#please imagine me physically shaking your shoulders as i reach the end of this post <3

[abnerkrill]

🧐👀

(For the fanfic writer asks)

thank you friend <3

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

rarely, but if i do it can get intense!! i am very much an in-depth researcher for original fiction, but fanfiction is my personal fun time, so i'm often happy just to bullshit based on pure vibes :)

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

...so Simon Monroe is an incredibly repressed Christian gay and that just makes me sooooo *clenches fists* blorbo of all time and i simply must write a character study that drifts from his religious upbringing to his accidental matricide (which i realized recently, abner has committed accidental matricide too which makes the simon abner Venn diagram absolutely HILARIOUS) to his zombie cult membership all the way to falling in love. love saved him, zainab!!! love saved him!!!!!!!!!!!

ask me about fanfic!

[blainesebastian]

familiarity

words: 3,585 ship: austin butler x reader  summary: (request) readers friends are obsessed with austin and reader meets austin out and about. austin is intrigued by the reader's lack of interest and is determined to get to know you notes: first request, really excited. thank you! if you do not see your request posted, I promise it’s coming. My writing takes time and I appreciate the patience xo  warning: none  tag list: if you’d like to be added to any of my requested austin x reader fics, please let me know :) 

Tipping your head back towards the sky, you take a deep breath into your lungs as you exit the theater with your two best friends. Seeing Elvis for the third time is beginning to grate on your nerves—don’t get it wrong, the movie is incredible. The acting, the costumes, the music, all of it, ten out of ten, you just don’t need to see a film more than twice in theaters. Your friends are giggling like schoolgirls over the lead, Austin, and well—right, he’s definitely pretty but you don’t understand the hype. You don’t think you’ve really seen him in much before this.

“You two are beginning to sound borderline stalker-ish.” You tease over your shoulder, Marie reaching for your arm and forcing you to walk with them.

“I don’t want to hear it; you’ve watched tons of things over again for your favorite actor. What about Charlie Hunnam?”

You let out a soft breath that flutters your hair, “We don’t talk about Charlie.”

Paige grins, putting a hand through her strawberry-blonde strands, “Well that’s fine because we want to talk about Austin. Can you imagine the physical endurance he had to have to pull off all those movements? Performances?”

Marie grins, “Oh so we’re talking about his stamina?”

You roll your eyes even though you’re smiling as you head back to the car with them. It’s not that you don’t think Austin Butler isn’t attractive, he is, and obviously very gifted and talented. And maybe it goes beyond him being your type or not—sometimes it’s just hard to think about things other than what you’ve been going through recently. That’s what heading to the movies was supposed to be for, an escape, your best friends dragging you out of your apartment despite the fact that you’ve seen this film already.

But they know you need the extra support and you love them for that.

Your past breakup has been rough, moreso than you ever imagined it was capable of being. Just…the person you thought you’d been in love with for seven years turned out to be a completely different man. He was a cheater, a liar, and abusive—not necessarily physically, but definitely emotionally.

You’re working on building a better space for yourself, but it hasn’t been easy. You suppose anything worth it rarely is, but sometimes it’s hard to think about anything else. Shaking those thoughts loose, you get into your car as Marie and Paige continue to talk about their favorite scenes from the movie—describing them in detail as if they’re not going to visit the theater for a fourth time.

You smile a little as you start the engine, pulling out of the parking spot—you guess there’s really nothing better than an escape, especially when it involves a very handsome actor named Austin.

--

It’s a beautiful Fall day, the kind of season that feels like it might be snuggle worthy even in the sunlight. Crisp, crunching leaves, the end of summer passing along it’s final rays of heat. This is your favorite type of weather, right before it gets too cold. You can wear jeans, booties and a t-shirt with a jacket and have zero concerns. Not to mention it’s ideal to sit outside with a cup of coffee…which is your reward for getting grocery shopping done today. You push the cart around the aisles of Whole Foods, crinkling your nose at the selection they’ve got for most items because…it seems a little bare in some spots. Definitely in that time slot of restocking shelves.

No matter, you’ll make do with what you get and then come back another day this week to grab anything you might be missing. Surveying your cart, you’re pretty much done except for your favorite cereal, so you turn the cart in that direction and pause amongst the boxes.

Maple Clusters—literally one of your favorite things. Add a little extra cinnamon and honey? Ugh, with a cup of coffee it’s damn near perfect. And that’s something you never like to say often—that something is perfect, because you’ve learned the hard way that nothing ever is.

You let out a slow breath, moving down the aisle and spotting the box you need on the top shelf. Abandoning your cart, you walk to grab it, arm raised—

And someone else snatches it right before you can. You blink, looking over at the taller guy who has your Maple Clusters in his clutches. He seems to sense you standing there, because he turns slightly and blinks, looking down at the box.

“Sorry, were you goin’ for this?”

For some reason he looks wickedly familiar, like you’ve seen him in this store before or…maybe just around. New York is one of those places where you can run into the same ten people out and about over the course of a month—which sounds like it makes zero sense until you live here.

You hesitate for a moment, taking him in, tall, boyish charm with blue eyes that are only brightened by the curls of his dirty blonde hair and the jean jacket sherpa he’s wearing. Attractive? Yes. Annoying? Also yes.

“I was,” You lick your lips, “It’s the best cereal they have.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face as he turns to face you, still holding onto the box between his hands. “I know,” There’s a sort of drawl to his tone, a deeper octave that maybe you weren’t expecting. It almost seems like it doesn’t quite go with his face, body, something learned. “That’s why I grabbed it.”

You narrow your eyes, attempting to grab anything else that you might be able to barter with. “Okay—there are plenty of decent second options here. Strawberry Oats, got little yogurt pieces in there,” The guy’s face takes on this amused twist, watching as you try to argue which cereal he should buy instead so you can have the one in his hands.

You notice he’s wearing rings on his slender fingers too which is…definitely not a negative, but not the point, either.

“Here and this one? Chocolate.” You wave the box for emphasis, “Who doesn’t love chocolate?”

“I dunno, do you? Seems like if you’re gonna argue for these cereals, you should just go head and buy ‘em.”

Heat kisses your cheeks and splotches down your neck, “No—I’m saying you should get one of them and surrender the Maple box.”

“I was here first.”

“Your arms are longer.”

A soft laugh rumbles out of his chest, a crinkle to the corners of his eyes. Now not only is he amused but there’s something else there, lingering in the blue of his irises. One of his hands runs through his hair before slipping along his jaw, like he’s in thought over this cereal. You are almost petty enough to grab the box and run, but you’ve got a whole cart to check out with and don’t want to end up running into him again.

Part of you knows that this is not worth it, arguing about cereal with a stranger (yet an attractive one) in the middle of Whole Foods. But…the Maple Clusters are definitely just a staple to healthy routines you’re building for yourself and you don’t want to wait later in the week to see if it’s restocked.

“What about a trade?”

You blink—wasn’t that exactly what you were saying? You slowly reach out to grab the Strawberry Oats box to hand off to him and he shakes his head,

“Nah—I meant; I’ll give you the cereal if I can get your name.”

What? Your brain kinda restarts a moment and all those serial killer documentaries and podcasts begin replaying in your head. Why does this dude want to know your name? Then you take in his stature, the way he’s angling his body towards you, head tipped down just slightly as you talk, eyes warm, smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

He’s flirting with you.

“My name? My name for a box of cereal.” You state, like you don’t quite believe it.

“I mean, unless you want to take home Strawberry Oats, I dunno.”

You pause for a few moments, trying to get your bearings. You don’t usually do this, talk to random men in the middle of Whole Foods over cereal. Not to mention being with your ex for those seven years has kinda made you incredibly cautious and aware of conversations you have, always a little unsure, still working on putting yourself out there again and taking chances. Not just with guys but with anything.

But it’s just a name right? And you really want this cereal.

“Fine,” You straighten your shoulders, “It’s Y/N.”

And the transaction is simple, he passes over the cereal, “Y/N,” Definitely doesn’t sound terrible coming from his mouth…clearly this whole interaction has sent you through the ringer. “I’m Austin. Is this a usual thing for you to passionately argue for cereal in Whole Foods or am I just lucky?”

A laugh slips out of your lips and you turn to deposit the box in your cart before the name he’s said finally registers in your brain. You turn to look at him, eyes fluttering over his face and form as he examines the box of Strawberry Oats and—that’s why he looks so familiar. You have seen him before, in Elvis, you just hadn’t put the pieces together because his hair isn’t jet-black anymore. You assume this is his regular style, still coifed in soft curls, but completely different than you’ve seen. In the back of your mind there are some thoughts swirling about how he looks so much more attractive this way, his blue eyes a softer tone than how sharp they were in the film.

Your mouth sort of open and closes like a goldfish, unsure of what to say for a moment, “I just take my cereal very seriously.”

Your friends are going to lose their minds—not that they’d even believe you if you told them. Then again, maybe this is a very detailed dream and you’re gonna wake up on your couch and realize you still need to go grocery shopping.

When Austin glances at you again, there’s this look that passes over his face, an understanding between you both that gaps have been filled in, there’s no air of mystery anymore. He doesn’t look disappointed but still a bit intrigued, putting the Strawberry Oats back to pick up some sort of peanut-butter chocolate combination.

“You didn’t know who I was before.” It’s not said in a way that’s…offended or expectant, but rather there’s something there that’s a bit softer. Like he enjoyed not being recognized. Paige and Marie talk about Austin often, they’ve shared a lot of tidbits and interviews and things like that without you asking.

But it seems like Austin, while made for the spotlight, is a bit shy in it. There’s a balance to him where he’s wading through celebrity life and fits in perfectly, but also flounders sometimes because he’s humble, genuine, sweet. Least that’s what your friends tell you. Though, with this one interaction, might be on brand. With the movie doing as well as it is, it’s flinging Austin and his career more into the public eye; he might not have many interactions like this anymore. Where there’s a blanket of anonymity.

“Well,” You clear your throat, “If it makes you feel any better—I’m still referring to you as ‘guy who likes to steal the last cereal’ in my head.”

That seems to catch him off guard because he laughs, tucking the cereal box underneath his arm. “I was just thinkin’ ‘girl who argues about cereal’ was such a better identifier for you too.”

You grin, your cheeks kissing pink before you shake your head. “That’s my full name, actually.”

Austin laughs and the sound is light and attractive and you feel like your head might start spinning because…this can’t be your life right now. You lick your lips, taking a step back from him and motioning to your cart,

“I gotta get going.” And there’s definitely…some disappointment? there, or maybe it’s just a trick of the artificial lights. Either way, he hesitates, watching you walk back to your cart and begin pushing it past him, “Enjoy that cereal.”

“Can I get your number?” He asks, mostly to your back because you’re almost out of the aisle.

Your heart ricochets right up into your throat and you turn to look at him, confusion pinching between your eyebrows because seriously? This guy wants your number? It’s floundering because, well for starters, a celebrity seemingly wants to get to know you. From running into you in the middle of Whole Foods and arguing about cereal. Secondly, there’s this knee-jerk reaction placed deep inside of you from your ex to keep yourself safe. To not get hurt again or put yourself out there.

It's a simple number exchange today but it never ends up like that.

“No,” You clear your throat, “I’m sorry. But uh—New York is one of those serendipitous places, maybe I’ll run into you again.”

Austin raises his eyebrows, definitely not the reply he was expecting but he respects it, nodding as he offers a small wave before you dip around the corner to the next aisle.

--

You think that’s an interaction that’ll just pass you by, it’ll fade into some part of your consciousness that you’ll maybe remember if it’s randomly recalled to memory. Marie and Paige talk about their latest obsession a lot so, you expect it’s something that’ll pop up, you might mention it in jest to see what their reactions are, but then it’ll disappear—hidden by more important things to think about.

Except it doesn’t.

Austin is on your mind a lot ever since you met him and it’s one of those things where it feels like he’s unavoidable. Shows on Netflix that he’s been in are suddenly available and advertised, you see billboards and subway signs of him in Elvis marketing the film, his interviews are suggested watches on YouTube and your Instagram explore page has fan posts and photoshoots alike.

This whole thing isn’t going to just disappear into the background and you realize you actually want to talk about it with someone, even though the moment has passed and it doesn’t really matter anyways. There are some feelings swirling through your chest that you’re beginning to recognize as regret, even though you don’t want to call it that by name.

Would it have really hurt to give your number to him?

Regardless that it doesn’t change anything, you invite Paige over for coffee. Maybe just venting it out will help you purge it from lingering on your mind. Besides, no offense to Marie, she’s a bit more level-headed when it comes to both of your best friends.

You divulge what happened at Whole Foods and she kinda just laughs a moment before she sees your face, “Wait—are you fucking serious?” You open your mouth to say something put Paige reaches over and gently smacks your arm,

“Hey!”

“I cannot believe you kept this from us,” She laughs, “Also incredibly ironic that you get to run into him when you’re not even a fan.”

Crinkling your nose, you reply, “I didn’t say I wasn’t a fan, I just…didn’t want to see the movie for a fourth time in a row,” You roll your eyes but there’s a soft smile tugging the corners of your mouth, “Definitely didn’t say he wasn’t hot either, he is.”

Paige squeals out a series of laughs as she grabs your arm and honestly that makes you chuckle more than the situation at hand. Leaning back against your kitchen counter, you take a long sip of coffee,

“Anyways,” A soft sigh, “None of this really matters. I fucked up by not giving him my number.”

“I can’t believe he even asked,” She shakes her head, snickering at your expression. “No, I mean—you’re beautiful and clearly got great taste in cereal, I just…it’s hard to wrap my head around.”

“You’re telling me,” You reply, your lips lingering along the rim of your mug before you take another sip.

“Why didn’t you give it to him?” Paige asks, pouring more coffee for herself.

You chew on the inside of your cheek for a few moments—you figured that’d be rather obvious. Paige watches you, pushing her hair over her shoulder. She reaches out and playfully tugs on the lapel of the jean jacket you’re wearing to draw your attention back to this conversation. She knows you though, knows what you’re thinking about.

“Not every guy you meet is going to be like Jason.”

And that…it kind of makes you bristle even though you know she’s right. It’s just such a sensitive topic, an exposed nerve, hurts to think about. “I know.”

Paige hums a little, “It’s also okay if you’re not used to that concept yet, that you’re distant? Cautious?”

You swallow, appreciating someone validating your feelings even though that’s a bit of a struggle too. You don’t like feeling like you’re the center of attention, or like…there’s something wrong with you.

“But for future reference? Definitely doesn’t hurt to give a cute guy your number,” Paige throws her arm around your shoulders, making you smirk, “Especially when that cute guy turns out to be Austin Butler.”

You sigh a bit dramatically but nod—lesson learned, at least.

“Noted.” Smiling, you bump your hip into hers and pour another cup of coffee.

--

Another week passes and you’re back in Whole Foods, not a full grocery run but just grabbing some essentials. Milk, cheese, fruit…definitely some snacks that are not needed but wanted, and of course, cereal. You hold your basket along your arm, pausing at a few spots and putting stuff in before moving to the next aisle. You can already tell upon entering the cereal aisle that things are a bit bare, the shelves looking a little emptier than usual.

Maybe you need to find a new location or change the day of the week you shop, because you pause in front of where you usually find your Maple Clusters and…completely empty. Not even a box left.

Sighing, you set your basket down to begin to browse other selections.

“Don’t you hate it when that happens?” A familiar voice speaks behind you. You turn slowly, your stomach flip flopping as your eyes land on Austin who’s walking into the aisle with his own basket, “Someone grabbin’ the last box of cereal?”

You smile a little, can’t help it, gaze taking him in completely. He’s wearing black jeans today, black cowboy lookin’ ankle booties, a simple white tee and a leather jacket. It somehow makes his features stand out even more than the last time you saw him and you’re definitely taken by how easily handsome he is.

It’s annoying to say the very least.

“Might have to change the Whole Foods I shop at; this cereal outage is just unacceptable.” Smirking a bit, you curl your hair around your ear. You can’t help but feel a bit relieved that you’re seeing him, that you managed to run into him again. Almost like a do-over, in a sense, pushing your wants and desires over insecurities and worries.

It’s not going to hurt to toe the line, to dip your foot back into the pool, to put yourself out there.

He takes a step towards you, pulling the Maple Clusters in question out of his basket, “I don’t actually need this—just wasn’t sure how else to get your attention.”

Chewing on your lower lip, you smile a little, blush working along the back of your neck. “What you just…showed up every day on the off chance I might be here, harboring cereal?”

Austin laughs a little, “No, God—I was gettin’ my own stuff. I just happened to see you turn into the aisle, made a beeline for the cereal.”

And that’s…you have to admit kinda unexpectedly cute. You’re feeling slightly flustered, a fluttery sensation directly under your ribcage, but instead of running away, you lean into it.

“So let me guess—you want a fair trade for that?” You motion to the Maple Clusters.

Austin seems to hesitate just a little, maybe not wanting to walk over a boundary line that you created the last time you ran into one another. You like that about him instantly and decide to open the door a bit more for him to walk through,

“Like maybe…getting coffee?” You offer, “In exchange?”

His eyebrows lift, pleasantly surprised, “Right now?”

“Right now,” You smile, “After we check-out.”

He hands over the cereal box, your fingers brushing as you take it. There’s an electric current just from the touch alone, slipping right up your arm and coiling like a snake in your belly, heated, heartrate doubling.

“Definitely wouldn’t say no to coffee.”

Smiling, you put the cereal box in your basket before picking it up off the floor. There’s an openness to Austin as you wander around Whole Foods, filling up the rest of your lists before making your way out to find a coffee shop. He looks at you with the intention to listen and admittedly you forgot what that feels like. To be heard, to be comfortable in sharing.

And you realize how good it feels to be willing to take chances.

--

thank you for reading! :) 

[lovelybarnes]

stood up- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, anderson x reader (?) warnings: angst, getting stood up, language, unrequited feelings about: prompts (DA29) “i got stood up.” + (DF30) “i think you’re my soulmate.” +(DF41) “are you going to cry? please don’t cry. a/n: i love to hurt but dw it’s a happy ending, i actually like this fjsk, a the time i finished this, i just posted another imagine, so i can’t wait for you guys to read this one in a couple days

every passing second makes you hyperaware of all the sympathetic stares that are currently directed at you. the feeling of pity is enveloping you whole, wrapping you in a thin layer of shame that you think must be related to the careful makeup you caked on your face for this date. your recently manicured nails scratch at the tablecloth, trying to avoid your new expensive dress, deep midnight color clinging to your nervous self. teeth stress your dark wine bottom lip, anxious eyes darting across the restaurant.

with each face that enters the place, none of them being his, the presumption that he isn’t coming solidifies. with it, comes the embarrassment. you can feel the warnings of tears, already threatening to ruin the mascara you had applied so carefully, not bothering to choose the waterproof one because why would you be crying on your date?

you suppose it’s your own fault- how dare you attempt to get over bucky? how dare you trust the words of a shield agent? you pick at your nails, gathering up the courage to stand up and leave. your waitress, however, beats you to it, a faux apologetic look on her face. “oh, so you’ve been here for, like, half an hour and it seems no one is coming, and we kind of need the table, so…”

you hold back an uncomfortable cringe, nodding stiffly as you stand. “right. i’m sorry. i don’t need to… pay for the water, right?” you ask dumbly, ducking your head when she shakes her head condescendingly.

pushing the door open, you step into the brisk air of the night, clouded over with an uneasy disappointment that you’re sure is because of you. you stand for a second to look at the stars, realizing how pretty of a night this would be if you weren’t so damn frustrated. the upset hasn’t passed yet, although the beginnings of anger are peeking up in your stomach.

while you stare up at the moon, the universe decides your getting stood up wasn’t enough, choosing to gift you with cold droplets of water that make your mascara run. it’s unbelievable, you nearly scoff tearily.

you walk to your car then, the moonlight that should have been romantic when you walked out of the restaurant now only making you feel lonely. you don’t let the tears come yet, having enough pride to not let the smitten couples appreciating the romance of the rain see you cry, deciding to put that off until you’re in the quietness of your room.

you drive in the sound of the pattering rain, concentrated on keeping your breathing even so as to push back the tears, not wanting to have an accident on the way back home because your vision was clouded over with sadness.

-

the relief you feel when you arrive at the compound is immeasurable; the knowledge that all you have to do is walk quietly to your room, and you can release the pent up emotions that eat you whole is unbelievably satisfying. the horrible itching feeling that comes with the tears arrives again when you notice your reflection in the impressively clean windows of the stark compound. through the stains of your ruined makeup, you can see the remnants of how dolled up you were, how much time was spent with the intricate details that made you smile when you looked at yourself in the mirror.

you swallow back the painful lump in your throat, opening the doors and sniffling at the dimly-lit room. your heels click tiredly on the floor, precious bracelet lightly jangling when you move. you can’t find it in yourself to care when you realize you’re dragging water inside, resigning to letting stark lecture you in the morning.

as you stand in the elevator, waiting for it to reach your floor, the emotions you’ve pushed so far down decide to spring back up in the form of an overwhelming dejected exhaustion that makes you physically slump. you lean against the cool of the metal railing, shutting your eyes hard to avoid looking at yourself. you only pry your eyes open when you hear the soft ding of the elevator, surprised and once again embarrassed to see bucky standing between the open doors.

“y/n?” he asks quietly. his demeanor immediately changes when he takes you in, body softer in the way it always is when you’re with him. his reaction makes you fall deeper, which reminds you exactly why you were going on your failed date. you straighten, clearing your throat, “um- i have to get to my room.”

your voice is thin, heightening his worries and stopping you with a gentle hand to your arm before you step off the elevator, “what’s wrong? what happened? are you okay?” he asks, and you nod blindly at all of his questions, realizing that the longer you stay with him- with his warm hand that you can’t help but lean into pressed against your cold arm- the more you really want to cry and scream because it’s not fair that he’s been given to you, yet you can’t have him, even if he has you.

“i’m fine,” you lie obviously, forcing your eyes again from his. “y/n, what happened? you’re clearly not fine,” bucky pushes, the hand on your arm beginning to rub stressed circles into your skin. you give up then, looking back at him. “i got stood up,” you say finally, words cracked. you shake your head, “and i just spent so much time on everything and-”

“that’s stupid. who would stand you up?” bucky interrupts, eyes genuinely confused while you scoff. “apparently anderson from security,” you respond bitterly, looking away. “he’s stupid, y/n. he has to be to not go to a date with you.”

you exhale frustratedly, “maybe not. maybe there’s something wrong with me and i’m the stupid one for even thinking someone would want to go out with me,” you countered. “hey, no, you are- you are amazing, y/n. amazing and stunning and intelligent and he missed his chance to be the luckiest guy in the world,” he insisted, gently pulling your attention back to him with a gentle hand on your cheek. you give him a watery laugh through the loud, unfair questions in your head: why don’t you love me like i love you, then?

you don’t realize the tears that run down the streaks of already ruined mascara until bucky points them out, wiping them away with his fingers, “no, no, don’t cry, please don’t cry,” he begs. you can’t help it, though, biting your lip to hold back your unrequited confessions of love.

“nobody wants me. i don’t even think i want me anymore,” you weep, oblivious to the breaking of bucky’s heart when he hears your words, pulling you flush against his chest. “don’t say that, doll. that’s not true-”

“it is. what other reasons can you think of that explain why i’m the only one that’s shown up to the rare dates i’ve been on? why have i had to go on those stupid dates just to forget how pathetic i am that i can’t get over you?”

you’re too deep in the ocean of your thoughts to realize what you’ve said, too little light available in the dark to let you realize the hints you have and will undoubtedly let out if you continue blubbering into bucky’s shoulder like the mess you are. your feelings are scattered, words so disorganized that any way you piece them together will be a mistake. “why else does the one person who i actually want to love me back not want me?”

bucky can make sense of the words you’re saying, the heavy weight they carry when he realizes exactly what they mean, and what you imply. he’s frozen, heart simultaneously fluttering at the mere thought of his feelings being returned and breaking at the cries you’re letting out because of him.

he’s refused to ever be the source of your pain, restricting his own poems of confessions because he didn’t want to hurt you, never wanting to be the reason you cried. he supposes now it was the wrong choice, one he needs to fix.

the bead of insecurity buried stubbornly in his mind shrieks, however, because he’s as clueless as you are and can’t possibly imagine someone like you- so kind and pure and good- loving him back. so he needs to make sure, needs to hear you say it in your voice.

“what?” you let out a watery scoff, full of embarrassment rather than annoyance at him, “don’t make me say it, bucky, please-”

“please say it- i- i need you to say it.”

a beat of silence passes before you sniffle, pulling away from the man you’ve called your best friend and wanted nothing but to be able to call him more. “i love you, bucky. in a way that makes me pretty sure you’re my soulmate because i don’t even believe in that but you make me feel like i should.”

bucky’s storm clouds lighten, doubts dissolving when he listens to what you said, tasting your words and examining each one just to remember it. he pulls your lips to his when they’ve barely processed. “you should,” he says when he pulls away for a second, only to make you lose your breath again when he aches for you immediately, kissing you again, “believe in soulmates.”

“why is that?” you ask breathlessly, letting him pull you back in because you both have been waiting- dreaming about this for so damn long, and he isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to keep away from you now that he has you. he presses a sloppy kiss to your lips, so perfectly imperfect when your teeth clash and you both laugh gently, noses nudging each other when he leans his forehead on yours, “because we’re meant to be, y/n. in that way that soulmates are.”

[devildomimagines]

Part 2 Remix

Ok, listen. First, I’m going to need you to go read this *chef’s kiss* of a post if you haven’t already. The Brothers and Undateables at one of Diavolo’s balls when a Noble starts talking down on MC by @arcadejohn127-9. There is now a part 2 for the ending (and it has been up for a while haha)!

Somewhere after the first post was published but before we had the ending, I started writing my own twist on the ending because I was so inspired and because I needed the comfort from the hurt/comfort lol. I’ve finally gotten around to finishing it and I wanted to share. You will see why it took me so long as some of these parts really ran away from me. The younger brothers and the Undateables are under the cut to save everyone’s dash. 😂

Lucifer

For a second he was torn, making that Noble pay or chase after you.

The choice was obvious, you came first.

As he made his way through the crowd, Diavolo caught his eye. 

With a few quick gestures, Lucifer had communicated he was going after you. Diavolo nodded, making his way to the Noble to take care of that side of it.

The crowd opened up enough for Lucifer to see the door to the butler’s pantry close.

He had to catch up to you before you met up with Barbatos. 

His worst fear right now is that you would take advantage of Barbatos’ power and have the timeline altered to where you never came to Devildom and never met him.

Once he was close enough he used a blast of magic to open the door and rushed into the room.

You had been wiping your tears but with the door bursting open, you jumped and scowled at who was entering. Realizing it was Lucifer, your face softened but looked away.

“You’re still here,” Lucifer held a hand on his chest, allowing himself a moment of relief.

“Well it’s not like I can teleport or fly. I’m just a human.”

The way you talked down about yourself made Lucifer’s own heart drop, your pact physically affecting him, your pride was at the lowest he had ever felt. 

As the Avatar of Pride, he wouldn’t stand for it. “You’re not just a human, MC. You’re unbelievably important.”

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, because I’m Lilith’s descendant and a part of the exchange program.”

“No, you’re important because you bring kindness and joy into everything you do. You’re important because you’ve become the anchor I’ve been trying to be for my family for centuries. You’re important because you truly try to make a meaningful difference even when it’s difficult.” Lucifer moved in front of you, gently tilting your chin up to meet his gaze, “You’re important because I love you.”

Mammon

When he recovered from the shock, he looked around.

The first brother he saw was Levi. He marched over and ordered him to deal with the Noble.

Next he moved in the direction you had stormed off in. He finally caught up to you at the coat check.

You noticed him and looked away pretending you didn’t.

“MC! You going home? I’ll go with,” he dug out his own coat ticket and handed it over to the coat checker.

“You really don’t have to.”

“Don’t be stupid, I’m going where you go,” He moved to sling an arm around your shoulder like he normally does but you shrugged out of his reach. That hurt.

“Well maybe I am stupid! Just a big dumb human who doesn’t realize they’re being used.” You hugged yourself to try to self-soothe.

It took a few moments for Mammon to register all of your words, “What? Who’s using you? Was it that Noble??” He scowled back at the ballroom.

“No, forget it.” You started walking to the exit.

He growled as he grabbed his coat and jogged to catch up to you.

You heard the rushed footsteps and paused more out of habit than anything else. “Mammon, stop.”

He had made it right behind you before he was forced to stop, the pact binding him in place. That didn’t stop his mouth though, “MC, whatever that Noble said to you, it’s a lie!”

“You don’t know what he said,” you replied coldly, “He said that I’m being used, by you and your brothers, by Diavolo, he said that none of you ever really cared about me, I was just a replacement for Lilith.” Repeating the words made them worse, it had you shaking as the sobs started to rattle your body.

“MC,” Mammon whined your name, clearly trying to force his body to move, “drop the spell,” you shook your head no so he begged, “Please MC.”

His desperation softened your resolve for a moment long enough to release the hold you had on him.

Mammon immediately turned you to face him, your tears broke him and he started tearing up. He pulled you into his chest and started, “We never thought of it that way. I was so relieved that Lilith got to lead a fulfilling life where she didn’t have to suffer turning into a demon. You were the result of her happy life that it made me so happy, unbelievably happy. But I liked you before we knew all of that, I was the first of my brothers to see how great you are.” He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, “MC, I love you so much. Please don’t doubt that.”

Leviathan

“Ouch,” he thought as he looked around. The first of his brother’s he found was Beel, his height and orange hair made him stick out. He was also in the most likely place to find him, in front of a table of food.

Levi maneuvered around party guests and tapped at Beel’s shoulder. Very quickly he explained the situation, Beel nodded with a piece of meat hanging out of his mouth and started muscling his way through the dance floor.

Next was to face you. He was nervous, had he done something he wasn’t aware of? Did the Noble point out his inferiority and MC was disgusted to have a pact with him?

He got to the bathroom and hesitated. He could hear your soft cries muffled behind the door. All nervousness left him as he knocked and called out to you, “MC?”

The cries stopped and you answered, “Go away.”

“No,” Where was this confidence coming from, he wondered as he added, “I’m here for you, please let me help you.”

“You can’t help me, you’re part of the problem.”

All of the confidence he just had was shattered. “MC… I’m sorry. If it was something I did, or didn’t do, please tell me. You know I don’t know how to handle these situations but I would never try to hurt you.”

The door swung open and Levi jumped. 

“And why is that Levi?” Your tear stained face stared him down.

“Because I c-care about you?” He was confused why you were angry at him now.

“Because I’m a replacement for Lilith?”

“No way!” Now it was his turn to be angry.

A bit of the venom was removed as you asked, “Because I’m a dumb normie human?”

“Well…” He started to joke but when you pouted he took it back, “of course not.”

“Then why?” You sniffled.

Levi looked around, you two were in a pretty secluded area. He took a deep breath and braced himself so he wouldn’t lose his nerve. “I wouldn’t hurt you because we’re a team! My player 2, my Henry, my friend! When I agreed to form a pact with you, it was because you opened my eyes to how valuable it would be to let people into my world. At that time, I had no idea about Lilith, Lucifer kept us in the dark and I chose not to seek out the light. Then you came into my life and you were so bright it hurt my eyes.” He was rambling, “Anyway, you might be a normie human but you’re my normie human! Whatever that Noble said to make you question that, it isn’t true.”

After a beat, you jumped into his arms. His heart was absolutely pounding as he wrapped you in his arms, he knew you’d hear it but he was relieved he somehow said the right thing.

Satan

He knew it was the Noble that caused your mood shift.

You retreated through a door, Satan didn’t have time to make the Noble suffer in the ways he was already imagining. 

As he headed for the door himself, he bumped into Lucifer.

It was grinding on his nerves but for your sake he asked Lucifer to take care of the Noble.

Without question, Lucifer whisked off to take care of it. He probably knew it was important since Satan would never ask anything of Lucifer if it wasn’t necessary.

Satan picked up the pace to get to the door and catch you.

He looked down both sides of the connecting hall and found you leaning against the wall facing away from where you had come from.

As he approached he realized your shoulders were shaking. It broke his heart.

When he placed a hand on your arm, you jumped out of your skin and stepped away. 

You relaxed seeing it was Satan and not someone else but making eye contact with him hurt, “Leave me alone, I just need a moment.”

You had turned to leave but he wasn’t letting you go again. He regripped your arm.

“Don’t go.”

“Satan…” You sighed trying to bring back some of your usual strength.

“Whatever that Noble said…” A thought dawned on him mid-sentence, “Did he do something to you?” The wrath in him bristled anew.

“He didn’t do anything besides point out some things.” You laughed weakly, “Actually he made some good points I should have seen for myself a long time ago.”

“What points did he make?” Satan asked.

You looked down the hall, debating an escape, “That I was just a pawn to Diavolo’s plans and a replacement for Lilith.”

“That’s not true,” Satan defended.

His tone of finality made you look back at him. He took the opportunity to explain.

“You’re no one’s pawn. You always had and will always have your free will to do as you want. Just as you’ve shown me that I’m my own being,” he held a hand to his chest, “You are your own person.”

You scoffed, “and being related to Lilith-”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Satan interrupted and finished the sentence. “I’ve heard all the stories from my brothers but I never met her. I met you though,” His hand moved down your arm to your hand.

Automatically you gave his hand a squeeze just falling into habit and he smiled.

“It doesn’t matter how you got here,” Satan started, hoping you would complete the quote from a book you both read.

Quietly you added, “All that matters is you’re here now.”

He pulled you into his arms and you let him engulf you in a warm embrace. It was so different from the sharp, cold feeling you got from the Noble that it felt like home to be here with him.

“I’ll always be here for you MC,” he whispered and you believed him.

Asmodeus

Well clearly something was wrong, you never pulled back from him like that.

He first looked around for some assistance. Things had been fine before your dance with the Noble so something happened in relation to that dance.

The first person he spotted was Satan. Asmo waved him over to the table. Satan nodded and departed from the company he had been talking to. Asmo quickly described the situation in a pretty grim light knowing exactly what would flip the wrath switch in Satan.

The blond demon stalked off after his newly provided prey.

Asmo checked his appearance in a pocket mirror before setting after you. It wasn’t like he had something on his face or a hair out of place that drove you off but he had to be sure.

He found you looking out over the Devildom with the most somber look on your face.

“MC~ You look absolutely stunning under the Devildom moon.”

You sighed. 

That wasn’t the reaction Asmo was aiming for. “Won’t you tell me what’s wrong, love?”

“It’s nothing,” you tried to smile but it didn’t light up your face like he knew it could.

“Ok,” Asmo put up his hands. He could take a hint, you didn’t want to talk about it and he wasn’t going to push and make it worse. “Let’s go home then?”

“I know you don’t want to leave. You’ve been looking forward to this all month,” You looked back out at the cityscape.

“Well I don’t want to be here if you’re not having fun,” Asmo snaked an arm around your waist and looked out across the city himself.

He felt you stiffen under his touch and he tried very hard not to pout outwardly but you rejecting him really hurt.

He said he wasn’t going to push but he had to know, “Did the Noble say something unacceptable to you?”

“No, if anything it was too acceptable, factual even.” You leaned away from him and against the railing as your face soured further.

“What did he say?”

“That I’m being used,” you looked at him to see how he reacted to the second part, “by Diavolo and your family.”

His brow furrowed and you knew it was genuine emotion since he would never risk the wrinkles otherwise.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Asmo shook his head, “That’s absolutely not what’s happening.”

“It’s fine,” you shrugged, “we all have our part to play.”

“MC,” Asmo took your shoulders and stared you down, “You are not just some pawn, you’re a very important human to me and my family!”

You looked to the side, “Only because I’m related to Lilith.”

“No? We love you for you!”

You blushed at his blunt honesty, “Oh.”

“Did you think that we didn’t care about you before we learned that you were distantly related?”

“No!” You defended, “But when he was laying out all the info, it did kind of seem like that.”

“Who are you going to trust? Some random or me?” Asmo batted his eyes at you.

After a moment you conceded, “You, of course.”

You both giggled and he whisked you to the dance floor to show you the best night of your life.

Beelzebub

“Wait MC-” Beel jumped up from table, his knees knocked it and it wobbled as he pushed his chair back.

“You couldn’t just leave like that,” he thought, “I can’t lose another…”

He found you on the front balcony. From what he could guess, you paused to take in the fresh air but then watched as you steeled yourself and briskly started your way down the stairs.

“MC,” he caught up easily even in his formalwear, “Let me at least walk you back to the dorm.”

You hesitated, not making eye contact with him, you shrugged, “fine.”

The two of you walked in silence. Beel had no idea what to say to make you stay. He cursed himself that words didn’t come as easily to him like Asmo or Mammon, he couldn’t relate it to something he read or watched like Satan or Levi usually did and he couldn’t think of the perfect solution like he knew Lucifer would.

He was the only thing standing between you and the metaphorical exit and he had to do something. 

So he did the only thing he could think of and apologized. “I’m sorry.”

It made you stop, “What?”

“I’m sorry. If it was something I said or did or ate, I’m sorry. If it was one of my brothers then I’m also sorry. Whatever it was, I’m sorry.” Tears pricked in the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t usually one to cry but he was so frustrated and felt so helpless. If this wasn’t what you wanted then you’d be gone.

“No,” you sighed, “I’m sorry, I took out my frustration on you. I’m not mad at you or your brothers. If anything, I’m mad at myself,” you laughed dryly.

“Yourself?” Beel repeated, trying to figure out how he could help you with that.

“Yeah, I should have seen it for myself but that Noble was right,” you continued onwards to HOL.

“Right about what?”

You finally looked at him and it crushed him to see the saddest smile on your face as you answered, “That I’m just some kind of replacement for Lilith. I thought you all really cared about me but your behavior did change after everyone learned I was related to her.”

Beel was frozen in shock. He watched you pick up walking home again.

“That’s not-” he started but you raised a hand to stop him.

“I get it, you guys were so happy that she lived that you wanted to show it in some way,” this time when you turned toward him you couldn’t keep the tears from falling, “and in a way I’m grateful because if I wasn’t her descendant then I wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t have met you all, and I wouldn’t have been a part of a family like yours. But I’m selfish and I wanted you to love me for who I am.”

He was finally unfrozen and wrapped you in a near-bone-crushing hug. “We do!” Beel confirmed, “We love you, MC!” He began crying, “I love you, please don’t leave.”

Enclosed in his arms, you felt his earnest emotions flood into you, “I believe you,” you wiped his tears, “Thank you for loving me.”

Belphegor

He knew it, that Noble was bad news.

Belphie looked around and easily found Asmo in the middle. He pushed past his fans and told Asmo what happened. Asmo left to take care of the Noble.

Belphie caught up with you in your room back at the HOL.

He had followed the noise and found you were angrily packing a bag, in between wiping your face.

“What’re you doing?” Belphie asked from the door.

The sudden voice made you jump, “Leaving.”

“Why?”

You paused, wringing the shirt in your hand, “We’d all be better off.”

“Because you’re a replacement?” Belphie threw your words back at you but realized his mistake too late.

When you shuddered and fell to your knees crying he wanted to disappear. How could he be so tactless?

“Yes! I’m not Lilith!” You cry-yelled at him. “I wanted so badly to be a part of your family. I did everything for you and your brothers to make amends, to prove myself and my intentions and it didn’t matter! The second you all learned about my lineage, it all changed.” 

You sniffled and added, “You hated me for being a human, I’d almost prefer that if that is honestly how you feel about me.”

Ouch. But he deserved that, “I don’t hate you,” he knelt in front of you.

“I’m just a stupid human,” he grabbed your arms and pulled you into him as you sobbed, “I don’t want to be used as a pawn, and I’m not a replacement for your sister.”

“I know, MC,” Belphie soothed, “You’re not a pawn and we know you aren’t a replacement for Lilith.”

“B-but,” you blubbered.

“No buts,” there was an edge to his voice, that he wasn’t going to take any rebuttals. “Without you, we wouldn’t have been able to move forward as a family. We’d be worse off without you in our lives.”

You shifted back a bit to look at him, “Really?”

“Really,” Belphie verified. “Don’t go,” his voice caught in his throat, his own emotions finally hitting him. What would he do without you?

You grabbed his face, assessing for yourself. “Ok…ok.” You relaxed in his hold and finally felt secure in how he felt about you.

Diavolo

You ducked into the kitchen.

He tried to follow but got stopped by a high ranking demon that he could not brush off. He was trapped, that is until Barbatos caught his gaze.

The butler swooped in, distracted the demon with appetizers and began leading them away.

Ever grateful, Diavolo smiled and then another thought hit him. He stopped Barbatos and whispered in his ear what happened between you and the Noble. Barbatos nodded and made his way to find and complete his new task.

Diavolo jumped into the kitchen before anyone else could stop him.

“MC?” he looked around and found you sitting on the counter with your head in your hands. His heart dropped.

You sniffled, “Go back to your party.”

“I don’t feel like it.” he mused.

“What a spoiled prince,” you replied.

He felt hopeful, if you were joking then surely you would recover. “Won’t you tell me what happened?”

When you tensed, he stopped inching closer.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t matter.” 

“That’s not true,” Diavolo tried to take your hands but you fought him slightly, still trying to cover your face. When you finally relented and looked at him with tear stains on your face, he swore he never felt a greater rush of love and the need to protect like he did in that moment, “You’re so important to me.” 

“Because I’m an exchange student?” You searched his face for any reaction.

“What?” He was actually dumbfounded. “You think that’s the only reason I care for you?”

“What other reason could there be? Isn’t that the whole point of why I was here in the first place?”

He paused to gather his thoughts. There were so many reasons to love you and the fact that you could be undone like this from one conversation proves that Diavolo was failing you. Still holding your hands, he raised one to kiss your knuckles. “I’ll admit that at first, my goal to build bridges between the realms was my focus, but as the program went on, I found myself looking forward to our meetings. Much to Barbatos’ chagrin, I would sneak out to steal a few moments with you and they meant everything to me.”

You had begun rubbing his hand with your thumb, tears were gone but you still looked sad.

He rested his forehead against yours, “I can’t imagine what my life would have been like if I didn’t meet you. You’ve brought a joy and sense of adventure into my life that I wouldn’t trade for anything.”

“Thanks Dia,” When you smiled softly, he could swear his heart was melting into a puddle. “I’m sorry if I ruined your night.”

“Nonsense!” Diavolo laughed and backed up to help you off the counter, “The night’s still young and I think I owe you a dance.”

You squeezed his hand, “Wait, I probably look terrible from crying!”

The kitchen door swung open to Barbatos trying to hold back Asmo. Asmo chirped, “We can help with that!”

Diavolo laughed at the sight. Barbatos sighed and released Asmo as he whipped out his travel make-up kit and busied himself with you.

Barbatos stood next to Diavolo and in a hushed tone affirmed, “The target has been captured.”

A dark look passed over Diavolo’s face as he responded, “Good. We’ll deal with him in the morning.”

Barbatos

He wanted to chase after you but his duty was of course to Diavolo and the ball at hand.

Within a few moments, he reasoned that the ball was in danger of being compromised if you weren’t there and the Noble was allowed to roam free of consequence.

Barbatos wasn’t one to ask for help but he knew that if he mentioned the Noble’s actions to Lucifer, the demon would take matters into his own hands to deal with it and Lucifer did so.

That left him to track you down. He had a feeling of where he’d find you.

Out in the garden, seated on the bench, you were fidgeting with his handkerchief.

Careful to make noise as he approached you so as to not spook you with his usually silent steps, Barbatos sat on the other end of the bench.

He caught you peeking at him so he tried not to look directly at you, knowing it would make you feel uncomfortable.

“Thank you for this,” you held out his handkerchief.

“Any time,” he accepted it and even through his gloves, he could feel the dampness. Had he left you alone for too long to have cried this much? Very slowly he folded the cloth and put it in his pocket.

“Also I’m sorry for my behavior before.” You shifted and began to explain, “I was confused and hurt, that Noble… actually nevermind.”

“There’s no need to apologize to me, though I am sorry for the distress you’ve gone through.”

Still bothered, you had to ask, “Why do you tolerate me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you only nice to me because you’re under orders to be?”

He couldn’t lie, “Lord Diavolo has directed me to be of use to the exchange students, but I’ve come to genuinely appreciate your company, if that isn’t too presumptuous.”

You peeked over again and could see a light blush on the butler’s cheeks, he wasn’t looking at you now out of embarrassment.

That earned a small smile, “It’s not, I’m grateful to hear your true feelings.” You paused thinking on what the Noble said, “Do you think the others feel the same? That they actually like me, not as some replacement for Lilith or as a tool to be used?”

Ah so that’s the idea that the Noble had planted, he rubbed his chin in thought. “While I can’t speak for the brothers, I can conclude that you mean much more to Lord Diavolo than he’d like to admit. He has never spoken ill of you in my presence. Even Lucifer, who has often verbalized his distaste for his brothers’ shenanigans, has never voiced the same of you even if you were involved in said shenanigans.”

“Well that’s something.”

“It certainly is,” He confirmed.

You giggled and it was like Barbatos was hearing his favorite song for the first time. 

After a beat, he stood, brushed himself off more out of habit than any actual dirt accumulation and faced you. You looked slightly surprised. He bowed and offered his arm, “Shall we head back in?”

Hesitantly, you took his hand, “Can I stay with you?”

“If that is what you desire,” Barbatos smiled and led your hand to hold his arm, “How could I deny a direct request like that?”

Solomon

He was stunned for a minute. Had you meant him and you weren’t on the same page or the humans and the demons weren’t on the same page?

Solomon was pretty sure that the pacts were a clear indicator of a human and a demon being on the same page.

This was the perfect opportunity to take advantage of one of his new pacts, he sent the demon to gather as much information, good and bad, that they could dig up about the Noble that had danced with you.

If knowledge was power then he wanted as much knowledge on his side as he could get before making a move.

That left him free to follow you. He caught the sight of you as you left into an adjoining hallway.

Shuffling through the crowd he broke free and got himself through the door. He looked both ways and found you at the end, turning the corner.

Although not one for running, he jogged down the hall to catch up with you.

You had turned to watch for the approaching noise and at the sight of your watery eyes he skidded to a stop.

Solomon couldn’t remember a time when he had seen you cry, not like this, where your whole being seemed depleted.

“MC…”

“I’m fine,” you wiped the tears away quickly, “I was dumb for thinking that any of this meant something to them, that’s on me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The exchange program, the demons, everything here was just all part of Diavolo’s plan and I played right into it.” Bitterly you added, “I was a pawn and I couldn’t even see it.”

“That’s not true,” Solomon rebuked. “I’m sure they did not count on you making pacts with the 7 demon brothers. They are extremely high ranking, that wasn’t an easy feat.”

“They’re not any better, they probably only did so because I was some sort of replacement for Lilith.”

“Lilith… oh yes the fallen angel that almost did not survive.” He nodded as he remembered, “Is that what they said when they made the pact with you?”

“Well not exactly…” you admitted.

“I see,” he took your hand and pulled you to a nearby bench, “I happen to know a bit about pacts.”

You rolled your eyes but he took it as a good sign, “And when entering the pact, usually one or both parties admit their reason behind entering the contract. Usually it’s the human asking for something only that demon can offer like money, power or influence, but that wasn’t the case for you was it?”

“No.”

“What was it that they were looking for from you?”

You didn’t answer for a while, thinking back on each of the pacts being forged. “If I had to sum it up for all of them, love or acceptance.”

Huh, that was pretty straightforward, Solomon wondered why he hadn’t thought of that. “That seems like something only you could have given them, I doubt they would want the same from me.”

You laughed, “I wouldn’t say that, Asmo really loves you, he always talks about you.”

Solomon groaned for effect but you both knew he cherished the bond with the demon.

“You were never their pawn, they chose to offer the pact and you chose to accept, that was not something orchestrated by someone else.”

Finally, you nodded, seeing his perspective. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” he joked.

With a light punch of his arm, you both made your way back to the party. Solomon planned on showing you a magical night.

Simeon

The walk back to Purgatory Hall was quick, too quick for Simeon to figure out what happened.

He’d seen you dancing but not who with, also why had you been in such a hurry to get away from the brothers? He thought things were going well with them.

“I’ll put on some tea, ok?” Simeon offered as you two entered the front door.

You nodded and sat at the table.

“Simeon~” Luke called, “You’re back early!” The cherub entered the room and saw you from behind, “And MC!? What a treat!”

Luke came up to your side and caught your sad expression before you could turn away. “What happened?” He shot an accusatory glare at Simeon.

Simeon looked shocked, Luke thought you were upset because of him?

“It’s nothing Luke,” you replied softly, “you were right, I shouldn’t have trusted demons.”

The two angels looked at each other shocked, neither had expected that. “Well of course!” Luke defended, “What did they do?”

You sighed, you didn’t see a way to brush them both off so you recanted the dance with the noble, the things he knew about you and the ideas he had brought to your attention.

Luke chomped down on a cookie, “Well he’s not wrong about Diavolo’s plan.”

“Luke,” Simeon admonished, “I’ve known Diavolo for a long time, he’s not one to use others for personal gain, even if he is a demon. He’s always preferred to do things his own way.”

“And those brothers?” Luke asked. You looked at Simeon expectantly, your face repeating the question, ‘And those brothers?’

“I’ve known them for a long time too. Of course they adored their sister Lilith, we all did. But no one could serve as her replacement because she was irreplaceable.” Simeon allowed that thought a moment to sink in. “I think that you've made your own bonds with them, different and separate from your ancestral lineage.”

“I suppose…” You conceded.

“Why do you even put up with them MC?” Luke offered.

Now you had to laugh, “For a while I thought they were the ones putting up with me.”

“No way!” 

“Yes way,” you smiled at him as you sipped your tea. “I think you forget sometimes that you’re all powerful beings and I am not.”

Luke blushed, “You’re powerful, in your own way!”

“Thank you,” you put your hand on his cheek and he smiled. 

You looked over at Simeon, “Can I spend the night here?” 

Although he still sensed some sadness from you, it certainly was not the same level as he had felt when he bumped into you before.

“Yes!” Luke answered first, “Please Simeon!”

With the two of you giving him pouty looks, “How can I say no?”

“Yay!” Luke cheered and ran from the room, “Sleep over!”

“It’s alright if you’d rather not entertain Luke all night,” You offered, “I can go back to the HOL, I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not getting out of this that easy,” Simeon teased, “He probably has six movies lined up already and he has been practicing making pillow forts in his room.”

You both laughed, “I appreciate you listening Simeon, I’m glad I have a guardian angel like you,” you winked as you joined Luke on the floor. He did already have a stack of movies to watch.

Simeon blushed and then shook his head to clear his thoughts as he joined the blanket pile.

[leagueoflegendsimagines]

Hello, love your work! May I request SFW + NSFW headcannons for Zed?

As a disclaimer, the difference in age between Zed and the reader isn't too great. Around 7 or 8 years - and by the time their relationship starts, the reader is a young adult. Around 20 years old.

Second disclaimer: this is a very long post. I apologize to anon for that.

SFW:

- You met Zed in a very unexpected way and, truth to be told, you never imagined that you two might ever become lovers.

- You became a honorific member of the Order of Shadows because Zed was indebted to your parents. As strong political figures in the world of Ionia, they had helped him and his Order many times - standing by his side from the dark, misty shadows of the councils. Supporting his cause.

- When they died - assassinated, nonetheless - you were heartbroken. But, as their only child, you were sent to the safest place in Ionia: Zed's sanctuary.

- Zed silently mourned the tragic death of your parents. And while he could hardly swallow the fact that such a young girl - barely a woman - would live in his order, it was the least he could do for your deceased mother and father.

- The first time he saw you... he felt a pang of shock and nostalgia. As a child, you looked identical to your mother. But now... now you looked like neither of your parents.

- No, you looked like your grandmother. A woman full of prestige and respect in the whole land. A woman Zed had always respected with his whole devotion. Willing to fight for Ionia until her very last drop of blood - a dignified and incredibly strong woman, both in body and soul.

- Physically, you did look like her. But... ah, yes. The determination and steel in your eyes. Yes, you shared the same spirit as her.

- Maybe that's why Zed took such a high interest in you. Maybe that's why he started, little by little, to care for you more than he should've ever allowed himself to.

- As time passed, you started opening yourself more to him - and to the members of the order.

- You had vowed to avenge your parents, no matter what. You had a strong character - but, at the same time, you were as gentle as the first rays of dawn and as brilliant as the sun of a bright July afternoon.

- You exhaled spring and summer. You were a breath of pure, refreshing air in the dark, hallowed hallways of Zed's home.

- For the order, you were a direct example of the things they were fighting for. In you, they saw every young girl or woman of Ionia, wishing for a brighter and better future - innocent as the melting snow of a late spring.

- Zed didn't keep you under a lock in the order. He would take you to the vast hills, forests and waterfalls to be found outside of the grim labyrinth he dedicated his life to.

- He spent so many hours watching you harvest the bounty of summer and autumn. With a white summer dress and that wide straw hat you would wear you looked like an innocent, sinful delight.

- Zed realized too late that his platonic desire to watch you slowly turned into brewing lust.

- It came to his mind one August evening as he watched you from underneath an old tree. He kept a close eye on you, admiring your sun kissed skin in contrast to the yellow dress you were wearing. It only made everything else brighter. Your eyes, your smile. The rainbow of gentle, soft colors in your hair, shining like precious stones under the sun.

- When he caught the shiver of lust wrecking his body, he recoiled in repulsion.

- Repulsion directed to his own person.

- You were his friends' daughter.

- How could he even think of you as a woman?

- Of course, he was well aware of your beauty. You ravished the heart of one too many disciples. They wouldn't even dare to make a move - you were Zed's most prized protege.

- Not even Kayn dared say anything about you - in his absence or presence.

- After all, Zed had eyes and ears everywhere.

- From then on, Zed became distant. Cold.

- You figured it out fairly quickly. As innocent as you were, you knew the power of your own charms. The power of your youth.

- You didn't have to be a beauty or an incredibly attractive woman - you only had to be yourself. And that was enough.

- Your smile, your youthful energy... it ravished him.

- Oh, how he longed to bask in your light - to enjoy the gentle sun of youth in your presence. You were a sun to him, warming up his calloused heart.

- For your young age, you were incredibly intuitive and sensitive to the energy of those around you. And, of course, you easily felt the effect you had on him.

- After all, it was quite similar to the effect you had on his students. But... it left you confused. Vulnerable. So similar, yet so different.

- Things were different with him. While you wouldn't have minded the shameless flirt with one disciple or another, only to burst into a childish smile full of radiance and leave them yearning for more as you ran outside to play or dance your worries away - with Zed things were so tense and...

- You couldn't really describe it. You didn't know what Zed would do, after all. What would happen if you flirted with him?

- Would he scold you the way he did when you trained with him? Would he accept it? Would he give in?

- You shivered at the thought of how he might react. When he allowed you to go to visit the few female friends you had in nearby villages - always followed in the shadows by him or the guards he assigned you, of course - you would hear so many stories. You had a vague idea of what love meant for a woman. Or... what to expect. But you were too innocent to know the full extent of it.

- Yet, you felt lust. Zed was a dominant and strong man. It was hard not to, as you grew older and older until you reached your ripest moment of youth. It was hard to not observe or admire him with the eyes of a woman.

- One of your friends once called him delicious.

- You couldn't help but agree.

- Your slow dance around each other came to an end one late October evening.

- It had been a cold, rainy day. As such, you spent it inside the Order's headquarters, reading and lazing around with your novels. As you got bored, you moved in silence to Zed's study.

- He knew you were sneaking in - but he never said anything to scold or push you away.

- You were his one guilty weakness, after all. The only one he could afford.

- Zed did it only because he knew you would be safer with him than with anyone else in this world.

- As you sneaked in, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders the way you always did. But this time... this time, things would be different. For a moment, you briefly wondered if he could feel your erratic heartbeat.

- But as no objection came from him, you leaned to look over his shoulder with a hum. "You're working too much." He only answered to you with a soft tap on the paper - a warning.

- With a bold move, you slipped into his lap with an apologetic smile. "You should work less now - and pay more attention to me instead."

- You felt him grow stiff under your soft weight. Surprised. Shocked. Caught unaware. You knew how much Zed hated it - but you couldn't sit around doing nothing. Not anymore.

- "You have grown very spoiled, little sun." You heard him grit his teeth, a low growl in his voice. A very obvious and threatening warning. You were pushing him too far.

- Still, what would happen if he were to break?

- So you did it.

- You shifted your position to a more daring one, your warm thighs enveloping his lap in a bold statement. Maybe this shocked him too much into stillness. Maybe this is why he didn't move in the slightest as you took off his mask - and pressed a soft kiss on his pale, cold lips.

NSFW:

- Unsurprisingly, your action killed Zed inside. He wasn't a person to chase physical pleasure. When he reached a point of frustration, he would find one or two willing women to quench his lust - no emotions, no second meetings.

- But you were different. You were something to be loved and cherished. You were... innocent. Pure.

- Maybe not so innocent - that was his impression as he looked down on you with angry, dilated pupils. As much as you tried to cower under his unnerving glance, as much as you tried to look innocent... you knew it wouldn't work on him.

- You also knew that, no matter what might happen next, you wouldn't regret it.

- You only hoped it would help settle the fire between your thighs, so closely and intimately pressed to his.

- What you didn't expect was the tight grip on your shoulders, pushing you back against his desk until he was above you - a whimper escaping your lips as his hot, throbbing pelvis pressed between your quivering thighs. Your rumpled dress left your legs exposed, vulnerable. It almost made you feel ashamed.

- "I believe someone is feeling their age a bit too much." His heated words, right next to your ear, made your breath hitch. It sent almost painful shivers down your body, warming your flesh down to your toes.

- Even for his solitary life, Zed was still a very experienced man. He was a perfectionist. He would always be an expert in everything he did - combat, reading people or pleasing his partners.

- As such, he knew how to read you like an open book.

- He also knew how to drive you crazy.

- If you wanted him, so be it.

- But he would make you earn it. And he would make you pay for being a little brat with him.

- "Do you think I'm one of my students, little sun? Do you think I'll accept your teasing and let you run away?" He watched you shake your head with a teary daze in your bright eyes. Yes, the lust was getting to you. And as he rolled his hips against you with a strength and force only he possessed, he realized it was getting to his head as well - more rapidly so as he heard your stifled, confused little moan.

- "Or do you want something more? Is that why you've been looking with those hungry eyes at me these past months? Is that why you're more focused on staring at my body than learning proper combat?" Another roll - another moan from your innocent, untouched rosy lips. It sent such delicious ripples of pleasure down his spine.

- "Do you truly want to know how a man feels? Do you think you're prepared for that?" Your spine arched painfully against him - and Zed didn't waste the opportunity to wrap his strong arm around your body, biting down almost painfully on your shoulder.

- You were a shivering mess in his arms, almost crazy with lust and desire.

- And nothing had ever felt more like home than the moment when he filled you so deeply with his cock, driving into you like a man dying of thirst - or the moment you rested your head on his shoulder, wrapped in his warmth and security. Safe. Home.

- He was your home.

- At that point, Zed knew he couldn't let you go. Not until you would push him away mercilessly.

- Until then, he would always be by your side.

- In lovemaking, Zed is a very dominant man. He enjoys your innocence and youth. He enjoys how small you are or how well you fit in his arms. There's nothing he adores more than holding your hands above your head or behind your back, fucking you roughly into the soft and almost luxurious covers of his bed.

- There's nothing he enjoys more than hearing your almost pained moans, feeling you quiver in intense, almost overwhelming pleasure.

- He is quite a large man - but by the time he gives in to your desire, you would be more than ready for him. He always takes his time with foreplay, prolonging it and frustrating you to no end.

- He adores edging you. Bringing you to the brink of orgasm time after time after time - only to offer you, with his cock, the satisfaction you desire.

- You will never feel lacking when it comes to your sex life. And while you do have your own problems, like every couple, Zed has enough wisdom and experience to deal with them in a mature and calm manner - and to show you the way to do so as well.

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

For The Lover That I Lost (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! Welcome to part 9, inspired by Sam Smith’s “For the Lover That I Lost”. This now takes place post-civil war. 

Summary: Y/n and Wanda are finally able to talk. Will the talk end in love or tragedy?

“All of the memories feel like magic, all of the fighting seemed so sweet. All that we were, my love, was tragic and you're the last thing that I need.”

“Do you think we could have that talk now?”

For a moment you just stared at the clouds floating past the small window you were seated by and let the question hang in the air. She had given you space for a few hours, but you knew this moment was bound to come. 

The problem was that your healing was precarious, you knew that, and you didn’t know if it could withstand a conversation that was sure to open the wounds you had spent months patching up. 

“Y/n?” Wanda called, cautiously placed a hand on your shoulder. 

With a deep breath you turned your body to face her. “I thought about it, and I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Wanda.” You answered honestly. 

Her brow furrowed slightly, “I understand your hesitation, but-“

“Look, Wanda, allow me to save you the trouble.” You began steadily, “You’re sorry for how everything happened. I accept your apology. You don’t want to lose me from your life. Give me some time and then we’ll work on rebuilding the friendship. Did I get everything?”

She stared at you, her eyes troubled. “Well, not exactly, I was trying to-“

Once again, you interrupted her. “And I won’t stand between you and Vision.”  You added with a snap, as if you had just remembered something important. 

“Will you stop interrupting me?” Wanda exclaimed, shocking you into silence. “Sorry, I just-… I forgot how stubborn you can be.” She rubbed her arm in embarrassment. 

You stared at her silently, granting her wish of no interruptions. Waiting for her to get to her point, that you still weren’t sure you wanted to hear. 

As you observed her, you noticed the way she nervously spun the ring she was wearing on her finger while she seemed to ponder where to begin. “Have you always done that?” you gestured to her hands, unable to stop yourself from asking.

Her eyebrows raised at your question, obviously not expecting it. “I…” she thought about it for a moment, then ducked her head slightly. “I guess it was something that I picked up from you. For so long, your nerves were intertwined with my own that it just became a habit from watching you, I guess.” She mumbled.

You bit your lip and nodded but said nothing, taking note of how her eyes closely observed the action. You gestured for her to go on.

Wanda took a deep, steadying breath, making sure she maintained eye contact with you. “First, I am no longer with Vision. I haven’t been for months.” Your eyebrows raised curiously. “You were right though, part of what I wanted to talk about was how sorry I am. Y/n, I am, so, so, sorry. You deserved so much more than what I gave you. I don’t expect you to forgive me because I certainly don’t forgive myself.” The sincerity in her voice took you by surprise. 

The glassy look in her eyes and prominence of her accent were tell-tale signs of how upset she was. It was information you wished you didn’t know anymore. You dropped your gaze to your lap, it was easier this way.

“There is no excuse-“ she continued until a quiet knock on the wall made her stop. You both looked over to see a sheepish looking Steve Rogers standing a few feet away. 

“Sorry to interrupt. Again.” He coughed awkwardly. “I just wanted to let you know we’ve landed at our temporary hide-out. It’s that house up in the distance.” He gestured vaguely as the door to the quinjet opened to reveal an open field with an unsuspecting two-story house located in the center.

Under normal circumstances you would have thought it was a beautiful sight. The knowledge that you were all there on the run, tarnished that though. You let out a quiet breath. “It’s beautiful. Where exactly are we?”

“Spain. A very rural area at that.” He replied easily.

Despite the view, Wanda couldn’t take her eyes off you. She needed to talk to you uninterrupted and it seemed as though the universe was actively trying to prevent that from happening. All she could do was hope that this wasn’t an omen. That she still had a chance. 

“How long will we be here?” Wanda questioned, finally tearing her eyes away from you.

At the question, Steve shifted in discomfort. “A few days... if that. When Natasha arrives, it’ll be best if we split into small groups at most. We’re wanted fugitives now.”

“Natasha?” you asked with a tilt of your head, distinctly remembering her on Tony’s side.

Steve nodded. “She helped me and Bucky get out. She’s wanted now too.”

Both you and Wanda shared a look of surprise, Wanda speaking up before you could say anything. “Thank you for the update, Steve. We’ll meet the rest of you inside.”

With a knowing nod, Steve took the hint and turned to catch up with Sam who had already began walking ahead. “Guess we better head out.” you mumbled.

“Can we take a walk before we go in? I’d really like to finish our conversation.” Wanda requested hesitantly, her eyes pleading.

With another steadying breath, you nodded. She seemed determined and obviously wasn’t going to let this go. “Okay, Wanda.” You stood up and walked with her out of the quinjet, veering to a small path that was on the side of the house rather than going inside. 

After walking a decent amount, Wanda stopped and took your hand, effectively stopping you as well. You looked at her expectantly. She decided she couldn’t handle another interruption and decided to just be bold. “You’re the love of my life.”

Her words were so unexpected that you just stared at her for a moment, opening and closing your mouth as you tried to process. “I’m sorry, what?” you eventually choked out.

“You are the love of my life.” She repeated with three light squeezes to your hand. “Pushing you away – not fighting for you – was the biggest mistake of my life. A mistake I never plan on making again. I was confused and thought that my powers were tied to my heart. I was wrong. The only person that has ever held my heart and will ever hold my heart is you. I want to grow old with you. I want you for the rest of my life.” Her words were passionate and desperate as she tried to express the true contents of her heart, hoping you’d believe her. 

Disbelief was the only thing you could feel as you watched her shimmering eyes remain on yours. Shortly following the break-up you had dreamed of a moment like this. Not anymore though. You couldn’t. You had spent months learning to live without her. The risk of allowing her back into your heart came at much too high a cost. You wouldn’t recover a second time. “I-I learned to live without you, Wanda. I can’t risk it with you again. I’ve played before and lost.” You answered, finally pulling your hand out of her grasp. 

“Do you still love me?” she asked in a pleading tone, ignoring your words. She took your hands back in hers, you noticed that they were shaking ever so slightly. “Tell me you still love me. Please.”

You swallowed thickly and met her eyes, “I don’t love you anymore.” You said weakly, so weakly that you didn’t even believe it yourself. 

Wanda shook her head, clearly on the verge of tears. “I don’t believe you. I know you still love me. A love like ours doesn’t just go away. I love you, Y/n. Let me show you.” Without a moment’s hesitation, she took your face in her hands and connected your lips passionately.

Wanda sighed contently at the contact she had been missing, the way you both fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. The rush of electricity was a feeling she longed for. Getting swept up in the moment, you returned her kiss temporarily before the shock wore off and the hurt settled once again. 

Pushing at her shoulders you quickly stepped back. “You can’t just kiss me and expect everything to go away, Wanda.” You shouted at her. “I think I should go.” You mumbled turning to leave.

Watching you walk away again was a nightmare vision to Wanda and she would be damned if she gave up so easily again. She ran and stopped so she was directly in your path, preventing you from going any further. “Y/n, please, I can’t imagine my life without you” The tears she had been holding back bubbled over the surface and fell down her cheeks. You fought the urge to brush them away.

“You know, I used to think of you as the person that I was going to spend the rest of my life with too. As somebody who would never hurt me. Ever.” Wanda listened to you quietly as tears flowed more steadily down her cheeks. “Now all I see when I look at you is that last moment on the roof. Of you with him. It doesn’t matter what you say, or what you do… it’s too late.”

A sob escaped Wanda’s lips as she briefly covered her face with her hands. “Y/n, please… This can’t be it.”

“It is though.” Blinking back tears, you moved to step around her. 

“Y-you’re a coward!” She cried after you, at your retreating figure. The pain clear in her voice. 

Anger quickly replaced the anguish at her words. You spun around to face her, her jaw clenched. You couldn’t believe her. “I’m the coward? No, Wanda, you are!” you shouted back.

The woman in question ran a hand through her hair, tears falling even faster. She seemed at a loss. “You’re the one that chose to run instead of staying and fighting!” 

Her words made something in you crack, she had no right to be angry. To pin the demise of what you both once were on you. “How is that fair?” you snapped at her. “I was supposed to stay and fight for someone who had very clearly decided they didn’t want me anymore? You don’t get to pardon yourself. The ashes of our relationship are on you and you alone.” You gritted out bitterly. 

For a moment she just stared at you, her chest heaving as she clutched at her chest. Almost as though your words physically impacted her. “I…I’m sorry.” she took a deep breath and recollected herself. She reached out to you, you stepped back. Her face contorted in pain at the knowledge that you didn’t want her anymore. 

“I know I don’t deserve it and you have no reason give it to me, but please, give us a second chance. Let me prove to you I mean what I say, to prove that you… you are everything. There will never be anyone else. I love you.” her eyes met yours pleadingly, slowly breaking before your very eyes.

You took your own deep breath and braced yourself for the words you were about to say. “Wanda, we don’t stand a chance. It’s sad, but it’s true. We’re bound to end in tragedy.” You said quietly, staring off in the distance because you weren’t sure you could handle watching her reaction. “It’s time to move on.”

Like a magnet though, your eyes found hers either way. 

Broken. That’s the only word that came to mind when you saw her expression. Broken sobs left her lips. Her eyes glistened as they desperately searched yours for something, something that you had blocked off long ago. “You don’t mean that.” She whispered, her lips trembling along with her words. 

You shut your eyes for a moment and prepared yourself to close the door on what you both had. “Goodbye, Wanda.” You whispered as you walked off without looking back.

If you did, you would have seen the way she fell to her knees. The knowledge that she had no one to blame for her own broken heart but herself bringing her to her knees. She buried her face in her hands as sobs wracked through her body. Longing for the comfort of your arms.

Silent tears rolled down your cheeks as you listened to the sound of her cries in the distance, but you knew it was for the best... At least you hoped it was.

That night Steve announced that it would be in everyone’s best interest to split up for the time being as he handed out older phones to everyone so each of you could be contacted and check in. After his announcement everyone retreated to their room. You quietly let Steve know where you planned on going and told no one else. 

As you discreetly prepared to leave the following morning, you found a dozen flowers at your door, half purple violets and half white dittanies. The memory of the last time you saw these flowers filled your mind bittersweetly. A memory that no longer felt like it belonged to you.

When Wanda awoke, she was disappointed to find the flowers she had gifted you back at her door and the room you were staying in empty. Even if her heart ached, she knew that she couldn’t give up. She’d try and try again because your love was worth fighting for and she wouldn’t let you go again. She was determined to spend the rest of her life trying to win you back if she had to. There was no other path for her.

And there we have chapter 9! Angst, angst, angst. I got a little carried away lol. Only 3 more to go, where do you think the reader and Wanda will go from here? As always, hope you all enjoyed and thoughts and comments always welcome. 

P.s. did anyone catch a hint of a different Sam Smith song in there? It may be a hint for the next chapter, it may not be. Still deciding. 

[qingxintea]

heartbreak avenue (3) || albedo x reader

heartbreak avenue (1) heartbreak avenue (2) -- tell me how, do you do this thing called living? when theres nothing more to gain. gn reader -- ignore the link below idk how tf to hyperlink on mobile but that’s ur part 4 ig

damn. imagine missing mond so much that you visit just for the vibes and accidentally become a one time vigilante for dominating over a couple abyss mages

how oddly specific!

you moment.

TO BE FAIR, you didn't mean to and also ur just strong with that 245% crit damage ugh yeah yeah get it ig

it was night time, like, idk 1am and you were in this cloak because idk look swaggy and comfortable

abyss mage went ŏ̸̡̡̹̘͉̫̬̬̭̘̙̝͐͒̆̈́̒̿̄́͠͝ǒ̸̧̺͕̣̬̝̱͈̭̭̻̮̈̏̔͆̑̀̍ǫ̵̡̜̲̭̠̤̰̹͍̣͎̤̈́̓̍͠ḩ̴̡͍̣̹̯̭̩̮̣̩̭́̔̀̍͊̂͒́̆͘͜͝͝ȃ̷̧̡̢̡̨̛̪͓̤̜͕̳̦̼͊̏̃͆̓̈́̈́̽̈́͌͐̋̚ͅh̸̡̩͍̟͕̥͚̰̰̟̮̖̪̉̈́͛͂̍̾a̸̧̢͕̙̞̳̩͈̲͉͕̒̆̎̐̎̍̀͊͘̚͝h̸̡̼͓̝͕̫̤̰̱̬̣̗͚̙̀͜ and you were like "lmao shut up"

and like it did! because you made it shut up and also mans diluc was watching in his dark knight hero thingy

of course you noticed his presence from the beginning, you just wanted to piss him off and act like he wasn't there at all

you walked. straight past him like he was actually on the bridge in the middle and you just w al ked .

i mean ofc he gonna say something. and he did. dude said "who r u"

stared at him directly in the eye and said "the embryo made of chewed bubblegum."

he stared. sh o ck ed . what were you even saying

"jk im a resident of mondstadt, visiting from my liyue trip."

"and how do i know you arent lying?"

you sighed and grabbed your dendro vision, letting him look at the frame. "its incased in a mondstadt styled frame." after a few seconds, you put it back. "if that is all, i'll be going."

"k"

"literally fuck off" you responded and walked inside.

sometimes you forget how rude mondstadt people are lmao loser.

ok so like this donna girl really went up to you like "JFKLSJFLKSDJFL NUMBER ??? HELLO ?? UMM THE WAY YOU SAVED MONDSTADT RLKDFFC" and you resisted every urge to flip her off on the spot.

you just stayed and let her talk, smiling through all of it. your hood was still on but it was quite windy s ooo

its been ten minutes. girl please let us go. you were literally begging for anyone to cut in because ur too nice (or unbothered) to tell her to shut up even though you totally went off on diluc aadahahhshdf

and someone did! not the one you expected though.

"good evening donna, and... oh? who would you be?"

ALBEDO LMAO GET STICKBUGGED? ? ? ?? AH a hjfkahfjah . im so funny .

guys i meant that ironically please

anyway

you got even more uncomfortable lmao and you just looked at him and smiled. what do you respond? "no one of importance."

he heard your voice, saw your eyes and it registered. it was you...

or was that what he wanted to believe?

cause this whole time hes been waiting for you, only using experiments as a thing to pass time. it got... a little more lonelier, because nothing could replace you.

he decided to not believe it. because 1) you knew well they welcomed you with open arms, so there would be no need to hide yourself

(which is also proof of how much the whole situation fucked up your thinking)

a second of silence before he continues on the conversation with normal evening meeting stuff things idk

then ur like "ahhshaaajk i must be taking my leave now for matters i will not disclose ahaha skidoosh"

skidoosh

so you go to the big venti statue next to the cathedral and just stand. stare. yikes

no ones out right now and theres nothing to do. but you remember this place because its where the both of yall would eat together whenever he had free time (which wasnt that often, but he still made the effort)

you look up to the sky, counting all the stars like you used to.

no ones gonna know that you're here, you decided on that. you only visited because you simply missed it, but after this, you were going back to liyue.

no ones gonna know. because no one needs to know. no one needs to know that you were here. that would only cause more trouble to the situation you tried to avoid

albedo ends up catching up to you later, still having some spark of hope left that it really was you

i mean lowkey there isnt really anything saying it wasnt. he wanted to believe that he was just overthinking when he thought it really wasnt you

like you look the same. sound the same. its just the reasoning of you coming here, but he can push that aside

"(y/n)."

you flinch but didnt react with anything else. he doesnt need to know that its you.

"(y/n)?"

you turn around to meet his eyes as he was approaching you. slightly distancing yourself another inch away as you were not used to the proximity, you responded, "i'm afraid i'm not the one you're looking for."

albedo stops for a moment, and was about to apologize,, but then

yknow that wind i mentioned earlier? like right after donna started bothering you

yeah that same wind blew ur hood off! lmao L

okay time to get serious !

you stay composed and sighed, your breath visible in the cold air.

so your features are exposed, and its so obviously you, like theres literally no way it cannot be you

"it really is you..." he doesnt understand why youre not admitting to it. "(y/n), please.."

you shake your head and walk away but mans grabs your wrist gently

"(y/n), whats wr-" he starts, but youre quick to respond

"im not (y/n)." you flat out said it and looked right into his eyes. and you swear there were small tears even if he was deemed nonchalant.

he doesnt understand, its your physical features, and your same energy, there is no other person that completely matches it.

he pulls you closer to examine this black smudge on your hand, a small yelp of surprise coming from you.

"this is... ink," he studied the properties of the substance. "you responded to my letter a day ago. (y/n)... i know by now. there's no reason to hide it."

you step away, freeing your hand from his grasp. your voice broke, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. "i'm not... i'm not (y/n). i never will be. i'll never be so vulnerable again, i'll never be so naive again, i'll never be so lonely again, i will never ever be anything like they were again."

your vision blurred, but you werent oblivious to the tears streaming down his face as well. reaching to brush them away, you paused and let it drop to his shoulder instead.

"albedo. i... the (y/n) you knew... they're gone now. and if i could revert back to them any time, i would, i swear, but... i'm al-... they..." you buried your head in your hands. "i'm broken. to the point that i refuse to identify as the (y/n) you know me by."

doesnt know what to say, so he almost pulls you into a hug before you move out of the way. something you never did.

"don't... please. it never works out in the end." you shake your head, facing the other way. "for me at least."

"..we could work together, no?" he tried, still oblivious about your feelings towards him.

"only if you're willing to cross your moral boundaries," you looked back and tilted your head. taking a deep breath, you continued, "but you know that neither of us are willing to do that."

he couldn't say anything, because as much as he hated to admit something for once, you were right about that. at this point, he would've thought that literally any extent would've been fine to reach to bring you back.

yet in multiple situations where he's doubted himself before, theres always a line he will never cross.

"...i wish you the best. treat her well because i worked hard." you walked away without him stopping you this time. i worked hard. not we worked hard.

even if you had honestly felt that way, there was no chance the old you wouldve actually voiced that.

and so he watched you slip from his grasp again, only this time, he stopped himself from holding you back from his own will.

yet he swears- the next time he meets you again, he will bring you back.

[peaceisadirtyword]

Move On VII (Modern!Ivar/Reader)

A/N: Hello!🥰 It’s 2am and I can't sleep, I have a terrible headache and everything hurts (I’m getting my period this week lol) so I thought I’d try to finish the chapter and post it so I’d feel a bit more productive. I had a lot of deadlines and exams these past weeks because I finished some courses and started new ones. Now I have a week of holidays but I can't relax :( I’ve been sick too, so I barely had time to focus on writing. This chapter might suck, but I’d try to fix it with the next one (which if everything goes well I’ll post this week too!). There’s only three chapters left after this one, so at least try to enjoy it!💞 Thank you for all the comments and the messages🙏🏻 I’ll try to answer to all of them!

Warnings: angst, a bit of fluff, Ivar, talk of jealousy, mentions of harassment (this part is complicated, it’s nothing very detailed, but basically mentions of someone trying to flirt, making unwanted advances and putting a woman on an uncomfortable situation, don’t read that part if it triggers you, it was difficult to write and I can imagine it can be difficult to read💕)

Words: 3553

Move On Masterlist

gif belongs to @timotay-chalamet

my boy Hvitty by @honestsycrets

For a moment, Ivar's face softened enough for you to let your guard down. He sighed and sat on your bed, running his hand through his hair. 

"You were with Freydis two days ago, right?"

You tensed up. Was it what you thought it was?

"Yes, we went to a club together... Well, not together, on the same group..."

"And..." he bit his lip "Y/N, did you see her kissing someone?" 

You sighed, sitting down next to him. You might wanted to hit him, yell at him and kick him out of your flat, but at the same time you didn't want him hurt. You didn't want him feeling what you were feeling. 

"Who told you?" 

"Hvitserk" he shrugged "It's true or not?" 

"Yes, Ivar" you said softly. Your hand touched his shoulder hesitantly, trying to give him some type of comfort without making him feel uncomfortable. Ivar wasn't one that liked physical contact with someone that wasn't his partner "I went to the bathroom because I didn't feel well" you muttered "And when I got out I saw her leaving the club with a guy, and they kissed" 

He nodded slowly. For a moment you thought he'd cry. 

"I'm sorry, I would have told you sooner but I..."

"I don't believe you" he moved abruptly to push your hand away, and turned to glare at you with his jaw clenched "I think you're making this up" 

You raised an eyebrow. The urge of slapping him came back stronger than ever. 

"What?"

"I think you're jealous" he narrowed his eyes "I think you're lying"

You gasped, shaking your head and rubbing your eyes. 

"Why would I lie to you, Ivar?" 

"Because you are in love with me" he stared at you with a serious face. He actually believed it "You want me to leave Freydis and go back to you"

You stood up, glaring at him and biting your tongue to hold yourself back from yelling a string of insults at him. 

"When have I ever lied to you?" you nearly trembled in rage. 

"I don't know, Y/N" he glared back at you "You tell me"

"Never" you spat "Never in my entire life I lied to you Ivar, and yes, I might be in love with you, I will always love you, and that's exactly why I would never even imagine to make up something like this to hurt you" the tears threatened to fall down your cheek but you refused to let them, he didn't deserve those tears "I would never hurt you in purpose, I'm not like you" 

He clenched his jaw again and looked away. 

"I'm tired of you treating me like shit, I don't deserve it" you shook your head "And I don't care how much I miss you, I'm not letting you come to my house to call me a liar, Ivar"

He rolled his eyes with an annoyed expression. You wondered why he even bothered to come and ask you if he didn't believe it. 

"I love Freydis, Y/N" 

"I know" you shrugged, your heart broke a bit more if it was even possible, but you managed to hide it. 

"And she loves me" he insisted "And she makes me feel special, and she made me realize that I am special" he shrugged "She wouldn't lie to me"

You took a deep breath, shaking your head. 

"You can believe whatever you want, I just told you what I saw"

"Fine" he rolled his eyes again "But don't go around telling everyone"

"So you don't believe me?" you asked softly. 

This time Ivar hesitated. He stared at you for a couple of seconds before frowning and looking down. 

"I don't know" he muttered "I'll talk to her" 

You nodded. He stood up with some difficulty, groaning and grabbing his leg with a grimace. You bit your lip and looked at him carefully. You didn't remember the last time his eyes were so blue, and his movements were much slower and accompanied with soft groans. But you chose not to say anything, he wasn't in the mood. 

"Ivar" you said softly when he was about to open the door. He didn't turn around, but he stood still "You said she makes you feel special... Did I ever make you feel like that?"

You didn't even know why you asked that. It was something that had been on your mind ever since he broke up with you, even if it wouldn't make a difference now, at least you'd know if he had felt something that was at least close to what you felt for him. If he had loved you, even if it was only once. Because that would mean you had been enough. 

Ivar hesitated. He stood there, with his head lowered and breathing heavily. Then he opened the door and left the room. 

When he reached the living room, he glared at Alfred again, who seemed relieved to see him leaving.

"The two of you can... Go back to whatever you were doing" he scoffed, but Alfred caught him clenching his jaw at the sight "She's good in bed, if you don't believe me ask my brother"

"I think you should leave, Ivar" he stayed still, not letting him see that he had bothered him. 

He rolled his eyes, but left the flat closing the door roughly. As soon as he had left, Alfred stood up and approached your bedroom. He knocked on the door, even if it was widely open. He heard you sniffing inside but waited patiently until you responded. 

"Yeah... Come in" 

You were sitting on the bed, drying your tears with the back of your hands. 

"Hey" he sat next to you as you took a deep breath. It was like going back to the beginning. Would it ever end? "Are you okay? What did he tell you? Want me to call someone?"

You shook your head. You weren't in the mood to see anyone else right now. 

"I'm sorry, this was a disaster again" you muttered, sniffing. 

"It's fine, it's not your fault" he caressed your arm softly "I really enjoyed dinner with you, let's ignore your ex barging into your house part" 

You giggled, rubbing your face and shaking your head. 

"We can... Eat dessert?" you shrugged "Try and fix this" 

"Sure" Alfred smiled "I think you could use a bit of chocolate"

________________________________________

For the first time in months, he didn't feel like seeing Freydis. Ivar was furious, and for the first time he couldn't really blame anyone but himself. He didn't really believed Hvitserk when he mentioned Freydis cheating, but he went to see you anyway. He wanted to hear that Hvitserk lied from you, because he trusted you.

But then you confirmed it, and he convinced himself you were just jealous and trying to break them up. But it wasn't like you. Besides, you had sex with his brother and were in the middle of a date (was it a date?) with Alfred. It seemed like you were trying to move on. 

Now he had doubts. Serious doubts. And he didn't really know how to deal with it. He never had this problem with you. Should he just ask her? Or maybe throw hints until she said something? 

Ivar yawned and rubbed his eyes. He was so tired he felt like passing out at any moment. Now he wasn't only in pain and stressed about Freydis' possible cheating, but he was also thinking about what you'd be doing with the fucking Alfred after that dinner. 

He didn't even know why he didn't answer your question. A simple 'yes' would have been enough, and maybe the two of you would feel better afterwards. Ivar missed you, and even if he was angry at you and Hvitserk for fucking, he thought he'd like to be friends with you again, when things had calmed down a bit. But after his own reaction seeing you move on with other people he wasn't sure he could do it.

"Ivar?" Freydis' sweet voice startled him. He heard the front door closing and her steps towards his bedroom. He had given her a spare key, and now he was regretting it. 

She opened the door without knocking, and her beautiful face lightened up when she saw him. 

"Hi..." He cleared his throat, his voice weak and tired. She pouted and frowned in worry, moving to kneel on the bed next to him.

"Are you feeling well? Do you need anything, my love?" she kissed his forehead softly. Ivar frowned and, for the first time during their relationship, he moved his head away. 

"I'm fine" he lied "Just tired" 

She caressed his face and he felt uncomfortable. Should he just...?

"Ivar" she muttered "You know you can tell me everything, right?" 

His eyes found hers again. Freydis didn't stop smiling even if she obviously noticed his cold demeanor. 

"I love you" she insisted "More than anyone else, you are the most special person I've ever met, and I'd do anything for you" she whispered into his ear "You know that, you know you're the most important person for me" 

Ivar nodded slowly. She told him ever single day how much she loved him. With words, whispering into his ear and giving him sweet kisses that clouded his mind. Freydis looked at him like he was the only man in the world. She would never betray him. 

"Yeah" he relaxed into her arms "I know"

_______________________________________

"Ivar, please, talk to me" you sighed, leaving your coat on the back of the couch with a sigh "What's wrong?"

You knew what was wrong, you had seen it on his face. But you were determined to make him talk, to make him tell you what was wrong so the two of you could talk about it and work it out. 

He kept scowling, looking away and clenching his jaw, and he sat on the couch and threw his crutch on the floor without looking at you. 

After nearly a month too busy to spend time with each other, Ivar had managed to get reservations for one of the most expensive restaurants in town. One of those you couldn't even imagine to glance at the door when you walked past it. It was incredibly hard to get a table in there, but the Lothbroks had contacts, and no one on his right mind would refuse a reservation to Ivar. 

You were so excited, and treated yourself to an entire day of self-care, with a relaxing bath, facial masks and shopping for new lingerie to spend the night with him after one of the most stressing months of your life. You wore a light blue, silk dress that felt soft and comfortable around your body. Ivar's eyes flashed when he saw you, and you couldn't stop smirking for a few minutes. You felt sexy, confident and desired, and couldn't wait to get home so you could enjoy his attention in a more intimate atmosphere. 

But Ivar wasn't the only one that appreciated your outfit. The waiter at the restaurant seemed to like it too, and he made it clear since the beginning. 

You had raised an eyebrow at the first comment, but smiled softly and thanked him when he called you "beautiful lady". Ivar didn't like it, and he glared at the man until he left. Ignoring your boyfriend, the waiter kept flirting with you, no matter how Ivar cut him off and interrupted him whenever he started talking to you. 

Until he had exploded. He practically threatened the waiter with a cold, calmed voice. It had scared you, as you knew he was unpredictable and could lose his temper very easily. 

During the ride back home, he hadn't said a word. Instead, he held your hand and kept you close. Until the two of you reached his flat and you couldn't stand it anymore. 

"Ivar" you insisted, sitting next to him "Are you angry at me?"

He looked at you briefly, and shrugged. 

"No" 

That relieved you. At least he didn't blame you. As a woman, you had to deal with that kind of situations during your entire life, and most times you got blamed, saying you dressed too 'provocative' and that men had instincts. It wasn't nice, it was actually very uncomfortable and you never knew what to say. You thought that if they saw you were with your boyfriend they wouldn't say anything, but apparently they didn't respect any of you. 

"I didn't..."

"It's not your fault, Y/N" he rolled his eyes "I'm just angry" 

"Then talk to me, tell me what's wrong" 

"A guy just spent an hour and a half flirting with you on my face, Y/N" he scoffed "He stared at you and kept flirting even if I was there with you" 

"I know" you sighed "I'm sorry, I didn't engage with him, I ignored him but he kept..."

"He did it because I can't walk, Y/N"

You raised an eyebrow. 

"I'm sure that wasn't the main reason"

"Not the main reason, the main reason is obvious" he growled, rubbing his eyes "But I can assure you, if you had been there with Ubbe or Hvitserk he wouldn't have done it" 

"Ivar..."

"You know it" 

"Ivar, you know I don't care about that" you sighed "We have this conversation every single day, and we will keep having it until you realize that I love you"

Ivar stood silent. Yes, you did tell him that constantly, but he couldn't help but wonder when you'd realize he wasn't worth it. 

"Hey" you insisted. He sighed and shook his head.

"Are you okay?" He turned to look at you "Do you need me to go back there with my brothers and kick his ass?" 

You giggled, shaking your head and moving closer to him. 

"No, I'm fine" you kissed his cheek "I'm sorry that idiot ruined our night" 

Ivar hummed as you pouted, leaning your head on his shoulder.

"We still have time to fix it" his eyes fixed on the dress you were wearing. It infuriated him, but he could understand why the guy at the restaurant was so obsessed with you. 

You smiled softly. He looked more relaxed, and he finally leant against your body.

"Y/N, can you promise me something?" 

You raised your head, frowning softly at him when he sounded too serious. 

"I... Think so?"

"If you ever feel attracted to someone else, if you feel like you're falling in love with someone else..."

"Ivar..."

"No, let me finish" he shook his head "Please tell me first"

"I don't think that will happen, but I promise I'll tell you" you pressed your forehead against his "I would never cheat on you, Ivar, and believe me when I say I can't even think about looking at other people" 

He understood that feeling. Ivar saw beautiful women everyday, he wasn't blind and he looked at them, but at the end of the day you were the only one he wanted. For him, you were the most beautiful person in the world. 

Ivar leant in to kiss you softly. You smiled against his lips and your arms went around his neck to pull him closer. The night might had started as a disaster, but the two of you intended to fix that.

________________________________________

"So you still intend to go to that wedding" Hvitserk raised an eyebrow when he saw the store you were leading him to "After everything that happened" 

You shrugged, biting your lip. 

"Torvi and Ubbe called to make sure I was going, and I still feel bad for talking to her like that..."

"Don't" he rolled his eyes "You were right, she's just excited because if you dated Alfred you'd join their club"

"What club?" you chuckled "I'm not going to date Alfred, or anyone, for a while. She knows that" you shrugged.

Hvitserk finished his cigarette and looked at the store again. 

"So you brought me to find a dress" he sighed "I thought you said you had a fun plan for today" 

"And what is better than shopping for clothes, Hvitty?" You giggled "Besides, I'm sure you need a suit too! Because you're coming, right?" 

You knew Hvitserk wasn't very excited about the wedding. He didn't really get along with Ubbe anymore, and Torvi had made very clear she didn't like him. But you couldn't attend without him. Hvitserk had became your rock, your main support and the only one that seemed to understand every single thing that went through your mind. 

"I don't know..." 

"Please" you pouted "Please, Hvitty, I need you there" you tilted your head. 

"You're going with Alfred, aren't you? Why do you need me there then?" 

"I can go with you too" you smiled softly "Or you can invite Thora" you winked "But please, don't leave me alone with them" 

He sighed, low-key enjoying the fact that you needed him there. He was going to go with you anyway, but he wanted to hear you begging a bit. 

"Okay" he shrugged "But if my family gets annoying, we're leaving" 

You nodded with a wide smile on your face and jumped to hug him tightly. Hvitserk couldn't help but smile and hug you back, turning his head to kiss your temple softly. 

"Was Ivar too harsh the other day?" he asked, on a more serious tone, as soon as the hug ended. He has wanted to kill his brother when he learnt (after Alfred called him and bitterly implied that he should control Ivar better) that he had practically bursted into your flat.

Your expression changed, and your smile faded. Hvitserk felt a bit guilty, but he truly wanted to know. 

"No" you shrugged "He was... Ivar, he said I was making things up because I was jealous, and then proceeded to explain to me that he loved Freydis, and that she makes him feel special and yeah" you rolled your eyes, walking to the store.

"She just knows what he wants to hear" Hvitserk shook his head, opening the door so you could step into the store "She inflates his ego, that's all, it's not love, its manipulation"

"Maybe she does love him" you sighed, shaking your head "They seemed to be much closer than we were"

"Maybe" he shrugged "I just know my brother was in love with you, but now I barely recognize him" 

You opened your mouth to say something, but a woman approached you with a wide smile. 

"Hello! Can I help you?" 

____________________________________

"I'd pick that one" Hvitserk had put his head inside the changing room, making you jump and look at him through the mirror. 

"Do you think so? I liked the red one"

He raised an eyebrow.

"You always wear red"

You bit your lip. He was right, you always wore red. Maybe because it was Ivar's favorite color, because you liked the way he looked at you when he saw you dressed in red. How he'd smile and kiss you deeply before whispering into your ear how beautiful you looked. 

Maybe because you liked it.

"I know what you're thinking" Hvitserk shook his head entering the changing room and closing the door. He didn't seem to care about the warning the woman had given him earlier "Your eyes lighten up and you get that enamored expression and yeah, I know what you're thinking"

"I don't know what you're talking about" you smiled with an innocent expression.

Hvitserk rolled hie eyes.

"You look pretty in red, we all agree on that, but this one" he pointed at the dress you were trying "You look like a fucking goddess with this one, you could come and break my heart with this on and I'd thank you" 

You giggled, shaking your head. The silk dress was black and tight around your body, but width under your hips. It had a split that exposed your right leg, and it was truly beautiful. Hvitserk chose it, and even if you felt a bit awkward, you kind of liked it.

"Maybe I'll take this one" you muttered, caressing the soft fabric. 

"It would be rude to look better than the bride" he winked at you. 

"Shut up" you laughed "You're too sweet, Hvitty, I wish I was in love with you" 

He smiled softly at you. 

"I wish I was in love with you too, you're like my soulmate" 

"Maybe we are soulmates" you turned to look at him with a smirk "But friend soulmates" 

"I agree" he winked at you again. You were used to Hvitserk's flirty tone, and this time you wished you could feel something more than friendly love for him. Things would be much easier if you had fallen in love with him.

"Thank you, Hvitty" you pouted. You took his hands and looked at him "You're helping me so much and you're my best friend, and you didn't have to cope with me and my breakdowns" 

He shook his head with a smile and moved to hug you again. You relaxed against his body. 

"You're literally the sweetest person in the world, Y/N" he muttered "Now, I'm going to get out before that woman thinks we're fucking and calls the police"

________________________________________

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[teratalia]

Alien girlfriend x reader

I wrote a short little snippet from this writing prompt from the wonderful @monsterkinkmeme and I ended up expanding on it!! Listen, I created this alien girl just for this prompt but now I love her. I love her so much,, constructive criticism and comments are always welcome, it's my first time posting something like this :)

Quick notes: oblivious/dense fem reader, very lemony yet fluffy, let's call it lemon candy? lemon sweets? idk? (fingering, tribadism) 

“Aleya? Would you come here for a moment?” you call out. You don’t have to wait long before you’re joined by your new lab partner.

“Yes?” Her voice, quiet and airy, reaches you before she does. She leans over your shoulder, squinting curiously at your workstation with eyes lacking both sclera and pupil, just sky blue irises.

Her midnight blue skin fades to black at her humanoid forearms and shins, and she ties her long purple hair into her usual braid with two out of four arms. White star-like freckles are scattered over her face and body, and she looks like she creates new constellations with every move she makes.

“Sit, sit,“ you urge, patting her back. Aleya hesitates for just a second before doing so.

“Look at the reaction this plant gives.“ Very gently, you stroke it with a gloved hand. Its petals flutter and then open wide, revealing another layer of petals that are closed tight.

“Last time I tried that, the inner part still would not open.“

“Yes, but watch this.”

Carefully, you run your fingertips over certain petals in a sequence that took you hours to find. Finally the inner petals open to reveal a colorful ball-like fruit, not unlike a mandarin, which the flower leans over and gently deposits on the table before sealing up the layers of petals again.

Instead of watching the flower, you watch Aleya’s face. Unlike humans, her kind doesn’t tend to show much by way of facial expressions, but her eyes widen slightly and her braided hair undoes itself and winds around in a twist before untwisting and twisting all over again.

“That’s incredible. We’ve got to study this fruit immediately.“ Her tone also doesn’t change, but you swear you can hear an undercurrent of excitement. “You’ve done a wonderful job.”

“Thanks! But before that, I want to take a break. Care to join me?” You stand, slowly stretching out limbs sore from disuse and discarding your gloves. She agrees, her stocky frame barely reaching your shoulder.

You beam and pat her on the back, running your thumb over the exposed skin there affectionately as you guide her away. She shudders and her braid comes undone just a bit.

“Are you okay?”

Aleya nods jerkily, braid slowly retying itself.

Humans call her people the Astra because of the characteristic star freckles and deep galaxy-colored skin. You're still learning about her, and she about you as well. You could never truly tell if she was happy to work with you or not, but you liked to think she was content. This assignment almost felt like being roommates with a cat that seemed aloof, but would come up to you quietly for affection. Aleya seemed to like the affection, or at least hadn't said anything to the contrary.

Seated in the kitchen, you gather some snacks and munch away. Aleya doesn't need to eat as much as you do, and only eats human food to be polite. For her snack, she grabs a pressurized bottle of hydrogen-helium mix and sips like it's water.

"I am quite pleased with your progress today," she says, almost making you drop your drink. She almost never speaks to you first, so you're eager to keep her talking.

"Did you expect that little fruit?" you reply excitedly. She actually smiles back at you, small lips curving up.

"I did not. Is something wrong?"

"No, no. I didn't think Astra really smiled, is all."

"We do not. I have noticed that it is something you do when you are happy, and assumed it was a human thing. Is it not?"

You blink at her, then beam. "You would be right. I have to say, I'm flattered that you're noticing things about me."

Very briefly, her star freckles on her cheeks turn pale pink, but turn back to white so quickly that you're sure you imagined it.

Aleya tilts her head down, toying with her bottle. "Is it not customary to learn more about one's lab partner?" Her hair falls forward, hiding her face.

"Of course it is! I can't believe how nervous I was when I was assigned to work with you. It's been such a pleasure so far."

Her hair curls up to obscure her face even more, and the exposed freckles on her shoulders turn pink. It might be out of curiosity, to tease her, or a mix of both, but you make a guess out loud.

"You're very cute when you're embarrassed, Aleya. You don't have to be embarrassed."

The pink sparkle brightens and you giggle as her hair nearly cocoons her upper body, hiding her whole face and torso from sight. Only the faint glow of her pale blue eyes and pink freckles shine through.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop. Come on, don't hide." Reaching out, you pat around where the top of her head should be. Her hair slowly unfurls and flows down her back as she glares up at you under your hand.

"Must you make such jokes?" she grumbles quietly.

"Sorry, Aleya. I do mean what I said though. You're very cute."

Sliding your hand down her hair, you pat her back like always. She lets out a shaky sigh, hair twisting around itself and eyes narrowing, hands squeezing around her bottle. Frowning, you snatch your hand away, making her look up at you again.

"I really am sorry," you repeat more slowly. "I don't like making you uncomfortable, and I also don't like the thought that you might be forcing yourself to adjust to human customs."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"Humans tend to like physical touch, but I've been so inconsiderate because I don't know if you like it. I never realized how distressed you look when I touch you so casually. I'm sorry. I just, I need a bit."

Discarding the empty food wrappers, you hurry off to your room, dropping down onto the pillows and leaning against the headboard. You can't shake the feeling that you've been royally messing up with Aleya, and maybe she was just pretending to be comfortable around you. If casual touch is something that the Astra don't do, you might have been subjecting her to something really awful. It just made you want to apologize all over again.

A knock on the door draws you out of your spiraling thoughts. When you don't reply, the knock grows louder and more insistent.

"Come in."

Aleya slips into your room and shuts the door behind her. Her hair is curled up as if with giant rollers, huge curls rolling and unrolling in constant, restless motion. Her star freckles are an odd shade of orange that you haven't seen before.

With a sigh, you indicate the rest of the bed next to you. "You can sit, if you want."

Aleya perches on the bed, actively trying to suppress the movement of her hair with two hands. The other two are folded in her lap.

"I need to apologize to you," she starts, holding up one hand when you try to protest. "You deserve to know some truth about Astra. About me. Yes, the touching is quite foreign to me, but it didn't actually make me uncomfortable."

"You're sure?" All that shivering and hair unfurling seemed to indicate otherwise…

"Why do you think I have been wearing a lot of clothing that exposes my back and my shoulders?"

"You weren't just too warm in the lab?" Finally you let yourself relax. The star freckles are no longer that strange orange, but now they’re turning pink. "Is there something else you need to tell me?"

"Touching my back the way you do, it…" The curls in her hair seem to multiply as she struggles to speak.

You take a second to think, and feel your heart nearly stop. "…That wouldn't be an erogenous zone for you, would it?"

Aleya nods jerkily, refusing to make eye contact with you.

The first thing you feel is shock, followed closely by horror and embarrassment. "I'm so, so sorry. I had no idea."

She shakes her head, still silent.

Then you pause. The clothing she wears. Could that possibly be…and if so, did you want…?

You take a deep, shaky breath.

"Maybe I should let you in on a human secret," you say quietly, unable to believe the very words coming out of your mouth. "Different humans may have different erogenous zones, but a common one is the neck. Specifically, if one were to kiss and bite there…" Shrugging off your lab coat and letting it fall to the ground, you tilt your head away from her. Uncertainty practically radiates off Aleya, but slowly, slowly, she leans in and presses her lips to your neck. You sigh contentedly, tension easing out of your body and hers. The wild curls in her hair start to calm, flowing into waves down her back as she backs away and looks up at you.

Placing one hand on her shoulder, you lightly smooth your fingers over her skin, and she smiles a little, pink fading out of her freckles. Emboldened, you lift your other hand as well.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to do," you murmur, caressing her shoulders, fingers dancing over sparkling purple freckles.

Aleya moans, leaning into your touch. "I-I would like to do this with you. It just feels different…I am not used to such physical expressions. Astra intercourse is more like a melding of minds rather than bodies, and I'd like to share that with you…"

You're not entirely sure what she means, but you nod as she draws closer, wrapping both sets of arms around you, her hair flowing over your shoulders. Locks of her hair caress your cheeks, sliding down over your collarbone, sparking something new deep in your chest. You gasp, feeling this unusual yet intimate warmth within you, realizing that it's her pleasure you're feeling. The more your fingers move over her back, the more the warmth grows.

"Oh, wow," is all you can say.

Aleya giggles. "I think it's easier to tell when you feel good, like so, perhaps…" Leaning forward, she pulls up your shirt and slips her fingers under your bra, cupping your chest. Her fingertips tease over your nipples and you grin, simply tugging your clothing off to allow better access. She just stares at your chest for a moment, eyes wider than usual, before reaching to pinch your nipples. Biting your lip, you discard the rest of your clothes and wait for her to do the same.

Aleya doesn't have much by way of a chest, but her belly protrudes, matching her chubby arms and thick thighs. The star freckles are scattered at random across her skin, some looking like complete connected constellations, some just clusters of stars, all gorgeous.

Clothes finally off, you press her against the headboard and lean forward, giving her plenty of time to turn away. She reaches forward to meet you, kissing you awkwardly. You smile against her lips, guiding her, teaching her how to move her lips, how to avoid clinking teeth. She's a fast learner, because of course she is, and before long you're melting into her kiss, letting out little moans as she holds you close.

It's intoxicating, the way her pleasure matches yours. Her tongue tastes like raspberries, of all things.

Slowly, you slide your hand down her chest, down her belly rolls, finding your goal between her legs. Seems her anatomy is similar to yours, after all. She's already slick, her wetness sucking your fingers in. Aleya trembles, gripping your shoulders and crying out. Some of her freckles turn pink as she presses her lips together.

"God, you're cute." Running your other hand over her shoulders, you thrust your fingers in and out of her heat, craving that sound again. "Don't hold back, I want to hear you."

Looking like she wants to keep quiet, Aleya actually bites her lip. You lightly scratch down her back in retaliation, finally making her shout again. She arches her whole body into yours, moaning with abandon as you add a second and third finger inside her. Your thumb slides up to the top of her seam only to find that she doesn't have a clitoris, but it doesn't matter.

The glowing feelings in your chest swell, threatening to burst.

Aleya gazes up at you through fluttering eyelids, pushing her hips against your hand, silently begging you not to stop. And who are you to deny her release? To deny her anything, really?

You press your lips to her ear, the subtly tart scent of her hair wafting over you, curls tickling your cheek. "You're close, aren't you?" Voice low, almost raspy, just above a whisper yet still enticing. "I can feel it…come for me, Aleya…"

Clutching at you like a lifeline, arching her back, she cries out, walls fluttering around your fingers. Gently you pull your fingers out of that tight heat, whispering soothing words to her as she comes down from the high. The warmth cools down slightly, not fully extinguished just yet.

Aleya pants, staring at you in dazed awe. Impulsively, you bring your still soaking fingers to your lips, tasting raspberry alcohol.

"You taste amazing." You mean it, too.

Narrowing her eyes, she suddenly flips the two of you over, pulling you down to rest on your pillows and straddling your waist.

"Humans can also feel that, right? That release?"

"We call it an orgasm, and yes."

Aleya's grin is devilish. "Then we shall have one together."

One pair of hands plays over your breasts, fondling your nipples, while the other set slides down to pet your thighs. Moving back, she fits herself between your legs and spreads your thighs, looking down to your dripping pussy. You'd almost forgotten your own arousal in favor of hers, but now that all the attention was on it…you squirm, fidgeting under her intense gaze.

"So are you just gonna stare or do you want to try something?" you ask weakly.

"Even now, you still make demands," she giggles. Her upper pair of hands absentmindedly pinches your nipples while she thinks. "This is different. What's this…?"

Aleya circles your clit with one finger, and you moan at the slight friction. "Th-that's called a clitoris, um, it's very sensitive, so please…"

She gently strokes your clit with her thumb, slipping other fingers inside you in the same way you had done for her. Encouraging her with little gasps and moans, you hold onto her upper hands still resting on her breasts.

Silently she pulls her fingers out and other hands away, leaning back and readjusting her legs. Before you can ask what she's doing, she pushes your hips apart a little more, sliding one leg underneath yours and swinging the other leg over your hip.

You freeze, raising your eyebrows. "Huh? Where'd you learn how to do this?"

"Just thought it'd feel nice, and it looks like I'm right, yes?" She pushes her hips against yours, rolling them together. You can't help but agree with a breathy moan, head falling back against the pillows as you clutch fistfuls of the bedsheets.

Her body feels different from yet so similar to a human's, soft skin grinding against yours, long hair cascading down over you, strands caressing your sides. One thick strand pulls your leg up, hooking it over her shoulder.

"H-how are you so good at this?" you groan, closing your eyes, hearing a soft chuckle as the only response.

Aleya pauses her hip movements, making you open your eyes, pout already forming on your lips. She reaches for you with both sets of hands, pulling you up to sit in her lap with your legs still intertwined, lower set of hands sliding down to pull your hips forward to meet hers once more.

"God, yes." Wrapping your hands around her shoulders, you slowly drag your hands down her back, watching as her back arches and her lips part in a silent cry. You pull her closer, closer, hoping to taste raspberries again.

From the warmth growing in your chest and the way Aleya just pants into your open mouth, you can tell she's close, and so are you.

"Together," she gasps, pushing one hand down between your bodies. Her fingers press down on your clit, rubbing quick circles. Bucking your hips, you come undone with a shout, feeling the warmth in your chest swell and burst. All four of Aleya's hands dig into your back as she pulls you close, body trembling, hazy gaze meeting yours.

As one, your bodies crash down onto the bedsheets, limbs and hair tangling. Slowly Aleya shifts you both to face each other, a strand of her hair stroking your cheek as the feeling in your chest fades away, leaving comforting contentment in its wake.

After a moment of watching your face, she says, "Now I wish I had confessed sooner."

Eyebrows shooting up into your hairline, you laugh, whole body shaking. "To be fair, it's not just your fault," you say between giggles. "I should've noticed that something was off. It's fine now, right?"

She smiles softly, star freckles going back to regular white. "Yes, it is."

You bite your lip before adding, "I have to say, now I think there's a certain kind of drink I want to have more often. I should fix myself a raspberry cocktail sometime."

"What does that mean?" Aleya merely blinks at you, sky blue eyes narrowing as you start laughing all over again.

[thisbeatchachinglikemoney]

Burn It

Part 3 of the Boys with Luv series

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Summary: Yoongi and Y/N are getting used to living together and being each others soulmates. Y/N helps Yoongi get through him being kicked out of the BTS dorm, and Yoongi helps Y/N tackle her trauma from the past. When the pair go out shopping, they bump into some people they really don’t want to meet...

Warnings: Angst, mentions of self-harm and abuse, Taehyung being a dick to Yoongi.

Tags: @calling-dips-on-j-hope, @fic-recs-by-moon​, @luvtaeha, @aretha170, @xicanacorpse, @kookieebangtan, @fangirl125reader, @seoul9711, @channiespup, @lindsayjoy444​​ ​​​​​​

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 

Y/N POV:

Yoongi looked upset. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen, a bag hanging off his shoulder while he leant against the door jamb, and his face was full of thoughts. He looked slightly broken. I slowly walked over to him. 

“Are you okay?” I asked, making him look at me. He shook his head before dropping his bag to the floor. “What happened?” I asked. I knew he had to go back to the studio, so something must have happened there.

“They kicked me out of the dorm.” He said, his voice emotionless. “I thought that after everything, they would understand this. That they would understand you.” Ah, so it was to do with me. He must have told them what happened, but I was confused as to why it would affect them so much, unless...

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked carefully.

“I don’t know...” He said, sighing slightly. This was a Yoongi thing - he would sometimes hide his emotions from everyone.

“If you’re upset, you need to talk about it. You can trust me. I have literally no one to tell about anything you say.” I said, reaching out and stroking his arm. He didn’t flinch away from my touch, which was unusual for me. “I’ll make you a deal. If you tell me about why you’re upset, I’ll tell you why I was in the park. Okay?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Okay.” Yoongi nodded, his voice slightly husky. He took hold of my hand and led me to the living room where he sat down on the sofa and pulled me down next to him, making me yelp in surprise. “Sorry.” He said, fiddling with his thumbs. “So, erm, me and the rest of the members are all in a relationship together.” He began. “It started with me and Taehyung, and the others joined one by one. Today, when I went back, I told Tae about me finding you, and he got angry. He said I should reject you.” He looked at me. I blinked at him, scared. Was he going to reject me as his soulmate? Did he want to put me through that pain? “But I don’t ever want to do that to you. I can’t do that to you. When I said that to Tae, he got really annoyed and left the building. I then told everyone else and-” His voice hitched in his throat as a tear rolled down his cheek. “And Namjoon kicked me out of the dorm until I figured out who I wanted to be with.”

“Yoongi, that’s awful!” I gasped. How could they treat him like that? Yoongi worked so hard in that group. He deserved better than this. And it’s not his fault that he found his soulmate. They just needed to come around to the idea. It was then I got my idea. “Don’t you have a meet and greet this weekend?” I asked.

“Yeah, but it’s not going to go well. They all don’t want me to be around them!” Yoongi exclaimed.

“Yeah, but, if I go to the meet and greet, and they all meet me, and if they like me then maybe you don’t have to necessarily break up with them. Maybe I could just slot in?” I suggested. It was the best thing to do. No one got rejected, and no one got their heart broken. Best case scenario. 

“That’s actually not a bad plan.” Yoongi said looking at me. His eyes flicked down to my lips as we continued to stare at each other, the tension building between us. He cleared his throat. “So, why were you in the park last night?”

“Ahh.” I smiled, knowing that this was coming. “I had to get away from my ex.” I said. “He wasn’t the nicest. He used to hit me and assault me verbally and physically.”

“Y/N...” Yoongi said, rubbing my arm.

“He took away everything I owned. He took my house, sold my car, pushed all my friends away. The only person I was allowed contact with was my mother, and that was always supervised. He controlled me.”

“That’s horrible. No one should ever have to go through that. I’ll protect you, I promise. If I have to, I will hire a bodyguard for you. Anything to keep you safe.” He promised. I was surprised. We had only just met, but he wants to look after me. That was something new.

“Thank you Yoongi.” I said softly. He smiled at me and stroked my cheek with his thumb. “For everything, seriously.”

“You’re my soulmate, Y/N, what did you expect me to do?” He looked me in the eye. My lips parted in surprise as we held eye contact. He leaned forward slightly and our lips connected. His were soft and pillowy, and he was a good kisser. I knew mine were quite rough and chapped - I didn’t have a lip balm on me, so maybe he would let me borrow one of his, or we could go shopping. My heart rate sped up as the kiss continued. One of my idols was kissing me. I would have never imagined it. We pulled away slowly. 

“Wow.” I gasped, reaching up and touching my lips. Yoongi laughed and pulled me close to him.

“Cute.” He murmured, stroking my arm. 

That night Yoongi was making dinner while I tidied up a bit. We had ended up making cookies to cheer him up, which might have had a bit of a food fight, and then some making out in the middle. I had a quick shower, washing out all the flour and egg from my hair, before changing into a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. I had to cover my cuts on my wrists. I saw them in the shower and they were very noticeable; the red stood out starkly against my skin.

I walked out of my room, tying my hair up in a bun. My nose was instantly filled with the smell of frying pork and black bean sauce. He was making jjangmyeon. I made my way into the kitchen and sat on the counter.

“It smells nice.” I said as Yoongi stirred the sauce a bit more. He hummed as he put the water to boil for the noodles. “Can I help with something?” I asked.

He lifted the lid of the wok and took a bit of the sauce on a spoon. “Taste please.” He held it up to my mouth. I ate the sauce. It tasted really good. Not too salty, the right amount of water.

“Mmmm!” I moaned in delight, making him look at me in shock and blush. I giggled at his reaction. “Sorry.” I covered my face in embarrassment. “You’re a good cook, Yoongi.”

He smiled and turned back to the stove, stirring the sauce around some more to make sure it doesn’t burn. “Thank you.” He said, reaching over to turn off the heat under the pans. His hand brushed my thigh, making me shiver slightly. His hands were huge and veiny. “Can you pass me two bowls?” I hopped off the counter and looked around, unsure of where to get them from. “Oh, um, middle shelf on the right hand cupboard.” He said, pointing. I nodded and leaned up, grabbing hold of the bowls, standing on my tiptoes.

“Here you go.” I said, handing him the bowls. “Do you want chopsticks as well?” I asked. He nodded. Now these I knew where they were. He had them in a fancy clear container on top of the counter. He nodded and I grabbed two pairs, handing them to him.

“Thank you, jagiya.” He said, making me freeze. No one had ever called me that before. “Oh, sorry, I-”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just no one has ever called me that before.” I replied, reassuring him. 

He set down his serving spoon. “Seriously?” He asked. I nodded.

“Abusive ex, remember?” I smiled slightly. 

“Oh yeah, sorry.” He said. “Okay, do you want to eat at the table or shall we watch a movie while eating?” He suggested.

“Watch a movie?” I requested, making him nod. 

“Grab your food then, jagiya.” I blushed, making him chuckle. “That’s your nickname now. That, and princess, and baby, and baby girl.” He began listing off more, making me giggle.

“So what do I call you?” I asked as he carried our bowls in to the living room. He placed them down on the glass surface of the coffee table. He grabbed two of the decorative pillows from the couch and placed them on the floor. I sat on one and he sat on the other.

“Hmm, well.” He smirked staring at me. “I am older than you, so oppa would be the most logical choice. But if you want other options then whatever you want.” He shrugged. 

“Noted, oppa.” I said, looking sideways at him before picking up my chopsticks and stirring around the noodles and sauce to combine them before taking a bite. “God, Yoongi, this is so good!” I sighed loving the taste of the sauce combined with the noodles and the pork. 

“Thank you.” Yoongi blushed slightly. “I used to make it all the time for the boys - it’s my mother’s recipe.” His face fell slightly as he said this, making me bite my lip in sympathy as I thought of what to say to him.

“It will all work out, I promise.” I reassured him, rubbing his arm gently. He leaned slightly into the gesture as he took another mouthful of noodles.

“But in the meantime...” He pulled out his phone and held it to take a selca with me. “Let’s let ARMY know about you and me. Smile, jagiya.” I smiled at the phone as he snapped the picture before posting it on Weverse. My phone buzzed with the notification, making him chuckle. “Come on, let’s watch a movie.”

Yoongi POV:

I hummed as I stretched, waking myself up. I looked over to the other side of my bed and saw Y/N curled up by the edge of the bed. That must have been due to her PTSD over her past relationship. I shuffled under the blankets as I turned around so I was facing her before reaching out a hand and shaking her slightly.

“Y/N, princess.” I said, my voice husky from sleep. She whined and tried to move away from me. “Baby, come on you need to get up. We’re going shopping today.” We had decided that while she did have clothes, they were all worse for wear, so I was going to treat my princess to a new wardrobe. I was going to the usual shopping centre that the boys and I would go to. We normally had it to ourselves on Fridays so we could buy anything we needed.

“Can we get mochi?” She asked, her eyes still closed. There was a piece of hair flung across her face. 

“Of course. Are you feeling better after last night?” I asked. She had fallen asleep in the guest bedroom, but she had had a nightmare about her ex, resulting in her screaming in her sleep, so I told her she could sleep with me so she would feel calm and safe. “Did you manage to sleep?”

She opened her eyes, squinting slightly at the light that came through the gap in the curtains. Even with her hair a mess and no make up on, she was still beautiful. “Yeah. I had no nightmares at all while I was in here.” She nodded. “And I feel better.” She rolled over to face me so she was on her side rather than her back. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome jagi.” I said, stroking her cheek. “If you go shower and get dressed, I’ll start breakfast?” I suggested.

“Pancake?” She asked, smiling gently. “And dalgona coffee?”

“Of course.” I nodded

“Thank you, Yoonie.” She sat up and stretched, her sleeves slipping down her arms slightly. I caught sight of some scars, which gave me a slight bad feeling. 

“Baby, can I see your wrists?” I asked carefully, knowing that if it was what I thought it was, she would become very defensive about it. She looked pensive, her lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed. 

“Yoongi, I-” She said as I reached out and carefully pushed up her sleeves.

“Baby...” I saw her wrists were littered with red lines, some more fresh than others. 

“I haven’t since I’ve been here, I swear.” She said. “It was a coping mechanism with him.” I ran my thumb gently over her wrists, feeling the raised lines on her skin. “Yoongi, I promise, I haven’t since I’ve been here.”

“I believe you baby, but why?” I asked. “What made you stop?” The look on her face broke my heart. She looked like she had been through so much. She sniffed and took a shaky breath.

“He told me to do it. That I deserved it.” She said, tears forming in her eyes. “He said that if I continued to do it deeper and deeper than maybe I might end it all and what a perfect world that would be.”

My heart stopped. How could anyone do this to her? I could feel myself getting angrier and angrier at this ex, but I didn’t want to let it show. It would make it even worse for her, and that was something we did not want to happen. I kissed her wrist gently.

“I stopped because of you. You got me out of that situation and you make me feel safe.” She said. “If I’m being honest, I wasn’t sure how you would take it, I mean one of BTS’s big things are loving yourself and clearly I don’t. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Princess you could never ever disappoint me. You are so strong and resilient and you have become such a beautiful person, both inside and out.” I said, pulling her in for a hug. “Now,” I leaned forward and pecked her lips. “We are going to have a day full of fun, starting with your pancakes and dalgona coffee. Sound good?” She nodded and smiled as I wiped away her tears, her Y/E/C shining. 

She disappeared into the bathroom as I slid out of bed and made my way into the kitchen. I moved my shoulder around; it was slightly stiff and painful this morning, but nothing I couldn’t manage.

I began to make everything. While the pancakes were frying, I got started on the coffee. Y/N appeared in the doorway, her Y/H/L hair dripping on the exposed skin from her shirt. I smiled when I realised that it was my shirt. It reached mid thigh on her, making me stare at her bare legs and exposed collarbones.

She blushed when she saw me staring. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what to wear so I grabbed the first thing I saw.”

“It’s fine, jagiya.” I said. “You look better in it than me.” She giggled and walked over to me. I wrapped my arms around her waist and kissed her lips gently. She hummed gently, tucking her head under my chin. 

“Yoonie oppa.” She said quietly. I hummed in response. “I think the pancakes are burning.” She giggled, making me jump away from her and take them off the heat. They were a slightly darker brown than usual, but still edible. “That one can be yours.” She giggled, making me scowl at her playfully. “How about I do the coffee and you try not to burn the next pancake.”

“Sounds like a deal, princess.” I agreed, handing her the small whisk so she could do the coffee. She thanked me and began to whisk the coffee as I poured the remaining mixture into the pan. 

“Yoon, how does this taste?” She held up a spoon with some of the whipped coffee on it. I tasted it. The perfect amount of coffee. “Good?”

“Amazing.” I replied before turning back to flip the pancake. It was a perfect golden brown. “Pick what toppings you want. I’ll just have sugar and lemon.” I said, making her turn to the fridge and pull out some chocolate sauce and strawberries. 

I plated the pancake and carried it to the island in the middle of the kitchen. She sat down, holding both cups of coffee. She pushed mine over to me before she started to eat.

“So where do you want to go today?” I asked. “I’m buying you a new phone and changing your number so that ex of yours can’t contact you.”

“Yoongi, you don’t have to-” She started but I interrupted her.

“No, I want you to be safe.” I said. “Anyway, do you want new clothes, new shoes? What?”

“I think I need new everything to be honest.” She admitted. “All my clothes are beginning to fall apart.”

“Okay, we’ll buy you some new outfits today, but we can order you more if you need.” I said, finishing up my pancake. “Do you want makeup?”

“I need makeup.” She said, taking a bite of a strawberry. 

“No you don’t.” I said. “But if you want it then we’ll buy you some of the best.”

“Yoongi, you don’t have to spend your money on me. I’ll pay you back.” She said.

“No, you won’t. What’s mine is yours.” I said firmly. “Now finish up and get that ass of yours ready to go.”

---------------

We had been at the mall for a few hours now. Y/N was happily snacking on some mochi as we made our way to the next store - Victoria’s Secret.

“Hi, welcome to the store, how can I help you today?” A red-haired woman asked. Y/N turned to me and handed me her mochi. 

“Can you wait out here please? I’m not entirely comfortable with... you know...” She trailed off, playing with her fingers.

“Of course, baby. I’ll wait here, okay? Mind if I have some of these?” I asked as the sales assistant began to lead her away.

“Go for it!” She yelled over her shoulder as the assistant began showing her panties and bras. I began looking through, picking ones mentally that I liked. There was a light pink set that I loved. A pang of sadness shot through me when I realised I was picking them out for Taehyung. I put the set back and leaned against a wall, waiting for her while I scrolled through my phone. 

I jumped when I heard footsteps outside the shop. It was a Friday so the shopping centre was closed to the general public, so it wasn’t like there would be randomers walking around. My heart rate picked up. What if it was a sasaeng? I heard excited chatter and a squeal of happiness which I recognised instantly. Tae. They must have gone shopping now. There was nowhere for me to go as there was only one exit and entrance, and it wasn’t like I could blend in with the crowd.

My heart broke slightly when I heard their laughs and shouts of happiness. Nice to know they were having fun without me. I busied myself with my phone before looking over to the changing rooms. I heard Y/N gasp happily, making me smile. The doorbell to the shop rang, indicating someone had just entered the shop. Why now? I didn’t want to have this confrontation here. Not in front of Y/N.

I smiled slightly as I saw Taehyung move from rack to rack, picking up items that caught his eye and showing them to Hoseok and Namjoon, who had come in with him. Taehyung looked up and we locked eyes. His smile dropped from his face, being replaced with a scowl. 

I looked back to my phone, making it a point that I didn’t want to talk to them. I could hear them whispering to each other, their hushed tones being too quiet for me to properly hear them. 

“Hyung, what are you doing here?” Namjoon asked, making his way over to me.

“Y/N needed some new stuff.” I said, not looking at him. “Sorry, I didn’t realise you owned this shop as well.”

“Yoongi, there is no-” Namjoon began.

“No, you’ve said enough Namjoon. You spoke your true feelings.” I said shortly, glancing up at him, looking unimpressed.

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

“But you did. You said your true feelings. I don’t want people to lie to me. You said the truth, no matter who it hurt.” I said.

“Hyung please, I’m sorry.” Namjoon said. “Please just come back to us.”

“No.” I said, finding it harder and harder to keep my voice steady. “You’ve said what you said. It’s clear I’m not welcome, I mean look at them!” I gestured over to Hoseok and Taehyung. “Normally Taehyung would be here, hanging onto me, listening to my every word, demanding kisses and affection, and now look at him. He doesn’t want to come near me!”

“Yoongi, that’s not true. They both love you.” Namjoon argued.

“Yeah, they’re showing it so well.” I said sarcastically. “He is glaring at me. That’s definitely a sign of love. None of this is my fault, Namjoon! I can’t control who my soulmate is or when I meet her!” I knew Y/N would most likely be able to hear me now, but I silently prayed that she couldn’t.

“TaeTae, Hobi, come here.” Namjoon said, gesturing them over. Taehyung looked reluctant. 

“Why are you here?” Taehyung asked, his voice angry.

“Y/N needed some new stuff.” I replied.

“I knew she was a money stealing whore.” Taehyung scoffed. “Just reject her! She’s going to steal your money and then reject you!”

“No she’s not. You know what, Kim Taehyung, maybe it’s a good idea that I’m not staying at the dorm anymore. And maybe you should get to know someone before you decide to make a decision for them.” I spat.

“Yoongi!” I heard Y/N call from the changing rooms.

“Yes, baby?” I called back.

“I need your opinion on something!” She shouted back.

“Coming, princess.” I turned back to Namjoon, Hoseok and Taehyung. “Now I’m going to go where I am wanted and needed. I’ll see you for the meet and greet on Saturday.” I left them standing there. “What’s wrong, jagiya?”

“I just needed to get you out of there. You sounded upset.” She said, peeking around the curtain. She glanced over at where the trio was stood, shaking her head as she saw them glaring over at us. “They seem annoyed.”

“They’ll get over it.” I shrugged. “Have you picked some you like?” She nodded. 

“But you can’t see them.” She teased. “But here are the options.” She passed them to me through the curtain. 

“Baby, you’re going to look so pretty.” I said, looking through them. “Do they all fit right, they’re all comfortable?”

“Yesssss.” She said. There was rustling as she got changed. She had decided to wear my sweatshirt over her clothes today, which I loved. She pulled back the curtain, leaning up to peck my lips. “Are they watching?” She whispered against my mouth.

I glanced over. “Yeah.” I whispered back, making her giggle and kiss me again. “Are you sure they’re all comfortable?”

“Yes, Yoongi, I’m sure.” She said, playfully rolling her eyes. “Come on, let’s go.” She took her mochi back from me. “And thanks for holding onto these for me.”

We walked to the cash register, ignoring the burning stares of the trio as we walked away.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Love On-Set (Pt. 01 of 10)

Pairing: Dacre Montgomery X Reader

Word count: 3K

Next part (02) ->

Summary: You knew acting on Stranger Things season 3 would be a challenge, and you also knew, from the start, you'd have to work closely with Dacre Montgomery. But is wasn't a big deal for you, since this is your job and you're determined to act professionally. You had it all figured out, or so you thought, until the moment you were out face to face with Dacre. Then, this job became a lot harder than it was supposed to be, since you can't seem to focus whenever you're around Dacre. And you'll have to be around him a lot until the end of production.

{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

×

First Sight

The minivan stops right before entering the set as the driver speaks with one of the security guards. A huge structure was built around the area, and if it wasn't for the strong lights, you'd be in complete darkness. It's late at night, but yet, there are some journalists and a lot of cameras. They immediately surround the car, trying to see who's inside.

“Vicki, do you think I should go out and talk to them?” You decide to ask her first, because you're not as known as the other actors, and you're not sure if they'd want to talk to you.

“Sure. But don't take long.” She nods, touching the drive's shoulder and telling him to wait.

Taking a deep breath, you push the door open, a smile on your face as the cameras quickly find you. Running a hand through your hair, to make sure it's not messed up, you take in all the microphones and smartphones pointed at your face.

“(Y/N), could you answer some questions?” A short, dark-haired guy asks, a camera flashing.

“It depends on the question, but I'll try my best.” This seems to please them, and you wonder if the others couldn't afford a few minutes.

“Your posted on your Instagram account that you were a Stranger Things fan from season one.” A woman asks. “How was the transition from being a fan to acting on the show?”

“It was fantastic.” The first season of the show was still driving people crazy when you got the call for an audition for the role of Amy Whitehall, for seasons two and three. Vicky, you have no idea how, got in touch with some friends when she heard they were searching of someone with physical traits similar to yours. Thankfully, the audition went well and you got the job. “It's an honor to be part of this masterpiece. The only bad part is that now I have some spoilers.”

“Your character's scene by the end of season two had any interaction with Billy Hargrove, Hawking's bad boy. Does that mean she'll be in any kind of relationship with him?”

For that, you have to think, careful not to say anything that will expose the plot.

People are very interested in Billy, not sure exactly where the character will go from now on, after his introduction on season two. He stole many hearts, for love or hate, dividing opinions. And your character had a short appearance by very end of the last episode, shown in an interaction with him. On her way to the ball, to help Nancy, Billy almost runs her over with his car, after dropping his sister. They had a small dialogue, him asking her to get out of the way and her telling him to look where he was going. Then a pause, a little bit of tension, and that was it.

“I'm not allowed to answer that, but Amy's scene was just an introduction. Her character will be around throughout season three.” Offering another smile, you turn around, giving attention to someone else.

“What will be a new threat? The season finale raised a lot of questions about–”

“Excuse me, excuse me.” Vicky pokes her head out, a hand raised. “I'm sorry, but we have to get going.”

“Aright.” You mumble. “Thank you, guys. Bye.” Politely, you wave at the reporters before going back into the van.

You're soon moving again, leaving the entrance behind and driving in darkness for some minutes before more lights come into your sight until they're all around you. The set was built around a piece of the road, where you already shot earlier this week.

“C'mon, (Y/N). Hair and make-up." Vicky urgers, stepping out of the van with you.

You easily find your way around the set, chatting with people as they do your hair and put the makeup on. There will be a tiny cut above your left eyebrow, and Ron, the guy who always take care of the fake wounds around here, takes only fifteen minutes to get it done. Once you're ready, Vicky guides you to the filming area, and you sit on your chair a few feet away, under one of the many huge tents scattered around the place.

“Hi.” Someone says, and you abruptly look up from your phone, finding your co-star. The only co-star of the day, Dacre. He's already full Billy, with the mullet wig and the leather jacket. “I didn't mean to startle you. Just thought I'd come to say hello before the scene.”

You haven't properly spoken to Dacre. The single scene you made was quick, one of the last, and the set was a mess. So you didn't have the chance to talk, and ever since, you haven't crossed paths with him. But today's scene is all about your characters. Amy's first appearance on season three will have her running from something in the woods, the Mind Flayer, and she crashes her car on Billy's, while he's on the way to meet Mrs. Wheeler. That's it for today, their first meeting.

“Hi.” Smiling back, you shake his hand. “I'm (Y/N).” You decide to remind him.

“I know.” He simply says. “Do you want to go over the lines before the real thing?”

He has such a nice voice, it's impressive. You've watched some of his movies, and he's really good. It's not like you haven't acted before, but nothing so important or famous as Stranger Things. You can't help but be a little nervous. “Sure.” Blocking your phone, you stand up, leaving it on your seat.

“Alright. Let's–”

“(Y/N)! Dacre! It's time, c'mon!” The director calls, cutting you off.

“Guess we'll go straight to the real thing,” Dacre says as you start making your way to where the cars are positioned.

Billy's Camaro and Amy's light green Toyota are placed a few inches apart, the front part already wrecked and a light smoke coming off from under the hood.

“The mechanism will push the cars on each other and the rest you already know.” Your stylist comes to check on you one last time, making sure everything is perfect. When she steps away, you get inside the car.

A few days ago you shot Amy's way over here, driving insanely fast, running from the shadows creeping. Most of the scenes where Amy will be alone were already made since there weren't many. She will be around the others a lot, as the events are unrevealed.

Once you're in the car, you take your time to get into character, ignoring the orders being yelled outside. The lights are turned off, and the road before you is almost completely dark.

“Let's get it started, everyone!” The director shouts. “Action!”

At his command, the car jerks forward.

Letting your head fall on the wheel, you breathe fast, wide eyes acknowledging what just happened, the crash, the smoke, the other car that collided with yours. Looking over your shoulder, you imagine, you picture it coming, moving through the threes, growing closer.

“What the hell!” The voice yells as you try to make your car start again, uselessly. “You could've killed me!”

“Damn it.” Cursing under your breath, overcome by terror, you step out of the car, running around it and into the other one, which is still working, opening the passenger door and rushing inside.

“What do you think you're doing? Get the hell out of my car!” Dacre shouts at your face, in Billy's voice, a little deeper.

“There's something in the woods!” You yell, looking through the rear windshield. “It's coming!”

“Are you crazy or something?! You almost wrecked my car!” As he speaks, you imagine it once again, the tentacles coming from the sky, taking over the road behind you.

Then you grab his arm, squeezing the muscle underneath the jacket. He's in the middle of a sentence when he looks back too, immediately going silent as he's eyes meet the same inexistent thing you're seeing.

“What the–”

“Drive!” You burst out, and the car starts moving.

“Cut!” The director's voice reaches both of you and Dacre hits the brakes.

Relaxing, you let go of his arm.

“That was great, but I want another take. Ryan, turn those lights down.”

The scene is repeated three more times, with different lighting until they finally decide it's perfect. Then the whole set starts moving to the next scene, which is the sequence to what just played out. It'll be shot in a street Northeast from the road, and since it'll play out from the Camaro, you're told to stay in the car as Dacre drives there, following the other cars.

“You did well back there,” Dacre says as you move, taking a different turn from the other cars to reach your mark. The street has a few small houses on one side, which will have their lights on and some people moving inside and on their balconies, and tall threes on the other.

“You too. Hope I didn't hurt your arm, but Amy was terrified.” Shrugging your shoulders, you smile to hear his giggle.

“I noticed.” He says. “But my arm will survive.”

Looking his way, you're able to have a good look at him now. It's a little dark, but you can take in his features. Dacre makes the mullet look good, which is impressive since you absolutely hate the hairstyle. But not on him. Clearing your throat, you look away. “Make sure it will. You'll need it.”

Dacre stops by the mark, everyone apparently already on their positions. “Things are about to get tense for Billy and Amy now.”

“First fight.” You say, taking a look at your outfit to make sure nothing is out of place. “Enemies to lovers is quite a good arch.”

“I like it too.”

“(Y/N). Dacre. Are you ready?” The director asks and both of you give him a thumbs up, hands off the window. The crew with the microphones and cameras are already positioned, ready for the scene. “Alright then. Ready... Action!”

Dacre moves the car forward, just enough to fake it as he hits the breaks. “What was that?” Billy asks, annoyed for some reason Amy wouldn't know.

“I don't know.” With a hand on your hair, shaking a little, you breathe fast, terrified. “Just take me home.”

“Now I gotta drive you home too?”

“Screw you.” The sudden outburst and the disgust in his voice makes you bolt out of the car, keeping in mind not to look at the cameras following you.

“Are you going to walk?” Billy yells, but you don't look back, walking fast, crossing your arms. “Wait.”

“Screw. You.”

“Don't be an idiot.” You roll your eyes when you notice he's coming closer. Dacre grabs your arm, forcing you to turn around. “Are you really going to walk home with that... Thing out there?”

You're confused at his change of moods, pushing your arm away. “Does it look like I have a choice? You just saw that–” You gesture at the threes on the other side of the road. “–and you still couldn't bring yourself to drive a lady home. You're such a gentleman.” Raising your voice, you put the same tone of disgust in your voice that you heard in his. The cameras move a little closer, and you know why. That's when the tension starts, when Amy stands up to Billy. Stepping forward, lifting your head to try and look him in the eye, you put a single finger in his chest. “You're far worse than what people say you are.” You don't get why his eyes make you nervous. Maybe this whole thing is more than you're used to, too big of a production for you after a few years away from the cameras. As much as Dacre's face being so close makes you feel funny, you gotta keep it cool, don't let it show. You're scared, terrified of a monster in the woods.

“Cut the bullshit and let's go.” He takes your arm again, but you refuse to follow him, standing your ground.

“Let go!” You struggle a bit on his grip, noticing how you actually need to act as if it's tighter than it really is. When he turns to face you again, as you struggle, his face comes close again, his eyes filled with Billy's annoyance.

“Get your butt–” Exactly in time, a crack reaches your ears, and both you and Dacre look at the woods with wide eyes, your breaths caught in your throats, unsure of what made that noise, but not excited to find out. “Let's get out of here.”

“Yeah.” You mumble, heading back into the car.

“And cut!” The director yells as soon as you close the door shut. “That was good, but I want another take. I want the same tension you both built on season 2, only now it's stronger, you're face to face. And Dacre, work this out because people need to be convinced Billy likes someone for something else than just fool around.”

You both nod, repeating the same thumbs-up gesture. Taking a deep breath you wait for the sign and starts moving, doing pretty much the same until you're both out of the car, but this time, when Dacre pulls your arm, you act as if the pull was stronger then it actually was, letting yourself collide against his chest before stepping away. “Are you really going to walk home with that... Thing out there?”

“Does it look like I have a choice? You just saw that and you still couldn't bring yourself to drive a lady home. You're such a gentleman.” Instead of just putting a finger on his chest, you push him away with both hands, not keeping the normal distance as doing so, and letting your eyes fall on his unbuttoned shirt for a couple of seconds before raising your them again. You feel the heat on your cheeks, and you know you're blushing. Checking him out was not the intention.

Dacre's eyes meet yours, and for a second they soften before the usual annoyance comes back. You wonder if he's trying to say something, give you a hint about something he wants to do, but you have no idea what it might be. “Cut the bullshit and let's go, princess.” The weight on the last word is different, lower, meant as in insult, an irony.

“Let go!” You whisper-yell, trying to pull away, but you stop when Dacre holds the other arm, trying to drag you to the car. His stare is intense, and the cameras move a little, coming closer, and you know they're focusing on your faces. “Let go.” You repeat, much lower this time, trying to put some distance between you and him, since your bodies are way too close already.

“Get your butt–” The crack again, the stare at the woods, and the sudden change of moods. Run now, fight later. “Let's get the hell out of here.”

Nodding in agreement, you give your arms one last push, and Drace's eyes come back to you as if remembering he was still holding you, finally releasing his grip. You both run to the car and the scene is over.

Despite saying it was perfect, the director wanted two more takes. He wants proximity, touching, anger mixed with a sudden, recently discovered passion from an unexpected connection at first sight. You're happy to hear that you did achieve that, not sure if it came from your skills or the funny feeling you had in your stomach through the scene. It's weird to have someone you basically just met so close, only inches away.

When it's all done, you take off the outfit and put your clothes back on after washing the make-up away. Then you wait for Vicky, leaning against the minivan, scrolling through your Instagram feed.

“Hi again.” You see Dacre approaching through the corner of your eyes, raising your head to look at him. “Have you checked in at the hotel yet?”

“Yes, just before coming here.” All the actors are staying at the same hotel, just so it's easier to gather everyone around when needed, and be sure of the time it gets for them to get on set.

“I came in my car. I can give you a ride there if you like.” As he speaks, you see Vicky coming, talking with the director. Which you still don't know the name yet.

“I came with Vicky, my agent.” Gesturing at her, you feel embarrassed to decline, and you hope Vicky will say something to help you out as she usually does. “Right, Vi?”

“Oh, no.” Waving her hand in a fast motion, she puts a lock of her blond hair behind her ear. “Remember what I told you? Make connections, friends. Don't stick with me during the whole production.” She reaches out her hand and Dacre politely shakes it. “I'm Victoria Klein. (Y/N)'s agent and her mother's oldest friend.”

“Dacre Montgomery.” He simply says.

“You may take her to the hotel. I have some things to do and she needs to rest. Long day tomorrow.”

You just watch as Vicky sets you up as if you're not even there to make your own call. But you're too shy to say anything else, to still refuse Dacre's kindness. “Ok then. See you, Vicky.”

“Have a good night.” She says after giving you a quick hug.

Silently, you follow Dacre through the set to the parking lot. His car is among several different trucks, some of them already leaving. “Nice car.” You tell him as you get into the passenger seat.

“It's rented.” Dacre turns the ignition and the car comes to life. “I can't be without a car. What if I need to go somewhere?”

“Fair enough.”

He drives through the huge set and you fall into a comfortable silence, not sure of that to say. It would help if you could see some kind of landscape or anything at all through the window. Then you wouldn't look like an idiot with eyes glued at nothing but darkness.

“Did you stop to speak to the journalists?” Dacre asks when you reach the exit, waving at one of the guards.

“Yes. You?”

“Yeah. What did they ask?”

“Spoilers.” Shrugging your shoulders, you give him a glance, and he does the same. “About Amy's and Billy's relationship. What can be expected after their meeting in the season finale.”

A low giggle escapes his lips. “Wait until they know.”

“But they will have to wait until next year.”

“You did well back there. You actually blushed. How did you do that?” He stops at the red light, and you feel when he looks at you. Running a hand through your hair, you meet his eyes.

You weren't trying to blush. You just did. “I'm a very good actress.” Giving him a sassy smirk, you see when his lips break into a smile. It's different from Billy's smile, he doesn't act like he's trying to hide some unknown meaning behind it.

“You sure are.” The red light turns green and you start moving again. “Uhm... There will be a kissing scene, you know.” Oh. The kissing scene. You read through it, of course, you just didn't give much thought about it. “Have you ever done a kissing scene?”

“No.” The answer is quick, you don't have to think much. “In my long list of three movies, in two of them my character didn't have any romantic interests and in the other one it was platonic.” Dacre had done it, you remember from some movie, not sure which one. Your mother insisted on watching some of his movies, just so you'd ‘get to know your co-star skills’ before actually having to work with him. But it's different. It's completely different watching a character on screen and then meeting the person behind it.

“Oh, ok. I hope I won't make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Don't worry about that.” You're a professional, and that's your job. It's just a kiss anyways, and the scene won't be shot any time soon. You'll have time to get used to the idea.

“I just think that since our characters arch is connected from now on, it would be good to get to know each other. It helps a lot when the co-stars are somehow friends.”

“Of course.” He has way more experience in this than you, so whatever he says, you agree.

When you get to the hotel, Dacre leaves his car on the underground parking lot, and, despite having his room key, he insists on accompanying you to the reception to get your card. Once you're in the elevator, you rest your back against the mirror, watching the numbers as they light up.

“We should exchange numbers,” Dacre says, turning to look at you. “In case some of us need to go through the lines or work on something.” He shrugs his shoulders, the light fabric of his white shirt moving. “It's a thing among us. You'll be invited to a lot of parties like that.”

“Sure.” Taking your phone off your pocket you unlock it and hand it over to him as he does the same. Quickly, you type your number and save if on his contacts list.

“That's my stop.” He says when you reach the 14th floor. “See you tomorrow.”

“Good night.” You mumble, waving at him as the elevator door closes again.

The first thing you do when you get to your room is kick off your shoes, already undressing to hit the shower before throwing yourself on bed. It's very late and you won't have many hours of sleep. You're halfway to the bathroom when you take your phone to put on some music. But you don't recognize the object in your hand. After a moment of confusion, you realize it's Dacre's phone.

“What now?” Stopping on your tracks, you start making the way back and gathering the clothes you left on the floor, putting them on again. Since you don't know the number of his room and knocking from door to door is ridiculous, you decide to call reception and just ask. But on your way to the landline they have near the couch, Dacre's phone starts ringing. You were wondering who would it be when you read your own name on the screen.

“Oh, hi.” You're quick to pick up. “I guess you have my phone.”

“Yeah, I got lucky it didn't lock, or else I'd have to call reception asking for your room.” His voice gets a lot darker through the phone. “Would you tell me which one is it? I'm already heading to your floor.”

“1703.” Already making your way to the door, you hear the soft beep of the elevator's doors opening.

“I'm almost there.” He's still speaking when he turns the corner, getting into your sight. You hang up, a shy smile on your face. “Sorry about that.” He hands you over your phone and you give him back his.

“It's alright. We're both tired.” You expect him to just say good night and leave, but he doesn't, shifting his weight from one leg to another.

“Have you met the others yet? Natalia, Joe, Millie...?”

“No, not yet.” You've heard they are very close, and you're the new girl in set. Saying you're nervous doesn't get anywhere close.

“I'm your only friend so far then.” Dacre states. “I'll break the ice with the others, don't worry.” He smiles again, and now, under the bright lights of the hotel hall, you can see his face perfectly. His blue eyes, a lot kinder then they were earlier today when he was Billy.

“Thanks. Guess I'll see you tomorrow then... Pool scenes.”

“Pool scenes.” He repeats. “I'll leave you to sleep now. Good night, (Y/N). Again.”

“Good night, Dacre.” Standing by the door, you watch as the walks away, towards the elevators.

You're about to head inside when, just before he turns around the corner, Dacre gives you one last look, a smile coming to his lips when his eyes meet yours.

×

@baker151910 @shinydixon @dreamin-of-dacre @hanoi15 @lickmymelanin @skykittysstuff

[fannishcodex]

2021 Entrapdak Positivity Month: #04

#04 Cleaning

*self-conscious because have seen cute sweet cleaning fanart, and instead i wanted to interpret this completely differently*

A/N: Role Swap AU and Gen Swap AU and Mirrorverse/Moral Swap AU...also just collectively Swap AU at the moment.

Some shortish notes on my Swap AU: Adora is one of many magitech androids (collectively called the She-Ra) that serve their creator, highly advanced and rogue A.I. Light Hope. Adora gets stranded on Etheria and ends up leading the Royal Alliance, a consolidation of royalty and nobles tightening control over the planet. The Alliance dethroned Bright Moon's original monarchy and took over. Hordak is a young soldier training to serve the Royal Alliance and trying to prove himself despite his physical “defect,” until he finds a mysterious magitech sword made by the First Ones. The sword contains a sentient A.I. that goes by Anillis. Since he was little, Hordak has been in the custody of C'yra, shadow sorcerer-general of the Royal Alliance. Since she was little, Princess Entrapta of Dryl has been in the custody of Princesses Perfuma, Mermista, and Frosta. When taken on trips to Bright Moon Castle, Entrapta likes spending time with Hordak, something they have enjoyed since they first met as young children. Hordak and Entrapta are teenagers while Adora, C'yra, Perfuma, Mermista, and Frosta, etc., are adults.

Before things get better, I've been brainstorming things are worse in this AU than they are in canon; like, for example, I’ve been imagining Swap!Royal Alliance worse than Etherian Horde partly because they're already explicitly more in control of Etheria and have a longer history of ruling the planet.

And now I experiment more with clues about events in the AU while writing a character and relationship study under different circumstances in a different world. The events of this may or may not be included in some form in my main swap fic on ao3, but it’s definitely been part of my brainstorming for it.

---

Hordak winced, and Entrapta flinched, shaking hands and the wet cloth they held jerking away from the deep claw marks on his back.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was small. "But I have to clean...this."

"'S'fine," Hordak mumbled, just tired and pained, and Entrapta ached all the more. But she resumed cleaning the bloody wounds that marred her partner, her hands steadying as she went. Entrapta wondered if he would walk away with more scars left behind by his adoptive mother, and her jaw clenched.

Something grazed her ear, and she recoiled without a thought, Hordak asked what's wrong—something was on her head—they were in the woods, and Perfuma could control plants, this was the worst place to be, it didn't matter that her adoptive guardians should've been back at the Alliance headquarters in Bright Moon Castle—

With one hand clutching Hordak's shoulder and the damp cloth pinned against his skin, Entrapta pulled out her shock baton and looked around, breathing harshly. She felt Hordak tense, but he waited, trusting her. Then Entrapta hesitantly calmed, put her baton away, and finally checked her head, finding two dry leaves—one on her shoulder and one with its stem loosely stuck through a little of her tightly shorn hair. She brushed off the foliage (free of magical control), apologized to Hordak and told him it was nothing, everything's okay, they were okay. 

Then she heard Evenstar start beeping in a rapid stream, and she and Hordak quickly glanced at the pale blue, circular robot. But she only stood over the First Ones sword that had been dropped to the ground, beeping at it in what she and likely Hordak realized was amiable, excited chatter. Eventually, the sword beeped back, at a slower, slightly deeper, somehow more elegant-sounding clip. Its green gem had a line of crackling white that moved up and down in jagged peaks as it made sounds, and it seemed to glow brighter.

"Oh, you know binary too—um, Anillis?" Entrapta tried, hoping she got the sword A.I.'s name right. She should focus—these wounds were awful—but she desperately wanted some distraction for her and Hordak. But she could multitask. After quickly scrubbing her freckled cheeks dry—a few panic-stricken tears had slipped out again—Entrapta resumed cleaning Hordak's wounds, and listened for the A.I.'s response.

"So far Evenstar is speaking a form of binary I'm familiar with," Anillis's voice emanated from the sword, switching back to her and Hordak's native tongue, and again Entrapta was fascinated. Anillis sounded very much like Hordak, just older—and of course, he was also an A.I. housed inside a magitech sword, an amazing example of First Ones tech! Of course, that was exciting too. But the specificity of the A.I. sounding like Hordak fascinated her even more. Had the A.I. imprinted on Hordak and developed an approximation of his voice? So many questions.  

"Evenstar," Hordak rasped out, and Entrapta took a breath and tried wringing out the cloth stained with blue blood and dipping it in the river again. 

Resources were scarce after their unplanned escape from the Royal Alliance. She had just ripped off a part of her coat for cleaning Hordak's wounds, and she just had the river to rely on. Fortunately, Anillis had encouraged Hordak to dip him—the sword—oh this could get confusing—to dip the sword in the river beforehand. Hordak's eyes had changed again, but this time they all turned green, no trace of red was left; the emergence of slit pupils turned a glowing white instead of a deep black; and extra eyes didn't split open on his face. And the sword had hummed with energy again, as if preparing to shoot off the energy blasts she'd just witnessed hours ago—but this time the energy made some of the river's water angrily bubble, boiling it, and Entrapta understood what Anillis had wanted to try. Entrapta had waited for the boiled portion of the river to cool, then dipped her makeshift cloth in the water and began cleaning Hordak's injuries. She hoped it had been enough to clear the water of potential contaminants.

"Evensta—Evie, could you keep watch, please?" Hordak sounded even weaker, and Entrapta checked his forehead with a quick graze of her hand—still slick with sweat. What if the wounds had already been infected during the fight or while they fled on Evie? Then again, Hordak's desperate fight with C'yra had been brutal. Of course it made him sweat. (But could it mean more now?)

The robot gave an affirmative beep for her injured creator. "I can assist Evenstar as well," Anillis added.

"Oh...you—you can?" Hordak said, and from his voice Entrapta could picture his eyes getting glazier. Finally she just tore off another piece of her coat, providing a new piece of cloth to try to clean Hordak's wounds with.

"If we need any mobility, that's all on Evenstar," Anillis dryly said, and Entrapta felt a small stab of guilt over just leaving him-inside-the-sword lying on the grass like that and not even propped up against a tree, but Hordak had just finally collapsed and Entrapta had only thought of helping him up—Entrapta took a breath. She needed to calm down. Anillis showed zero problem with this, he must've understood; only she was starting to fret over this. There was no time for that, Hordak needed her more.

"But I can help her with surveillance at least," the sword A.I. continued. "My sensors should be enough for that." 

After that, with two A.I. on guard, and Entrapta focused on Hordak's wounds, all went quiet in the Whispering Woods. Finally Entrapta shredded her whole jacket for cleaning wounds and then makeshift bandaging wrapped tight around Hordak's torso. She tended to his armor, particularly on his arms. Claw marks had been gouged through the metal there, but they seemed to have held up better than Hordak’s skin and clothes against a magicat sorcerer. Entrapta did what she could, and told herself she would do more once she scrounged up more resources.

Finally, she helped her partner lie down, and joined him, resting beside him. She wanted to curl close to him, but worried about aggravating his wounds. At least she was close enough for him to reach out to her, and for her to get flustered and tell him he shouldn't move, before quieting when his stiff, trembling hand found her cheek and finally relaxed when he touched her; and she relaxed just as much under his talons, gentle with her even while he clearly suffered and had been thoroughly made into a cruelly clawed up scratching post.

Entrapta closed her eyes as his talons threaded through her short hair.

"I wanna grow it out," Entrapta murmured. "Perfuma and the others wouldn't let me, but..."

Her throat thickened at the thought of her own adoptive guardians. Then her eyes burned. "Oh jeez, did I make you run away just so I can finally grow my hair out?"

"'Course not," Hordak simply said. "And I—I did want this too—I did want to leave—and leave with you—"

Her partner took a shuddering breath, and Entrapta shook her head. "Never mind, don't. Just save your strength. We can talk more when you're better."

"Just talk, please," Hordak said, closing his eyes, his hand growing a little more slack so that it slipped away from Entrapta's hair and just rested on her cheek now. She anticipated it sliding off when he finally fell asleep, and planned to catch it and place his hand gently on the ground instead when that time came. "I just...just wanna listen." Hordak's language was usually more precise than this, and the fact that it wasn't pointed to the severity of his pain and exhaustion.

Entrapta gulped down another breath. This was ridiculous, she hadn't suffered awful injuries like Hordak, why did she keep finding it hard to breathe?

"Sure, can do." She tried to smile, but it wobbled.

And then Entrapta struggled for words. This was the worst time for that. When it was just her and Hordak, words were easier, she didn't have to carefully navigate them like she had to with her guardians and other royals and nobles and Alliance members. Why were words failing her now, just when Hordak needed them the most?

"Thank you for coming with me when I asked you to," Entrapta finally murmured, her voice wet. She removed Hordak's hand, so that it would be easier to place her own hand on his bruised cheek. "I know we had talked about it before, sometimes, but we had never really...decided on anything, and..." Entrapta sobbed.

She scrubbed her freckled face dry again, then placed her hand back on Hordak. His eyes remained shut, and his breathing had leveled out somewhat; he seemed completely knocked out now. She would have to repeat this to him later. "You mean the world to me...so, thank you. Thank you for coming with me." 

There was a noise.

Entrapta reached for her baton and placed a quieting hand on Hordak, starting to wake up. Catching her eye, he stilled.

They heard Evenstar revving her laser, until Anillis’s voice broke through, saying, “Wait. Hold your fire, that’s—she’s not an enemy, I know her—”

“Ani dearie?” That sounded like an old woman, and Entrapta began to relax, even as her confusion mounted. She frowned when Hordak started getting up to his elbows, but she helped him rise.

“Anillis,” the sword A.I. corrected, sounding more quietly awed without a trace of irritation. “You’re still here.”

“Of course I am, now wh—” When she came into view of Entrapta and Hordak (now sitting up), the old woman paused, staring at them.

“Oh, Kadroh dearie!” The stranger said, rushing over remarkably fast and briefly reminding Entrapta of a cute little white hedgehog. But when she came a little too close for comfort to a startled Hordak, Entrapta stepped in between them.

But when the old woman ducked under her arm, Entrapta blankly thought, Touché. Boy, she was tired and ready to sleep for like a hundred days or something.

“Kadroh, where have you and Ani been—oh dear, you’re hurt—”

“Um, ma’am, I’m sorry, but you have me mistaken for—I’m Hordak, not...”

“He’s right, Razz,” Anillis said, voice low. “Look at his eyes, look at his crest—”

The old woman—Razz squinted behind her big round glasses. Then her voice softened. “Yes, I see now...so similar, though...you’re Kadroh’s younger brother, aren’t you?”

Entrapta gaped. For as long as she remembered, Hordak had been an orphan and in General C’yra’s custody. Hordak turned to Anillis-in-the-sword. “What’s going on, you still haven’t explained anything—!”

“I will when you’re bleeding out a little less,” the sword A.I. snapped back. Then more calmly, he said, “Razz, do you have a place where we could stay?”

“Of course, dear, same as last time.” Then Razz turned, offering Hordak a hand. “Here, let Madame Razz and your violet friend here help you up—”

Then Evenstar beeped and scuttled forward. “That’s okay, Evie can give Hordak a ride,” Entrapta said, taking her partner’s hand. Then she paused, looked from Razz to Hordak. “You’re okay with this, right? Razz seems nice, and real nonthreatening, Anillis apparently knows her—and sorry for talking about you even though you’re right here.” She shot Razz a somewhat embarrassed look.

“Don’t fret, dearie,” Razz said, giving a smile so calming Entrapta immediately felt a little more relaxed.

“It’s fine, I want—” Hordak winced, and Entrapta held him. “I want answers, and Razz and the sword seem to know—”

“Anillis,” Entrapta corrected him without thinking, and Hordak glared at the ground.

“You can trust Razz,” Anillis said, his voice breaking in again. He sounded detached, but Entrapta thought it was the sort of detached she tried to use with the princesses when she wanted to hide stuff. “She’s an old friend.”

Hordak’s only response was to place a hand on Evenstar, and Entrapta helped him up, settling him on top of his robot. Then she moved to grab the sword, but Razz had already picked him up.

“It’s all right, I’ve got Ani here.”

“Anillis,” the sword repeated, but more out of reflex with less intent on actually being heard. “We’re fine, Entrapta.”

Entrapta nodded, then climbed on top of Evenstar. She’d support Hordak if he started to slump down in exhaustion or actually fell asleep—either way, she’d be there holding him up and making sure he didn’t fall off his robot.

Holding Hordak close, Entrapta and him rode away on Evenstar, following Razz while she held the sword, its green gem glowing in the dark of the woods. 

---

A/N: There are some more direct swaps, and some more partial swaps. Like Hordak < — > Adora + Shadow Weaver < — > C'yra more directly, while Entrapta is partially swapped with Scorpia (cheerful Etherian princess raised in antagonist-aligned faction, though I imagine Swap!Entrapta's situation is pretty explicitly worse than Mainverse!Scorpia's) + just exploring Entrapta with a more explicitly traumatic background. (And been brainstorming that Swap!Scorpia more just Gen Swap and protagonist-aligned but still fighting the Royal Alliance, and there'll be no shifting down the line because she's more adamant about resisting the more corrupt Royal Alliance).

Perfuma, Mermista, and Frosta are just generally swapped from protagonist-aligned to antagonist-aligned and not with any specific characters, except maybe also elements of Shadow Weaver actually; they're Gen Swap and Mirrorverse/Moral Swap and explorations of Perfuma+Mermista+Frosta being older and stronger in their magic and more corrupt with their power.

And swapping can also just be pretty fluid/more sorta experimental. For example, C'yra < — > Shadow Weaver directly enough, but C'yra also still just as obsessed with the transforming wielder of the magic sword that rebels and defects, but now framed as an abusive mother than an abusive companion. (There won’t be any reconciliation between Swap!Hordak and Swap!C’yra.) Another example: Swap!Anillis also swapping around Light Hope’s and Horde Prime’s demeanor with being less robotic/a little more visibly snarky, as well as more concerned and invested rather than cold and uncaring.

Like in the mainverse, Emily = Evenstar and created by Hordak, but they're closer in this AU—Hordak personally built her and she's the only one he's created so far, Evenstar hasn’t been mass produced. Her name and paintjob are different since Hordak drew more from the leftover Bright Moon culture/decor he grew up in while he was raised in Bright Moon Castle.

[littlefreya]

The Way to Hell - Part 13

Summary: Post Mi6, Alternate Canon. August escaped Ethan Hunt with his face intact and just won himself the title of being the most dangerous man on earth. Brooding as he is, August is unwilling to back down on his murderous agenda he plots to continue where he was stopped.

Series Completed: Previous Chapter | | Chapters Masterlist | Next Chapter

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Ingvild) 🖤

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Mentions of sexual encounters, child neglect, betrayal, hinted physical abuse,  foul language and lots of angst.   

A/N: I thought chapter 13 will be the last one, but I didn’t want to rush the ending or have a chapter too long. So for those of you still waiting, hang in tight! Many thanks to @agniavateira​ who’s my muse and my editor, to @raspberrydreamclouds​ for this amazing cover and to those who’s been asking me about the chapter, means a lot to me. I am going into my usual Way to Hell posting panic attack. So bye for now.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*

Please comment, review and reblog.  💖

Title: Paradise lost

There cannot be peace before first a great suffering.  There cannot be love without first a great tragedy.

~*~

Opaline droplets of sweat form on his forehead. In his ears, a constant buzzing rings wretchedly as if an angry hornet is caged inside his skull. What was long buried abruptly awakens, stabbing at the back of his head. Red flashes sear through his eyes while images of Ingvild dissolving to ashes play in his mind, her bloodsoaked feathers crumbling to the ground.

“Why did you go?” August mutters under his breath, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He crumples the little yellow note with sheer frustration before throwing it on the bed. 

‘I told her not to go, I commanded her!’

The air in the room grows thick like the pit of a stygian forest. Tentacle-like branches appear behind his eyes creeping closer, clutching his limbs. Even though lost and abandoned in the thicket of his mind, her angelic scent still lingers on his skin, impossible to wash off. Sniffing at his biceps, he inhales the mixture of their union on his flesh;  what begins as euphoric mirth quickly meets the sharp edge of rage and hatred.

She’s gone and it gnaws at the dark matter of his brain. 

He hates it. 

Hates her for being absent.

Frowning deeply, August reaches a rigid hand for his clothes, forcing himself to get dressed. The very first memory of her hinges on his mind: An icy woman with silver-moon eyes who refused his pursuit. 

‘Did you think the two of you are going to ride toward the sunset together? That’s not you.’

Letting out heavy gasps, he shakes his head. “She’ll be fine,” he whispers dismissively, pulling on his trousers and hastily buckling his belt. 

The new world order awaits, so close he can feel the fresh sun sitting on his open palm. It is his vision, his legacy: bigger than whatever it is Ingvild and him have together. 

There was no her in his plan, to begin with. 

The Devil never had a queen. 

‘You know what they’ll do to her…’

Another ray of daytime terror cuts through his thoughts: her wings plucked from her back, threads of flesh tearing from her naked body. Her screams die in silence.  

“She chose to leave, I asked her not to!” August yells into the empty room, frowning at no one but himself as he grabs the used shirt which hangs from the tall mirror. Turning to his reflection, he tenses at the sight of his body. Crimson valleys lead down his back, courtesy of her claws branding deep into soft tissue and toned muscles.

‘Do you know what is the probability of finding someone like her? A woman who wants to see the world burn with you? Who believes in your cause of building a new one?’

August swallows hard and combs his fingers through his hair with haste, attempting to act normal through the intensifying drumming in his ears. Being completely methodical, he pulls his long trench coat over his shoulders and collects his belongings into his black duffle bag on the bed. With a heavy painful breath, he forces his thoughts away, zipping the bag with urgency and reciting in his mind everything necessary for his trip. Time is scarce, the end and the new beginning are nigh; the smart thing to do is to forget her, erase her existence from the chambers of his heart. 

He doesn’t have one anyway. 

His hand secures the gun in its holster and harsh fingers lace around the black straps of his bag as he stretches himself straight, ready to leave this bedroom. That’s when his eyes fall again to the crumpled yellow note. 

‘You’ll never see her in Kashmir, you’ll never see her again.’ 

~*~

‘Amazing,’ the silver-haired wolf muses while scratching his bristly jaw. For 13 years the evil spawn’s eyes remained exactly as they were the day he picked her from the orphanage. Grey crystal orbs so naive, clueless, and oh so hungry for validation. A child desperate to prove herself worthy to someone, anyone. 

It was her single flaw and his greatest advantage.

Even now in the bloom of adulthood, the pale, scrawny thing standing before him is nothing but a lost little girl who wants someone to hold her bony hand. 

‘How can someone be so smart yet at the same time so blind?’

The cheap motel room smells like mildew and rotten wood. Speckles of dust float between the handler and his prodigy, cascading over his glance that seems rather alien and naked as glass. It pierces through her muscles - this sudden sense of peculiarity and estrangement.     

She chews the inside of her cheeks and sways slightly on her spot, arms hanging loose at her side. Ingvild lifts her chin to look at Liam, her eyes round with what can only be guilt. It makes her look like a child who broke an antique vase. 

“Thank you for answering my call,” she begins, wrapping her fist around a disposable phone before throwing it on the tidy bed.

Liam scoffs and shakes his head, ridicule spreading on his face. “You’ve gotten yourself into trouble over a boy, child?” He stares up and down the young woman, noticing the obvious change in her posture.

‘So, she truly is a woman now; how did I not see this one coming with her constant chatter about how handsome he is when I handed her the dossier?’

“Please don’t tell me you need money to get an abortion.” 

Ingvild frowns with disgust and shakes her head right away. “Never. No, it’s not what I’m here for.”

Displeased as always, Liam emits his usual grunt. He slowly shakes his head at his asset while running his fingers through his lanky grey hair. This is not how he imagined this mission to end. Her lack of emotions was a key element; Ingvild could have had a few good years running several missions for him, but what tipped the scale was for her to run into the wrong psychopath.

“Then tell me Ingvild, why should I listen to a failed assassin such as yourself? You’ve been weird about this mission since day one. Acting discreet, irresponsible, and reckless,” the old man’s Adam's apple bobs up and down in his throat as he speaks. Taking a small stride, he moves closer to get a better look of her diamond irises. So sharp and so strange, they’ve always irked him. As a child she downright looked like something out of a horror movie. 

“You’ve had 445 successful missions, not even 30 years old. Yet here you are a failure, and for what? For a boy?”

Shame traps her tongue and her glance drops to the floor. Failure stings like a rod of hot iron piercing her beating heart. Yet her mind races to the night at the pit where August finally claimed her, the memory of his lips sets glowing embers through her veins. On her skin remains the evidence of his embrace. Microscopic cells, tinted by his DNA. 

She doesn’t want this feeling to go away. 

Liam clears his throat, tearing her away from memories that turn from tar to honey the longer she dwells on them.

“You know why your mother gave you away, Ingi?” Liam asks, giving her a ghastly sardonic smile while cocking one eyebrow.

‘Liam never smiles.’ 

A small frown sets creases above her freckled nose. “I asked you many times before and you always said you don’t know.”

The Dane scoffs at her, his smile widening, exposing cigarette-and-coffee-stained teeth. The rot around his gums makes her curl her nose slightly and flinch as he leans closer. 

“You were a rape baby.”

The words send a pang through her muscles, like stepping on glass. She shakes her head with protest and steps back, yet Liam nods knowingly, standing in front of her.

“You’re lying.”

His small hazel eyes burn holes through her skull, his smile sinister and impish. “Your father was a savage, a rapist. He left your poor mother half-dead and impregnated in the forest you love so much. Who knows, maybe that’s why you kept going there as a child, reconnecting with your true nature.” 

Refusing to listen, she shies from his piercing glare. Liam reaches a coarse hand to cup her jaw, forcing her face back to his. “Your mother hated you. Your very existence reminds her of the most terrible thing that ever happened to her.”

For a child with such a limited emotional range, Liam finds that the muscles of her face are capable of stretching thoughtfully with spite. Pent up hatred creases her brow, her silver eyes turning to hot, molten gold. She bites on her tongue, keeping a vow of silence but he can read her face just the way an assassin would. 

“Nothing but a mistake, disowned by your own mother. So why would this man, this... mass murdering psychopath love you?” Liam shifts her head from side to side, inspecting the healing cuts and bruises that decorates her pale skin. “He saw an opportunity and seized it, used you…”

He pauses, moving away from a stare colder than icy lake water, “just like they will.”

Ingvild parts her lips with wonder, glaring at the person she knew all her life with disbelief. In the glossy reflection of Liam’s honey-brown eyes, she sees several black, long rifles pointed at her head.

Liam curls his thin lips with an utter lack of remorse and shrugs indifferently.

“She’s yours.”

*~*~

If colours had sound then the pale blinding white would be a continuous high-frequency hum. The tunes and shades of death. Like angry flies feasting on a corpse. 

‘Is this Valhalla?’

A small groan escapes her mouth, her eyes hurting from the sickly radiance of the narrow fluorescent lamps hanging from the ceiling. Her wrists feel numb as they’re pulled behind her back in restraints. 

“No,” she opens her mouth to speak, her throat burning, her voice a hoarse whisper. “Definitely not Valhalla...” 

‘You need to be a hero to enter Valhalla, stupid girl.’

Stupid didn’t even begin to describe it. August would never let her hear the end of it.

Loud, angry steps tap on the white marble floor, growing louder as the person approaching enters the room. Ingvild blinks, peering at the silhouette when a smile of comfort paints her drowsy face. Like a god, her lover strides toward her with his usual confidence. His ocean-blue eyes beam at her sight, his palm spread open to embrace his tiny Valkyrie. She chuckles at the mischievous, charming grin on his face as it reminds her the day they first met. 

Oh, she wishes to nibble his stupid chin right now and brush her fingers along his thick moustache.

But as she blinks again, large brown almond-shaped eyes replace the ocean-blue. A panther of a woman stands before her: confident, strong, and impossibly beautiful. Her dark, succulent lips are pressed together and concern shines through as she observes the small woman who has her arms cuffed behind her back and her feet shackled to the metal legs of the chair. 

With her head still heavy, the assassin turns her face from side to side. She quickly observes the armed guards at the entrance, the tall, greying agent standing nonchalantly against the wall awaiting orders, and lastly the sickly-looking, lean man who is positioned at the fore of a metal desk with his fingers laced together. Anticipation is written all over his line-riddled face. 

“Erica Sloane,” Ingvild calls knowingly, the ghost of a wicked smile dancing on her chapped lips as she turns her head to face the CIA director. Dressed in a black power suit and crimson pumps, the director is drenched with big dick energy.

“August told me so much about you, but he didn’t mention how fuckable you are.” Ingvild drawls, fluttering her lashes as she scans her from head to toe. 

Tilting her head, Erica grabs a white plastic chair and places it in front of Ingvild. She then takes a seat, crossing her long smooth legs together. Kindness and motherly concern pours from her dark eyes, expressions Ingvild never received from anyone in her life.

“Poor child, I imagine August Walker filled your head with many stories.”

“No…” Ingvild swallows, trying to dampen her sore throat. Noticing her struggle, Erica snaps her fingers and the greying agent rushes to bring her a plastic cup of water like a loyal dog. Focusing on the translucent beads around the cup, Ingvild flicks her tongue over her lips. “August was too busy filling other parts of me.”

The intrepid woman begins to laugh at her own joke, her voice dragging groggily while Erica rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

“I imagine so.” She answers and then carefully tilts the cup to Ingvild’s lips, offering the drink to the girl who sips with desperation as if she walked the desert. “August was my best agent,” she explains, watching the stream of water that rolls down Ingvild’s chin as she gulps with an incredible thirst, “a really proficient assassin, ranked high in every mission I sent him to. My golden boy. Even though that shit-eating attitude of him was something else...”

Withdrawing the cup, she looks into Ingvild’s cold silvery stare. “Those snarky, arrogant remarks and him going through the whole department like a fox in a hen coop I could overlook. But that fucker had us all fooled, Ingvild, as he fooled you.”

Ingvild flutters her dark lashes and tips her chin up. Her defined cheekbones sharpen even more as a snake-like arrogance poisons her face. “August told me what you did,” she utters sincerely, while Erica commands the agent to refill the plastic cup. Loathing melts her beautiful sullen glaciers as she focuses on Erica. 

The CIA director narrows her eyes at her in return, and curls her lips downward as disdain fills her mouth. “I am not the one who made Walker murder Agent Hartmann, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“You deceived him,” Ingvild retorts calmly and sucks in her bottom lip, collecting the remaining droplets of water onto her tongue. “That’s what you and your little agencies do to people like us. Set up traps for predators and pretend to act surprised as they eat the bait.”

Holding the cup, Erica stares at the young woman thoughtfully, the burning hatred in her eyes reminding her so much of Agent Walker: An entitled spoiled brat, thinking he can wind the world to the direction only he sought to be right. 

“You can’t blame a predator for following its nature, and you can’t expect him to behave otherwise.” 

“Is that how you see yourself?” Erica asks, moving the cup away, though she can see the thirst on Ingvild’s gaping bottom lip. “August poisoned your mind but I assure you, you are not the monster he is. You never had the choice that he did.”

Erica’s voice suddenly becomes soft, and her big brown eyes become round with care that only a parent can express. But the only form of parent Ingvild ever had was Liam, and he was never much of a father, was he? It took less than a few hours for him to give her away. 

She wonders how long it took for her real mother.

Her gaze drops, peering at Erica’s shiny crimson shoes as they counter the lifelessness of the floor like blood in the snow. Memories whisk her away again, a man in pursuit of a woman deep in an icy forest. She should have died that night and yet here she is, shackled to a chair. The voice of the man who saved her echoes through her head with a fair warning: ‘Liam never gave a flying fuck about you.’

Sharp as a needle, it pricks her heart.

“I know what Icarus did. Moulding you into the perfect assassin, depriving you of the childhood and the life you deserved.” Erica’s voice cuts into her trail of thoughts, making her raise her gaze back to the beautiful woman. “Now, I don’t know what twisted fantasies August may have offered but I can assure you, they are empty just like him. You read his file, you know what he’s capable of. Looking at your scars and bruises I assume he hurts you for his own sick pleasure, taking advantage of a woman who only wants to be loved.”

‘She doesn’t know him like I do, the way he drank my lips and called me his angel, the way his fingertips beat the warm blood in my arteries.’ Ingvild shuts her eyes, soaking in the remnants of his touch as it still ghosts across her body.

Erica’s kind, tepid hand wraps around the young woman’s jaw, lifting her pale face with the cautiousness of a human tending a wild creature. Grey and dark-brown collide at the seams as they share a silent stare.    

“If you’ll give us his location, we can arrange for your freedom and protection.”  

Ingvild breaks away from Erica’s grip, pushing herself back in the chair as much as she can. The screech of metal against marble makes the guards cringe. Slow and cold, a sardonic chuckle begins to burst from Ingvild’s lungs. The laughter echoes off the walls while she shakes her head with disbelief. 

“Do I look like a dumb bitch to you? Even if this was true, do you think I’m willing to be a slave to another government? Kept ignorant and tabbed? I’d rather rot in this cell while my beautiful monster dismantles your old world order.”

Drops of water splash at her face as Erica squashes the plastic cup in front of her, sulking with fury. Her eyebrows knit together and she purses her lips as if this young woman is something sour on her tongue. 

Evidently, Liam was right; the girl is far too gone, living in the little fantasy world August built for her. 

“If you think he ever cared about you for a split second, then you are a dumb bitch. No matter how this plays out, you and August are never going to end up happily ever after.” Erica spits, holding her finger at Ingvild’s childlike frown. “He’s never going to come for you. You were nothing but a toy, a plaything for him to pass the time.”

Ingvild scoffs and rolls her eyes, refusing to let these words cut into the beating muscle in her chest. 

`Stick and stones may break my bones...’

Solid, slender fingers wrap around her jaw, squeezing around her cheeks like a big spider. She is met with Erica’s long lashes, while those deep brown eyes slice into her soul. 

“You might think you know him, but I’ve worked with August long enough to know that he never loved anything other than his precious ego. So I would consider this as your final chance little girl, because if you don’t talk right now - this nice fellow here...” Erica pauses and gestures her head to the scrawny man who begins to hum a blissful tune while cracking his knuckles. Twisted excitement shines through his beady eyes as he glances at the set of sharp surgical tools lying on the desk.

“He’s going to make you sing like the precious bird you are.”

Fear shies from Ingvild’s stoic, icy face. The well-lubricated gears in the labyrinth of her head begin to work, observing the possible escape options and scanning every cavity, crease, and man in Erica’s lovely torture chamber.  

The door suddenly bursts open. A man in his mid thirties with bright red hair and a freckle-covered face rushes in, huffing heavily. His pink skin glistens with sweat, the strands of his fiery hair sticking on his large forehead while his hand holds onto his chest with distress. 

“Sloane, there is something you need to see…” he opens his mouth breathlessly.

“Not now!” Sloane snaps at him, looking at Ingvild with contempt. There is nothing she wishes more than to avoid torturing a young woman, especially someone as misguided as this poor porcelain doll. All she needs is to make her see the truth, that August never cared for her, that she was just another pawn in his grand scheme. 

“Director, I am sorry, but you really need to come and see this.” 

Agitated, Erica snaps in her chair to look at him. “What is it, Agent Louis?”

“It’s John Lark’s manifesto, ma’am…” he sighs, shoulders slumping, “it’s… it’s everywhere.”

A shivering hiss escapes her mouth. The shiver that graces the rail of her spine is like a shower of icy water, making her slowly rise from her chair. August’s harmful “poetry” is released into the air like toxic gas, contaminating every fragile little mind in an already unstable world.  

“Do you like my little surprise?” Ingvild asks, making the baffled woman turn to gaze at her. There’s a malicious little smile dancing across her eyes, her brows lifting with an arrogance that strongly resembles Agent Walker. 

Swallowing hard, the CIA woman takes a step back, tugging her jacket straight and looking at the torturer who lifts a small hammer between his pliable fingers. 

“Break her, until she talks.” 

The harsh tapping of her heels dies down and her silhouette becomes smaller until it disappears behind the shutting door. 

“Pretty girl...” The man’s voice is brittle and thin as he is, every word ending with a slight snake-like hiss. He moves to scrutinise her from head to toe, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip with a prying nature. 

“You know August used to mock me…”

“I can see why,” she spits out, looking back at him with both fearlessness and utter disrespect. She killed men bigger than him, hell, August’s kneaded her to submission and his torture was nothing but sweet. 

She can take him on, she can take all of them on.

The lean man beams at her, holding up the small shiny hammer and running his finger over the rim pervertedly. The dead skin around his nails rouses disgust in her gut, yet she rolls her eyes and fakes a yawn.

He chuckles at her theatrics and kneels in front of her with one unstable hand pressing onto her thigh. His revolting fingers scratch gently at her denim, making her shiver. If August knew another man was laying his finger on her… 

But August is not here.

“Well… shall we begin, little bird?”

***

‘When this world ends and the new one begins, what will be of your little Valkyrie? Merely bones and rotting flesh laid in an unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere and mourned by no one. Won’t you be jealous of the insects feasting on her narcotic tissue?’

Cold air seeps through his nose as sharp bullets of hail hit the ground with the fury of angry gods, shattering onto the ruins of an old bridge with a loud, clattering noise. Sheltered from the rage of the heavens, August stands beneath the wreckage, facing the men who came to make the final exchange. 

Blue and green ferns have grown over the decaying surroundings, climbing over rusted metal. Nature reclaiming its place over man’s occupied space. Justice and beauty in decadence and rot. 

‘Memento mori.’

“The plutonium,”  August demands, his thick brows shadowing his eyes in a battle to remain composed. Those same parasitic visions of sheer terror burden him like a daytime nightmare: pale as porcelain, she sinks to the bottom of a lake thick with blood. His hand reaches out for her, fingers trying to grasp whatever he can but she slips away. 

‘How far do you think Erica will go this time?’ 

A rogue droplet of sweat glides languidly down his temple, crossing over a bulging tendon. Unfortunately quite apparent to the three men who scrutinise him with wonder: two well-paid bodyguards and a slimy-looking slug, wearing a dark business suit that does nothing but emphasize his fragile masculinity. 

“The money first!” The businessman whines, attempting to make a tough face.

‘A cock and two balls.’ August jests and does his best to remain indifferent while anxiety threatens to claw its ugly talons in his throat. The seller’s receding hairline is thick with dandruff, his dull green eyes attempt to mimic confidence, as a beta male would do when facing a pure alpha, trying to compensate for lost dignity.  

‘I don’t have time for this,’ August huffs, his chest puffing and the immense shoulders stretching even wider, exhuming his natural overpowering dominance. His patience runs brittle as a dry twig. A restless throb thunders between his ears like a scab, latched inside his brain. 

The slug pries his mouth open to speak, yet his voice becomes dull as if the world just went underwater.

‘Do you think she’ll go as far as to let her men touch her? You know, not just the usual torture they put interrogated suspects through, but the type of touch only you are allowed to.’

‘She doesn’t have the balls, she won’t do that to another woman.’ 

‘Won’t she? It’s personal this time. Erica knows what you are capable of. And your Ingvild, she’s an apostle too now, an enemy of the world…’

Fever burns at his sweaty forehead and his lungs gradually collapse. Visions he can’t even bring himself to imagine attempt force their way into his mind. The yapping of the man who stands in front of him goes on and on; while August can feel himself speak in response, the words spouting from his lips are on autopilot. 

All he can think of is her, stripped naked, torn to shreds by dark shadows.   

‘She holds back a lot, but when she slips, aren’t her screams so beautiful? Her pleasant little voice, stretching so melodically, like skin over bone, thin and light.’

“Shut up!”

All eyes lift to August in silent bewilderment. His fists tighten, nails digging into his coarse palms as the will to rip someone to shreds beats through his blood. These men will be no more than a casualty. 

“Do you know who I am?” He asks in a deep, menacing tone, his hand but a second from reaching his holster. By measured calculation, he already anticipates how quickly he would shoot them one by one without so much of a scratch on his cheek.

“I’m John, fucking, Lark. My apostles are awaiting orders this very instance,” he reaches for his phone, ignoring the flinch in their posture as he draws it from his pocket and shakes it in his hand on display, “and you want to stand here in this shit weather and measure dicks? Spoiler alert,” he takes a stride in front of the little man, careless of his bodyguards who reach for their weapons, “mine is far bigger.”   

The seller peers at him silently, noticing the icy crust of rage in August’s glare. His pale eyes cut like diamonds while the shadow of his brooding figure falls upon the small man’s face. 

“You will get your money once I get to see the plutonium and confirm it’s authenticity,” August calls out assertively, each word distinguished, each syllable emphasised and sharp as a blade. Death is no longer an enemy to August Walker but an old friend, and those trolls under the bridge are a mere joke to the inferno he’s been basking at his entire life.

‘Limb by limb, feather by feather, while you waste your time...’

‘She wanted me here, she wanted me to secure the plutonium. If I don’t do this, it will all be for nothing.’

‘So now you are doing this for her?’

Not saying another word, the seller nods and snaps his fingers. Agitation is evident on his face yet the violence emanating from August forces him to bite down his pride. One of his henchmen approaches with a suitcase and opens it up to show August the orbs.

Thunder rips through the sky and the hail turns into a symphony of wrath. Icicles break across the construction site above, splashing water everywhere around them. Staring at the platinum spheres, August sees his own reflection dulled by the dirty silver curve. 

A dormant thing. But when set into motion, ever so deadly. 

He presses the beryllium rod to test the authenticity of the material and a sigh of relief pipes itself through his nose at the sound of the radioactive note on his testing device. Celebration blooms in his weary heart but the festivity is deemed achingly empty and dies out right away. 

‘Stop thinking about her, she’s gone. Focus on the cause, you’re almost there, just keep pushing through the doors.’ 

~*~

The blizzard melted into shy rain. The soft little drops dampen his hair, perming his large curls with the assistance of the cool winter breeze. Standing with the suitcase on the side of the rural road, August awaits his ride taking him to the helipad to proceed to Kashmir. It has been so long since he last met his true colleagues, since his departure from Lane in Norway. Avoiding any risks, contact was kept only necessary for the last stages of their tasks.

Doom’s day.

Securing the plutonium should have brought him relief, yet his chest continues to sink into his spine as if it’s being filled with coals. August Walker threaded through life alone, yet this sudden solitude is suddenly harrowing, making him feel like a gutted fish. Looking to his empty side he the ghost of her appears, giving him a bratty smirk. 

“Go away,” he chides, refusing to think of her. Of that stupid mouth talking back, tormenting him with sweet saccharine and cinnamon-like kisses. In his reminiscences, the softness of her lips still hinges. Tenderness meeting the bristle of his neck as she lay gentle wet markings up his coarse jaw. 

His fingers press to his mouth trying to harness the memory. 

A large car drives into the side of the road, speeding up and braking right next to his legs, missing August’s foot by an inch. Frowning at the careless driver, he grunts and brushes his hair before opening the passenger door.

“Took you awhile,” he grunts as he slips into the seat and peers at the driver. A bulky man in his early 40s with dark short cropped curls and thin lips. He shoots August a glance and turns back to the steering wheel.  

“Not my bad, you made a fucking mess, Lark.” The man answers and begins driving right away, careless of the fact that August didn’t put his seatbelt on and that he is holding radioactive material. 

Throwing the seatbelt over himself and fastening it, August growls and carefully secures the case on the side of the driver seat, his index finger remaining on the brim. He gently caresses the hard black leather. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

The driver peers at him oddly before looking down the road, driving fast and passing a large log truck. “Releasing the manifesto. MI6 and the CIA are all over the place,” he says and turns the radio on, letting August hear the news on his own. “I get why you did it now, it’s brilliant to cause another distraction but you’ve made shit a bit harder with those cunts running around. They tracked it back from London and have been surveying the entire area.”

“I didn’t release the... “ 

August stills, his muscles shriveling up as realisation quickly hits him. 

‘Oh angel, what have you done?’

Drawing out his mobile phone, August immediately begins to search the newsite, his eyes an ocean of panic, fluttering back and forth. It’s everywhere, news about an anarchist manifesto, spreading like a virus through every social media outlet, leaked by codename “Jane Lark”. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, reading his own written word as he goes through an article posted on the BBC’s newsite. But she changed the last verse, added a little piece of her own:  

“Valkyries mounted onto beasts,  We will ride eternal to the sun. The blazes will sear us but we will not back down,  United by our cause of just war, Unflinching we will scour the earth, Until humanity comes together in tranquil and harmony.”

‘She loves you, you see? The way she lets you bleed her, use her, spill all your pain inside her. The way she held onto you just a night ago, your name falling from her lips, her body pressing into yours to take all of you. She’s the only one. The only woman who did and ever will. 

And you left her to die.’

________________________________

Disclaimer: I don’t own Mission Impossible and August Walker

[cancelingthenoise]

Unworthy

Soooo, after a 13 year hiatus, I’m trying to get back into writing and where better to start than fan fiction and with my fave OTP.  But buckle up, it’s a heavy one.  Hopefully I’ve tagged all the appropriate trigger warnings; apologies if I’ve missed any - please let me know if I have!!

Summary: Addict.  Junkie.  Worthless.  He has been gone for three years and is ready to come home, but his biggest enemy is still the one inside.  

Rated: Mature (Addiction, Recovery, Implied Drug Use, Drug References, Mild Sexual Content)

Cross-posted to FFN and AO3

He inserts the coins and dials a number he knows by heart.  The only one that is permanently branded into the recesses of his mind. As it rings, he hopes – let it be the right number, let it still be her number, let her pick up …

Hello?

“Kagome.”

Inu … Inuyasha?

“I … want to come home.”

Where are you?

He tells her the city, the intersection, the name on the warehouse nearby.  Everything that can pinpoint exactly where he is so she can find him.

I’m on my way.  Stay put.

There’s a tone in her voice he can’t identify and it sends pangs straight to his heart, but she’s coming. She’s coming.  

And so, he waits.

Two hours later a familiar red sedan pulls up in front of him and its driver approaches.  She’s older now, tired, he notices as he stands to greet her.  He watches as she looks him over.  He’s dirty, he knows, and even his demon-blood cannot mask how battered and bruised he is.  He’s shocked but admittedly pleased when she wraps her arms around his waist and squeezes him in an embrace.  Her scent is altogether lovely and calming, like coming home.

It takes every fiber of his being not to whine when she pulls away and looks him square in the eyes. Her grey eyes are intense and full of contrasting emotions.  All for him. “Let’s go.” She finally speaks, her tone decisive and unyielding.

He has nothing but the clothes on his back, but instead of a pitying glance, she nods.  It’s almost cathartic that she’s here and he has no physical baggage to take.  She tosses her purse from the passenger seat into the back so he can settle in.

He notices the ring when she places her hands on the steering wheel.  Ten-and-two, ever predictable.

“You’re engaged.” He cannot hide the shock, the disdain that he feels.

“Yes.”

Her response is sharp and leaves no invitation for a response, but he can’t help it as the jealousy bubbles up through his core.

“Had enough waiting on the addict to clean up his act?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he feels instant regret.  He’s always been a hothead who runs his mouth before thinking, but he can tell these words sting deep.  They pain him too.

She flinches and releases a haggard breath.

“That’s not fair.  You left.  You stopped calling.  You stopped picking up.  You couldn’t even text.  And then your number went out.  Now you’ve called me from a payphone.  It’s been three years.” Her eyes remain firmly on the road, hands clenching the wheel, but he can see her body tremble and hear the strain in her voice. She’s angry.  Furious.

He slumps, “I’m sorry.” His whisper is meek as he understands a mere apology is not nearly enough to make amends for the past.  It doesn’t explain why he had to disappear, why he went away for so long.  It can’t make her understand his reasons.

She nods almost imperceptibly and seems to consider a game plan.  “I’ll take you to Sesshomaru’s.”

“No.” He’s vehement. There’s no chance in hell he will turn to his half-brother.  Especially now.

“Sango and Miroku’s then.”

“And?” He balks at the conjunction.

“They’re married now. Have been for a year.  You would’ve been his Best Man, but …”

She trails off, but he understands.  They couldn’t find him, reach him.  The hole he left in their lives appears to be much greater than he imagined.  

They drive in silence for nearly an hour.  He wants to speak, wants to tell her everything, but he can’t find the words; and based on the furtive glances she keeps sending him, she can’t either.

“I was so scared you were dead.” She finally whimpers.

“Some days I wished I was.” He admits forlornly.

She looks at him for a few moments before staring back at the road, brows furrowed, mouth turned down.

“I’m glad you’re not.”

Those are the last words spoken before silence consumes them again.

After they hit the city limits, she drives to a house in the suburbs.  It looks like a dream with its double-attached garage and neatly manicured lawn.  A chokecherry tree sits among a bed of flowers in the middle of the green; simple yet attractive and he knows whose home he stands in front of.  She leads him from the driveway to the royal blue front door and it opens almost immediately, revealing two faces he has longed to see almost as much as Kagome’s. Their expressions are a combination of disbelief and relief.  Miroku does not hesitate to embrace him with a sigh as Sango looks on with tears in her eyes.  He reaches a tentative hand out to her which she grasps tightly with a closed smile.

They usher him into the house and guide him to their kitchen.  Miroku settles him into a spot at the breakfast bar as Sango pours him a glass of water.  They do not speak, though the questions in their eyes are obvious.  Miroku nods at him as he and Sango walk back to the door, to Kagome.  She hasn’t come in.  Her face has been drawn since they stopped speaking during the drive.  

He waits inside the kitchen as they speak outside.  He could train his ears to listen to their conversation, and briefly considers it, but he chooses not to.  His absence has prohibited him from those intimacies.  They are different people now, just as he is.  They are probably discussing how to get him on his feet again as quickly as possible so they can get back to their lives.  Why would they want him to stay? Why would they want him around for longer than necessary?

Miroku and Sango return to him.  He hears the telltale roar of an engine and knows Kagome has gone.  He feels sadness, but knows why she’s left without a word. After all, who can jump right into caring for your former partner who has all but risen from the grave?

Sango looks him over, assessing him thoroughly.  He avoids her eyes, unsure of what emotions she’s wearing and afraid to meet them.  Shame fills his bones.  Maybe he should have stayed away.  Maybe he should have stayed dead in their minds.  He is a spot on their pristine lives.

Miroku refills his glass of water and replaces it on the counter before sitting on the stool beside him.

“You’re alive,” he finally breathes.

Inuyasha meets Miroku’s gaze and is warmed to see compassion and joy in his deep blue eyes.  The shame that was eating him just moments ago fades ever so slightly.

“You’re home.” Miroku states, “It’s a miracle.  Where have you been? What have you been doing?”

The dam is officially broken and all the questions that he knew were coming are finally bare, and despite everything, he feels entirely unprepared to answer.  So he starts slow, begins with the day they last saw him.  He tells them of his travels, the hitchhiking, the homelessness, but skimps out on the details of things he has done, the sins he has committed.  Those are secrets he will take to the grave.  He is unwilling to mar the consciences of those he loves.

“Have you…” Sango shakes her head, unable to finish her question, but he fully comprehends what she means to ask.

“No.  I’ve been clean since the day I left.”

“Then why?”

“Loose ends.” He murmurs. “I had to settle my debts.  They … they would’ve come for her if I didn’t comply.”

“For so long?”

Three years is nothing, he wants to tell them.  He’s lucky he only had to serve that long.  Naraku is a malevolent bastard and exploits the last breath out of most.  Frankly, his death would have been an easier price to pay.

“I had to earn my freedom.” He admits this ashamedly and hopes they don’t press for more.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It wasn’t so simple.”

“So you disappeared.” Sango states brusquely, her tone is harsh and unforgiving.  “You broke her heart, you know.  You broke all of our hearts when you left.”

That admission freezes him from the inside.  He knew his absence would be difficult for them all, but hearing it spoken aloud affects him more than he thought it would.  He imagines Kagome sobbing into her pillow.  It’s a scene that is all too familiar, he’s caused her many tears – too many.

“I know.  I’m sorry.” He repeats his submissive apology from earlier and slumps, his forehead almost touching the counter.

“You’re here now,” Miroku responds comfortingly and places a hand on his shoulder, “You’re here.  You’re alive.  You’re safe.  That’s what matters.  We can help you now, if you want it.”

He lifts his head and looks directly at Sango whose cinnamon eyes convey grief and yet hold a glimmer of hope.  He turns to Miroku who is awaiting his response.

“Yes.” He declares, confidence daring to materialize, “Please.”

Later that evening he is settling into the spare bedroom they’ve given him.  Before him is a suitcase of his belongings that Kagome has dropped off on the front step.  He takes a breath and opens it.  He is quickly overcome with her sweet scent which is deeply embedded in each item. The clothes are slightly too big for him now.  Three years of constantly moving, being on the run, and meager meals have diminished his former stature.

Amongst his clothes is a red leather-bound book.  A journal. It smells more intimately of Kagome than everything else.  She has wept openly on these pages, he can tell.  He opens it and thumbs quickly through the pages.  Each entry is a letter addressed to him.  As he flips through the journal certain phrases jump out at him amidst the lines of her loopy hand.

I want to hate you.

Where are you?

I wish I had never met you.

Are you alive?

I wish I could hold you.

Please come home.

I love you.

He shudders as he realizes that these pages hold missives from the last three years.  These are Kagome’s thoughts, her feelings.  This is an intimacy he thought was nearly impossible now.  She has to have put this with his things on purpose.  She’s thorough like that.  Every action is purposeful, thoughtful.  He finds the last entry in the journal, it’s dated today.

Inuyasha,

This is a collection of letters that I began writing when I realized you weren’t coming home anytime soon.  Eventually I thought you weren’t coming home at all.  I used these to talk to you as if you were still by my side.  I don’t know what you’ve been through and maybe giving you this journal is selfish of me, but I needed you to see.

I hope they help you understand why I can’t be the one to help you right now.  I need time. It’s ironic saying that after you’ve been gone for three years.  It feels like there’s been nothing but time between us.  I thought you were dead when I received your call today.  I thought I was hearing a ghost.  I’m so grateful you’re alive, but things are different now.  We are not the same people we were before.

I need to figure this out.

Please understand.

Kagome

It isn’t until tears splatter on the page that he realizes he is crying.  Of course she needs time.  He knew this was a possibility when he made the phone call this afternoon. He’d hoped against hope that she would come for him and take him back fully.  But that was wishful thinking.  He knew there was a chance she would turn him away.  She could have hung up as soon as she heard his voice.  But she came for him, made arrangements for him.  But she is engaged to another man.  She needs to figure out if there is still room in her life for him.

For her, he’d wait a lifetime.  Even to just be her friend.

It is another three months before he sees Kagome again.  He’s read that journal more times than he cares to admit.  All her sleepless nights are immortalized in those grid-lined pages, that he’s now dog-eared and bookmarked.  Her worries, fears, even her dreams laid bare.  He knows how often she cried when he was in the depths of his addictions, but it has taken this journal to make him truly appreciate how deeply he hurt her, even after he was gone.  And to his astonishment, it wasn’t the behaviour that hurt her the most, it was his poor viewpoint of himself.

I wish you could see you how I do.

I should have told you more what you meant to me.

I regret every moment I didn’t say “I love you.”

He knows Sango sees her regularly, he can always scent her when Sango arrives home.  It’s not as if they’re keeping their meetings a secret, but he’s respecting her space even though it kills him.  It bothers him when he can smell the sadness of her tears and the tinge of fatigue.  He wonders what causes her tears these days, why she’s so often tired, why sometimes there’s a trace of illness in her scent that lingers on Sango.  From Miroku he learns that she’s busy with her residency at the hospital.  Ever the studious achiever.  Ever wanting to help others.  To heal.

This is the reason he knows she’d never give up on him.  It’s why she was the one he called.  She’s a walking bleeding heart, always has been.  She sees the best in people, even when their best is a mere speck amidst obscurity.  When he was at his worst, she stood by him.  When everyone else had lost hope and he’d been slipping deeper into his addictions, his darkness, she stayed.  She brought him back from the brink of death’s door one too many times.  Back then, she truly loved him.  And he’s holding onto hope with every fiber of his being that she still does.

He hopes she’s proud of him and the progress he’s making.  Since he’s been back, he’s found work thanks to Miroku’s contacts in construction.  He’s proven himself to be a hard worker and has met a journeyman to mentor him as an apprentice in iron work.  It’s also helped boost his confidence with reintegrating into society.  At work, no one cares what his past is, what skeletons he hides in the closet, as long as he gets the job done.  At work, they’re all sinners just trying to get by.

He stays away from the parties and the after-work bar stops.  He recognizes the patterns in some of his colleagues all too well.  One drink leads to two leads to three leads to smack or blow or both which leads to miserable mornings because you’ve spent all night chasing that first-time spark.  No matter how hard you try, you can never attain that feeling again and still you chase. It’s the vicious cycle.  He’s done with that life.  It’s taken too much away from him, cost him too much.

Miroku and Sango have let him know that Kagome will be coming for dinner, so he’s had ample time to prepare.  But when she arrives in the doorway and her scent hits him like a freight train, he panics. Has she had enough time? Has she made a decision? Will she want him to stay away?  He runs to his room and leans back against the closed door.  He’s stared down the barrels of guns with less fear than what he’s experiencing in this moment.  

He smells her before he hears her footsteps arriving at his door.  Trepidation grips him as he hears her voice call to him for the first time in three months.  This is so much harder than that very first phone call that has brought him home.

“Inuyasha?”

She’s there, he can tell her face is pressed to the wood.  Her voice is soft, hesitant.  Perhaps she is just as nervous as him.

“Can I come in?”

He quakes as he reaches for the handle and turns it painfully slow.  He inches the panel open.  Finally, finally, he opens it all the way and turns to face her.

Her face is a portrait of concern and tenderness.  Her grey eyes are intense as they’ve always been and are already filling with tears. Her arms are wrapped around herself as if she’s blocking a gale.

He steps aside to let her in and shuts the door behind her.

She stares at the floor and he focuses on a spot on the wall above her head for a few moments.  He is completely stunned when she launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist and clutching as hard as she can. As he wraps his arms around her shoulders, she sobs fiercely and he feels tears prick the back of his own eyes.

He cups the back of her head, gently stroking her hair, and whispers repeatedly, “I’m sorry.”

It feels as if hours have passed when Kagome’s tears finally subside.  His body protests when she begins to pull away, but she clasps his hand and pulls him to sit on his bed.  She pulls a tissue out of her jeans pocket and wipes her face.

“Sango tells me you’ve been working,” her voice is pinched from crying, but he admires her attempts at normal conversation.

“Yeah, it’s going well.”

“Good,”

She smiles then and he thinks it’s the best thing he’s seen in years.  Her eyes are red and swollen, and her cheeks are ruddy, but her smile can still light up a room and he’s glad that it’s his.

“I … really am glad that you’re home.”

“Me too,”

“I’ve missed you a lot,

“Me too,” He feels like a goddamn broken record, but he may combust if he attempts more words.

“And … I’d like it if we could start hanging out again.”

He gapes at her, slack-jawed and eyes wide.  While he has been hoping for this, it is still a surprise to hear it straight from her lips.  His mind races with all the things he wants to say and his heart is lodged in his throat.

“That is … if you’d want to,”

He realizes that he’s taken too long to respond and she’s beginning to backtrack.  In a lot of ways, they are still the same people they were; confident in so many circumstances and yet, with each other, eternally hesitant and nervous.

“Of course I want to,”

The words rush out of his mouth in an effort to reassure her.  

“I would love to spend time with you.  I just wasn’t sure … if you’d …” he’s stumbling and feels like a fool, but he needs her to know.  He needs her to understand just how much he wants to be back in her life.

She smiles again and his world warms once more.

“I guess we shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer.”

It takes him a moment to remember that their friends are downstairs with dinner and they stand together. He realizes as they descend the stairs that she has not let go of his hand at all.  Her diamond ring is notably absent from her finger, but he leaves that question for another time.

Dinner is a simple affair and it’s the lightest he’s felt in years.

- - - - -

If there’s anything his life has taught him, it’s that happiness is temporary.  Six months of being home, six months of stability, and three months of having Kagome back in his life on a regular basis have made him happy.  It’s a feeling he didn’t think was possible, didn’t think he was worthy of.  After all, when life has ceaselessly handed him cruel lessons, why would happiness even be an option? So when it all comes crashing down as he’s out running errands with Miroku, it doesn’t surprise him, but it still hurts like a motherfucker.

“It’s you.”

The words are scathing and resentful.  He dreadfully lifts his gaze to meet the eyes of the person who seems to offended by his mere existence.  She’s a petite woman with short black hair, but the animosity in her eyes belies her diminutive stature.

“How dare you?” Her tone is soft but punitive.  “How dare you insert your filthy little hands back into Kagome’s life.  She was finally moving on.  She was happy.  She was going to marry Akitoki, he would have taken care of her.  He was good for her.  But you couldn’t stay away.  She broke off her engagement because of you.  You’re taking advantage of her heart.  She’s let go of her chance at happiness, and for what? To take care of you? A worthless little nobody who can’t wait for his next fix?”

The woman is viciously relentless.  Her diatribe is unforgiving, slicing him to the very bone.

He is completely frozen. He wants to yell back at her, tell her that he’s quite aware of how he is undeserving of Kagome’s compassion and forgiveness.  He knows that he’s been the cause of her pain and tears.  He knows he’s gotten more second chances than he deserves.  He knows her life was easier without him.  He knows Kagome is better than him.  He knows.  Oh, he knows.

He vaguely registers that Miroku has taken a step between them and is reprimanding the woman.  Eri, he remembers.  She’d been a friend of Kagome’s through school and had been more than vocal of her disapproval of him even then.

Eri quickly turns her malice toward Miroku.

“You’re no friend of Kagome, letting this fuck-up back into her life.”

“That’s enough.  I won’t allow you to continue vilifying Inuyasha.  And Kagome is fully capable of deciding for herself who she associates with.”

Miroku’s tone is level, but Inuyasha can tell he is running out of patience.  Miroku grips his elbow and guides him away from the venomous witch, but not before she can get a final word in.

“You should have stayed dead.”

He flinches then, her phrase echoing endlessly through his mind, settling into his gut and clawing at him from the inside.

Somehow Miroku gets them home, everything is a blur with that bitch’s voice reverberating in his skull. He hears Miroku’s voice, but he cannot focus on the words.  All he understands is hatred and disgust.  Everything he has worked for is worthless.  Is this the way it’s always going to be?

She finds him on the back porch, sitting on the stairs, staring blankly toward the sunset.  She sits beside him on the step and sighs. Her voice is weary.

“Miroku told me everything. I’m sorry that happened.”

“She wasn’t wrong.”

“What?” Her shock is more than evident.  She clutches his forearm with both hands and he can sense her tears beginning to form, “How can you say that?”

He doesn’t dare look at her, he knows it’ll ruin his resolve.  As low as he feels, he feels a ripple of anger brewing in his gut.  Eri’s words have been festering in his brain, allowing an old and familiar voice to break through.  He’s a half-breed, accepted but unlovable.  He’s stupid and useless, completely unworthy of happiness. He’s committed too many wrongs to ever deserve redemption.  It’s been a long time, but the feeling inside is one he’ll never forget.  He’s craving a high to numb this pain, this goddamn fucking anger.

“If you want that perfect life, you should take it.  I don’t want your fucking pity party.  I know you look down on me.  Poor Inuyasha and his asshole attitude.  The only time he’s bearable is when he’s high as a damn kite and that’s only because he doesn’t know up from fucking down.  Of course, the downside is that he might stop breathing.” He scoffs harshly, “Or, is that the upside?”

He knows his voice is bitter and that he’s gotten louder.  It’s echoing the one Eri used earlier.  He’s shaking from the anger, or is it something else?  This scene feels all too familiar, almost like déjà vu; but somehow, it’s different now.

“Inuyasha.  Stop.”

She’s pleading with him, her grip on his arm has gotten tighter.  He knows she’s weeping openly; he can scent her tears and hear the stutter in her breath.  It’s all too familiar.  After all, this is what he’s good at: making her cry.

“Doesn’t fucking matter I’ve been clean three years.  That’s all anyone will see, a fucking deadbeat addict.  You’d be better off with that doctor.  He can take care of you, pamper you.  He’ll be enough.  He’ll deserve you.  That’s not me.  That’ll never be me.  All I’ll ever be is a fuck-up.”

“Don’t.”

She whimpers and lets her grip loosen.  He’s sure she’s going to walk away, get back in her car and leave.  He keeps his stare steady on the sun that has almost completely slipped beyond the horizon.  There’s a war waging inside of him – his angels and demons come out to play.  Not for the first time, he bitterly wonders if this continued sobriety is worth it.  She’s going to leave, just as she should.

When her hand comes up and gently cups his cheek, he is completely undone.  She tenderly moves his face, but he keeps his gaze downcast.  Her hand is soft and warm to the touch as her thumb swipes away his tears.  Of course she’s staying.  Her bleeding heart won’t let her leave.  He cries for her, her lost opportunities, her damn sympathetic selflessness.  But she surprises him again in what she utters; and in her words, he finds hope.

“You have always been enough for me.  I have always seen you.  The you who loves me and would do anything to protect me.  The you who acts tough because you’re scared of rejection.  The you who wishes you could change the past. The you who is more determined and smarter than you realize.  The you who has worked hard to conquer those shitty demons inside.  That’s who I see.”

She sighs and he feels her whole body tremble.

“Every time you used, I was terrified.  I was so scared that you wouldn’t wake up one day, that you’d stop breathing, that your heart would fail.  That I would lose you.  It made me angry, it’s why I pushed you so hard.  I wanted you to get sober for me.”

He meets her eyes then, their pretty grey glimmers in what’s left of the sunlight through the sheen of her tears.  In them he finds no pity, only benevolence.  Everything she has said, he has heard her say before.  He’s read it before.  But this is why it isn’t a complete déjà vu, it’s different.  It’s different because they are different.  They have grown and she confirms it with her next statement.

“It was selfish.  I wanted you to get sober, but you needed to do it for yourself.”

He reaches up to grasp her wrist, lightly squeezing in lieu of all the words he wants to say.

She lets the corners of her mouth turn upwards ever so slightly.

“And you did.  You succeeded.  I don’t know what you’ve been through these last few years, and maybe I’ll never know, but what I do know is that you came home.  You did what you had to and came back to me, and I am prouder of you than you can ever imagine.”

She presses her lips to his forehead and gathers him in her arms.  He allows himself to take comfort in her embrace because comfort is not happiness and is not so easily taken away.

He goes back to her apartment with her that night.  Their apartment.  It looks the same as the day he left.  He is simultaneously comforted and haunted by the familiarity.  This place that they made home together.  Where they laughed and fought.  Where he wasted his nights and she cared for him.  This is where he had joy and lost it.  This is where he left her.

She putters around the kitchen, putting the kettle on for tea.  As she pulls two mugs from the cabinet, he realizes that they’re the matching set they painted for each other on a date some lifetime ago.  She sees the recognition in his stare and begins to speak.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed I kept everything the same.” She smiles timidly and her eyes are filled with earnest, “Everyone thought it was unhealthy, but it kept me sane.  They tried to convince me to move out of here, and I was adamant that I wouldn’t – couldn’t.  Because if you came home and found I wasn’t here, I wouldn’t have forgiven myself.”

She busies herself again, pulling out a tin of teabags and a sleeve of arrowroot cookies.

“And then as time went on and I started fearing the worst, I needed to hang onto my memories of you, of us.  So, everything stayed the same.  Even though I was moving forward with school and … eventually, Akitoki,” She glances downward, sheepish.  “Home was my constant.  It was me. It was you.  It was us.  It is us.”

He steps toward her. He has so many questions and a spark of hope is igniting in his veins.

“Why?”

The word hangs between them and he tries in vain to push that hope down, down, down.  It is such a simple word, and yet holds so much impact.

She lifts her eyes to meet his, grey colliding with amber, understanding pouring through.

“We met when I started my residency. He was a third-year.  At first, I didn’t pay him any mind, but he kept persisting.  Eventually I figured meeting for coffee wouldn’t hurt.” She pauses, reaching for his hand.  “You have to understand that you’d been gone for almost two years.  I was lonely.  And … and he was safe.”

She scoffs, grips his hand tighter, and leans fully on the counter.  

“He was a proper gentleman. Waited a month before he kissed me the first time, even asked permission before he did.  It was another month after that before we officially became boyfriend and girlfriend.  It was a bit of a surprise when he proposed on our anniversary.  Obviously, I said yes – you saw the ring.  Except, it felt wrong.  It was all wrong.  We hadn’t even talked about the future or even moving in together, hadn’t done more than kiss.  But I guess that’s part of propriety.  And yet, I said yes because it was safe, that stupid word.”

His mind is racing.  Safe is not a word he has ever been associated with. What does it even mean? He searches her face for a clue, and anxiously waits for her to continue.  This is a conversation they have not deigned to have yet in the three months since they’ve been friends again.  The kettle is boiling rapidly now, but he knows that it’ll automatically shut off.

“Then five months later, you called me and this feeling I hadn’t felt in so long came rushing back. You were alive.  It was like the clouds were finally parting after a heavy rain.  I didn’t know what to expect when I came to pick you up, and this tiny part of me told me not to go, but it was right.  I felt right again, but I was scared.  So I stayed away.  Then I heard from Sango and Miroku that you were working and doing well and I was missing out on that.  I broke off the engagement.  As much as he was sweet and safe … he wasn’t you.”

Tears are welling in her eyes and he feels his are getting misty as well.  He steps and pulls all in one motion, wrapping his arms around her tightly. His heart is pounding out of his chest and that spark of hope is now a flame.  

She draws in a haggard breath and mumbles against his chest.

He tilts his head down to look at her, silently pleading for her to repeat what she’s just said.  His ears picked up her message, but he needs to know for sure.

She tips her chin upwards and shyly brushes her lips against his and repeats herself a little more loudly, “I love you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Her eyes darken and she presses a kiss to his jaw.

“Because you’re you. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been away.”

He whimpers, “Kagome,”

She kisses him fully then, grasping his face to ensure he can’t pull away, not that he wants to.  His heart is exploding.  She has always been able to read him, know what he’s thinking. And she has always known what he needs most.  This kiss is full of promises, assurances.  This is real.

“You are important. You are loved.  You are worthy of it all.”

She guides him to her bedroom.  Their bedroom.  He sits on the edge of the bed in disbelief that he is back in this room.  He can hardly believe that this woman is standing before him with love in her eyes.  This amazing, beautiful, strong, resilient woman who is holding the door to happiness wide open.  He only has to cross the threshold.  He falters. Happiness is dangerous.  Happiness is temporary.  But she is here and he trusts her implicitly.  With her, happiness is feasible.

With one look into her deep stormy eyes, he makes a choice.

“Kagome.”

Her name.  The only word he seems capable of uttering.  In her name he promises to try.  Promises to treat her well, make up for the pain he has caused her.  Promises to try and see himself through her eyes.  Promises to be kinder to himself.  Promises to help build their life together back up.  He knows with her, they will succeed.

She caresses his face and drops her lips to meet his once again, resting her knees on either side of him. He clutches her waist and revels in the familiarity of her body pressed against his.  Their motions are slow, meticulous, not dictated by hormones and lust.  And they fall into a routine, a dance that hasn’t been done in years and yet they fall back into with practiced ease.

With every kiss she presses hotly into his skin, she whispers continuous affirmation.  

You are enough.

You are worthy.

You are mine.

I love you.

He finds words still impossible to formulate and voice, so he allows his actions to speak for him. Each caress, each kiss, each touch is full of reverence and adoration.  When he finally sinks into her and they become one, he truly feels like he is home.  And all of his feelings of unworthiness and self-loathing begin to ebb, for it is the love of this woman and her unwavering belief in him that he can begin to heal.

As they settle into each other, heavy with the lure of sleep, he whispers in her ear, “I love you.”

She nestles into him closer and kisses his wrist.

For the first time, in a very long time, he feels worthy.  

FINAL NOTES:

I wanted to mention some things as a bit of a debrief to this story, if you will. This is a story that is very personal for me and is quite heavy. Hopefully the ending was enough of a pleasant one to offset the weight a bit.

The way I designed this story, Inuyasha and Kagome are separated during the toughest part of his recovery. The decision to stay with or leave a partner with addiction is a difficult one and can be different for everyone, especially because addiction is so highly stigmatized. A lot of the time the person struggling already carries guilt. Addiction so very often stems from trauma, depression, and/or other forms of mental illness and these need to be addressed first.

Regardless of whether you stay or go, it is important to set boundaries for yourself. Addiction is often labeled as a third-party to relationships because it attempts to wear down the people involved and whittle them down to their weakest and worst. If you are supporting someone through addiction and an active part of their recovery, it is vital to remember self-care and recognize when you need to say no and that it is okay to do so. It is NOT your responsibility to "cure" them.

If you are somebody who cares for someone struggling with addiction, I am happy to share resources that I have found helpful if you would like to reach out.

On another note, I do have ideas about where and what Inuyasha was up to during his three-year absence. It would probably contain heavier content than this piece, but also be a bit more fantastical. If the inspiration hits or if there’s interest, I’ll probably try and write it. Anyway, comments and likes are love. Thank you so much for reading my return to fan fiction!

[joheunsaram]

To Make A Power Couple - 07 (knj)

Chapter 7: Blanket Forts

THIS IS A REPOST SINCE I LOST ACCESS TO MY OLD ACCOUNT. PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG FOR UPDATES ON THIS SERIES.

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Summary- At the hospital, Namjoon tries to make sense of what transpired as Y/N recovers.

word count- 6k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- R

genre- series, fluff, angst, action, strangers2lovers

warnings- violence, blood, stalker, hospital, extremely fluffy scenes of Joon as a caretaker

a.n- wow i literally wrote this the fastest i’ve written any chapter! i hope you like it. although there is angst there is also a lot of tooth rotting fluff. special s/o to @jungkooksbroski for beta reading this 💕

As always feedback appreciated. Send me an ask! 💌

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @sscheherazadee, @rjsmochii , @jinjccns​ , @joyful-jimin @sideblogger @agustdpeach @diamonddia-mond

—

Namjoon held your hand in both of his, his forehead resting upon them, as he waited for you to wake up from surgery, the beep of the heart monitor far too loud and ominous. His hood was on his head as his elbows dug into the ratty blue basketball shorts he had thrown on in a hurry. Even though the doctors had assured him that you were going to be fine, he was still worried. He couldn’t believe that you had gotten hurt at his own house of all places and he felt responsible as he replayed the scene in his head.

You looked so small next to the woman attacking you, it made his blood run cold. She was easily twice your size and the malice her gaze held was frightening. He barely registered her presence, how could she have been in his room the whole time he was home? Why didn’t he put his bags away so he could have caught her before she attacked? Why didn’t he hear someone else was home? He remembered hearing a noise while starting food prep and he assumed it was Moni just messing around. How stupid he had been. He was supposed to be your boyfriend, wasn’t it his responsibility to protect you?

He wasn’t even fast enough to pull her off you. He remembers time slowing down, his arms around the intruder as he tried his best to move her away but she seemed to be on a rampage, stomping on your arm. He remembers the moment her heavy boots almost flattened your arm. It was as if she wore them for the occasion. How did she even get in? He had never been happier to have Jungkook and Jimin around. If it weren’t for their help, he doesn’t even want to imagine how he would have managed. He could still feel the adrenaline in his body, hours later. The guards downstairs had been quick to arrive and he remembers sitting in his underwear trying to wake you up as he watched your arm twisted in an unnatural angle. Your scream still ricocheted through his head and he held your hand tighter, wishing you’d wake up already. The doctor had said it would take a couple of hours but he was on edge.

“But I love you!” the intruder had screamed as she was being dragged off by the guards and Namjoon hated his fame once again. He hated that it affected you, that it hurt you. If he was a nobody, you would’ve never been in this situation. You deserve someone who could hold your hand in public without fear that it might cause a controversy. Someone who you could show off at your events, someone you could travel with, someone who could take you out at normal hours to exhibits and didn’t have to sneak around with at concerts. Someone who screamed his love from rooftops, unlike him who only hid you away.

“Hyung. She’s okay. The doctor said she will be okay.” Jimin spoke softly, his arms around Namjoon’s shoulders as he hugged him back, feeling dizzy. Across from him Jungkook paced in the deluxe private hospital room that their company had reserved for them. The big room had a large bed, couch and television. Its warm wood furnishing and several fake plants were meant to emit a feeling of warmth but regardless of the size or decor, Namjoon felt like he was suffocating.

“She’s in surgery. Surgery. Because of me. Jimin what do I do?” He could feel a lump in his throat as he tried to stay strong. He knew logically that you would be fine, but all he could think was 1%. That’s what the doctor said the chance was of anything going wrong. He knew that millions of people broke their arms and were perfectly fine after a few months but you were his one in a million. The fact that he even met you was so random that he thought it fate. You always managed to do the impossible and in his emotional state that 1% chance was too large. Far too large.

Yoongi had arrived shortly after Jimin messaged the group about the home invasion and he stood next to Jimin and Namjoon, his hand on Namjoon’s shoulder as he tried to force him to drink water. The three men tried to reassure Namjoon in vain as he finally let go of Jimin to sit on the couch, his eyes glued to the door, pulling on the sleeves of his sweater as his leg bounced on its own accord.

After almost two hours he saw the door open as you were brought in on a stretcher, still asleep as the nurses moved you to the bed, checking your vitals. Yoongi had to physically restrain Namjoon from running over to you so the workers could do their job, but as soon as they were gone, he was by your side.

You were okay. Nothing went wrong and it felt like a boulder had been lifted off his shoulders as he all but collapsed, holding your hand, his head gingerly resting on your stomach. The boys bid him goodbye soon after making sure he was okay, giving the two of you privacy but ensuring Namjoon that their phones would be on them in case he needed someone with him. No one was getting sleep tonight.

Before Namjoon could let his negativity flood him further, he felt your hand twitch between his and he sat up, looking at your face intently as you finally opened your eyes looking at him groggily.

“Oh thank fuck!” He exclaimed, standing up without letting go of your hand, instead squeezing it tighter as he looked over at you. Your other arm was in a cast, laying over your stomach, both your eyes bruised and swollen underneath, your nose still red as you looked at him with wide eyes. His heart pained as he looked at the evidence of his failings, but for you he smiled, small and not reaching his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m sorry. Who are you?” you whispered, your voice hoarse. Namjoon felt his heart race, like it was going to fall out of his chest, panic slowly rising.

“Who…? You don’t know me?”

“Wait… aren’t you famous?” You asked again and he dropped your hand in shock, shaking as he rushed towards the door. Memory loss? That wasn’t a symptom they mentioned. You didn’t have a concussion and it scared him that the doctors missed something, fear making him almost sprint the short the distance.

“What the fuck? Okay. Don’t worry. I’m going to get the doctor!”

Before he could reach the door, he heard you giggle, turning around in disbelief as he heard your next words. “Joon! Stop! I was kidding!”

“You were kidding? You were KIDDING?!” He almost yelled, before checking himself. His mouth hung open for a moment as you watched him walk towards you slowly and standing over you, his brows scrunched into a pained expression on his face. “Red. Red, Y/N. You can’t joke right now, do you know how scared I was?” He whispered, sudden relief turning into exhaustion as he felt his knees almost buckle. He had never felt this overwhelmed before.

“Hey. Joonie, baby. I’m sorry.” You called to him gently, reaching for him, your fingers squeezing reassuringly around his forearm that hung next to you. Hearing him call red made you feel suddenly guilty. Even in your worst fights where you were both screaming at each other, the most either of you had called for was yellow. You had only wanted to lighten his mood, crack a joke to make him smile for real but your post-anaesthesia brain couldn’t come up with anything better.

“You’re sorry?” He looked at you incredulously before his long arms were placed gingerly around your waist as his head reached for the crook of your neck, resting there and he inhaled. You smelt different, like disinfectant and he hated it, feeling his lip quiver as he spoke against your skin in quick, flurried words.. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, baby. Fuck! Why are you even with me? I literally put your life in danger! You should break up with me! You’re gonna have a gigantic scar and like metal inside you forever! You deserve so much -”

“Oh man! A scar? Who’s gonna marry me now?” You interrupted his rant and tried to make your voice lighter, wanting to ease his worries, assure him that you were back to normal. You looked at your useless right arm, wishing you could hug him but settled for slowly running your fingers through his hair with your left to calm him down.

“I’ll marry you. I’ll do it right now!” He moved his head away from your neck, leaning his weight on his hands that now rested next to you on the bed, looking at you intensely. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears and you felt your heart break. You cupped his face, your thumb stroking his cheek as you tried to comfort him.

“Come here. Lie down.” You winced a little as you scooted to the side despite his protests, making room for him. He reluctantly laid down, his head in the crook of your arm and his feet dangling off the end of the bed. You slowly caressed his shoulder and felt him relax as he nuzzled the side of your chest, his arm draping over your hips carefully. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. You’re the one that’s hurt.” His voice was small, muffled against you as his thumb traced meaningless patterns against you where it lay.

“Baby you literally asked me to break up with you and marry you in the same breath - you are not fine.” You spoke softly, your hand squeezing his shoulder as he took a shuddering breath. You looked at the dim tv that had the hospital’s menu channel on, displaying the time, 3:21 am. He argued not to worry about him, but you couldn’t help it. He had never looked more exhausted in your presence - even after twelve hours of dance practice on three hours of sleep, he didn’t look this drained. Your fingers moved upwards lightly scraping his scalp, his arm tightening around you, as you spoke. “I love you, you know that right?”

He sniffled, the hospital gown getting damp as he told you about his earlier worries. You hushed him, comforting him with words and coaxing him to sleep. His hand wrapped around the index finger poking out of your cast as he fell asleep after a while, his snores music to your ears. No matter what he believed, you still felt safe with him next to you.

———————————-

You looked at the soft light of dawn as it flows through the window, trying not to move as your arm throbbed in the cast. In the few hours since he fell asleep, Namjoon’s head had moved, now resting on your chest as his arm was draped over your hips, but he looked so peaceful that you dared not wake him up. You barely slept, your pain medication wearing off much too quickly. You had never broken a bone before, and as you thought about how dumb your fifth grade self was for wanting a cast, you wished your boyfriend would wake up at his own accord. You desperately needed to call the nurse for some paracetamol, but you grit your teeth and bore it. You knew you were being stupid and Namjoon would be genuinely pissed if he knew, but looking at his mouth hanging open as he drooled over you made you smile at the endearing picture infront of you.

Unfortunately (or fortunately?), soon a nurse walked in for his morning rounds, waking up a groggy Namjoon who startled, almost falling off the bed, making you hiss as he accidentally held on too hard to your side to keep balance. He stood up, running his hands over his face in order to wake up properly while the nurse did the checkup, providing you with the pain killers you request. Once he leaves, Namjoon moves back to you, putting his arm under your head as this time you nuzzle into his chest. You talked about nothing as the drugs finally took effect, helping you doze off. Namjoon kissed the top of your head as you dropped off mid sentence, a smile on his face because you were alright, but a heaviness in his heart as he looked at the bruises on your face, dark blue and almost black.

———————————-

“Shh… Guys come on. Let her rest!”

Namjoon’s theatrical whisper is the first thing you hear when you wake up again. Your eyes open to your room filled with all your friends. The room had seemed extremely large the last time you were awake but now it seemed tiny. Jiyoung was sitting on the couch typing on her phone with a frown, an Apeach plush on her lap, next to her Siwon was talking animatedly with a tired looking Jungkook munching on some chips. The coffee table in front of them was full of snacks, gifts, and flowers. Seokjin, Yoongi and Jimin were talking about something hushed as they stood near the television, serious looks on their faces. Hoseok was bent over the humidifier in the corner which seemed turned off, messing with the controls and grumbling to himself. Harry sat in the chair next to the bed, talking to Namjoon with Jen standing over him with her hand on his shoulder. Namjoon sat on the bed near your legs, his hand on your calf, and Taehyung sat next to him clinging on his waist. Needless to say, it warmed your heart to see all the people you loved here. Maybe getting injured wasn’t that bad.

You winced as you moved up the bed to get more comfortable and suddenly all the attention was on you, the room turning into a cacophony of “How are you feeling?”s and “Are you okay?”s. Everyone was now crowded around the bed, looking at you with worry, Seokjin even handing you the RJ plush he’d brought along with him stating its healing powers. It was odd to be coddled by such a large group. Overwhelming, but in the best way.

“I’m fine guys. It’s just a broken arm.” You tried to diffuse the worries.

“You should look at your face dude.” Siwon stated, causing Namjoon to sigh, annoyed, and you to ask for a mirror. Oof you looked worse than you felt. By the bruises on your face it was a wonder how your nose wasn’t broken. Sheepishly you tried to explain to the group that it wasn’t that bad, but your friends were not convinced.

Soon the conversation turned from worries about you to who the attacker was in the first place. While you and Namjoon were in the hospital, Jungkook and Jimin had been to the police to give in-depth statements. Turns out Namjoon had a stalker - someone the company and security had been keeping an eye on for months, but who seemed to have fallen off the map 6 weeks ago. Apparently the same one who had caused the dates at the beginning of your relationship to always be under the watchful eye of his security team. No one knows how she had managed to break into the dorms but apparently she had been hiding out in his room for a week, his closet was full of tins of food she had consumed during her stay. It was surreal to hear that someone had been in the house and no one had noticed. It made sense to an extent - no one had been actively living in the dorms for a few weeks, especially not Namjoon so his room was never opened. The boys seemed extra distressed about it, and even thought themselves guilty. Namjoon’s words from last night echoed in your head. He put himself at fault, when really it was this woman’s fault.

No one knew what her plan was when Namjoon returned, and you didn’t want to find out. It might seem odd but you were glad that you were there to protect him in a sense. Apparently seeing you had started such a rage in her that she refused to talk further than the death threats she spewed against you. She was in jail and you hoped she stayed there for a long time.

“The police haven’t taken into account your assault. You should file a report.” Hoseok spoke for the first time, his face hardened. The room seemed in agreement, but you hesitated.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea…” you started, only for Namjoon, who was now seated next to you on the bed with his arm around you, to counter but you continued. “I’m just saying. Police records are public and if someone looks into this person who was charged with stalking Joon the same night as attacking me, they might put two and two together and I don’t want that to reflect on him or any of you guys.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Y/N?” It was Yoongi who spoke, clearly irritated and impatient. “Who cares about that? She attacked you, she deserves to be in jail.” His voice was quiet, but the frustration in his tone was not lost.

“She’s already in jail though… It’s not gonna make a difference.”

“Noona… I know it’s not our decision but you didn’t see yourself when she was attacking you.” Jungkook’s voice wavered as he looked at you with hurt in his eyes. “She deserves to pay for what she did…”

“Guys… I know you want the best for me, but it’s too risky… Even you all being here right now is too risky!” It was time for your voice to waver as you suddenly realized the impact of having all of them in the room. All it took was one shitty quality photo from a nurse’s Samsung to ruin their image. You didn’t know how you’d be able to handle it if you were responsible for their first big scandal.

“Okay. I’m going to stop you right there. This is a private place we always use. This is not a risk.” Seokjin spoke slowly, enunciating each word as if trying to explain the situation to a five year old. He didn’t do it in a condescending manner, more to make you understand. “Please stop worrying about us. Our company has stopped way bigger scandals from surfacing. Namjoon, can you please make her understand?”

Namjoon sighed loudly next to you, his arm tightening around you to pull you closer. It felt comforting, but you still felt slightly cornered. You just couldn’t see the logic in what they were saying. The attacker’s jail time would probably not change much with an assault added, at least you didn’t think so - so why was this a big deal.

“It’s her choice, hyung. I’m not going to force her to press charges if she doesn’t want to.” Namjoon looked steely at his member, before turning to you and softening. “But Y/N, I really do want you to make that decision without thinking of me or the rest of us. Can you do that?”

“No. Sorry. I can’t.” You were adamant and now you were starting to get annoyed. Namjoon was right - it was your choice - and it felt nice to have him on your side, at least partially, through this argument, but it didn’t make sense not to make it an isolated discussion. “You’re part of the situation and I can’t just make the decision without adding you to it. I’m not pressing charges.”

You heard a loud snort from Yoongi. “Why are you being an idiot?” He spoke to which Hoseok vocally agreed, causing you to almost yell your explanation in exasperation, before Harry broke the argument asking everyone to take a break and to lay off you.

There was thick tension in the room and it seemed to have sapped the air out of you. You felt uneasy, like no matter how deeply you inhaled you were breathless. You felt claustrophobic suddenly, squeezing Namjoon’s thigh, trying to control your heartbeat. Namjoon saw the distress on your face, immediately requesting everyone to move outside. It didn’t take them long to leave and somehow that helped you feel calmer.

When the room was empty, Namjoon looked at you. Turning to him, you buried your face in his chest, squishing the white alpaca between you and moving your injured arm on his stomach to hug him, despite the sharp pain that made you hiss. Breathing in his scent, somehow made the stress of last night catch up to and you cried. Namjoon held your head gently to his chest as you tangled your legs in his, wanting to almost disappear into him. You didn’t know why you were suddenly crying, but you couldn’t help it - it was like a dam broke, like you were leaking, your emotions cascading out of you onto Namjoon’s sweater. You couldn’t control your sobs and you wondered how loud you were being.

Namjoon felt his heart break as he held you. He had only seen you cry like this once -  the night he asked you to be his girlfriend - and it pained him that he was partially responsible for your tears today. He didn’t know what to do other than whisper “you’re safe now” repeatedly against your hair as you clung to him clumsily. He shouldn’t have let everyone visit so soon. He should’ve thought ahead. Of course you were overwhelmed, you were traumatized. He was an idiot.

When you calmed down enough to look at him, he wiped your tears gently, barely even touching your skin, and handed you some water from the bedside table. He tried to assure you the best he could, interrupted intermittently by nurses and discharge forms. He didn’t bring up pressing charges again and you were grateful to him for that.

He helped you change into clothes Siwon had picked up for you, insisting you take the wheelchair to the car despite your protests (“My arm’s broken, not my leg Joonie!”). Before you entered your apartment Namjoon asked his security team to do a sweep. You would never admit it to him but having the place checked out before you entered made you extremely relieved. You knew it was irrational to think you’d have another stalker waiting for you but it genuinely made you feel lighter, your anxiety ebbing away.

He spent the next few hours quietly worrying about little things, changing the code to your door, checking every lock, making you tea, and even cleaning your place to ensure you had “optimum comfort”, while forcing you to stay in bed regardless of your protests. After a while you couldn’t take him running around and murmuring to himself, especially when he decided to order from six restaurants for dinner. Walking into the kitchen where he obsessively cleaned a single spot on the countertop, you pulled him away.

“Joonie. Stop.” you gently touched his hand, startling him anyways as he looked at you in alarm.

“Oh. Do you need anything? Tell me, I’ll get it. Water? Bathroom?” He bent down slightly to look you in the eyes, searching your face for any discomfort.

“Namjoon, I have a broken arm, I’m not an invalid.” You rolled your eyes. It was sweet that he was this concerned but you seriously needed him to stop running around worried.

“Wait, you said Namjoon. Are you mad at me?” He looked alarmed, his eyes wide. Now that you looked at him closely, he didn’t seem to be doing too well either. His eyes seemed sunken behind his glasses, the crease between his eyebrow deep, and his stubble growing out more than you’d ever seen. You wondered if he got much sleep after you dozed off this morning. He even seemed skinnier somehow, though you chalk that up to your imagination.

“No baby I’m not mad at you. Just stop… obsessing. I’m fine. I swear.” You cupped his face with your working hand, thumb circling his cheekbones in an effort to relax him. He leaned in closing his eyes.

“Oh… oh. I just want to show you I love you. You know like you do…” He mumbled in a slight pout, averting your gaze.

“What are you talking about?”

“You always take care of me when I’m down. I want to take care of you.” You felt your heart glow in your chest. Sometimes you forget how much you love this man, but sometimes he says things that, for a lack of a better analogy, punch you in the face, reminding you why you love him. You wrap your arm around his waist, nuzzling your face into his chest, as he tentatively puts his arm around your head.

“You don’t need to deep clean my kitchen to take care of me babe. Just sit next to me. Let’s watch a movie.” You lean away from his chest to tell him, trying to tug his unmovable body towards the living room.

“Are you sure? I’m almost done. Just this one stain…” He lets go of you to grab the wipe again, only for you to pull at his hand.

“Joon. Leave it.” You say sternly, holding his hand as you lean up. “Kiss me.”

“What? No. You’re hurt.” He moves back and you have to convince your irrational feelings that he wasn’t rejecting you, he was worried about you.

“If it hurts, I’ll tell you.”

“No you won’t. I know you.”

“Joonie!” you whine and he relents, although it’s not a kiss you were hoping for. He settles for a series of small pecks against your lips, so light that you barely felt him. Sure even puckering your lips was slightly painful but you were annoyed, rolling your eyes at his lame attempt. And this was the man who had spanked you so hard once that you couldn’t sit without wincing for two days. The audacity.

Before you could protest he walked with you to the living room and turned on Netflix. Picking a brainless comedy, you forced him to lie down on your lap and even before the title had come up he was asleep.

———————————-

“What wrong baby?” Namjoon came from the studio to find you lying on the ground still dressed in your pajamas with half your hair tied lopsidedly as you whined at seemingly no one, ignoring Moni as he licked your face. If he wasn’t worried that you somehow fell, he would find the sight of you throwing a tantrum like a toddler adorable.

It had been three days since you returned from the hospital, but Namjoon hadn’t seen you looking this dejected before. You had been completely normal on Sunday, even agreeing to the guys coming over for dinner so they could apologize for their behaviour at the hospital. You had riffed like usual, making fun of Jin and Yoongi as they cooked even though it seemed like you itched to get in the kitchen and help, even getting especially giddy as your childhood dream of getting a cast signed by your friends was fulfilled. The next two days, despite everyone’s insistence you had returned to work, working from home. Fortunately Harry and Siwon had rescheduled or taken over all your client meetings to lighten your load. Namjoon had returned to work too but made sure to text you throughout the day and had spent every night with you, regardless of your protests of being an “independent woman that needs no man”.

“I hate this! I’m so frustrated! I feel useless and gross!” you whined as you thrash around on the floor comically with the biggest pout he had ever seen you sport. Dropping his bag near the door and trying not to chuckle at your cute behaviour, Namjoon walked over to you kneeling next to you.

“Aww baby come here” He opened his arms invitingly as you sat up, only for you to sit crossed leg in front of him to begin your rant. Moni moves between your legs and you scratch his head absent-mindedly.

“No! I can’t attend any meetings till my face doesn’t look like fight club, I can’t shower for two more days, I can’t cook because of this dumbass arm, I can’t even tie my hair! TIE MY HAIR, JOON. I’M UGLY, USELESS AND DISGUSTING. Please leave me in my misery.”

Your face turned red as you continued listing minor inconveniences that your broken arm bestowed upon you as Namjoon made his way behind you and put his arms around your waist, his chin on your shoulder in an effort to calm you down. Instantly you relax, huffing as you leaned into his chest. Today has been tough for you. You had spent two hours on a call relaying your game plan for a potential client to Harry and walking him through his nerves about the meeting, which drained you mentally. Your laptop had restarted two times without warning, your roomba had gotten stuck under the couch and you couldn’t reach for it, you had almost fallen in the toilet because the seat was up, you ran out of coffee, and to top it all off it took you ages to write anything with your left hand alone. You felt miserable and dejected.

“You’re beautiful. My slightly stir-crazy, extremely capable, beautiful girlfriend.” Namjoon kissed your cheek as you turned your head to scowl at him, not buying his flattery. He traced your features gently. He wasn’t lying, even with your face patchy with your yellowing bruise and a scab on your lip, you were beautiful to him and he felt his heart swell the longer he looked at your face. He still had trouble believing that you were with him.

“You’re only saying that cause you love me.” You whisper softly as you avert his gaze before starting to whine again as you adjusted your sling. “Ugh I just want to eat McDonald’s and die.”

“Not going to let you die, but let’s get nuggets.”

———————————-

“Baby I got us Chinese!” Namjoon called out as he walked in your home, hands full of takeout. Hearing no answer he called out again to hear your voice coming from the bedroom.

“Joonie! Crawl under here!” He saw you emerge clumsily from the floor, cast pulled close to your chest, as he entered the room where you had piled the blankets between the edge of the bed and the chairs that you had brought near it. “I made us a fort!”

Your giggles made his heart sing as he grinned and crawled under the fort, taking care not to knock it down. You had brought the lamp from the side table under as well, lighting the small space with a soft glow. He could barely sit up, his height making it difficult not to knock down your creation so he opted for laying down, his head on your thigh as you played with his hair. He sighed in content. It felt somewhat meditative sitting in silence with you under the many sheets, the pile of soft pillows in the corner adding extra coziness.

Soon you’re laying side by side, your fingers intertwined as you bounced your hands against each other. You were both looking at the makeshift comforter ceiling, soft smiles on your faces.

“Why the sudden fort?” Namjoon asks after a while, almost in a whisper, not wanting to break the spell of comfort you both were under.

“I don’t know… It’s stupid.” He turns on his side to face you, cupping your face to make you look at him. It’s the look he always gives you whenever you doubt yourself. A look that says I’m here for you, I’ll never judge you. “I used to build these when I was a kid and missed my mom… I guess I’m feeling kind of homesick. I know it’s dumb.” You chuckle a little at how childish your comments seemed. You were almost thirty and talking about missing your mom.

Namjoon hadn’t thought of this before - the fact that Seoul wasn’t truly your home. Sure you had introduced your mom to him over Skype a few times but he thought about how much he missed Seoul when on tour, did you miss Toronto that way too? You always seemed so content in Seoul, so content with your friends that he never thought about how your family wasn’t there.

“We can go visit home if you want?” He kisses your lips chastely as he continues, his nose nuzzling yours. “I can take a few days off. I’d like to meet your mom in person.”

“We don’t have to. I’m just being a baby.” You laughed as you moved closer and he put his arm under your head to pull you into his chest. You knew this bout was homesickness was temporary, but Namjoon’s words made your heart glow in your chest. It had been two weeks since your attack and although Namjoon had been a rock, helping you with everything from ensuring that you ate to shaving your under arms, you were nostalgic about when you were sick during high school and your mom would take the day off work to take you on a drive, buying you ice cream and snacks that definitely did not help your illness. His idea wasn’t a bad one but with how your injury had messed up your work schedule, you didn’t think you could take time off for a while, and you told him as much. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence again after that, dinner forgotten on the kitchen counter, as you laid under the blankets soaking in the cozy atmosphere.

Caressing your hip slowly where your shirt ended, Namjoon cleared his throat slightly, breaking the spell before he spoke in another whisper. “I could be your home… if you want.”

Moving your head from his chest you look up to find him gazing at you with a soft smile as he turns on his side again. You follow suit, the fingers of your uninjured hand tracing his chest where it stuck between the two of you. Your heart beat faster as you slowly comprehended what he meant, but you still needed him to clarify. “What do you mean?”

“Do you want to move in together?” Namjoon was nervous - more nervous than he had been on your first date, more nervous than he had been when he asked you to be his girlfriend, more nervous than he had been after your first fight. The last two weeks had been some of his favourite with you, regardless of the circumstances that landed him there. He liked coming home to you every night, arguing over what to have for dinner, waking up each morning with his arms around you. You technically didn’t need him around anymore, your schedule was back to normal and you were more than used to navigating with one hand, but he didn’t want to go back to seeing you once or twice a week. How could he do that when he could see you everyday? The domesticity of your morning routines of coffee and reading the news together that had once scared him, were things he craved now. He even loved your playlist of the week startling him awake.

Your prolonged silence made his heart race as he bit his lip in anticipation. Before he could take back his question with a joke, you kissed him. Your lips molded around his tenderly as you took his lower lip between yours, relishing his strawberry lip balm. You break the kiss to whisper a soft yes, barely audible over the sound of your heart in your ears, and Namjoon couldn’t help breaking into a fit of giggles, his forehead against yours as he pulled you closer. He tried to control his reaction but the happiness flowing through him made him feel like he was floating.

“And they were roommates!” You made the dated reference as you giggled along with him.

“You are such a dork. I love you.” He said as he brought his lips back on yours.

“Yeah, your dork!”

“All mine.” He smiled, his eyes disappearing as his cheeks hurt from the joy he felt.

–

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[ratanslily]

Irreplaceable

pairing: bryce lahela x f!mc (Dr. Theia Valentine)

genre: angst but with happy ending.

about the fic: im just giving bryce's premium scene some closure ♡

inspo: this post by @ofpixelsandscribbles

a/n: I've never written for my mc before oof i hope i did her justice!! honestly this fic was so rushed (like all my fics lmao, i write on impulse, not meticulous planning and its a self indulgent fics so i dont rlly expect people to read because i kinds wrote it for my own sanity)

"We should do this much, much more often"

"Agreed."

Bryce looked around the on-call room. So much changed, the beds, the technology,  the lights... and maybe them. or maybe he was the one who changed.

Theia smiled and took his hand in his, beckoning him to accompany him back to the party. He slowly removed her hand away from his and took a step back. his face grew serious as he said,

"its.. probably not a good idea"

"why?"

"its just.. I don't know.. just go ahead, without me, I dont want to draw attention to us."

Theia could tell there was much more to Bryce's strange behaviour. Ever since they started their third year, she could see something was wrong with him, something was troubling him. but when they'd get intimate, all worries would go away and he'd get back to his normal self.

so what happened?

"so it's all a game to you, isn't it?"

"wh-what?"

"you don't need me.. you just want me to satisfy your needs"

"liste-"

"No, Dr. Lahela.  listen to me.", Theia raised her voice as her eyes started glistening with fresh tears.

"was it all a game to you? I thought we had something special.. something unique.. something homely.. when you dropped your fries just to kiss me..when you comforted within these same 4 walls, when we longed to feel each other when I was sick, when you walked me home after the funeral.. I guess I was a fool, I was just a distraction to you, wasn't it?"

she turned on her heels and made way to the door. Before her hands could even touch the handle, she felt Bryce's shaking hand on her shoulder.

"Theia.. please. please stay."

"what for?"

as much as she wanted to resist, she turned back to find Bryce on the verge of tears, with a face full of longing for her.

---

Bryce never hated anything more than the sight of Theia in pain. tonight, he made her cry.

He never meant to hurt her. but he always knew this day would come, especially since they started their third ywar of residency. He knew she and him would end up on different paths.

so why try? why grow close, just to fall apart? kiss, just to say goodbye? make memories, just to move on and forget them?

but he fell,  he fell hard for her. against his best wishes. he found himself caring more for her rather than himself. he found her tears as his own. maybe more painful than his own. when he found her alone on the floor, crying all by herself, he couldnt stop himself from comforting her, feeling the same hurt as she did. they grew closer faster than he imagined, but he loved every second of their relationship.

the day he saw Theia behind the glass walls, trying to reach for him, he aligned his hand on hers, with a glass wall between them. he needed her more than ever in that moment. that night, when he sat by her side, close but not close enough, he felt it.

he felt it surging thru his veins.

he felt love.

but he didnt admit it, for the fear of rejection.

he thought of himself as someone who was easily replaceable, someone who was just a second option to others, never the priority.

little did he know, all Theia wanted is, him by her side, no one else. She never thought of him as the second option, but as the only option.

---

Theia softened at the sight of him holding back his tears and silently cursed herself for being the reason behind his tears.

"im sorry for being so loud, but tell me one thing, Bryce. Do you even need me anymore?"

her words struck him right in the heart.

"if you dont have any answer, I'll go. I'll never bother you again.."

He looked right into her eyes, feeling more vulnerable than ever.

As the tears gently rolled down his cheek, he said,

"I need you, Theia. I need you by my side. I need you to be by my side at every moment of my day, not just at fancy rich parties, but by my side when i wake up to find you curled up in the sheets,  when I make coffee for us and you scoff at the amount of sugar i put in our latte, when there's something on my cheek during lunch and you offer to kiss it off. when i have trouble sleeping at nights and you offer to cuddle me until i feel safe. when i hate the movie you pick, and doze off with my head of your shoulder. I would always need you. But.. what if.. one day.. we don't need each other anymore?"

"what if one day.. say when you've completed your third year here and get a job in a place far away, away from me, away from us. what if there's no "us" anymore? what if you find someone better? what if one day, i end up badly heartbroken, if you ever do so? better keep my distance to lessen the pain, isnt it? Im replaceable, after all."

She couldn't believe the words he said, the feelings he was going through. She felt more horrible than ever for lashing out at him when he felt all of this.

She held his hand, and guided him to one of the beds.  they sat down together,  with her head on his shoulders. Tonight, roles were reversed, she was the one comforting him.

"I didn't know you felt all of this, and im sorry that I misjudged your behaviour."

she rubbed his arms, soothingly and continued,

"I dont know how to tell you this, but i can never go away from you, ever. for physically we may be apart but emotionally and mentally,  i find my home and my residence in your heart. I just-"

she took a deep breath.

"I just love you so much. I dont want you to drift apart from me. and from us. I maybe  a doctor and such sentimental stuff may sound crazy, coming outta my mouth but, I just want to make one thing clear."

she carefully removed her head from his shoulders and turned to look at him.

"Dr. Bryce Lahela, your name is engraved in my every heartbeat. Other people may try to change it, but I know they're gonna fail, as I don't love anyone else apart from you. Do i make this clear?"

Bryce's lips curled into his classic beautiful smile as he started to speak, but Theia cut him off.

"and you better not call yourself replaceable next time, or im gonna punch you so hard."

she playfully punched him, earning a hearty laugh from him.

"Now, now Valentine, would you give me the mic to talk?"

She nodded and he continued.

"I don't think I expected a love confession to be in the very room we hooked up, ans honestly its kind of iconic, though i expected a few roses and all that glam..."

".. but you're enough to make my heart leap with joy. No roses needed, no chocolates required."

he took a moment to choose his words,

"I may be good at giving prep talks and all that stuff, but wow, I suck at this. Its probably cause i never did this before.. so let me get to it.. I love you too, Theia."

Theia crashed her lips into his for a fulfilling kiss as they both shared tears of joy,  finally confessing their love after 2 years of pure longing and messing around.

"Whew, who thought these simple 4-5 words would be so hard to say?"

She simply nodded as she wrapped her hands around his for those precious moments of bliss and joy.

yes, the walls, the beds, the room and the infrastructure around them changed, but they were still the same 2 people as from before,  with the same love and feelings in their heart.

and no amount of change could ever change that.