healing pill. Somehow, by doing literally nothing, only existing in the same universe as him, winking to him, talking to him — actually talking, not just having some nonsense chat about the weather or your job, but discussing with him, asking about his opinion, you became a person who was so damn comfortable to him, that he couldn't deny how he's attached to you anymore.

This man appeared in your life like a silent company, then your partner on missions, then your partner for life, then your husband, and then the father of your child.

And now you were testing his limits, 'cause you wanted so.

This girl in your hands — she was the third most precious woman in his life, after his mother and you, and you knew exactly what you were doing by teasing him, not letting him go closer to you, or take her from your hands.

"What? What? Wanna say you're not bullying me? Princess, look-"

"No, princess, don't. Look at your daddy, daddy loves you, daddy would never bully your mommy."

"Liar!"

And then once again: he sighs, you giggle, baby girl made her baby sound, and the three of you were whirled around the house, from room to room, until finally, he cornered you. Literally. You pressed yourself into the corner of the bedroom with your whole body, never stop smiling, but knowing for sure that this man would not leave it so easily. You blinked, he towered over you like a mountain, put his hand on the wall and you automatically bit your lower lip, chuckling: "Are we like... In some kind of third-rate young adult drama?"

"Give her to me. Now."

A hoarse, hot, deep voice sounded right in front of you. His blue eyes into yours, and you had to tilt your head to keep eye contact, but it was completely worth it.

"Or what?" you whispered; the little one's eye's shifted from you to her father, from him to you again, Simon leaned over to you, and before this whole situation started to get too spicy, you quickly gave him the child and came out from under his quite skillful confident kabe-don. Ah, but you remember times when he was too shy to kiss you... "You can have her," you said, looking innocent, watching him trying to handle girl as delicate as possible, hissing at your actions as if scolding because you simply cannot treat such tiny, fragile creatures like that.

You can break her!

He.

Scolding you.

For not being gentle.

He.

Holding her so, so gently, carefully, holding her head straight, because she didn't know how to do it yet, frowning at you, you, an irresponsible woman!

This behemoth of a man with such a little girl in his hands.

"She's already daddy's girl, isn't she?" You murmured. Simon put her on the changing pad, you followed him. "Try again," you said, when he took the open diaper.

He sucked air deep into his lungs and began to swaddle this little giggly monster.

Action after action, extreme care, total concentration, as if he was defusing a bomb, unblinking stare until the last details, and only when girl was laying there, completely swaddled, with a pacifier in her mouth, he exhaled, closing his eyes.

"Holy f-..."

"Good job! It was that hard, baby?" You chuckled, stroking his back, when he turned to you, hugging your waist softly. "No," he whispered, breathing in your scent, mixed with perfume and the smell of a hair conditioner, "I was trying not to hurt her. She's so tiny..."

Oh, that man drove you crazy.

The level of happiness in your blood exceeded all permissible norms, you pressed into him, cheek on his cheek for a second, and kissed his cheekbone, smiling like a fool.

Or it was just him?

Big protective fool, so scared to hurt his little daughter...

You love him like this: in your arms, mumbling about how afraid he is that one day he'll do something to her, due to miscalculated strength. You weren't afraid. You knew he simply won't let it happen.

"You wouldn't." You answered, gently running your fingers through his short blonde hair, "Wanna know why?"

Simon looked into your eyes, moving away a little, so you could see him properly: "Why?"

You smiled: "Because she's our daughter," and before he let himself relax, you added, grinning nastily: "If you'll ever try to hurt her, she'll kick your ass, like it's a fucking football, darling."

Well.

Maybe... Just maybe... Maybe he wasn't a liar...

Maybe you truly enjoyed bullying him, so he can "get angry" and finally shut you up with the most delicious kiss in the world.

Simon's lips pressed to yours, your hands over his hot red cheeks, because someone's still too easy to tease, his hands around your waist, just to be sure you're not going anywhere, your eyes closed so you can remember every moment, every note of his taste. And the softness, but the conference of his movements.

Simon Riley was the best example of the word "self-control".

You never saw an another man with such power over himself that he can hold the most fragile teacup tightly and not break it.

And he was afraid?

He?

Oh, you were planning to live a life beside him and for once and for all make him see how amazing he really was.

Yes, he doesn't have some fancy private university diploma, maybe he's not a philosophy Ph.D., but, god forgive me, was he less incredible because of it? Not even a little.

He doesn't know about a melon spoon, he doesn't really like all these luxurious restaurants, he can tell nothing about Gucci house, then fuck it, fuck it all, fuck the etiquette, fuck high table manners, fuck meticulous elegance, prim ideality — the way Simon kissed you, keep you close, the way he looked at you with his eyes go wild, the way he was sucking your scent, burying his face in your neck, after holding your common child, as if both of you were priceless treasures from the depths of the sea.

Squeezing you, carefully touching her chubby pink cheek with a pad of his finger, and slowly, lightly kissing the back of your hand, pressing her close while rocking.

Yeah, he wasn't a gentleman.

He didn't have a fantastic talent for anything, couldn't distinguish Manet from Monet, and mathematics wasn't one of his strengths.

But he had his stubbornness, willpower, desire, and love for work.

Simon Riley was a hard-worker.

And that's exactly what you love in him.

"We should..." you swallowed, licking your lower lip after that disastrous kiss he gave you, "We should go on a date..."

"Why so?" just his hoarse voice made you snuggle into him, hugging his neck so tightly, as if you wanted to kill him with your own hands — that's how much you loved him. But you did nothing.

Just breathing heavily, feeling him lift you by your hips, seating you on the windowsill in your bedroom. "Because," you murmured, smacking him on the lips, "I want you to eat molecular crap in your only black suit, and grumble that this berry foam is not a real food."

And when you laughed, already hearing his old man's grumbling, his huge hands grabbed your waist again, squeezing tightly, as if purposely ignoring your mouth-watering sides.

You told Simon last morning that even though it's been three months since you gave birth, your pelvis still hurts sometimes —

Oh.

What a gentle man he was...

Haha.

[artisticxlly]

Hey :)

I'm a huge Bokuaka shipper. For me they are canon. What do you think happend after Bokuto finished school? In my mind he tried to get held back so he could stay with Akaashi, but Kuroo stopped him. How was Akaashi's first time back and realizing that Bokuto wasn't there? Do you think they moved in after Akaashi graduated (with Honors of course) I like to think that Bokuto proposed like after a month of them being together. Like: "You will always be my favorite setter and I want to cuddle with you all the time, so please marry me! We would be the bestest of husbands!" And then Akaashi has to remind Bokuto that gay marriage isn't legal in Japan, so Bokuto wants to move or ask Kenma to use all his followers to make a petition. What do you think?

Here's the thing, I'm still relatively new to shipping them, so you will have to excuse some inaccuracies /lh (As said before, I was criminally sleeping on them).

However for you dear anon (and in general because I love getting asks), here are some thoughts!

(Quick sidenote, Bokuto getting the impulse to repeat the year is adorable.)

Bokuto graduating would definitely affect Akaashi a lot. Being a more reserved person, Bokuto helped get him out of his shell. I'd think his anxiety would get really bad too, on some days more than others. (Speaking from personal experience here) having someone who is very reassuring and confident when you yourself are not is A+ support.

That is why I can see Akaashi graduating with honors too, pouring all he can into his work to occupy his mind, seek assurance and stability in things like grades since his support pillar and crush greatest friend, the star giving him light isn't by his side right now.

I think it would also be hard for him to adjust, sitting alone at lunch so suddenly for example. He often packed more lunch than he could eat so Bokuto could steal some from his bento previously, but now the sight of his half-eaten lunch box gives him this pit in his stomach.

Similarly, I'm also pretty confident in thinking that Bokuto has his insecurities and bad days too. He doesn't let it show often but he does miss Akaashi and entering a new career path where everything is suddenly so serious, so grave, is overwhelming. He'd like to hear Akaashi's advice or maybe even his ridiculing (Bokuto admires his intelligence), get his help on things he can't fully comprehend not because he's too dumb to, but because he isn't sure if he fits into this adult life just yet. Or hey, just having Akaashi's presence would help. Doing things together always benefitted both of them.

When it came to volleyball Bokuto stayed longer, practising even after training was over (with Akaashi staying as well to set for him) but when he joins the ranks of professional players he tries to substitute that and takes really, really long walks. Kind of similar in nature to him hiding in tight spaces (which he still does I'd say) he takes time for himself, isolated. The walks don't always clear his mind in a way he'd like but exhausting his body is a somewhat pleasant side effect to help him sleep later.

I'd like to think they'd move together too but additionally their schedules are dreadfully full at first, meaning they barely see each other despite it. They try to arrange a weekly night out or have specific days where they make sure to eat dinner together to mediate it (it doesn't always work but most of the time? sure).

I do like your take on them getting married early on but I want to also offer an alternative: Bokuto can either barely get the words out, so he procrastinates on it OR they both don't really feel the need to have their commitment down on paper. To both of them it is pretty much a given that they'll grow old together. I do think Bokuto would get them promise rings though.

And I do think Bokuto is be very prideful about having such a wonderful partner. He wears the promise ring on a necklace when he's playing or carries it with him in a different way, kind of like a talisman for good luck and support. He gets interviewed after being seen wearing it and does get adorably happy, shamelessly explaining that he has a wonderful boyfriend (Akaashi nearly goes into cardiac arrest when one of his co-workers shows the clip of it to him).

Kind of keeping your theme of Bokuto advocating for same-sex marriage in Japan because I find it terrific, I think that that aforementioned clip would garner quite the mixed attention. Bokuto rarely gets irritated but when people start developing this habit to talk in a more condescending way or ask backhanded questions he is QUICK to shut them down. Some people are quick to assume he's dumb or too oblivious to pick up on it… He does.

Anyway, I hope I could do them justice!! Thank you so much for the ask, anon :]

[littlewriterfullofwords]

Hey, could you write one with Gumayusi. About how he tries to speak to/impress a foreigner girl (lets say small, petite european with dyed purple hair and for funs 1 year older than him) that he took liking on, being all "macho"(typical Guma) but actually dying inside from shyness because he is afraid to mess up.

Thank You

By the way it is nice to see someone writing about T1 .Have a nice evening/ day

Hiiii! I love the idea! Thank you for the request. Thank you for reading my writings, I will be writing till my hyperfixation stays haha

TOO CASUAL

Parring: Gumayusi x EuropeanFem!Reader

Reader's description: petite European with dyed purple hair and 1 year older than Gumayusi

Summary: You visit your online friend in Korea and go shopping

Warnings: none, maybe some swearing

A/N: Hi. So, first of all, I am sorry it took that long, but my life and mental health got kinda crazy. Second, the story feels cut out, so I am thinking of writing a second part of it if you guys want that.

"Where are you?" A female voice in your phone almost yelled at you, making you move the device away from your ear. "I can't see you."

"Maybe because there are people?" You joked as you started walking to grab your luggage. "I'm going to get my suitcase, and we can meet there."

"Great." And she hung up.

Before putting your phone in your pocket, you chuckled, shook your head, and sighed. Your friend was everything chaotic.

"Got you!" The moment you reached for your suitcase, slowly moving on the belt, someone grabbed your shoulders, making you miss the bag.

"Really?" You turned around and looked at your Korean friend, who was smiling brightly at you. "You made me miss my bag."

"Ups." She chuckled. "Shit happens. It's nice to see you, too."

You couldn't stay mad at her, so you burst into laughter a second later and hugged her immediately. You didn't care about your baggage going round and round behind your back, now you and your friend mattered the most. You've been online friends for so long and finally decided to meet in real life. That's why you flew to Korea.

"Okay, girl." Said F/N and took a step back. "Grab your bag and we going"

You nodded and again started hunting for your suitcase that was riding the belt like the chicken on the display. Finally, after 5 minutes of contemplating if this one was yours or not, you found your luggage and left the airport with your friend while talking and laughing.

"We gotta go to the store." Said F/N while driving. "There are some stuff I gotta buy. We can get snacks for the night."

You simply nodded and hummed in agreement because damn, you weren't listening. Your eyes were scanning the city behind the window in silence, watching how the buildings disappeared from your sight as the new ones took their place. The hearts in your eyes made your friend giggle in the driver's seat.

"Close your mouth because a fly will fly in." She laughed as she stopped the car by the shop, making you return to reality. "Let's go."

You eagerly followed F/N to the store, almost running behind her like a puppy. Again, your eyes doubled their size as you absorbed everything around you, finally seeing stuff from videos in real life.

"We should have met a long before." You joked as again you ran up to your friend, who had her cart half-full. "All that stuff makes me want to marry a millionaire."

"And what it has to do with me?" She asked jokingly. "I'm not the one for you."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, yet a smile didn't disappear from your lips. Your eyes continued searching the selves until they stopped at three silhouettes standing two alleys away.

"Oh fuck." You whispered and clung onto your friend, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks.

"What?" Your friend put instant ramyeon in her cart and looked at you with concern. "What's wrong?"

"T1." Your eyes moved to the place where three people were standing, casually talking, while you were hiding for your dear life.

"Geezz." F/N sighed and chuckled nervously. "I thought you saw a ghost or something. You scared me."

"You are too casual about that." You took a step away from your friend and fixed your hair without looking away from T1.

It was Gumayusi, Keria and Zeus, casually shopping, joking while you were fighting for your breath. The T1 merch cap you had on your head was pulled down by you to hide your bushy cheeks, it didn't work out the way you wanted, tho.

"Your hair ain't helping you in hiding." Your friend was so far away from you that you almost didn't hear her.

You wanted to say something in response, but the feeling of someone watching you, stopped you. Your eyes followed the feeling and locked with Gumayusi's. The speed in which you sprinted towards your friend was out of this planet. On the way, you took off your hat and hid it in your pocket. At that moment, you didn't care if other customers were judging you or not, you were literally fighting for your life.

"You need some air?" F/N joked when she noticed your red face.

"Nah, I'm fine." You answered quietly and from now on didn't leave your friend's side.

Not until you heard someone's voice next to you.

"I like your hair colour." Soft Korean made you jump up like a scared kitten, and when you realized that was Keria talking, you gasped.

"Oh.... t-thank you." You said in Korean, your voice trembled nervously.

"You're welcome." Minseok smiled softly. "I've been thinking of dying my hair lately. What colour should I go for?"

You didn't expect him to ask you for advice about hair dye. Fuck, you didn't expect Keria to come up to you and casually talk.

"Well...." You started, your voice still acting like a jelly. "What's your favouri-" Before you could finish your question, the other two joined Keria, making you step back a bit.

"You had the courage to start the conversation with the pretty purple-haired girl?" Joked Gumayusi and elbowed Keria in the shoulder.

'Pretty'? Did he just call you pretty? Your face couldn't be more red than it's been already.

"Of course I did." Scoffed Keria. "I'm no coward. But, back to the hair dye. You were saying something before they interrupted."

"Oh, yeah, right." You nodded while trying your best not to look at the men in front of you. "I was asking about your favourite colour. Maybe it will suit you. If not, then maybe platinum white. It's universal."

"Hmmm, I see." Minseok nodded then looked at his teammates. "White it is, right?"

"Don't look at me." Said Guma. "You heard your pretty lady, either pink or white. It's your hair."

And the compliment again. Your eyes roamed around the shop in search of your friend, who magically disappeared. You needed her.

"There you are." As if she heard your thoughts, she appeared behind you with a smile and a full cart. "I was looking for you. I thought the ghosts got you."

"I thought you left me." I whispered. "You know, my Korean ain't the best."

"I think it's pretty good." Said Gumayusi, his eyes looking around, Keria and Zeus nodded along.

"Thank you." You smiled at him and nodded as a thank you, then turned to your friend. "You're done, right? We going?"

"Sure." F/N chuckled and nodded.

Again, you felt someone looking at you, and again it was Gumayusi, his dark eyes focused on you. His cheeks were slightly pink as if shyness was talking through him, yet his body language was rather confident. Walking paradox, ain't it?

"Good luck with the hair dye." You said to Keria and smiled. "White will look good on you."

Minseok smiled brightly at your comment and nodded happily. He reminded you of your younger cousin, so cute.

You looked at the other members, and you wanted to say something to them too, but your friend interrupted you by doing something you didn't expect. She grabbed your T1 cap from your pocket, put it on your head, so the men could see the logo, and then pulled you her way, leaving the guys stunned.

"Am I imagining things?" You heard from where you left T1 members at what your friend giggled.

"You're welcome." She whispered and pushed you towards the self-checkout.

"I'm gonna kill you one day." You answered as quietly as she but burst into laughter a second later.

Two minutes didn't pass when the members appeared at the second self-checkout right next to you two. You sneakily looked at their products and when you noticed white hair dye, you smiled.

"Hiding the fact you're a fan...." You heard Gumayusi next to you. "You're a sneaky little thing."

"I wasn't hiding it." You opposed. "It just....it didn't feel necessary to reveal."

Minhyung chuckled warmly at your words and nodded in agreement.

"Whose your favourite member?" Asked Gumayusi, running fingers through his hair. "You play League? Who's your favourite champion? Which lane you play?"

"Let her breath." Joked Zeus, but Guma didn't listen, he was waiting for your answers, but before you could say anything your friend stepped in.

"Imma snatch my friend." Your friend interrupted your conversation and grabbed your wrist. "We gotta go, kiddo."

"I'm older than you." You reminded her with a smile. "01 validates me."

"Shut up." F/N giggled and handed you a bag full of food. "Say your goodbyes and we out."

You turned towards T1 and bowed.

"It was nice to meet you, guys." You said to the members. "Thank you for your hard work."

"Thanks for the tip about the hair dye." Keria said with a smile and waved the box in the air. You smiled back and nodded.

"Noona. ('older sister', a term used by younger males towards older females)" Gumayusi caught your attention with the title and made you turn his way to notice his sneaky smile. "Another secret, huh? How many of those are you hiding?"

"Oi." Zeus interrupted the conversation with a smile. "Let her keep her secrets. Those are secrets for a reason."

"Geezz. I really need to use force." Your friend grabbed your arm and led you towards the exit. "You really are a big fan."

"I am." You chuckled on the way out.

Before leaving the store, you turned to look at the guys and waved at them. Keria was holding Gumayusi in a headlock and was affectionately ruffling his hair.

"I thought I would fuck it up." You heard from away and smiled, then finally left the store.

"I love Korea." You said to your friend and followed her to her car.

[star-girl69]

I Loved You Like the Sun

a/n: wow two updates in one day look at me go anyways i hope you all enjoy as always!!

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, violence, death, like vaemond dies so very much death, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Twenty- I Am Your Sword

—-

Each morning, you greet the day the same way. You entangle yourself from whatever position you had slept in, (tonight, you had fallen asleep with your head on Daemon’s chest and Rhaenyra pressed against your back,) and greet whoever you can reach.

You crane your head, reach your arms over your head, feel those satisfying pops. Daemon stirs, eyes closed, not quite awake. His hand reaches around blindly, somehow finding the back of your head.

“Kiss,” he murmurs, and you adjust to press your lips to his cheek. “Do it properly.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You married me.” He juts his jaw out, waiting for you. You sigh, unable to resist him.

It’s quick, and his tongue only swipes the seam of your lips before you pull away. But he seems placated by that, muttering something and sinking back into the pillows.

Rhaenyra sits up, swinging her legs over the bed. she doesn’t get up, doesn’t make a move to do so. She simply sits.

You crawl over, swinging over to your knees to kneel behind her. Hands on her shoulders, you begin to knead. She sighs, and her head falls back.

“You’re nervous. I can feel it.” She hums, and silence retakes the room. Daemon shuffles in the sheets behind you. “You told me yourself there is no use worrying.”

“I was wrong.” She says, after a moment’s silence.

“Rhaenyra…”

But then the doors open, and she stands and you let your hands fall.

“We’ll speak later,” she says, and you watch as she sits at the vanity. Handmaidens descend upon her like vultures, until they part and she is a different person. Still yours. But different.

“Lady Y/N?” One of them asks, and you stand with a sigh, ready to be changed like her. You break your promise to your mother.

—-

You stand in between Daemon and Rhaenyra, watching as Otto climbs the steps to the throne.

Daemon says something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “cunt,” but Otto starts talking before you can truly hear him.

“Though is is the great hope of this court that Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.” He sits, robes swishing out from behind him. “The crown will now hear the petitions.”

You admit, you are unsure of what is to happen in this hall. Rhaenyra poured over her speech with Daemon, practiced it in front of you, and while it was good, you do not know what Vaemond Velaryon is planning to say. What tricks he has pulled. The alliances he is in.

“Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon.”

The man shoots a look over to your side of the room, and you can practically feel Daemon’s anger in the air. He walks to the center, clasping his hands together.

“My Queen. My Lord Hand.”

Ah, you see. He means to use flattery, ploys of respect. Make it appear that he is good, benevolent and just. He would be a good ruler. He should rule.

“The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebears came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name. I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother’s seat. I am Corlys’s closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins.”

“As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon. If you cared so much about your house’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant it’s rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition.” It seems like she will go on, and you feel the urge to applaud her. She speaks well, levelheaded.

But the Queen sees it fit to interrupt her.

“You will have chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard.”

It was at this Ser Vaemond finally turned. His eyes passed over your family, Daemon, you, Rhaenyra, Luke, with Jace and Rhaena behind you.

“What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn’t recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours.” His gaze flicks to Luke, who sinks into himself. You long to press him close to you, save him from the cruel world. But Vaemond turns back to Throne, addressing the Queen and the Hand once more.

He inhales, bracing his feet.

“This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother’s successor… the Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides.”

“Thank you, Ser Vaemond.” Otto says, and he retreats back to his place.

Your eyes rest upon the Hightower Queen, her children. You admit, you barely know of them. Helaena, the only girl, is a Dragon Dreamer. Aemond is the one with the eyepatch, and Aegon is Rhaenyra’s rival in terms of the throne. But looking at him now, he seems uninterested. Blonde hair cut short, while most Targaryens keep it longer. He does not seem proud of his features, not like Daemon and Rhaenyra do.

“Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon.” She bows her head, walking to the center of the room almost lazily.

“If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, in this very-”

But she is cut off.

The doors open, and you see the figure of King Viserys, golden mask on his face and hunched over a cane. Even now, in his bone-thinness, in his weakness, it is undeniable that he commands a room.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen,” but the caller’s voice fades under the the loud banging of the King’s cane. He looks as he did the other day, as if it is a struggle to even stay alive. To breathe, his heart to beat. It only makes his walk more powerful, the eye’s of the court lighting up. They cannot resist a show.

You see Otto descend the steps of the Throne, his shocked and confused face. You watch as Viserys makes his way, golden crown upon his head.

He stops, and looks to Rhaenyra for a moment.

Before continuing, and whispering to Otto in a hoarse voice.

“I will sit the throne today.”

“Your Grace,” he nods. His power has been taken from him. He no longer commands this room.

Viserys continues his journey before stopping again, head leaning low to the ground. Guards rush forward, but he dismisses them. Finally, his crown falls. He leans his forehead against his cane, breaths uneasy and labored.

Suddenly, Daemon is leaning around him, picking up the crown.

You do not hear what Viserys says, but you see his posture change when he realizes who has come to his aid.

Daemon whispers something to him, and with his help, Viserys makes it to the throne. Daemon places the crown upon his head.

He stands there for a moment, before retreating. Rhaenyra returns beside you, as does Daemon.

You grab his limp hand, squeezing, but he does not acknowledge you. You do not blame him.

Viserys leans forward, and back again. Settling with a loud thump.

“I must… admit… my confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present… who might offer keener insight into Lord Corly’s wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”

The hall turns to her, and you see her falter for a moment. But she recovers quickly, bracing herself.

“Indeed, Your Grace.” She steps forward, stands with her hands clasped for a moment. “It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son… Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him.”

The hall is silent for a moment, and you can feel the tension from your entire family leave quickly. Positions are affirmed. Bloodlines secure.

“As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys’s granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena.”

You cannot but let your lips part, the rest of Rhaenys’s words falling away to you. The boys turn to Rhaenyra, and she only nods in confirmation. They look between each other. You do not know what to think.

You suppose you cannot judge, seeing as how your wife and husband are uncle and niece. Not to mention, you are distantly related to them yourself.

You worry that they will not find love in each other. They should never be met with contentment when they seek love. They should only burn, burn like you have.

“Well… the matter is settled. Again. I hearby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.” He let’s out a wheeze, and you find yourself dropping Daemon’s hand to stand in front of Luke.

He looks up at you, pure joy across his face, in a smile only you can see. You press him to your chest, keep him yours for just one more moment. His hand still rests in Rhaenyra’s, but you feel her caress your shoulder with her other hand.

“You break law…” You do not turn, the rage in Vaemond’s voice enough to warn you that you do not want to see it. But Luke pulls away, looking around you.

“Luke,” you swear you have to bite back a sob.

“-and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir.” You do not turn, you cannot. You grab Luke’s shoulders, attempting to ground yourself to him, to your love for him. “Yet you dare tell me… who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.”

“‘Allow it’?” Viserys asks, tone incredulous. “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

“That is no true Velaryon! Look at him, he hides behind the skirt’s of his parent’s whore like a child.”

“Go to your chambers,” Rhaenyra says, placing a hand on your shoulder and pushing you and Luke away. “You have said enough.” You wanted to leave, to take all of your children away from this wretched place. But none of them made a move to leave. So you stayed with them, as a mother should. Because you were their mother. Not by blood, but by something more than that.

“Lucerys is my true-both grandson. Daemon, Y/N and Rhaenyra were married as Aegon the conqueror was married to his two sisters. By the ways of Old Valyria. And you… no more than the second son of Driftmark.”

“You… may run your house as you see fit… but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And Gods be damned… I will not see it ended on account of this-” He stopped himself with a harsh inhale.

You turned. You did not know who he was addressing. But if you were to be insulted, you preferred to take it head on.

“Say it,” Daemon whispered.

“Her children… are bastards… raised in the company of… Both of your so-called wives, Prince Daemon, are a disgrace to any house they carry the blood of. And they… are… whores!”

The court gasped.

Luke reached for your hand through layers of skirts and you felt tears well in your eyes. Was this what the realm truly thought of your marriage? What they truly thought of you?

King Viserys stands, and your eyes blur with tears to see much of anything else clearly.

“I…” He breathes, taking his dagger out, “will have your tongue for that.”

But then you hear the sound of flesh splitting, of something hitting the floor. Once, twice. You blink your tears away, see the head of See Vaemond disconnected to his body.

“He can keep his tongue,” Daemon hisses.

“Disarm him!” Viserys shouts, and guards run forward. But Daemon only backs away, wiping blood off on his own clothes.

“No need,” he assures, heading back over to you and Rhaenyra. You stare at the dead body in shock, something like revulsion rising in your chest. You had never seen such blood… such unbridled rage and violence.

“D-Daemon-”

“I will not apologize for protecting my wives, Y/N.”

“But- but you- oh, I, I do not-”

But Viserys suddenly collapses on the throne, and Alicent screams for the maesters. You hear Rhaenyra call for her father, but is ignored.

A speck of blood rests on Daemon’s cheek.

You stare at it while the King is lead away, while servants rush forward to collect the body. You stare at it while he lets out a sigh, pleased at his revenge.

“You have blood on your cheek,” you whisper finally.

He meets your eyes.

“I am your sword. Your lover. Your husband. I had to. Besides, better mine than yours.”

—-

taglist:

@wondergal2001 @akiraquote @a-lil-bit-nuts @anginoguera @thatkinkylesgirl1 @stitchattacks @honeypillowsblog @kaloafd @blackhoodlea @softtina @wallace02sblog @tetgod @hotd-fanfic @rxscpctals

[i-like-sticks]

Petit Vampire combo !

Bois Dormante and the Gibbous

Bois Dormante and the Captain

Pandora and the Captain

Pandora and the Gibbous

Pandora and Douglas

The Captain and Nadou

Alrighty then!

-Bois Dormante and the Gibbous:

I admit, there CAN be some potential here but the way Sfar botched the whole situation up without any attempt to make it work out other then his little fake out was just...awful. And honestly, Bois Dormante deserves better both from Sfar and the fact she gets shafted with the ending he put in the film to be stuck with that incel. If things were different in writing, maybe. But its a very THIN maybe.

-Bois Dormante and the Captain:

This also sort of falls on how poorly Sfar's writing was for these characters. I do like the concept that they maybe did have a fling in the past, maybe, but he's married now and has moved on since. Her? She gets shafted as a jealous potential "ex" that just gets snotty when Pandora is around and when she is shafted with the worst possible decision Sfar can give her for a "happy" ending, the Captain is jealous and remorseful and it comes off as selfish.

I really hate this sort of thing. I get sometimes letting go of someone you loved then can be hard, but this would have been a grand moment for them both to accept things and move on, stay as good friends but know its not the end of the world. And that Bois Dormante doesn't need to be glued to someone's side to have purpose in life. Oh, Sfar... I have a LOT of complaints about your writing as much as I enjoy your creations.

-Pandora and the Captian

This is perhaps the best and most realistically written couple from his works and I mean it in full. They're ideal for each other and I just love how their chemistry works with and against each other. They argue like most couples do, but also find solutions and ways to work out their problems. Its never a he said, she said ordeal or "I hate my wife/husband" ordeal.

Long story short, from the comics to the show and even in the film, I adore them and love how they are written. Though I do have my gripes with the film version of them at times, which I have briefly mentioned with some things prior. I also do not stand for Sfar's current statement of how Pandora should and has to be written now. He can say all he wants but that is not the Pandora I knew and fell in love with as a character.

-Pandora and the Gibbous

I have some VERY strong feelings against this ship. The Gibbous is just.. awful in the film. He's a spoiled brat who never takes no for answer and goes to the extreme just to make a point to get what he wants. And when this is turned onto Pandora, no. Absolutely fucking not. There is no way in hell anyone can convince me he would be any good to her nor treat her well.

I know he appears once or twice in the show (its been a while I forget), but I don't think he has much association with her. I don't remember much for the comics as well aside from the current rewrite and small things here and there. But either way, that is a big NO from me.

-Pandora and Douglus

I honestly don't remember who Douglus was so I don't really have much to comment about this ship. But nah, not my cup of tea.

The Captain and Nadou

Another one of those "probable relationships in the past that maybe was more but idk" moments, but not something I care for to be honest. Maybe the two of them still being close as friends, but nothing beyond that really.

[blazenka]

Mirroring Identities

Connor Temple believed he was close to returning to his own timeline and home. Instead he finds himself in a world that should not exist while he struggles with non-existent memories. Can he ever remember his identity? Pre/post Alice. Post Primeval S3.

Original source: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6106179/1/Mirroring-Identities

Chapters: 13

Published: 2010-07-03 - 2010-09-06  

Words: 19945

Rated: Fiction T - Language: English - Genre: Romance/Drama - Characters: Abby M., Hatter - Reviews: 86 - Favs: 13 - Follows: 15

Exported with the assistance of FicHub.net

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

a

b

Chapter 12b:

Having to say goodbye to Abby had to be the hardest thing David had ever done. Even though he remembered his 'old' life it felt alien and foreign to him; he needed to leave it in the past. He realized if Abby could only admit her feelings after three years time then why would he give up on someone who trusted him after a couple days and could love him. At least Alice was willing to try.

David did wish happiness for Abby, she had mourned him and now it was best if she moved on. She had asked him if he would kindly invite her to his and Alice's wedding. David reassured Abby that he would. While they had spent so much time apart, he still considered her one… no, she was his best mate.

However, now as David hurried to the hotel, he needed to figure out a way to talk to Alice and hopefully, a way to redeem himself.

Alice tapped her booted foot impatiently in the hotel lobby, much to the dismay of the concierge. She couldn't help it despite how hard she tried. Alice was no one to run away from a situation, she usually ran straight head strong into them, but this whole ordeal with David and his past had drained the energy right out of her and she wanted nothing more than to return to New York. The only question now was if you would be returning alone or not.

Suddenly a worn fedora slides right in front of her. Fearing someone lost their precious hat, she reached to pick it up before two arms wrapped around her petite waist. Alice almost flipped whoever was behind her out of pure instinct before something stopped her. "Nice trick, huh?" an all too familiar voice beckoned. Alice

Alice turned with the hat in grasp to see a shakily grinning David looking down at her. "No, not at all," she replied as she eyed him suspiciously, "Are you…" she drew out, hoping her would get the meaning of her questioned but all too scared what his answer would be.

"This… you are my life now, Alice. Let's go home," David states softly as he moves to pick both of their suitcases off the linoleum floor. Yet, he did not expect Alice to start crying in the middle of public so unlike her usual character.

David immediately circles to the other side of the couch to comfort her. "You don't want me to return with you?" he cautiously asks her and is relieved when she shakes her head around messily indicating 'no'. "I thought… you weren't going to return this time," she muttered through weeping eyes.

David wheeled back as he tried to disguise the hurt in his eyes, the hurt her words caused. "How could you ever think I would leave you, Alice? Don't you trust me?" he asked, he thought he had knew the answer, apparently not.

Alice smiled before stating, "Sometimes I forget but then I remember… that I love you," she replied and David's heart soared. "You do?" he asked, thinking he misheard and his pride could not handle another blow. "Of course, why else would I agree to marry you?"

David's face broke out in full cocky signature grin before her gathered her up to spin her around the lobby in joyous exhibition for all too see. The concierge really did not approve of that but David quickly quieted and set Alice back down on the ground where her feet belonged. Alice had been so filled with joy she did not mind even being in the air like that, as if David could make all her fears go away now.

She smiled to herself as he shook her head, of course he could, this was Hatter she was talking about. "Let's go home," he repeats as he finally kisses her properly. Alice feels the stress of the last couple days melt away as she continues the kiss before a cough from the irritated concierge interrupts them. "We better get out of here before he decided to have some strong words with us," David smirks as he wiggles his eyebrows ever so suggestively and Alice can't help to laugh as they exit the hotel.

As they head to the airport, David informs Alice of his and Abby's goodbye; stating he promised to continue contact with her. Even went so bold as to suggest she give action man, Becker, a try. He seemed like her type, all true man like Stephen had been but much more loyal. He was someone she needed to deal with her past, not him. David also had told Abby he would invite her to the wedding and the whole team - it they wanted.

Alice couldn't help remark how caring he was. Solemnly, he replied, "It was my life, Alice. Those people were family to me and I can never forget them but I could never forgive myself for leaving you when I fought so hard to be here."

Alice smiled as she repeated her words from earlier, "I love you, David," so he could never doubt her again. "I love you too, Alice," so he would always trust her. They smiled and held hands as they boarded their plan home.

Thank you for reading.

previous chapter

[laineystein]

זכיתי כלכך 💚

The Boy™️ came home from work late tonight. Later than usual. I didn’t have dinner or anything cooked for him. You can roll your eyes. Yes, that’s expected. He’d do it for me. He has. He did for over a year when he was working from home and I practically lived at the hospital. He’d hear my keys at the door and he’d meet me, a trash bag in hand. I always immediately stripped out of my scrubs when I got home so we could throw them into the washer. A few times I was so tired and my body ached so badly that I couldn’t even stand. I collapsed more times than I could count, half-naked in his arms on the kitchen floor. I blocked a lot of it out, to be honest. I’m forever the girl with boundless energy. During 2020 my body didn’t even feel like mine. I was constantly in a brain fog - it wasn’t just those with covid who suffered that side effect but the medical professionals that treated them too.

Things have improved. But we all have this creeping feeling that the monster in the woods that we thought we had slayer never really died. And now that we recognize it through vaccines and variances we’re too tired to run. To be honest I’ve been getting home from work, showering, and then getting into sweats. Usually I end up on the couch with a book. Usually I don’t end up reading it. I scroll mindlessly through my phone. And when I motivate myself to get up and do something I can only manage a few pages in my siddur before I’m tired again. I’ve been crying a lot. I look like shit. I feel even worse. It no longer matters how well I eat or how disciplined my sleep and gym schedules are; there’s only so much the body and mind can take.

I genuinely thought we were all recovering. When they told us there’d be a second wave we didn’t give it much thought. We’d been through the worse and now we were better for it. We were vaccinated. Much of the population is vaccinated. If it got bad again, it could never be as bad as it was. Nothing could ever be that bad. This should all be easier.

Tonight I skipped the couch. Sadly I skipped my afternoon tefillah. I fell right into bed and when the Boy™️ got home I didn’t even get up to greet him. He called out for me and I didn’t answer. I had left the hallway light on so he knew I was home. He appeared in the doorway. “Lihi?” My head felt so heavy when I lifted it. And blinked. I didn’t even realize I had been crying. He sighed and came to me. I shook my head and laid back down. He pressed a hand to my thigh, then one to my shoulder for leverage as he leaned down to kiss my head. The tears I wasn’t even aware of came harder then. I continued to cry until I couldn’t anymore. Then I was just blinking at the moving shadow caused by the rotating ceiling fan. By the time he got out of the shower I was asleep again, woken up when he pulled the covers up over me and turned off the light.

Eventually I pulled myself together and went to him. He was in the kitchen making himself something to eat. I didn’t have the energy to apologize for not doing it for him. I just wrapped my arms around his waist and squeezed. I didn’t want to let go. When he wrapped his arms around me I felt my entire body relax. With it, a wave of chills, and a head that throbbed. He told me to go back to bed and when I didn’t he tossed me over his shoulder and brought me there himself. It was the first time I’d smiled since I got home. His laugh has never given me any alternative.

We didn’t talk. He knew I was awake but he didn’t push. He picked up the scrubs I’d left on the floor. He threw a load of laundry in. I heard him in my part of the closet, making sure I had clean scrubs for tomorrow - all things I usually do for myself before bed. Then he got into bed beside me. While I laid there staring into oblivion, listening to the downtown sounds muffled by the central air, I heard him take out his laptop. He put his glasses back on and got back to work.

I realized then how before we started dating he always worked so late. I realized now that he still worked late, only now he does it at home so I’m not alone. Even I, who often is out of bed at 1:30 in the morning to go to the gym and get to work by 3:00am, can’t afford him those same courtesies. He’s on a work call now (his company has offices all over the world so he often has meetings at unusual hours). Before he left the room he said: “Maybe I should just move uptown with you.” Another sacrifice I didn’t ask for, that he most certainly doesn’t owe me, that he somehow gave so little thought to because it already made so much sense to him. I didn’t say anything.

I don’t know when any of this will get better, especially because right now none of us know how bad it’s really going to get again. I don’t know if in a few years, when this is really all behind us, if my PTSD will still be this bad. There is so much of my future as a physician that feels so uncertain. But what I do know is that I am the luckiest girl to have someone like him in my life. I thank Hashem everyday for all he does for me and just for giving me this man that is so selfless and kind and gentle and loving. I adore him. There aren’t enough words in the lexicon to even touch upon how much he means to me. But out of all of the feelings that completely overwhelm me everyday: defeat, exhaustion, frustration - being loved by him and having the privilege to love him in return is my favorite by far.

[hush-writes-preg]

A Priceless Gift

Commission for:  Anon M Word count: 1,086 Prompt:  A continuation of Anon M's overalls birth with quints scenario.   Tw: Birth

The back garden is lovely this time of year.  The birds are singing, the flowers are in full bloom, and you, my beautiful wife, are on your hands and knees in the midst of it, giving birth to our children.  I can't imagine a better way to end the day.

It's a shame that you were so determined to wear those overalls today, because that quintuplet belly of yours could barely fit into them.  Now the denim is wet and clinging to you even more desperately.  It's clinging to our firstborn, too, cradling them half in and half out of your body in the midst of your labor, keeping you from passing them completely.  

But you've got this.  I know you do.  

The sight of your massive belly pressed against the ground as you rock against it like a birth ball is absolutely stunning, your milk-laden breasts bulging from the top of your overalls.  As they say, you're all baby, a petite woman with an obscenely swollen abdomen packed full of my offspring, and I can't tear my eyes away from you.  

Breathe, darling.  You can get the straps off if you stop panicking, though I'm not sure you'll be able to get the rest of it over your belly or even past your hips on your own.  Thankfully the legs are pretty baggy even if the waist isn't.  I can see you struggling with the clasps, but I know it’s hard when every new contraction makes you lose your focus.  

Huffing, puffing, moaning, the sounds of your labor are nearly as musical as the sounds you make when I’m deep inside of your beautiful pussy.  Another strong contraction hits and sends you wailing, arching your hips back as if that would somehow help to coax the infant free.  I wonder what you’ll give me first– a little girl?  A little boy?  Whatever it is, I know you’ll make me proud.  

Finally, you manage to free the straps and start pushing at the bib, but the flare of your belly and hips keeps it from moving down too much.  It is just enough, however, to give you the space you need to finish birthing our firstborn; I hear you gasp as the baby slithers free and down one leg, held snuggly against you by your denim prison.  That should ease up some of the pressure, yeah?  Only three more to go.

I bet you wouldn’t have imagined yourself in such a position when you married me just over a year ago, but I doubt you’d complain.  We both know you relish your submission and the firm control I keep over your life, just as I adore the sweet warmth of your body and your selfless willingness to serve.  You knew what you were getting into when we wed– forgoing your old life and taking on a new one as my helpmate, my homemaker, and the mother of my children.  And I remember the smile on your face when one of our first outings as a married couple was to the office of our local fertility clinic.  We were both so eager to get started on a large family.  

No man could ask for a better mate.

The rhythmic sounds of your Lamaze breathing are unmistakable before you take a deep breath and bear down, the pained, whimpering grunt filling the air.  Something bulges at the wet crotch of your pants before receding again, and you let out a frustrated cry.  

Are you already crowning for me, love?  Did our second little one already slide so quickly through you after the first opened you up?  Try to relax and remember your childbirth classes.  I know you can do this.

Another contraction, another attempt at pushing, but the wet cloth stretched so tightly over your opening is making things hard.  I am tempted to come help, but you haven’t asked me to, and we both know that this is your fight.  I might be your god, but your body is my temple, and your womb the divine vessel for holding my seed and bearing our children.  It’s your duty to bring them into the world for me.

Your pretty hands clutch at a fallen piece of laundry in frustration, your face hidden from my view as you sink lower into a crouch and grunt in an entirely unladylike fashion.  The groin of your overalls distends once more around the emerging infant’s head, no longer retreating as you manage to get it past the widest point of the skull.  But it’s still not enough, even with its first sibling mewling from the leg of your pants.  You’ve got so much farther to go, and they’re not moving fast enough.

You glance back, reaching towards me in a silent plea.  

How can I possibly deny you that?

That’s how I end up at your side, running reverent hands over your gravid body before popping the side buttons you were unable to open on your own.  Just like that, I can pull the fabric back and down, revealing the rounded swell of your perfect bottom and the quivering opening just beneath.  A dark thatch of hair is visible within you, eager to split you open again and find freedom.  I fish our firstborn from your clothing and set them aside, wrapping them in a clean towel that you’ll have to wash again later, and then give you my full attention.

You’re tired and the babies are stubborn, but still you follow the instructions I give you.  My hand is warm against your leaking pussy as I cradle each emerging head and help guide it into the world.  The third comes out a bit easier, smaller than its siblings and sliding free from your overstretched opening with little effort.  The fourth is more stubborn, turned at a slight angle that slows their progress and leaves you sobbing as you push and push and push, until you finally let out a primal wail and bear down with all your might, forcing the child free in a gush of fluid.

Just like that, you’ve fulfilled your purpose.  Just like that, you’ve given me the greatest gift you could ever hope to present to me– our children.  

Panting, whimpering, and clinging to me like a child yourself with your overalls around your knees, we rest together in the center of our garden.  Your belly is empty now, though still swollen, but we won’t leave it that way for long.  This I promise you, my love.

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Friday Kiss Tag Game

Tagged by @aohendo! Thanks for the tag!

Tagging: @rose-bookblood @evethenovicewriter @pluttskutt @lockejhaven @the-void-writes @flowerprose @bloodlessheirbyjacques and @memento-morri-writes (because I think you’ll appreciate this)

Sequel to this

TW for some intense kissing

“I hear you want a divorce.”

Niccolo’s voice betrayed no emotion. His words were cold and detached, like he was conducting a routine business deal.

“This isn’t about what I want.” Enrico’s voice shook as he responded, and he turned away so Niccolo couldn’t see the tears in his eyes. 

Why was Niccolo making this so hard? It’s not like he would suffer--Enrico was the one about to walk down the aisle with a madman, and Niccolo would lose the stain to his reputation that came with being the husband of a traitor. If anything, Enrico was stunned that Niccolo hadn't petitioned for divorce earlier.

“Please. You’re one of the most powerful men in the world. Everything is about what you want. Suppose I’m not good enough now that you’re Imperatore. What exactly persuaded you to accept Nero’s proposal, Your Majesty?”

He spat the honorific like a curse. 

“It’s not you! I didn’t think you’d care! He told me that the Consiglio might like me better if I married an heir, and I figured my life can’t get any worse, so why not? Why are you so upset?” 

All of Enrico’s energy was now being put into not breaking down in front of his soon-to-be former husband.

“Didn’t think I’d...what the actual fuck?! You don’t need him! I can be all of that for you! Wouldn’t you rather have the heir to the oldest house? I was Leandro’s Rex for a decade, surely I could garner you more respect than a universally hated man, despised by everyone except himself!”

Enrico knew all of that, of course he did. But he couldn’t bear the idea of Niccolo coming back to him for the sake of politics. He would rather spend the rest of his life in a loveless union with a man he despised, than to have the love of his life with him out of duty.

“I...It’s not...” Enrico managed to stammer out, before losing the battle with his emotions and starting to weep.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell,” Niccolo said, momentarily forgetting his heartbreak and anger to wipe the tears from Enrico’s face.

As embarrassed as he was to be crying, Enrico wasn’t eager to stop. Not if his tears meant Niccolo would touch him. He couldn’t help but savor their last moments together.

Once he’d calmed down, Enrico said: “Sorry about that.”

“No need to be,” Niccolo appeared to be considering something. He had the furrow in his eyebrow that usually indicated he was plotting a genius political strategy or military tactic.

Before Enrico could think anymore, he was being tugged into a bruising kiss.

As shocked as he was, he responded immediately, wrapping his arms around Niccolo’s neck and kissing him back with equal fervor. Even after so much time apart, they still fit together so easily.

Enrico felt himself being pressed against the wall, as Niccolo moved from his mouth to his neck.

When they finally came up for air, foreheads still pressed together, Niccolo whispered: “If this is about love, tell me. If you want him, I’ll let you go.”

“Of course I don’t! It’s only ever been you for me. I won’t marry him if you’re upset enough that you felt the need to do this.”

Enrico might not understand Niccolo’s opposition, but he knew he would do anything to make him happy. He just wanted to stop hurting the people he loved.

“You still don’t get it, do you? I love you! I’ve been off in the country pining for you like a lovesick fool, and you get engaged to my enemy without even asking for a divorce in person! Of course I’m upset! I know I’m humiliating myself by coming here, I just needed to see you, see if this is really what you want.”

“None of this is what I want! You think I wanted this crown? A constant reminder of my biggest failure? No, but I’m stuck with it anyway!” Enrico finally lost his temper.

“I thought,” Niccolo started, “that if you were in trouble, that if it was this bad, you’d have come to me. I told myself that you had to have done it on purpose. But I should’ve known. You were alone in this snake’s nest, suffering, and I was feeling sorry for myself. I understand if you can’t forgive that, but darling, I always want to be there for you.”

Enrico felt tears welling up in his eyes again at Niccolo’s pronouncement.

“Stay,” was all he could choke out before the sobs started.

Niccolo pulled him into a comforting hug.

“Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.”

[mytalemyworld]

Yaver: Brother, are you okay? Sadi: I am in depression. When I dump someone, it's bad. When I get dumped, it's worse.

He couldn’t handle the fact that he got dumped by his fake wife. Drama queen. Lol.

By the way this conversation took place after he’d talked to Derya, so it's very meaningful. This is Karma and he is aware of that.

Sadi: Don't fall in love and get married.

I can’t with him.

Sadi: Have you seen an attractive, petite woman whose height is around 1.70 cm, probably wearing a black jacket on the train just left?

Hahahaha he was describing her with his subjective opinions. That's so cute, because he thinks it's obvious that she's attractive.

Sadi: There is no more fork or switch on the road.

HE REALLY SAID THAT. HE REALLY SAID THAT.

When he read this poem on the wall of the restaurant after he'd seen Derya, he thought he wouldn't move on from his past, the past would continue suffocating him, the road he chose wouldn't be smooth and he wouldn't be able to keep walking.

And then he confronted Derya, asked her for forgiveness and she let him know there is no hard feelings between them, not anymore at least.

Not wanting to ruin this second chance either, he is ready to hold Songül’s hand without having a guilty conscience. So determined to the point where he could stand on the middle of the railroad. Because he refuses to accept a new life in which he doesn't have Songül.

Oh myyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, just when he thought he lost her trace and probably couldn't bring her back, she appeared on the other side after the train had left and we saw she was already waiting for him.

Songül: I couldn't do it. Sadi: Is it because you forgot to take something? Songül: Yes. I didn't take menengiç (*) with me. Sadi: I know a home that has it.

His voice trembled when he said "I know a home that has it." (what a great acting!) I legit teared up. They were both overwhelmed by their emotions, you can see how the thought of being apart ruined them, then reuniting brought a flood of relief and joy and they were still a mess.

(*) menengiç is a type of coffee, his favorite drink, and even though she didn't like it at the beginning, she's became used to and kinda addicted to it later. So this is such a good metaphor.

And this is the story of how I died my friends.

[mizunetzu]

Kuroo x reader - Kuroo’s Pocky Scheme!

⚠️ Warnings - Kuroo being a desperate simp, none!!

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

Kuroo stared at the doorknob to the schools kitchen-y room. It was such a desperate, bottom-of-the-barrel move, but he was literally just that. A desperate simp.

He sighed and pushed open the door, more forcefully than he intended. A small, blonde girl jumped and whipped her petite form around.

Kuroo raised his arms in defense. “I come in peace, Yachi-san.”

The girl, Yachi, visibly relaxed. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “O-oh...you’re...sorry, I don’t remember your name, but you’re Nekoma’s captain right? Oh god, what if you told me your name and I forgot gosh I am so-“

“No-no! It’s fine, I dont think we’ve ever talked.” Kuroo nudged the door shut, and dropped his voice into a whisper. “Ok, hear me out. I gotta huge-and-kinda-stupid favor to ask.”

“M-m-me?! Wh-wh-whaddya need from me?!”

“Well-calm down, I don’t ‘need’ much from you, no offense.” Kuroo leaned against the door. “Uh-first lemme explain-and promise not to make a big deal outta this, okay?”

Yachi nodded. Kuroo looked around the room, seeing only Yachi and a big watermelon inside.

“So. I may or may not have a tiny...crush, on (Y/n).”

Yachi blinked. “Wait, who’s (Y/...(Y/n)..? (L/n) (Y/n)?! Oh my-!”

“That’s besides the point!” Kuroo flushed, waving his hands up to hush Yachi. He felt so pathetic. He felt like a desperate schoolgirl, coming up with ideas on how to get his crush to notice him with his school girl friends.

“Anyways,” Kuroo shakily ran a hand through his untamable hair. “I’m...uh, I’m kind of desperate, and I feel like I’m gonna explode if I don’t...kiss him soon.” That last part came out in a mumble. He shook his head.

Kuroo snapped a finger at Yachi. “That’s where you come in.”

Yachi nodded dumbly. She really had no incentive to helping out this...tall, scary man. But, if she recalled correctly, (Y/n) was close friends with him-so he should be perfectly safe, right?

“I need you,” Kuroo fished a red box of Pocky out of his Nekoma jacket. “To go up to (Y/n), and ask if you can kiss him. He’ll probably say no, but if you ask him and say you’ll do it Pocky-game style, he’ll say yes. He never rejects food.”

Yachi deadpanned. Then, she erupted into vast shades of red. “W-wait-! But I don’t like him! Why do I have to kiss him-!”

“No! Let me finish!” Kuroo was losing his cool. His desperate simp was really showing, huh. “Once he says yes, tell him to keep his eyes closed because you’re embarrassed or something, and while his eyes are closed-you and me will switch places and I’ll eat the Pocky in your place! I get my kiss, and I’ll owe you absolutely anything!”

Yachi sputtered. What if it went wrong? What if he didn’t switch in time and her poor first kiss was taken by this boy she wasn’t that interested in? He’d think she was interested in him and she’d have to marry him and have to live in a cave hiding for the rest of her life-!

“I’ll do it.” A mature, level headed voice suddenly pipped up. Kuroo and Yachi both flinched in suprise. The door softly pushed open.

“But if I may, I do have a few suggestions.” Kiyoko scratched at her collar, walking in and inspecting the two.

“Yeah-me too.” Yaku follower in after Kiyoko, sending a mocking lifted gaze over to Kuroo. Kuroo looked away in embarrassment. “Like, I don’t know, be more quiet so everyone-including (L/n)-kun, doesn’t hear about your stupid Pocky plan.”

Kuroo usually would’ve opened his mouth to retort, but Yaku could easily warn (Y/n) of his plan, and it would immediately fall into shambles. He probably wouldn’t get his kiss then. Kuroo, regretfully, kept his mouth shut.

“Anyways,” Kiyoko cut in, breaking the heated glare Yaku and Kuroo gave eachother. “I can ask him in Hitoka-chan’s place. But, I do have a few concerns.”

Kiyoko held her finger up. “One-how do we know he’s going to say yes in the first place? Even with the Pocky-“

“No, no. (Y/n) never refuses anything to do with food. I even got him to forcefully drag Kenma out of his room by offering to cook him dinner last year. He and Kenma had bruises all over. A kiss is nothing to him.”

Kiyoko hummed, seemingly accepting Kuroo’s answer. She held up her second finger. “Second, how will we-well I, ask him without seeming suspicious? If I ask him alone, and we do it alone, that won’t give Kuroo-san the opportunity to slip in and switch with me.”

“But if she asks him and all if us are, y’know, there, he’ll think somethings up or we’re tryna make fun of him.” Yaku finished her thought. Kiyoko nodded.

Kuroo blinked. He didn’t think this far. “Uh...”

“W-well, what if Shimizu-senpai asked (L/n)-kun while he was talking to uhm...Kuroo-senpai, and he tags along because he wants to just...be there...and Shimizu-senpai takes him to a room where me and...sorry, I-I don’t really know your name but-“ Yachi pointed at Yaku. “To a room with me and him in it?”

Yaku blinked. “Wait, wouldn’t it be suspicious If Shimizu took him into a room just to find us sitting there?”

“W-well...Wouldn’t it be more suspicious and awkward for Kuroo-senpai to be there alone with them? We can just, sit there and pretend to talk with Kuroo-senpai until (L/n)-kun closes his eyes.”

“Holy shit, that’s a great idea...” Kuroo rubbed his head in disbelief. If he had gone through with his original plan, he would’ve failed so hard. “Well then-what are we waiting for? Lets go-“

“I have one more thing.” Kiyoko turned to Yachi.

“Hitoka-chan, if what Kuroo-san is saying is true, we should have no problem asking him to do the Pocky game with me, but realistically, it would make more sense if you ask him.”

Yachi’s eyes widened. Kiyoko continued. “I’m a year above him, and since much upperclassman girls don’t...idolize and fawn over underclassman like the ones in his grade or first-years do, it would feel a bit weird if I asked him.”

“You, on the other hand,” Kiyoko grabbed the box of Pocky from Kuroo’s hands and placed them gently on Yachi’s. “Are perfect for this, since girls like you seem to gravitate towards (L/n)-kun. The ‘shy-girl-who-wants-to-kiss-her-crush’ type. And we’ll reenforce it with the Pocky according to Kuroo-san.”

Yachi was quiet for a second, then she opened her mouth. “O-okay...I guess I’m doing it then...”

“Wheey!” Kuroo clapped his hands. “You guys are so nice, helping me with my boy problems.”

Yaku jabbed a finger at Kuroos face. “Yeah, you owe us big time Mr. Docosahexaenoic face.”

“You aren’t even doing anything, though.”

——

“(Y-Y/-!” Yachi was standing behind (Y/n). Her mumbles of “(Y/-!” were practically inaudible as the sticks inside the Pocky box rattled around in her shaking fingers. Kuroo side eyed Yachi, nudging his head to (Y/n)-who was talking to him so obliviously-egging her to go on.

“(L/n)-kun!” Yachi tensed and downcast her whole head, suddenly finding immense interest in the small rip in her shoes. (Y/n) turned around, facing away from Kuroo.

“Yes? Yachi-san? Did you need—is that Pocky? Can I have some?”

Yachi almost threw the box straight into the air. (Y/n) had his eyes fixated hungrily on the Pocky box, pointing at it gently with his hand. Yachi cleared her throat nervously. She felt her heart hammering in her chest.

“I-I-please don’t take this in a weird way but-c-can I k-k-kiss you-?!”

Yachi bowed down in a sharp 90 degree angle, making (Y/n) step back awkwardly. He looked at Kuroo, who gave him an innocent shrug, and looked back at Yachi.

“Uh-I’m sorry, Yachi-san, I don’t really-“

“We can do it Pocky game style! A-and I’ll let you have all of the Pocky afterwards! Please! Please! Please!”

(Y/n) eyes flickered back and forth from the box of Pocky up to Yachi’s sweaty, bowing hair. He really wanted that Pocky too. It was just a kiss, he never really cared about sentimental things like “first kisses” and whatnot. Plus, he’d get a whole box of Pocky afterwards.

“Okay then.”

“Really?!” Yachi raised her head, and (Y/n) nodded.

“You better keep your end of the deal and give me the Pocky afterwards, though.”

“I promise I will-!” Yachi stiffly bowed again, before trotting off with (Y/n) trailing behind her. “W-we can do this in the managers bed rooms!”

“Ok...” They walked in awkward silence. After a few seconds of contemplating, (Y/n) turned around.

“Tetsu, why are you coming?”

Kuroo shrugged. “Am I not allowed to come? I want some Pocky too.”

(Y/n) pursed his lips. “I mean I give you like, two, but don’t you think you’ll make Yachi-san uncomf-“

“It’s fine! I-I don’t care if he comes!” Yachi said a bit too quickly. (Y/n) eyed her suspiciously. Both Kuroo and Yachi broke into a cold sweat.

“...okay...let’s keep going, then.”

Yachi and Kuroo let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding.

——

“Hello.”

“Yo.”

Yaku held up a peace sign while Kiyoko waved. (Y/n) raised an eyebrow, waving back.

“I thought we were doing this in private?”

Yachi tensed. “W-well this is private enough for me...”

(Y/n) softly plucked the box of Pocky away from Yachi, walking away from them to sit down and open the box. Yachi and Kuroo shared a knowing, determined glance while Yaku and Kiyoko pretended to immerse themselves in conversation.

(Y/n) fished out a Pocky stick, and sat cross-legged on the bed mats. He waved it around, eventually settling to pointing it towards Yachi. “Sit down, so we can do this.”

“Yes!” Yachi dropped down abruptly, sitting in front of (Y/n). Kuroo walked over as nonchalant as possible and plopped down near Yachi. (Y/n) looked at him skeptically.

“Whaaaat. I just wanna see my good friend (Y/n) have his first kiss.”

“Pervert. Just say you wanna kiss Yachi-san and leave, you creep. Or do you wanna kiss from me instead?”

(Y/n) soft clad smile turned into a teasing smirk, making Kuroo break into another cold sweat. His heart started picking up speed once (Y/n) placed a Pocky stick, chocolate side first, between his lips. They looked so soft.

“C-close your eyes please, (Y/n)-kun.”

(Y/n) hummed from the stick in his mouth. “Eh? But they’re already...closed?”

“I-I meant keep them closed! ...this is...this is embarrassing so-!”

“Gotcha, Yachi-san. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” (Y/n’s) gentle smile reappeared as he smiled with the biscuit in his mouth. “Now, bite on to the Pocky already.”

Yachi turned over to Kuroo. Kuroo, as slowly as he could, shuffled his way into Yachi’s previous spot, in time while Yachi backed away. Yachi could see the way Kuroo’s hands shook as he placed himself down in-front of (Y/n), who was waiting ever-so-patiently with his fingers tracing the Pocky box.

“Yachi-san?” (Y/n’s) confused voice came out a bit muffled. Yachi squeaked out a quick “G-give me a second-!”, and (Y/n) couldn’t help but tell how far her voice sounded, even if it was just sightly father. Eh, he was probably just imagining things.

Kuroo was sweating buckets. He never thought his plan would work so smoothly. Hell, he didn’t think he’d actually be going through with it in the first place.

“God, hurry it up Kuuuua...” Yaku trailed off into a cough. “-Yachi-san. Hurry up ‘Yachi-san’, and stop staring at (L/n)-kun like that.”

Kuroo glared at Yaku, almost responding with a “shut the fuck up!”, before letting his mouth clamp shut frustratedly. He looked at Yachi for assistance. Yachi got the memo, and responded with a “I-I’m trying-! I’m just so nervous...!”

“Awwe...don’t be nervous, Yachi-san! Just think of it like we’re eating Pocky and our lips just so happen to touch.” (Y/n) smiled, and licked his lips the best he could. The chocolate part of his end was starting to melt, and the stick was getting soft in his mouth.

“The Pocky is melting...”

“I-I-I’m on it! Sorry, I’m doing it now..!” Yachi frantically motioned at (Y/n) to Kuroo. Kuroo nervously gestered back, as if to say “I’m fuckin’ trying..!”

Kuroo gulped, trying to swallow the lump in his throat, and closed his lips around the Pocky stick. This was really happening. He was going to kiss his long time crush. He was going to kiss (Y/n). Oh god, he’s awfully close. He’s closer than he’s ever been. Why won’t his heart just shut up and calm down?

Before he knew it, (Y/n) was nibbling at his end of the biscuit. The distance was becoming shorter. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready. He thought he was fully prepared to come into this all suave and nonchalant, but now that it was happening all of his preparedness flew out the window. He starting eating at his end of the stick aswell.

Both (Y/n) and Kuroo stopped eating once there was less than a inch of the stick separating them. (Y/n) briefly felt ‘Yachi’s’ nose brush against his, and Kuroo could feel the barely noticeable breaths of air from his nose.

The room was silent. Either that, or the vociferous thumping of his heart rate picking up speed drowned out Yaku and Shimizu’s voices.

And now that he was closer, he could see just how nervous (Y/n) was. His eyelids were fluttering, his brows were slightly pulled down, his nose was scrunched up just a tad, and his fingers were nervously tracing the packaging of the Pocky box. Even if it was cute, Kuroo couldn’t help but feel a bit bad.

But a plan was a plan. And he’d been waiting for years.

Kuroo broke down the last remaining barrier from his lips to (Y/n’s), letting the small Pocky nub lay on his tongue as he connected their lips together. He heard a small “yaay.” From who he assumed was Shimizu, and an obnoxious “Get it, ‘Yachi-san’!”, followed by a wolf whistle from Yaku.

He felt (Y/n) push closer, tentatively and unintentionally grabbing hold of Kuroo’s hand in the process. Kuroo intertwined his fingers with (Y/n’s), and that touch alone probably gave him away, but he couldn’t care less. (Y/n) could coil away in disgust right now, and he wouldn’t care. He got his kiss. A kiss that tasted like Pocky and (Y/n). A kiss he’s been waiting for for forever. His, and (Y/n’s), first.

Kuroo was the first to pull away. Half lidded and breathless, he sat back on his ass with a sigh. (Y/n) started to open his eyes, when Yachi’s scrambled to cover them.

“D-don’t look..! Please! I-I’m-uh, I’m still...embarrassed..!” Yachi looked back at Kuroo, who seemed to have come back to his senses, and shuffled back into the spot he was in originally. Yachi crawled over back in front of (Y/n), and removed her hands gently. She placed them in her lap, looking down with a blush no one in that room could tell was genuine or real good acting.

(Y/n) opened his eyes softly. His smile returned to his swollen lips, and he leaned his head on his palm. “That wasn’t so scary, right?”

(Y/n) clasped his hands together. “Congrats, you can officially say you stole (L/n) (Y/n’s) first kiss! Now you got something to brag about, huh, Yachi-san?” (Y/n) chuckled, still feeling the warmth of ‘Yachi’s’ lips pressed against his.

Yaku scoffed quietly. “Yeah, aha. ‘Yachi’ stole your first kiss.” He earned a flick to the forehead by Kiyoko.

Yachi stood up abruptly. “I-I’m gonna go! Uh-..brag...to my...f-friends.”

“Don’t go spreading rumors about me though.” (Y/n) looked up at Yachi, who squeaked out a “Yessir!” In reply. Kiyoko stood up aswell.

“I’m going to go with Hitoka-chan. See you three.” Kiyoko walked over to Yachi, seemingly ushering her out the door discreetly and shooting Yaku a look. Yaku stood up aswell.

“Well I don’t wanna be in here with you two. Pretty Boy and Docosahexaenoic Face. I’m gonna go see what Kai or Shibayama-kun is doing.”

Yaku shoved his hands in his pockets and walked out of the room, leaving Kuroo and (Y/n) sitting there alone.

Kuroo laid down on the floor next to (Y/n), resting his arms on the back of his neck like a cushion. (Y/n) sat there placidly, smiling at his reward that was the Pocky box.

(Y/n) fished a stick out, and munched on it happily. Kuroo looked at (Y/n), and closed his eyes with a smirk.

“So, how’d it feel having your first kiss with a cute girl?“

(Y/n) hummed, and took another bite of his snack.

“You’re not a bad kisser, Tetsu.”

Kuroo choked on his words. (Y/n) crunched on another Pocky stick. Kuroo sputtered and shot back up, staring at (Y/n) with wide, embarrassed eyes.

“Wh-h-how-wait-“

“To be honest you would’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for, hm, 3 things.”

(Y/n) held up a single Pocky stick. “Number one. When our hands touched. It was pretty obvious your hand was too big to be Yachi-san’s, so that was a bit suspicious.”

Kuroo opened his mouth to say something. (Y/n) pulled out another Pocky stick.

“Two. When we broke the kiss, I heard you grunt. You would have literally no reason to do that unless you, per se, break a kiss and need to breathe in. And your voice, again, is too deep to be Yachi-san’s.”

Kuroo couldn’t do anything but helplessly stare at him, as he pulled out a third Pocky stick.

“Three.” (Y/n) set all three biscuits into Kuroo’s lap, to which he absentmindedly picked up. “You don’t really think I couldn’t see you? My eyes were open right up until we started eating the Pocky, Tetsurou. I was squinting...and you all were acting suspicious, so how could I not? Not to mention how weird it was for you to be sitting so conveniently close to me and Yachi-san.”

“If anything, if you weren’t planning something and you actually just wanted to watch, you would’ve sat near Yaku-kun once you saw him.”

Kuroo averted his eyes and broke a Pocky stick with his teeth, chewing on it to fill his mouth and prevent him from saying something stupid.

“And, even if none of those things happened,” (Y/n) pulled out another stick, this time twirling it around in his fingers. “I heard you discussing your ‘plan’ earlier in the kitchen. You really need to work on your volume, like Yaku-kun said.”

(Y/n) stood up, stretching his arms with a small groan. All Kuroo could do was stare up at him dumbly. He almost had a perfect scheme. Almost.

(Y/n) turned his head around, his back still facing Kuroo. “Next time you wanna kiss, buy me dinner and we can suck spaghetti noodles until it meets in the middle. Y’know, like in that one movie.”

(Y/n) waved around his Pocky box in farewell. “I’m gonna go see what Kenma and Hinata-kun are doing. Later, Tetsu.”

(Y/n) timpered off, shutting the door behind him. Kuroo stared at the door blankly.

“(Y/n), you sneaky bastard.”

——————

Happy new year!!

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Emperor: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

synopsis: Being a servant of the Emperor is a unique position that requires multiple positions.

wc: 1.7k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

As you stare at the pink moon hanging low in the sky, you try to remember every single moment that brought you here to the Imperial Palace.

Studious.

You had been a girl who sought to put her head in books instead of learning how to be a wife. There had been five of you in your little group of young girls who sought to improve their minds instead of improving their station by marriage.

And the girls who sought to marry well were not wrong for doing so. Neither were you wrong for wanting to improve your mind with the other men, with who you would never be caught dead socializing. As far as everyone knew, you would not subject yourself to the torture of being affiliated with dalliances. No, you didn't have time for that.

But...

Then you had been snatched from the halls of the library and drug back to your home, the hands of the Imperial soldiers carrying you past your mother and father, who chased after you - horrified and tearful.

At first, you thought you had committed some unfathomable crime and would be punished by the Emperor himself. All signs pointed to you being a criminal due to how the soldiers threw you into a dingy and cramped carriage, one that was not fit for even a lowly citizen to ride in. But when you arrived at the Palace less than an hour later, you stepped into an uncertain future.

With tall walls covered in flowers you didn't know the names of - yet - and fountains in a courtyard made of azure tile, you were sure that you had been deposited in a place too grand for a criminal. There was no way the men who dropped you from the carriage and into the garden were going to kill you. And after a man with long, blonde hair and a bored look approached your stunned figure in the midst of all of the beauty, he held out a hand, called you by your name, and told you he would be your attendant.

But despite the fantastic set of arrangements, the reason why you were now in the palace of Emperor Fushiguro set in before anyone told you.

"Concubine." The word floated around your town when the Emperor's wife died several years ago, but to your knowledge, there had been many women picked for His Holiness's pleasure after that. You'd be the first in over six years, as far as anyone was aware.

And you were.

You are.

You're reminded of this when there's a knock on your door, startling you out of your reverie and bringing you back to the present.

"You may enter," you whisper, pulling the pins out of your hair. Emperor Fushiguro likes your hair down. The large man enters the shadowy room silently, his robes swishing about as he approaches. You stand from your bed and exhale softly, eyeing the green-eyed royal as his feet step to your own.

"How have you been since I last saw you?" he wonders, tilting your chin up with his index finger. "Are you sleeping well?"

"I'm fine, your Holiness," you reply, touching his hand tenderly. "I am well. How are you feeling?" Toji looks at the moon outside, the scar on his lips twitching up slightly.

"I am exhausted," he admits, shoulders slumping.

"Tell me about your day," you encourage him, motioning to the bed. "I am here to listen." And Toji begins regaling his day to you as you rake your fingers through his hair and hum at the appropriate times, letting him be heard in the dim light of your bedroom. When he finishes (usually him just trailing off and staring at the ceiling), you press a kiss to his forehead.

"I will go to the temple in the morning and pray for a resolution to your issues, your Holiness." Toji reaches a hand up to caress your bottom lip, looking into your eyes.

"You are the only concubine who has extended such kindness to me," he breathes. You know this is not true and that's he's just buttering you up for what comes next. Though, you're not sure why.

Because every time you lay underneath him, beside him, on top of him, however he desires to have you that night... you enjoy it. You genuinely enjoy it.

And as Toji disrobes you carefully, fingers raking across your skin like the breath of the wind, you tangle yourself around him, holding his face in your hands, holding him close, holding him for as long as you can, which he adores.

Tonight, you hold him against you as he kisses your lips, your fingers tugging his short black hair as your body squirms underneath his massive frame.

"Eager," he hums against your skin, and you moan as two fingers dip into your core, playing with your slick while the other grabs your breast. Whether it's his practice with the other concubines or his deceased wife, you don't know. But it seems that Toji can play you to his liking, drawing sounds out of you like a skilled harpist. And every night he'd come to visit you, it would be the same way - he'd make a small symphony, then leave when the sun came up to return to running the country.

Toji reminds you of his skill as he rubs your clit repeatedly, lips latching onto your nipple and toying with it before moving to the other.

"Your Holiness," you exhale, but the Emperor whispers,

"Please. Call me Toji while I am with you, y/n." You nod as he kisses down your stomach and lifts your legs over his broad shoulders, hands roaming over your thighs as he spreads them apart. When his cool tongue sinks into your cunt, you stiffen, grasping one of his hands for leverage.

"Toji..." you moan, but he doesn't answer you as his tongue flicks back and forth, preparing you and tasting you at the same time. His eyes flick up to watch your face, which makes your toes curl. Just like he knew they would.

As he toys with you, you can hear his soft grunts of pleasure, feel the kisses, touch his soft hair as his head moves around, and watch him devour you earnestly. All of your senses light up at once, bringing you to a climax you didn't expect when his hands tug your nipples until you're overstimulated and shaking underneath his mouth.

"Oh, gods," you cry out, and Toji hums, speeding up his movements. "I'm going to cum," you pant in response, but he doesn't let up, tipping you over the edge with his ministrations and making your body quiver violently.

You only stop shaking when you feel his cockhead at your entrance, and you wonder how long you'd been trembling as he shirked off his clothes.

"Oh!"

Toji slides into you easily, his girth the only one you'd ever felt in your entire life. When he bottoms out inside of you, he moans, then leans down to capture your lips in his.

"Slow, slow..." you whisper, pressing your hands against his shoulders.

"I know... Shh, shh, shh..." he replies, kissing down your neck and removing your hands tenderly. "I know you like my own mind, my little nightingale." You exhale slowly, legs still shaking as he pumps into you carefully. "You're the only one that sings for me like you do." Another kiss is pressed to your lips. "The only one that attends to me like you do." And another. "The only one I can trust."

His words sink to the pit of your stomach, and you feel some sort of emotion welling up inside of you. But it's quickly pushed down when Toji's teeth sink into the fleshy part of your ear. You jerk a little, clenching around him, and he hisses before chuckling. "Works every time."

And you love it, every single moment of this. Toji speeds up his strokes, making you moan and pant in time with him.

"You're the only one that really enjoys this," he breathes, sweat dripping down from his forehead. You look into his eyes and nod, biting your bottom lip. "I even took your maidenhood and you never resented me for it."

"Never," you agree, nodding again before shuddering. "Toji, just like that! Please..." Toji obeys, silencing himself as he pumps into you even faster, almost reaching his climax with you, hips stuttering and jerking as your walls clench around him rhythmically. Toji groans loudly, his body heaving as he comes down from the short high and then rolls onto his back after pulling out of you.

"Come," he whispers hoarsely, tugging you close to his side and drawing the sheets around your bodies. He nestles his face into your hair and murmurs, "You are the only concubine I feel close to. Only because you love and cherish Princess Tsumiki, and you tend to my needs when you see me."

"It is my duty, is it not?"

"You could be resentful like the others."

"And they let you touch them?" Toji grunts once.

"I touch them, then I leave. It is unbearable at times, but... it's my duty to produce a male heir at some point." You look over your shoulder at him and smile.

"And you will have it."

"I'm hoping I will have it by you so that I can get rid of these other women." The implications of his words are so startling that you flinch in shock. "No?" Toji wonders, frowning as he touches your cheek.

"N-not no, but... Me? From concubine to consort? No other concubine will give you a son?"

"No other concubine can give me a son. That was why I picked them in the first place," he sighs, pulling you even closer. "But now... I am ready for another child. A son to take on the Imperial reign. Through you." He splays a hand across your belly, rubbing it tenderly before yawning loudly.

"Sleep well, your Ho- I mean, Toji." But he's already asleep, nose tucked into the crook of your neck and arms around your frame. Just like you like it.

Concubine to consort? You think to yourself in the moonlight. With an Imperial son?

A smile creeps its way across your face at the thought of being pregnant with Toji's child. Toji's son. To be the vessel of such a treasure... it would make your worth in his eyes that much more.

You fall asleep with that thought, and add "pray for a son" to your list of petitions to the gods.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGGING: @missbonekitty @wack0-genius @thankuary @r-i-m-f-009 @leanne-tamashi @rein-icu @brownskinnedgirll @savantsoulfinder @chilledlucifer @kontentious @flare-on @meena-in-a-nutshell @falling-through-pages @naoyasdarling @vabybizzle @fiona782 @debevv @suguruswaifu

[lubdubsworld]

Better Man.

              ~~~~We might still be in love, if you were a better man. ~~~~

Taehyung x OC 

Rating 18 +

Angst. 

Implied Infidelity in the past. 

Chapter 1 ~ Walk out the first time. 

"Are you okay?" My mother's soft voice came from behind me and i panicked, hurriedly swiping at the tears that were streaking down my face. Heart pounding, I grabbed a bunch of tissues from the dresser, patting my face down hurriedly , making sure to keep my back to her. 

"I'm fine, Mom." I said , voice surprisingly steady as I turned around to smile weakly at her. She stood near the doorway, a petite woman of fifty with greying hair and too many wrinkles. 

I thought she looked older than she was and i knew I had a part to play in that. Sighing, I tried not to cry more, moving to gently take my son out of her arms. 

He was four years old, fast asleep and smiling sweetly in his slumber. He had downy black hair, feather soft and warm brown eyes. He looked incredibly like his father, the resemblance stunning even though he was so young. I stared at him some more, laying him down on the bed and brushing the hair off his face. 

"Are you sure there is no mistake? Taehyung ssi wouldn't hurt us like this..." My mother said, sounding broken and I felt a pang of sympathy. But also annoyance. 

Us. 

Us....like she had an equal share in the hurt I was feeling.

 I was the one getting a  divorce but my mother made it sound like it was personal to her as well. Like somehow, the fact that she now had to meet her friends and tell them that her daughter was divorced could compare to the pain I was feeling. To the sheer anguish that was filling me.

To be fair though, my mother had loved Taehyung very much. Her favorite son-in-law . My sister's husband had been a mean drunkard who had brought a lot of misery to our family. Taehyung by contrast had been a loving, filial son in law. He had cared deeply for my parents, paid for my father's funeral ( even though the man itself was nothing more than a drunk , cheating fool who had abandoned us )  and he had been the most kind man . 

I swallowed. 

Maybe , you should have forgiven him. Maybe , you shouldn't have divorced him . So, he slept with another woman. Fine.  It was one night... just one night. you should have gotten over it! Was it worth it to spend all these countless nights alone? To break your mother's heart a thousand times over? 

 The funny thing was, i had forgiven him. Maybe right after I had found out. He had stood there, looking shell-shocked and horrified and his eyes had begged me for forgiveness and my heart had cracked , the way it always did whenever I saw him in distress. And when he had looked me in the eye and said, "  I’m sorry,  Jang mi..." I had forgiven him right then and there.

 But it was the forgetting that was hard. The fear that it would happen again. The fear that somehow, I was the reason he strayed. And that kind of fear can be debilitating. For the first three weeks, I'd tried to pretend it hadn't happened. I had tried hard to see him the way I had always seen him but it had been impossible. everytime I saw him, my heart had broken anew. It had been hard but I had to accept that things would never be the same. That I would forever look at him and remember what he’d done. That I would forever wonder if he would do it again. 

So we had done the wise thing. 

At first a break.

 A few days apart to get our head on straight.  Then I’d found a job and I had to move closer to the office to make the commute easy. And then suddenly, I wasn’t seeing him even during the weekends , to spend time as family for our son’s sake. And just like that , a whole year had passed and we  were separated. Only meeting to hand Hoshi over to each other. 

"I'm sorry mother." I said softly. I knew that she blamed me, a whole lot for the separation. 

People with children  didn't leave each other over infidelity in my country. You hit your husband, denied him from your bed maybe but you didn't break up a family over one night of bad decisions. You just didn't .

But for me, it was beyond the act. It was the broken trust, the shock of knowing that some other woman had given him something I couldn't, the fact that he had even wanted it from another woman had been enough for me to crumble on the inside.  

But, none of it mattered now. 

He wanted a divorce. Officially. Wanted to end it for real. 

It was jarring, how badly it shook me. I felt unaccountably lost and confused and disoriented. I couldn't imagine not being Taehyung’s wife , i realized with a stunning sense of self realization.

 Call me irrational, but apparently, I couldn't stop thinking of him as my husband , even after two years. Soon he wouldn't be my husband. 

He would be  my ex -husband. 

i hated that word. 

It had such a plethora of negative connotations to it. When you hear it , you just brace yourself for unpleasantness.

 Because it is unpleasant. A marriage ending, a family breaking, feelings hurt , hearts shattered,  angry words tossed...its all a very unpleasant experience for everyone involved. 

An ex husband was seldom a harbinger of happiness, more often a reminder of choices gone wrong, regrets and wasted time. and I didn’t want to associate Taehyung with a word like that.

Taehyung who was still the kindest, warmest human being I knew. The best father in the world. 

I felt like someone had sucked all the strength out of me.

I didn’t really want to think about the call I’d gotten from Taehyung last night. An appointment with a divorce lawyer.  It had been followed by an apology because apparently, someone in the law firm had let the info leak. And now it was all over the sleazy tabloids that fed on people’s misery. 

It was impossible to escape it too, Taehyung was famous. An idol. And actor. The country's sweetheart. And he was the epitome of perfection. The beautiful, talented actor with an impeccable record of well behavior. 

I knew that literally everyone on the planet thought he was a literal angel. 

 I remembered how much , by contrast, I had been hated when I'd married him.

I could just imagine how much more it would all be this time around. And i wondered if it bothered Taehyung too. Did he perhaps wish he’d never met me

? 

It had been sheer luck that we had met.... 

In fact, if Jimin's  car hadn't broken down right outside our home on that cold December night, I wouldn't have even met Taehyung. A great cosmic shift, somewhere some butterfly flapped its wing a certain way and suddenly, Jimin’s car ran over a thumbtack and his phone was dead so while he tried to fix the damage , Taehyung  just had to knock on our home and I had been the one to open it. 

Boom. That was it. Love at first sight. 

 I had been a high school kid and he had been barely nineteen. Fresh faced and cheerful , the struggling idol from a small company. He hadn't been surrounded by fans or chased by saesangs. He hadn't had security tailing him. No daesangs, BBMAs, or acting awards. No blockbuster movies to his credit , no chart-bursting songs either . 

And I had fallen in love with that version of him. 

The hardworking, talented young man who worked twice as hard as anyone around him. 

 That's right. You've loved him for fifteen years.  So it's understandable that you're upset. Now, maybe you can move on too. Go on a few of those blind dates that Jiyoung is always setting you up on. Go live your life instead of being a zombie. Get a hair cut. Dye your hair red. Do something to get your life in order. 

"I still find it hard to believe that he would want a divorce. Jangmi yah... did you tell him you forgave him? Tell him you wanted to try again..." My mother said again and the distress in her voice was equal parts heartbreaking and exasperating. 

"Mother, I don't want to try again . We aren't married anymore. It's over, whatever it was between us. " 

 Whatever it was. 

How cruel, to have all that love, all that affection  reduced to a phrase like that. 

What a pity. 

"But what about Hoshi? He needs his father..." My mother cried out and I willed myself not to snap. She means well, I thought miserably. 

"He has a father. Taehyung is an excellent father and you know that. Don’t start that again.” 

My mother sighed.

"I still feel that this wouldn’t happen if you tried a little bit. He’s a good boy. Such a good boy and you could never do anyone better. Why are you so full of pride, Jangmi... so prideful...you should be a little humble. Think of the kind of man he is...where would you find a man like that ? And moreover .... Taehyung loves you. i know he does." My mother said stubbornly. 

I sighed, feeling my fingers shake from the effort not to scream. I wasn’t strong enough to have this conversation with her. Not now. Possibly never. Taehyung did  love me. Had never made any effort to hide it. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t. 

And I wanted to yell at my mother she was at least partially to blame for me walking out on Taehyung. 

My father had left us for another woman , when I was twelve. I had seen the toll it had taken on my mother and I just knew that I would never let a man do that to me. My mother had later confided in me that it wasn’t the first time. He had done it before. A lot of times. And my mother had always forgiven him. Let him back into our lives. 

And one night, drunk on soju she had confided between hiccups, ‘ I wish I’d walked out the first time.” 

And that had stuck with me. 

Walk out the first time. 

If he cheats on you , walk out the first time. Don’t stick around waiting for him to do it to you again. Walk out the first time. 

 And so I had. 

“ Should I talk to him? Tell him you’ve changed your mind? “ My mother began and I felt my patience snap.

“No!! Could you just, for the love of God, stay out of this, ma? It’s over. Our marriage is over and it has been over for a long time. A piece of paper doesn’t really change that, does it? Its not my fault you can’t get over it but that’s a you problem. And you need to fix it yourself.  “ I shouted. 

My mother immediately recoiled, eyes shuttering down. 

“Of course. You know the best. Who cares how anyone else feels, right, Jang Mi? You always know best.” She said softly, and I exhaled, shaken. There it was. The guilt trip. It was never ending. 

Please... I just need to go now.” I moved to grab my bag, :” I need to go get ready for the meeting with the lawyers tomorrow. You can keep Hoshi with you tonight.  I’ll come pick him up after I’m done and then I’ll drop him off at his father’s place.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With Taehyung and I, our break up hadn’t been terrible. 

It hadn’t been terrible because our own penchant for being terrible had always been very minimal. We didn’t do swearing or fights or threats and it always annoyed our friends that we got along so well. That it was so easy for us to forgive and move on with each other . That we were the one couple who didn’t hold grudges or bring up past mistakes. 

Which is why, when we did break up, none of our friends had tried to change our minds over it. They had accepted it rather calmly, shocked at first because it was so out of the blue but not opposed to the idea itself . They just trusted us to know the right thing to do because we were easily the most mature , the most level headed couple in the entire group. We were usually the sounding boards , the voice of reason in whatever petty conflict our friends were involved in . 

So when it was us, needling a little advice, a little guidance, our friends had been woefully ill equipped to help. They had merely hummed and nodded and empathized. Maybe that was another reason I’d left. I hadn’t considered the alternative. No one had asked me to consider the alternative. 

Our friends had watched us drift apart watched us break up, but they hadn’t really asked us  why.  

Because if something had caused Kim Taehyung and Jang Mi to break up, man, that must’ve been a really huge issue. 

So the break up had been amicable. Gradual and slow but mostly amicable, eased by our mutual love for our son. We wanted him happy and he was happy when we were happy. So we put on a front, laughed and joked in front of him and let him have some semblance of normalcy in his life. 

It wasn’t easy. 

From him,  it had been nothing but a mess of   heated glances, touches laced with intent and eyes begging forgiveness . every gaze of his was a silent scream for a second chance that I was not at all ready to give. 

Because for me, the raw hurt and anger and frustration that bubbled up every time I saw him , it had nowhere to go. It stayed churning in my gut, made everything bitter and unpalatable and I wanted to hurt him for hurting me. How could I think of a second chance when the hurt from the first, was still so fresh, an open wound festering. 

Self esteem in tatters, I had hated him fiercely. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The meeting was at his company, and I arrived at nine in the morning, with a few more minutes to spare.  I knew the place like the back of my hand, was here at least  once a week either to pick or drop Hoshi off and I knew that the conference room in the third floor was sound proof and cut off from the rest of the building for extra privacy. 

Which was a little too late because I’d found two tabloid newspapers waiting outside my apartment this morning. 

I opened the door carefully, surprised to see Taehyung sitting in one of the chairs, bent over a sheaf of paper on the table and next to him a leggy girl in a small skirt hovered, fingers resting lightly on his shoulder, bent at the optimum angle to show him her curves. 

I sighed, looking away.

It was way too early for this. 

“Mia!” Taehyung’s voice made me look up, and I watched as he stood up, pushing the chair away and moving to me . He was easily the most good looking man in the country. And he looked so good at thirty five that it was impossible to look away from him. 

He was dressed in a pale blue shirt and black slacks and it never amazed me, how good clothes fit him. 

I took in the broad shoulders, thick arms and the lean waist, the carefully styled hair and the breathtakingly beautiful face and sighed when he kept coming closer, hands held out. . 

Of course, the customary hug. 

i let him wrap his arms around me, my face buried in the comforting warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne filling my brain . He always smelled so good it made my heart hurt. I tried not to let myself get carried away. Tried to remind myself that this wasn’t anything more than a.....

A facade ? Or was it? Was his affection genuine? 

Was I just too cynical?

I shook my head, pulling away and smiling a little at the genuine venom in the leggy girl’s face. 

“Are you okay? Where’s Hoshi?” Taehyung brushed the hair off my face, eyes warm and I wondered if he’d forgotten we were here to get a divorce.

 Whenever we met, Taehyung acted like we were still together. 

No, that wasn’t it. 

He just didn’t act like we had broken up. He was affectionate and open and cooperative. It always left me in a sort of limbo, unable to navigate our relationship with clear boundaries. There were no line to stop myself from crossing, because he just didn’t draw them. 

“ Ms. Lee says we just have to go over the details like the alimony and the custody and the division of assets and then we can just proceed. Get it all finalized.  “ He said casually, when I moved away and sat on the chair opposite him. 

“Okay .” I said casually. 

He smiled and turned back to the girl next to him.

“I’ll join you after the meeting Lisa.” he gave her a nice wide smile and the girl practically bloomed under the attention before bowing curtly in my direction. I watched her walk away, slightly amused.

“Bit younger than your usual type.” I commented , glancing at him. He gave me a look.

“I’m not dating her.” He shrugged. 

“Does she know that?” I retorted.

 It was dumb. Uncalled for. I was being a bitch, really but the urge to evoke some kind of reaction from Taehyung was something I’d never really out grown. I liked getting under his skin.

Taehyung sighed and gave me a little smirk.

“Are you jealous, Mia mine?” He teased. 

It felt a little like someone had dug a nine inch dagger straight  into my heart. 

That stupid nickname. 

God I couldn’t bear it. 

Swallowing i looked away. 

“Sorry. “ he said quietly, a few seconds later. 

I nodded curtly. 

“Don’t do it again.” I said hoarsely. 

“Why not?” He whispered gently. 

I groaned. 

“Taehyung... “

“it’s just a name...why does it bother you so much?” He whispered. 

“The same reason you’re asking me for a divorce.” I said softly.

He blinked.

“Mia...”

“Because we both know its time to stop.” I said quietly. “ Stop dancing around each other , stop doing...whatever it is we’ve been doing these past two years and give our relationship a name. “ 

“I’m not very fond of labels.” He shrugged. I glared at him. 

“Well tough luck. Labels are good. Labels are great. They let you draw boundaries. “ I retorted. 

“You sound like you’ve had enough of me.”

“Well, haven’t you had enough of me?” I snapped.

“Not even close.” He leaned forward gently, eyes pinning me to the table with a gaze so strong he may as well have used his body. And it didn’t help that two years wasn’t enough time to forget how it would feel if he  had  used his body. How it would feel to be stretched out on that table, him on top of me, hands working my clothes open, lips kissing their way down my jaw. 

I could almost taste him, taste the minty freshness of his breath, feel his tongue in my mouth, the hardness of him inside me. My thighs clenched because I hadn’t gotten laid in two fucking years and even if i did, no one would ever compare to the man in front of me. 

“Mr. Kim? Mrs. Kim? “ 

The lawyer’s voice broke the spell and i straightened, swallowing. Ms. Lee had walked in , and I watched her close the conference door behind her before locking it gently. 

She was young, dressed in a business suit , a no nonsense bun and had small round framed glasses. She gave me a nice smile, shook hands with us both and placed her briefcase on the table before glancing between us. 

“Shall we begin?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : its gonna be a bumpy ride. 

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story pt 23 - Sci Fi

Here is the next part! There is at least one more part in this world. Getting really close to the end!

Masterpost Linked Here

Enjoy!

_______________________

Life moved on, and despite the growing anxiety I had after my encounter with Chris, things moved smoothly. Chris had disappeared after that night, leaving his resignation from the academy laying on his desk. Liam was busy with wedding plans, occasionally checking in to make sure I was happy with his choices.

He was honestly much more thoughtful about it than I would have been, and I was happy to have his help. My father arranged his leave and was on his way. We also heard from Liam’s parents that they were going to arrive soon as well.

When Liam received the news, he became perfectly still for a few moments. I watched him, concerned at the obvious change.

“Liam, are you okay?”

“I – I don’t know.” His eyes were unfocused, as if staring off into space. “Why… are they coming?”

“Because they’re your parents? I doubt they would miss the wedding of a royal family member, no matter how bad your relationship is.”

“Parents… it’s… all wrong.” Liam seemed to be struggling against some invisible bind. His dark blue eyes flickered, and seemed to almost glow in the shadow of the resting area we sat it.

WARNING. World destabilization detected. Attempting forced conformity… Failure… host and partner soul strength too high.

Unable to see the bright blue words hanging in the air, Liam continued speaking.

“This… isn’t right. I don’t have family." His face was becoming more certain. “It’s not my fate. All I have is…” He glanced at me, his eyes filled with pain. “Bel..?”

WARNING! Stabilize world story immediately or face destruction and mission failure.

I reached out quickly, holding Liam’s hands in my own. “Liam, take a deep breath. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation.

“I know it seems wrong, but for now I need you to go with the idea of having parents and family.”

“But…?”

“Trust me. “

“Okay.” He leaned back, sighing. The glowing dark blue of his eyes faded, and he closed them for a brief moment, before seemingly returning back to normal. “I trust you.”

We don’t belong here.

The uncertainty in this world grew each day. Liam, whoever Chris had become… me… we weren’t from this world. But if we deviated to much, the world could destabilize, and I could fail the mission.

I just needed to keep my head down, blend in and complete the mission.

Try not to rebel too much against the role I’d been given in this world, except the ending.

Simple, right?

_______________________

…

“We’ve talked the last few hours about our lists, now it’s your turn! What do you miss most about Chris, Alaira?”

Maybe world destabilization, mission failure and soul destruction aren’t that bad after all.

I stared at the group of young women in front me, wondering for the hundredth time in the past hour how I had been roped into this... harem support group?

Allie, Ilene and Wen stared back at me, waiting for me to answer.

“I… miss kicking his butt in mock Mech battles?” I winced as I spoke, realizing they would probably take offense at that, but to my surprise they all smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, you were a very important rival to Chris.” Ilene patted me on the back.

Allie spoke up, “He was always talking about how he wanted to beat you and have you accept him as a fellow Guardian. “

“Yeah… he… I…” Wen started to chime in, but then her face crumpled as she sobbed into her hands. “What are we supposed to do now that he’s gone?! What am I supposed to do without him?! What if he never comes back?!”

“I miss him!”

“Me too!”

Soon all three girls were crying, leaving me in uncomfortable silence in the corner.

Blend in, don’t make waves, don’t try to change things….

“I can’t live without him!” Ilene’s dramatic cry broke something within me.

SCREW THIS!

“OKAY GUYS, SHUT UP!” I stood up, placing my hands on my hips as I stared at them. “You are a group of highly intelligent, talented women in the most competitive military academy in the known universe! And you’re nothing without some guy?”

“He’s not just some….” Wen started to interrupt, but was shushed by me.

“No. No matter how much you care for him. He is a guy, and you are all your own person. You have talents, dreams and stories beyond his existence.” I turned to petite girl beside me first. “You! Wen, you’re one of the top engineering students in the program! With your skills, it would be a cinch to improve upon the current Mech design!” After all, she had ramped up Chris’s Mech in the story, surely she could do the same without him!

“And you!” I pointed at Allie. “You’re a Guardian! You're a level B one at that! That's an even higher level than Chris!”

“But I don’t have his drive…”

“You can have his drive! You can have more than his drive! He spent half his time complaining about how people didn’t take him seriously or how people were trying to force him to be a Connector. You can be TEN TIMES the Guardian Chris was!”

I ignored her startled sputterings and turned towards the dark haired girl on the other side. “And you… Ilene.”

She stared at me warily. “What about me?”

“You’re a freaking Princess! And a super talented Connector! How can that become nothing if Chris isn’t around?”

“…I thought you didn’t like me?”

“I don’t.” I answered bluntly. “You treat your brother like trash, and that’s enough for me to want to kick your teeth in.” I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “That being said, just because I hate you doesn’t mean I don’t respect you as a talented Connector. You just have a crappy personality.”

“Um… Thanks?”

“Don’t mention it.” I opened my arms. “You three have top-notch talent all gathered here in one room. What do you need Chris for?! You could be a force to be reckoned with!”

Wen jumped to her feet. “You’re right! I should design a Mech, one stronger than anyone’s ever seen.!”

“Yes!” I pumped a hand in the air.

“And I’ll fly it! I’ll terrorize the Hive until they go running back to their home planet!” Allie stood up as well.

“You’ve got it!”

Ilene joined in. “If I remember, Allie, you and I have a decent resonance match. How about we partner up?”

“Let’s do it!”

The girls high-fived each other while I watched approvingly.

“Let’s destroy the hIve!

“We’ll save humanity!”

‘...And then we’ll find Chris!”

I groaned.

They were so close… but I guess this is better than nothing.

The girls plotted the formation of a new team, surprisingly accepting the team name “Harem” (my suggestion). As they filed out, chattering excitedly, I prepared to escape this mentally exhausting group.

“Alaira, wait.” Princess Ilene stopped me before I could walk out the door.

“What is it?” I kept a neutral expression. I hadn’t been joking when I said I didn’t like her.

She hesitated. “Are you really marrying my brother?”

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”

“…No… it’s just…” She rubbed her face. “He’s… different. And I feel like you should know. “

Sitting back down, I crossed my legs and prepared to listen.

“Since he met you… William is a different person. He’s kinder… gentler… even goes by a different name. He’s never gone by Liam.”

That caught my attention “What was he like before?”

“Angry. Vicious. Hurt people just to watch them suffer.” Her face was blank, as if remembering things she didn’t want to. “He was so mad at the world for not allowing him to match, he spent all his time plotting to take down talented people who could.”

A villain. Was that who he was before Liam stepped in? Like how Alaira was before I took over? Or Chris before… whoever it was… took his body?

“I’m not pretending that I’m perfect, either. You’re right, I treated my brother like garbage, instead of trying to help him. I thought he was a monster. Honestly, I thought his hanging around you was some new scheme…. I was kind of hoping he would take you out so your couldn’t bother Chris…”

“So nice of you.” My tone was sarcastic

“At least I’m honest. Anyways, this doesn’t appear to be some trick… I think he’s changed… he actually seems to care about you. But I thought you should know who he was before he met you.”

“Thanks.” My tone was slightly better than before. “Don’t worry, I know exactly who I’m marrying.”

Liam. Not your villain brother.

“Good Luck.” Ilene seemed relieved, as if a burden was off of her shoulders with the confession, and hurried out.

I stood in the room alone silently for a few moments, processing.

There’s too many questions, and no answers in sight.

I left to find Liam. I missed him.

_______________________

I arrived just in time to see Liam and Alaira’s father facing off.

“She is my precious daughter.” The tall middle aged man with close cropped hair and a scowl made scarier by the scar running from his left eye to the corner of his mouth, towered over Liam. His disapproving air was evident.

“Yes.” Liam smiled and nodded, seemingly fearless.

“No man deserves to marry her.”

“Agreed.”

“So who do you think you are?” General Gladus poked Liam’s chest with a finger.

“The luckiest man alive to be able to stand in the same room as Alaira, much less stay by her side all my life.” He held out a plate in front of the angry man. “Cookies?”

“Well, you should know I don’t approve of this fast courtship…” He picked up one of the cookies and bit into it angrily. “You both are so young…” He took another bite. “And I don’t want you to hold her back…”

“I completely agree. I will do my best to support all her goals in life.” Liam handed the general another cookie as he finished the first.

“Good…” He chewed slower. “Is this chocolate? How did you get it so soft but chewy at the same time?”

“I developed the recipe. Would you like more?”

He picked up another one. “Just know this doesn’t mean I fully approve of you.”

“Of course not… Would you like some cake…”

“….”

“I also have homemade hot chocolate.”

“… As long as she likes you, I guess.” He finally muttered, his hands full of baked treats and dessert drinks.

Liam overwhelmed him with support spouse abilities. I laughed in the doorway, attracting the attention of both men.

“Anything for me?”

Liam nodded with a bright smile. “I saved you a plate.”

General Gladus cleared his throat as he saw the large platter filled with cookies.

“Don’t worry, Sir, I saved an extra plate for you.”

“… Don’t think you can bribe me.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So I can have your plate, then?”

“The hardened general clutched the plate of cookies to his chest. “Don’t you dare! The boy made them for me out of respect for his future father-in-law!”

“…” Liam and I smiled at each other.

“How is the front line… Dad?” The title felt a little rough as I spoke it. I was still acutely aware that he was Alaira’s father, not mine.

“Stable, for now.” He frowned. “Fortunately we have an elaborate defense system, to give plenty of warning. But they’ve been retreating more and more lately. The higher ups seem to think that they might be admitting defeat, but I just don’t think so. I think they’re preparing for something… big.”

He’s right.

I knew the ending of the original story. Around the time Alaira was supposed to graduate, they had attacked in the largest numbers ever seen, necessitating all senior students being recruited to help fight. Even Alaira, who was without a Connector and would have normally been left behind was brought in. They couldn’t afford to leave any powerful guardian out.

I still have a little more time, though. I can train with Liam, maybe get Wen to help upgrade our Mechs, train up some of the students… We can have a chance to really face off against the attack.

There’s still time…

“Don’t let down your guard. You’re the best general we’ve got.” I patted Alaira’s father on the shoulder.

He crushed me in a big hug. “Don’t worry, your dad will protect the galaxy! You just get married in peace.” He leaned in and whispered. “See if he can make a few more of those chocolate cookies, okay?”

“I will, Dad.” It came much more naturally this time.

I’ll protect you too. I added silently.

_______________________

As the wedding drew closer, we were notified that the king and queen were on their way. Liam ignored the news, continuing to work on seating charts and music for the ceremony.

“We have to welcome them when they arrive. They are due any minute.” I finally spoke up, slightly exasperated with his head-in-the-sand act.

“…If we have to.” His voice was cold, his dark blue eyes flickering between fear and annoyance.

I held his hand. “Don’t worry. No matter who they think you are, or what they say about you, just know that you’re my future husband. Don’t worry about anything else.”

He reached out, pulling me tightly against him. “ Thank you.”

“Just play along with them. I held his face between my hands. “You’re Liam. Not Prince William. Not their son. Not Ilene’s brother. Liam.”

WARNING. DIRECTLY CONTRADICTING STORYLINES IS FORBIDDEN.

Liam tilted his head and studied me with a worried expression. “… Are you okay?”

“Just follow my lead. Please.” I looked away from the bright blue words in annoyance and moved.

We went to meet the Royal Family, each of us nervous for different reasons.

The King and Queen looked slightly like Liam and Ilene. The king had curly dark hair, severe features, made worse by the frown as he studied Liam. The Queen had the dark blue eyes that both siblings had, and a beautiful, delicate face… but the overall sense was ruined by the terrified light in her eyes as she almost hid behind her husband.

“So this is the girl you tricked into marrying you?” The king looked at me with morbid curiosity.

Liam took a deep breath. “This is Alaira, Grade S Guardian, my resonance partner and my future wife…”

“What game are you playing, William?” His father snapped, interrupting him. “If this is some ploy to ruin General Gladus, you should stop now.”

“This isn’t…”

“You should stop this now.” The Queen squeaked out nervously at me from behind the King. “He might be my son, but you can’t trust him…”

“…”

“This wedding is a farce.” The king snapped finally. “He’s a monster.”

_______________________

“Why did you follow me?” the mournful voice called out as I entered the dark room.

“Do you want me to leave?” I looked up at the large dark blue eyes curiously, barely able to make out the large form in the darkness.

“I didn’t want you to see… didn’t want you to know…”

“Know what?”

“That I’m a monster.” The whisper was filled with so much pain it made me cry.

_______________________

BAM!

Before I fully came out of the memory, I had punched the King.

“…”

There was a moment of stunned silence from everyone present.

“You dare…!” The King finally spoke up, rubbing his red cheek with a furious expression. “I can have you executed!”

“Just try, Barry.” General Gladus walked in, his hand holding a drawn weapon. “I’ll shoot you in your precious Royal Ass, and then what are you going to lounge on while I fight your wars for you?”

"..."

"..."

"..."

The room processed his words in silence for a moment, before the king burst out angrily.

“Gladus, are you threatening me?!!”

“Oh shut up Barry. " He waved dismissively with his gun. "It wouldn’t even be the first time I’ve shot you. Probably won't be the last." You won’t arrest me, you need me to protect your country.”

“You are willing to let your precious daughter marry this… this… “ The king trailed off, glaring at Liam, who stared calmly back.

“Yes.” General Gladus shrugged “I heard the rumors. Even with the 100% match I wasn’t about to let him hurt my daughter.”

“Then why…?”

“I’ve sat down with your son, Barry. I shook his hand, looked him in the eye. I asked him the hard questions. I’ve observed him around Alaira.” The General stepped forward, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. “I know a good man when I see one. And I see one. One who loves my daughter. Maybe you should try looking closer.”

“But he…”

“Plus he makes delicious cookies.” He muttered.

“…He what?”

I stepped forward, blocking Liam behind me. “He’s not a monster. He’s my future husband. I honestly do not care about your opinion. But if you want to try to hurt him, just know… you won’t have to wait for my father to shoot you. I’ll do it first.”

“… Control your child, Gladus.”

“She even threatens you just like me!” He reached out and placed an arm around my shoulders. “So proud.”

“…Fine. “ The King frowned “I won’t try to save you from yourself. Marry him, if you want.”

“I plan to.”

“Whatever you’re plotting, William, you better stop now.” He glared. “You might have fooled them, but you won’t fool me.”

“I don’t have to fool you.” Liam’s eyes were dark. “You mean nothing to me.”

“I’m your father.”

“I have no family. I… I can never have family.” Liam turned away.

“William…” The Queen called out softly.

“I AM NOT William.”

WARNING. World Destabilization detected!

“Come on, Liam. Let’s go.” I grabbed his hand and walked away, calling over my shoulder as we left. “You’re free to attend the wedding, but stay away from us otherwise.”

“You’ll regret this!”

I laughed at his bitter words. “Enjoy the disappointment.”

Liam and I left.

_______________________

We sat in my room, and as soon as my hand left his, he curled up, holding his arms over his head.

“I don’t feel right.”

“Liam.” I reached out and touched his back, feeling him trembling beneath me.

“Who am I? I don’t think I’m William. The things they said… the things William has done… He’s not me.”

Warning!

"He's not me... he can't be... He's not..."

WARNING! World destabilization... Bright blue words and a mechanical voice appeared again.

“SHUT UP!” I yelled, drowning out the voice. I pulled his arms down, looking straight into his dark blue eyes. “You are Liam. And you’re my partner. And tomorrow you’ll be my husband. Nothing else matters..”

“But…”

“I can’t explain things right now. I don’t even know everything right now. But I know there’s a reason we’re here together. I’ve found you, and I won’t leave you.”

He held me close, both of us kneeling on the floor. He was clutching me as if I was the only thing anchoring him. I felt lost myself. I was frustrated at my lack of answers, angry at the pain Liam was experiencing, afraid for the future ahead of us.

“Alaira… no… Bel?” He whispered. “... I love you.”

I smiled at the unfamiliar but familiar name, pressing my face against his shoulder. “I love you too, Liam.”

“Marry me tomorrow.”

“Definitely.”

“Don’t leave me behind… please.”

“I won't... No matter what.”

A long silence fell between us. Finally Liam sat back, his face slightly red. “I wish we were getting married tonight. I can’t help but feel something terrible is going to happen to prevent our wedding.”

Foreshadowing.

Ignoring the ominous word that appeared in my subconscious, I smiled reassuringly. “Nothing is going to happen…”

“ALERT! CODE LEVEL RED. PLEASE REPORT TO EMERGENCY STATIONS. ALERT!”

I sighed. “I take that back.”

We headed to the Command Level in the main Academy.

_______________________

“Dad, what’s going on?” I called out as we passed the main doors.

“Alaira…” General Gladus’ face was uncharacteristically serious. “It’s not good.”

I stood beside him, looking up at the large holographic display at the center of the command room, feeling the blood drain from my face. “The Hive.”

“They’re past our defense systems.” He slammed his fist against the table. “This doesn’t make any sense! How did an army this huge get past us without starting any alarms!”

I stared at the countless red dots on the screen, feeling lost.

This isn’t right. In the story I should have had YEARS before the Hive attacked in such large numbers. Even then they were caught immediately in the defense systems and gave the military time to prepare. How could they get past us… unless…

“Chris.”

He said he was going to end everything. Is this what he meant?

Alaira’s father was confused. “That male student who disappeared? How would he have access to defense system information?”

Chris wouldn’t… but whoever was controlling Chris might have more information.

I let it go for now. “What do we do?”

“There’s too many… and they’re headed for a defenseless planet in this system.” He hung his head. “I don’t have the manpower to defend it.”

I stepped forward, giving him a grim smile. “You’re not alone, Dad. I’ll help.”

“We! We’ll help.” Liam stood beside me. “We’re a powerful combo. You can’t afford to turn us down.”

General Gladus sighed. “Even if I recruit top senior students from the academy… the numbers we have… it’s a suicide mission.”

Warning! Mission Failure Imminent!

Your mission: Prevent destruction of the human race by the alien monster race known as The Hive.

The Hive are now attacking in large numbers. Your estimated chance of success against them in battle is 0%.

“If you’re not gonna say anything helpful, then shut up.” I growled quietly.

Liam turned towards me. “Are you okay?”

If you fail your mission, you will face soul destruction.

“It’s not like I’m swimming in options.”

You have one option.

“Who are you talking to?”

“What is it?” I whispered, holding Liam’s hand and squeezing it. I have to save him.

...

ACCEPT YOUR FATE.

...

I stared at the blue words silently for a few minutes. “Liam, what if I said we have an 100% chance of dying if we went on this mission…”

“You don’t know that…”

“...and I had a fool proof way to protect you… But we would be separated forever?”

I didn’t know what my fate was. But I did know in the deepest part of my soul one thing:

Liam was not my fate.

“I don’t plan to survive this, Liam… but if I could save you…”

“I would rather die by your side.” He didn’t hesitate.

“But…”

He grabbed my other hand, holding them both tightly. “We’ll face this together.”

_______________________

“It’s hopeless.” I whispered, holding him tightly. “What if fate is stronger than us?”

“I don’t need hope, Bel.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against my neck. “If fate is going to separate us, then we’ll destroy it.”

“Together.”

“Always.”

_______________________

I looked at the hologram, at the countless numbers of enemies that awaited us, and leaned against him with a sigh.

“Together.”

He smiled in return.

“Always.”

[spacedikut]

lockdown lovers ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary: lockdown!au. spencer goes from expecting his days to be filled with books, books and more books to books, an asshole cat, and a cute anonymous neighbour. 4857 words

a/n: i was so excited about this and stayed up writing it so i hope you like it too :)

masterlist

It’s three days into lockdown when Spencer notices the cat.

It’s a Maine Coon, he recognises instantly, but there’s this distinctive… dead look in it’s eyes. The body is huge – so fluffy it looks like the cat has a mane, ears invariably up straight and large enough that the eyes look beady in comparison. A mixture of white and grey throughout, the cat spends its days lounging across the windowsill of the apartment in the building next to Spencer’s.

He’s fascinated. How can a cat be so big, so ugly, yet so lovely?

He has to know more.

If he was anyone else, he’d argue the obsession is the fruit of going stir-crazy in his apartment. A lack of seeing his friends combined with having to work cases from home would be the perfect justification for Spencer to move his work station to the window facing the cat.

But this is Spencer. He’s happy being stuck home. He just likes the look of the cat.

He spends a good twenty minutes rifling through his stationary to find a piece of paper and the appropriate pen to jot a note for the cat owner. He thinks the owner must be stuck home, too, so if he sticks the note to his window and waits a day, he could know the cat’s name within twenty four hours.

They’ve had plenty of staring contests. Spencer should know his rival’s name.

So he does. He takes his time writing out the words “I like your cat. Do they have a name?” clearly on the paper, then spends a good five minutes deciding where on the window to stick the message.

He decides on the upper left corner. You won’t miss it.

The cat blinks sleepily at him as they watch Spencer tape the question up.

There’s an answer within three hours.

Spencer is too excited to be embarrassed at how enthused he was when he noticed the response.

Or when he saw the name.

Hi there! His name is Mr Darcy :) He’s a dick x

Spencer can’t help but profile the writing, the syntax, the grammar.

The first thing he notices is there’s a feminine lilt to the way you write – you’re a woman, most likely. The writing is slightly messy, indicating high intelligence, and the use of a smiley face and a kiss makes him think you’re younger in age. If you live alone, which you must because you live in a one bedroom apartment, he can safely guess you’re around his age.

And Mr Darcy… you’re a bookworm. At least for romance and the classics.

Spencer likes Mr Darcy. He has so many questions, suddenly, like how is Mr Darcy a dick and how old is he and why does he never seem to move from his position by the window and what is your name and who are you and do you happen to read a lot of books? Like Ray Bradbury? Please say yes.

He shocks himself. Maybe this quarantine is getting to him more than he realises. He hasn’t felt this excited since Maeve.

He hasn’t been this intrigued since Maeve. And the circumstances are similar, he realises.

No. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Spence.

He worries himself into a spiral when he begins thinking about how to reply. As if she can hear his whining, Penelope calls him.

They’ve made it a habit to call one another a lot. She recently taught him how to use his webcam and has been encouraging him to write more on his computer, rather than by hand.

“Good afternoon, my favourite Doctor.” She sings. He hears some shuffling in the background and can tell she’s baking.

“I need your help with something.” He cuts straight to the chase.

Her interest is piqued, “Oh? I am all ears.”

“Remember the cat I mentioned?”

“The ugly-but-beautiful majestic beast that, if you believed in reincarnation, would’ve been a high class gentleman in his past life? Yes. I think about him every day.”

“His name’s Mr Darcy.”

She lets out a screech, a mixture of a groan and moan that is filled with pure glee. “Of course he’s called Mr Darcy! Tell me everything. How do you know?”

He’s clearly impressed with himself when he says, “I asked.”

“Whoa.” Penelope freezes in her kitchen. “Are you, Doctor Germaphobe, breaking the lockdown rules?”

Spencer feels insulted. “No! Never! I stuck a note to my window, like in that viral tweet you sent me.”

She chuckles, “Well, I already told you I could’ve told you everything about Mr Darcy and the owner if you wanted me to. I am incredible.”

“I appreciate the gesture, Garcia-“

“But it’s morally wrong. Yeah, yeah, heard it all before. What have you said back?”

“That’s what I need your help with.”

Garcia is only a little surprised he’s asking her and not Derek. But, then, as much as she loves Derek, he’s a bit too.. much for someone like Spencer when it comes to love. Spencer approaches people gently, hesitantly, often giving the impression he doesn’t even want to be there.

Derek can have anyone on their knees within minutes.

Different tactics, that’s all.

“Alright, pretty boy. How long have you been talking? Purely through window messages? What else has been said?”

“Well,” He begins, clearing his throat, making eye contact with Mr Darcy, “We’ve only spoken once. When I asked for Mr Darcy’s name. You know, studies have shown that animals can form lifelong friendships with other animals, even if they’re not from the same species.”

“Spencer.”

“Most research has focused on chimpanzees, baboons, horses, hyenas, elephants, bats, and dolphins - but there’s no reason to think that friendship is exclusive to these species.”

“Spencer!”

“What?”

“You’ve spoken to them once?”

“Her. Spoken to her once. And it wasn’t speaking, it was writing.”

There’s a long sigh down the phone. “First of all, how do you know the owner’s a girl?”

There’s movement in Mr Darcy’s apartment. Spencer stares. “The way she writes.”

“Uhuh,” Spencer can hear her stirring something through the phone, “And what was the last thing said?”

Spencer’s eyes narrow – is that a person? Is that the owner? Is that her? Oh my god.

“Spencer? You still there?” Garcia looks to her laptop, checking the call is still connected.

“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. The last thing she said was his name is Mr Darcy and he’s a dick.”

“Oh,” Garcia smirks, “It’s sexy hearing you say dick.”

In normal circumstances, Spencer would register her comment and give a very distinct huh, but he’s distracted.

He sees Mr Darcy meow. A hand appears, petite, with fingernails painted yellow that have smiley faces on them. She brushes Mr Darcy’s fur back, pulling so the skin around his eyes tugs up high and he looks stupid. He seems to like it, though.

She must like smileys, he thinks.

Mr Darcy stands and stretches. He’s alarmingly long.

It’s silent on Garcia’s end, where she looks confused at the sudden silence. She checks again that the call is still connected.

“Spence?”

“Still here. Sorry. I thought I saw her.”

“Oooo,” She’s all giddy, “What does she look like? Is she pretty?”

“I couldn’t see her properly. I can tell she’s too cool for me already. This was stupid.” He sighs, “Forget I said anything. I’ll take knowing Mr Darcy’s name and move on with my life.”

Spencer moves to hang up, but is interrupted by a loud “No!” being shouted at him by Garcia.

“No, Spencer! No! You write something back to her right now and you form a friendship with someone that isn’t one of your colleagues. I love you with my whole heart, and you know that, but it would be good for you to expand your social circle!” She grins and bites her tongue between her teeth, “Aaaand.. this could be the start of a quarantine romance. God, I miss dating.”

At the mention of romance, Spencer visibly flinches. “I’ll see what I can do. I gotta go, Garcia, thanks for calling.”

“Love you. Please marry her so Mr Darcy can be the ring bearer.”

And she hangs up. He’s left contemplating whether he should respond, and what he should respond, as he watches the empty space where Mr Darcy is absent.

It must be dinner time for him.

+++

I’m curious as to how someone named Mr Darcy can be a dick.

That’s a good response, right?

Right?

It lets you know he gets the reference, he knows who Mr Darcy is named after, and leads you to continue the conversation. It’s perfect.

It’s taken him nearly two hours to come up with it. He feels exhausted.

He sticks it on the window, where Mr Darcy has returned to, and huffs out a breath.

He reminds himself to be calm and cool. This is simply a way to pass the time during quarantine, there’s no need to put too much pressure on himself to think it’s anything more or to put more effort than is necessary (he says, after spending two hours formulating a response).

Calm and cool. Cool and calm. Neither are words Spencer would ever use to describe himself.

Spencer stays up until nearly 1am reading. Just before he sleeps, he walks to the kitchen to get some water, and can’t resist checking to see if you’ve responded.

You have. He ignores the way his heart speeds up.

He used to share the windowsill with my other cat and a bunch of plants. Now he bites anything that attempts to move near him. He also likes to vomit on my pillow. My single pillow.

Spencer chuckles as he reads it. He remembers when the window was full of plants, and how one day they all just… disappeared. He assumed the person moved out, but now it’s funny to think that you had to move them all because Mr Darcy demanded he own that space.

He doesn’t recall ever seeing another cat.

Well, now he has to respond. He needs to know about the other cat!

He imagines Derek coming to him in an apparition, like some sort of angel, and saying, calm and cool, kid. Calm and cool.

Spencer decides he’ll reply in the morning. Cause he’s calm and cool, and totally doesn’t want to know anything and everything about you and the two cats you live with.

+++

The messages continue for days. Spencer learns a lot, despite his “attempts” to not profile you (“attempts” as in there was really no attempt).

He learns you were given Mr Darcy by a friend, he’s two years old, and your other cat is the recently adopted, affectionately named Stupid Sally. She’s a ginger cat, estimated to be at least four years old, and you refuse to believe there’s anything going on in that tiny head of hers.

Spencer catches a glimpse of Sally a couple of days after he learns her name. She jumps up beside Mr Darcy, bonks her head on the window, then is whacked by Mr Darcy and falls from the windowsill. Sally doesn’t make another attempt.

He still hasn’t seen you, though. The longer he talks to you, the more he wants Garcia to send him everything she can find on you.

But he has restraint. And fear.

He wants to know more, wants to learn more about the anonymous girl in the opposite building. He doesn’t even know your name, and he assumes you don’t know his, and he’s not entirely sure what number apartment you live in.

He considers asking to convert your conversation from post-it notes on windows to hand-written letters, but that reminds Spencer too much of Maeve and he can’t handle that.

Do you know how difficult it is for Spencer Reid, with all his knowledge and facts and ramblings, to limit himself and how much he says?

It’s torture.

The sun is blinding when Spencer pulls his curtain back, eyes navigating to see if there’s a new message waiting.

I haven’t asked, do you have any cats? Any pets? Mr Darcy would be a terrible boyfriend but Sally could use a lover :)

Before he can stop himself, his mind is whirring with the possible implications of your message. Does this mean you want to meet? You want to know about him as much as he wants to know about you? You’re interested?

He needs to call Penelope. He wants to talk to you so badly, learn everything there is to know, but he can’t bring himself to do it. The situation reminds him of Maeve and, although it’s been so long, he’s still mourning. He’s not sure he’s ready.

Turns out he doesn’t need to worry. You’ve got your own plan.

+++

“So,” Your friend sighs, flopping onto the couch, “You got his number? His name? Anything?”

“No,” You pout, “Not even sure he’s a guy.”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

You playfully gasp. “I don’t know what you’re implying, but I am insulted.”

She chuckles. She knows all about your curious neighbour - she’s the one that encouraged you to reply and keep replying. And now she’s the one trying to convince you to form an actual friendship.

“Just put your number on your window.”

“Do you know how dangerous that is?!” You scold, “Anyone could see it!”

“Yeah, but neighbour guy could see it. And text you. And be really cute.”

You can’t help but glance behind you, into your bedroom window, where the infamous window is. Mr Darcy lounges, completely zonked out with the sunshine keeping him warm.

“What’s the worst that can happen? Some random people text you and you, what, block them? That’s it. Easy.”

Life is so easy for extroverts, you think.

You grab your notebook, rip a piece out and jot down your number before you have a change of heart. You’re essentially double messaging through the medium of your window messaging. But who cares?

What have you got to lose?

+++

Spencer stares at your phone number for way too long. Mr Darcy, as if sensing Spencer’s battle, lazily lifts a paw and rests it against the paper, pushing it into the window.

Spencer dials Penelope’s number straight from memory.

“I was beginning to think you’d died, Spencer-“

“Is it a terrible idea to start texting with Mr Darcy’s owner?”

“What?!” She exclaims, “No! No no no no no! That is an incredible idea! Spencer, please tell me you’re texting her!”

Penelope’s excitement gives him a rush of confidence. She’s always so supportive, so encouraging. Penelope is the best.

“I’m staring at her phone number. I just- we know what happened last time..” He trails off, voice meek. He wants to pretend he isn’t constantly thinking about the worst outcome, but he is. He’s scared.

Penelope’s voice is soft down the phone, “Spence. You have nothing to be afraid of, okay? I’m so proud of you for even considering texting her. But if you truly think you’re not ready, maybe you’re not. But remember, this doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to. You can keep the conversation to cats and cats only.”

Spencer smiles even though she can’t see him. She’s right. It doesn’t have to be anything and, honestly, it’s likely it won’t be anything – after all, Spencer isn’t exactly confident when it comes to women.

She might also have a boyfriend. A husband. A wife. He doesn’t know.

He realises he’s started thinking way too deep about someone he doesn’t even know the name of.

“Does that silence mean you’re gonna text her?” Penelope questions, suspense and hope clear in her voice.

“Yeah,” He replies, glancing at Mr Darcy, “I am.”

+++

[To: Mr Darcy and Sally’s Owner]: Hello. I’m Spencer.

[From: Mr Darcy and Sally’s Owner] hello??????? do i know a spencer?

Embarrassment flushes through him. What a weird way to introduce yourself, he chastises himself, Great first impression.

[To: Mr Darcy and Sally’s owner]: Sorry. I’m the one that’s been asking about your cats through the window.

[From: Mr Darcy and Sally’s Owner]: really? prove it

He wants to feel insulted that you’re so suspicious, but is simultaneously impressed that you’re so cautious. It makes sense to worry after posting your number for anyone to see.

[To: Mr Darcy and Sally’s Owner]: Of course. I’ll put a note on my window with my number now.

He does just that, shuffling quickly and frantically like he does when his mind is moving a thousand miles a minute during a case. He slaps the note against the window, unable to resist hovering on the off chance he spots you.

His phone buzzes.

[From: Mr Darcy and Sally’s Owner]: oh hi spencer! im Y/N, owner of Mr Darcy and sally :)

He can’t help but chuckle at the sudden change of tone. You take stranger danger seriously, it seems.

Why does he find that so endearing?

He’s getting ahead of himself, again. Calm and cool.

They pick up the conversation from where the last note left off, where you asked Spencer if he has any pets of his own. He finds it much easier to talk to you like this, rambling and all, which you don’t seem to mind. Your texting style is distinctively different to his, making his phone vibrate multiple times as you send each sentence of your message separately. He prefers writing chunks full of information, all with perfect grammar and punctuation.

You teach him what ‘wtf’ means and when he sends a meme to Penelope with that caption she loses her damn mind.

She decides she loves you there and then.

A friendship blossoms. It’s odd, he doesn’t know what you look like and you admit to catching a glimpse of him when he showed you his number through the window, but other than that you have no idea what the other looks like.

You know so much about eachother’s lives, though, and so much about eachother. You know which apartment you both live in, he’s got a whole list of reasons why Mr Darcy is a dick and he kind of agrees, you even know that he’s an FBI agent.

Then it happens.

He discovers what you look like.

He wants to play it off as an accident, he really does, but that would be a complete and utter lie.

The area under the window opposite yours has become his new sanctuary. He spends way too much time there, reading and whatnot, and he tries to pretend that it’s so he can watch Mr Darcy all day every day, but there’s always been a part of him that wants you to walk by. Maybe stop right in the centre of the window, pause, let him get a good look.

That’s exactly what happens.

He’s doing some “light” reading before he moves to his bed, where he will continue to read, and he sees the main light in your bedroom switch on. You always have a light on – you’re scared of the dark, just like him, but the main light catches his attention because Mr Darcy looks back and meows.

Someone’s in the room.

For some reason, he can’t tear his eyes away. It’s not the first time he’s noticed someone flutter around the room, never managing to really show themselves. It could the best friend you told Spencer about, the one that you’ve been stuck living with the past month or so.

But it’s not.

A girl appears, wearing an oversized t-shirt and shorts with still-wet hair. She dangles a cat toy before Mr Darcy, which he swipes at twice, then looks away, uninterested.

She rolls her eyes at that, then starts dancing and mouthing along to a song Spencer doesn’t recognise. Now he can’t stop staring – she’s captivating, whoever she is, as she prances around her room, arms flailing around and serenading a very unimpressed Mr Darcy.

This has to be you, he thinks. He doesn’t know why, but this has to be you.

Your passionate singing dies out. It’s the end of the song. Before the next one can begin, you happen to look up and through the window, straight at Spencer.

And you disappear.

You collapse. You definitely scream a little, dramatically falling to the floor and hiding under the window with your back to the wall.

Holy shit. You think. He’s cute and he saw me singing to my asshole cat.

He must think I’m crazy.

Spencer keeps staring at the now empty space of your window, Mr Darcy having been spooked by your exit.

He thinks he might be in love.

+++

Neither of you know what to say to one another after what transpired.

You’re too embarrassed, Spencer feels a little star-struck, and you’re both speechless.

Neither of you expected the other to be so.. attractive.

Your phone is thrown in your lap. “Do it. Do it now.”

In a daze, you blink up at your friend, “I can’t.”

“Don’t make me threaten you.”

You blink.

“I know where he lives. I will obliterate the lockdown rules to go talk to him and drag him here, then you can deal with this face-to-face.”

Your mouth falls open. “Are you insane?”

She unlocks your phone, opens your conversation with Spencer, and places it in your hand.

“Yes.”

+++

[From: Y/N :)]: did you at least enjoy the performance…..

Spencer’s whole body prickles when he sees you’ve texted him.

Maybe Penelope’s manifesting did work.

[To: Y/N :)]: I did. I didn’t expect our face reveals to be so…

I honestly don’t know what to say.

[From: Y/N :)]: s doctor reid speechless? am i that talented?

Spencer lies back on his couch, beaming at his phone like a teenager in a cheesy chick flick.

[To: Y/N :)]: You’re very talented. Mr Darcy clearly disagrees, but don’t listen to him.

And just like that, you’re back in the flow of things.

+++

When July rolls around, you and Spencer have been talking every day since March. Despite the monotonous, repetitive days, Spencer wakes up giddy when he sees you’ve texted him. He usually wakes up earlier than you, you have a habit of playing games or watching television until the early hours of the morning, and he loves to send you a fact to wake up to.

Your favourite are the animal facts. He got Amazon Prime just so he could buy a plethora of animal books and watch animal documentaries. All for you.

At one point, you evolved to phone calls. They don’t happen often and the first one was while you were drunk, but they’re fun for the both of you.

It had been a Saturday, you and your friend were having a movie marathon with wine and of course she brought up Spencer. She choked on her drink when you told her you haven’t heard his voice or seen him since the incident.

“You should call him,” She slurred, “Tonight.”

“He’s working on his jigsaw. I’m not going to interrupt.”

She gave you this incredulous look, asking Really?

“What?! I have respect for him and his jigsaws!”

“Have respect for yourself and how cute he is!”

“That doesn’t make sense!”

She sighed, placing her glass on the coffee table with a clunk, “Picture this: you’re helping him with the jigsaw.”

You couldn’t hide the slight upturn of your lips at the thought. You both love jigsaws, doing one with him would be stupidly romantic to you.

“Yeah.” She nodded ridiculously, “That ain’t gonna happen if you don’t call him!”

In your drunken state, you realised she’s right. You called him that night for a total of ten minutes before you passed out after calling him super handsome.

You both went to sleep feeling warm inside. Spencer called you again the next day, where the call lasted nearly two hours, and it went from there.

But now the lockdown rules are being eased. People are going back to work, meaning establishments like restaurants and hairdressers are opening up with limited capacity, all breathing beings expected to wear a mask.

Neither of you have mentioned actually meeting one another. You’re too nervous. What if he doesn’t like you? What if the image he’s created of you in his head is way better than you are in real life and he’s disappointed? What if he doesn’t want to meet you?

Spencer worries about the exact same things.

So neither of you say anything.

+++

It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes Spencer’s mail gets sent to the wrong address. Perhaps to his neighbour, the person living across the hall, or someone on a completely different floor.

Twice, Spencer’s mail has been delivered to the apartment building next door. The building he now exclusively calls “Y/N’s building”.

Now it’s three times.

Unphased by the mask on his face, Spencer glances around the lobby of your apartment building and wonders what your routine is when you get home. Do you immediately check for packages? Look at the noticeboard? Or do you go straight up to your apartment?

Spencer walks to the reception desk, smiling politely even though the person can’t see it.

“Hi, I’m from the building next door. I think my mail was accidentally sent here?”

He clicks a few buttons, types a few things, then flippantly asks, “Apartment number?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Let me go get it.”

He takes his time leaving his chair and wandering through a door. Spencer glances around. There’s a few people, all wearing masks (Thank God), doing their own thing.

There’s two girls next to him. He eavesdrops, because he’s bored.

“I’m too used to living with you now,” The girl facing him pouts, “I don’t want to go.”

The girl with her back to him laughs, light and sweet, “You live a block away.”

“You know Sally is gonna miss me.”

Sally? As in…

“She’s gonna miss you only because you feed her too much and now she’s fat.”

Wait.

“C’mon, Y/N-“

Spencer blocks out the rest cause holy hell. You’re right there. You’re standing right next to Spencer, in all your glory, and you have no idea that he’s right there, too.

Should he say something? Should he introduce himself? Should he..

“Here, sir. My apologies for the mix-up.” The receptionist re-appears, handing Spencer his mail.

“Thank you.”

And Spencer leaves.

Except he doesn’t.

He stops outside the reception entrance, takes out his phone, and texts you.

[To: Y/N :)] This is weird but I’m right outside your building. I think you’re in the foyer and I’m too scared to approach you.

Two minutes pass before the building doors fly open.

Your head swivels back and forth. When you find Spencer, adorable and awkward Spencer, he can tell you’re grinning from the way your eyes bunch up under your mask. God, he knows you have the most beautiful smile. Everything about you is beautiful.

“Hi,” You breathe.

Spencer mouths a silent hi. You’ve taken his breath away.

“I-um. It’s good to see you in person.” Your voice is soft. It’s soft, and smooth, and so much prettier in real life. It’s already pretty through the phone, but the real version shoots straight to his heart.

He gulps, “Yeah, it’s.. Unexpected, but nice.” The corners of his mouth quirk up and he can’t tear his eyes away from you, “You’re even more gorgeous in real life.”

The compliment rolls off his tongue naturally because it’s true and from the second he spotted you he’s lost all logical thinking.

“I am?” You ask, gentle and hesitant, almost asking are you sure you mean me?

Spencer blushes, somewhat embarrassed by his confession. But he meant it, Spencer’s not the type to say things he doesn’t mean, and you don’t give him time to regret it-

“Would you like to get some coffee? If you’re free now?”

Would it be too much if he screams Yes?

“Yes. I’m free,” He ignores the mail in his hands, stuffing it in his satchel, “But let’s avoid Café Nero, I assume you still haven’t recovered from the nightmare latte you had there.”

You grin, which makes Spencer feel fuzzy, flattered that he remembers anecdotes from your texts.

Of course he remembers. You remember he has an eidetic memory.

You shyly brush your hair behind your ears, both sides, and Spencer spots the bright red of them. You’re flushed, just like him, and it fills him with confidence to know you’re the same mixture of excited and anxious about meeting him in person.

“W-what about your friend?” Spencer gestures vaguely to where he assumes she’d be, “Would she mind?”

“She’s the reason I ran out here, so… I think she’d be mad if we didn’t leave her behind.”

You smile at one another, a few feet apart. Spencer’s bumped into by the opening door of your apartment complex and stumbles, apologising profusely to the unimpressed woman that just stares at him.

Through the entire ordeal you watch Spencer, only him, and can’t stop the radiant, love-filled look on your face.

Maybe Mr Darcy isn’t such a dick when he’s the reason Spencer came into your life.