#that's not to mention for a grand majority of the dream i was walking around headless and people were going Are You Okay? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thesummerpetrichor · 1 year ago

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𝓥𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓸 𝓰𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓼

Dads best friend!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Summary: For years he’d lived in your head like a distant memory. Something too good, too far away to attain. You shouldn’t be so hurt he’d left his old life behind, but how could you not be, when you had been such a big part of it? But you can’t hold a grudge. Not when he’s standing in front of you– doing everything to prove he’s not a stranger.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, dads best friend trope, morally questionable relationship, minor angst, chunky age gap [reader is in her 20s Javi is in his 40s], banter, lotsa sweet moments, explicit language, explicit sexual content, couch sex, inebriated sex, cigarette and weed smoking, alcohol, dom!javi, sub!reader, pet names [cariño, baby, babygirl etc.], dirty talk, major praise kink! [lotsa good girl action iykwim] some over the clothes action, grinding, fingering, unprotected P in V [ do better!!]. Let me know if I missed anything!! <;3

Word count: 12.8k oops

A/N: Oof this took longer than I thought it would but I’m so excited for you to read it. Javier is the man of my dreams here 🥺. lotsa porn for you nasties. morally questionable relationship fr but it’s fiction so we’ll forgive Javi. I hope you darlings enjoy! Mwah 💗

Masterlist

Swinging in the backyard

Pull up in your fast car

Whistling my name

Open up a beer

And you say, "Get over here

And play a video game"

The last time you saw him you remember all but tackling him to the ground as he walked through your front door. He had bought you a special edition copy of your favourite Hans Christian Anderson fairy tale, and DVDs of ‘film noir’ movies– the kind your dad didn’t like you watching. You spent the days reading as he smoked cigars by your pool, and you remember your father joking about his ‘bad influence’ as he poured you drinks in the evenings.

That was several years ago, and now all you had left of him was a hazy memory of that distant summer, a fading image of his golden eyes glittering in the setting sun, and your copy of “The Little Mermaid”. That had been the last that he’d visited you– before his work got in the way, before he decided he’d rather stay in Bogotá than come home.

Your life had gone on, and while every year you wondered whether he’d make his grand appearance, as you grew older you came to terms with the realisation that it would just be you and your old man lounging on the patio on those treasured, warm, golden evenings. At university you were pursuing those dreams you always wanted to, the ones your father wasn’t so keen on you chasing, the ones you’d confess to him when he would drive you around the city– to that faraway ice cream place no one else would take you to.

He was all cigarettes and whiskey and secret promises.

“He’ll literally kill us, it's midnight.” It was too late, he was grabbing his keys and jacket, and despite your better judgement the thought of the fairy lights by the beach as you walked with your mint chocolate chip cones had you giggling as you followed him out the door. It was your 18th birthday. “He doesn’t need to know now, does he, cariño?”

He’d telephone your father once in a while, you knew because your house would fill with laughter only invoked by one culprit. You wondered what adventures he was on, were they like the ones he’d tell you as you sat by his side till the early hours of the morning? You wondered if he even remembered– remembered you.

But now you were in Bogotá, in the sweltering June heat, suitcase in hand, scanning the crowd for a face you barely remembered. You were scared, stupidly so, worried that your physical proximity would do nothing to mend his distance. You worried he wouldn't see you as he did before, wouldn't remember your inside jokes, your mischief, how you’d beg him to take you to that dance bar because your dad didn’t like you going alone. That he had somehow morphed into someone you couldn't recognize. You felt hot all over once again, and this time no thanks to the summer sun.

Your head turned left to right, and you spotted among the crowd families reuniting, couples kissing hello, young people returning home, lone travellers, lonely travellers, and in the hustle bustle a black leather jacket walking briskly towards you. He looked older, and tired, but his eyes still sparkled the way you remembered, still turned golden when they met the sun. From the distance he spotted you, and you watched expectantly as his furrowed brows relaxed into a calm, almost surprised expression. You felt a little short of breath, felt suddenly larger than life, as he neared you, your mind spinning and hoping, praying that he was still the man you knew.

“What have you done with my cariño?”

He was looking down at you with that same smile. Everything about him was really the same. He still smelt like tobacco and cedarwood perfume, still wore the same leather jacket, the same faded, button up shirt– with the first two buttons undone. In a moment you felt your mind's eye reconstruct those waning images of him you once cherished, from the dells of memory. And now you saw him vividly, reclining in his chair, sipping his whiskey, leaning on your porch, hair falling in his face in soft curls as he lit his cigarette.

He was a lot more handsome than you recalled.

“Hi” You were smiling so wide your face hurt, and despite the years of his absence there was a familiarity you found comfort in, a sense of belonging, and maybe naively… longing. His hands moved to grab you by the shoulders, and he stepped back to get a good look at you, almost examining how time had passed. “Lookat’ ya, university girl now huh, smart cookie?” The way he looked at you had your heart pitter pattering– with so much pride, and gentleness, and adoration.

Without any hesitation he pulled you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms, holding your head against him. Waves of calm washed over you, an immediate reassurance you were desperate for. It was his non reluctance, his lack of worry, the way he brought you into his arms like nothing else mattered. With a heavy sigh you collapsed into him, all the uneasiness you felt before melting away as you melted into his touch. He felt warm, and strong, and like you’d remembered.

He was everything you’d remembered.

You felt yourself relax. It had been a long day, a long time getting away from your father, who, despite the fact that you had been living alone for years now, had called you about a thousand times – reminding you to take all your things, to be careful, and importantly to not get into any trouble.

If there was one thing everyone knew about Javier, it was that he was trouble, trouble, trouble.

He was still smiling when he gently pulled away, still looking at you with the same enthusiasm. He was happy to see you. He chuckled as he let go of your shoulders, and you felt your chest swarm with butterflies when he grabbed you by the hand and twirled you around, and in typical Javier fashion produced a white lily from his shirt pocket, and tucked it behind your ear.

“Welcome to Bogotá cariño”

You felt your cheeks heat. For as long as you could remember you pretty much idolised him, and the longer you didn’t see him the more distant and adored he had become. You had worked that distant memory up so much, the memory of that fateful summer, that he’d come to be a symbol of fear and dread in your head. At least until that moment.

You felt silly for ever thinking he’d be different. And there he was, standing right in front of you, putting flowers behind your ear. You mumbled a soft thank you, securing the lily, which was inadvertently an excuse not to meet his overwhelming gaze.

“Your old man give you a hard time on the way up?”

You laughed as you rolled your eyes. If there was one person who knew how much of a stickler for organisation and responsibility your father was, it was him. “He gave me an entire list of things to not do”. Javier’s deep baritone joined your laughter, and he shook his head in faux irritation at the mention of his best friend.

Reaching down for your bags he leaned beside your ear, and you felt your heart race when you turned your head ever so slightly to meet his gaze– at that glimmer in his eyes, his mischievous smile, and raised brow.

“Well, he’s no fun now, is he?”

And with that he was heading towards the exit.

—

I'm in his favourite sundress

Watchin' me get undressed

Take that body downtown

I say, "You the bestest"

Lean in for a big kiss

Put his favourite perfume on

Go play your video game

“He says I'm like you, y’know?” You leaned your elbow on the open window, knees to your chest as you sat curled up in the passenger seat of his car. His eyes were on the road, but his attention remained on you, and you were instantaneously reminded of your trips to the pier, your mint chocolate chip ice creams, and innocent secrets.

You felt warm and fuzzy inside, and your eyes wandered the beautiful Colombian city –the colours, and the smell of summer flowers, and food as it wafted out of the mom and pop restaurants you passed.

“Yeah, you a troublemaker?” He glanced at you momentarily, just in time to catch you rolling your eyes. “”M not, but he thinks Dora’s wreckless for wandering around without her parents.`` His laugh was hearty and he had that smile, that tilt of his head you were sure had all the women around him swooning. You felt your cheeks heat at the thought, especially when he chided you. “Cariño” he dragged out every syllable of that treasured pet name, shaking his head, and raising his brows in your direction, teasingly. “Okay.. maybe I like to have a little fun, but I’m still not like you.”

Letting out an exaggerated gasp his head whipped towards you. “Fuck’s that supposed to mean?!” Your head was buzzing, he's still the same, the same.

“I’m good.” He rounded the corner, and you couldn’t help but wonder who else had been in the passenger side of his car, getting this view you so cherished. You didn’t know why you cared, or why you were even wondering in the first place. It wasn’t any of your business, but somewhere deep down it made your heart ache.

“I know you are honey.. Thought your dad was gonna’ have a fuckin’ heart attack when he called me.” You could only imagine. The poor man. The thought of him persuading Javier to convince you to stay with him for the sake of his peace of mind making you giggle.

“Can you blame him? It was either you or Maria, and somehow you're the better of the two evils.” When you decided to come to Bogotá you originally planned to stay with one of your close friends from university. She had offered you a room in her apartment for as long as you needed. The both of you had applied for the same summer program, and were looking forward to spending your vacation together. That was before you confessed that a certain somebody also lived in Bogotá. A somebody you weren’t initially keen on meeting again. Somebody you had planned to avoid at any cost during your stay.

You weren’t really sure why– if you wanted to keep him away out of spite, or convenience, or fear, but all you did know was that when Maria had practically forced you to ask your dad to give Javier a call you were nothing short of petrified. She would not let it go, even said you’d regret not meeting him, better yet staying with him after how much you’d talked him up in the time you knew her. She was so confident she placed a bet you’d give up her house for his in less than forty eight hours.

“I’m a cop, I’m the obvious choice here cariño” His confidence was charming. He was deceptively charming.

“Yeah. A terrible one.”

“Was a little shocked you wanted to see me..” sometimes you really thought he could read your mind. Not just in that moment, in fact he had a habit of hitting on right whatever you were thinking about, whatever was bothering you, things you felt you couldn’t tell anyone else because they wouldn’t understand. You were not sure if and how you wanted to respond, and if you did honestly whether he would know how much the whole situation had preoccupied you.

“Strictly practical. Wanted to see if you remembered me..”

“‘Course I remember you, been haunting me like a little ghost since I last visited..”. you thought you might just explode at his teasing. You asked yourself if he was being truthful, if he truly thought about you, about how he’d up and left.

“You’re the one that disappeared into thin air!” Undeniably, despite the laughter and banter there was a tension in the air– floating between the two of you heavy and low. But what was he expecting?

Thankfully, the car came to a slow and gradual stop at the side of a small side street, where you spotted a small glass door over which flowers blooming from the floor above had been cascading. “Where are we?”

“Mint chocolate chip” One hand on the wheel, the other grabbing his keys, he looked at you as he spoke, so matter of factly it made your heart flutter. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “No pier, or fairy lights though, and no thrill of running from your papa.”

He remembered.

Heart bursting with love ache, you weren’t really sure what to say. As if he had anticipated your fears he seemed like he was coaxing you into your natural rhythm. Reminding you he wasn’t some stranger whose house you were staying in out of convenience. That you knew him, and that he knew you, remembered you.

“Thank god for the last one..” The memory fluttered between you two– the same thoughts, hovering between your heads. He was opening the door, taking a quick check of the traffic. You stayed put, finding your bearings. With one hand extended he beckoned you towards him, offering his arm when you hopped out the car on wobbly feet. “Oh hush, you loved it, cariño. And he knew, I told him the next day.”

With locked arms you crossed the street, and as if no time had passed you had squished yourself to his side, and had smacked him against the shoulder lightly at his admission. “What?! Traitor!”

“I handled it.” He sounded quite impressed with himself, and when you tilted your head and locked eyes with him you noticed how he looked quite impressed as well. You pressed your cheek against his arm, the leather of his jacket brushing against your warm cheeks.

“You were always the fun one.”

A large ‘OPEN’ sign stared you blank in the face, that was until Javier had gently tucked a finger under your chin, and delicately directed your eyes towards him. “He’s your dad, ‘s not supposed to be the fun one..” he softly remarked, his smile remained, and you felt nothing but warmth, and comfort from his presence.

The moment fell naturally, and he reached forward to pull the door open for you, letting skip ahead of him and into the store. “Feels like my 18th all over again.”

—

It's you, it's you, it's all for you

Everything I do

I tell you all the time

Heaven is a place on earth with you

Tell me all the things you wanna do

I heard that you like the bad girls

Honey, is that true?

“You're the boss Peña, give me the word, and it’s done.” You caught Javier’s reflection in the mirror as you sat down to get ready. Fresh out the shower it took about three seconds for the summer heat to get back at you. He liked to keep his place freezing, and at times like that you could only be grateful– the cool air soothing your scorched skin.

Carillo, Murphy– you could recognize the voices as they bounced off the wall, the same men you’d met when they barged into his home unceremoniously at six in the morning. You would have preferred to meet them in actual clothes rather than your pyjamas, and maybe outside instead of infront of your concerningly large cup of coffee, but they seemed to be used to finding unexpected guests in Javier’s apartment early in the morning.

Regardless of the fact that they’d interrupted your quiet breakfast with Javier, they were really nice people. Carillo’s wife even sent some snacks over with him the next time he visited. One because she wanted you to try the local food, and two because “Javier had nothing in his kitchen.”

“I will. soon as that dick Stechner gets out of my fuckin’ way” reaching to put you necklace on you watched as Javier moved out of your field of vision for a quick moment, returning with a glass filled with ice and an ashtray. What were they talking about? You never really asked about his job, you'd tried to talk him out of it many times, but he never budged. One day he hated it, one day he didn’t.

What he was like at work was a point of endless curiosity for you– he just seemed so different. If you were being honest he seemed like an asshole. In the few times you’d seen him interact with his partners he’d barely cracked a smile, trading in his joking and teasing for curt jabs or looks of disapproval. He also admittedly liked ordering people around, telling them what to do. His phone rang about five thousand times a day, and each answered call was punctuated with an air of control, indifference, and the steady and constant confidence of a man who knew what the hell he was doing. And did not like to be questioned about it. The only people who seemed to break the ice were the two he was speaking to at that moment.

“Javi, think this one through, don’t be fuckin crazy.” The voices drowned out as you put your attention back to getting ready. Maria was right. By the time you called her the evening of your arrival you had abandoned all plans to escape Javier's home for hers. She was in hysterics, endlessly pulling your leg over the whole situation. Your overthinking, your panic, your regret, and most obviously your complete infatuation.

She had picked you up the next morning, and had impersonated you the entire ride to the university. You hoped that you didn’t sound the way she said you did when you spoke of him, that you weren’t all heart eyes. It only made you worried about what you sounded like when you spoke to him.

With your bag tucked under your arm you grabbed your shoes off the floor, heading towards the dining table. “You got work this evening?” you were hoping he didn’t. His eyes lifted off his work to watch you shuffle around the small kitchen. Opening the fridge you grabbed a bottle of chilled water, and leaned against the closed door as you spoke.

“Depends if they call me in, they’re tracking some radio signals so we’re sitting tight till then.” He was leaning back in his chair in absolute exhaustion. Knowing that his day started around seven thirty, and never seemed to end, you didn't blame him. The few days you had been staying at his place he’d join you for dinner and be right back to work in a second. This job of his pretty much consumed him, and judging by his commitment you understood why he had no time for anyone or anything else. The guy was practically married to his job. His job and his co-workers, that is. You wouldn’t be surprised if Murphy and Carillo’s wives were envious of how much quality time Javier got to spend with their husbands.

“So you’re staying up until they get back to you?” You didn't mean to sound so perplexed, but you were. Mostly at how unpredictable his hours were. Did he really want to leave the quiet, laid back life at home for whatever this was? He crossed his arms over his chest, and spoke to you in between puffs of his cigarette.

“Yes, cariño, I'm in my forties, dont got a bedtime.” The man could barely keep his eyes open, and when he lifted his glass to his lips you felt a little better about ditching him for your fun night out. Of course you wanted to sit with him, have him talk about everything under the sun, like he used to, but you didn’t want to be another thing he had to worry about.

You barely got to speak to him outside meal times. If he stayed home, safe to say he’d be preoccupied, and if he didn’t it would be just you, and the white noise in his empty apartment, like it had been for the past four nights you had been there.

The man looked like he needed a cup of tea. You reached for the kettle, pushing it on and leaning against the closed fridge door. “They tell you that at the old people's home?” Grabbing your buzzing phone off the counter you moved towards his surprisingly organised kitchen drawers, in which there was little besides some tea bags, coffee beans, jam, canned fruits and bars of candy. That combined with the eggs, bread and milk in his fridge came to make an almost comical representation of what most people would consider a bachelor's desolate pantry.

Your eyes shifted to the illuminated screen of your phone, an unread message staring back at you.

Maria: Leaving in five <3

As you took the bubbling kettle off the burner you made a mental note, reaching for a cup, and a tea bag from the unopened box of earl grey you were pretty certain Javier did not buy for himself, rather became the owner of thanks to one of the nice old ladies who lived opposite him.

“Somones in a mood today huh?” It was then you realised he had abandoned his work to watch you trudge around his kitchen barefoot in your little party outfit, one hand rested on his chin, one leg crossed over the other as he leant back in his wooden dining table chair.

The teabag bobbed in the steaming water a couple of times, before you were pulling it out and tossing it in the trash. You grabbed his blue mug by the handle– some generic, machine made ceramic devoid of any personality, something you’d probably find in a show home. It looked like it had always been sitting on his kitchen shelf, only seeing the light of day every once in a while when he ditched his liquor cabinet for the coffee machine on the far end of the counter. Knowing him that wasn’t often.

“I'm kidding .”

“Well cariño I was thinking we could go to the dance bar tomorrow, but now I guess I'll have to stay home and rest my old knees.” He looked so surprised when you placed the mug in front of him, rested on a white paper napkin. It was almost like he had expected you to make it for yourself. The chair made a slight squeak against the floor as you pulled it back and took a seat, pulling his glass, now lined with the slight golden residue of whiskey, towards you. He was still surprised, a little taken back even, but not in offence, rather a tender, grateful smile tugged at his lips.

“Since when do you dance?” With your focus no longer split between tasks you turned back to the conversation at hand. Making sure to emphasise you remembered just how uncharacteristic Javier’s little suggestion was.

He took a sip of the earl grey, leaning forward and letting his shoulders fall ever so slightly. The glimmer of a distant memory played in his eyes as he met your gaze.“I don’t. But you do.” Your little reminiscence played in the back of your head like a movie reel, the soft sound of music from the dance bar by your house hanging in the air. As if transported into a distant dream you could see clusters of people twirling and dancing with the beat, like little ghosts behind Javier as he spoke.

“And who am I going to dance with” When you said those words out loud you meant for them to sound a whole lot more utilitarian than they ended up sounding. Whether it was hope, or some odd suggestion you were in no mood to unpack where from deep in your subconscious that had come. All you could wish for is that he didn’t notice.

“Plenty of people at the bar who’d love to dance with my darling.” And there it was, that answer you dreaded, delivered with that signature smile, with that warm, twinkling light in his eyes. “You don't have work tomorrow?” unable to bear the thought you moved along to more practical matters.

He was already halfway through that cup of tea, and like his body was in the middle of some sort of spiritual cleanse you could see him resurface somewhat coherent and with eyes that weren’t half as dead as they were two minutes ago.“‘S friday, need the time off. Besides, I'd kick myself if I didn't make good on your time here. These fuckers still gonna be around when youre gone.” Sometimes you wondered if he was talking more to himself than he was to you.

You felt a little buzzing in your purse, and you rummaged through it to find your phone. A text from Maria reminding you you needed to leave. “Yeah, you're gonna sit at the bar like a senior citizen while I have some fun?”

Rising from your seat you searched the room for the last of your things. Notwithstanding the lack of time he had put into making the place home there were still small elements of him scattered throughout that little two bedroom. The fresh flowers in a glass vase on his centre table, framed pictures and art he’d been collecting over the years, small artefacts he’d brought back from his travels. It was so odd, the whole place stood suspended somewhere between home and a place far from it. Familiar yet distant.

“Hey, they’ve got great drinks.”

He finished the last of his tea, and you picked up his mug and set it in the kitchen sink, running it under the tap water for a quick second to rinse it. Truth be told, you just wanted to sit and chat, and if half heartedly doing the dishes was going to give you a few more minutes with him you’d take it.“Don’t get too excited old man, I'm not driving us home.”

“I can take a few cariño, ‘m not like you.” You travelled to where you’d dropped your heels.

“Slander.” pausing momentarily in the middle of putting on your shoes you lifted your head to find him looking back at you. His eyes had seemingly followed you all the way behind him, and he was still smiling. Had you not had one hand on his couch holding you in place you just might have tumbled over.

“You be careful tonight, and don’t walk anywhere alone, especially if it's past ten. I know you– can't even read a damn map, so no wandering around, call me.” It looked like he had already given up on you, one hand rushing to his face to rub his tired eyes, the other plastered to the table. He was shaking his head the way he did when he caught you sneaking out your house one summer.

“I’ll think about it.” of course you were going to call him, you didn't need an excuse. But you liked to see him all agitated, bossing you around like you knew he liked to do. With everyone, that is.

“No no, you're gonna call me when you get there, and you're gonna call me when you leave, and you're gonna tell me exactly how, and with whom you're gettin back.” You were already at the door, hoping to escape him, but he was yelling your name in that exasperated voice, and you heard him shuffle from his seat to stand up– catch you and drag you back in case that was necessary.

“But-” Turning to meet his peering form over the wall of his living room you parted your lips, attempting to protest, playfully, but still protest, but he wasn't having any excuses.

He was doing that thing where he looked at you with his soft eyes, slightly downturned, and the look could convince you to do just about anything, made you feel like you’d rather die than let them down. Anybody else’s nagging would have got you on your last nerve, but you only felt warmth, concern and care when he did it. Hell he could throw you off his roof and you’d still think the same.

“No buts, no excuses. Thats final” You giggled, half because he sounded so much like a boring old man, and half because he was now leaning against the wall, with the top buttons of his shirt undone, and his hands on his hips, hair dishevelled from when he’d combed his fingers through it.

“You sound like him..” With brows raised you looked at him expectantly, taunting him with your teases, and you nearly jumped out the door when he walked towards you, ready to grab you back to him as you escaped. Any insult was better than being compared to your dad, especially in this context. “Don't you say that, cariño” He was laughing, and you were laughing, and his otherwise quiet apartment building was now singing with an uncharacteristic gleam, a glow, a gaiety.

Your shoes clicked against the floors as you scurried away, turning one last time to see him leaning against his door frame, shaking his head as he watched you skip into the night. “I don't make the rules old man”. You heard him chuckle behind you as you ‘sing songed’ your words, your heart fluttering when you noticed he waited for you to get outside before he closed his front door.

–

It's better than I ever even knew

They say that the world was built for two

Only worth living if somebody is loving you

And, baby, now you do

“Thought I told you not to wander around alone, cariño.” You jumped, but it was too late, he had wrapped you up in his arms, and you were pressed up against his chest, and his voice was a low whisper in your ear. And you were dizzy. The alcohol in your system only partly responsible for your petrified squeak, wavering voice, and the way you swayed gently in his embrace. But when he kissed the top of your head ever so gently you could only giggle, recognising that warm hold, that faint smell of whisky on his shirt.

“Psycho, you scared the shit outta me.” He was laughing when you turned around, exhausted, defeated almost, but his eyes were gleaming in the moonlight, and you felt yourself all but swoon at the way he was looking down at you. “You’re lucky I'm the only psycho you ran into” Grabbing your face in his hands each word he spoke was punctuated with hyperbole, and a teasing disbelief. Your own hands shot up to grab his, and your cold palms thawed at the touch. You were sure you felt your heartbeat in your throat when his thumbs brushed the swell of your cheeks, you were sure he could feel the way they grew hot under his rough hands. “Just came out for a smoke, don’t go into cardiac arrest now” your fallen cigarette crumpled under your foot when you stepped on it, and in the midst of your eye roll you watched as he stepped back to look at you in faux disapproval.

“Look at ya’, terrible.” He motioned his head towards the trampled butt on the ground below you. “Me? Terrible?” When you closed the distance between the both of you you stepped on it again, hearing it crush under your shoes, and shoved his shoulder playfully, poking his chest with your pointer finger. “Drinking on the job again old man?” Then he laughed again, this time at your playful yet truthful accusation, and the sound made you feel lighter than a feather. How could one person be so charming, so charismatic, at one in the morning? Like he was divulging a trade secret he raised his brow. “Keeps me awake.”

The blaring music in the club was muffled in the distance as you walked towards the steps of the church in front of you, the quiet and empty street echoing your footsteps. He walked beside you, kept you close on that pleasant summer night. When you turned your head your eyes caught a group of men huddled by a small food stall at the side of the street, hunched over some beers, smoking cigarettes. In the crowd there were two familiar faces. Steve was dressed casually, Carillo and the others in military fatigues. You wondered why he wasn’t walking in their direction, but judging by the look on their faces you concluded there would probably be a better time to do so. Besides, you weren't complaining, he was enough, he always was.

They shot you a half hearted wave, and two strained smiles from across the road.

Taking a seat you pat the stone ground beside you, watching as he looked around, almost willing someone to come into sight, one foot on the steps leading up to the cathedral entrance, wringing his hands. “What’re you doing here anyway?” You wondered what he had done that evening, but you knew you were better off not asking. You were glad to have bumped into him, and the last thing you wanted to do in your giggly half tipsy mood was have him explain something you were sure would keep you up at night. Not when he had that look on his face, his work look.

“Waitin’ on an informant, but someone fucked up and well, we’re back at square one.” he was still searching the street when he bent down to sit beside you, so close your knees bumped.

You felt your heart race a little when he pulled out what looked like a joint he had rolled moments ago from his shirt pocket, when he leaned back on his arm, lit it and looked up at the sky as he took a drag. You wondered if in your little emotional panic, your worry of his disappearance you had blocked out the memory of his striking, handsome face. You wondered if he had always been this beautiful, this captivating, everything he did set you on fire, the way he carried himself.

“Smoke a lotta weed for a DEA agent.”

He turned his head towards you, letting it fall lazily in your direction, and his hair fell in his face the way it did all those years ago, and he shot you that smile that felt like home. “Been a long day cariño”. He was looking back to the sky, but your eyes didn't leave him. He looked so tragic in the moonlight, half lit by its platinum glow. You weren’t sure if it was the liquid courage, or the fact that his shoulder looked more inviting than ever, or the fact that a cool breeze just blew by, and you shivered as it brushed your shoulder, but you leaned your head against him, and you felt your tummy erupt with butterflies when he placed a lingering kiss to your forehead. It was forbearing, and merciful, and you wondered if he had somehow noticed your girlish fawning, your silly admiration, and your heart dropped momentarily, but was soon resuscitated by his soft laughter.

“Remember those cigarettes of mine you'd steal back in the day.” The breeze had picked up, and it’s cool was far more jarring when it kissed your hot cheeks. “‘S’not stealing… you knew.” you closed your eyes, and let yourself get lost in that comfortable memory. “yeah , could've told your papa” He was looking down at you, but you kept your eyes ahead, too intimidated to meet his gaze.

“Didn’t”

“Should’ve” His voice was a mumble beside you, and you found yourself thinking about your dad for the first time in a while, and you were instantly reminded the man you were so taken up by was his best friend, and almost twice your age, and saw you as nothing more than his buddy’s daughter. You stiffened against him.

He took another drag of his joint. “If he was here right now his blood pressure would be through the roof”. A cold breeze tickled your skin, and he rubbed your shoulder gently and despite the murmured chatter in your head you couldn’t help but melt into his touch.

“Darling, I can't believe you've been out this long.” He was laughing, and his horrible impression had you in a similar state. Conflict bubbled in your chest, each word slipping past his lips reminded you of your relationship, of your dad, and what he would think if he could peek inside your head, at your little thoughts. You felt guilty, but how could you hold that feeling? Not when he was shaking with joy beside you, not when he had his arm around you the way he did, not when you were tucked into his side, shielded from the winds.

“You smell like a dingy bar” It felt so natural, your regular routine, the way it had always been, when your dad would say something funny, or outrageous, and the both of you would have a field day. It was well incorporated in your repertoire at that point, but the years apart had the memory sitting on a shelf in your brain, collecting dust. You remember when your dad made a terrible joke the day of your senior prom, and the two of you refused to let it go the entire evening. Javier had a vocabulary of his favourite phrases, and so did you, and you couldn’t help but pull them out every once in a while.

“How am I going to survive you?!” You spoke in tandem, each letter dragged out with faux frustration, an uncanny similarity to your dad’s tone ringing in the air as your blended voices formed a familiar melody. It hung between you as he laughed heartily, and you wanted nothing more than to frame the moment, keep it tucked away where it would be yours, only yours forever. The starry night, a twinkling sky above you, the chirp of the crickets, and perhaps your most treasured person, holding you against him.

You wondered why he left, why he left you behind. Did he feel the same as you did in that moment? Was he happy to be there? To have caught you on your night out? After he’d called off his wedding all those years ago he’d become a rarer sight. You were too young to remember, and it wasn’t long after your parents got married. Growing up in your little town you’d heard he always had a reputation with women, but you never believed a word of the neighbourhood chatter.

They were not the same person– the guy everyone talked about, and your Javier. While you’d never give him a break from the teasing, bringing up all the times you’d run into women in the streets, asking if you’d seen him, you could never really imagine him as the man everyone made him out to be. He was reckless, sure, and impulsive, and insolent, and a hardass, but he was also gentle, and thoughtful, and gallant.

At least he was to you.

As if he could hear your thoughts, and they were so loud in your head you wouldn’t be surprised if he could, he broke the silence. “I wanted to come back cariño, but-”

“But you couldn’t, I know '' There was no point going over what had happened and why, and while you incessantly wondered you knew it was a fruitless exercise. It was just how he was, he liked to up and leave, disappear, keep his distance, and you wondered if that had anything to do with you. But you didn't want to kill the moment, more for yourself than for him.

“Glad you decided to come, cariño” It was like he was trying to convince you, of what exactly you weren't sure, but he sounded so earnest, so true.. and you felt deep down he was trying to make amends for his absence. Not just from you, but from the life he left behind. Were you an exception? Or a way to right his wrongs? mend all that had been pushed aside? You didn't know, but you’d worry about that later.

The winds had picked up, and the sky was gleaming, and for the first time in a long time you felt at peace.

“I like it here, it's nice.” When you spoke he was almost surprised, but your words seemed to only widen his grin. He squeezed your shoulder gently.

“Me too baby, me too.”

—

Singin' in the old bars

Swingin' with the old stars

Livin' for the fame

Kissin' in the blue dark

Playin' pool and wild darts

Video games

He holds me in his big arms

Drunk and I am seeing stars

This is all I think of

“Looks like they knew you were coming.” You swivelled the bar stool in your direction, hopping up on the seat. It was early in the evening, around seven, but the music was already going, and there were people on the dance floor, moving to the beat of retro spanish tunes. Javier took a seat beside you, still in his suit from work, shirt haphazardly tucked into his dress pants, tie loose around his neck.

“Why?” the bartender placed your drinks on the counter, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the fact that he’d stuck to his whiskey on the rocks. “They got the oldies on”. You were giggling, and while he wanted to pretend like he was far too tired to care about your antics he couldn’t help but crack a smile. There was a charm to it– catching a break at the end of the work week, the tranquillity of the weekend enveloping you like a safety net. One of you that is.

Friday night was busy at any joint, buzzing with nightlife, food and drink. Somewhere along the way you’d gotten up from your seat and headed to the large empty space in the middle of the bar, where tables and chairs had been cleared to create a somewhat makeshift dance floor. Javier was right, while he sat sipping his whiskey you found plenty of dance partners.

It was all easy, getting passed from one person to the other as the group formed a large circle. It was like you had disappeared into the crowd, bodies moving left to right in the dim green glow, only occasionally giving you a glimpse of the man sitting at the counter– face rested in his palm. Ask him to dance. These urges of yours were momentary, little private lapses of judgement that would only remind you of what was just not possible.

When he’d take you out back in the day he’d have some minor injury to blame for his lack of participation on the dance floor, and when he didn’t he was “a terrible dancer” or “had too many drinks”. After a while you stopped asking. You realised you’d never really seen him dance.

You had grabbed the hand of a stranger, letting them twirl you around– Javier was looking in your direction. For how much fun he liked to have you had come to recognize hardly any of it involved other people. Weddings, birthdays, barbeques. He was there. However, you’d always felt he looked at it as an obligation. A hi to the bride and groom, a bouquet of flowers, some meaningless small talk and he would disappear out the door. When he stayed it was solely in the company of a few familiar suspects– your dad being one. While he was often the subject of conversation, he was a pretty reluctant conversationalist.

It was hot, and muggy, and if someone asked you where you were in the room you surely couldn’t place yourself. Forcing yourself out of the chatter in your head you looked up, noticing finally that your partner hadn’t changed in the past 10 minutes.

He was looking down at you quite sweetly, he was actually quite handsome, your age, but he didn’t have a white button up on, didn’t have that sideways smirk. He wasn’t Javier. And unfairly, for that reason alone you didn’t want him. But who were you to say no to pretty green eyes, soft, delicate looking light brown hair, a black button up that wasn’t very buttoned up. Neither of you had the confidence to speak up, so you let him sway you side to side, one hand firmly planted on his chest.

You wondered what he really thought of you, if after this little visit he’d be more compelled to come visit, at least spare you a call. Would he disappear once again? Call your dad once in a while and ask him to deliver some impersonal message like ‘say hi to her for me’? You wished you could care less, but you knew you couldn’t, and something inside you told you he knew too.

A firm arm wrapped around your waist, spinning you in the opposite direction, faces turned to motion blur as you turned on your heel. “Looks like a saved you, cariño.” He was twirling you, holding your hand in his and pulling you into his chest. He hadn’t really saved you but at the same time he had. He could pick you up from a field of lilies and drop you in a medieval torture chamber and he’d still be your knight in shining armour.

What the fuck are you doing here? You wanted to ask, but you held back. You wondered what had prompted him on the dance floor. Did he think some weirdo wouldn’t let go of you? Had seeing you dance with someone else accomplished a task years of your coaxing couldn’t? You turned back, but the stranger had already disappeared, and Javier was directing your gaze towards him.

As you had always suspected he was a great dancer, and he sure as hell liked holding you close as you moved along the dance floor. The songs ran over the decades, and he’d often sing lines to you– smiling and pulling you towards him. He looked so handsome, lights reflecting off his face, his smile tired, but earnest, and wide. You almost couldn’t keep up.

“Danced your energy away?” Picking up the pace once again you twirled around him, unwilling to give in. “No! Why? your back needa rest?” You watched him laugh– shake his head and grab you by the hips. “Sure you didn't cariño.. Can't keep up with an old man?” Voice raw from yelling over the music, you pulled his leg. “Think I heard your knee pop.” His raised brow only aroused suspicion. “Oh really?” Before you could even respond his arm had hooked under your thighs, and his hand was on your back and you were being lifted into the air. “Oh my god!” Your own arms flung around his neck, both your laughs floating between you as he spun around.

It felt different and not because something in his head had dragged him out onto the dance floor. The way he was looking at you, the way he just couldn’t let go. It hurt your heart more than anything you’d ever experienced. The pain was conflicting– the love ache and the hurt. Did he know how much he meant to you? Did he even care? Something in your heart told you he did but you chalked it up to innocent hope.

The music slowed down, and you heard emerging from the stereo a familiar tune.

You’d hum it all the time, so much so it would drive your father nuts. In the kitchen, while doing chores, sometimes as you read by Javier’s side. On the weekend when you woke up early to help cook breakfast it’d be the first song on the playlist. You recall how he’d watch you dance around the kitchen, truth be told rather ungracefully in the mornings– spatula in one hand, kitchen towel in the other.They played it at some wedding once, and your friends had bounded to the dance floor with you just to ensure you didn’t miss a note. You were running so fast you all but collided with him, and he had to catch your falling form as you stumbled towards your best friend, shouting a quick “sorry” as you bounded in her direction.

He remembered.

Words were useless when you looked at him the way you did. An expression of surprise, confusion, realisation, all at once, a smile tugging your lips, your doe eyes gazing into his soft brown ones. And his arms were around you, and you were pressed against his warm chest, and you were gently swaying to the beat of the music.

“Looks like they knew you were coming.”

It felt like a blip in time, but it would’ve been hours. People came and left, all around you groups of twos and threes and tens, but you stayed, and he stayed. Smiling down at you, holding you tight. You were a little light headed from it all, feet fighting the urge to take a little break. You just couldn’t let go.

Plopping down on the bar stool you let your cheek hit the cool marble of the counter. Your legs felt like wet noodles, trembling when you finally sat down. You weren't really sure where Javier went, but it felt like an eternity he let you lay there with your eyes closed. Every second was one hundred times longer when he wasn’t holding you. His arm was firm around your waist when he finally helped you out of your seat. You realised he’d been standing only about two metres away the entire time.

“Let’s get you home, ‘s late.” He had picked your shoes up from where you’d abandoned them, his own blazer draped over his arm– the one you weren’t hanging on to. With closed eyes you let him lead you out into the night, all your weight firmly supported by his broad shoulders, your stumbling feet only stabilised when he tucked you into his side.

Unintelligible to anyone but him, and muffled by your yawn and cheek pressed against his upper arm you slurred your words as you spoke. “Past your bedtime?”

He chuckled to himself, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head, his voice a faint murmur– the last thing you really remember hearing. “Yes cariño, past my bedtime…”

—

It's you, it's you, it's all for you

Everything I do

I tell you all the time

Heaven is a place on earth with you

Tell me all the things you wanna do

I heard that you like the bad girls

Honey, is that true?

“You been drinkin’ my whiskey….” He was leaning on the table, waving the glass you left out in the air, holding it between two of his fingers. He wasn’t upset, rather looked quite amused. You rubbed your eyes, making out his smile from a distance. “Couldn't sleep.” Peering into the room you were staying in you were sure he saw your blankets bunched up on the bed where you had been tossing and turning for hours. Your eyes caught the clock on the wall.

1am.

It had been a long day. Being assigned to a new supervisor proved to be a real curse. He was quite a piece of work. Patronising, condescending, everything in between. If that wasn’t enough he rejected your proposal, and asked you to submit a new one in two days. God knows you had a lot on your mind.

The kitchen cabinet swished when he opened it, bringing you back to the present. “God, you really are like me huh?” He still had his jacket on, but judging by the look on his face he needed a drink first. The couch dipped as you threw yourself on it, and you turned over its back rest to watch him move around the kitchen.

“I had like one shots worth, with like a whole glass of water, so not like you.” Curled up under his plush throw blanket you sank into the cushions, eyes following him as he sat down beside you. With a deep sigh he leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index. “Fuckin’ hell”

“Long day?” He picked up the joint he’d just rolled from the side table, groping for the handle of the drawer to grab a lighter. “Can say that..” It was just another night for him. You were lucky you heard him pull up outside, and had got yourself to look somewhat presentable so you could see him at least once that day. Granted that involved nothing but putting on a bralette.

Maybe it was the fact that it was late, or that you had such a shitty day, or that you just couldn’t help yourself anymore, but you leaned against his chest, snuggling into his side as he took a drag. “I would try and talk you out of this job, but I think I've exhausted all my arguments..” You twiddled your fingers, just wanting to melt into him and disappear.

“I don’t think there’s anything else I could do.” You shivered, his fingers tracing shapes on your upper arm. “Couldn’t do whatever it is you’ve been doing…” redirecting your gaze from your lap you looked up at him. “Sometimes it feels like I can’t either” He was looking ahead, voice low and rumbly, and just what you needed to hear.

“You’ve got time, got one’ve my lifetimes ahead’ve you” He pulled you closer, head resting against yours. “Don't say that” You poked his side lightly, hearing him chuckle beside your ear. “Oh yeah, now those jokes gettin’ to you?!”

Stewing in a comfortable silence you let yourself ease into his embrace, willing your mind to shut up for the time being and enjoy his company. The way he was holding you– so much more delicately than he ever had before had your heart clenching. “Tell me your day was better than mine.”

His words cut through the chilled air, and your heart soared at the thought that it even mattered to him. “No, sucked.” to anyone else you would have responded with a simple ‘it was good’, some white lie to avoid further questions, but you couldn’t lie to him, he’d figure it out one way or another. “My supervisor’s an asshole..”

Nothing was more comforting than the kiss he placed to the side of your head.“‘m sorry honey” He offered you his joint– seemingly having deserted his agenda of being a good influence in favour of apparently celebrating your mutual disappointment. You felt your cheeks heat.

“I've never smoked before.”

Gasping comically he whipped his head towards you. He tapped your nose with his index, pinching your cheek and giving you possibly the most suspicious look he could muster. At least he tried, because his smile peaked through the interrogative exterior. “You little liar.” The gesture had you jumping to defend yourself. Shifting to meet his drooping eyes you almost knocked him over as you plopped on the couch, letting him wrap his free arm around your waist to steady you. “No, promise!” You leaned your forehead against his, your eyes gazing into his in an attempt to convince him. Despite his disbelief you were indeed telling the truth.

“Oh really? Been drinkin’ too, trouble.” his hand snaked up the nape of your neck, cupping your jaw. It was then you realised just how close you were to him. Your eyes flickered to his lips momentarily. When you realised he had beat you to the task you were convinced you were hallucinating, or had somehow gotten high off the second hand smoke. In pain, you were in utter pain, unveiled and unprotected– subjected to his piercing gaze.

Painfully aware of the tension that had settled like a thick cloud over you, your voice came out small and strained, but also hopeful. “‘M not trouble….could be though”

The tightness in his jaw was something you couldn’t ignore. “Yeah, I know” In a moment of bad judgement, or in hindsight good judgement you decided you knew what you needed to do. You were exhausted of having to wonder. You were exhausted of asking questions, exhausted of his absence. You slung your leg over his thighs, lifting yourself onto his lap Leaning against his firm chest you peered up at him through your lashes.

“Baby, careful” You knew this time those words were not for you, you knew he was fighting the urge to gather you in his arms. You could see that look in his dark eyes– hungry, and hot. You could feel him, hard against your cotton panties. He bent down to press his forehead against yours, your noses bumping. “Cariño, you don't know what you're doing.” His actions were in direct contradiction to his words, his large hands cradling your soft cheek, pleading you to put him out of his misery. But you were selfish, like he had been all those years ago, and you needed him to put you out of yours.

“You don’t want this, Cariño” He swiped his thumb over your bottom lip. He was doing that thing again, where he was talking more to himself than to you. But couldn’t let him decide what you wanted, because for years you’d let him convince himself you’d wanted to keep your distance to maintain his own conscience– to make him feel better about how he’d disappeared from your life.

“I know what I want..” You didn’t mean to, but you were pouting, and despite your best efforts to speak with conviction you couldn’t help but come off a little pleading, “show me, please.” surely he knew you weren’t just talking about the weed.

His lips ghosted over yours, and you could just about burst into tears the way he was looking at you. He probably noticed the way your chin wobbled, the way your doe eyes blinked away from his. Because in a moment you heard him sigh heavily, painfully, and apologetically all at once.

And he was kissing you. Soft and slow, and gentle, and benevolent and like everything you’d ever hoped for. He tasted how you’d always imagined– like whiskey and cigarettes and everything in between. Like home. His thumb stroked your cheek gently until you pulled away, glossy eyed and wobbly on his lap.

“Want me to show you what?” And here you thought his eyes couldn’t get any darker. He mumbled into your lips, voice commanding and steady– everything you weren't. He grabbed the back of your neck and guided you back towards him. Threading your fingers through his hair you let yourself get lost in the shelter of his hold. You felt as though he could pretty much eat you alive, the way his lips were moving against yours– suddenly hot and soft and needy.

Heart racing you chased his lips with your own, but he steadied you with his hands, amused at your zeal. “Gotten all worked up now have we?” You couldn’t help it, you tried, tried to sit steady in his lap, but you just couldn’t, not when you felt his cock, twitch against your clothed pussy.

You rolled your hips against his, watched as his head fell back against the couch. The crease between his brows only persuaded you to continue. “Shit baby, tryna kill me?” barely audible, his rasp had you bracing yourself with your hands planted firmly on his chest. You dragged your hips again, leaning down and tugging the fabric of his shirt. He reached for the joint he’d abandoned on the side table, bringing it to your lips.

He observed you greedily. “That's it, good girl.” His voice had never sounded more strained than it did in that moment, watching you take a drag, eyes glossing over. The praise had your heart fluttering, you’d do just about anything to hear it again. Smoking wasn’t helping either of your causes, because it only made you press your pussy harder against his clothed crotch. This time his hips rose slightly to meet you, and he cursed lowly under his breath. Already unable to maintain control.

Taking another drag he leaned back, letting you rub yourself against him, eyes screwing shut every once in a while, just like your own. He’d bring the joint to your waiting mouth every now and then, revelling in the sight of you getting more and more desperate with each puff.

“dirty little girl..” you whimpered at his words. “rubbin’ that drippy lil pussy all over my lap.” You looked down, only to find a dark spot on his grey jeans, for where you pressed yourself against him. Incapable of stopping your movements you continued, relishing how the friction eased the throbbing between your legs. “Yeah? few drags got you all achy cariño, got you squirmin’?”

He was watching you, and you could make out his intense gaze through your fluttering lashes, his eyes scanning you up and down, then fixing on your face of strained pleasure. “Tell me how good it feels, Cariño” His palms smoothed up and down your thighs, harsh and slow, and exercising all the self control he could muster. It was difficult to answer, a response bubbling in your throat before you were incoherently blurting it out.

"Feels so good..” whining, you grabbed the fabric of his shirt in your fists, bouncing on his lap lightly to feel just anything against you, you wanted more, lust and intoxication clouding your judgement. “Please, need it, need it so bad” Losing all sense of restraint one of his hands reached for your hips, squeezing and gripping firmly.

He dragged your already rolling hips against him, sliding you against his clothed crotch to the point you couldn’t help but let your legs fall limp, your forehead press against his shoulder. “Need what?” You could feel the tick in his jaw where it was pressed up against your cheek.

His hand slipped between your bodies, moving your soaked panties aside to feel your wetness. You shuddered when you felt him against you, grinding down on his hand. “Fuck, look at that. So fuckin’ wet for me babygirl.”

“Need you inside me, please.” Nosing his neck you pressed a kiss there, mouth falling agape as he rubbed your clit, fingers teasing your entrance, just barely pushing into you. “Like this?” If your laboured breaths were any indication you couldn’t take it much longer.

You wiggled your hips, trying to bear down on his digits, but he pulled away only to squeeze the inside of your thigh. ““Gettin’ to you already? use your words baby” he was taunting you, your little ‘no’s making him smirk against your shoulder as he went back to sliding his fingers along the cut of your pussy. “What do ya’ want me to do to you? Tell me babygirl.” You knew the sweet talk was only meant to encourage you, and while it worked you couldn’t help the way your cheeks burned when you replied.

“Want your cock inside me. Want you to fuck me.. please … need it”

Now that he listened to, fingers pulling away and tapping at your lips. When you gazed down at them you could see how wet you really were– having drenched them in the little while he’d had his hand in your panties. Obeying you parted them, letting him slide them into your waiting mouth, sucking gently, the taste of yourself heady on your tongue. “Good girl.” Even though he looked quite composed on the outside you still noticed the way he swallowed thickly when your tongue ran along his digits.

“Want me to fuck the cute lil pussy?” you shook your head vehemently, and he chuckled at your enthusiasm. “That's my pretty baby.” he kissed you like he wanted to devour you, frantic, and urged, voice so rough it came out almost like a growl. His hands roughly grabbed your hips, flipping you to lay back against his couch. In a moment your sleep top and bralette had been discarded, in a pile on the floor alongside your shorts and his own clothes.

Slotting himself between your legs you looked down to where his fingers were tracing the inside of your thigh. You gazed up at him, upper body lit by the dim orange light of the side table, broad shoulders slumped as he admired the sight of you– on your back, in nothing but your panties, all for him. As he slowly pulled them down your legs, he sure seemed to relish the way the fabric of your cotton panties clung messily to your wet pussy.

“Poor thing, just need someone to take care of you don’t you?” It was less of a question and more of a declaration, and undoubtedly it made you feel open and weak. How could you not feel that way? There you were laid out in front of him, every part of you exposed, his toned torso being the only part of him you could really see thanks to the half lit room. It felt like if he looked just a little closer he’d be able to see right through your naked body– and into your scrambled thoughts.

His index teased your dripping hole, briefly dipping into you and coming back to rub soft circles on your clit. Gasping, your fingers flew to grip his wrist when you felt him slide his cock against your cunt, tip teasing your sensitive nub ever so slightly. “Relax babygirl, be good for me.” Bringing your hand to his lips he peppered your knuckles with kisses, willing you to ease into the cushions as he draped himself over your body. He grasped your face in his palm, kissing his reassurance against your forehead as you felt him line himself up with your leaking entrance.

You mewled at the stretch of him, at how hot you felt against him as he eased himself into your soft pussy. “Shit- so fucking tight-” his stopped for a second, like he was willing himself not to split you open with one quick snap of his hips. “can barely fit my cock in this lil pussy.” Leaning in your lips searched for his. He let you melt into him, fingers brushing against your side as if to calm you down.

It was so much– his weight on top of you, his hips slotted between your thighs, forehead pressed against yours. You could feel every pulse, every throb, every ridge of him inside you, nudging those spots you could never reach yourself– and he wasn’t even moving yet.

When he did start moving you couldn’t help the whimper that slipped past your lips. Your fingers digging into the flesh of his biceps, pulling him closer. You needed him, pressed up against your rising chest, holding you. “I know cariño, I know.” His right hand squeezed your waist, “Feels so good doesn’t it? Yeah feelin’ all full?”

His voice was so sweet, like honey, warm and sultry in your ear. You nodded a quiet ‘yes’. He cradled your face in his palm, nose nudging yours gently. Mumbling his own rhetorical “yeah?” he kissed the underside of your jaw. For the first time he felt as close as he physically was, big and thick inside you.

You were drowning in his arms, enveloped by them, cocooned in a bubble of heat, and low breathy sighs, and his lips ghosting over yours as he thrust into you– hard, but slow, and deep. “That’s it, just like that–” he picked up his pace ever so slightly. “Such a good girl.” His words were gruff, and stuttery and his breath tickled your ear whenever he spoke.

Feeling the drag of his thick cock against your pulsing walls your eyes struggled to focus on him above you. He on the other hand seemed to have no trouble fixing his gaze on your trembling form. “Makin’ me feel so–” he brought his thumb to brush the swell of your cheek, “fucking good, baby”. Your head buzzed at his praise, burning face turning to rest in his palm.

With your back lifting off the soft cushion you reached to pull him impossibly closer, wiggling your hips to meet his thrusts. “More, please, please.. Want it” you couldn’t recognise your voice, not when you were begging him, watching his eyes twinkle. “Yeah? Need me to fuck this pretty pussy harder?” you nodded– feeling embarrassed enough at his smirk of surprise to hide your face in his neck, but not enough to stop begging. Another soft “please” barely falling from your mouth.

Rising slightly he grabbed your hips, holding your thigh against his side. Your tilted hips granted him a whole new angle, and before you knew it you were throwing your head back, letting it fall against the upholstery. “You want that, don't you baby? Need me to stuff you full of my cum?” You could only respond with your sounds of pleasure.

He pushed you against the cushions, hovering above you to drive himself deeper, watching you turn into a moaning incoherent mess– your whimpers and whines bouncing off the walls and only exhilarating his pleasure. “That's right cariño, I gotcha’” one hand squeezed the flesh of your hip, then travelled up to brush against the exposed column of your throat– fingers tracing your skin before he was leaning down and placing sloppy kisses against you.

“gonna fuck this pretty pussy till she’s dripping with my cum.”

He must have noticed that dumb, hazy look in your eyes when propped himself back up, still fucking you till your hips pressed into the sofa’s cushions. “Fuck, nothin in that head of yours huh?” You made out his smirk of pride as you jostled around, trying your best to keep your eyes on him as he moved above you.

It was far easier said than done. Not when you could feel his cock against your throbbing walls, could hear his scruff groans whenever he felt you clench around him, not when he was looking down at you with his furrowed brows, and sweat gemming his hair– which’s curls had been ruffled out of place from when you’d ran your fingers through them.

Especially not when he shifted ever so slightly, and you felt his tip brush that sensitive spot inside you you didn't even know you had. Javier cursed above you, feeling you squeeze his cock. “that the spot huh babygirl?” he watched the way your eyes fluttered shut, face scrunching in pleasure as he hit it over and over and over again.

Your head lulled from side to side, your body in overdrive and completely overwhelmed at the sensations. That was until he was cupping your cheek in his palm, tilting your face in his direction. “Use your words for me.”. But you couldn’t, parted lips struggling to form anything coherent besides soft, little whines.

His hips snapped in a deep, slow thrust. “Say it..” Your eyes were barely open, and you reached and tried to grab him closer, but he stayed above you, unwilling to budge as he slowed to a complete stop– waiting for you to voice your needs. “Yes-”

He mumbled against your lips, nipping, and kissing. “Good girl, my good girl.” To that you nodded, back arching as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. Every part of you singing at his touch– how he kneaded and squeezed your hot flesh.

The coil in your belly only tightened and tightened, and you suddenly felt too vulnerable, too exposed to meet his hooded eyes. Turning your face to the side you let the plush throw blanket hide your hot cheeks, burying your face in it. “Look at me, wanna see your pretty face.” It was an instruction. One he expected you to follow like all the others.

You didn’t think he’d notice that hitch in your breath, the way you did the opposite and smashed your face against the soft fabric. It was all too much, and he was fucking into your soaking pussy, and his hands were roaming your body, and you could feel his skin brush yours, and you were dizzy, and overwhelmed and you could scream and–

And he was slowing down again, just enough to where he kept you on that edge, to where you could savour every bit of him inside you. – “Cariño, look at me..” God he sounded so tender, coaxing you out of your daze just enough to the point you shook your head ‘no’, whimpering and turning only further away from him.

He kissed your cheek, cooing at your overwhelm. Not to mock you, rather he sounded quite endeared, prideful even. “Baby” Nudging his nose with yours you felt his thumb rub soothing circles against the apex of your cheekbone, urging you in his direction ever so slightly. Your eyes fluttered open, just barely, only to find him smiling down at you.

“There’s my girl.”

“Need you to look at me when ‘m fuckin’ you.” He held your face in place as his hips met yours, slow and languid. No part of you was left untouched, his kisses adorning every inch of your exposed skin, lips coming to press against yours every now and then. It was like he could see through your nakedness, and the thought terrified you to no end, made you feel small and defenceless, and had your sensitive cunt squeezing his cock.

“You close honey?” When you nodded your nose bumped his, and he laughed before he was kissing you gently. He brushed the sweat from your brow, voice so mellow yet in control. “Cum for me baby-” You felt him deep inside you. So so so close. ”Wanna feel you cum all over my cock”

It rolled over you, slow and intense and deep, in waves. He held you close, cooing at your trembling frame, holding you against him. “'M here cariño, I gotcha, just like that.” Groaning, he watched your eyes struggle to remain open, rolling back into your head as he fucked your throbbing cunt. “That's my pretty girl.”

His own hips stuttered, thrusts becoming sloppy as he neared his release. Still experiencing the aftershocks of your orgasm you felt him fucking into your warm, pulsing pussy. You felt his cock twitch inside you before he was filling you up with his cum, a strained curse slipping past his lips.

Ears ringing you registered him catching his breath above you, but it was all too hazy for you to make out. All you really knew is that he hadn’t let go of you, hadn’t abandoned you on the couch to smoke a cigarette or pour himself a drink, instead he was peppering your face with little kisses. “ ‘m so proud’a you cariño– did so well for me.”

Pulling out he slid his hand under your back, flipping you over so you were snuggled into his chest. The cold air from the open window could barely touch your skin before Javier was throwing the blanket over you– keeping you warm, close.

You were still in your daze, but even as you lay on top of him, drifting in and out of a deep slumber you couldn’t shake the worry that when you opened your eyes he would be gone.

That he would have traded you in for the comfort of his bed, or worse would have disappeared into obscurity once again. The thought only stung more as you felt his cum leak out of you, mixing with your own to drip down your thighs obscenely.

You never really knew if he regretted it, if he wanted you for sure, if he liked having the weight of your body against him. Flinging your arms around his neck you tugged him impossibly closer, burying your face in his neck. A silent plea to stay where he was. You didn’t care if you seemed needy, or clingy or pathetic.

It was like he knew somehow, like your thoughts floated to him after you’d thought them. And as always there was no explaining to do, no questions to answer, nothing to say. His embrace was safe, and secure, and unwavering. “close those eyes for me cariño mìo” He planted a soft kiss to your nose, his arms tightening around you, palms rubbing soothing circles on your back. “‘m right here babygirl, not goin’ anywhere….”

You did. And he didn’t.

It's better than I ever even knew

They say that the world was built for two

Only worth living if somebody is loving you

And, baby, now you do

Now you do

Now, now you do

Now you do

I would also like to add that we are engaging with this concept solely in the realm and interest of fiction. This type of situation is a huge red flag. While the reader is seemingly consenting and enthusiastic there is a huge power imbalance between her and Javier. He has also known her her whole life and has been a significant part of her childhood. Engaging sexually or romantically in a relationship like that is creepy gr*omer behaviour. I used their past as a narrative device because this isn’t real, but please be aware of your media consumption, and that dynamics between characters in fic are vastly different from what is healthy, and ethical in real life. 🫶🐝💗

I really hoped you lovelies enjoyed it!! Please let me know what you think, I'd love to hear it! Thank you to everyone who reblogs my work, you keep me writing. Dividers and banners by @ saradika 💗🐝✨

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yurozo · 3 months ago

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what could have been (chris redfield oneshot)

description: chris made the biggest mistake of his life letting you walk out of it, and he's determined to make it right this time.

a/n: there really isn't enough fanfic about chris redfield and i am more than determined to change that. this man is sooo underappreciated. about: gn!reader/little physical description/no use of y/n. fluff, with very minor angsts, and a few mentions of in-canon violence.

it was an unsettling thing to walk away from you. but that was the way it always worked— you went one way while he went the other. a research laboratory on the other side of the city beckoned you over, studying accessible cures to viruses that chris had dedicated his life to eradicating. ever intertwined, despite the miles between you at all times.

on the other hand, chris spent his time travelling from place to place, never truly settling in washington due to the unbidden fear of having to leave it again. familiarity was a privilege unbeknownst to him, the mortal atlas condemned to carrying the world on his shoulders. he could at least enjoy knowing that if you ever needed a place, you would know where it was. and despite everything, he was rather proud of the way he matured. he was more fit than he was back in s.t.a.r.s- not entirely of his own accord, mind you- and eons more responsible.

watching every person you've ever cared about lose that twinkle in their eye did that to people.

and he didn't hate his job, contrary to popular belief. founding the b.s.a.a is among his crowning achievements, and allowed him to enact some real change. along with paying him a decent salary.

he supposed, bioweapons notwithstanding, that adulthood had changed him. long gone is the foul-mouthed air force pilot, and in its place stood a true soldier. safe and solid, protecting and proud. it was more so the person he imagined you would be into, someone dependable that could protect you if the need arose. truth be told, everything he did back in the s.t.a.r.s was with a side glance in your direction, desperately hoping you were watching him the same way he was secretly watching you.

the two of you kept minimal contact throughout the years, limited to the occasional 'how are you' and 'work's been good'. you always let him know of any major life changes, and he always contacted you after a mission, however brief, to sate your anxieties of whether or not to look for his name in an obituary. you pointedly never mentioned your dating life, but the very thought of someone vying for your attention made chris a little sick to his stomach.

call him possessive, call him crazy, for helplessly pining for a girl who was just slightly nicer to him than everyone else at the police department. what he did know is that the only suppression to that boiling feeling in his gut was the unbridled joy that filled him whenever he saw your contact name show up in his notifications. an indicator that you thought of him, however briefly.

in some parallel universe, he would be standing outside your balcony playing some queen song with terrible audio on an even shittier boombox, and you would be awed and wooed by his grand romantic gesture. you would run down from the balcony and plant one on him, and he would swing you around in his arms and there would be nothing but the two of you. no bioweapons, no blood staining his hands, no nightmares about finding you dead in the middle of a ruined city. but he lived in this world, where he was too old and too tired to indulge in those fantasies.

he was a man. he was also a soldier, and therefore, a realist.

so, when you texted him about being in the washington area and wanting to meet up for a day, chris had spent two days drawing three viable conclusions.

1.) this was an elaborate dream made up by a combat-addled mind to live out some younger, unbridled fantasy of his,

2.) this was a cruel prank by some twisted fuck that somehow knew how much he clung to you over the years,

3.) the final, and least likely conclusion: that there was some part of you that missed him as much as he missed you.

he wants to cross the third one off by instinct, but something in his heart adamantly refuses. that sparkling hope in his chest is something he's not particularly looking to stamp out just yet, so he chooses to simply let it burn until it probably would just consume him entirely. by the time he reaches the bar you both agreed on meeting at, he's been so wrapped up in determining your motivations that he's caught entirely unprepared by the sight of you.

you were sitting there, chin in your hands as you mindlessly tapped on the glass in front of you. probably waiting for a while, given your propensity for being unbearably early to social gatherings. you always did have a distaste for tardiness, even if chris was technically five minutes early. the same endearing furrow in your brow makes chris falter in his steps, taking a moment to truly absorb you for the first time in years.

fuck, you were gorgeous. the kind that had other tripping over themselves just to bask in your presence. hell, chris was one of them. always had been.

that same simmering boil of jealousy that used to arise every time that he watched some civilian lean over the reception desk, speaking to you in hushed tones as they preened in your attention, sparks to a roaring fire. he has to remind himself that things are different now; you had lived a whole other life without him, and he's had to learn to survive without you.

he briefly entertains the thought that his absence affected you in the same way. this gnawing feeling that something vital to his very being was lost somewhere in the wreckage of raccoon city.

your face had matured over the years too— jaw set a little sharper, eyes a little duller, the faint lines of age beginning to appear on your skin. you're still gazing somewhere far away by the time he musters up the courage to approach the table, hesitant like you'll reach over the table and sink your teeth into his arm like a-

no. bad chris. no talking shop here.

you don't seem to notice him as he approaches, still staring down at the table like it will speak to you if you glare at it long enough.

"seem lost in thought." chris gives you the most dazzling smile he can muster, full of charm eased by age. while his body language is casual as he slides into the booth next to you, his mind has gone blissfully blank.

your thigh is touching his. oh god, you're wrapping your arms around him before he can think of something suave to say. your action is immediately reciprocated by strong arms pulling you closer, tucking you into his chest like he wants you to live in it forever.

god, he fucking missed this. seeing you, touching you with a familiarity he thought was long lost.

"i missed you," you murmur, letting your cheek smush into his collarbone.

"missed you too," he laughs, bright and warm. all the tension from his job immediately eases in your hold, and he lets himself squeeze you tighter and tighter, like a serpent desperately trying to stay out of the damnation of hell.

"jesus, chris. you got huge."

chris frowns as you pull back from him and start squeezing his arms appreciatively. he has no choice but to let you manhandle him, silently relishing in the way your eyes trace across the contours of his body. he is proud of it, even if he hates the reason why he felt the need to train this much in the first place.

the only way to stop wesker, to try and make the fight on level terms. he never told you about that either, keeping the details concise, knowing that you would have gotten on the first place to washington if you heard his plans of hunting their former boss. you had once admired the captain the same way chris did, and the knowledge of what had to happen would have crushed you.

that shoulder of burden can lay squarely on him.

"you know how it is," he answers instead, taking a sip from your glass. something sugary and way too sweet for his taste. "work never stops."

"tell me about it." the glass is then swapped to your hands. "i'm pretty sure i've huffed enough chemicals to send me to an early grave."

if anyone is going to rot eight feet below the earth soon, he thinks, it's most definitely not going to be you. he's been running from that ticking clock for far too many years.

"but you do good work." he grins, waving down a bartender and ordering a simple whiskey. on the rocks, top shelf, because he's a classy guy.

"we do good work." you remind him.

"fine." he concedes, hunching slightly over the table. "we're both patron saints."

a bright smile is what he gets in response, one that has his heart stuttering and tripping over in his chest. he can't help but give you a slightly goofy one in return. everything feels like as it should be. you're here, alive, and he is here, slightly less alive but feeling like he's finally able to breathe.

—

in retrospect, three-drink chris was probably not the best choice for tonight. one-drink chris is a little chattier than usual, but still relatively normal. two-drink chris loves music, always tapping his feet or bobbing his head to whatever song is playing. and three-drink chris might just be the most impulsive person on the planet.

the entire time you drive him home, which you insist on, chris has his head turned to you with the most obviously love-struck look in his eyes. the entire world around him seems to dull to a faint hum, instead focusing on that frustrating smile of yours as you recount some time that a coworker of yours accidentally put whatever chemical in something solution, causing a lab-wide evacuation.

like he said, impulsive. no more little voice in his head warning him to be subtle.

no more voices in his head screaming the songs of the damned.

he's honestly only half-listening. and only half-paying attention it seems, because you give him a questioning look when the car pulls into his driveway and he makes no move to get out. a nervous laugh escapes him then, breaking the awkward silence in your car like a clap of thunder.

"this was nice," you say eventually, lips upturned in a sort of half-smile. endearing, even cute.

"it was," he nods, trying desperately to keep this moment going as long as it can. just the thought of leaving you again after spending years drowning in the emptiness gives him a headache. chris spent enough time dawdling around like an idiot, going so far as to refuse to change phone numbers in the small chance you would never contact him again.

you're picking at your nails during his internal monologue, that same worried pinch forming between your brows. you're, once again, the one to break the silence. "chris, i-"

his lips are on yours then. thick hands curled around your neck, keeping you in place for one second, then two, then three.

his eyes are still squeezed shut when he pulls away.

"fuck," he whispers, jolting back like you had slapped him. "i'm sorry, i just have wanted to do that for a while, and i couldn't let you go away again without doing something."

"chris."

"i know it was stupid, and impulsive," he keeps going, purposefully avoiding eye contact. "i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, i just-

"chris," the stern tone of your voice is enough to make him stop mid-ramble, peering up at you hopefully. you only laugh in response, before raising your hand to the nape of his neck. his hair is longer than you remember it being. just another way he's changed.

"yeah." he sighs, defeated. just another part of his life that he's royally fucked up. another friend he's going to lose, and this time it's not to circumstances out of his control. not because of bloodshed or shitty calls. this one is purely on him, because he really does lose all sense around you.

instead of slapping him, or yelling at him, like he expects you to— you take pity on him. "are you going to shut the hell up and kiss me?"

there's another long stretch of silence then, the only sign that chris even heard you is the glimmer of hope twinkling in his eye.

"fuck yeah, i am." he smiles, before pulling you into him again.

#chris you mean the absolute world to me #i want to rub his back and tuck him into bed with a lil forehead kiss #one forehead smooch anyone who can list motifs or references #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield imagine #chris redfield fanfiction #chris redfield #resident evil #resident evil imagines #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil 5 #ali writes

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jeonqkooks · 2 years ago

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our beloved summer | jjk (04)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader

genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, drinking, swearing, the word "dick" is mentioned a few times lol, jeon jungkook (yes, bc at this point he's annoying even to me), yoongi is a menace, oc is fighting with everybody asdfgjkl girl 🙄, inaccuracies about music making !! and i hope obs readers aren't music majors bc that'd be really embarrassing for me lol, idk i think that's it

rating: PG-15

word count: 16.3k

note: a major thank you to @daechwitatamic for beta-ing this for me and for doing it so fast!!, you are a gem ily jo 🥺🥰 aaaaaand omg yeah! i can't believe the duck is here. he's finally here!!! ah we love to see it hehehehe :') it feels fitting that obs4 is the one to close off 2022 <3

series masterpost / main playlist ; interactive playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Ask your new lover what it's like to be given A real fighting chance before you wish her, "Good riddance,” Did anything ever really count Or was I just a two-year practice round?

Before - NIKI

Ah, the grand opening of Jimin’s own dance studio. It’s been in the works for a while now, ever since he quit his job as an instructor at that fancy academy downtown.

When you arrive at the venue, the event is already in full swing. You would’ve come sooner, to see Jimin before things get too hectic and more people would want to steal him away to say their congratulations. You could’ve come sooner, had you accepted Jungkook’s offer to drive the both of you here. It’s the less time-consuming option, and one that’s more environmentally conscious, but you didn’t want to be left alone with Jungkook – not after what Namjoon had unintentionally revealed to you – in a space where you couldn’t force him to just talk about work while Jimin went to mingle with his guests, and Taehyung couldn’t get off work any earlier than 6:30.

You have to hand it to Jimin. He really went all out for this. The venue he booked looks amazing, and so much bigger than you expected, but that’s probably to accommodate the shit ton of people he invited tonight. There’s catering, cutesy party favors, and most importantly, an open bar that you absolutely would die for. Bless Jimin and his excessive spending heart.

Although, the photographer that he got for tonight can’t exactly be considered great. He looks young, maybe early 20s and still hasn’t learned how to lose the attitude yet, just walking around with his hefty camera and looking like he has a stick up his ass. He’s definitely being underpaid. Jimin must not have taken this factor into account until he had already exceeded his budget.

“Oh, Jiminie,” you mutter to yourself like a mom whose child just won the school talent show, making a beeline for Jimin and pulling him into a hug, not caring that he’s holding a flute of champagne that could’ve easily spilled onto you. “Jiminie, I’m so proud of you. I know how hard you’ve worked, and you deserve this so much. I love you. You’re going to be amazing.”

Every single syllable that slips from your lips is genuine. You’ve seen how passionate Jimin is, and you know how long this has been a dream of his. In your eyes, he deserves the absolute world and more.

You kiss his cheek to emphasize the meaning behind your words. You’ve never been the sentimental type with your friends except for rare occasions like these. On birthdays, you're not the one to shoot them the first happy birthday! text at 12AM on the dot, nor are you the one to plan surprise parties and go all out on extravagant presents.

You have your own way of showing your friends that you love them without any grand, tacky gestures. You like to think that you’re a good friend, and you hope they think that too.

But… you feel guilty today. You feel guilty for even toying with the idea of not going just because you didn’t want to face Jungkook in a setting that wasn’t the studio. When Taehyung asked if you had gotten the invite and you couldn’t confirm your attendance right away, he looked at you like you were out of your mind. He looked at you like Why wasn’t dropping every single one of your plans not the first thought that comes to mind when you received the text. Because this is Jimin you’re talking about. One of your closest friends. The incredulousness on Taehyung’s face that night made you feel small because really, you were being selfish.

After the breakup, you repeatedly assured Taehyung that he should still be friends with Jungkook, though the petty part of your brain wanted nothing more than to have Taehyung cut off all ties with your ex and tell him to go shove it.

If you weren’t in the picture, they still would’ve bonded the way they did and developed that kind of brotherly connection. Just because you and Taehyung were closer doesn’t mean that he and Jungkook weren’t close. They were close throughout college, and it had nothing to do with the fact that one was your best friend and the other was your boyfriend. That’s why you weren’t particularly fond of making Taehyung lose someone he considered family, even if that man did stomp on your heart to hell and back.

You just had to make it crystal clear to Taehyung – and Jimin by extension – to not put you and Jungkook in the same place ever again.

And that’s exactly what Taehyung and Jimin have been doing these past few years. Birthday parties, nights out and celebratory dinners multiplied by two to keep you and Jungkook separate. It was like you were strangers who never knew each other existed. Different worlds that can’t ever collide. You all got used to this certain arrangement. It works out for everybody: You don’t have to see your ex, and Jimin and Taehyung get to keep their friend. If it isn’t broken, don’t fix it.

The barrier that you forced between you and him worked, but sadly it did put a strain on Taehyung and Jimin’s wallets. You were always a group of five though, until Hoseok moved abroad the very week before college ended. He didn’t even attend graduation. That summer, you weren’t the only one left heartbroken. Hoseok’s parents had turned a 180 and decided to make him pursue another degree to take over the family business instead of continuing to let him follow his dreams, which have always been music and dancing. When he broke the news, you all gathered around and cried together. You were beyond upset for him; you knew how Hoseok shined the brightest when he got to do what he loved.

Since then, he only comes back a couple of times a year. Every time, you would all try and make the most of it, wanting to relive those college days that you cherished so much. But during each of these visits, there is always something bittersweet that you think you all could feel. Because Hoseok wasn’t a constant in your lives anymore. The five of you were thick as thieves. You were there for each other through every high and every low. It’s somber to think that you will never have that ever again.

Hoseok wasn’t there to personally witness what the breakup did to you, but you were certain that he knew about it. Taehyung and Jimin must have told him at some point. You don’t think you’ve ever had a proper conversation with Hoseok about how your relationship with Jungkook ended. He only visits as seldom as it is. You don’t want to spend every reunion wallowing in misery, or make everything about your baggage when everyone has their own shit to deal with.

“Shit, Y/N, why are you being sappy?” Jimin mutters as he blinks at you, eyes glassy, all shy and adorable when he sniffles. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

It isn’t until then that you notice Jungkook standing next to Jimin, having watched the whole interaction with an identical champagne glass in his hand and a small smile on his face.

“Hi,” he says, even though it has only been a couple of hours since you last saw each other.

You send him a nod, merely to acknowledge his presence. Taehyung pulls Jimin into a hug of his own too, swaying him from side to side like they’re in their own little world.

You can feel Jungkook’s gaze on the side of your face but you keep your eyes trained on Taehyung’s back, watching your two friends be dramatic and goofy and happy.

When you deem that they’ve had their fun, you tug Taehyung back by his jacket. “Okay, that’s enough, lovebirds. You’re acting like you don’t see each other every other day. Stop being so clingy.”

“No!” Jimin swats your hand away but lets his friend go regardless. He’s smiling so big that his eyes have turned into narrow slits, pearly whites on full display, cute pinchable cheeks turned rosy from the champagne and euphoria. “Do I look weird? I feel like I look weird. I can’t stop smiling.”

“You don’t look weird,” you say, booping his nose affectionately then ruffling his head of blond hair. “You look perfect.”

Jimin blushes, which makes him even cuter. Then his eyes light up when he spots someone behind you. His hand shoots up to wave the person over to your table as he calls, “Hobi hyung!”

Hobi– what?

You and Taehyung turn around, four eyes flying wide open.

Slapping a hand to Taehyung’s chest, you gasp. “Holy shit. Did you know about this?!”

“No! I’m as shocked as you are!”

Hoseok skips the pleasantries. He just grins brightly and yanks you and Taehyung into him, crushing you two in his hug as he shakes you enthusiastically. When he lets go, he kisses both of your cheeks. He diverts his attention to Jungkook then, yelling out Jaykay! so loudly that people turn to look. He does the same thing to Jungkook as he did to you, enveloping the younger man in a very Hoseok-esque embrace.

“Hobi!” you squeal, completely overjoyed. Taehyung looks about the same as you, the two of you practically bouncing like golden retrievers. “Why didn’t you tell us you were going to be here?”

Hoseok shares a look with Jimin, and they both break out into a fit of giggles. “Obviously I wasn’t going to miss tonight,” he says. “But I’m disappointed in you, Y/N. You should’ve surprised Jimin with me, not the other way around.”

“Wha– Jung Hoseok, you blocked me last month after I sent you that jumpscare video.”

“Oh, right,” he laughs. “In any case, it’s always so good to see all of you simp over me every time I come home.”

“Hobi, I implore you to stop saying ‘simp’ as a grown ass man.”

“Y/N, this grown ass man implores you to stop calling him Hobi.”

It isn’t until now that you start to relax more. Everything feels so much simpler now that Hoseok is here and all of you are together. Catching up with him, you’re always enraptured to hear the stories he has to tell. Even if it’s brief and the bubble has to eventually burst, he never fails to give you that odd sense of peace you’ve been craving since you got older. Hoseok has a way of making time stretch on forever, in a good way.

At one point, he stops talking, noticing something out of place. “Oh? You two…” he gestures between you and Jungkook, and the conversation seems to end here because even Hoseok doesn’t know what to say or what to ask. Clearly Taehyung and Jimin haven’t been doing a very good job at keeping him up to date. Then things just start getting kinda awkward again.

You feel partly to blame. After all, you’re one of the two people making this weird for everybody.

For most of the night, you manage to avoid talking to Jungkook. It’s not that difficult really, with Taehyung practically gluing himself to your side (per your request) and catching up with Hoseok, Jungkook could hardly get a word in with you.

You pat Taehyung on the cheek. “Thanks for sticking with me,” you tell him.

“Of course,” he says. “And y’know, it’s not like you really gave me a choice.”

Your hand that’s still on his cheek goes to pinch it. His cheek is so squishy, it feels like you’re kneading dough. You can’t help but squeeze your fingers a little harder.

“Ah! Okay!” he squeaks out. “Sorry!”

You giggle at his frowny face before giving him another affectionate pat. “Seriously, can you imagine Jungkook seeing me drunk without you to hold me back? That’s one of my worst nightmares.”

Taehyung bites his tongue, remembering the night he had put Jimin on pick up duty and Jungkook had tagged along. Taehyung even recalls the morning after, when he was walking on eggshells around you, trying to figure out if your memory would serve you. When he was positive that it didn’t, he had to thank the heavens for letting him live to see another day.

Because if you ever find out, oh you would kill him. You would knock him to the ground and strangle him with your bare hands. He’s absolutely certain that you would. Knowingly letting your friend’s ex see her absolutely shitfaced and crying over said ex? Now that is heinous.

“Hold this,” Taehyung says now that it’s just the two of you, handing you his glass of whiskey. Hoseok got pulled somewhere so Jimin could introduce him to some of his staff, and Jungkook is… well, you have no idea where he is. “I have to pee.”

“What, now?”

“No, two hours from now. I’m just announcing it in advance,” Taehyung deadpans. “Yes, now!”

“I literally just thanked you.” You glare up at him. He starts to get sassy a couple of drinks in. “I’ll come with you.”

“What, to the men’s bathroom? Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. I don’t even see Jungkook anywhere. He’s probably mingling. C’mon, I’ll be gone two minutes, tops, okay?”

“No, no, no, wait–!” Aaand he’s already jogging away. Great.

You sigh, take a sip of Taehyung’s drink and immediately grimace. You really don’t like whiskey. You find an empty table nearby to put the glass down and loiter. To anyone, you must look like you’ve got a bad case of social anxiety, standing alone and fidgeting like that, but no, what you have is Jungkook anxiety.

As you keep your head down and pull out your phone to make it seem like you actually have something to do instead of waiting for your friend to return from the bathroom, your head bobs gently to the faint music coming from the speakers. Peace lasts for about thirty seconds. You turn to look when someone nudges your shoulder.

“You look beautiful,” Jungkook tells you with a smile that almost blinds you. You have to admit, he’s so handsome tonight, and it’s part of why you’ve been avoiding looking at him since you got here.

You glance down at your outfit. You tend to dress more casually at the studio, but today, you wanted to up the ante a little bit for Jimin. It’s nothing fancy, just a smidge more put-together than what you usually go for. Knee-high boots, a black skirt, a cozy sweater and your favorite winter coat. Actually put on some blush for once to top it all off.

“I’ve looked like this since the morning.”

“I know,” he says. “I’ve been wanting to say it all day.”

It’s the compliment, the sparkling eyes and the soft, warm smile making your face heat up. You bite the inside of your cheek, urging yourself to snap out of it.

The strategy is to deflect. You practically shove your phone in his face with the Gmail app open, making him squint in reflex at the sudden brightness assaulting his eyes. “So Namjoon just sent me this–”

Jungkook takes a step back and brushes your hand away. “Honestly, if it’s fine with you, can we not talk about work?” he chuckles as he says this. “I just got out of the studio. I’d rather not think about it for a minute.”

So it would appear that deflecting is not a viable option.

“Oh, okay.” You nod slowly, putting your phone back into your bag. You are so awkward, and too sober for this, and desperately need your Taehyung-shaped buffer. “Uhm, so… what now?”

Jungkook gives you a quiet chuckle, trying to go over this as nonchalantly as possible. “Friends can talk about things. I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Your brows furrow slightly as you recall what you told Seokjin before. Friends… Jungkook still doesn’t seem to know the definition of the word. Does he think you meant it? That you were actually friends now? He can’t be that fucking dense, can he? When he came knocking at your door not that long ago, has he forgotten that look in your eyes and the door closing in his face when he uttered this exact word to you?

From the start, Jungkook was never your friend.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to do this at the studio and I didn’t want to do it here, today, Jimin’s big day, but I have to ask. What are you doing?”

He blinks, seemingly confused, and it prompts you to continue.

“What is this? What am I supposed to talk about with you if it’s not work?” you say slowly. “You know I was just saying that to not make things awkward for Seokjin and Namjoon, right?” Too slowly, like he’s stupid and you need to enunciate every syllable. You can’t help it.

Jungkook puts his champagne glass on the table. He looks a little lost, and it’s clear that this is a turn that neither of you expected. See, you think, wishing Taehyung would come back right this second to witness this, This is why I need to drink.

“What happened? I thought we were doing fine.”

He took the words right out your mouth, only a few years too late.

Is he serious? He really is that dense?

Your mouth falls open, trying to gauge if you are actually on the same topic, or if you’re even speaking the same language. It can’t be more painfully obvious that you two have been living completely different realities.

“You happened,” you snap, amazed by the fact that you even have to tell him.

You stop short of saying: Fuck you. You unraveled my life like a hurricane and now I have to be the one to remind you of it? You wanted nothing to do with me the last five years and now you’re trying to get me all to yourself?

You can’t help the next question that slips out either. Blame the small part of you that’s been dying to know this since you found out the news from Namjoon. “Why would you think that we’d be fine? Who do you think I am to you?”

Jungkook’s lips part but he doesn’t say anything for nearly half a minute. His face falls just a tad, and you don’t really know what to make of that. His eyes glimmer under the lights. With what, you can’t know for certain. It must be shame. Is it possible that there’s guilt swimming in those irises? Underneath the surface of those brown eyes, is it too much to ask that there be some regret too?

You think the question nicked him somewhere you can’t see. Call it wishful thinking, but you hope it’s the same place that he has always cut into you.

Bleed. Bleed like you made me bleed.

Finally, he says, “You’re…”

Then, Jimin practically shouts into a mic that he has procured somewhere. Wonderful timing, blondie.

“Can everyone gather at the front for a group photo please? I’m going to hang it on the wall!”

You don’t know if you should be frustrated or grateful for the interruption. That void that you used to fill with anger and resentment is now bubbling with something else. No matter how hard you try to swallow it all down, you know it won’t stop until you overflow, until you’re swallowed whole by that grief again. You feel foolish. Cheap. Hard to love, hard to keep. He meant the world to you but to him, turns out you were merely replaceable.

You turn away from Jungkook in favor of another chaos. In the midst of the grand Park family – Jimin’s many cousins, bubbly nieces and nephews who all want to be in the center of the photo – you get pushed to the side. There’s too many people here. It’ll probably end up looking like one of those company pictures where at least half the people have their eyes closed and the other half look like they can’t wait to get out of there. You don’t know where Taehyung is, if he’s even back from the bathroom. You’re so tired. So drained, all of a sudden. You miss your bed and your comfy pillows and your warm fluffy blanket. You want to sink into it and melt like a piece of marshmallow on hot chocolate.

You stand there awkwardly on the very edge, aware of Jungkook loitering a couple of steps from you as you both wait for people to make up their mind on where to stand. You can tell that the photographer is getting frustrated when he finally steps in to guide the older people when they start looking like buffering Sims. You don’t even know where Jimin and Hoseok are either.

“Okay, is everyone ready?” the photographer asks, his voice unamused as he raises the camera to look through the viewfinder. He doesn’t even wait for any confirmation and just starts counting down. No doubt about it, Jimin is definitely underpaying this guy. “Three, two, o– Wait. You on the left. No, my left. Yes, you, guy in the black coat. Could you stand closer? You’re almost out of the frame.”

Jungkook – “guy in the black coat” – shuffles closer until you can smell his familiar cologne over the overwhelming floral scent radiating off the woman next to you. He moves until the photographer gives his nod of approval, until your arms touch. It makes you nervous, even through the layers of clothes. What was he going to say? What did you want him to say? What could be a good enough answer?

You all smile as the camera clicks a few times. You might’ve had your eyes closed in one of the shots. Seriously, you have to make Jimin show you the picture before he commemorates his wall with it. If you have to be immortalized on a wall next to your ex, then at least you should look good.

Everybody disperses after that; some going to bid Jimin goodbye as they end the night and go home, some returning to their previously established groups to chat some more. You feel like now is probably a good time to leave.

You move to go find Taehyung, but someone stops you. A warm hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you back. You glance at where Jungkook’s skin touches yours, then your eyes flicker up to meet his. They don’t let you move, and neither do the words he says next. His face is softer than you’ve witnessed in a while. No teasing, no bravado. Just honesty.

“You’re someone important to me.”

Oof. Two strikes in one night.

It makes you angry for some reason – his honesty. Because it really looks like he believes it to be true.

This is the last thing you wanted, fighting when you’re supposed to be celebrating Jimin, but you suppose it’s happening. “I can’t tell if you mean it or if you’re just playing with me,” you say.

Jungkook pales a shade as you stare at him with hard eyes.

“I do mean it,” he says. He looks down at your hand, his fingers on your wrist twitching.

“If that were really the case, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” you tell him. “If I were really important to you, you wouldn’t have screwed me over like that. If I were really important, you wouldn’t be here right now, acting like I’m something you can throw away whenever you feel like it, and pick back up like nothing ever happened. You know, I was starting to be okay. I was starting to get used to it and you just had to come waltzing back into my life. Do you know how important this is to me? That this is my dream I get to live but I’m just trying to survive it and never have to see you again? Why can’t you just– Fuck.”

You choke on the last of it, knowing that if you keep going, you will cry, and your pride won’t let you break down in front of your friends and strangers alike. In front of Jungkook. You count each breath in your head to steady yourself until your lungs feel less like they’re going to burn out of oxygen.

You’re surprised that you were able to say that without much liquid courage. You’re glad that you’re standing near the corner of the room where nobody is really paying attention to you. Jungkook lets go of your wrist, visibly gulping as he does so. It feels like there’s an entire orchestra in here – people talking, music playing, all echoing around the room – and you suppose you’re thankful for that. He can’t hear your heart screaming over the noises. If you weren’t sure if he was feeling ashamed before, then you’re sure now. He should be ashamed, for everything he put you through. If you could, you would give it back to him ten times worse.

Quietly, Jungkook says, “I’m sorry,” and then nothing else.

You swear you can hear a clock go tick, tock, tick, tock… The passage of time is so palpable, like something you can hold in your hands. Minutes upon minutes, hours upon hours, days upon days - they sit in the palm of your hands but amount to nothing at all. They slip through your fingers again. Nothing is guaranteed, you realize belatedly then, certainly not closure. You’re never going to get it right. He’s always going to blindside you.

And no matter how hard you try to keep him at bay, he’s always going to get under your skin.

Stop slipping. Stop slipping. Stop slipping.

“Huh,” you mutter to yourself, bitterly, confusedly, amusedly, “I thought that would feel better.”

“What?” he asks.

“Hearing you say sorry. Did you know that you never said sorry to me?”

“It’s not– I–” he stutters. How could he possibly object to that? It’s the truth. It’s the absolute and pathetic truth. He leaves the sentence unfinished like the history of the two of you, half written until he decided that he was done with it. Time would not tell the rest, and all you were left with were blank pages that no one could fill. “I’m sorry,” he ends up saying again, as if repeating it would make the words have more gravity. If that is his intention then you suppose he succeeds, because it makes your heart heavier.

“I’m trying to do right by you.”

You consider it for a second. When you turn away, you find Taehyung across the room, already looking at you, though you don’t think he can hear anything from where he’s standing. Your friend has ‘worried’ written all over his face.

“Are you trying to do right by me? Or by you?” you ask, and then something starts to sink in. You spent so much time thinking about it, wondering where everything went wrong. Going around in circles, dwelling, trying to put together puzzle pieces that just won’t fit. That’s time that you can never get back. You’ve always known that at some point, you would have to let it all go. Maybe now is that point. Let go of things that you have no control over. You’re only burning yourself by holding on. Isn’t it better to let it scar than to keep picking at the wound and making it bleed? “Actually, it doesn’t even matter anymore. What’s the point? I’ve come to terms with it. You can do whatever you want to feel better. Just do it by yourself. Don’t use me.”

Jungkook frowns. “I’m not using you.”

You manage to suppress the urge to scoff. “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing? Thinking you could come back and sweet talk me and then you’d be absolved just like that?”

“I know you must hate me,” he says. “...for everything.”

“I do.” No fucking shit. “If you know that, then why are you doing this?” Don’t push it, your brain says, but the way he’s staring at the ground, unable to meet your eyes, looking like a puppy you just kicked makes you annoyed. “Did you know that the first time I ever saw you, I hated you?” you ask, making his eyes flit up to yours. “I wish we could’ve left it at that.”

When his face flashes with hurt, you almost feel bad even though you wished for this. His jaw clenches as you walk away, leaving him there by himself.

“Wanna head home?” Taehyung asks before you have to even say anything. He regards you with soft and apologetic eyes, with a gentle hand on your arm and concern still etched onto his features. Taehyung is a warm summer’s breeze compared to the desolate winter that Jungkook has made of you. You answer with a simple nod.

“Wait for me by the car. I’ll say bye to Jimin and be right out,” Taehyung tells you.

“Okay.”

He puts an arm around your shoulder and squeezes you once. “Sorry about that by the way… There was a line for the bathroom.”

Monday comes too soon.

You have to face Jungkook again too soon.

“Unclench your butt.”

You snap your head to the sound of Yoongi’s voice right next to your ear. His tone is teasing, and his face even more so. The man’s got way too much energy for 9 in the morning.

“Excuse me?” you grumble. You’ve been standing outside the studio for almost ten minutes now, letting your nerves eat away at you because you know Jungkook is already here. You saw his car earlier.

“Your butt,” your friend says. “It’s too clenched.”

“You were looking at my butt?” You give him a disapproving look.

“Only because you look like you’re trying to hold in a shit.” Yoongi shrugs indifferently. “Why are you standing out here anyway?”

Your fingers twitch around the strap of your bag as you try to give him a nonchalant answer. “Trying to manifest the death of capitalism before you interrupted me.”

“Mhmm,” he says, eyeing you suspiciously like a distrusting cat. “Spill. What happened?”

“What happened with what?”

“I know you went to your friend’s thing on Friday. And I know Jungkook was there too. So what happened?”

You debate whether or not you should tell Yoongi. It’s not like you have anything to hide; he already knows about your history anyway. But he’s been the most insufferable toward Jungkook in the short time that he’s been here, and giving him the goss on your little conversation the other day would only give him another reason to be an even bigger menace. You bite your tongue, and put on the most neutral expression you can manage.

“Nothing happened,” you say. “You’re being nosy, Min.”

You push open the door to be greeted by an incredibly cheerful Seokjin and Namjoon. Why is everyone so bubbly on a Monday morning? Have they always been like this, or do you just feel like everything coming out of their mouths is sunshine and rainbows compared to the black cloud hovering over your head?

Seems like you aren’t the only one dreading the new week though. Jungkook visibly stiffens as you enter, completely devoid of that easy-going smile he always greets you with. “Hey,” he tells you.

“Morning,” you reply. To him, to Seokjin, to Namjoon. You take a seat at your usual corner, setting down your bag and pulling out your pen and notebook.

Seokjin launches into conversation with Yoongi about a basketball game. Apparently there was one last night, but you don’t really care about that. Namjoon doesn’t seem to have much interest in the topic either, choosing to weigh in with an occasional hum here and there to be polite.

Like you, Jungkook is quiet. He knows enough about basketball to hold a conversation but you know it’s never been his favorite thing in the world. Normally though, even if he isn’t particularly knowledgeable in the matter at hand, he would still act like he’s genuinely absorbed in whatever everyone was talking about, just to be friendly and sociable. He was always very good at networking; that’s why people loved him in college. From what you’ve seen, that trait carried over into adulthood as well.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Jungkook fidget in his chair. He turns his head every once in a while to glance at you, which doesn’t go unnoticed by you, nor Yoongi for that matter. Yoongi nudges your knee with his own, prompting a curious look from you. He leans closer to your ear and lowers his voice so that nobody can hear.

“Jungkook looks like his butt is pretty clenched too.”

Your grip on the pen loosens as you swirl it around absentmindedly, humming to yourself the melody off the page as if it’ll summon words to the sheet, where it’s mostly blank beneath all the squiggly music notes. The men – with the exception of Namjoon; he’s out for the day – gather around, discussing the first demo track. You drown most of it out. Your job here isn’t to wring out the kinks with the technical aspects anyway.

“We could record something for the rough demo today,” Yoongi thinks out loud.

“Today?” Jungkook asks as he arches an eyebrow. “For what track? We don’t have a single thing completely finished yet?”

“Buddy, are you a glass half empty kind of guy?” Yoongi jokes. “From what I see, we have at least four tracks halfway done. That’s enough for us to record.”

The younger man leans back in his chair and crosses his arms in front of his chest, highly annoyed but he still tries to keep a straight face and an even voice. It’s his first big project, and this fucking person is coming in and stepping all over his toes. To Jungkook, Yoongi is just some guy. He has never understood what the hype was about with Agust D, why he has always been a massive media darling and why everybody seems so enamored with him. Seokjin talks about him like Jungkook should feel so privileged to have the opportunity to work with such talent. Namjoon, his own freaking mentor, practically idolizes Yoongi. He almost passed out from glee when he heard that Yoongi would be coming on board. Even when the label was trying to get the rapper to sign with them, Jungkook never got what all the fuss was about.

It’s almost frustrating to watch people around him fawn over Yoongi like he hangs the moon in the sky. If you feel the same way about him, you don’t let it show, but Jungkook can tell that you admire and respect the guy a lot. He just can’t figure out what the deal is between you and Yoongi. Something is there. If not from your side then definitely from Yoongi’s. He seems too protective of you. Taehyung is the same way, and so are Jimin and Hoseok, but with them, Jungkook understands. They’ve been friends with you since forever, and he can’t imagine that your friendship with Yoongi can ever be that special.

“I disagree,” Jungkook asserts. “It’s a waste of time to make a demo now when we’d have to do it all over again later. At this point, all we’ll get is scraps. It wouldn’t help us get anywhere.”

Yoongi glances at Seokjin, who’s been watching but not really contributing, and they both share a look. It makes Jungkook want to get more fired up because he is supposed to be in charge here, but Yoongi is clearly more in tune with what Seokjin wants and how he operates. Jungkook will be the first one to say that he is not the best team player, but at least he tries. It usually works out just fine in the end, once he can get his ego out of the way to actually get something done, but this time it’s proving to be quite the challenge when it seems like Yoongi is constantly trying to hinder him.

“Jungkook, look.” Even the way he says his name is irritating. “I’ve been doing this way longer than you have, buddy. I was a producer before I became a rapper. I think I know what I’m doing here.”

“And I see why you would think this is a good idea, but I’m saying it’s a waste of time and effort to do this when we’ll just have to redo the whole process later. You want a summer release. We don’t have the time, and do we even have enough budget–”

Yoongi tilts his head to one side with an amused smile. “Are you sure this is the right business for you? Should you be in risk assessment instead? Why are you here worrying about budgets and timing? That’s the whole point of doing preliminary demos, to help you see what direction to take and guide the creative process–”

“Okay, okay. Retract the claws, fellas,” Seokjin jumps in this time. “I’m with Yoongi on this one, JK. Take it easy, man.”

Jungkook tongues his cheek and nods begrudgingly. He makes it seem like he’s taking it in stride, tucking his chagrin behind a mask of indifference. Yoongi shrugs with a triumphant grin, clasping his hands together as he gestures both Seokjin and Jungkook to the soundbooth.

“What?” The younger man stares at the other two. “You want me in there too?”

“Yeah, just to test some stuff out. You have a nice voice,” Yoongi admits, and even though he’s being genuine for once, Jungkook still feels like it’s condescending somehow. Anything that comes out of Yoongi’s mouth is patronizing to him. “Couldn’t hurt to see how it would sound like with Jin hyung. Maybe we could even use it later.”

You’ve been trying to keep your head down and shut out all the sounds. Sounds of Jungkook fucking singing. Why did Min Yoongi have to force him into the box?

Back then, you used to tell him that he’s good enough to be a singer. He’d sing you to sleep whenever you were plagued with insomnia, or when you were sick, or just whenever you wanted him to. His voice always soothed you, made you feel warm all over.

As if ignoring him today wasn’t difficult enough already.

“You’re bleeding.” You hear someone say a while later.

Your head snaps up to see what’s going on. Somebody’s bleeding? How did that happen? But Seokjin and Jungkook are still in the booth, both looking at the paper that Jungkook is holding, talking to each other about something you can’t catch. You scan the room, brows furrowed, until you see Yoongi looking at you.

“Huh?” He points toward your hands. “You’re bleeding.”

Your eyes follow his line of sight until they land on what he’s staring at. You put the pen on the table and flex your hands. He’s exaggerating, they aren’t bleeding. Well, technically, they are if you count the reddened patches of cracked skin between your knuckles as bleeding. Your hands are just dry because the weather is cold. It happens. Dramatic Yoongi.

You wave him off with a smile. “Eh. It’s fine. I’ll put some lotion on it when I get home,” you lie. You don’t even have any hand cream. You’ve only tried using a dollop of body lotion on your hands once, but you didn’t like how your skin just felt so sticky afterward that it would leave visible prints when you touched your phone screen.

Yoongi shakes his head lightly. “No, you won’t. I’ve noticed that for a few days now.”

You level him with a look. “What are you, the hand police? It’s just dry hands. I’m not gonna die from that.”

“No, you‘re not,” Yoongi agrees, but regardless, he stands up and walks to retrieve his bag from where he left it on the couch. You watch with curiosity as he rummages through it until he pulls out a white tube of something. He crosses the distance to get to where you’re sitting and settles into the chair next to you. He reaches for your hands then, and says, “But do it for my sake. I don’t wanna look at your ugly witch's hands all day.”

“Yoongi!” you hiss, instantly scowling and failing to push him off when his stronger hand grasps one of your own. He pops open the tube and squeezes some of the cream onto your skin. “What are you doing?!”

“Hold still,” he says because you keep squirming. When the sheer weight of your glare on his face makes him look up at you, Yoongi actually glares back at you. Gasp. “Hold still,” he repeats firmly.

You huff out a breath in annoyance. You glance at the booth to see if the guys are looking, but Seokjin still appears to be focused on the music sheet. You see and faintly hear him humming, his fingers tapping the air like he’s counting the beats. Jungkook, though… Jungkook is looking.

In the few seconds that your eyes meet his, you can tell that he’s trying to understand whatever the hell he’s watching here. You feel your cheeks heat up and you don’t really know if it’s because of Jungkook’s hard gaze on you or the feeling of Yoongi’s hands on your hands. You quickly turn away, missing the way the man in the booth pokes his tongue into a cheek.

You try to kick Yoongi in the shin but he manages to block your foot with his knee. He tuts at you disapprovingly. You watch him with a petulant frown as he rubs the cream into the back of your hand, between your knuckles, over each of your fingers. It feels expensive, though you would expect nothing less from Min Yoongi. The cream soaks into your skin right away, unlike that body lotion of yours that was obviously not made for this purpose.

“You’re so overreacting over nothing,” you tell him.

“No, I’m not. Y/N, your hands were starting to look like coconut shavings,” he says casually, still focused on being your self-appointed hand masseuse it seems. “Is he looking?”

“What?”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi clarifies, his eyes darting up to your face for a brief second. “Is he looking?”

You exhale through your nose. “He was,” you say flatly, quite displeased with his shenanigans. “Yoongi, I told you not to do shit like this.”

His movements gradually slow. You don’t think there’s any more product on the surface left to absorb anyway. “I’m not doing this because of Jungkook, I promise,” he says, not pulling away just yet, letting his skin linger on yours. His head is still tilted downward, his gaze seemingly glued to where his thumb is swiping over your fingers. Jungkook used to do this too - absentmindedly playing with your fingers. It’s cute, and you hate to admit that the little things like this make you feel warm. You clench your jaw just once. Maybe it’s a guy’s thing.

For a moment, you actually think that he’s being sincere. About what, you don’t know. Then Yoongi looks up at you, eyes crinkling as he grins. “But pissing him off is definitely a huge plus.”

“You’re insufferable,” you tell Yoongi, rolling your eyes and shoving him away with your now moisturized hands. You gotta be honest, they do look and feel a lot better. Maybe you should pick some lotion up after work. You won’t tell Yoongi this, but you tried the exact one he just used on you a while back, in a store, and it smelled so good that you thought about it for two whole weeks. But when you saw the price tag, you immediately recoiled. It was one of the brands wherein the products were more expensive than the city’s median rent, so no wonder Yoongi would be the one to have something of theirs. Different tax brackets, you think.

Yoongi stumbles a little from your push. When he stands up, he takes one of your hands again, opening your palm and placing the tube there. “Use it every night before bed,” he instructs, like he’s a pharmacist and you’re just someone waiting to pick up their prescription.

“What?” You look at him, so serious and kind of offended. “Yoongi, I am not using your old shit!”

He sighs, wrapping your fingers around the tube so you would hold it there. “I don’t even use hand cream. I got that for you yesterday.”

Jungkook is so done. It’s been such a long week and it’s only the first day of the fucking week. After feeling so utterly helpless around you, losing to Yoongi and then watching Yoongi have his little moment with you right in front of him, Jungkook fully intends to drive straight to Jimin’s and raid his liquor cabinet until he gets a grip and figures out what to do on the you front. Especially since you called him out like that.

Jungkook hasn’t been able to focus in over an hour, after you left to go home, but he’s still cognizant enough to save the bits that he and Seokjin recorded earlier. He has witnessed how pissed Namjoon can get when they lose files due to carelessness, and no matter how level-headed his mentor usually is even in the most stressful of situations, Jungkook absolutely does not want to be on the receiving end of Namjoon’s scoldings when the man lets anger get the best of him.

Jungkook glances at the corner that you usually occupy with your nose buried in your notebook. It’s so empty in here; everyone else has already left. He sits there, heavy with so many realizations all at once. It feels like college all over, only this time, he isn’t just a stupid kid with a crush and a weird way of showing affection. He’s hurting you again. No matter what he does, he just keeps making it worse for you and him.

You were right, and it must’ve taken a lot for you to say what you said to him. It was crazy, and foolish, and most of all cruel for Jungkook to think he could patch things up with a smile. He knew how devastated he left you. Didn’t need to see the mess he made to know how much it fucked you up. Didn’t need anyone to tell him – even though his friends all tried – to know how unbelievably heartless it was to abandon the person who loved him the most. But back then, he believed he was doing the right thing. That’s how he coped with it, by trusting that it was the best decision he could make at the time.

He still remembers that day like it was merely 24 hours ago.

The obliviousness in your voice when he told you he was coming over to talk and you said you had exciting news to share. The way he had cried in the car on his way over, pulled himself together just long enough to say “I’m breaking up with you,” and watched your eager smile drop. He could practically feel your heart in his open palm, crumbling to nothing as he gave it back to you. Like he was saying “I don’t want it anymore.” He remembers crying again on the drive after.

Everything is different now, but if he could go back, even with the knowledge of the fallout, he would still choose to do the same.

There was no point in telling Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok, or just about anyone, why he felt like he had to do it. They would’ve just called him stupid and told you. He’s sure that if you knew then, you would try to reason with him, maybe you would even beg. And if you had begged him to stay, then there was no way he could follow through.

Jungkook locks up the studio and leaves. When he passes Jihyo at the reception, he hears her call his name but he pretends that he doesn’t. He’s too tired for this tonight. He just wants a drink, and he just wants to see you even though you were with him all day.

Skipping the parking lot for now, Jungkook walks to the nearby store, wanting to bring something over to Jimin’s or else the older man will just grumble at him for coming empty handed. When he rounds the corner, he sees you walking by yourself in the small park across the street. Your hands are shoved in your pockets while you stare up at the starless night. Jungkook thinks you should belong in a painting.

He stands there curiously. If you looked straight ahead, you would see him. But you seem preoccupied with the clouds floating through the dark blue, too lost in thought to notice much. Your hand comes up when something lands on your face. A second later, Jungkook feels something wet and cold against his cheek too. He remembers.

He pulls out his phone, fiddles with it for a minute as he contemplates, and ultimately decides to tap on your name in his contacts. Pressing the device against his ear, he listens to it ring, and watches you fish your own phone from your bag. He takes note of the furrow between your brows, the fleeting clench of your teeth. He almost thinks you wouldn’t pick up, but you do.

“Hello?” you answer uncertainly.

“Hey,” Jungkook says, “where are you?”

“Uhm…” There’s a pause. He wonders if you would lie. “Just out getting some air. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just… in front of you right now.”

Confusion overtakes your features. When your gaze crosses the street to land on him, you let out a small Oh, and give him a small awkward wave. He ends the call and rushes over, even though he doesn’t know what to say to you. He watches you wince, because you always hated whenever he jaywalked. It makes him smile a little.

“Hi,” you say as Jungkook stands in front of you.

“Hi,” he returns. “Mind if I join you?”

You stare up at him for a few seconds before deciding, “Yeah, sure.”

“What are you still doing here? You left like two hours ago,” he says. You walk together further into the park, where lonely lamp posts dimly light your path.

You shrug. “I went to get dinner and just… I don’t know. Felt like I could use some fresh air.”

“In this weather? It’s snowing.”

You both watch the breath that you huff out. “Well, it didn’t start snowing until you got here.”

The first snow, or just snow in general, is never as romantic as they make it seem in the movies. Sure it’s pretty, and when the ground is covered in a thick blanket of snow, it makes for a good Instagram story. But in reality? Snow is so fucking dirty, and when it starts melting, it is absolute hell for everybody. Your weather app didn’t say that it would snow today, but you should’ve known better than to trust that damn thing.

Jungkook hums, and silence falls over you like the snow, making everything so damp and gross. You hope it stops soon.

When some snowflakes land directly on your cheek, you wipe the moisture away with mild annoyance. “I hate snow,” you grumble, pulling your scarf tighter. If you had known that it would snow, you would’ve worn something with a hood and your sturdier boots.

Jungkook chuckles lightly as he watches you hiss when some snowflakes land on your head, startling your skin with its frost and slowly dampening your hair. “You don’t hate it,” he says. “You just hate it when you’re walking in the snow. I know you.”

The universe doesn’t give you time to dwell on that last comment. The ground beneath you turns slippery as you keep walking. You yelp loudly when your sneaker-clad feet skid on the thin ice sheet that the snow has created. You’re fully prepared for your ass to hit the pavement and consequently bruise in about half an hour, but Jungkook catches you with both hands on your waist, pulling you flush against him so you don’t hit the ground. Unlike you, his shoes have more traction.

Your heart hammers from the suddenness of the last thirty seconds. You can see each heavy breath that leaves your mouth and promptly dissipates into the cold air. You don’t realize that your hands are gripping his shoulders to help steady yourself, as if he doesn’t already have his arms wrapped securely around you, and you realize then that wow, this is the closest he’s been to you in years. It’s unbearable just how much you’ve missed being in his arms.

Just two people on an empty street, tangled up in each other, the falling snow your only audience – you look like you’ve landed yourself right in a romance drama, but in reality, this is anything but that.

You clear your throat and shuffle backward, out of his strong hold, careful not to trip and make a fool of yourself any more than you already have. “Thanks,” you say. “I should head home. It’s getting late.”

Jungkook nods. “Do you want to walk back to the company? I can give you a ride home.”

You consider this. The street is steadily being swallowed up by layers of white, and you don’t doubt that it will only be more difficult to navigate the road by yourself as the night gets darker and colder. Cabs are running more sparsely. It would take you forever to get home, especially in weather that makes you feel like a calf learning to walk for the first time.

“Yeah,” you agree, “sure, okay.”

The walk back to the building’s parking lot is mostly silent, and so is the ride to your apartment. You’ve never felt the first snow on your skin before, having always preferred to stay indoors on nights forecasted to experience snowfall. There’s something so wistful about witnessing the inauguration of winter yourself, how these delicate flowers of ice not only herald the ending of a season and the beginning of a new one, but also signal that another chapter of your life is about to close forever. It prompts you to mull over the last 12 months, to see if you’ve accomplished anything you set out to achieve or if you’ve wasted an entire year of your life. To share a moment like this with Jungkook makes you wonder if the universe is trying to send you a sign.

When the car stops at a red light a few blocks away from your place, you take the time to watch the snowflakes twirling outside the window. They wander in front of you, free yet aimless, like they’re asking if they could come in and seek refuge from the freezing cold. Not knowing warmth would be the thing that kills them. Adrift with the gentle wind until they land on the glass, only to die a mere second later. You break the silence.

“It’s kinda nice now,” you say, eyeing the marshmallow-looking ice that’s starting to pile up all around while you’re sheltered by the warmth of his car.

“See?” Jungkook chuckles. “Told you you only hate snow when you have to walk in it.”

“Hmm.” It’s true. You don’t want to admit it, but he did know you. Knew what drove you and what made you tick. Knew how your brain worked and how your heart moved. Knew that you loved him long before you could say it out loud.

Even when you lied that he doesn’t know you anymore, deep down you’re very well aware that he still does.

“Can I ask you this one thing, though?” you say calmly, but something must alert him that you aren’t looking to talk about the weather or some other meaningless shit. Jungkook doesn’t give you a verbal answer, nor any other indication that you can go ahead and voice your question. He just looks at you before the light turns green, like he doesn’t really want you to ask anything but he has no other choice but to let you. Like he’s scared of what you might demand from him.

It’s okay. You weren’t asking for permission anyway.

“Did I…” love you enough? Was there a single moment where you thought I didn’t love you? “Back then,” you swallow, keeping your eyes on the snowy streets that turn into ivory blurs as the car starts moving again, “did I ever make you feel like you weren’t enough?”

Your ears don’t pick up on much sound in the infinite pocket of seconds that follows. Not the low hum of the car’s radiator, nor the wind that becomes harsher right outside the window. Just his breathing and the beat of your own heart, drowning in the anticipation of his answer.

What if he says yes? Would it mean that after all this time that you spent blaming him, it’s been your fault all along? Were you the one that drove him away?

“No,” he says, interrupting that voice in your head. “Not once.”

You don’t doubt that he’s telling you the truth, but it doesn’t make you feel better. His tone tells you there’s more than he’s letting on, but it doesn’t matter now. Before Friday night, Taehyung had asked if you would ask Jungkook the question, and after some consideration, you had said no. Maybe if it were a couple of years ago, or even a few months back when you saw him again, you would have said yes. You used to think that if he ever came back for whatever reason, the first thing you would ask him is why. You would confront him, demand an answer, make him walk you through every single thought he had before he decided to ruin your life.

But no answer could change the fact that he did leave. There is no excuse good enough to justify how he left you so completely crushed. Sure, knowing would give you some of the closure that you were desperately seeking at one point, but what if it makes everything worse? What if he left because he was looking for something, something more than you could give? What if he found it, only to realize then that it wasn’t worth leaving you for after all?

Now, at least you know that your efforts were felt. You did the best you could, loved him the best way you knew how.

The man beside you clears his throat. You only notice now that Jungkook has already pulled up in front of your building. You haven’t spoken much before tonight, not about what happened at Jimin’s party. You weren’t sure how to bring it up, or if you should even bring it up. He seemed like he was trying to avoid the topic too. You had the weekend to relive every moment of that night over and over, and you obviously don’t want to talk about it, but you have to address it sooner or later if you want to move forward in peace.

“Hey, uhm, about the other night…” you start.

He stiffens a bit, and then sighs. “I know,” he says. “You were right. It’s not fair of me to–”

“I’m sorry,” you cut him off firmly. “Some of the things I said were harsh, and I’m sorry.”

Jungkook looks at you in surprise. His ears must deceive him, because, “Why are you apologizing?”

“I told you. I was harsh and it was uncalled for.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he says, frowning. He twists his body to face you. “I deserved it. You were right to call me out. Don’t backtrack.”

You stare at him with your lips pursed. “Why are you trying to argue right now?”

“Because I deserve your rage. Be mad at me.”

“I am mad at you,” you tell him but there’s no bite. You’re softening, loosening your grip while he’s the only one trying to hold on. “But I don’t want to be anymore.”

“Why not? You should. You have every right.”

“Jungkook, it’s been five years,” you chuckle without much humor, thinking back to what you’ve been doing in the last half a decade. Stalking your ex online, mourning your lost love every time he gets into a new relationship, holding out hope. And for what? What’s the point of it all? It’s not like you and him are going to get back together again. It’s a waste of time, time that you could spend trying to let him go and move on, whether he gives you that closure or not. “I’m tired and I just want to get on with my life. I don’t want to keep being bitter about it. What good will that do?”

His face is so serious all of a sudden, like he wants you to actually scream at him. Curse him out. Anything. “Then what do you want me to do?”

“Don’t feel like you have to make amends, or do anything right by me. Can we just, I don’t know, let the past remain in the past? I don’t want to make our friends feel like they have to act a certain way around me when it comes to you. It’s my problem, not theirs. I don’t want to make them uncomfortable anymore. So please, I’m not asking for anything else. I just want us all to… move forward.”

It’s then that he sees, oh, maybe you do belong in a painting. Sitting right in front of him but you’re so far away. He was once the artist but now, he’s merely a spectator. “Do you mean that?” he asks quietly.

“Yes, Jungkook. I’m really tired,” you say. “Why would you of all people want to be reminded of what happened?”

He swallows thickly. You can tell that he isn’t too fond of the idea, even if what you’re proposing gives him a way out. It lets him off the hook. But for some reason, he’s hesitant to take it, might be resisting it even. You can’t bring yourself to understand why, but eventually, he says, “Okay. If that’s what you really want.”

He doesn’t put up much of a fight, though it doesn’t exactly sound like an affirmation, but who even cares?

“Right, then,” you mumble, unbuckling your seatbelt and gripping the strap of your bag. “Good night. See you tomorrow.”

He says it back, and lets you go with a strained smile.

Yoongi’s fingers tap on his knees to the beat of the music playing in the background. You were surprised when he called you on a Saturday, asking if you were free, telling you that he had something to say. You didn’t have any plans and Yoongi said he was treating you, and well, you don’t need to be convinced further.

Here you are, in a fancy restaurant, sharing a tiramisu with Min Yoongi. How nice. You thought he’d have better plans than just hanging out with little old you.

“Will you please just tell me now?” you say, looking at him with playful puppy dog eyes. You take another bite of the dessert, and practically have to stifle a moan when the sweetness melts in your mouth. You honestly think you have romantic feelings for this tiramisu. “I’ve been waiting for like two hours.”

Yoongi swirls the wine in his glass before he brings it to his lips and takes a sip, all the while looking at you, so happy with the treat that you’re supposed to share but he doesn’t even touch. When he sets his glass down, he calls your name, making you glance up.

“Do you still… y’know… Jungkook?”

You stare at him back, confused. “Do I still I know Jungkook?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Don’t make me spell it out. You’ll just beat me if I say it.”

“Oh, so it’s something annoying then? Then please, keep it to yourself.”

“Okay, then,” he says, smiling so obnoxiously because he knows you’re too curious.

Give it a minute.

“Oh my god, fine,” you give up, drawing out the sentence exasperatedly. “Do I still what Jungkook?”

Yoongi regards your face teasingly. “Do you still have feelings for him?”

Your entire body goes rigid. You don’t even try to hide the way your face falls upon hearing his question. What’s the point? He’ll just see right through you anyway.

“You took me out to dinner just to ask me that?”

He nods. “Yeah, among other things.”

“I mean…” You set down your spoon. No one has ever asked you that before, and it’s not a question that you yourself have considered. Jungkook still affects you, that much is clear. Thinking about your relationship still affects you. Does that mean that you have lingering feelings for him? You’ve yet to solve this, and truth be told, you aren’t sure if you would like the conclusion it leads you to. You give Yoongi a vague answer, because even you yourself don’t know what the truth is. But it doesn’t matter, now that you’ve made the active decision to let it all go. “I’m trying to move on.”

“Hmm.” He doesn’t seem very satisfied with your choice of words. “Do you still hate him then?”

This, you don’t really need to ruminate much on. “I think part of me will always hate him for what he did.” And part of you will always love him in spite of what he did.

Yoongi leans forward with both of his arms on the table, contemplating how he should word this. You deserve flowery words and romantic grand gestures, but alas Yoongi is blunt, and sometimes rough around the edges. He has great timing too. Just as you raise a glass of water to your mouth to soothe your dry throat, he says, “Let me be your revenge dick.”

It makes you choke, sending water down every wrong pipe as you cough harshly. It dribbles down your chin and a few drops plop! onto your light wash jeans. You’re glad it wasn’t wine. You would’ve killed him if he made you stain your newly bought trousers. While you try to hold onto dear life, he has the audacity to fucking laugh. When you kick his shin under the table, he hands you a few napkins. It takes you another minute to calm down.

“What the actual fuck?” you hiss. The little “incident” earns you a few weird looks from people sitting nearby. It’s so embarrassing, but Yoongi is acting like it’s the funniest shit he’s ever seen.

“Let me be your revenge d–”

“I heard you the first time, Jesus Christ. Please don’t say the word “dick” to me ever again. In fact, please stop talking altogether. Please don’t open your mouth ever again.”

He does not abide by your request, opening his stupid mouth again and thus cementing his place as your least favorite person in the entire world right this minute. You lost half your brain cells listening to that one singular sentence. Jesus fucking God. Who in their right mind would utter something like that? And to you, no less? Fuck. Men.

One of these days, you swear you will pop an aneurysm. It’s so ridiculous that it’s not even funny. But Yoongi just keeps talking like you’re asking him to elaborate.

“What I’m saying is… use me.”

“For what?” You’re genuinely so perplexed as to what the point of this conversation is, or where it’s even going. This man has a way of surprising you more and more each day.

“For revenge dicking purposes.”

You do your best to suppress a shudder. Where did that term even come from? “Oh my god, why do you keep saying that? We’re in public! What if someone hears you?!”

The man sitting across from you grins, showcasing his pearly whites, clearly very amused by your reactions. “You gotta show Jungkook what he’s missing. Make him regret it.”

“Min Yoongi,” you say slowly. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“No. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been this serious,” Yoongi answers. “Let me be your arm candy. I’m very good at that.” You’re very curious about who raised him and how he turned out to be this way. You can’t believe you have to tolerate him sometimes.

You give it another minute before you say, “I’ll have you know that Jungkook and I had a very productive talk. We’re in a much better place now, so your… whatever services won’t be necessary.”

He leans back, eases up, and stares at you thoughtfully. Like he doesn’t really believe you. Like the cogs of his mind are once again turning. “Okay, that’s even better. I don’t have to be the rebound. I can just be your main piece.”

Looking at him pleadingly, you bemoan, “Yoongi, why are you doing this to me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“It absolutely is not obvious!”

“Seriously?”

You cross your arms, raising an annoyed eyebrow at the man. “Listen, I don’t know what kind of people you’re hanging out with, but my friends don’t go around offering to–”

“Because I like you.”

You could practically facepalm. As he stares at you, not even blinking anymore, you reach for the salt shaker on the table to pour some onto your hand. When he opens his mouth to ask what you’re doing, you flick the miniscule white crystals in his direction.

“Wha–”

“Yoongi, I can’t believe you wasted a whole evening for that lame ass joke.”

“Did you really just…” He throws his head back, laughing in both disbelief and amusement. “Wow. You tell a girl you like her and she throws salt at you. That’s definitely a first for me.”

“It’s not funny. Stop saying that.”

“Stop saying what?”

“Stop saying you like me!”

“But I do like you,” he says, voice softer now. “I’ve always liked you.”

You mentally groan, sucking your teeth before you reach for the salt again. He grabs your wrist before you could hold it up.

“Quit it and listen to me. I’m serious.”

When you look at Yoongi, he’s wearing an expression you don’t think you’ve often seen, or ever seen before. There’s no trace of that familiar teasing smile that’s almost always on his lips, nor the mischievous glint in his eyes that he usually sports. This side of Yoongi is new to you. This side of Yoongi makes you hold your breath for some reason.

For a second there, you believe what he’s saying.

“Come on. You’re taking this too far.”

“Why do you keep thinking this is a joke? You know I would never do that, Y/N.”

You pull your hand back to pinch the bridge of your nose. “Because you keep using me to mess with Jungkook even though I’ve asked you multiple times to–”

“Can you not mention his name?” Yoongi straightens in his chair. This is the closest he’s ever come to being annoyed with you. “I’m trying to tell you how I feel and you’re thinking about Jungkook.”

You liked it better when he was cocky about it.

“You can’t possibly be serious right now.”

Yoongi purses his lips, his eyes telling you that he’s irritated with you too, only he’s much better at containing his frustration. You both stare at each other for god knows how long because neither one of you understands what the other is trying to say.

When Yoongi speaks next, his voice is so calm, so low that it makes your spine run cold.

“You were always so oblivious.”

“Oh my god, pick up, pick up, pick up,” you mutter to yourself like a deranged person on the sidewalk, telepathically urging Taehyung to answer the phone before you’ve even called him. His phone filters through your speaker after the third ring. Kim Taehyung, always so quick to answer your calls.

“What’s u–”

“Oh my god, Kim Taehyung, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, you will not believe what just happened,” you rush out in one breath. “Where are you? Are you at home? I’ll come to you. Oh my god!”

“Jesus, did you mix coffee with Red Bull again? Slow down,” Taehyung says. “I’m at Jimin’s now.”

“Oh? Okay.” This is even better. Jimin’s apartment is much closer to the restaurant than Taehyung’s place is. “Is it boys’ night? Nevermind. Doesn’t matter. I’ll come over right now. Be there in 15!”

“What? Wait, Y/N, no, Ju–!”

You hang up before he can say anything else. You bounce on your heels as you flag down a cab, so awfully restless and you just want to tell someone. On the ride over, the driver keeps glancing at you through the rearview mirror every few seconds; your nervous energy must have infected him because you look like you just found out that someone is freaking dying. When you arrive at your destination, you take a deep breath before you hurry up the stairs. Jimin’s building is old and has no elevator, which normally sucks because he lives on the fifth floor and you absolutely despise stairs. But right now, you have so much adrenaline coursing through your veins that five flights feel like a piece of cake.

You have no doubt that the men inside know it’s you from the way you ring his doorbell repeatedly. Jimin opens the door with an exasperated look, to which you pay no mind and just press a quick kiss against his cheek in greeting before you barge into his home in search of Taehyung.

“Kim Taehyung! Where are you? This is an emergency, I need y–!”

When you do find him, however, he isn’t alone. Sitting next to Taehyung on the couch and holding a bottle of beer to his lips, is none other than Jungkook. You all look at each other awkwardly as the words die on your tongue, killing some of the nerves while you bite your lip to keep your mouth shut. Jimin waddles into the living room after he shuts down the door and plops down next to Jungkook. Now there are three pairs of eyes on you.

“Oh, uhm, hi,” you say to Jungkook. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Hi,” he says, and offers you a beer on the table. “Want one?”

What you said to Yoongi at dinner wasn’t exactly untrue. You and Jungkook are kind of in a better place now. In the last few days, since you had your little chat in his car, he’s let up on the crap that he was pulling before. Something still feels off to you though. Feels like his head isn’t really in it, that he’s still doing this for the sake of trying to ease his guilt by going along with what he thinks makes you happy. Whatever. It’s at least a little progress, you suppose.

“No, that’s fine.” You wave Jungkook off before inching closer to Taehyung and pulling him up by the arm. “Uhm, I just needed to talk to Tae and I’ll be on my way!”

You drag your friend into the guest bedroom that Jimin has recently turned into an office, all the while ignoring his shout of “This better be good! Don’t forget to tell me later!” as you shut the door.

You glare at Taehyung. “Okay, why didn’t you tell me that Jungkook was here?”

“I tried to!” He raises his hands in surrender. “You hung up on me. I texted you about it.”

You rummage through your bag for the phone that you so hastily shoved in there before getting into the taxi. The notification on your screen glares back at you.

[21:42] Taebear 🐻: jungkook is here btw. dunno if you’re cool with that

“Right…” you mutter. “My bad.”

“Well?” Taehyung prompts, then his face turns worried as he gives you a once-over. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

You inhale deeply, holding onto his wrists and staring him dead in the eye. Even with the door closed and with Jungkook and Jimin all the way in the living room, you keep your voice low. “I think I just got propositioned.”

Your friend blinks slowly, or rather, he closes his eyes for five whole seconds before he opens them. Taehyung visibly relaxes when he comprehends that you are, in fact, okay and healthy, and that you’re just being overly dramatic.

He pushes your hands away. “Fuck off. I thought something bad happened.”

“Something bad did happen!”

“You are literally the worst person.”

“I’m serious!”

He groans and looks at you like a disappointed parent. “Fine,” he relents, “what happened?”

“I think Yoongi sort of pimped himself out to me today.”

Taehyung opens his mouth, closes it, and does it again a few times. “You can’t just say that and not elaborate.”

“He said he likes me.”

There comes that slow-ass, neverending blink again. Taehyung looks like the meme, like he’s seeing the world in nothing but equations.

“I fail to see how that would be considered pimping oneself out.”

“Well, you have to hear what he said after–”

A mop of fluffy blond hair materializes out of thin air, startling you both. You didn’t even hear him come in. That sneaky little thing. “What are we talking about?” Jimin asks, lowering his volume to match yours. “Why are we whispering?”

“Why are you here?” You look behind him at the door that he left ajar. “Where’s Jungkook?”

“He’s in the living room.”

“By himself?”

“Well, there’s no one else here, so duh.”

You exhale exasperatedly. “Now it’s gonna look like we’re talking about him.”

“Aren’t we?”

“We’re talking about Yoongi,” Taehyung says, casting his eyes to the ground briefly.

“Yoongi?” Jimin asks, glancing between you and Taehyung with a slight frown. “Your Yoongi?”

You raise an eyebrow in question. “What do you mean my Yoongi? There’s only one Yoongi. He’s the Yoongi.”

“Okay. So what’s up with the Yoongi?”

Taehyung turns to his wonder twin with an unamused look. “She’s doing that annoying thing where she gives you a single detail of the story and you have to ask her to keep going every time.”

Blondie makes a face. “Oof, yeah, that’s annoying. Don’t do that.”

You gape at the two of them. “I’m giving you tea and you’re complaining about my storytelling skills?”

You should’ve expected it, should’ve known what was coming the second that question left your mouth. The guys don’t even need to look at each other to be in sync when they echo, “Yes.”

“But seriously,” Jimin says, “what about Yoongi?”

“We went to dinner tonight and he… said he likes me…” you tell him, and physically recoil at the memory. Oh… the horror. “And he said, oh my god I can’t even repeat it without wanting to jump off a bridge, he said to let him be my revenge dick.”

Jimin gasps. Taehyung chokes on his own spit. They both sputter out, “What the fuck?”

“Right?!” you cry, still so fucking mortified by the experience. “I almost died just sitting there. I can’t believe he made me listen to that with my own two ears.”

Taehyung is the first one to turn serious. “What happened after that though?” You don’t know what you would do sometimes if there wasn’t a Kim Taehyung to ground you.

“Well, I came here.”

“So…” he drags out the single word, “you ran away from him?”

Jimin looks at you expectantly too, wearing the same question in his eyes. You frown at them. “What? No. I threw salt on him and told him to stop fucking around and then I lef– Oh my god, I did run away.”

Shit.

“Hold up, what the fuck,” Jimin cackles, like this is all just so funny. “You threw salt on him?”

You let out a nervous laugh, and point finger guns at your friends idiotically. “But it’s fine. Because obviously he didn’t mean it.”

“Why would you think he didn’t mean it?” Taehyung asks.

“He’s an annoying little shit sometimes! And,” you keep your volume under control again, “he hates Jungkook. He’s only doing it to piss him off.”

Taehyung purses his lips, regards you with a look you don’t like because you’re trying to sort through this logically, convince yourself that it isn’t real and that Yoongi is just missing April Fool’s day by four whole months. Why is your friend making this more difficult?

“Is it so hard to believe that someone can like you?”

“Yes,” you say seriously, “when that person is Yoongi.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s Yoongi!” You throw your hands up. “He’s not like us.”

“I hate to break it to you, but celebrities aren’t above having crushes.”

You look at Jimin for help, but he just shrugs, choosing silence as the neutral option or maybe staying silent is just his way of agreeing with Taehyung. This isn’t the reaction you expected when you rushed here to give him the goss. Taehyung doesn’t blindly support your every decision or try to rationalize your every move just because he’s your friend. He tells you to your face when you’re being absurd, so you really don’t get why he’s the one being unreasonable right now.

“Oh my god, please,” you say. “Yoongi absolutely does not have a crush on me.”

Jimin chimes in. “Well, he did literally just admit that to you.”

You send him a glare that says, Oh, so now you’re talking?

You turn to Taehyung again. You can’t believe this is happening. Are you two really arguing? About whether or not Yoongi actually likes you? While Jungkook is sitting by himself in another room? You bet nobody has this on their bingo card.

“I told you. He’s just trying to fuck with Jungkook.”

“Why do you keep saying that? Why do you think he’s trying to fuck with Jungkook?” Taehyung challenges.

“Because he’s my friend!” you groan. It’s the most obvious thing in the world, but no one seems to believe that Yoongi is just your friend. “You’re my friend too. But you’re being so fucking annoying now.”

He narrows his eyes at you, as if to prove a point. “Yoongi is that good of a friend that he would go out of his way to mess with someone he hadn’t even met until a couple weeks ago?”

“I– well– maybe!” you stammer, blinking up at him. The height difference is clearly not doing you any good. “He’s a very petty person. And when he isn’t being a little shit, he can be a very good friend.”

Taehyung scoffs, seriously getting on your nerves. It isn’t even any of his business. You just wanted to tell him for the sake of sharing with your best friend, not ask for his opinion on any of it. He doesn’t even know Yoongi, never even met him.

“I know what people are like when they’re in love with you,” Taehyung mutters, eyeing the ground. Jimin makes a noise and nudges his friend in the rib, shaking his head while he does so.

You, petty little you, want to fire back. “Oh, so Yoongi is in love with me now?”

Taehyung opens his mouth, prepared to continue his assault on your sanity when Jimin has to step in, waving his hands in front of you both. “Alright, that’s enough,” he says. “Why don’t we just call it a night and let’s reconvene when everybody is thinking straight, yeah?”

Taehyung doesn’t even look at you. You try to release your frustrations through a loud exhale, but it doesn’t do much. When all of you venture out into the living room to leave, you remember that Jungkook is still here. He looks at yours and Taehyung’s disgruntled expressions, then at Jimin’s face as he not-so-subtly shakes his head, silently telling him to not ask any questions. Poor guy, this was boys’ night after all. You couldn’t have spent more than 30 minutes in Jimin’s office. He was just quietly drinking his beer and watching TV out here, unaware of everything going on in the room just down the hall. Now everybody seems pissed and the night is spoiled.

You bid Jungkook and Jimin a curt goodnight before you head for the door, saying nothing to Taehyung because he clearly doesn’t deserve any pleasantries after tonight. You end up going home with more questions than answers.

You hate this. You hate it so much.

Now that you’re finally starting to actually coexist with Jungkook – of all people! – the other men in your life have to come for your head?

You haven’t spoken to Taehyung since that night, which was only three days ago, but still. It’s the longest you’ve gone without talking to your best friend. You don’t know what was up his ass, and Jimin has just been telling you to not overthink it, that Taehyung will reach out when he’s calmed down. It makes zero sense to you, because how does your situation affect him in any way? What does he even have to calm down from?

With Yoongi, on the other hand… Well, you’re still convinced that he was just being good old insufferable Yoongi. This is how he has always been – teasing, easy going, and has a good rapport with you. That night was just a fluke. Maybe he had too much to drink and didn’t know when to stop the joke from getting too carried away.

You are not fighting with Yoongi. You are not fighting with Yoongi. You remind yourself of this, so that when you see him in the studio next, everything is okay.

Yoongi arrives some time after lunch and brings everybody coffee. You expect him to be lighthearted as always, which he is, and you expect him to sit next to you as always, which he does. He laughs with Seokjin, chats with Namjoon about the art scene, pokes “friendly” fun at Jungkook every now and then. You two work side by side, bouncing ideas off each other like you normally do. He doesn’t mention the dinner, which makes you feel a whole lot better about that night because see? Everything is fine. If everything is fine with Yoongi then everything is fine with Taehyung too.

Some time around 5pm, Yoongi asks if you should all go out for drinks tonight. He gets shot down by the guys though. Apparently no one is up for after-work drinks on a Tuesday night.

“You’re no fun,” Yoongi grumbles before turning to you with hopeful eyes. “Y/N?” he whines, “Indulge me like you usually do, please?”

“No, thanks,” you decline. You glance up in time to see Jungkook quietly chuckling to himself. “Today is my self-care day.”

“Tuesday is your self-care day?”

“Because tomorrow is Wednesday. I have a pre-Wednesday routine.”

“Did I ever tell you that you’re very weird about Wednesdays?” Seokjin asks.

You hum in thought for a moment before answering him. “You did. And then you told me a really bad dad joke.”

He makes an exasperated Ahh noise as he recalls the very moment, then blasts his booming windshield wiper laugh when he remembers the joke he made. “Hey, that joke was killer!”

“It absolutely was not! The only decent one that I’ve heard from you is–”

“No, no, hey,” Yoongi cuts in, “don’t entertain him and his stupid jokes. Come onnn, you know I hate drinking alone. Go for a drink with me, princess. You used to be my drinking buddy all the time.”

“Uh huh,” you scoff. “And look where drinking with you got me.”

“I allow fraternizing in the workplace as long as I’m still the priority, guys,” Seokjin chirps in.

“That’s not what I meant,” you say quickly. “No one is fraternizing with anybody!”

Yoongi hums quietly. He drops his volume, just for your ears. “No? Is that your answer then?”

“What?” you whisper. You don’t know why you’re whispering. You just do it because Yoongi is doing it.

“You kinda ran out on me the other night.”

“I didn’t–”

He gives you a look.

“Okay, maybe I did… but only because you were being ridiculous!”

Yoongi licks his lips and tips his head toward the door. He’s the first one to stand up and head out of the room, followed by you half a minute later. You appreciate him wanting some privacy for you two to talk, but you don’t like that this is a conversation that needs privacy. You were all just joking around in there. If this is still a joke, why is he leading you out here?

Walking out the door, you hear Seokjin call after you, “Fraternizing!”

“That is not what’s happening!”

You find Yoongi in the empty breakroom, leaning against a counter.

“You can drop it now, Yoongi,” you say.

“What?” he tilts his head, looking at you curiously. “You still think I’m messing around?”

“Obviously.”

“Why is that?” he asks. “What makes that so hard to believe?”

It’s what Taehyung asked you the other night too.

Because you’re you! is what you almost say. It’s the same answer you gave Taehyung, because, well, do you even need another explanation? You don’t tell him that though, thinking it might offend him somehow. Instead, you throw him a question.

“Okay. Sure. Let’s say that you are serious. What happened? When did you even start liking me? Why are you telling me now?”

Yoongi exhales gently, straightening up to walk closer to where you are. He stops when he’s right in front of you, looking right into your eyes and using the same voice he did that night. “I always liked you. I liked you last year when we first worked together and I like you now. The only difference is then, you weren’t trying to move on,” he says, so unwavering that it makes you stagger.

That… is not what you were expecting. You blink up as he smiles down at you fondly. You feel lightheaded. Maybe even scared, because what if he means it? He sounds too sincere for it to just be all fun and games. You remember the way he held your hand when he made you put on that stupid fancy lotion.

His voice keeps lowering, and you hate that it makes you nervous. Your stomach twists, your heart pounds against your ribs.

“If you’re moving on now, can’t you do it with me?”

Looking back now, were there signs that you should have noticed?

You stand there, processing, not knowing what you should say to him, not really even breathing anymore. Yoongi must interpret your silence as realization, recognition, because he chuckles, again amused by your reaction.

“Yoongi…”

He stops you, though you weren’t going to say anything else. You feel like you could cry. Maybe he sees it in your eyes. Yoongi pats your arm gently, still smiling. “I’ll let you sleep on it, princess.”

When he leaves the room, you keep standing there by yourself. So Taehyung was right? Your friend who has never had a single interaction with Yoongi, who has only heard about him from the stories you shared, could tell that there was something there? That Yoongi had feelings for you all along?

At the dinner, Yoongi said you were always oblivious.

Is it possible that you really had no idea, or did you just force yourself to look the other way?

That night, was he hurt? After you repeatedly dismissed him and eventually walked out?

Oh, Yoongi…

When someone enters the room after you’ve been standing here for what feels like forever, navigating the sea of your own thoughts, you startle to life.

“You okay?” Jungkook asks, eyeing you as he goes to fix himself a cup of coffee.

“Yep, mhmm,” you respond. You try to shove away all of your unraveling emotions. They could wait until later.

You have no idea why you’re still standing here, watching Jungkook make coffee with his back to you, but that’s arguably a better idea right now than to go back to the studio where Yoongi is.

“You know,” Jungkook starts, pressing the buttons on the fancy coffee machine that you don’t know how to use. “I don’t think it’s very professional. Y’know, Yoongi flirting with you all the time.”

You stare at his broad shoulders with your brows furrowed, already on edge even though you don’t know what he’s referring to.

“What?”

“I don’t think it’s professional,” he repeats. “Yoongi flirting with you all the time.”

“When has Yoongi ever flirted with me?” you ask. It’s meant to sound sarcastic and defensive, hoping he’ll take the hint to back off but really, now that you’ve said it, it’s a question that you yourself would genuinely like the answer to.

“Admit it,” Jungkook says, turning around to face you. “It’s not like he tries to be very subtle about it. All the nicknames, always complimenting you, even when he put his hands all over you the other day right in front of us! There’s no way that you’ve missed the way he looks at you sometimes.”

You blink a few times, not sure if you heard him right. You hope your brief silence gives him a chance to backtrack when he sees how offended you are, but he just stares at you. Jungkook really does have the worst timing, and it doesn’t take long for your anger to overflow. Moving forward together in peace lasted a whole week, huh?

“Even if Yoongi is flirting with me, how is it any of your business?”

“It kinda is my business, though, isn’t it? Considering he does it at my place of work.”

Oh, he’s gotta be kidding.

“Okay, it’s your place of work,” you hiss. The steam rising from his fresh mug of coffee might as well resemble the cartoon-like smoke churning from the top of your head. Jungkook seems taken aback by your reaction, but honestly, what the hell did he even expect when he said something like that to you? “So you fucking the receptionist must be so professional, right?”

Paling about a hundred shades, he looks like you just poured a bucket of ice cold water over his head. The gulping throat, the parting lips, the guilty eyes and his whole demeanor exuding shock and embarrassment, because Jungkook didn’t know that you knew, let alone foresee that you would throw it in his face. He stands there, dumbfoundedly muttering, “How– Who told you about that?”

You ignore his question. Why does it even matter who told you? If you were less angry, you would be more curious as to how he thought this was going to go. Why would he say something like that out of nowhere?

He said he deserved your rage? He wanted you to be mad? Fine. Be careful what you wish for.

You feel sick to your stomach and he would come to you and say shit like that. Like Jungkook can dictate anything about your life. Like he has the right to fuck things up and leave when he’s had his fun.

Your sinuses burn when you speak next. “You don’t see me running to you, whining about how Jihyo always looks at me like she wants to gouge my fucking eyes out. How she’s always so nice and bubbly to everyone but then when it’s me, she acts like I ran over her fucking dog.”

Yeah, he definitely wasn’t expecting this reaction.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

“No, just save it. You talk a big game about trying to do right by me and then you go and say shit like this. How many times do I have to tell you? I’m so fucking tired.”

People often say that you should never make decisions when you’re angry. No one wants to end up regretting something they said or did in the heat of the moment. You’ve always thought that this is good advice, and you always try to live by it because you know your temper can get the best of you sometimes.

The keyword here, though, is try.

You run a hand through your hair, feeling infuriated at this point because Jungkook keeps fucking explaining himself, even though he’s the one who started this whole thing. You can’t even properly hear what he’s saying, all of his words going into one ear and out the other. Something about it not meaning anything and ending it with her months ago.

You take a deep breath and look into his panicked eyes.

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite.”

You think he’s apologizing again, from the way his lips form the words I’m sorry, but your pulse is ringing so loud in your ears that you don’t really catch the sounds. The anger inside of you still simmers despite having spilled over. Your face is so eerily calm that you hope it scares him. When you turn on your heels to leave, you know he’s following you back to the studio. You sit back down beside Yoongi but you don’t meet his eyes. You keep your gaze trained on the open notebook, nursing that anger.

You should’ve known that there’s no moving forward with Jungkook. If anything, he just wants to tie you to the past and never let you leave. Is he that immature, that selfish that even after all this time, after what he did, he can’t stand the idea of you and someone else?

You briefly make eye contact with Jungkook from across the room before you turn to Yoongi, your voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

“On second thought, that drink does sound nice,” you tell him with a smile. “Pick me up at 9?”

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yestrday · 9 months ago

Note

a little silly doodles of the academy's (literal) star student! i was thinking of what would their file have about them since i feel alot of the harem members especially those who are close to the staff members of the academy or helps around with that department of the school since im used to volunteering for stuff like that 😭 but anyway im pretty sure probably people like diluc(canonically has alot of connections), neuvillette(canon can go through files of fontaines citizens), scara(irminsul.....), zhongli (walking encyclopedia), Alhaitham(scribe), amd a few more but don't wanna squeeze my brain dry just to think! anyway these people has definitely have access to the school's files of students since they're needed for I.Ds and stuff!

the funny thing is... Asteria's origins is a little bit complicated... As I mention its not easy feat to enter the academy im guessing and they obviously had Alice's help and the reason for that is that they're... technically not a registered citizen in that world. They don't exactly have a birth certificate to prove they "exist"... They originated from a very low class home town and was literally in poverty. Their family wasn't exactly present so whenever the government would have free limited events of registering unregistered children when Asteria's was younger they didn't do it for Asteria which proved to be a problem. Later on in life Asteria surprisingly grew up wise and intelligent through threw away books of near by semi prestigious schools in their area which they picked up and learned from!! they had a passion for knowledge especially in the field of science and wished to be a famous astronomer! but of course being faced with the harsh reality they will probably never achieve that dream theyve accepted it but still enjoys learning ANYTHING new like they love learning and observing it's such... such a refreshing thing to see for passionate teachers that volunteers and teach in asteria's low class neighborhood it brings a tear in their eyes.

anyway let's say.. alice was one of these volunteers and noticed young Asteria's passion and was intrigued by this. A diamond in the rough! that's insane to Alice and so she took some years to observe Asteria by occasionally dropping by the grungy neighborhood and sees asteria sharing their learnings and be a bright kid whilst having that playful charm they had. So Alice decided to take it herself that she'll help Asteria study the proper education before establishing her grand plan offffffff.... enrolling Asteria to the academy that her daughter and niece is in LMAOO

And before all this. Asteria's real name isn't even Asteria Stellar... That was only a name that Alice created for them to describe their passion and their behavior, the stellar describing how out of this world their pursuit of knowledge was hence the stellar as their last name but their real name was Yvaine(meaning: north star) to represent as the light and guide for the kids in that neighborhood for helping the kids to learn atleast a bit and guided them through the shitty reality!!! asteria is a really nice kid back then huhu

anyway once asteria finally hits the age of entering the academy Alice got some connections to help her make a... semi legitimate birth certificate and some documents to make up some "normal" life that Asteria supposedly have so yeah baam thats when "Asteria Stellar" was created!

so basically what I'm saying if any of these harem maniacs even TRIES to check their history or origins they'll... probably have a major difficult time because it's so obscure thanks to Alice making sure that no one will figure out this because if this gets out then not only Asteria will get in alot of trouble so will Alice so ermmm... but yeah! other than this if they just get the courage and ask Asteria themselves to talk more about themselves then Asteria will gladly tell their tale! it's pretty easy to get information of them actually if you just approach them 😓 it's because of this stupid reputation and aura they exude makes them looks approachable and it doesn't help the fact they have long ass hair that makes them look those intimidating characters that's good in everything huhuuu doesn't matter tho

also them being filo is a bit important since they have a tiny bit of an accent when speaking in English if its not in an academic setting! They also their culture alot but not alot of people knows this because they all assume that Asteria isn't Filipino but another ethnicity because of the accent?? 😭 which makes asteria confuzzled (from experience)

FILO MENTIONED 📢📢📢 BAYANG MAGILIW PERLAS NG SILANGAN 📢📢 AKO AY PILIPINO BUONG KATAPATAN NANUNUMPA OR SMTH 📢📢📢📢

the filo accent has me awwing but then i remembered the filo accent is probably cute to foreigners but i just keel over laughing bc its just really funny (i have filo accent too)

also.... i think your babygirl n alice mightbe committed one or two crimes there...

her background is so sweet as well :')) i can imagine asteria teaching the other kids as well awhhh but this shit could be good now we can eliminate the possibilities of a yandere snooping around her background doing archon knows what

#starzgaze #yester.au — academy 📓#yester.fanart

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norrisreads · 1 year ago

Text

delicate - yt #22

PAIRING: yuki tsunoda x reader!

SUMMARY: inspired by delicate - Taylor Swift

WARNINGS: fluff, hinge of angst! cheater! ex !!!!!! insecure reader!

FC: karina from aespa

masterlist

“ hi! you mentioned drawing inspiration for your fic from songs. can you write Yuki fic based on Delicate by Taylor Swift where they are both into each other but the reader is so afraid to mess up because of her problematic past? maybe a little angsty to spice it up? thank you xx”

love love the idea of this, hope you’re happy with my take on it <3 yuki needs more love and fics 😭🙏🏻

Being friends with the scuderia alphatauri driver, yuki tsunoda has it’s pros and cons. Having met on a cooking class and being closer to each other after one dinner ‘date’ made you realise the both of you have tons of similarities. you’ve never realised yuki was a driver racing for the formula one, not until you’ve realised you were stopped in the streets by fans asking for a picture with him.

pros are you’re well contented with his presence, not having a single dull moment whenever you’re around him

and cons are being scared to confessing your feelings to the said driver, with a fear of rejection and letting him in your life permanently.

It's okay to consider confessing; what scares you is your fear of being rejected. Rejection and you are not compatible, and neither is maintaining people in your life on a long-term basis.

A terrible memory has to be the day your friends and ex-boyfriend publically humiliated you. It seems like everyone, including their mothers, knew about his affair with your ex-best friend, which made the entire year unbearably monotonous and depressing.

It's safe to assume that you never truly had someone there for you during your difficult times because you were never great with people—that is, until you met Yuki.

Despite his hectic schedule, he was there for you when you were hired for your dream company and even celebrate your 22nd birthday. You've come to realize that you were no match for him because he was there for you through everything.

You were simply a typical lady...a regular person who works for a company and relies upon that job for her income—someone he had met while taking cookery classes during his downtime. You weren't a well-known figure in the industry or an influencer. Perhaps this explains why, unseen to you, Yuki Tsunoda has a major crush on you.

“hey what has gotten you thinking so hard, that you’re not listening to me?” yuki snaps his fingers trying to get your attention which made you realised you’ve been daydreaming

smiling at yuki, “nothing just thinking on what we should get for dinner later”

he took a seat beside you, “i was thinking of this ramen store that i used to go when i was a kid, i wanna bring you there. I’m sure you’ll love the ramen”

yuki pleaded you for a 2 weeks off from your work to attend the Japanese Grand Prix, and you agreed as he was super persistent on making sure you’re on board with the plan.

other than that, yuki planned a whole guided trip (of course him being the tour guide) for you. Showing you places that had meant a-lot to him, bring you to the harry potter house (you’re a huge fan of it, and yuki could tell as you had a raven-claw phone case on when he first met you) and of course bringing you to meet his friends.

“i’m almost done with everything, just give me 30 minutes and i’ll be back. you can walk around with Michael if you’re scared, or i can call over josh to accompany you?”

you had met michael and josh countless times, whenever you’re over at yuki’s house they’ll never fail to be there too. The four of you had surprisingly gotten closer, but with the recent shifting of josh to Ferrari, the outings weren’t rlly quite often anymore.

“yeah i’ll visit josh, i’ve just seen him outside a few minutes ago. Text me when you’re done yuki”

walking around the paddock with josh made you realised that he was a great listener, he listened to you rambling on and on about your life and your feelings towards Yuki.

“give it a try, y/n” josh stopped walking and faced you, shrugging his shoulders

“i’m scared, what if he leaves like the others josh? he’s not someone i would want to let go off”

then you heard laughters, looking at josh in confusion

“him? leaving you? yeah that’s never happening. Have you seen the way he look at you?”

shaking your head , “i shouldn’t be telling you this, if Yuki hears this from me, i’m dead y/n but the way he looks at you? it’s unbelievable but that gaze was a look of a man in love”

with you..?

“don’t joke around josh, it’s not funny!”

but with the seriousness of josh look, it was never a joke

“well it’s up to you to believe me y/n, come on let’s go! Michael just texted me yuki is done for the day”

“why did you not let me know we’re going to a restaurant? i’m too dressed down for this yuki” walking side by side with yuki towards the restaurant

“it’s a family business, i doubt they’ll care of our dress-codes further more you’ll still look beautiful even with a trash bag on”

arriving at the restaurant, the both of you were guided to a table, and a few minutes later, yuki’s uncle greeted the both of you.

“it’s such an honour meeting yuki’s girlfriend, we heard sooo much about you from yuki! we were super excited that you’ve decided to visit japan!”

yuki’s girlfriend…?

“oh no i’m just a friend! it’s an honour in meeting you too, i can’t wait to try the food here!” smiling sweetly to yuki’s uncle and what you’ve missed was the red flush cheeks on yuki’s face.

in the midst of eating and talking, yuki took out a small bag and handed it to you

confused, accepting the bag and you took a look, you were surprised.

it was a locket necklace with a picture of the both of you that he had taken after the first dinner ‘date’ with a date engraved on the other side of the locket.

“y/n, i’ve been thinking and i’ve realised that with you in my life, i’ve looked forward to it everyday. You made me realise that life was worth living and i can’t imagine a life without you. I must say my anger management has been really well after i’ve met you”

the both of you laughed, but yuki was looking forward to your answer

apparently, after the talk that you had with josh. He had raise his concerns about you to yuki, and yuki’s goal for tonight is for you to feel loved.

“i know you’re having thoughts if i will ever leave you, but I promise you i won’t. I’ll stay by your side till we’re old, I’ll celebrate every milestone with you, i’ll never get sick of you y/n. There’s no one else that i would want to live my life with, it does not matter that you’re just a typical girl because what matters at the end of the day is you’re the only one i’ve had my eyes on, so would you be the honour of being my girlfriend?”

and by the end of his sentence, you were tearing up.

“you’re driving me crazy yuki tsunoda”

Yuki holds while stroking your hands, saying, " that’s what i do best, love”

y/n__01 just shared a photo

liked by yukitsunoda0511 krusectrl michaelitaliano and 20 more

tagged: yukitsunoda0511

y/n__01 handsome, you’re mansion with a view

krusectrl thanks to me

y/n__01 thankyou josh 🙏🏻🥹

pierregasly welcome to the club yukitsunoda0511

yukitsunoda0511 will always love you 💙

y/n__01 🥹💙

yukitsunoda0511 just shared a photo

liked by pierregasly danielricciardo y/n__01 and 302,749 others

tagged: y/n__01

yukitsunoda0511 you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts ❤️😇

gaslied22 WHAT? YUKI HAS A GF?

yukifans it was just confirmed today! I’m so happy for them!

tsunodays stop im actually sobbing, they’re so adorable

gaslied22 STOP! the taylor swift song references !!!!!!!

danielricciardo so this is the reason you’re smiling every day

yukitsunoda0511 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️

y/n__01 are you quoting a taylor swift song rn tsunoda

yukitsunoda0511 well of course…

another yuki oneshot added to the list, i hope this was a great read! added in a lil ig post of their reveal 🤭🙏🏻

#norreadsreq #submission #f1 x reader #f1 fics #f1 x y/n #f1 smau #yuki tsunoda x f1 #yuki tsunoda #yuki tsunoda smau #yuki tsunoda fluff #yuki tsunoda x reader #yuki tsunoda x y/n

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snowdrrops · 2 years ago

Text

DROWNING (literally) IN YOUR LOVE

feat. ! soukoku/double black includes ! major character death, angst, hurt no comfort

It’s almost complete. This time, Dazai knew he had won.

As both Chuuya’s and Fyodor’s abilities would be helpless to them in this situation, there’s no way they would come out alive.

He would kill them and bring the innocence of the Armed Detective Agency to light.

His gaze shifts from Fyodor’s furious expression to Chuuya, who was struggling to keep breathing as long as he possibly could.

Dazai’s expression was blank as he said into the microphone, “Chuuya, this is farewell to you too.”

The water had risen to Chuuya’s neck by now, and within a minute he’d be under, never to emerge again.

Dazai knew this was his only opportunity to end Fyodor, he was finally a step ahead. Backing down during such a crucial moment would be unwise and dangerous, there was no knowing what Fyodor would do as revenge.

The fact that he’d taken backing out into consideration shocked him, if he was honest with himself. He had been planning this for quite some time, and with a fair amount of effort put into this.

Chuuya was a mere sacrifice in his grand scheme. People die all the time in these types of scenarios, but it was for the better of the world. In a year’s time, he would be glad with the decision he made today.

Dazai had finally won in this game of chess, so why did he feel like he had suffered a terrible loss?

“Seven years since we met, and we’ve done nothing but quarrel with each other,” he said, a clear memory of him snatching Chuuya’s hat popping up in his mind, “But…”

Dazai glanced up, finding himself unable to look at the face of his drowning ex-partner.

Tomorrow, Chuuya will cease to exist in this world. It would make no difference even if Dazai had spoken what lingered on his mind.

“Now that I think about it, there were some moments when our hearts reached out to each other,” Dazai said, the facade that he’s been putting on cracks just the tiniest bit, as it always does whenever Chuuya is near. He’s just that annoying.

In some way, he’s always felt that he could loosen up around Chuuya. Despite trying to aggravate each other all the time, they did form an unspeakable bond over time. Dazai knew things about Chuuya that some members of Port Mafia wouldn’t dare dream of, and Chuuya with Dazai as well.

Unlike Fyodor or any of his previous opponents who’ve managed to gain an understanding of his motives, Chuuya doesn’t try to use it against him. He knows what and what not to mention, a trait that Dazai appreciated many a time.

Chuuya is too busy trying to breathe to notice that Dazai’s tone has changed. The water level was hovering just below his mouth.

“Working with you is the second best thing that’s happened to me,” Dazai continued, “The first is… well, you already know.”

Chuuya makes eye contact with the surveillance camera, as if he wanted to say something. Another one of his sarcastic remarks, probably.

But Dazai never got to hear what those words were, as the water swallowed Chuuya’s whole being.

Dazai turned around to face Sigma, whose expression transformed to one of shock upon taking a look at him.

“Hey, you’re crying.”

Dazai lets out a humourless laugh. “You’re lying.”

“Did that man mean a lot to you?”

Dazai felt a tiny splash of a tear on his skin and rubbed at his eyes, taken aback when he found that he was indeed crying. But why? He had outsmarted Fyodor, the detective agency could walk free and he’d be out of this prison. Everything was going perfectly, according to plan. The only unanticipated part of this was his tears.

Who was he crying for?

Sigma shifted on his feet. “I can tell that you care for him the way I care for my casino.”

Dazai wanted to sink into a hole and never come back up. “Doesn’t matter, he’s dead.”

“Does he really not matter to you?”

He does. “Yes, he doesn't. Let's get going now.”

A certain sense of emptiness lingered in Dazai’s mind from that day on, for he knew that he had killed the one he held dear to his heart.

a year later

“A hideous-looking hat reminded me of you today,” Dazai said to the gravestone, “Too many ribbons. Definitely something you’d buy.”

“Don't you feel any remorse for annoying me, even in death? Seriously, that's incredible.”

“At least now you won't snap back at me with your retorts. How relaxing it is now that I don't have to hear the complaints of an annoying shorty.”

“Atsushi-kun was suggesting that I place some flowers here, since I come by so often. I told him I didn't want to. Flowers are expensive.”

“I heard the Port Mafia isn't doing well these days… How irresponsible of you, Chuuya. To abruptly leave your duties as an executive behind.”

“Y'know, the agency adopted a stray dog the other day. But the moment I entered the office, they decided to give it up to the adoption centre! I still can't figure out why. They were all looking at me weird.”

“Kunikida suggested a picnic the other day, since winter is around the corner and we can't have one when it does arrive. I'm not going, I've got matters to attend to.”

“...”

“I forget you're gone sometimes,” Dazai said, “I don't know why, but I'm always expecting some sort of response from you.”

A bird flew over his head, chirping as it went along.

“By the way, remember what I said to you before you died? About ’the second best thing for me was working with you’?”

“I'd like to think that you died knowing that the best thing that happened to me was meeting you. Getting to know you, arguing with you, having dinner at our usual place while debating over who'd settle the bill.”

“I don’t really know how to just leave, now that I’ve said that. The agency is having a little get-together dinner. Kunikida might forbid me from the food if I arrive late.”

“Bye then, Chuuya.”

･ . . ✦

directory

#dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #bungo stray dogs #soukoku #double black #angst angst angst #angst no comfort

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alphamales-rp · 6 months ago

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Blake relished every moan and cry the other let out. Every word Jasper said was perfect and went straight to his cock and it wasn't any wonder he had worked himself up to jackhammering into the other until he came with a loud growl, shooting thick, continuous spurts of his hot load inside the slutty acting student. It just so happened that the final winning goal of the game was scored at the same time, not to mention, several of the brothers who'd been enjoying the scene between the two also reached their finish. There were exponential levels of testosterone in the room now, the smell and aura of men was thick and heavy as they cheered and talked and Blake slowly pulled out of the beautiful blonde, smirking as he watched some of his excess load drip from the other's hole. He got to his feet but pointed at the other, looking him dead in the eye, "Stay," was all he said before turning to chat and cheer with some of the guys about the game, adjusting his cap a little and fist bumping a few guys, acting super casual as though he hadn't just fucked Jasper's brains out in front of the majority of the fraternity or like the other wasn't laying their with his come dripping out of him still.

Blake slowly adjusted himself, tucking his manhood back in his pants and fixing his shirt, again as though it were nothing and after a few minutes he said his goodbyes to the others and without warning to Jasper he leaned down and scooped the other into his arms and began walking out with him. "We're gonna spend the rest of the night in my place- don't think the guys are gonna be able to control themselves around you much longer," he said proudly as he easily carried the other up two flights of grand stairways until they reached the top floor, walking down a short hallway and reached a set of double doors which he kicked open to reveal the king's chambers. If the rest of the house had looked wealthy to Jasper, he'd have his mind blown by the suite they entered. It was modern and luxurious and featured things people only dreamed of being able to afford. He set Jasper down then closed the doors. The rest of the boys all knew too well where their king was and that he'd be more than busy for the rest of the evening.

"Welcome home, baby," he said, pulling off his clothes and tossing them, leaving them both completely naked. Blake couldn't help but flex and flaunt his incredible muscular frame for the other when he looked and he grinned arrogantly as he walked over to his massive bed, sitting at the foot of it and spreading his legs wide, "Get over here and on your knees - I want you to clean me off with your mouth and get me hard again - plus, we got some details to iron out now that you passed the first test," he explained. When the other had followed instruction, he popped the cap off the bottle and his free hand rested on the back of Jasper's head comfortably and he moaned approvingly as he felt the other's mouth on him again, his cock a little more sensitive now but clearly already throbbing back to hardness. "Like I mentioned earlier- you're gonna stay in here with me while you're here at the frat," he started, speaking lowly and almost intimately with the other now that there wasn't any loud music or conversations to compete with, "You sleep in my bed and you wake up in my bed," he simplified, "When you're under this roof, the boys and I can use you how we want, when we want," he repeated his sentiments from earlier, "I - obviously - get highest priority, then the A-team athletes, then the seniors .... then so on and so on, you get the picture," he softly stroked through Jasper's hair, leaning back and enjoying the other's mouth for a few moments before continuing, "Only rule is nobody but me gets to touch you when you're in my room. Unless they have my permission - duh - but, that means, if you need a break, or you need to clean up or whatever, you just come in here and nobody bothers you and if they do, I'll find out and I kick their asses out the house and blacklist their family and void any alumni related to them from the records," he said with a shrug.

"We want you here everyday," he hummed, lightly fucking the other's mouth now, "So, tomorrow after I get a nice good morning fuck outta you, you can go get your stuff and move in here," he planned, "You'll get all the amenities any other brother here does - so, free transport, full access to the kitchen, chefs, gym, all that shit, I'll get one of those bitches at the campus office to email you your welcome package with all the info when I re-register you as one of ours," he grinned, "Oh, and- If any projects or professors or whatever get in the way of you performing your duties ... just let me know ..." he paused his hips and waited for the other to look at him and he winked devilishly, "I can take care of anything," he said smugly before returning to using the other's mouth like a toy, "I can already tell you're gonna be the perfect slut for me and my boys," he complimented dirtily, "Any questions? Or are you ready to get up here and ride the stud? Because fuck knows I'm ready to put another load in you."

It was difficult to focus enough to even properly perceive anything other than the massive cock pistoning deep inside him and out again, slamming into the tightness of his cunt over and over, heavy balls smacking against his round cheeks with each hard thrust. But Jasper was too much of a slut, and honestly a bit too cocky about his skills as such, not to soak up the horny curiosity of the frat guys around them, inquiring how it felt to fuck him, without a doubt looking forward to their own turn of dumping a load inside their new house bunny. But what really made the smirk on his lips widen through all the ecstatic bliss of lust, was Blake's responses to the other guys. Through all the machismo and demeaning talk, Jasper felt oddly seen by the frat president, the alpha stud clearly seeing that the blonde was more than just an average bitch looking to get their hole wrecked one night and then be satisfied with being discarded for the next model. Indeed he had every intention to keep himself in perfect shape, keep that hole tight and fuckable so that none of these stallions would even think about unloading their testosterone somewhere else. "Fuck yeah...", he groaned, lust-veiled blue eyes looking directly into Blake's as the other held his face. "This cunt will stay nice and tight for yall... The hole of your dreams", he promised, his voice breaking towards the end as his statement turned into another heated moan.

Jasper's vanity made him doubt if he agreed with the other on being too dumb to be anything but a warm hole to get fucked - but there was no denying that he was at least a bimbo by choice. His reputation spoke for itself; classes were mostly a necessary evil and studying truly wasn't what he was attending school for. Acting was indeed a passion of Jasper's, and he enjoyed putting on a show and being the center of attention, but having his brains fucked up and being filled balls-deep by a hunk with a massive dick? There was no denying that he considered that his true calling, his biggest talent, and happily would've agreed to spend his days doing nothing else. He wasn't sure what his professors would have to say about that, but maybe the fraternity could actually make it a reality.

Of course he wasn't aware just how desperate the organization had been for a slut like him, that the lack of a proper cumdump and a way to find release had nearly led to the frat's collapse - but he honestly couldn't have cared less either. None of that mattered anymore, none of these wannabe whores would be remembered much longer at all, not after fucking him made them all pale in comparison. "Fuuuck... You do! It's your fucking hole", Jasper groaned, clenching his pink pucker around Blake's fat length when the other announced he was close, almost as to try and milk every last drop from the alpha cock. "Fuck, I need that alpha load so fucking bad, please breed me, stud... I want that seed filling me up! I'm your fucking cumdump... You own this hole!", he growled passionately.

#scnsuality

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the-wild-candy · 3 years ago

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Pac - Your future love story through a dream

𓄼ꕤ༘ Pick-a-card reading 𓄼ꕤ༘

➳ In this reading, I will be looking at your love story but will rather explain it as to how it might happen in a dream. The dream will be described in scenes (scene 1, scene 2 and scene 3) wherein I'll channel the major adorable moments which might take place between you and your person.

➳ How to pick a pile : imagine that these are the cards laying out in front of you. You flip each card and the one which has your picture beneath it, has your message.

➳ Please note that none of my readings are gender specific. I have mentioned energies and not genders.

➳ This is for entertainment purposes only. Take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

➳ Credit to pinterest for these pictures.

৫Pile 1

➪ Scene 1 - TW : nsfw messages, cuss words

Vision : a couple dancing very passionately, possibly latin or salsa. It looks like a theater/cinema/stage. The masculine is twirling the feminine around. The huge black curtains in the background fall. It looks like the masculine energy is showing something grand to their partner. The feminine here, looks very surprised, almost as if they are in awe. They turn to look back at masculine, and gives them a very sweet smile. It'll almost make the other person blush a little. In return the masculine person gives the feminine a very shy smile. I am also hearing "I'll never forget the way you look tonight".

Your partner really wants to make you happy. They are gonna adore you so much. They'll be proud to have you by their side. I am also sensing adoration and gentleness flowing in waves through this person. They are just so happy to be there with you, to spend time with you. I heard someone whisper "I love you". This person would be ready to give it their all. Oh my god I also heard "I am making moves like I'm in a movie" lmfao please, so they got a sense of humor. This person is a no bullshit person for sure. They barely give a fuck about people except the ones they actually care about. They can easily access people. But if they are interested, they put efforts and that is what will happen with you too!

I also feel like this person is all up for the spice. Y'all gonna get down and dirty for sure. You'll love how intense their stare is gonna be. Remember the dancing part? It was hot ngl. I am seeing hands on the hips, and grinding on each other too. They are gonna love your chest/breasts. They might be the type to get horny while looking at you dancing at some party and then looking for a place to have sex. They can be an exhibitionist. I am also hearing "country flavor". Oh well. They can have a really good voice too. Also rich. Also getting a good physique. Man, they got it all.

You or your person could be going through a change or some sort of a transformation when this happens. There will be a lot of eyes on your person. Since I am channeling messages as to what will happen during this particular moment, this could also mean that this will be the first time they said "I love you" to you in front of people. Or the people saw a glimpse of what you two are like together. I am sensing that this will happen late at night. Someone will be making plans to move out or they'll be leaving the place they are currently staying in. There is some nervousness/anxiety around this particular area tho. You'll both create a perfect balance. There will be a lot of unity and attraction between the two of you. I honestly love this union sm.

Things which might resonate - kisses on the knuckles/hand, eye contact, red and black colors, fancy, longing passionate stares, soft smiles. I am also seeing brown curly hair and a very charming smile.

➪ Scene 2

Vision : a couple is cuddling on the beach. It looks like a small picnic, probably some local area. They are both clicking goofy pictures. Kicking the sand and walking along the beach while holding hands. Hot blazing sun. Looking at the waves while breeze brushes the feminine's hair. Chasing each other around the beach and then getting piggy back rides.

This moment is more sweet and shy than the last one. I heard "hoping someday you'll be mine" and "holding on to this moment instead". You both see each other as equals. The major emphasis here is on being side by side, walking side by side. Your person would think of you as someone who is very precious. Simple soft touches, they are gonna create so much emotional bonding between the two of you. It's like a hug after a long tiring day. It's a simple gesture but it creates a huge impact on the other person. The feminine energy here is gonna be bubbling with joy, it'll just be that evident on their face. You'll both be each other's escape when you need to be. In this particular moment, there is courage and strength in your togetherness.

The energy is cheerful and very open. While you're at it, I think you guys decided to visit the beach just for a break. You could even be celebrating something! I feel like you'll have many nicknames for each other. I heard "I don't wanna leave yet". One or both of you could have physical touch as their love language because in scene two, the major emphasis was on touch itself. Whenever this happens, I think this will be the time when you'll be willing to move forward with this relationship. This will be decided mutually, of course. From this moment, things might turn a bit more intimate + stronger feelings than before. Things will get serious and this is something you won't see coming because it will be very unexpected.

Things which might resonate - blonde hair, blue sheets, goggles, camera, a dimple, strawberries, stars and dreams, stealing glances, the color white, the letter 'H', piggy back rides, laughing loudly.

➪ Scene 3

Vision : the masculine is standing alone in a room, reading something like a journal. The feminine walks rushes in. The feelings are very intense and emotional. They both embrace each other tightly. It looks like this happened either after a fight or after a period of separation. Probably because of some misunderstanding. Teary eyes. A soft yet passionate kiss to the lips, and then they both walk out of the door.

I feel like both of you are very adventurous. And if that's not the case then you certainly do feel so when you are with each other. This scene felt emotional and tense. I heard "talk to me. There is nothing which can't be fixed with some honesty". I also feel like the feminine was angry at something which left the masculine sad and disappointed. Their energy is more melancholic. Although I also feel like its gonna be sorted when the person with feminine energy understands what the deal really was because I do see them approaching the other person first and then clearing out whatever doubts they had. I think the masculine energy was almost gonna cry tbh. But your touch would comfort them. I heard "i know i can be complicated" (feminine energy).

I honestly feel that you'll both only grow after this happens between the two of you. I heard "we're right here". You are extremely important to your person. Yes, I was asked to put emphasis on this. I feel like this can happen due to communication issues. I feel like the masculine wasn't able to pick up the feminine's calls or couldn't devote them any time, which could be why they got mad at the first place. I heard "we only have one conversation a week". You both are each other's secure place, emotionally too. I am sensing that it'll all start falling into place again and that will bring you immense satisfaction. It will be a journey of joy after grief. Almost as if you've overcome another milestone together. I heard "do you want me?". You and your person both could feel very sad and heartbroken whenever this happens.

Things which might resonate : the color yellow, blinds, bright street lights, black/white, yin and yang, november, "I'll call you tomorrow", "my eyes were open¿", drums, beats, dreams, westside, noon-night, sparks and stars.

৫Pile 2

➪ Scene 1

Vision : the feminine energy is very bubbly here. I am seeing two people walking on the street, passing through a cafe. The feminine is literally pulling the masculine after them (in a very cute way). They reach a tourist place, and the person with feminine energy points towards a mountain, some place high up in there, sort of like showing the masculine that particular area and telling them more about it. Their energy is so cheery, I'm literally seeing them jumping up and down. The person with the masculine energy is gonna follow them around with a shake of head and a chuckle following through. The feminine here, is the type to make faces while drinking boba and the masculine just laughs along with them. I am also hearing "this is love".

You both could be opposites in some way. I am hearing violins playing, I feel like this union will be as romantic and cliche as a k-drama lol. "Living life" is being emphasized here. I am also hearing "there's nobody here except us". I am sensing that you could show each other your comfort places and just spend time together without bothering about who is there and who is not. You'll both feel extremely joyful and happy with each other. It's like a two melodies mingling together, creating a symphony. The moto here is to have fun and enjoy to its fullest. I am also hearing "I can't lose you".

You will be a very positive influence in your person's life. As lighthearted your energy is, your person's energy is rather heavy. Not in a negative way tho. Another thing I'm getting here is that you'll love to kiss each other. I heard "like warm hands and gloves". I feel like you'll both fit perfectly together in a frame. I am seeing seasons passing by, while there's you two sticking together. I heard "will you be here when I wake up?", the other person replies "I promise" and they go back to sleep. This is so adorable. I am also being shown a rose here.

Your person could be very good with their words and I don't just mean this romantically but also otherwise ykwim? They are good at arguing (not with you, in general). Talk about cliche, bad boy-goofy good girl shi. They own up to their words. They have a cut-clear sharp view of the world which might be very opposite to that of yours. You'll approach each other is a calm and compassionate way. The energy here is also very comforting. In this moment/scene, you will feel at peace in all ways, whether it is emotionally, mentally or even physically. You two make the other person feel comfortable and that is what really matters. You two could be friends before you get into a relationship. All those times you've spent wishing for your person, they'll feel like a reward to you when you actually meet them. I also feel like one of you faces a hard time while letting go of the past but the other partner will immensely help them in doing so.

Things that might resonate - chemical formulas, I saw their outfits too -the feminine wore a black overcoat with a red scarf and masculine wore a sweater with blue jeans, New York, walking away from toxicity, lovely weather.

➪ Scene 2

Vision : the feminine is standing in front of a huge jewelry store staring at some items through a glass window. While they're at it, the masculine energy holds their hands and takes them inside. They are ready to buy the feminine anything, literally. Sincerely because they want to do so. I am also seeing them randomly picking out flowers to give them to the feminine person, who is still in shock. And in that very moment, the masculine person gives their partner a forehead kiss. I am hearing "you are so much more than gorgeous".

I am also hearing "nightmares turned into dreams". Something this person possibly stayed away from, or was scared of, you made them get over it. They appreciate you so much. Probably more than you can imagine. They will be willing to listen to you all the time. I am hearing "am I crazy for waiting". There is so much desire here. You make each other feel special. I am hearing "I am just trying to get close to you". They would want to get you everything. They want to see you happy, and if gifts (according to them) can do so, they'll do it without wasting any time. Someone here is a foodie, this person is gonna buy you yummy food too aww lol. This could also mean that gift giving is one of their love languages.

I am sensing that your person could've faced some serious family issues, which is why seeing you being the way you are made them so happy. This person is very secure financially tho. They move very practically. They have accomplished a good ton of things in their life but with that, they also feel burdened because of the responsibilities which comes with it. I am hearing "moon and some fine wine". You are like a relaxing day after days of labour to them. Someone who almost feels like a dream, or a mirage. I also feel like they are gonna hype you up so much, literally all the time. I love this!

Things which might resonate - slow music, confidence, the color white-mixed with pink and red, skirts and dresses, lipsticks, attention, simp (cute).

➪ Scene 3

Vision : it's looks like a carnival. The couple are eating cotton candy together. They take a few rides and giggle at little things. The feminine has their hand wrapped around masculine's arm. They see a small boy passing by. They softly smile at each other and the feminine keeps their head on the other partner's shoulder.

I feel like this will happen when you're both either married or are extremely serious about each other. One of you could have their love language as spending quality time together. I am hearing "you make me feel pretty from the inside" awwww. There is so much to love and cherish here. It can almost feel like a dream to you. Stares filled with love is gonna be a thing for you. I am sensing that many of you like long drives, especially on the starry nights. Your union will move at a slow pace but it will feel so fulfilling.

I am hearing "you can see my soul". Its possible that you'll already know that they are gonna be your person and vice versa, which is why it would genuinely feel so secure and stable. I am also getting that you or your person could both love each other's eyes. I feel like you'll both put equal efforts to make this relationship work. You would want to make it work. You'll create so many sweet memories together. This connection will be immensely healing for the both of you. This could also be a past lifes/soulmate connection. You might even feel like you already know each other. A very supportive and a nurturing union!

Things which might resonate - red hair, melody (as a name), emrald eyes, home, racing hearts - calm thoughts, happy memories, balloons, blue skies.

৫Pile 3

➪ Scene 1

Vision : the couple are in their home. For some of you, y'all are making clay pots and for others, y'all are making food together. The energy is very playful here. There is gonna be a lot of mess around you. For clay pots, I am seeing that you'll be literally rubbing clay on each other, in a playful way. I am specifically seeing the masculine pouring clay on the feminine's head while they laugh and squirm but can't do anything about it. It looks like a scene straight out of a rom-com lol.

I am hearing "you feel like a warm hug to me". Your connection seems to be the type where you start talking with eyes, if that makes any sense. It holds a lot of depth. You'll both be willingly sinking into it. I am seeing happiness overpowering melancholy from your lives. It's a type of union you crave. The feminine energy here either likes dancing or is good at dancing without knowing it. I am also seeing a very pretty smile here. I am hearing "I never felt so alive". I think many of you like to keep things private too since I ain't honestly getting much here. In this scene, this playfulness will be very much needed in your lives because this will happen after a period of exhaustion.

You might think that things are going downhill and you need a break from things in general. Your person is very responsible when it comes to the people who are close to them. They are efficent and a hardworker. I am also sensing that they are a loyal, but a stubborn partner. During this moment, you will be working on your long term goals/career and so will they. You might experience something new when this happens, like a spark or a new feeling ignited from a scratch.

Things which might resonate - messy buns, loose tshirts, warm hugs, white tops, rainbows, "catch me", loud laughs, reliable and stable.

➪ Scene 2

Vision : they are sitting on something which looks close to a cliff? The energy is again playful and sweet here. The couple are trying to annoy each other a little. They get up and the place changes. I feel like you'll be on a vacation when this will happen. I am seeing y'all travelling and changing vehicles. Clicking aesthetic + goofy pictures together. Honestly, it looks like you'll be having fun during this moment. Both the feminine and the masculine energies look very lively.

I feel like if one person refuses to do something adventurous, their partner will push them forward and make them do it just for experience. There can be some drinking involved too, but everything will be lighthearted and comfortable. Someone here likes motorcycle/bike rides? This could be both of you too. Y'all are my adventurous couple pile, fr. I am sensing that as soon as you wake up, you'll be up and ready to go about your day. Might have a huge itenary. You are your person can like to take breaks in between the journey. It can also be a road trip, or a world tour! I also feel like your person likes to really take care of you. Getting you flowers, treating you with some wine, and then leaving you dirty little notes. They are the type to hold the door open for you. This can take place some time in summer.

Like I said, I feel like you both were trying to make fun of each other and it only made the other partner laugh harder than before. Y'ALL THIS IS SO CUTE, I just heard "faking apology after a fight". So if you guys have small arguments or something, you and your person aren't the type to stretch the shit out of the conversation. Instead, you'll just say sorry, kiss and make up. Your person seems to be very kind and patient, but also fun loving. They can pull off both the serious as well as the 'having fun' look. OH I got a thing of how you'll annoy each other¿ I saw the feminine lying on the bed, asking the masculine to turn off the lights but the masculine energy person keeps switching the lights on and off which annoys the feminine energy person and they end up throwing pillows at the masculine till they turn off the lights. Although this can also turn into a pillow fight ngl.

You two could also mirror each other in some way. Okay I am seeing smth more-yall stop omg

"You're good" *sips coffee/drink*

"What?"

"You're good, dumbass" *flicks the other person's forehead"

Things which might resonate - icecream, stereo, mirrors, 11:30, clubs, Vietnam, boats, fog, long skirts, thin white cardigans, braveheart, *brings out nerf guns*

➪ Scene 3

Vision : it looks like a cruise. I am seeing the couple about to dive into the ocean. One of them takes a deep breath, and then they both proceed to jump. Once they rise up again, they laugh but the expression soon changes to staring off at a distance, and then a smile.

A lot of emotions are being reflected here. I feel like you'll be trying many things with this person which you didn't before. I am hearing "your eyes opened mine". With you both, it's the little actions which reflect love and affection. There's so much you two will gain and learn together in this union. This is also the only pile I got the lovers for :3

This connection will be divinely guided. Your energies are complimentary to each other. It might look complex to others, it's just the way people will view the two of you. But you'll fit perfectly together. Even when things go south, your commitment towards each other gives y'all a choice to bloom or doom further. If one of you is curious about something, you won't hesitate to hide your curiosity. There won't be any need of that. I am also hearing "blessings". This union will bring you warmth and healing. It's like the wounds remain, but they turn into pretty scars instead of hurtful memories, if that makes any sense. Comfort is also being emphasized here.

Things which might resonate - cobalt blue, subtle, echos, morning light, guitar, laptop screens, past nourishing the future, "I will love you like I do".

I don't allow anyone to plagiarize or rewrite the content produced by me.

#Spotify #the wild candy #future spouse #future partner #soulmate #future spouse readings #tarotblr #tarot readings #free readings #tarot daily #pick a pile #pac #pick a card readings #pick a card #detailed pac #tarot #tarot reader

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cno-inbminor · 3 years ago

Text

iterum vivere (childe/tartaglia)

a/n: wow, it’s been fucking forever. first genshin fic featuring childe/tartaglia!!! a very huge thank you to @suspensin for reading this over and being my rock and support, and i love her so fucking much. I couldn’t have finished this without her!

plot: reincarnation and modern/uni!au ft. afab reader!traveler with she/they pronouns x childe/tartaglia

-- in which meeting childe is a bit of a dangerous game of push and pull

wc: 12.1k; angst + fluff

warnings: DOES CONTAIN IN-GAME SPOILERS (1.5? 1.6? + story quest and idek) and NSFW MENTIONS (mdni to be safe). there’s no explicit smut but thoughts do run a bit wild here and there

EDIT: Altered ChiLumi version now posted on AO3 here!

“Haven’t we met before?”

The shine in your eyes does nothing to hide your curiosity, head even tilting a little in observation. He watches them scan his face for any recognizable features, but attempts to focus on the strange, taut string of déjà vu that pulls him toward you. In a moment of absentmindedness, he had heard a faint voice call out his name from your direction. Confusion overtook him as you weren’t looking at him, but something inside his brain said that it had to be from you. And so his feet redirected his path towards your figure in the student union building, as if on a mission.

“A fucking whale, Childe?”

Oh.

“I don’t think so…?” You trail off, curiosity now replaced by perplexed feelings. “Do we have a class together?”

I think I would’ve noticed you by now if you were.

“Ah, what’s your major?” Childe asks quickly to avoid listening to the little voice in his head.

“History and anthropology, you?”

“Economics, but I’ve taken a history course for core credits. Maybe it was then?”

“With Dr. Zhong?”

“Yes!” He snaps his fingers. Part of his brain decides to usefully function and scan his memories to see if he remembers your face or head of hair in the lecture hall then. “Last year? Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10 to 11:20?”

“Actually, yeah,” you affirm in surprise. You think you would remember the relatively attractive ginger in your class, but honestly, it had all been such a blur and you were often pretty sleepy during class. Dr. Zhong didn’t quite appreciate it, but you made up for it with your exam and essay grades, as well as paying better attention in some of his other courses.

“Did you need me for anything?”

“I’d like for you to come visit and meet my family.”

He’s really not appreciating this extra voice speaking for him.

“Well…uh…” Childe stammers and looks away sheepishly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He honestly had no reason for approaching you, and now, he just looks like a desperate idiot. Think quick, he tells himself, floundering for some shitty excuse.

“I wanted to, uh, take another history course as an elective and um, wanted to know if you had any recommendations?”

“Oh,” you blink. That’s a first. When he meets your gaze, the swirling shades of sapphire strike something deep within you. Flashes of events you can’t make out go by in the blink of an eye, but then you realize you’ve been staring for too long. Blood rushes to your cheeks because you don’t exactly want this guy to get the wrong idea from you, because how are you supposed to explain, “I’m sorry, but I think we have met before, but just a really, really long time ago, and we might’ve been more than just acquaintances because that’s what it feels like?”

“I think you’d like Teyvat Mythology,” your voice wavers on the verge of cracking. “Dr. Zhong might have a TA this time around, but Xiao’s a great teacher. Doesn’t have long, rambling anecdotes, but explains things well and gets straight to the point.”

“C-cool, I’ll look into it,” Childe replies and smiles brightly. “I’ll head out then,” jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, where he just realized he left a grouchy Scaramouche waiting by a vending machine, newly purchased Starbucks Tripleshot drink in hand. “Nice seeing you, (y/n).”

He scurries off before you both realize that you never told him your name.

“Who’s that?” Scaramouche asks, jutting his chin in your vague direction.

“Someone from my Intro to Liyuean History course last year,” Childe waves off. “Come on, let’s go before the line at the pasta bar gets too long.”

The next time you see Childe is by accident, traversing across an open field of grass that many students like to sit out on to relax with friends, sunbathe, hold events, or play casual team sports if room permits.

You had your earbuds in and were scrolling through social media when laughter rang above all other sound, causing your head to snap up and swivel around to find the source. And while it might’ve been strange to an outsider, your steps immediately slowed as you watched the man of your tiring, vivid dreams sprint in your direction, eyes pinned on a frisbee heading towards him.

He’s wearing a grey sports tank and basketball shorts, headband holding back his bangs as he makes a slight jump in the air to catch the plastic disc between his palms. His feet plant into the grass as he looks for someone to pass it to, and you watch (with embarrassment) the muscles in his throwing arm relax and tighten with practice, frisbee steadily soaring through the air in a beautiful arc towards a teammate. He then lightly jogs to get closer to his group, but then his back stiffens.

Before your instincts kick in for you to turn and bail, he looks over his shoulder and stares straight at your now stunned self.

The sole ruby earring that glints in the sunlight catches your attention, and you recall your dreams of terrifyingly dark, violet electric power, blades of water rushing toward you, and then the stomach-churning sensation of falling from great heights pours concrete into your veins—

Childe looks a little amused for having your sole focus, hand lifting up for a quick wave. And as you numbly return the greeting, your heart beats out, “Run from him.”

And so with the flight response pulsing and firing from your synapses, you abruptly speed walk away, almost breaking out into a sprint towards your dorm. You ignore his pointed, confused look, and pretend you don’t feel the two holes of imaginary fire searing into your back. It isn’t until you’re laying back in bed that you release a huge sigh of relief and pray to a deity you don’t believe in that those eyes of mirth will not haunt you tonight.

But of course, with a deity that doesn’t exist, the prayers go unanswered.

“Do you believe in any of the mythology you teach?” You ask Xiao about a few days later when you stop by his cubicle. Luckily, no one else is around for this conversation, and Xiao has always been kind enough to humor your thoughts. Granted, he might feel obligated because you had asked Dr. Zhong to be your advisor for your undergraduate Honors thesis, and Xiao was directed to be your receiver of some general questions and source of information if he wasn’t around.

A quick scan of your complexion tells Xiao everything he needs to know. Your eyes are overtaken with rumination and exhaustion, haziness clouding them as you seem to ponder over your own question. It’s not often that you ask him anything not related to your thesis or coursework.

“Perhaps there’s some sense and truth to the tales passed down,” he softly muses. “What makes you ask?”

You lift yourself to sit on the clean area next to his computer, legs slowly swaying back and forth. “It might sound crazy but...I’ve been having dreams lately. They feel too real, too natural to be anything that my mind would make up. I’ve never had the most creative imagination by any means, which is why there’s some comfort to me being a history major, but I can’t shake these.”

“So why ask me about the mythology?”

“...the Archons are there. I even dreamt that I met the Geo and Anemo Archons. And they controlled various elements, just like we were taught.”

You don’t notice that Xiao has ceased his rapid typing, fingers hovering over the keyboard before one hand removes his glasses from his face. He uses the other to rub his eyes and softly pinch the bridge of his nose before sliding the frames back on. Dark, golden amber eyes survey you as you grapple with the unfathomable possibilities of your nightly visions, at least until you shake your head in disbelief at yourself and lightly scoff.

“Who am I kidding?” You ask no one in particular. “Maybe I’ve been doing too much research and everything’s mixing together.”

“You’re ahead of schedule, if that provides any consolation.”

“Some.”

It takes Childe a grand total of one minutes and 53 seconds to sign up for Teyvat Mythology for the spring semester.

WInter in Liyue is only slightly miserable, being so close to the ocean. It’s chillier than usual on this dreary day, yet something compelled you to exit your dorm and shakily make your way to the campus coffee shop for a warm drink. Coffee, hot chocolate, you haven’t quite decided yet, but just as you let yourself bask in the warm building, familiar ginger hair and blue eyes wash away the comfort.

Or do they douse you in security?

They remind you of your recent dreams that now have shifted away from stress and violence to easygoing summer days by the oceanside, running barefoot in the sand while collecting beautifully patterned azure starconches. Sometimes, you thrust a hand towards an oversized four-leaf clover on a wooden stake with the power of wind and catch yourself in the air, soaring and looking around to find more of the little shells. Other nights, they consist of climbing steep cliffs, only to sit at the edge in the clouds with fatigue wracking through your system and marvel at the view before you.

Someone’s always with you though, ruby earring and maroon mask and cobalt blue gem hanging from the waist, sprinting with you, playfully tackling you down, pulling you up towards mountain peaks, laying their head on your shoulders, brushing their lips against your cheek--

You welcome the change of peace in those dreams, but only because they don’t leave you quite as tired the next day, as if you’d been avoiding an inescapable dark force.

Part of you wants the burning question of why this person, this man, in all his glory and brightness, affects you so fucking much when you barely even know the guy -- why looking at him sends your heart to lodge itself in your esophagus, why your lungs feel like they’re so close to being completely collapsed under the weight of his stare, why feeling like you’re trapped and caught between wanting to run towards yet away from him. It makes no sense, and you’re tired of trying to make sense of anything you don’t exactly want to remember from your dreams for some, once again, inexplicable reason.

But there’s no time to think as he quickly ambles towards you, your own feet shuffling forward to meet him in a warped reference of a distance that constitutes to “the middle” before you can stop yourself. Your shivering hasn’t quite stopped yet, and Childe seems to take notice of it.

“Pretty cold out there,” he softly states. It’s cute, the way you’re curling in on yourself to retain some warmth.

“Y-yeah, not sure why I decided I really needed something warm to drink right now,” you reply and avoid his gaze. He watches you peer over his shoulder to squint at the menu display hanging from the ceiling, seemingly contemplating on what you should get.

“How about I get yours today? My treat for your class recommendation last time.” Anything to keep you here longer. Childe doesn’t realize how much he’s missed you, which confuses him, and chooses to ignore the fact that he’d been camping himself at the study tables in the building where the history department is located in hopes of even just catching a quick glimpse of you.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you immediately attempt to subvert his generous offer, hands shooting out from your jacket pockets and waving in rejection. “It was nothing.”

“Please?” Childe puts on his best puppy eyes before reaching for one of your wrists, gently tugging you to the register. “Just this once?”

You want so badly to squash the tiny flare of disappointment that erupts in your chest from the newly acquired knowledge that this was just a one time thing. Do econ majors hate to feel in debt? That they must be even with everyone, or would rather have people indebted to them than the other way around?

There’s no time to think when Childe gives the cashier his order before turning to you, and without wanting to waste anyone’s time, you rattle off your usual beverage. He’s quick in fishing out his student ID to spend some of his campus currency, shooting you a boyish grin when you pout at your half-opened wallet.

“Go take that table over there,” he says, pointing to one in the corner by some windows. “I’m gonna tell my friends to go on without me.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude or pull you away from them,” you slightly panic. The sooner you can leave, the better. Right? “You don’t need to sit with me, I was just gonna head back to my dorm.”

“I insist. Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

Why your brain takes his orders over your own is a mystery in and of itself, because before you know it, you’re plopped down in one of the lounge seats and staring off into space, mind reeling over the last two minutes. You pretend you can’t hear the way Childe’s friends nudge his arm playfully with their shoulders, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively as Childe tries to get them to stop being nonsensical.

“You’re gonna scare them off,” he hisses at them, hands pushing at their backs so they could finally leave him to his devices.

“Not before you do!” One of them laughs and Childe groans at their antics. “All right, all right, we’ll go. They’re cute though, might steal them if you don’t make a move.”

The darkening of the aura surrounding Childe is too quick for them to fully process, not before he dampens any of their fleeting hopes with a, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

But it disappears just as fast when his and your drinks are called out, and he gives them one last shove before retrieving your to-go cups. Childe directs all his focus towards the seat diagonally from yours as opposed to the one that’s straight across, and you’re sharply ripped away from whatever reverie you let yourself slip into.

“Thank you,” you murmur, hands cupping the drink and feeling the heat seep into your fingertips. “You really didn’t have to, it was nothing big.”

“Can you blame me for just trying to find an excuse to finally talk to you?” He asks without a skip and you can’t tell if the quickening of your heartbeat is from a looming sense of doom or excitement. Those eyes, the tiny swirls of the ocean, blue like those shells buried in the sand--

It takes three seconds too long for you to understand where he was going with in his words, and part of you feels unamused at his smooth talking. You’ve always guarded yourself against guys like Childe, devilishly handsome who know their way around language semantics, ready to pull you in and just as ready to push you away. That (possibly unfair) bias, coupled with everything else you’ve been feeling for him, sounded the alarms and set the walls up around your heart. Perhaps you need to stop wearing your heart on your sleeve, because Childe immediately retracts his forwardness.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I promise I’m not looking for anything in return and you don’t owe me anything, but I really did just...want to sit and talk and...get to know you?” Childe trails off a little towards the end. Your body loosens up and relaxes just a tiny bit, feeling bad for your snap judgment. Let the guy do something nice, don’t look into it too much, you tell yourself. It’s a coffee, not a five-course dinner.

You reach out a hand towards him, small smile across your lips, ready for his to join yours in a quick handshake. “I’m (y/n), senior history and anthropology double major. It’s nice to meet you.”

The pounding of your heart against your ribcage has nothing to do with the shimmering of his eyes, nothing to do with the fact that his hand fits with yours just right, and nothing to do with the fact that an eerily similar voice from your dreams whispers, “I love you.”

You learn a number of things about Tartaglia in the four hours, like his family members and their respective interests, which classes he did and didn’t enjoy taking, certain takes on Schnezhnayan politics, his own various hobbies, crazy accidents from the occasional college parties, and more. He’s a bit of an open book, probably telling you way more than any regular person would, and definitely more than anything you revealed during all this time. Everything you tell him seems surface level, nothing too deep. The walls are still there to protect you from the unexplainable, profound feelings his presence seems to elicit, and luckily, he doesn’t prod any further. Childe feels the resistance and respects it, which just adds more brownie points in your book, and you almost feel bad for having given so little in return.

“I wish we were taking Teyvat Myth together,” he sighs when walking you back to your dorm, hands stuffed in his pockets. His ruby earring catches the light from the sunset, the shade almost complimentary to the golden amber rays that streak across the sky. “Would’ve helped having a history major in there.”

“Is that all I am to you, an answer bank?” You jokingly ask, but he watches concerningly as you shoot your gaze to the ground, mindfully stepping over the cracks between concrete slabs.

“Of course not,” a gentle sincerity reaches you, giving you the confidence to make eye contact with him. “I’m sorry for making it sound like that, it wasn’t my intention. I really just meant it as a way of saying if the professor or TA ended up being a total bore, then well, having you would make it more fun.”

“I’m sure I’d bore you even more,” chuckling, speeding up to get away. You’re growing too comfortable in whatever atmosphere Childe has created, like an enclosed air bubble bobbing gently in the depths of the sea and letting the waves carry you both to whichever ends of the earth.

“Hey,” he interjects, hand reaching out to stop you with a soft yank of your wrist. There is no resisting force from you, feet stepping backward until he meets you eye to eye. It’s unfair in the way that he can render you motionless by standing just an inch from you, arms brushing with his head tilted closer to your own. “Seriously, I’m glad we did this today. Are you?”

No, because now I don’t know what to think, I don’t know who you are, I’m not any closer to figuring out why you terrify yet leave me so enamoured with you, I’m torn between punching and kissing you and--

“Yes,” you subconsciously answer, brain immediately short-circuiting to scold yourself. “I had fun.”

His grin, charming, devilish, is so so bright, bright enough to rival the Liyue sun that sits on the pier, on the edge of the ocean, bright enough to rival the love that your fraternal twin showers you with on a daily basis. You want time to stop right here because you’re almost sick of the voice settled deep within your heart that screams, “Don’t get comfortable, you must run from him!”

“Good. Let’s do this again?” And you nod, of course you do. Foolish you. “Don’t be a stranger!” He calls out as he turns on his heel and waves over his shoulder, hand raised in the air, and you’re suddenly transported to another scene, a less refined version of the Liyue Harbor, watching as the head of ginger hair with a red mask in a flashier attire of grey and maroon walks away from you and onto a roaring, magnificent ship; big, ivory sails only seen in books and museums. It’s the same gesture of “see you later”, and just before he turns, you blink, and you’re back to seeing your campus again.

But Childe does look back once, warm and content that you’re still standing there, watching over him, and he can’t help but think about when he can spend time with you again, because suddenly, it truly feels like there’s not enough of it anymore.

“Excuse me, what’s a Red Bull?”

The last thing, or person rather, you expect to see on the last day of finals for the fall semester, is a small boy who looks way too young to be here, tugging on the sleeve of your windbreaker. He’s at most eleven, ten maybe, but he has eerily similar characteristics, as well as an accent that doesn’t quite belong to most Liyue natives. Still gathering your bearings from your own perusing of the fridges that hold all the possible beverages a college student could consume, you kneel down until you’re at eye level with the child.

“Repeat that for me? Are you looking for a Red Bull, you say?”

“Yes!” He beams and holds out a student ID that most definitely doesn’t belong to him. “My brother asked me to grab him one because he was busy with something.”

Your eyes flit over to the top shelves where the aforementioned cans of caffeine are located, and definitely too high for someone of his height to reach. “I’ll grab one for you. Did he ask for a specific flavor?”

“Nope, he said regular. Thanks, you’re really nice! Do you know my brother?” He asks, waving the ID at you so you can get a better look at the name. That’s definitely a face you recognize, but the name leaves you confused.

“Yeah, um,” glance over again, “I know...Ajax…”

“He’s the best toy seller in the whole world!”

Somehow, it suits him much better than Childe or Tartaglia, and you’re not quite sure what toys have anything to do with the matter at hand. Speaking of hands, the little boy grabs yours in sheer delight. “Can you take me back to his room? I kinda forgot the directions he told me, and everything’s so big around here.”

“Sure, just let me buy something, too, and I’ll take you.”

“Okay!”

The cashier isn’t the least bit fazed by the little brunette at your side -- it’s always common for family members to come in around the end of semesters to pick up kids or visit, and being an open building with snacks and drinks and a stopping point of most tours, they’ve seen it all. You even let him pick out a bag of chips and a candy bar for himself for being so polite and not a complete menace, paying with your own campus currency.

Teucer, as you’ve learned in the last two minutes, likes to point out things and ask you questions. Luckily, you have answers to most of them and do your best to pad the time, enjoying the feeling of a tiny hand wrapped around three of your fingers. It’s sweet to any normal passerby, believing they’re witnessing an older sister doting on their little brother around the holidays, but to Childe, seeing the tender sweetness on your face as you nod along to whatever Teucer is rambling about to you, sets his heart aflame. He’s already constantly on the verge of wanting to hug and kiss you and never let go, but you haven’t made any indication that you could potentially like him back, and this is just torture.

“Look what they bought me!” Teucer shoves his rewards in Childe’s face as if he had extremely poor eyesight, and you can’t help but laugh a little as you set his Red Bull down on his desk, clutching your own preferred beverage while looking around his room. Finals must have gotten to him with the unusual lack of tidiness in the small space, some laundry strewn here and there, a couple boxes of eaten microwave dinners in the metal wire trash can, some textbooks left open and marked with more sticky notes than you’ve ever seen. You’d only been here once before to drop off some food that he desperately messaged you about, stuck doing a project that he just couldn’t step away from.

“Pretend you don’t see the mess,” Childe pleads, handing a kid tablet to his brother but holding on before Teucer can take it. “What do you say to our nice friend here for buying you these snacks?”

“Thank you!”

“It was nothing,” you shyly smile, ruffling his hair. “I enjoyed meeting you.”

“Wait, what’s your name again?”

“It’s (Y/n).”

“Okay, (y/n)! Wait…(y/n)..as in…”

Teucer trails off and gives a look to his brother, one that spells curiosity and trouble, before he grabs your hand and pulls you into a corner. Any movement Childe makes to leave his desk chair is immediately squashed by Teucer’s disapproval, and the older man is left to helplessly worry when you’re told to squat down so secrets can be whispered into your ear.

“He talks about you a lot whenever he calls home,” and you want to laugh at Tecuer’s attempt to sound as scandalous as possible. “All the time! I think he likes you, like, like like.”

Oh. Oh dear.

“What makes you say that?” You whisper back, indulging both yourself and him, yet also internally snickering at how troubled Childe looks.

“Sometimes, he video calls mama, but we’ll all sit around and talk, and whenever he’s talking about how he saw you or something, he just looks...happy. Really happy.”

The surprise on your face does nothing to settle Childe’s nerves and he’s about to start wringing his hands together. Whatever Teucer was telling you couldn’t be good, probably embarrassing, like the one time he unceremoniously fell on his ass while ice skating over a frozen lake, or when he tried fitting fifteen marshmallows in his mouth and nearly choked on them when their mother caught them in the act, or--

“I think he just thinks of me as a good friend,” you try to inform Teucer, not letting yourself get any semblance of hope. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“If you say so,” Teucer pouts. But then he stops whispering and bounds over back to his brother, grabbing the tablet before plopping down on the half-made bed.

“Look, I was overconfident and thought I could execute a perfect single loop on the ice, but there was a rock and I lost balance and--”

“I wasn’t being told any stories about you falling on ice, but do tell me more,” you chuckle and take some joy in watching the blush spread across his cheeks. It’s easy to tell that he’s mentally berating himself for jumping to conclusions.

“Well, first off, thanks for buying him all that, and my drink, too,” he sighs. “I spoil him enough as it is.”

“I can see why it’s hard not to,” you smile knowingly. “So is it just him here? Where’s the rest of your family?”

“Funny story, he somehow managed to convince my parents to let him come here on his own as his first ever plane flight, so I had to pick him up yesterday from the airport. He’s flying back with me tomorrow.”

“And the RA?” You ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Ah...well...what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him? Speaking of, what was Teucer whispering to you about?”

There’s a pensiveness that overtakes you when you look at Teucer again, who’s happily playing some sort of game and completely oblivious to the rest of his surroundings. You won’t, can’t, take his words to heart, and will take them with a grain of salt at most.

“Nothing important. Although I did learn something new...Ajax?”

“Say my name -- fuck, say it, please--”

“I guess cat’s out of the bag,” he chuckles and looks away, absolutely unaware of the flare of heat that swirls in your stomach from the fleeting vision just now. “I came up with other nicknames as a kid to seem cooler, and they just stuck with me. Plus, the business world is full of people who just want something from you, or just a transactional relationship. I’d rather not give my real name to them, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s fair,” you nod and lean to sit on the edge of his desk. A thought pops into your head and you turn the words over in your head like a washing machine on the spin setting, teeth gnawing on the flesh of your bottom lip. If Teucer hadn’t been in the room, he would’ve been this close to kissing you.

“But if it’s worth anything,” your voice slowly, softly starts, cautious and wary of your thoughts. “I think...Ajax suits you best.”

Curse fate. Curse the legendary Archons. Curse karma and deities and spirits because all he wants to do right now is stand and tower over you, trap you between himself and his desk so you can’t escape, take those pretty lips between his until they’re bruised and swollen because of him, hear you call out his name in the throes of pleasure so he can finally replace his fantasies with tangible memories. The unnatural, magnetic pull that draws him to you is unbearable now -- he feels like he’ll lose the last tendrils of his sanity if he doesn’t do something.

You can’t stop him from slowly reaching out to grab one of your hands, lifting it towards him until he’s close enough for you to feel his breath ghost over your knuckles. It sends a shiver down your spine and blood is pounding in your ears because you can’t begin to fathom what he’s thinking about while doing this, even more so when his lips make contact with your skin and your breath hitches, stuck in your throat as he languidly peeks at you beneath his eyelashes with a heated gaze, then lowly confessing, “My name sounds best when you say it.”

Good heavens.

It’s difficult to swallow and keep your composure, especially when Teucer yells out in glee over, what you can assume, beating something in his game, and Childe drops your hand. But his dilated pupils don’t retract in the slightest, refusing to let you look away so that maybe, you can understand what he’s trying to convey to you. He’s taking the first step because he’s terrible and can’t contain his self-control anymore, pushing the ball into your court, ready for you to either play or exit into the sidelines.

When you do blink, there’s a vision of your naked body wrapped around another, limbs clinging desperately to a sturdy and panting frame. Lips, much like the ones that have seared themselves onto your knuckles, are at your neck and sucking, biting, before moving to your ear and laying filthy words into them that drive you closer to the edge. It all happens so fast that you feel you’ve just experienced whiplash, yet also feeling secondhand embarrassment at how lewd some of these thoughts have been.

You can’t stay here any longer.

“I-I have to go,” spills off your tongue before you can really think about it. The way the haze shatters in his eyes is heartbreaking in its own way, but there’s no time for you to explain. Your brain is in overdrive and eager to run, run, run. It detects danger on all fronts, but you muster out a, “H-have a good break, come find me next semester, mmk?”

And you’re out the door with inhuman speed. When the door clicks shut, only then does Teucer look up from his screen and frown at the lack of your presence. “Where’d they go?”

Chlide doesn’t seem to hear him, and Teucer has never seen his big brother look so sad and confused before.

He holds on to that last tendril of hope, because mark his words, he will find you come January.

After about a week at home, enjoying the festive time with his family and mildly unconcerned about next year’s courses because that was a problem for another day, Childe has his first, crazy, nonsensical dream.

At least, that’s what he tells himself when he snaps awake and his body aches with exhaustion. Not only are his joints in agony, he also feels like he’s sporting unforeseen bruises, which makes absolutely no sense because he hasn’t done anything that would warrant them, no matter how much he and his brothers do some rough-housing. His night of sleep was all consumed by flashes and scenes of weapon fighting, lucid enough to remember feeling his arms flex and wield bows and double-headed polearms and being cognizant of all the enemies??? surrounding him. They ranged from deranged looking monsters, floating beings with soulless masks, and large humans in electricity-padded armor, to behemoth machines in the sky that could leave you within an inch of your life thanks to a drill for a hand?!

But what’s even worse is that you seem to have managed a deal with Morpheus himself and infiltrated his dreams. You were there, too, sometimes fighting with him, sometimes against him, much to his dismay, and while it was nice, he just didn’t get it. Why the friendliness and hostility? Why was there an anger that overtook him when looking directly at you, parrying your blade and sending harmful arcs of water toward your figure?

Why did he relish the fear in your eyes when he darted towards you with electricity cracking through the air?

There’s an overwhelming sensation now to grab his phone to text you and apologize -- for what, he can’t fathom and there are no words to accurately convey what he’s thinking. “Hey, sorry for wanting to kill you in my dream :( “? Or “Sorry for being a friend but then stabbing you in the back, but then being nice to you again”?

And the only thing that really made sense was the serenity and contentment that would course through his veins as the two of you danced around on ivory sandy beaches, picking up shiny blue starconches and taking down more weird creatures; the breathlessness when you would fall back into the water and re-emerge to reconfirm his beliefs that you were one of the most beautiful humans he’d ever laid his eyes on; the love--

Hold the fuck up.

He doesn’t love you. He likes you a whole lot and he’s severely and deathly attracted to you, but he doesn’t love you. Your existence has only been made known to him for about two months, and he didn’t really start talking to you until three weeks in. So no matter how comfortable he feels with you, no matter how much he wishes that you were sleeping peacefully next to him so his nights wouldn’t feel so lonely, it was too early, too hasty, to say that he loves you.

“I’ve been wondering, why didn’t you bring them home?” His mother asks him out of nowhere during breakfast, all to add to this extremely tumultuous roller-coaster morning he’s been having. All he wants to do is eat his bowl of milk and cereal, then potentially go back to sleep before fulfilling his promise to go with his siblings to the nearby skating rink. It takes everything in him to not choke on his spoon of grains.

“Agreed, didn’t you mention they didn’t really have any family to go back to and that the move to Liyue was semi-permanent?” His father chimes in, laying a quick peck on his wife’s temple. “It’s never fun to spend the holidays alone.”

“They would’ve felt like they were intruding,” Childe replies quietly, stabbing his bowl a few times before scooping up another spoonful of cereal to his mouth. “I know we’re friends, but we haven’t known each other for that long, and maybe they’d be uncomfortable because that’s a lot honestly…”

“You don’t know until you try,” his mother sings and pats him on the shoulder. “We do have a guest room after all.”

“For them and their twin?”

“And quite a comfortable futon with enough blankets.”

Childe smiles fondly at his parents’ kindness. He can only imagine what this winter break would’ve been like now -- you and your twin floating around, trying to help out with certain chores, sitting by the fireplace and watching TV, huddled up with mugs of hot chocolate, playing board games with everyone and engaging in all the shenanigans…

Laughing. Loving. Grinning. Basking.

Handing over one of his hoodies to you as a sick way of torturing yet blessing himself for seeing how lovely you look in his clothes, standing silently in the doorway as you attempt to help out with mealtimes next to his mother, watching you run around in the backyard and dodging his siblings’ snowballs while lodging a few of your own -- how wonderful it all would be.

But he squashes it down as quickly as possible, because you escaped his grasp. You ran away from his advances temporarily and even though you gave him permission to seek you out come the spring semester, he worries that you might take it back. Something will wake up inside of you to keep him out of your heart and your life, and he’s not confident enough at this point to believe there’s a good chance you will come spend the holidays with him and his family next year.

“Maybe next year, ma,” he sends her a hesitant, yet somewhat broken purse of his lips that’s just the least bit curved. It tells her everything he’s thinking, and the quick patting of his cheek lets him know she understands.

Half an hour later, Childe finds himself curled up on his side under the sheets, phone in hand as he stares at a blinking cursor. It shouldn’t be so hard to send a text to convey his holiday greetings, because that’s all it is -- part of him is becoming desperate and aching for some interaction with you, even if it’s just a text sent back for conventional social pleasantries. He’ll take it for now, right?

Before he can totally chicken out, his thumbs quickly type a, “Happy Holidays, (y/n) :)”, and it’s a little embarrassing how quickly after he hits the ‘send’ button that he tosses it over his shoulder so he’s not directly looking at it anymore. His heartbeat is too quick and he prays for no phantom vibrations or phantom sound notifications to avoid any disappointment of thinking he got a reply. It was a harmless text, yet he’s treating it like he just got assigned on a mission to go and murder someone for the first time. What will he do if you never text him back? Does that mean you really don’t want to talk to him? Are you dead in a ditch somewhere? Did you change numbers and not tell him? Did your twin get all the details and make the executive decision to block his number? Will he never get a chance to talk to you again, even if it’s about something in the Teyvat Mythology class next semester? Will you--

His shoulder screams in protest when he quickly flips himself over at the text notification sound, hands shakily unlocking his phone and opening up your conversation again. His heart rate significantly decreases, reaching back to its normal pace, especially as he reads the little words on his screen.

“Happy Holidays, Ajax ^^”

There is hope.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

You’re huddled under the comforter of your twin’s bed, phone just peeking above the edge as you stare at it with a brightness in your eyes. For the most part, you had been sulking there, apart from meals and going back to your own room to sleep, and mentally berating yourself for the way you reacted to Childe the week before.

“He just texted me to say happy holidays,” shrugging to put on a facade of indifference. It’s stupid that you’re trying to hide your feelings from your twin of all people, who could pick apart and identify your emotions in a heartbeat. A roll of his eyes lets you know that you haven’t fooled him at all.

“So you think that whatever comment he made, which was very suggestive and indicative of clearly non-platonic feelings, was just something...friendly? Remind me again how you came to that conclusion?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking!” You whine, looking around to see if there was anything you could toss at him. “It’s just, with everything, all the dreams and stupid gut feelings, I just -- I don’t know, okay?? I can’t tell you enough how much I wish I had just kissed his stupid face and see where it goes from there.”

“Okay, gross, but don’t beat yourself up. Though...I do have a good idea on how to maybe get a good reaction out of him. You wanna go to the New Years’ celebration at Xiangling’s?”

“I think she’d threaten me with a knife if I didn’t. She wanted to go shopping at some point, too.”

“I’ll drop the overprotective brother act for one night, okay? One night, just to let this happen, and for your peace of mind.”

He does a fair amount of conspiring with Xiangling, a friend they met one time at a restaurant a couple years ago, even tagging along on the shopping trip. Together, the three of you find yourself a dress that Xiangling swears would make any person drool over you, including Childe, because at the end of the day, he was a person with the possibility of being attracted to you.

You think it’s a bit silly, but honestly, what do you have to lose at this point?

At 11:57PM on New Years’ Eve, Childe is standing outside in the freezing cold with his family, arms lifting up bags of sparklers and fireworks. They’ve driven out closer to the wild like they do every year, and everybody excitedly gets lighters ready, making sure someone’s got a clock out there that tells the seconds. As the younger kids open up the packaging and argue over which one to set off first, Childe’s phone vibrates in his coat pocket.

It’s 11:58PM when he manages to fish the device out and thank himself for buying gloves that are touch-screen friendly, excited to see that there are two texts from you, the latter reading, “Happy New Year!”. It doesn’t matter that you’re a little early, but he’s mainly intrigued by the fact a photo came before it. In his mind, you’re probably curled up with your twin brother, hopefully a selfie because wow, he misses your face.

He gets something else instead, and he is so glad that it’s dark outside and the electric lamp they have is too far away from him to draw any attention.

You have your arm around your brother’s waist and another girl’s that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s a full frontal view of your outfit, one that hugs your curves beautifully and shows more cleavage than he’s ever seen from you, sophisticated and elegant, yet fun and leaving enough to the imagination. There’s a bright smile coming from all of you, and you look like you’re at someone’s house or apartment with plenty of other people milling around in the back, but they don’t matter, not when all he can focus on is you.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, arousing, mind blowing, and gods, he wishes he could teleport to Liyue at this moment, find you, and kiss you right at midnight. Fuck the fact that he doesn’t exactly believe in superstitions like, “Kissing your significant other at midnight means you’ll last forever!” but he’s willing to take the chance with it on this night and the ones after, if he’s allowed. He tries not to think too much about pinning you against the wall and letting the world dissolve -- wants to be the one with the privilege to drag down that zipper and feel his bare skin on yours, and --

As Teucer starts yelling there’s only a minute left, he instinctively locks his phone and shoves it away out of anyone’s view. The last thing he needs is his family teasing him about ogling at your photo for a straight 50 seconds, wide-eyed and pupils on the verge of dilating, the visible breath leaving his mouth just a smudge more dense and prominent than usual.

The only thing he can do to distract himself from popping a boner in front of his parents is to join in on the countdown, making sure all the fireworks are set up correctly and grabbing a sparkler for himself. He waves it around with Tonia and promises to fulfill her wishes of taking one of those pictures right as she draws a pattern in the air. Their excitement is palpable and addicting, and even though the larger fireworks set off a few seconds after midnight hits, the nostalgia fills his lungs with fond memories and future wishes that they only continue this tradition for as long as possible, and hopefully, with you at his side.

When it’s 12:04AM, you get a picture message back of Childe bundled up in a black paletot coat, matching beanie and all, a gloved hand holding a sparkler and lips curved upwards, with a caption that says, “Happy New Year’s! See you soon :)”. You show it to Xiangling and your brother, both taking it as a win in their books, although the former does tipsily protest that there should be a better indicator of Childe’s brain breaking at how amazing you look right now. Maybe she’s prophetic, because another text chimes in and the words set you aflame, as well as suggestive whoops into your ears.

It’s a simple, “You look incredible btw”.

If you didn’t want to properly savor this moment, you would’ve found the nearest shot of the strongest liquor and tossed it back with abandon. But you want to remember the warmth in your veins that wasn’t from the alcohol or the heating, the fluttering of your heartbeat, the teeth-baring grin that you couldn’t fight off, the constant re-reading of those four words -- because they’re so different from everything you had been feeling before with him, the need for protection, the need to escape. Instead, you’d like to be in his arms right now and see for yourself how he’d look at you in this moment, and if he would take any action.

You want him to. So, so bad.

Childe spends his last week at home hating the fact that you’re just sitting around somewhere in Liyue, doing whatever you’re doing, probably doing some light preparation for your last semester of classes, and he’s not there to take advantage of all this free time and hang out with you. When classes start, it’ll be busy and hectic. You still have your thesis to finish and revise, and while that won’t eat up all your time, it’s still some that he’d want to fill in with his presence if he could. He debates whether or not he should ask for your schedule and compare it with his, maybe set up meetings every other day or propose that they all eat one meal together every day. Childe’s not quite sure of what you plan to do after graduation, as it hasn’t come up in conversation yet, but either way, he’s determined to stay in contact and make things work out. Long distance isn’t ideal, but with technology now, he’ll take it.

He feels a little bad for how excited he probably looked to be leaving home, uncharacteristic for the most part. His older siblings have already gone back to their respective homes, and it’s mainly Teucer and Tonia that worry and tear up when he starts packing his belongings. Tonia finds it unfair that Teucer got to meet you first and the latter makes sure to rub it into everyone’s faces. It’s hard for Childe to sleep on the plane because he’s thrumming with excitement, yet somehow even more nervous than usual when the plane hits small bouts of turbulence, and he doesn’t seem to relax until he sets foot back on campus.

He’s here. It’s January, and you’re physically closer to him than ever in the last two weeks.

“Found you.”

On the first day of classes, you’re sitting alone with some salad greens in a bowl, poking your fork at some scraps while you watch something on your phone, earbuds in and back towards the entrance of the canteen. It would explain the unannounced entrance of the very person who’s been at the forefront of nearly every thought in the last 96 hours, his fingers gingerly removing an earbud to surprise you as best as possible, and you startle in your seat.

Your heart kicks into overdrive when he hands you back your earbud and pulls out the seat next to you, setting his own plate of food down as he plops down in his chair. But then he says nothing afterwards, instead choosing to send you a cheeky grin before digging in. You’re left to slowly phase out of your state of shock, stuck between either running away or frantically texting your twin to come and save you even though he was off on a date with Keqing.

It’s not that you weren’t elated at the fact that Childe had done exactly as you told him last month, you just weren’t...prepared? It’s a shitty excuse and a cop out -- you’re mainly just having trouble with racking your brain to find the right words. What are you supposed to say? What should you do? Is it socially acceptable to lean over and kiss him on the cheek because that’s what you’d like to impulsively do at this very second??

“So you did,” you settle and steal a roasted potato wedge from his plate. It’s his turn to be taken by surprise, but he gets over it much quicker than you do. In fact, he spears two wedges and drops them in your bowl, smiling at you as best as he can with a mouth full of food. You give them your thanks before the silence settles in again.

“Did you have a good break?” He asks before his next bite.

“I did. You?”

“It was nice. My parents said I should’ve brought you and your twin home to spend the holidays with us. Can’t say it didn’t cross my mind before finals.”

Holy shit, what? “We couldn’t intrude like that, but that’s really nice of you guys.”

“That’s okay, there’s plenty of chances to visit later.”

You tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows. “But we graduate this semester?”

Childe challenges you with one of his own eyebrows raised. “And? Are we never gonna see each other again?”

Honestly, the possibility had occurred to you. You aren’t entirely sure of Childe’s plans after graduation, and if that meant he was staying in Liyue or going back to Snezhnaya or even moving to Inazuma or Mondstat. While people preach on and on about how lasting friendships and relationships are often formed during college, you believe it’s more common to slowly drift apart as life gets busier. And if Childe moved away, or if you did, it’d be hard to consistently keep in touch with 10 hour workdays.

The thought saddens you, regardless. You like him so much and you’re glad that he was even in your life to begin with, because as unbelievable as it sounds, seeing him was almost akin to the feeling of coming home. Amidst all your nerves, your confusion, your spiraling thoughts, something deeply sated in your heart was a comfort that you found with very few people in your life whenever in his presence.

The thought of leaving and never looking back somehow doesn’t feel new -- it’s bittersweet, but the air in your lungs feels like it’s surrendered to something, like it was to be expected.

“You can’t just leave without telling me--”

“It was last minute! I had no choice!”

“You could’ve written up a message, anything--”

“Can you imagine the position you’d be in if the message got intercepted? I wouldn’t have been safe, she’d make you come after me--”

“As if you’d be any safer in Inazuma of all places! That’s the one place I can’t easily get to!”

“I can take care of myself, Childe, I don’t need you to protect me.”

“This isn’t about me protecting you, (y/n) and -- stop walking, will you?!”

“Then what is this about?” You spin on your wheel with eyes aflame. “Why are you so angry with me? It’s normal for me to disappear for weeks at a time, why was this any different?”

“Because you could’ve died!” He yells back in despair, chest heaving. Your silence is his cue to continue. “You could’ve died and I wouldn’t have known until much later. You could’ve died and all I’d ever think about were the things I never got to say to you, and how I wish I had treated every day with you like it was our last.”

It isn’t hard to tell that you’re stunned and at a complete loss for words. Childe often hides behind facades of charm and wit, and only when he is truly weak does he choose to be this vulnerable, baring his heart for you to see.

“I only have two nightmares in this world. One, my family being harmed in any way. Two, reading in a report or hearing from an agent that you’ve been captured and killed.”

“I like to think that we will.”

His hand reaches out to lay on top of yours, giving it a quick squeeze. “Well, let’s make the most of it this semester.”

Conversation afterwards is easy, filling each other in on holiday activities. Childe speaks extensively about several family traditions and you listen with rapt attention, basking in how fond he is of all of them. Even as you both bring your dishes to the return belt and leave, he immediately offers to drive you both somewhere to get boba, noticing your reluctance to part ways. But boba shops have to close, and you both have class tomorrow morning, and you’re both finding any excuse to keep talking, even if that means sitting outside your dorm building on a nearby bench.

You eventually bid each other good night’s and see you later’s, him refusing to walk away until the heavy door locks shut behind you after you swipe your student ID, and you looking over your shoulder to watch his figure disappear into the night.

True to his intentions, Childe makes great efforts to meet you at least once a day, and he can’t get enough. Each parting from you tugs and tugs at his heart, as if there’s a high possibility you’ll never want to see him again the next day, and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Your twin and Childe get along well for the most part, and he even meets Xiangling on one of her shifts at her regular restaurant, who sends you a salacious wink and an eyebrow wiggle over his shoulder that nearly causes you to burst from embarrassment.

February rolls over without a hitch, even if you’re a little disappointed that Childe didn’t make a move for Valentine’s Day. Granted, you two still spent time with each other and he’s so darn physically affectionate and he bought you a carnation from the event his dorm held, but you wish you had the guts to fess up and just kiss the man.

It’ll happen some day, you tell yourself. You have time before graduation.

Two days before the end of the Friday that would signal the start of Spring Break, you wake up in a cold sweat, mind reeling and head splitting, heart so so heavy, as a connection is made between your present and your dreams. Not long after, there are tears streaming silently down your face and into your open palms placed in your lap, and you sit in shock as everything comes back to you. Memories are such treasured burdens, you realize.

For the most part, you had gotten used to the dreams, choosing to take charge of what you know and feel now with Childe over succumbing to some strange neurological premonitions. Especially in your dreams when many people’s faces were blurred over and hazy, and the only things you could rely on were voices, touch, and other physical features. You thought that maybe your mind was just playing tricks by transposing Childe’s hair onto a body that was also strikingly similar to his, but for the first time last night, you could see each defining feature on his face as clear as day.

The sight of his figure arching gracefully over yours, the water arrows that appeared out of thin air, the back that protected you from some military men, the voice that said, “Hey girlie, hold still.”

And that was when you had snapped awake to your current state.

Past the initial shock and uncontrollable tears, you soon bent over as sobs wracked your chest, overwhelmed by all the emotions and the pain the memories brought you; losing your twin, finding him to only be left with even more questions after roaming for decades and decades, meeting all your loved ones throughout Mondstat and Liyue, fighting yet falling so hard for Childe, feeling the fear when facing his Foul Legacy form, hating him for Osial, loving him, breathing heavily as the tip of your blade was pointed at his neck and his own just centimeters from yours, tendrils of water inching closer and closer--

Everything makes sense now.

When you meet your twin for lunch at the cafeteria, you pay no mind to the fact that you’re in public and hug him harder than you ever have in years. He’s already a little alarmed that your eyes seem swollen and you look like finals came two months early, but when he asks what’s wrong, all he gets is a shake of your head and nothing more than, “Just a bad nightmare. I love you, y’know that?”

“I love you too?”

“Don’t sound so unsure, now let’s go and get in line before they run out of Jueyun Chili Chicken.”

Even when you meet Xiao later in the early evening to talk about your thesis, you find yourself holding back more tears just two minutes in, reminded of his past and his own life, and he’s moderately concerned, hesitantly handing you a tissue from the corner of his desk when a stray tear escapes. “Is everything okay?” He hesitantly asks, really hoping that he didn’t do anything to make you cry.

“No,” you almost wail and sniffle while dabbing at your eyes. “Sorry, it’s just been a really long day.”

Xiao’s inquisitive gaze softens, remembering how hard undergraduate life could be sometimes. Graduate school was a whole other level, but that shouldn’t discount your own personal difficulties. Plus, in all of the year and a half that he’s known you, you’ve never broken down like this before in front of him.

“You work really hard, Xiao,” you continue, and he’s not sure where this is coming from. “You’re always so helpful and willing to work with me and answer my stupid questions and like-- you practice self-care, right?”

Xiao nods as a white lie, but it seems to comfort you. Maybe too much because you pull him in for a quick and unexpected hug, and you both decide to reschedule this meeting for tomorrow.

As per usual, you wait for Childe to join you for dinner since you finished up earlier than expected. It gives you more time to think about everyone from Mondstat -- Kaeya, Diluc, Lisa, Jean, Amber...funny to think that some things never changed as you compared their past version to the ones you know now.

“Mora for your thoughts?”

There’s a peace that warms your heart when you hear Childe’s voice, one that forces you to smile at him as he sits down next to you. “Just thinking about old friends.”

“I have to admit, I’ll be a little jealous if it’s another guy taking up more space than me in that pretty brain of yours.”

What a flirt. This man isn’t good for your heart. “Who said you had any to begin with?”

He dramatically places a hand over his heart. “You wound me, (y/n). How will I ever recover?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you snicker. Childe reaches over to pinch your cheek and you bat at him in protest. Easily, he grabs one of your hands and simply pulls you towards the food lines, knowing that you’ll stop fighting back soon.

Part of it feels strange now to feel and see his hands with no leather gloves on.

“Childe,” you start halfway through your meal, continuing after he hums back in reply. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

He freezes briefly, but recovers so quickly that if you hadn’t been watching so closely, you wouldn’t have noticed. “I think it’s neat, the idea of having past lives. Why do you ask?”

What he really wants to ask is if you’ve been having those dreams, too; if he’s starring in your nights like you have been in his.

“Just a thought, especially since you’re taking Teyvat Myth now, too.”

“Do you...do you think if there was a past life, that we knew each other?”

There’s something about the look of content on your face before you meet his gaze -- he thinks that you know more than you’re letting on but you’re holding back for some reason. He wants to know what’s going through your brain right now, why the fondness in your eyes sends a jolt through him like he’s been searching for it all his life, if you know anything about this magnetic pull between you two.

“I like to think that we knew each other well.”

Even though the first day of your returned memories was somewhat eventful, you couldn’t help but feel yourself wanting to pull back from Childe -- at least, until you can successfully compartmentalize which emotions belonged to you past self and which ones belonged to your current mindset. You didn’t quite agree with his duties and his affiliation with the Fatui back then, even if he had his reasons that did make sense, to some degree.

The killing, the threatening, so intent on stealing Rex Lapis’s Gnosis in the name of the Tsaritsa, summoning Osial as a mean to an end -- and you definitely can’t forget how stubborn he was in not listening to your protests, so caught up in his brain that you had betrayed him and sent you plummeting to a near-death experience despite his earlier promise of no intention of killing you specifically.

Everything had been toeing a faint, thin line with Childe then. Undeniable chemistry and tension, guarding yourself for yours and Paimon’s safety, slashing at Fatui agents, whispering out pleas and affirmations of “I’m yours” while riding him, sometimes having to sneak out in the mornings…

The only thing you don’t remember is how everything ends -- maybe it’ll come back to you eventually, but for now, you think you’re okay not knowing.

If Childe still doesn’t remember anything from back then, you think it’d be unfair to spend time with him in all your conflicting emotions, even when it’s spring break, where you have so much more hours in the day to be with each other than normal. Fun plans around Liyue had been made, like a two-day one-night trip to Yaoguang Shoal, and you’re this close to cancelling on him.

But he had been looking forward to it so much, even made most of the preparations for it. Who are you to rob that joy from him when it was you who couldn’t figure out your own shit? Are you self-destructing?

Perhaps.

Before you know it, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, staring out the window at the scenery. Somehow, it pleased you to see that the nature of Liyue had been carefully preserved over the many centuries despite its development into the modern age. You get lost in picking apart the differences between then and now that you don’t notice how quiet you’ve fallen and Childe looks over worriedly when you show no reaction to your favorite songs playing on the stereo.

Even when he calls your name once, twice, nothing gives as you clearly have tuned everything out. So he leaves you be until there’s about half an hour left on the drive, unable to hold back and succumbing to reach over for your hand. You startle so strongly that he almost feels bad for having done it unannounced. But what’s even more disturbing is that this isn’t really the first time.

You’ve been talking to him less, often sitting quietly and staring off into another world that he can’t seem to reach. His texts are answered less frequently and with less wit and enthusiasm, so much so that he just appreciates you still show up to see him. Each time he asks if you’re okay, you always affirm that you are. He’s had a hard time believing you, but Childe believes you’ll tell him when you’re ready, surely.

It’s a little ironic yet fateful that Childe planned to bring you here, of all places. In the past, you had spent many days and nights running around in the sand with him, fighting slimes and hilichurls and collecting starconches for him. You remember laying on a large towel next to him as you both looked up into the sky, pointing out stars and constellations while sharing endless kisses away from prying, spying eyes.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve zoned out,” you sincerely apologize.

“It’s okay, I just wanna make sure you relax while we’re here. This is supposed to be a vacation.”

“You’re right,” you agree and squeeze his hand. “Let’s make the most of it before we become adults who are too busy to have fun like this again.”

And you do. Childe rented a small beach cabin (rich boys) closer to one end of the shoreline, just big enough with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchen with a dining table. You help him bring in your bags and some groceries bought the night before, setting them down quickly so you can peer out the window again to take in the view. Childe picked a good time, too. Although it’d be a little chilly at night, the day was still warm and mainly overcast with clouds.

“What do you say we change into our swimsuits and head down to the water?”

“Sure.”

Childe hadn’t really been expecting for you to step out in a large, casual tee and gym shorts, one shoulder exposed. He might have been hoping to see a little more skin, but his mother didn’t raise a chauvinistic pervert for a son.

The light in your eyes as you both approach the water is everything he had been missing the last few days, your excitement and joy contagious. As soon as you place everything down on the sand, you kick off your flip flops and leave him behind to step into the water, giggling at feeling the waves crash over your ankles and bring sand between your toes. Childe approaches you from behind and starts smearing sunblock on the back of your neck, to which you just grin beautifully at him in thanks and he has to fight off the desire to kiss you right then and there.

You’re too caught up in embracing the ocean afterwards to feel the shrinking distance between you two, mistaking his warmth for the general spring air. It isn’t until he’s done with your shoulders that he hands you the bottle to leave you to do the rest of your body, and when you turn to thank him, he’s much closer than you remember. His eyes are gentle, holding your gaze and almost daring you to look away first.

But if there’s one thing you can place without a shred of doubt, it is the unmistakable look of love, because you had seen it many, many times before without knowing until later what it meant.

How so incredibly lucky you were to have Childe back in your life now, loving you all the same, and with no life-threatening barriers. Fate or the Archons have given you a second chance, and you’d be damned to take it for granted.

Childe welcomes your lips against his, wasting no time to bring you into his arms so you’re pressed against him as much as possible. He can’t care for the overt public display of affection because this is everything he’s wanted for months now, waiting patiently for you to give him permission to make you his. Your lips are incredibly soft and pliant against his as you first kiss him patiently, then applying more force and desperation to taste more of him. He mirrors you, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other on your neck with a thumb extended to your jawline, teeth moving to nip at your bottom lip. It’s dangerous, the way you smile against his lips, and when he sinks his teeth in deeper before pulling back, your quiet mewl nearly drives him over the edge.

But you’re in public, and this was an amazing first kiss. You two have a beach to enjoy and a fun night planned, and now that he doesn’t have to hold back on his affections, it’ll be even better.

His lips part from yours regretfully, his eyes languidly opening to meet yours. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a blue starconch in the sand and freezes.

It’s not that he’s never seen one before, but something clicks. You. The shore. Starconches. Starry nights. His dreams. Monsters. Gods. Fighting. So much fighting. Training. His family. Dragons. You. Falling. You falling. You fighting him. Yelling. Kissing. Loving. Chasing. Him chasing you before you disappear at a teleport waypoint that somehow you only can operate. The abyss. Your twin.

Oh, Archons.

“ -ou okay, Ajax? Ajax?”

He snaps to look at you again. How does he go about this? How does he ask?

“(Y/n)...have you ever heard of the Fatui Harbingers?”

He has to admit that it’s a bit amazing to be able to identify all the emotions that cross your complexion, from curiosity to realization to conflicted. You’re actively trying to piece everything together without revealing too much on the off-chance that you’re wrong, that Childe hasn’t regained his memories and is just asking about something from class randomly and completely out of the blue.

Wait.

“You haven’t reached that material yet in class,” you whisper, heart in your throat at the realization. Could it really be…

“I was once Tartaglia, eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, who possessed a Delusion and used my Foul Legacy Transformation with you several times,” he murmurs back, tucking a stray tendril behind your ear. “Is it too late to apologize again for summoning an ancient god and letting you fall about five floors with no warning?”

He should’ve been prepared for you wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight embrace. “No, never, but I spent weeks after kicking your ass so you’ve been long forgiven.”

Childe burrows his face into your neck, breathing in your scent and basking in this moment. There was so much to talk about, but you two arguably had more time in the world than ever with nothing holding you back. There was no impending war looming over, no one on the run, no opposing forces. His silent wish for a different life with you seems to have been answered finally. If running into you had been the event to set everything in motion, he only wishes he’d done so earlier.

All that matters now is you’re here together in this plane of existence, given a chance to love again, and experience everything you couldn't before.

As written in the stars, take my soul for it is forever yours.

fin

#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #genshin imagines #childe #tartaglia #childe angst #genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #this fic maybe took two years off my life

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curmudggeon · 3 years ago

Text

Southern Hope (Arthur Morgan x Female Reader)

❝ If by any chance...in another lifetime, we happen to see each other again, I'll come and find you. And I'll make you fall in love with me, over and over again ❞

In which romance novelist, Mary-Beth under the pen name of Leslie Dupont, writes a coming of age love story based on her favourite gang members in the past, You and Arthur.

Trigger Warnings; Violence | Blood | Angst | Sexual Intentions

A/N: This is a project I've been working on for quite a while. I had the idea in mind when I had the chance to experience the musical composition of Aaron Copland's quintessential American Dream, 'Appalachian Spring' -one of my favourite pieces with such a beautiful storyline. And I wanted to retell it in the form of a book that is available on my Wattpad (ongoing) for you to enjoy from Mary-Beth's POV. I hope you show love to this book as much as I loved writing it. Have a sneak peek at the prologue!

Read on Wattpad here for more chapters to come!

PROLOGUE

Leslie Dupont; Mary-Beth Gaskill

Lemoyne, Saint Denis

November 1907

“Mademoiselle Dupont, we expect your next manuscript to be submitted by next summer. Now is not the time to be reminiscing.”

Here we go again

Mary-Beth sighed as her editor, Céline Laurent, had warned her once more for not meeting the deadline to her books. She was in a crucial position in her life. After her debut as a romance novelist, The Lady of The Manor was an instant best-seller across the country. It was the kind of thing she specializes in, silly ol’ romances.

“I promise you, I’ll get it done by then.” Or maybe, at least not for now. She shouldn't have promised something she couldn’t keep, especially in the meantime.

“I’ll take your word for that, if you don’t meet the deadline by then. Y’know what will happen to your contract, Leslie.” Céline stood at the door frame of Mary-Beth’s office with hands on her hips and raised eyebrows.

She knew exactly what she had meant. In fact, she knew the consequences on the back of her head when she first signed that contract with her publishing company. Two more books were requested of her. Or else she would be evicted of her apartment and be forced to live along the streets of Saint Denis for the rest of her life. A life of luxury slipping between her fingers.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mary-Beth disclaimed, the moment her editor slammed the door as she left her office. Heaving yet another exaggerated sigh, she crosses her arms on the grand rosewood desk, flopping her head on top of it. “What am I going to do now…” She murmured into the crevice of her arms.

Mary-Beth was in the middle of a major writer’s block for a few months now. She lost sight of that imaginative space of hers, consisting of the most swoon-worthy romances to the picture-perfect life she portrayed through her characters. A part of Mary-Beth that her readers absolutely adored. But, her head was now a clouded space of everlasting void. It was difficult for Mary-Beth to come into terms of writing again, but she couldn’t quite identify what had put her into this position.

Once she gathered the courage to write again, it all came crashing down like violent tidal waves when she came face to the daunting blank page of nothingness —almost drowning her.

It was as simple as that. Come to work, have a cup of tea, sit down, and a blank page.

Every. Damn. Time.

Maybe it was because she was already nearing her mid-thirties, and she hasn’t found someone to sweep her off her feet. Maybe it was when she first held Tilly’s baby that she found the need to be a mother someday. Maybe it was the overwhelming response towards her writing, she felt the need to hide away into an abyss. Or maybe she couldn’t stop thinking about the time she had come across John again after so many years that the memories just come flooding back.

Or maybe, just, maybe. It was because it’s November.

The most dreaded time of the year. November, in which the seemingly fearsome Van der Linde gang had officially broken up. Guns were fired, ties were broken and deaths were grieved. An unforgettable, painful memory.

She would often think about campfire songs, the girls and, Miss Grimshaw’s constant nagging about undone chores. Oh, how best of friends Céline and Miss Grimshaw would have been if she had heard Mary-Beth had been slacking again. It was her coping mechanism, think more about the good times to get rid of the bad ones.

Mary-Beth remembered when she took in her hands at being a matchmaker. Prancing around the camp, she would eye her two best contenders. You and Arthur.

She knew from the start when you had laid your eyes on each other for the first time, she could see through the inexplicable connection in between. You were both extremely awkward when it came to small-talk or addressing each other as you walked by across camp. However, it never stopped Arthur to come to camp as soon as he could just so he could see you, even just for a second.

The conversation would often start with Arthur while on his way to Dutch’s tent,

“Hey,”

“Hey.”

“I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Yea sure…”

—and that would be it.

At the same time, every single day, at the course of sunset.

You poor socially inept fools.

Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen would always see the interaction happen in the middle of their afternoon chores. Grinning from ear to ear. They would elbow each other whenever there was something different about the correspondence.

One time, you would walk past him, suddenly kissing him on the cheek and scurrying away.

Arthur would stop in his tracks, stunned, with a hand-over where your kiss tingled on his skin. Then he would look back at you as you laid down, smiling to yourself against a tree with a book in your hands. And Dutch would yell his name, knocking him out of his stupor before he noticed he was staring for a little too long.

The girls would start applauding for your heroic performance, it was like a groundbreaking plot twist Mary-Beth couldn’t wait to write about when the idea came into mind.

The both of you were like a walking excruciating slow, slow-burn romance novel. That was when Mary-Beth would cue in her entrance as matchmaker as soon as the interaction slowly died down. Your story had to have a happily ever after in her book.

She would pester you and Arthur separately, mentioning each other’s names and slipping in hints of romantic intentions from the other side so the both of you can address whatever this relationship was.

Mary-Beth knew it was a mission accomplished the night Sean was rescued back to Horseshoe Overlook. When she stood aside of the camp watching Dutch and Molly ballroom dancing into the moonlight, she caught a glimpse of you and Arthur behind them. Running into the woods, hand in hand, giggling to yourselves like prepubescent teenagers.

After that night, it was a considered job well done when your chance encounters slowly turned into planned ones. He would take you on dates, and you would show him affection like nobody’s business. A perfect couple, your American dream.

Until it became a nightmare.

And Arthur had passed,

your Arthur.

Ever since then, Mary-Beth wondered what had happened to you. Were you still alive after all these years? She couldn’t imagine how hard you must be coping with the news. Or what if you didn’t know at all? Even when she asked John and Tilly, they said you disappeared that night he passed.

Not even a single trace. Where were you?

Mary-Beth dismissed the thought out of her head, lifting her head away from the desk. She had to let go of these memories for her own well-being. For what seemed like yesterday were merely years ago. But it couldn’t have hurt to reminisce just a bit, for old times sake.

The story of You and Arthur was unwritten, left to collect dust from the lack of content. The perfect example of a sepia-tinted photograph, forgotten. Mary-Beth believed the both of you deserved something much more than a devastating ending. She wasn’t as ruthless as the other authors she had met that held an iron fist when killing off their characters. Mary-Beth wasn’t like that.

And the idea came to mind. She was a romance novelist for a reason; to fulfil all the possibilities for the unconditional love you shared.

And so Mary-Beth picked up her beautiful fountain pen,

She began to write on the great desk in her quiet room.

To write the most beautiful story of the century,

You and Arthur. Arthur and you.

A perfect couple. The American Dream.

A life that could have been so much more,

A life to remember…

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god1ngs · 4 years ago

Text

━‎ end of the world

synopsis; a forbidden love told for generations

contains; human reader, major character death, swearing, mentions of war, spoilers

god c!technoblade / reader, 3.4k wc

note; the title doesn't make much sense but whatever lol ,, this is for @mayasimagines 's 600 event! congratulations and i hope you like this :)

throughout the fall of countries, the crumbling of empires, there stood a man. he gazed upon the vast land, the grass stained red. buildings had crashed down, debris staining the area around them. they layed in heaps of piles, taller than most. the fallen down buildings had been a sign of the empire's loss.

there was no one alive to commemorate the loss however.

screaming rung inside of his head, shouting and yelling, with some other tones mixed in. displeased and ecstatic and mocking tones blended together, sounds of chaos lingering in the mind of the man. he only sighed, walking away from the destroyed country.

he's seen this happen too many times before, the repetitive cycle of watching a country build itself only to come crashing down years later. they never lasted long. always the one for chaos, he sometimes participated in the destruction of the countries, though most times he didn't need to.

humans were savage, brutal creatures who only cared about themselves. by studying their nature, the way they go about certain scenarios, he had figured out that much. selfish, twisted beings who would betray each other in a heartbeat. all it took was more wealth or a promise of better gear.

how easily swayed they were. technoblade sneered, his red cape dragging beneath him as he stalked the hallways. pillars of quartz, chipped at the edges from years of standing, lined the hallway. they reached the ceiling, some even going higher. the magnificent red carpet he stalked down had ended at a throne.

a throne made of gold, the shiniest material he could get his servants to find. emeralds and diamonds and rubies lined the top of it, the same jewels lining the gold of his crown. at last, he sat down, the voices calming down at the familiar seating area. they always got loud whenever there was destruction.

technoblade, the blood god. also known as the god of war and chaos to many, he wasn't very popular among the peaceful people. people often worshipped him for protection, to which he rarely granted. protection from him, a god of war, was seldom. often he didn't care about the hunans enough to waste his protection on them.

yet, one mortal, had caught his eye. they were nothing too special, middle class and usually someone technoblade wouldn't even spare a glance at. they were different though. they outshined any ray of sun, their smile proving to be the brighter of the two. he found them, despite all odds, very interesting.

later, after wine and more sparring, the man had caught wind of philza coming over. philza, the angel of death, had been one of technoblade's good allies, even so far as to consider the blond a friend. he brought saints to their knees in their final moments, allowing them either an eternity in hell or a peaceful life above.

he wanted to meet them, and technoblade always gets what he wants.

even before technoblade had become the god he is now, forever cursed to watch humanity rip itself apart, he knew philza. the two fought wars together, never straying from their path of loyalty. the blond perched himself on the windowsill, his striking white wings folding on his back, as he smiled at the other. "hello technoblade." he greeted, ever the polite man.

technoblade only scoffed, shaking his head with an amused grin. "please, phil," he drawled, looking from his red wine to the angel of death. "no need for the formalities. just call me techno." the blond threw his head back with a laugh, wide smile painting his features as the other chuckled. "of course, mate."

silence washed over the pair for a moment, a comforting silence that allowed them to bask in the moment od seeing each other. they didn't get to visit often, one thing they mutually hated about being in the sky palace, usually swamped with other duties. philza with guiding people to the afterlife, and technoblade with causing conflict.

"i actually wanted to talk about somethin' with ya, mate." phil broke the silence, hopping off of the marble windowsill to come lean against one of the pillars. the pink haired man, ever so interested, hummed questionably. "and what did you want to speak to me about? come on, spit it out." the man said, looking down at philza.

he sighed, glancing up at technoblade. "you've been acting off, mate. less wars are starting, and that's weird for you. i know you also started protecting that one mortal. fuck, what was their name?" he murmured, brows furrowed. technoblade sighed in annoyance, not wanting to be pestered with questions.

"[name]." he answered phil quietly, not bothering to look back at the blond man. the clouds danced with each other in the sky, entertwining and morphing with each other freely. sometimes he wishes he could be as free as the clouds. "you know," phil said, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes. the blood god could only dread what he was going to say. "rumor has it that gods only protect mortals they're interested in."

the teasing, despite only being light hearted, had a quizzical undertone. while technoblade had been acting strange, protecting somebody was something phil had never expected. either something was special about that mortal and their family, or someone had begun fantasizing. he could only hope it wasn't the latter.

with more conversation, technoblade denying any feelings blooming for a human, phil left to go do his job. he was alone with his thoughts, the voices making him tug at his own hair to keep them quiet. they craved the mortal, despite how much he willed himself to stay in his throne room, the man had to go see them.

it was a normal day for you. nothing was different, much less weird. it was only normal, a basket of bread in your hands as you walked home. you hummed as you stepped on the path, enjoying the peaceful walk back to your house. you were content with your life, having a few people and more deaths than you could count.

and see them he would.

you partially blamed philza, the angel of death, for the passing of your loved ones, but you also knew he wasn't the one to kill them. he simply took them to the afterlife, guiding them to where they would spend the rest of their days. the deaths in your family had piled up, mostly from war and some of falling ill.

you spent your days worshipping gods now. you were always the lonely type, choosing to stay by yourself rather than interact with others. you never minded the comforting embrace of being alone, the silence enveloping you at every given moment. it provided you with a sense of comfort you couldn't get anywhere else.

while you did worship other gods, you mostly worshipped technoblade. he was the primary god, you giving up all your offerings to him ─ ranging from bread to trinkets to gold galore. the tales of the blood god, always grand stories with daring adventures that had you on the edge of your seat, had always intrigued you.

your favorite, the one you read the most to the slim amount of people you did contact, was the tale of the butcher army. when he was human, a detail that many didn't know whether to believe or not, he blew up many countries. it hinted at the start of him being the god of war many years later. for punishment, the butcher army hunted him down.

they lied to the man, once they had captured him, in which they had prepared for his execution. some say he died that day, only to be revived due to the gods holy whim; others say he had never died, and broke out of the iron bars to kill the men who had hunted him down. learning about the magnificent god, a god you admired, had faced an army of four and won, allowed you to admire him even further.

once you got home, setting down your basket of bread, you had sighed. you always liked coming home, your safe space filling you with a joy like no other. the everlasting comfort of your home, a familiar place you longed to be at constantly, helped you feel safe. the comforting feeling of being home at last filled you at peace.

until it wasn't so peaceful anymore.

from your kitchen came a clanging noise. there were a few grunts followed afterwards, your eyes wide. fear flooded your system, nervousness coursing through your veins. you stayed silent, hoping you'd either been dreaming or had been imagining sounds. however, once a voice spoke, you knew that was not the case.

from your kitchen came, with his red cape dragging behind him, technoblade. you stammered, confusion replacing your previous nervousness. your grip came loose on the item you were holding, not being able to process what you were seeing. "well this is awkward." the god stated, putting your kitchen utensils he had just knocked down back on your counter.

if anything, this was awkward. very awkward. who expected a god to come through their kitchen window? "uh, do you," you stuttered, voice measily yet you still tried to fight it out. "do you mind telling me why you're here?" it was more than odd to see a god in your kitchen, the sight one hard to believe for even yourself.

technoblade had sighed, draping himself over your couch cushions as if he lived there. his arms, unlike your bare ones, spread across the back of your couch, the sight making you nearly sigh. "well, mortal, i had taken intrest in you." he answered bluntly, your mind still reeling from the fact that he was even here, but taking interest in you? no, this had to be some kind of joke.

the visible confusion highlighting your features made the god chuckle. it was amusing, seeing the looks on mortals' faces whenever something odd or unexplainable happened. "what's so confusing? i took interest in you, and so i came down here to see you." the blood god explained, shrugging his shoulders. the confusion you felt only worsened.

why was the question. why was a god in your house? why had he taken interest in you? you shook your head, suddenly feeling lightheaded. "sorry, i need to sit down." you muttered, trying to regain your footing. you sat down, going slowly as to not pass out in front of him. "so," you spoke up as soon as you had calmed down. "why have you taken interest in me?"

a cloud of silence loomed over the two of you, technoblade falling into his thoughts. why had he taken interest in you? there was no particular shining traits in you, even if he studied you as if you had carved out the world with your own hands; he watched you as if you had brung down a fantastic reign upon everybody.

"who knows?" he wondered aloud, a hum of amusement following his words. technoblade didn't know the reason for it, and despite itching with curiosity, he didn't bother trying to find out. he only let it be, coming to terms with the fact that you, a mortal, had piqued his interest. you kept him entertained, and that's all that mattered.

after the two of you talking more, you still trying to get over the shock that the blood god was in your home, you had to say that he was fairly a nice guy. maybe he was kinder than all of the other ones, however you've never crossed paths with a god either, so you couldn't tell. when technoblade had stood up, braided hair falling against your couch, you knew it was time for him to go.

he turned to look down on you, his towering figure highly intimidating. there was a reason he was feared across nations. he stared at you for a second, maybe deciding on what to say, though you couldn't tell with his blank expression. the man only sighed, wishing you a good day, and then turned to leave.

"you've got me interested, technoblade."

you only spoke to the god more after the first encounter. seconds turned into minutes and then minutes turned to hours. he was an interesting guy, choosing which emotion to show and when to show it. perhaps it came with being a god. as he came by more, each visit surprising you, you only talked to him more.

"as you've got me, [name]."

soon he started telling you stories. the butcher army, the l'manberg war, how he met philza. he told you great things of philza, the angel of death, so much so you nearly stopped disliking philza. you were always interested in his stories though, no matter how long or how action packed. each further lured you in to his grasp.

technoblade, however, had stopped visiting so often. with more conflict arising everyday, he didn't have as much time to visit you anymore ─ philza was starting to catch on as well. how he wasn't home as often or how he lied to philza each time he asked him where he was. he was getting suspicious, and wanted answers quickly.

philza confronted technoblade on this issue a while later. his wings puffed up confidently, he was so sure something was going on with his eldest friends, the edges torn at the seams. "technoblade." he addressed politely, standing in front of his throne once again, as he did not so long ago. he would get answers out of him.

technoblade only sighed, his cheek pressed against his closed fists as he stared at philza. "yes, philza?" he asked, voice heavy with exhaustion. the recent wars, as much as he loved the excitement and panic that came with it, have been too tiring for him. he also couldn't visit you that morning, only pissing him off more.

"have you been seeing the mortal you told me you had interest in?"

silence crashed over the room, violent in its malicious intent. phil's questioned nipped at the blood god, desperately pleading for an answer. philza sighed, one of disappointment and perhaps even anger. the silence was enough of an answer. "mate, are you kidding me?"

technoblade merely sighed, eyes narrowing at the blond. "you have no say on who i take interest in, phil. that is none of your concern." he dismissed the blond, turning back to look at the window. philza had no say in what technoblade done with his life, no matter how long the two have been friends.

"none of my concern? mate, they're a mortal and you're a god! hell, the blood god! for fucks sake, mate, you can't be seeing mortals!" philza snapped, brows furrowed and cheeks red from anger. the trouble a god could get in from seeing a mortal was irredeemable.

if technoblade got caught with the mortal, he would lose not only his titles, but his life. he would be executed.

technoblade merely scoffed however, rolling his eyes. "as if i'll get caught, philza. those laws are stupid anyways. what, are you going to tell on me?" he arched his brows at the angel of death, sneering at him. how dare he barge into his temple and then go off at him; a beloved friend of his.

however, the mortal was too intresting to not keep seeing. he may of even caught feelings. how laughable ─ the blood god, feared across empires, falling for a mere mortal. philza only sighed, rubbing his temples. he weighed his options: technoblade could continue seeing the mortal, get caught, and then both of them get in trouble.

or philza could tell the council. tell them of his affairs, tell them why he hasn't been here as often. once more, a vicious silence swept over them. only for a moment, for philza had declared:

"if you don't stop seeing this mortal, i'll have no choice but to stop it. don't make me do it, mate."

his evening visit was late that night. you had already prepared dinner, setting it up for when he was to arrive. from what he's told you, he hasn't had human food in a long time. he told you that gods didn't need to eat nor sleep. you had decided to make him food for when he comes, wanting him to have food even if he doesn't need it.

the gust of wind from deceiving angel wings swept across his face. messy hair cascaded over his face, and for once, the blood god had found a problem he didn't know he could solve.

ten minutes. twenty minutes. thirty minutes. you sighed at the mocking tick of the clock, each passing second being another sign that he wasn't going to come. perhaps he had better things to do. frowning, you began to gather the food up, knowing you wouldn't eat it all, before the familiar two knocks came at your door.

rushing over, once you had opened it, you were surprised to see something different than you were used to.

technoblade was there, but he looked different. more angry, perhaps even upset.

worried, you frowned at the god. "are you okay?" you asked, hoping the man was alright. the god only nodded, staring at the ground. he came back to you after a moment of silence, sighing. "yes, just got caught up in some things. nothing for you to be concerned of." he said, brushing you off before you could even speak.

when technoblade had gone back to his temple, rubbing his temples with a sigh, something unexpected had greeted him. there was philza, perched on the window with a firm look of coldness. "visiting the mortal again, were you, mate?" he asked once he had came into view. technoblade had half a mind to tell him to fuck off.

that night provided a great distraction from what would come the following days.

no words were spoken from technoblade afterwards. the betrayal of another friend, a promise to do something about his meetings, had wounded him. he didn't want to lose philza, but also had begun to realise something ─ he had caught feelings for the mortal.

for you, who had been the sunshine on his darkest days. call it a cliche, but technoblade truly didn't know happiness if you weren't by his side. having watched countless deaths and falls of kingdoms over the many, many years of being alive, the man had never found as great of a comfort than by your side. you were the sun to his moon, a forever shining force to his immortal darkness.

though the moon and sun are destined to never touch.

that night, philza had technoblade bring him to your house under promise of telling the council. they had shown up to your house late at night, when the world was asleep. it had been abrupt, the two males coming into your home. you were shaking, scared as to what this meant. the angel of death and the blood god inside your home could mean nothing good.

and you were right. that night, that forsaken night, technoblade had been cursed in front of your eyes. the wide eyed look on his face, the shock of what a former friend could do. you tried to reach out for him, but were stopped by philza. he permitted you to stay still, or else your blood would be on your walls.

"technoblade, the blood god and the god of war, i hereby sentence you to an eternity of reincarnation. as long as you are alive, your lover, [name] [last name], will be killed and reincarnated. only ever letting you get close enough to hardly touch them."

your words were caught in your throat, the cruel punishment knocking the wind out of you. philza's eyes shone, bright in an unholy way, rising up with his wings behind him. technoblade had felt the burning sensation of a marking, a forever sign of the curse, on the side of his neck. a flower had been burnt into the side of his neck, your favorite flower.

"i'm sorry, technoblade." were the last words you heard before a sword made of light had stabbed through your stomach.

the blood god had frantically scooped up your body in his arms, panicking for the first time since you've seen him. he tried to get you to say anything, although the words were too hard to say, no matter how hard you tried to get them out. he reassured you would be okay, despite knowing the inevitable would happen.

"you should've listened to him ... heh, you're a dumbass, you know that?"

you took your last breath seconds later.

#dream smp x reader #dream smp x you #dream smp x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyts x reader #technoblade x you #technoblade imagines #technoblade x reader #dream smp techno #technoblade x y/n #angst #c!technoblade x reader #( ♡ ) + bones writes #( ♡ ) + oneshots

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kass-storycorner · 3 years ago

Text

An unpleasant surprise

I should definitely do my coursework instead of writing this fic, however the idea just came into my head and I couldn’t focus until I wrote this down. Writing this took waaaay longer than I anticpiated and it was way more spontanious... so it’s not proof read or anything, still hope you’ll enjoy it.

The idea/prompt: character is secretly in love with you, but won’t tell you because you are already in a relationship with someone else. Character however finds out that your partner is cheating on you – this is how they would react/act upon finding it out

Word count: 3637 Words (I’m sorry)

Character: Kaeya x gn!reader (in this it’s still very platonic and one sided love) Genre: Angst (?), Hurt, Comfort, even a bit of humour but maybe not, idk haha

Content warnings: cheating, threats, mention of blood and a major injury, mentioning of Dilucs and Kaeyas past, but nothing to explicit (tried to avoid the major spoilers)

Format: The first part / backstory is written in bullet points, but at the end you’ll find a fic written in the normal text format

He just wanted to drown his sorrows in peace at the Angel’s Share, but no. He had to be witness to that disgusting display of infidelity of your (hopefully soon to be ex-) boyfriend

Kaeya has known you for several years now, both of you started around the same time in the Knights of Favonius. The early years of your training were some of the most fun times Kaeya had- thinking about it always made him smile. Both of you were known from the beginning as rule benders, mostly breakers, within the Knights and if it weren’t for the influence of Kaeyas adoptive family none of you both would’ve gotten that many chances to stay until each of you proved their own worth without familiar ties.

However, in the last few years you both grew a bit more distant. Kaeya blamed himself entirely for it, after Crepus death he knew he should not have any emotional ties to anyone in Mondstadt, at first he ruined the relationship with his brother by telling him the truth. He then just tried to avoid you more and more, which wasn’t easy, because after Diluc quit his position as a Cavalry Captain Kaeya rose up to his position – only to have you as his subordinate.

It was not until you were on a mission with Kaeya that went horribly wrong, that Kaeya realised his feelings for you never were platonic, he was in love with you since the early days of training.You are his first love.

That mission was more of a secretive one, a few months after Diluc had left Mond and Crepus died, and one of the first bigger outings Kaeya had to lead as a Cavalry Captain. And the first mission without his brother by his side. The dragon Ursa resurfaced and continued to cause harm to the people of Mond, so Grand Master Varka gave Kaeya the responsibility to find that Dragons lair.

Instead of finding the hiding spot of Ursa, Kaeyas troop stumbled into a hiding spot of the, at that point not known as, Abyss order. That was the last time Kaeya went into a mission without information he himself collected and checked, because looking back it was so obviously a trap. How did he not notice it back then?

The fight was brutal and exhausting – somehow it was a miracle that the only Knight dangerously wounded was you. At least that is what the other Knights who were on that mission too would say, thankful that the worst they had to suffer from back then were a few scars at most. Hearing anyone talk about it enraged Kaeya, though he would never show it. It was because you were the most skilled fighter in that troop, even without a Vision Kaeya was sure that at your peak back then you could’ve bested him even now. But because of one of his mistakes, he did not care to watch his own back, maybe because he knew you would protect him, it was you who was injured and not him.

In that moment, seeing you unconscious on the floor laying in your own blood because you protected him, Kaeya understood his feelings for you.

After bringing you back safely to Mondstadt, and you thankfully not dying because of the injuries, Kaeya became even more distant. At first he wished to be able to tell you his true feelings after you’ve woken up, but he just couldn’t. When the healers and doctors gave the news that the injury was so severe that you would never be able to fight again, or even walk down the streets of Mond without being in pain – Kaeya thought the guilt of keeping that secret from Diluc and Crepus for years was unbearable, but the guilt he felt from being responsible for this? It pained him even more.

You stayed in the Knights, taking over administrative tasks and helping every other department of the Knights in the best ways you possibly could.

What surprised Kaeya is that you were never bitter about it. You never said it was Kaeyas fault, even went out of your way to constantly reassure him after you got the news that he shouldn’t blame himself for it (until this day he refuses to listen to you). Your smile and laughter didn’t stop after it, which he never could understand.

How were you able to be so happy and kind when your dream of leading your own troop just – vanished. To travel around Teyvat, see the world. When you weren’t able to do the things, you loved on your own, like going to Windrise to pick some of your favourite flowers.

Somehow, Kaeya thought, it was because of that guy. He never liked your boyfriend to begin with, but Kaeya thought maybe it was his jealousy that clouded his judgement.

He came into your life shortly after the incident and Kaeya remembered the first time he saw you two together – holding hands, you looked so smitten and the way you laughed when he leaned down to whisper something into your ear. After seeing that Kaeya knew he could never have something like this in his life. Not if its not with you.

Kaeya didn’t spend much time with you outside of the Knights anymore, though he would always have a conversation with you when you came up to him or he had to visit your office. Whenever he saw you outside of the Knights, you were always with your boyfriend, sometimes stopping and having a quick chat with Kaeya. Sometimes he wished you would stop being so nice to him.

Now seeing that disgusting piece of shit of a boyfriend sit in the corner of the Angel’s Share, with his hands all over some young thing made Kaeyas blood boil.

How dared he, the man who should be so lucky to have you, have his eyes and hands on another woman.

Also it’s a good thing that Diluc is not at Angel’s Share today, he was also a close friend of you back in the day and even though the friendship with Diluc didn’t survive his three years absence, Diluc would definitely throw that bastard out

Kaeya was astounded by the audacity your boyfriend had. He never had a high opinion of him but seeing that man openly flirt and make out with a woman that was not you, so obvious for everyone to see… in a bar that was frequently visited by your colleagues and friends. If it weren’t for the fact that he was cheating on you Kaeya could maybe muster up some respect for a man who had so clearly a death wish. Eyeing him from the corner of his eye, Kaeya kept observing that situation. How the hands that always held yours in public were touching all over the body of that unknown woman. How the mouth that told you sweet nothings over and over, told you that he loved you, was occupied with kissing the neck of another woman. That whole display just filled Kaeya with disgust. The loud giggles of that woman in his lap filled the Tavern and that was the moment Kaeya decided he had enough. Calmy, he finished his drink, stood up from the bar and made his way over to the table. “You surely don’t mind if I join you two”, Kaeya said in a nonchalant manner, sitting down opposite to the couple. “Oh, Sir Kaeya!”, the young woman giggled, clearly intoxicated, and embarrassed by the way Kaeya eyed the two. Quickly they both shifted, so the woman sat now besides your boyfriend. The way the cheater looked at Kaeya, it was quite amusing. A mix of fear, shock and uneasiness filled the eyes of him. It filled Kaeya with a weird sense of pride, knowing that being caught by him was something that scared him. “Seemed like you two had quite some fun back here”, Kaeya smugly started his interrogation. It was not unusual for Kaeya to use the Angel’s Share as his interrogation room – the casual setting and the alcohol made it so much easier sometimes for people to spill all their secrets. Especially when Kaeya could just be so charming. What Kaeya interested the most was if this was the first offense of the cheater or if that behaviour was a more… regular occurrence. It was at least for him the first time he caught that man red handed. Getting some information out of the girl was quite easy, she was so eager to tell the Cavalry Captain all about the two. Though from what Kaeya gathered the whole thing between her and your boyfriend was quite fresh. “You two really seem like a fitting pair”, Kaeya replied after a long ramble of that woman on how she was just so in love with your boyfriend. His voice sweet and smooth as silk, not showing how the anger inside him grew. It was just not fair, not fair to you. “Hey,” Kaeya began and eyed the empty glasses on the table, looking then back at the woman. “How about another round of drinks, it’s on me. Would you be so kind and go to Charles and order a few?”, again his voice was charming as ever. “No, no, Sir Kaeya, that’s too kind, but another drink won’t be necessary. It is quite late; don’t you think flower? We should get going”, the cheater chimed in and Kaeya nearly lost his cool when he heard him call the woman ‘flower’. Whenever Kaeya met you and him on his patrols around Mondstadt he always heard him call you ‘flower’. Fucking bastard, is all Kaeya could think before the voice of the woman protested the cheaters concerns. “Nooo, just one more round. How can you turn down Sir Kaeya, love? Just one more, please”, she looked at him with pleading eyes and he just sighted. “Fine”, he said and with that the woman was on her way to the bar. Kaeya now hoped that Charles would keep her occupied long enough so he could find out everything he wants to know from that cheater. His eye shifted from the woman who made her way to the bar to your boyfriend who sat directly across Kaeya. Now completely alone and vulnerable, for his shield left his side. The tension in the air seemed to be unbearable, Kaeya could see how uncomfortable the silence and his curious glance made the cheater. But Kaeya knew – sometimes saying nothing says it all. Helplessly your boyfriend looked over to the bar only to see that the woman he was with was now totally engrossed in a conversation with Charles. After a few minutes, that might have felt like hours to that cheater, he broke the silence. “So,” he tried to start a conversation, clearly not knowing that he fell right into Kaeyas trap. “What gives us the honour to be invited by the Cavalry Captain?”. “Oh, I think you might be smart enough to come up with an answer yourself,” Kaeya replied, keeping up a smile. Though the look in Kaeyas eye was just as cold as the top of Dragonspine, causing the other man to shiver. “As much as it honours me that you think of me this highly, I sadly have no idea what would make the renowned Sir Kaeya sit down at my table tonight.” “Oh, so this is how you want have this conversation”, now his voice was just as cold as his look. “I don’t understand what you mean.” ‘Bullshit’, Kaeya thought. “I’ve been just curious about that woman that just sat so prominently on your lap earlier this evening, she seems to be not the same I saw you hold hands with earlier this day.” “As nice at it is that the Cavalry Captain seems concerned for me, it isn’t one of the Knights duties to pry into the lives of citizens, now, is it?” Oh, how confident the cheater now sounded, thinking he was winning that conversation. Kaeya couldn’t deny that the entire situation made him furious and that he handled it a bit differently than he usually would if he were to talk with drunk treasure hoarders. “Oh, we’re awfully bold now, are we? Believe me the Knights don’t care about your infidelity, though I guess a certain one might find it awfully interesting to know how you spend your nights.” There was a short moment of silences between the two men, the tension just rising. “Well, they wouldn’t believe you. But if you want to go and be a telltale go, I won’t stop you”, the man gave as an answer. His words did not fit his body language – bold words, but his body was tense and Kaeya could see the fear behind the eyes of the man. But it was not fear of losing you, no he seemed to be quite confident that this would not happen. Kaeya said nothing, he just looked at that man, piercing him with his ice cold look. “You see”, he continued, “I wouldn’t be sitting here in Angle’s Share with that lovely company if I thought they might believe the words of any low-rank Knight coming in their office, believing their lies. Quite sad what pranks some people want to play on them, don’t you think?” Slowly, but surely, Kaeya understood that this tonight was definitely not the first offense of that man. And he now understood why most of the Knights here tonight just looked away from the scene, not batting an eye at what was going on. Kaeya could kick himself in the ass, how did he not notice the behaviour of that rodent before him earlier? If he was so open about cheating on you that even most of the other Knights knew, how come that he did not? “And I think its just so sad, that one of the people they hold in such high regards would join in on those baseless accusations, don’t you think Sir Kaeya? I mean it would be so disappointing for them to find out that you tell them such a lie, only because you just don’t like me.” If Kaeya wasn’t a Knight, if he weren’t Kaeya right now, if he hadn’t to uphold a certain image… the floor of the Tavern would be painted with the blood of this absolute bastard. Oh, how Kaeya wished he could lose his cool. “If you say it like that, then I guess I won’t tell them a word,” Kaeya replied. “I’m glad you understand”, the cheater smiled, the fear in his eyes now subsided and he seemed to relax a bit. At that Kaeya just leaned forward, his look cold and his voice even colder. “You are telling them.” The man just scoffed, looking confused at Kaeya. “Why should I?” Kaeya now coming closer, his voice more threatening than before. “Do you really want to find out, if you don’t?”. Kaeya leaned back, smiling and at that moment the woman came back with the drinks. The face of the man was just pale as snow, the fear back in his eyes. “Oh, thank you dear”, Kaeya said when she places his drink before him, and he took a sip. If your boyfriend is smarter than he seemed to be after fooling around with that woman in public, it would do him good to do as Kaeya said.

Dealing with the pain in your leg was something you were used to now for a few years, but the pain in your heart today… you somehow would prefer a broken leg over your shattered heart. Your eyes were fixated on the documents before you, though trough the tears in your eyes you could barley make out what they said. What they were even for. How could you ignore it for so long, that he cheated. That he fooled around with any woman in Mondstadt willing to be with him. This sleezy asshole. The tears fell down on the paper, you couldn’t care right now what important piece of documents you ruined with your tears. How, how, how??? Why were you so stupid to believe him when he always said that all the people that came to you with their concerns must have been mistaken. Why did you believe him over and over again. You couldn’t stop thinking about how the first person coming to you was Outrider Amber, so nervous to even say anything. How you just laughed her worries away, saying she definitely was mistaken. How after Amber again and again told you how sure she was. Had you just listened to her. Then maybe you wouldn’t feel so humiliated. If you just hadn’t listened to that damn liar. In that moment you heard a knock on the door. Quickly you wiped your tears away with your sleeves, clearing your throat. “Come in,” you said, though you were shocked at how hoarse you sounded. Stepping into your office was Kaeya, but when he saw your red eyes and tear stained face, he quickly closed the door behind him. “Are you alright?”, he asked in such a soft and kind voice. Since you woke up in the infirmary all those years ago you hadn’t heard him talk in that voice. You couldn’t help it, it made you immediately tear up again. Throwing your head into your hands you just couldn’t stop the uncontrollably sobs that took over you. You didn’t even notice that Kaeya was kneeling beside your chair until he felt his hand on your back. “Hey,” you heard him say, again in this soft voice. “It’s alright, let it out.” And you did. For a while you just sat there, crying and sobbing until you ran empty. The whole time Kaeya was on your side, saying nothing. He was just there and somehow, even after you two grew apart in the past years, after all that happened – Crepus death, Dilucs disappearance and return, your injury. Even after all it did not feel awkward to just cry and look for comfort at his side. After all, you still were friends. Slowly you calmed down, looking up to him. “I was so stupid, Kaeya. So many people came to me, told me what they saw, who he was and I- I just ignored it. I ignored it all, my feelings and-“, you felt the lump in your throat, making you stop speaking. It was just too much. “You’re not stupid,” he said, taking you in his arms. It felt so good to just melt into the hug. Just trying to forget the pain for a few seconds, slipping back into the familiarity of Kaeya you haven’t felt in such a long time.

Kaeya on the other hand couldn’t stop asking himself if what he’s doing here was alright. Was it okay to comfort you, he asked. If he hadn’t basically threatened your, obviously now, ex-boyfriend last night to tell you the truth, he might have been met with your bright smile today and not that painful expression. But it was the right thing to do, you deserved to know. You deserved for that guy to tell you, although he should have told you the truth out of his own free will. Not because Kaeya got involved. “Thank you”, he heard you mumble into his chest. “For what?” he asked, both of you now parting from the hug. “For just… for being here. And for being a friend”, you answered, again wiping tears away. Kaeya couldn’t help himself and chuckled at that statement. A friend, yeah. That is what he was and what he must be fine with. However, he didn’t really expect you to view him as one, after all that happened and how much he tried to avoid you in the past. “Well, I have been an awful friend the last years, haven’t I?”. Your eyes shot up, looking directly into his eye. “No, what makes you think that?”. You genuinely looked surprised at his statement. “Well,” he gestured towards your leg. Before he could even say anything, he felt your hands cup his face and looking at him sternly. “Kaeya Alberich, how often do I have to tell you this. What happened to my leg is not your fault, please stop taking blame for it. It was my choice to join you on that mission.” For a short while you both just looked into each other’s eyes until Kaeya couldn’t stand it anymore, a sigh leaving him, and he looked away. “How come that I want to comfort you and you just end up telling me something I just can’t seem to learn.” He stood up and then he saw it. You smiled at him. A sad smile, but a smile, nonetheless. “One day you’ll hopefully learn it”, you said. “Now, to make up for this”, pointing at your leg, trying to joke, “and for threatening a Mondstadt citizen, I think you should get me something from Good Hunter.” Kaeya was surprised. How did you know? He couldn’t even ask you, you already gave him the answer to the question that was so clearly written all over his face. “He literally begged me, after telling me the truth and breaking up with me, that I made sure you wouldn’t hurt him.” Now Kaeya gave out a small laugh, partially because he felt a bit embarrassed by you knowing, but also the thought of that arrogant asshole being so afraid of him amused Kaeya. “And, what did you tell him”, he asked, now back with his more playful tone. “Mmmmmh, I told him I’ll think about it.”

#genshin impact fan fiction #genshin #genshin fan fiction #kaeya x reader #kaeya fanfiction #genshin angst #kaeya angst #genshin hurt #genshin comfort #how do you tag fan fiction help #reader insert #gender-neutral reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #angst #hurt #comfort #kaeya alberich

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sparkledfirecracker · 4 years ago

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Deeds For The Big Screen

I see writing as a form of creative artwork with everyone having its own liking or preference to it.

Do not interact if you are uncomfortable with any of the given warnings or if you are a minor.

Your media consumption is your own responsibility, proceed to read with care. Warnings have been up and mentioned, if I missed any please feel free to let me know.

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, explicit language, sexwork, porn industry, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, oral receiving (f), swearing

Rating: explicit

Pairing: Ari Levinson x Female Reader

Summary: You’re taking power into your hands when your actors don’t seem to do their job and are wasting expensive production time.

Word count: 3006

A/N: This might be a little rusty, I haven’t done this in a while, but some creators have inspired me to pick up writing again! Fairly new to Tumblr, despite having an account for years and having done zero with it. Apparently me dreaming about different story ideas has become a thing now. So bear with me here. As said; if I missed any warnings please feel free to let me know.

@punani ’s ‘The Fluffer’ was inspiration for the chosen work field. So thank you for writing that magnificent piece.

English is not my native language; my grammar mistakes are purely my own. Constructive criticism is allowed and appreciated, I won’t bite unless you’re being rude.

I do not consent to have my work copied, reposted or translated on any other platform. Reposts on any given platform have been reposted without my permission or consent. By reading this, you agree that you are at least 18 years old!!!

Please do feel free to comment, like or reblog.

ENJOY!!!

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Deeds For The Big Screen

Irritation bubbling underneath your annoyed expression, your lips tightly pressed together. Fingernails tapping aggressively on the armrests of your director’s chair. Your legs crossed, bouncing with frustration at the sight in front of you. It seemed liked the actors onsite were on a mission to make everyone’s life on set hell. Your hands grabbing the armrests your knuckles white from the intense grip of the edges of your chair.

You were a visionaire, adultery was your passion, you had been in the business for year before starting your own company. Focusing on the female friendlier porn demand had paid of well for you, your company was your pride and you thrived on the success. You ran a tight ship, time was money and currently both actors were wasting every second of it. The current creative project was not being envisioned at all. It had been meticulously drawn out on a storyboard, it seemed like everything that had been discussed and rehearsed was thrown out the window.

You let out an annoyed huff, it had been hours on end anything between action and cut. Your million-dollar superstar was propped on his elbows towering over the fragile body underneath him. His hips franticly pumping in and out of the actress underneath him, who was clawing her nails into his skin desperately. Was he really the problem or was it the useless woman caged underneath him. Her super loud moans that probably could be heard at the other side of the world and the quantity of clawing at his skin.

“CUT!!!” you yelled and everyone in the production stopped, heavy sighs heard across the studio. Your hands rubbed your face slightly not wanting to yell or lose control of the raging thoughts running through your mind.

“What’s wrong this time?” your most prized possession asked, the annoyance clearly dripping of his tone. He stood up facing you, his hands falling to his hips, sticking out his chest while his thick muscle stood proud against his pelvis. You couldn’t help but take in the sight, his cock was red and he was painfully hard. You licked your lips and took in a deep breath, trying to refocus on your thoughts.

“Alright let me make myself very clear here. The crew is TIRED and I am tired of fucking repeating myself” you took another deep breath as you felt anger rising “was I not clear enough when we had a table read yesterday and when we rehearsed this morning?” your eyes switching between the actors. No response “An answer would be nice, because that storyboard on the wall contains every movement of where body parts go during every fucking scene”

“Get the fuck out Y/N, you know storyboards only contains the major outlines of a grand story being told, it is different when you are pumping in and out of a body you know. You don’t always get to choose where a hand, leg or cock lands”

“Ari, we are in the god forsaken porn industry, that thick throbbing dick better end up in the fucking dripping vagina, between her lips or even in that nice and tight puckered hole” you could hear a few supressed snickers from the crew. Ari just kept staring you down “Right now all I see is stiffness, no passion, no fire and absolutely nothing that was on the fucking board or script”

“Whatever Y/N” Ari huffed, you rolled your eyes breaking the tension that was clearly building between you and Ari. You turned your gaze to Edie, who just sat there uncomfortably.

“Edie, can you just tone down on the moans, I know this is your first gig and a step up from the amateur adultery films you have done, but we are not in the cheap kind of porn. This is exclusive, sensual and soft sex. We make porn for the ladies and if it happens that men love it too so be it-” you clapped your hands together trying to get through to the actors in front of you “Also ease up on your facial expressions too they are just too much and stop clawing at Ari, we are not feral wolves in the outskirts of woodsy valley…” you pointed at her, the hostility evident in your voice, she just nodded your way she almost looked too scared to speak. Your attention turned to Ari, just by looking at him you knew he wouldn’t be able to take a lot more of your antics “-And for you mister, I need more open posture. We want to see those muscles work underneath that toned skin of yours. Flex them a little, you want the person watching this to drool from their mouths while their vaginas or arseholes are begging for your majestic cock. Yes, we can do this all rough and tough, but with this project we want fire, passion and mind-blowing sex. Understood?”

Both pornstars nodded your way and you sat back down in your chair. The actors taking their spots again, you raised your hand, cues being called across the room.

“ACTION!” Edie tried her utter best to contain her excessive sounds, but she looked like she was about to take a dump “CUT!”

“Y/N, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Ari yelled, jumping of the small platform, grabbing his robe from the floor, storming your way while putting on his robe, you got off your chair.

“Is it really that hard to do what I am asking? Edie you look like you are about to take a dump right in front of the camera” you lost control of the anger that had been boiling inside of you. Ari bumped into you, almost knocking you down, it must have been on purpose as you could sense his anger “where the fuck do you think you are going?” he spun on his heels

“I have been edged for hours on end, I need some form of release and it looks like our director is not going to let us get any release for a few more hours” Ari spat your way

“GET BACK HERE!!” you definitely lost control, watching Ari on a mission to march out of the studio “ARI I SAID GET BACK HERE”

“I AM NOT YOUR FUCKING A DOG!!!”

“YOU ARE MY FUCKING TOP DOLLAR DOG, SO YOU BETTER GET THE FUCK BACK BEFORE I FIRE YOU MYSELF” it was true, Ari was your million-dollar star, your company couldn’t have grown without him. He had been there from the beginning, you had him to thank for the success of your company and in return he had you to thank for his stardom.

Your words had made Ari stop in his tracks and turn around, the temperature in the room increasing quickly. You had started to doubt if the room had been that hot the entire time or if it was the arousal creeping through your veins caused by Ari’s deep angered gaze.

He charged your way his finger pointing at you and his mouth was moving, but your hearing seemed to have vanished. You contemplated if you should just show them what you meant or just call it a day. Things were getting heated and the crew was already exhausted enough. Your thoughts interrupted as your mouth started to speak.

“Do I really have to do everything around here?” you muttered under your breath “Edie get off the sunbed and put your robe on” she complied to your order, getting of the stage and putting on her silk robe. You took a moment to analyse your thought, to see if the voice inside your head would protest of what you were contemplating. Nothing came to mind, so instead you unbuttoned your sundress quickly before regretting your decision “Last attempt to film this guys, start rolling. Ari off with the robe, we start from the beginning. Edie take notes” you ordered around the room. Your sundress and underwear falling off your frame piling up next to your director’s chair.

“What are you doing baby girl?” Ari whispered in your ear as you walked backwards his hands holding your hips guiding you towards the double sunbed. His anger seemed to have disappeared and replaced with intrigue.

“Showing you what I want, but mostly taking what I need right now” you replied, he quirked an eyebrow, a smirk plastered on his face in approval “Let’s give them the show they want”

“The show you want” Ari chuckled as he corrected you, before narrowing his eyes a little “The big boss in action, I like it…” Ari whispered as he took in your naked body “I like it a lit” His confident spoken words made you a little insecure, but you hid it well trying to hold your nerves together.

You climbed on the sunbed laying back, your eyes wandered over Ari’s toned chest, his cock aching, your pussy throbbing. You licked your lips and the muscles in your core tightened with the exciting thought of him filling you up to the brim in a matter of minutes, you being at his complete mercy.

“ACTION!” you yelled

Ari crawled on top of you, your hands roamed freely over his arms and chest, his lips crashing on yours briefly before moving on to your neck and your upper torso. Your hands finding their way onto his shoulders, caressing the bare skin. You arched your back at the delight feeling when he sucked on your nipples, a low moan left your lips. Ari’s hands cradling your frame as he peppered kisses further south.

Your eyes following him, he looked back at you through his long lashes as two of his fingers tease your entrance, running gently through your folds. One thing was for sure, you were hot and bothered, all because of the eye candy encaging you in his porn play. He dipped two fingers in your aching core and pumped three times before they stilled inside you. His face coming up to meet yours, his eyes darkened and stole another passionate driven kiss.

His fingers starting pumping you faster earning a few unexpected deep moans. Your lips parting, your lust blown eyes were completely taken by the current moment. Your mind completely forgetting everything was being recorded. Ari’s fingers left your soaking cunt as he lowered his head and settled himself between your legs.

His mouth sucked your clit, you took in a sharp breath. His tongue firmly stroked downward on your slit, enough pressure for a controlled yet obscene moan to escape you. His tongue entered your dripping hole before returning his attention back to your clit. Ari’s fingers rejected as your vaginal muscle had tightened from the attention your clit was receiving. His mouth eased off and he pushed his fingers inside you, your cunt accepting, sucking them in.

The pleasure was almost too much, your hands caressing your upper body finding your breasts. With a feathered touch you rubbed your index fingers over your nipples, biting your bottom lip at the pleasure. Your touch made your nipples erect, the sensation spreading like wildfire through your entire body. Ari increased his pace and your moans and whimpers became more frequent, but in a more wanting and loving way.

Your back started to arch up and you were about to cum, when Ari stopped all his actions. Your eyes shot fully open to protest, but he shushed you by placing two of his fingers in your mouth allowing you a moment to taste yourself before retracting them. You watched him pump his hard cock with his hand, before he gripped your hips as his member slowly pushes down in your sopping cunt.

“Big enough for you princess” Ari grunted as he pushed fully into you.

“Y-Yes” the response was short and simple, your brain not functioning anymore when the pleasure had taken over from the thoughts. His tempo made your eyes roll backwards, your hips meeting his rhythm as he held a firm grasp on your hips helping and guiding you up and down on him. Without warning Ari stopped and flipped you over. A fistful of hair grabbed pulling you back, his grasp wasn’t harsh and only intensified your lustful awakening.

His left arm snaking around your waist finding your right boob, giving it a sinful squeeze, pinching your nipple between his fingers. He held your back close to his chest while his lips sucked pleasure marks on your neck and breathing heavily into your ear, whispering nothing but obscenities to you. Your arms lifted up and your hands fisted his hair, your fingernails scraping his scalp a little. He growled in your ear, you repeated your actions and he gave your hip a single firm squeeze.

His cock slowly being dragged in and out of you, your walls coating his thick veined cock. The squelching noises pulled from the juices being pulled from between your legs. Ari’s hands running freely over your skin setting it on fire. You felt fucked out and your orgasm was building rapidly.

Ari must have felt it as his hips started bucking up into you even faster, making is his mission to finish you. Your moans of sin becoming frequent again, Ari’s wandering hand slid in between your folds, rubbing your clit gently, pushing you even closer to the edge. One of your hands held onto his wrist holding it in the pleasurable place whilst the other placed on the nape of his neck, fingers gripping the hairs at the bottom.

Your orgasm washed over you as Ari let you ride out your high before pulling you off, laying you flat on the double sunbed. As you tried to calm your breathing he straddled you underneath him, pumping his member faster. The white strings of sin faltering out of his cock, you leaned up on your elbows and opened your mouth while he decorated your face and chest.

Licking your lips with his salty cum, you swallowed and stared back at Ari who seemed to enjoy the fucked out sight in front of him. When he had finished squirting his load on you, he cradled your head in his large hands, his thumbs running over your lips before leaning in to steal one last fiery kiss. You separated from the kiss and kept staring each other in the eyes for what felt like hours.

“Happy boss?” Ari questioned still holding your head gently as you nodded your head

“CUT!” you yelled, Ari climbed off of you and helped you up.

“WOW, that was amazing” Edie clapped being stunned by the scene that just had taken place.

“Thanks, hopefully a great lesson for you on what to do next time” you spoke, she smiled widely back at you when you walked towards your chair, picking up your clothes from the floor “Well done everyone, I think we all need a break and we’ll continue with fresh eyes tomorrow” a relieved cheer was heard “I’m off to have a shower, since I have become a Picasso art piece” you started walking towards the dressing room

“Worth millions” Ari spoke after you, you raised your middle finger at him without looking back at him. His loud laughter filled the room.

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You walked out of the building, rolling your eyes at Ari as he leaned against your car, one leg propped up on the tire, his arms folded and a cocky grin beaming back at you.

“There she is, my million dollar star” Ari clapped his hands before raising up his arms slightly and bowing down “I bless the ground you walk on peaches”

“Oh shut it Ari” you felt your cheeks burn, embarrassment bubbling underneath your skin. It was ridiculous, but you felt a little insecure “Hopefully good enough for what I want to get done” you continued walking towards the car, halting in front of Ari.

“Hopefully?” Ari raised an eyebrow “Peaches you were wonderful, you are in my top 3 ‘the best fucking sex I ever had’ so I guess for a retired pornstar you still possess your magic” you shoved him a little and his head fell back letting out a laugh “Don’t be embarrassed, I liked it a lot” his hands found their way on your waist pulling you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you Ari, but can you move out of the way, I want to go home, I am little worn out” “Must be because of my majestic cock” he laughed

“Don’t flatter yourself, it doesn’t suit you” you giggled “Why are you still here, I thought you left a while ago”

“Couldn’t stay away from you peaches, since you performed so well today” Ari wiggled his eyebrows

“Had to show you guys somehow, you were costing me a fortune” you pointed out, opening the car door, tossing your bag on the backseat.

“Would it make a difference if it was done on purpose?” Ari questioned, climbing into the driver’s seat. Your mouth had fallen open from the shock and your brain scrambled for words and phrases to throw Ari’s way. You opened the door on the passenger’s side and got into the seat.

“Are you telling me you put on an entire show so you could get your dick wet on the clock?”

“Had to fuck the brat right out of you somehow” his cocky grin beamed back at you. You knew he was taunting you if it wasn’t for his sunglasses shielding his eyes “You have always been such a perfectionist, so I knew you would fall for my well thought out trap”

“Well next time ask me to eat a snickers instead” you rolled your eyes as Ari started the car.

“Might need another round of fucking the brat out of you peaches” Ari grabbed your hand, pulling the intertwined hold to his lips and placing a kiss on top. Your cheeks flushed with heat at the thought of how intense your fuck session had been and what kind of ways you both would fuck one another later.

YIKES, that was a true adventure!!!

#ari levinson #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson smut #ari levinson fic #chris evans smut

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syndxlla · 4 years ago

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Part ten of the More To Love Series

Summary: The ball is tomorrow night and preparations are in full swing in the Mandalorian Palace. In desperate need of a break from all of the Masquerade planning, you get away from the palace for a few hours. This gives you a chance to reflect on your relationship with the Knight, learn more about his past, and grow closer with Koska.

Word Count: 10.9k, NO ‘Y/N’

Warnings: SMUT (handjob, grinding, this is like actually sort of gross if you over think it so just don’t over think it thanks <3), THIS IS EXPLICIT, 18+ CONTENT, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. Swearing. Mentions of: blood, scars, fighting, hand-to hand combat.

IMPORTANT PLEASE READ: insight of recent events surrounding my tumblr, I have added an additional in-text warning for the smut scenes. This will continue for future chapters for those who do not wish to read the explicit scenes of More to Love.

Author’s Note: HEY, it’s been a little while, huh? Happy to be back. THANK YOU FOR 1k FOLLOWERS HOLY CRAP!! You all mean so much to me and the support of this fic is unlike anything I could have ever asked for! Also... the smut in this gets,, nasty. Like not that bad it isn’t super kinky or needs lots of warnings it’s just... like gross if you think too hard about that so do me a favor and don’t overthink it haha. OKAY LOVE YOU ENJOY

Part Nine

“No, If you keep that elbow down it will throw off your balance.”

“Okay, what if I hold it like this.”

“No it will get more tired faster.”

“Well how long do I have to keep it up like this?”

“Until the song ends!” You sigh, your fingers coming up to hold your eyebrow out of frustration. You and the Knight have been in the library for nearly an hour trying to learn how to waltz together and if you didn’t know any better, you’d guess he had two left feet. He was starting to get the hang of it, though. Slowly but surely and through a lot of trial and error but you don’t have very much room to talk because an hour before this one, he was just as frustrated with you because you couldn’t swing at him with nearly enough power needed to make some damage on anyone. This is how you’ve spent your last two evenings with the knight. The two of you sarcastically bullying one another in learning the opposite’s art. It was already Friday, the ball was tomorrow and you weren’t sure if he was going to be able to pull it together in time. The worst part is that you haven’t had anytime privately with him to do your... usual antics. There was always someone with you, usually Korkie or Koska, or the dance and fighting practice took up too much time to really have any fun.

The palace has been bustling the last two days. Every servant has had a task they were always doing, there was no down time for them which meant lots of downtime for the Royals. If there was no one to set up tea, then there would be no tea, simple as that.

Because of the high workload put on the staff of the palace, each royal has been subject to dinner in their own rooms alone this week, which was a dream come true for you. Dinner was your least favorite time of the day because of how painful it was to get through socially. And it also meant you got to spend more time with your own thoughts. You still aren’t sure what to do about the marriage, especially since you’ve admitted to yourself that you think you are falling for the beskar-clad knight who stands watch outside your door.

Even Soniee has been spending less time inside your quarters pampering you (you could really use a bubble bath). At all hours of the day, there was either a team of butlers carrying large bouquets of flowers down ornate hallways, a chef interrupting your dress fitting with Soniee and Koska to have you try another flower-flavored mousse, or an immediate meeting with the Queen to learn about some of your guests who will be at the masquerade and how to properly greet them. One time yesterday, you were asked to review the lanterns they picked out for the garden decorations. You were so indifferent to the ones they picked that the servants actually sent you back inside out of frustration. Along with the controlled chaos of preparations, the mask making has still left you feeling guilty. Just this morning you caught a glimpse of Koska’s shaky hands that had clearly been pricked by one too many needles while sewing jewels into the Queen’s mask. You must have apologized too much because she eventually got snarky and asked you to quit saying sorry about it. As much as you would like to dance with your knight with others looking on, you weren’t sure if it was worth all the pain and labor others were putting themselves through for it.

Party planning was exhausting, and on top of all of it, you needed to teach the most uncoordinated man in the kingdom how to waltz. It genuinely baffled you how he was able to be so methodical and perfect in hand-to hand combat and in bed but can barely hold his own in situations such as these. There was something charming about that flaw, however.

Now, the golden sunlight of the aging day was pouring into the towering windows of the Mandalorian library. It had made the room warm, and showed just how valuable the knight’s dark skin was as his bare hands soaked in the rays. You caught yourself staring at them a few too many times, which to your dismay, he caught you doing.

“You’re staring again.” He says while the two of you are practicing the basic 1, 2, 3 waltz step. Your eyes jump back to the emotionless visor of the beskar helmet which looked down at your face. You didn’t even realize you were looking at your hand holding out to the right, studying the way his knuckles looked and how clean his fingernails were.

“Sorry… It’s just that dancing is usually an emotional thing, you’re supposed to play off of eachother I suppose.” You shrug, stopping the dance. You realized you had been searching for something to play off of, anything, even if it’s just the calloused fingers of a hard worker.

You wouldn’t think the two of you would be so far behind and underprepared but for a majority of these rehearsals you’ve been the one leading as he figures it out. You know how bad it would look if you were the one leading tomorrow, and you’re starting to lose hope that you’re going to pull this off. You had wished you started teaching him earlier, but knew that he would have never agreed before now.

“Princess, you do realize that you’re probably still not going to see my face if we dance tomorrow.” He drops your hands. You sigh, you did know it, you just didn’t want to admit it.

“I know… when do you take it off?” You couldn’t remember if you had asked this already. Maybe you were out of line for asking, but a piece of you didn’t care, you deserved to know.

He was quiet, he always was when you asked him something personal. Maybe he was hoping you would get the idea by now…

“When I eat, when I sleep… sometimes around my son. Sometimes around other guards.” He said as he walked towards one of the library windows. You followed him, a few footsteps behind. He stopped at the glass, his reflection disturbing the pristine scene outside. You could see the beach from this window, not as well as in other parts of the castle, but the horizon of the Mandalorian sea was still in view. Your reflection came up behind his. You could see the exhale of his lungs from the shift in armor weight.

“I understand if you never want to show me.” You said. You didn’t really believe that, but you did respect him, and because of that you had to accept the reality that he may never show you. Maybe you were just trying to convince yourself that. You walk a little further to him and stand up on your tippy-toes so that you may rest your chin on his shoulder, looking out at the world below. It was so peaceful from up here. You’ve only left palace grounds once in the last two weeks and you desperately want to again. Being cooped up inside an oil painting was getting exhausting. “I want to go somewhere.” You mutter, your arms wrapping around his waist to hug him from behind: a pure and innocent act of affection.

“What?” His helmet turns to the side just a little bit so that you might hear him better. “Like… the Garden? The Parlor?”

“No!” You chuckle against his pauldron, “Outside, I want to get out of the palace again.”

“Did you forget what happened last time we went out?” He asks meditatively. “We can’t risk anything happening to you before tomorrow, The Queen would be furious, and even worse, Koska would be too.”

“Of course I didn’t forget! I’ll have the scar to always remind me” You giggle at his remark. “And besides, I-I want to go to the water.” You step out from behind him to look out at and gesture to the gentle waves against the golden beach. “I’ve been on a sandy beach before.” You clear your throat.

“We… might be able to arrange that. How about we go on Sunday? After the ball?” He attempts to negotiate.

“Or we could go now? There’s no formal dinner tonight.” You suggest.

“Your parents are coming in tonight, along with a number of other guests, not to mention Grand General Vizsla, all the Royal Guard is to be presented to him at nine.” He groans, but you were determined to convince him. You really needed a break from all of the planning, fittings and tastings.

“So? It’s barely five! We can just go for a little while!” You say as you look at the grandfather clock that sits nestled between two bookcases. You weren't feeling very optimistic, you doubted he would not budge, he’s always been so stubborn. “I can repay you…” You bite your lip. You were also incredibly horny and remember overhearing a maid back home talk about sex on the beach. It had always excited you.

He sighs again.

“Please? For me? I seriously deserve a break, so do you.” You reach out to stroke his hand. You knew that would probably work, it has before.

“Fine-“

“Really!?”

“Yes, but we have to tell Koska just so they don’t think we’re missing again.” He turns to walk out of the library. You silently congratulate yourself on getting the most unmovable and obedient man in the galaxy to go against his orders and do what you want. You happily skip behind him. “It takes a while to get all the way down to the beach so we should probably take a horse.” He says on the move. “Do you know how to ride?”

“I’m royalty, of course I do… do you?” You revising a teasing eyebrow.

He scoffs at your question, “There is much you do not know about me.”

“Well, you make it sort of hard for me to learn.” You roll your eyes playfully. He elbows you in the side, knocking you off your balance. You attempt to do the same to him, nudging him right back but not even getting the boy to budge and hurting your funny bone a little against the Beskar.

It takes you two a few minutes of complete silence and portrait-perfect stature to get all the way down the palace into the servants quarters. The only other time you had been in these narrow, stone hallways in the ground level of the Mandalorian Castle was earlier this week after Korkie begrudgingly led you back to your quarters in a wet peasant gown and a stinging bicep.

By the time the knight and yourself had made it down here, he was leading you through the maze of corridors, past helmetless knights who all nodded out of respect as they passed you, and into a wooden-arch. The room you had entered into must have been the servant’s common room, because it was about the size of the dining room. A candle-lit, wooden chandelier hung over four long tables, unlike the glass and oil-lamp chandeliers in the rest of the palace. A large fireplace burned on one wall, illuminating the room more and several small, gothic-arch windows towards the ceiling allowed warm light to pour into the cozy hall. Several handmaidens bejeweled masks at one table, twice as many sewed the bases of the coverings at another. One table showcased all of the finished designs, which depicted extravagant bird beaks, colorful fox and wolf snouts, towering cat and rabbit ears, ornate peacock tails, sharp antlers and horns on some and even incredible tusks on a few. They were all breathtaking, and while you felt guilty for making so many staff members work double-time, you appreciated their handy-work in making your dream come true.

The fourth and final table was mostly empty, a few elderly and child servants ate potato soup at it, and one maid cleaned her finger-nails at the opposite end. Everything was so simple and normal, it was such a display of controlled chaos that almost made you forget about the corruption in Mandalore… almost.

A sharp whistle rang through the room, and immediately, everyone dropped what they were doing, stood up swiftly from their seats on the long benches that paralleled each table, and turned to look at you before bowing deeply and diligently. They hadn’t even noticed you were there at first and interrupting their normalcy was not what you intended to do, but then you caught sight of who it was that sang the whistle. Koska Reeves was walking through the bowed, silent heads to you and the Knight. She looked exhausted, her hair was down and over her shoulders instead of pinned up in the intricate braids she usually wore them in when she was around royalty. The amount of fly-always was distracting but you couldn’t blame her, she would not disappoint the Queen with her work, even if that meant looking a little rough and disheveled.

“What’s the meaning of this? All royalty is supposed to be approved before coming in here.” She says to your knight chivalrously, then turns to you, “This is no sight for you, princess.” Something told you that she wasn’t only referring to the activities taking place in the common room. “I am sorry for our disorder.”

“No worries, Lady Reeves. There’s no need to apologize. I am most impressed by the work done on the masks for tomorrow.” You gesture to the table with the completed designs.

She sighs and smiles, “Thank you.” She nods before turning around, “Carry On!” She calls out to the room and everyone returns to normal as if nothing out of the ordinary happened, as if you weren’t even there. There was something you liked about that, something that reminded you that even though you have a lucky bloodline, you’re human too, and not all that different from the workers in this very room. Their daily routine was fascinating to you. “What do you two want?” She hushes her voice and drops her “right-hand woman to the queen”, first lady-in-waiting and head of the Mandalorian royal staff persona. She’s now the same brash friend you two shared.

“We want to go out for a while, it’ll just be a few hours but we knew we needed to tell someone in case anyone notices that we’re missing.” The Knight nods, explaining the situation. She raises a questionable eyebrow.

“Absolutely not, we cannot risk anything happening to her before tomorrow night.” Your heart drops.

“That’s what I said, but she’s incredibly convincing.” He shrugs, tilting his head just enough to show the extra bit of emotion. Koska looks between the two of you, her hands perched firmly on her hips. You caught sight of her hands again, which were now bandaged tightly with the same white gauze that she wrapped your cut arm with earlier this week. You wondered if that was done to dress bleeding wounds, keep the shakiness from over-working and late nights in control, or a dreadful mix of both. A terrible feeling told you it was the third.

“Vizsla is going to be here.” She raises an eyebrow, her intimidating demeanor hasn’t gone away even after she’s become aware of your little secret (well, actually massive, life-altering, “how-the-hell-am-I-gonna-fix-this?” secret). “If you aren’t here, that could result in a court-martial from the Queen herself.”

“Sounds tempting.” He replies.

“You and I both know what’s going to happen to you and your little boy if you step out of line, even once, which is why I’m guarding your scandle so close to my heart.” Her voice get’s real quiet when she says that, and he shifts his weight. Your heart drops, what in the world could she mean by that? “You know what could happen to you if I accidentally slip something, that’s why I won’t cover for you.”

“What the hell does that mean?” You whisper. She glances at you and then right back to him.

“Wow, you really haven’t told her much, have you?” Koska’s arms move from her hips into a fold over her chest. He doesn’t respond.

“Told me much about what?” You ask, worried about whatever was going on that you didn’t know about. Every day you’re reminded about how much of a stranger he really is to you.

“All she knows is that I had an old job, that’s all she needs to know.” He bites back, his voice equally hushed.

“If you’re fucking her, she deserves to know a lot more, but that’s just my opinion.” Koska chuckles once and you blush red hot. “I mean, at least tell her your name.”

“Why is this happening here? Now?” He gestures to the very crowded room. “Look, we just want to go down to the beach for an hour at the most. We’ll be back long before Vizsla gets here. You won’t have to cover for us, I swear.” He tries changing the subject but your mind is racing with the possibilities and confusion of the conversation you were just welcomed into.

Koska looks between the two of you a few times again, carefully considering what’s on the table and the risk. “Fine, one horse. I mean it, only one because if two are gone, someone will notice and then I’m gonna have to do exactly what I told you I wouldn’t do and what you said I won't have to: cover for your ass. Get out of here.” She beckons her head to a door that leads outside as a smile spreads across your cheeks. “Djarin! Don’t be late!” She calls out as you begin walking. That’s the second time you have heard that word, both times uttered from Koska’s mouth. Something wanted you to believe that might be his name but you were far too scared to find out for your own. You would try to remember it this time.

The knight leads you out of the room, and you watch Koska over your shoulder as you follow, studying the way she stood still immediately after you walk away, taking a few deep, sharp breaths and then promptly returning to her work. You wondered if she was tired, remembering that not everyone who lives in the Mandalorian Palace has the same relaxing lifestyle that you have.

Despite the aging daylight, it was still deathly hot. The heat of summer bled onto your shoulders, which were still partially covered due to the scarring cut in your muscle. The clothing only added to the heat. The part of the Castle grounds you were were foreign to you. They weren’t the beautiful, lush and trimmed gardens or breezy courtyards you usually spend your afternoons in, no. It was dark, the tall height of the palace shading the courtyard where knights sparred and a pair of little servant girls chased one another. One wall that lined the courtyard was the horse stables, and another was a blacksmith. The golden light shone through the stables, and you were able to spot the four white horses that took you and Korkie to Keldabe earlier this week despite the beasts being backlit.

“You can ride, I’ll just walk.” He says as he guides you to a palomino, a tall horse with a Caramel body and pure white mane.

“Are you sure?” You ask, not wanting him to have to walk.

“Of course.” He says as he mindlessly bridles the horse, petting him on the nose a few times. “Do you prefer a saddle?” He asks. You nod, and he swings the seat over the back of the steed.

“Does this horse have a name?” You ask, reaching your hand out to pet his neck a few times. The horse nickers at your touch.

“He likes you.” The Knight chuckles. You smile at the statement, and continue to stroke the soft hair on the neck. “Clove.” He says, his voice velvet and full of caring. The knight knew this horse. They had a bond. “Here.” He holds his hand up for you to hoist yourself onto the saddle. You were in no way dressed for riding, and the saddle wasn’t even a side-riding seat, but you would make it work. You knew that on the palace grounds you would have to ride side-saddle, it’s customary, and how you learned. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t ride regularly. The horses back home in Corellia were massive beasts, animals suited for harsh winters and heavy amounts of snow, thick fur covers their ankles so that they can trudge through deep snow and pull sleighs. The Mandalorian horses were far more majestic, more like show horses than work horses. Clove was gentle, though, that was something that wasn’t common for the strong horses up north. He didn’t move a muscle or bat an eyelash as you heave yourself onto his back, adjusting yourself to sit properly, the knight’s hand holding yours tightly as you positioned yourself and then rearranging the heavy skirt of your dress to properly cover your legs. His plan grazes your shin as he does it, and your eyes immediately catch the visor of his beskar helmet. You liked to think he was looking at your eyes, too. The moment is so still, time freezing for half a second.

He starts to walk the horse out of the opposite side of the stable and into the field behind the palace. You could see the tree line of the garden from here. The bridle was tightly wrapped around his hand as he led the two of you out of the palace and into the hot, hot sun. This was the first time you’ve ridden a horse in a very long time, and you had almost forgotten how much you loved it. A cheesy smile was on your face, and your eyes cycled from the mane of the horse, the shoreline ahead, the back side of the ornate castle and the top of the helmet of the knight. The sun reflected off of the beskar, causing a bright illumination to shine on the bodice of your gown. He walked methodically and quietly, and you wanted to start a conversation with him but it didn’t feel right.

Comfortable silence is often overlooked, something taken for granted that is really only shared between two trusting people. You aren’t sure if you’ve ever experienced a genuine comfortable silence with anyone before. Being a royal has a lot of “fine print”, one of which being that no one ever shut up. Korkie isn’t the only self-centered, talkative royal in this world. The thing that sets Korkie aside from the rest is the fact that you’ll have to deal with it intimately for the rest of your life.

There was something wildly attractive about the introvert by your side. Because he was few with words, it caused you to seek them out, and cherish what little you did get. He was warming up to you, opening up and every time you get a moment alone with him, he says a little more. Your conversations now are very different from that first night in the castle when he helped you untie your corset. All he said originally was “Goodnight, Princess”, and now he’s telling you about the stars and teaching you how to fight and defend yourself. The idea that it’s happened too fast has crossed your mind several times, but you considered that when you’re alone with someone almost all day, every day, you’re bound to get to know one another quicker than usual. However, you’ve also been afraid that you came off too harsh, maybe you jumped into it all too fast and overwhelmed him. What if he’s only complying to the relationship because he’s obligated to through his duty? You had to admit that there were a number of insecurities surrounding your friendship, you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t think that. Maybe you felt that way because you relied so heavily on him to get away from the other boy in your life who you can’t escape no matter how hard you try. Was it entirely possible that the knight feels about you the way you feel about Korkie? That very thought made you sick, your stomach twisting and preventing you from enjoying the beautiful landscape ahead.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. He noticed that you had tensed up. You silently curse yourself for not hiding it better.

“What?” Your look down at him, forcing a false smile. He was looking up at you now, his hand resting on your knee. Your eyes move from where he holds you and back up to the visor on his helmet. “Oh… nothing.” You hum.

“You are a fool if you think you can hide anything from me.” He tilts his head and your cheeks burn with blush. You sigh, knowing you should tell him. The chances are that expressing these concerns to him might give you a piece of mind… or they could do the exact opposite. You aren’t sure if you can take the emotional weight of resenting two men who you admire. You admire them for entirely different reasons, however. You admire Korkie for his dedication to his kingdom, and you admire that he’s genuinely trying his best. However, you admire the Knight for his kindness, his patience, his protection. You admire his velour voice, his plush lips, and the way he touches you. You admire that he’s a father, that he’s split his dedication between his duty to his kingdom and his duty to his son. You admire his deep chuckle, and the way he kisses you, the way you can see him laugh when you shoot him silly faces during dinner. You both admired and was frustrated by his obedience to his creed. He kept promises, no matter how life-altering they may be.

As you reflect on all the reasons he meant anything to you, you felt a sense of peace. It was better, the feeling in your stomach, that is. You decide it is right to tell him, you recall your governess explaining to you that all good relationships are built on enthusiastic communication, and you wanted your relationship with the Knight to be considered ‘good’. You sigh and then speak up, “I just…” You take a sharp, deep breath in the middle of your sentence before speaking up again, “just lots of insecurities, I suppose.” You shrug.

“Insecure- about what?” He asks.

“Everything, but especially us.” You didn’t really want to have this conversation, but you knew you had to.

“May I ask why?” His tone was sincere.

You aren’t sure how to reply at first. “Is it too fast? Am I too much?” You ask after careful consideration of what you were going to bring up first.

“What? No.” You think this was the first time he had ever replied immediately after you ask him something. “What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know-“

“Yes you do… tell me.” He reassures.

“Our personalities are different, you’re quiet and stoic…”

“Is that… bad?”

“No! No, not at all. Royals just aren’t that, and I worry if we’re compatible enough. And don’t mistake me, I admire that about you, but I fear I’m too much for you.” You sigh, shaking your head. Clove nickers again as if he’s listening in on your conversation and chiming in. He doesn’t respond right away which you’ve gotten used to, but if it was any other situation you wouldn’t be overthinking it. You can’t take the silence anymore and speak up, “And there’s the added factor that I’m totally cheating on Korkie with you-”

“-If I thought you were too much, do you think I would let you teach me how to dance?” He interrupts. The words halt in your mouth, and you look at him almost dumbfounded. “Or do you think I would be teaching you how to defend yourself? Fucking you on a royal sofa in an un-locked room? Risking my title to take you to the beach?” He almost sounded… angry? Had you offended him for thinking that? Your legs tensed up on the horse, and you regretted everything you had said. He did have a point, you hadn’t really thought of that.

“I… suppose you’re right.” You mutter.

“I don’t have to be doing any of this,” He grabs your hand, holding it in his and uses his other hand to halt the horse. The three of you pause in the field between the beach and the castle. There had been a downgrade so you were mostly hidden but you could still the upper-towers of the palace. He looks up and you, and you find yourself wishing you could see his eyes again. “But I do because I’m… fond of you.” It sounds like he’s having a hard time getting the words out, but that isn’t very uncommon for him. Your heart flares up, this was the first time he had ever admitted anything like that.

“W-what?” You ask, sounding like a fool.

“I know, it’s crazy. How could a halfwit like myself deserve a Princess like you?” He chuckles under his breath. “Maybe the elf laid a spell on me, I don’t know. But I do know that ever since I was given the duty of protecting you, my life has been different.” You can’t believe what you’re hearing. “I’ve… I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and I don’t know what it is but I-I-“ You smile fondly, and use his hand to hop off the horse. You bring your hands up to hold the back of his neck.

“It’s not a spell.” You whisper. “I feel it too.”

“Then it’s a spell on both of us.”

“Maybe.” You move your hands up to his helmet, desperately wanting to remove it, but you remember what you told yourself the other day. If he wishes to show you his face, it should be his choice, he deserves to be the one to take the beskar off. You would respect that. Instead, you just run your fingertips along the lip of the helmet, looking into the visor enchantingly. “Then it would be a wonderful spell.”

His hands find their way to your waist, hugging you to his chest. You rest or head on his shoulder and just close your eyes, feeling his chest plate move with each breath. It’s so still, the summer breeze softly runs through the tall grass. You can hear the waves gently hugging the beach, and the two of you just stand there like that. Completely alone, the only companionship being one another and a mindlessly-grazing horse. No one to interrupt. No doors to lock. No Princes to lie to. No thieves to fight. Just the two of you. If you could stay in that moment for the rest of your life, you would. In the earlier days of your relationship, you used to worry you wouldn’t like what his face looked like, worried that he might be unattractive to you. But every selfish desire you had about his physical appearance dissolved with the wind. No matter what he looked like, or what his past was, or what his name was, you didn’t care. You didn’t care because he cared for you, and you cared for him, too.

Before you can soak in the moment any longer, you’re swiftly grabbing his wrist, and tugging him towards the beach. The stillness of the moment is lost, but you’re quickly giggling as he’s chasing you down the small slope to the beach. You pull your skirt up as far as you can so you don’t trip on it, and find yourself being unable to slow down before the hill meets the shore. The soil slowly becomes more and more sandy, and your feet are bolting against uneven land towards teal, clear water. Before you can reach the ocean, however, strong hands are wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against the Knight’s chest. You can hear the low rumble of chuckling in his throat, and you have the biggest, dorkiest smile of all time on your face. He spins the two of you around a few times before setting you back down on the beach.

You’re out of breath from running, and your hair is already untidy from the unexpected change of direction. The wind blows it just softly, letting it pull away from your face and neck. He tucks one rogue strand behind your ear, and then cups your face. You hadn’t even realized he’s been gloveless this entire time. You close your eyes and rest your cheek into him. You turn your head ever-so-slightly to kiss his palm, laying a sweet and innocent peck to his calloused skin.

You wonder if he’s hot with all that armor on. If you were too warm with a dress, only he knows what it’s like to have to spend summers so formally.

He’s the one to pull away, walking towards the water. You follow him, and the two of you stand against the tide. You kick your shoes off and pull your dress up again. Stepping into the water. You giggle at the tickle of the sand and smile at the feeling of the warm water against your ankles. He watches you fondly with his arms crossed. The water in Corellia is never this warm, and you throw your head back in bliss, breathing in the salty air. This was the happiest you had ever been since you arrived in Mandalore. The break from all the rules and customs was very needed, and you soaked in the sound of the waves, a distant call of a gull, and the wind keeping your hair out of your face. The best part was the fact that you were experiencing it with the Knight. There is no other person you would rather spend this memory with. You bite your lip and close your eyes and you never want to leave, you want to stay here forever. You hear the sound of metal clinking behind you, and something heavy hitting the sand. You turn to look at the Knight, who had discarded most of his armor. His boots have been carefully set next to one another, and beside them were his pauldrons, wrist guards, thigh plates and breastplate. The chainmail was the next thing to be removed, leaving him in only the dark-brown underclothes. His trousers were heavy duty, covered in various pockets and made out of thick material, but his tunic was a thin material, still long sleeved, but flowy, allowing the fresh, summer breeze to run through the fabric. The two items of clothing were held together by a pair of black suspenders, and the entire ensemble made him oh so… human.

You had only seen him with all his armor on before, and witnessing his shell being removed was both humbling and inspiring. The armor added quite a bit of bulk to his stature, it rounded out his shoulders, boosted his posture, and broadened him out. That was the first thing you noticed about him on the first day you arrived, he was ample in size and it made you feel so primal and safe. Despite his smaller stature without the armor, he wasn’t one bit less attractive to you. He was still the same guy who you were slowly falling for and didn’t even know it. But as he cuffed up his trousers and rolled back his shoulders, you felt so comfortable in his presence. He wasn’t just a mass of armor and creeds and rules, no, he was just a man. He was a single father, a guy who doesn’t know the first thing about dancing, and a boy born across the world in the Nevarro frontier. He was just a man.

You couldn’t stop the warm feeling in your chest that came with this thought. Everything about him was far more simple than you initially thought.

He walked towards you, and you held out your hand for him to take. He laces his fingers with yours as he steps into the shallow water with you. Your dress drops, dipping into the water and getting wet but you can’t even be mad about it. Your smile is big as his hand tightly grasped yours, the two of you looking out at the horizon.

“When I was a boy-” he begins, his voice quiet, “I wanted to live on the sea. Join a ship crew and travel the waters. There was always something so adventurous about that thought.” He shares. You turn to look at him as he speaks, studying the contour of the helmet with your eyes.

“What stopped you?” You ask, not entirely sure if he would share, but this time he was the one to start the conversation, and you felt like he might this time.

He sighs, you see it, he turns to look at you, the two of you staring at one another as the temperature slowly dropped with the sun on the horizon. “I was orphaned when I was only five.” He shrugs, your heart breaks. “It was one of the Mandalorian wars that caused it.”

You can’t imagine what it’s like having to serve a kingdom so intimately when they were responsible for the death of your family. You give his hand a reassuring squeeze, letting him know that you’re here for him. “I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“It’s not your fault, it was so long ago I don’t really remember it.” He looks down at the water.

“Thank you, for sharing that with me.” You smile apologetically. You really did appreciate that he felt comfortable enough to share something so serious with you. While you were grateful that he had begun to open up to you, it still didn’t answer any of the questions about Mandalore’s past, and what Koska was referring to a few days ago. It didn’t tell you what his past job was and why he’s serving the royal family now. However, you supposed it didn’t really matter, not right now, not today.

After a little minute of listening to the waves, he reaches down into the water, picking up a flat, thin rock. He runs his pointer finger along the edge, outlining the shape before hatching it into the space between his index finger and thumb, reeling back, and flicking it out so it hopped over the water’s surface seven or eight times before falling in. You looked at him enchanted, like he had just expressed a magic trick to a bright-eyed child.

“How did you do that?” You ask in awe.

“You’ve never seen anyone skip a rock?” He asks. You slowly shake your head. You’ve been cooped up inside a wintry castle your entire life, of course you haven’t.

“Teach me.” You say a little too forcefully. He chuckles and looks down at the sand, looking for a pebble that might work. He bends down eventually, and picks out a similar looking rock to the original.

“So, you want a rock that’s thin and flat, like this one.” He shows you the sediment. You reach your hand out, taking it and outlining the edge of the stone with your finger similar to how he did. He walks behind you, sloshing in the water but eventually gaining position. He wraps his left arm around your waist, and cups your right hand which holds the rock in his. “Now, don’t throw it quite yet, okay?”

“Alright.”

“You’re gonna flick your wrist like this,” he motions both of your hands at the same time, pulling back and then shooting forward quickly. He does it two or three times before speaking up again. “You’ll use your pointer finger to pull back like the trigger on a crossbow, it will give the rock enough spin that it stays on top of the water.” He makes you do the motion along with him a few times again. “Your shoulders will draw back almost like you’re pulling back an arrow on a bow.” Again, he does the motion with you, your back flush to his chest. You admired that he was able to relate everything to weaponry. He definitely knew his way around combat, that was apparent to you. “Then, you add all three motions together, aim for the horizon, and-“ he pulls back with you and before you know it, the rock is spiraling out of your hand and onto the surface of the ocean. It doesn’t skip, though, and instead plops right into the water.

You frown and look back at him. “What did I do wrong?” You ask, you knew he would know what needed to change.

“You didn’t flick your finger enough. Try again.” He pulls another stone out with a grunt, and holds you against his body to pull back and send another rock out. This one skips once before plopping into the water again. You sigh out, frustrated. “Here, try without me.” He says after handing you a third flat stone. You carefully practice the motion once, desperately wanting to impress him. You then pull back and give it everything you got, only for the stone to plop in without skipping at all again.

“Ugh, lemme try again.” You say angrily. You can hear him laughing at you, but you ignore it, ready to try again and determined to get it right this time.

You must have thrown four more rocks after that with no results. Each time he tried giving you just a little more advice about different things, “Follow through” or “You had too much spin that time”. You were starting to get really frustrated, having never had to really work for anything in your life before, and you knew he was starting to have a hard time finding flat rocks. You would not give up on this.

“Maybe we can try again next time-“

“No.” You say forcefully, “We do not leave this beach until I skip a damn rock, so if you want to be back in time for your evaluation with Vizsla, I suggest you find me another rock.” You raise an eyebrow as you pull out your diplomatic royal voice. He holds his hands back in defense and then tosses you the stone he already had waiting for you. You sigh when you catch it, taking a deep breath and remembering all your training. Don’t spin too much, follow through, add all three motions together, have faith.

You pull back the stone, praying that it will all go according to plan because you aren’t sure how much longer you can take failure. You pick out your target with your eyes before adding together all the advice given to you and sending it. You can hardly believe your eyes when you see it skip at least five times over the water. You cheer out in accomplishment and look over at the Knight, smiling big and triumphant. He runs through the water to you, shouting with you.

“I knew you could do it!” He grabs your waist, congratulating you. You giggle out of achievement. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He asks.

You roll your eyes and playfully punch his arm (which luckily this time was not covered by pain-inflicting chainmail). “A lot easier than having to dodge your hits.” You admit.

“I’m proud of you.”

“It’s just a rock skip?” You wonder why he would be proud of you for that and ask yourself if you really are that pathetic.

“Yes but you put your mind to it and did it! I know some guys in the royal guard who would have given up on their third try, but you didn’t!”

“I was just trying to impress you.” You sheepishly chuckle.

“We’ll consider myself: Impressed.” He laughs and you blush.

“They don’t teach royals that.”

“Well of course not, I learned how to do that from the guy who took me in after my parents died. You picked it up much faster than I did.” He nods and you smile again.

The two of you catch your breath from the exuberant laughing, but you aren’t able to enjoy the still moment because all too quick it all comes crashing down quickly when he’s pushing you into the water. It isn’t very deep, but the unexpected soak makes you yelp out in surprise. Your initial reaction is to be frustrated, but you can hear him chuckling by your side and you can’t help but mischievously smiling in response. He’s standing, still dry with a hand over his stomach as he laughs at you. You roll your eyes before reaching up to pull him in with you, he yelps out stupefied as he’s splashing down into the tide next to you. You laugh out at him, sitting up in the water which is about waist deep. He wipes some water away from his visor and then splashes you, swatting a handful of the ocean at your face. Your laughing immediately halts from a mouthful of salt water. Your slight makeup washes off, and your hair is starting to get wet, too. You look over at him with a frown before copying his action and spraying him right back. He laughs at you, and you remember that you can’t win this. He has a helmet to keep his eyes clear from the water. You groan out of frustration, and wipe your eyes dry. He’s just looking at you, panting. His clothes were soaked now. You crawl to be closer to him in the water, which thank goodness it wasn’t too cold because you’d be rushing to get out, but the summer weather made it enjoyable to just sit there together.

[SMUT BEGINS HERE]

You’re next to him, running your fingers lightly up and down his right arm, looking at him fondly. He catches his breath, and brings his wet hand up to cup your face again. You close your eyes, hoping he takes the hint, which he does because a few seconds have your eyes are closed, his arm his pulling away from your touch against it and his lips are pressing into yours. You can tell he completely took the helmet off this time, which means he would take his time kissing you instead of a quick peck to shut you up.

The two of you sit in the water of the Mandalorian Ocean, both of his hands reaching up to hold you as he kisses each eyelid as if to say “keep ‘em closed”, before moving to your lips passionately. His left hand holding your cheek while his right hand finds its place on the back of your neck, pulling you into him. You breathe deeply as he practically devours you, his lips moving hungrily. Your hands find their way to his thighs in the water, running your palms up and down the strong muscle, making sure to take notice of the healing wound on his upper-thigh. Your hands eventually find their way to the waistband of his pants, running your fingers under them to pull out the tuck of the tunic. Fingernails come out of the water and up soft abs that flinch at the stroke. It’s hard to work around the suspenders, but you’re able to still run your hands over his torso, getting to know his body for the first and hopefully not the last) time. He has a few scars, you can feel the fresh tissue under your fingers and wonder what caused them. He’s still kissing you, his left hand moves down to hold your jaw and you keep your eyes tightly shut out of fear of this ending too quickly. The kissing noises are obscene, wet and needy amongst the sound of the waves. The Knight licks into your mouth, his tongue hot and forceful as it explores your mouth, you can taste the lust on his lips, and you happily welcome the sensation.

His right hand works around the way your gown has flared out in the water and eventually wraps itself around your ass, pulling you up onto his lap. You’re mostly out of the water now, just your shins being completely submerged. You’re slightly weighed down by the added weight of a wet skirt, but you sit comfortably on the guards lap, your hands coming up to wrap around his neck, kissing him from above now. The kiss is forced down, and this time you’re able to lick into his mouth, nibbling his lip and deepening the kiss further from the angle. You can’t help your hands from cupping his face now, pulling him into you.

Your noses rub into one another, and both of his arms lift you up from behind. Your back arches into him, and your breathing hitches, getting heavier and hotter. He starts to get hard, you feel it under your body, and a mixture of the kissing and the pressure beginning to press into your cunt is really starting to turn you on. You start to just softly grind against him, moaning a little bit at the feeling of his growing cock against your heat. His hands help you, making the humping motion more smooth and natural. The kissing becomes sloppy now, and the water from the wet bodice is making your nipples just that much harder.

Your hands are reaching down to slide the suspenders off his shoulders, and then you’re pulling his shirt up and unhooking the trousers. Your hand is reaching in and finding the base of his hardening, thick length. He groans at your touch, and you’re bending down to kiss his neck, sucking deep, purple hickeys into his golden skin. You’re needy, still grinding against him and trying not let the water slow you down. He’s sighing breathy moans and grunts in your ear as you start jerking him off. The water does make it hard, but there’s something about the added sensation of the flowing water that really made it unique. You swipe your thumb over the head a few times, getting drunk with the unexpected control you have. This was the first time the two of you have fooled around that you really got to have total dominance. You liked it… you really liked.

He did too.

Your clit is able to rut so slightly and deliciously into your fist and his cock, and you’re having a hard time not letting your eyes open and flutter in pleasure. The same shocks of ecstasy ran up and down your spine, and he held you closer to his body, using his strong hands to cup your ass and knead the soft skin. You’re panting, your free hand reaches down to rub your clit, both of your hands working in between your legs as you straddle the Knight. You’re going to cum already and can’t believe it’s happening so fast but choose not to hold it back. You’re moaning out loud when you cum against your fingers, graining against his lap fast and squeezing his cock a little harder.

“Fuck, did you just cum?” He asks deep in his voice, growling in your ear. You hum out in response against his neck pathetically, and all dominance you previously possessed dissolves as you keep jerking off your Knight. “Dirty girl, kiss me. Keep those pretty eyes closed.” His throat is dry, which you remember from last time that that means he’s close, too. You reach up to kiss him again, going in tongue first and breathing in his scent deeply. One of his hands reaches around to cup yours that is working his length, holding it and adding pressure and then making you go faster, you happily oblige and soon the pace is quick and he’s grunting against your lips. He cums in your hand, you feel the heat of it. He’s panting and sighing and it’s all so hot you think you could get turned on by it again.

He rests his head on your shoulder after cumming, catching his breath. You take your hand out of the water and you tangle your fingers through his hair, toying with the curls as he sighs against your wet skin. You open your eyes now, looking out at the horizon, lashes heavy with lust.

[SMUT ENDS HERE]

“Gross.” You chuckle.

“You liked it.” He hums against your collar bone. His hands are steadfast on your lower back, holding you there against his chest. He doesn’t have the cold breastplate separating the two of you, so your hearts were pressed against one another, beating in perfect synch. You could also finally feel how warm his body was, despite the wet clothes and gentle waves. In your peripheral, you can see some of the brown curls.

Your heart warms, this might be the happiest you have ever been. The two of you must have sat like that for a long time because your skin was starting to prune and your hair was slowly drying with the wind. His breathing had completely calmed, and he was so still and quiet that just for a moment you wondered if he had fallen asleep. The sun was almost down completely, only a little sliver of it peaking over the water. You watched it as it fell to its resting place in the ocean, the sky still blazing oranges and yellows but cooling with a soft, pale blue from the top down. It was so… serene, so peaceful. Nothing like the crashing waves of Corellia. This was the best part of Mandalore yet. It’s saving grace.

The crescent moon is on the horizon when he’s turning to kiss your ear one more time and asking you to close your eyes as he pulls the helmet back on.

“We should probably get back, I don’t want to be late for Vizsla and I’m afraid I’ve started to lose track of time.” He stands up and holds his hand out for you to take. You attempt to hoist yourself up out of the water, but the wet dress has added so much weight that you can’t lift your legs up. You grunt in effort, but there’s no budging. “Huh, looks like we need to take that thing off.”

“Again?” You look up at him, you knew he had a smug smirk under all that beskar. You reach behind you to undo the corset just enough for you to step out of it, water dripping from your undergarment as he yanks you up and out of the warm water. “I’m starting to think you just really like seeing me naked.” You mutter and don’t realize how close you were to him while saying that until after. You catch your tongue, holding your breath as he looks down at you.

“Yeah, something like that.” He mumbles in response and you believe you could faint and die right then and there. He doesn’t let the moment stew for nearly as long as you would have liked for it, however and he’s pulling the sopping wet dress out of the water and carrying it back on shore. He hands it to you when he gets to his armor, and you try ringing some of the liquid out from the fabric but it’s almost too heavy for you to even hold in your arms. He re-assembles his gear on top of the wet clothes and you know that can’t be comfortable. Sand clings to your bare, wet feet, and you're desperately trying to brush some of it off before slipping your shoes back on. He’s resituated too fast, he has dressing his armor down to a perfection and you’re sad to see your beach adventure come to a close so quickly.

Before you know it, he’s walking up the hill again with you by his side, making your ways to Clove who has been diligently and patiently chewing on the grass in the field this entire time.

“Ride with me.” You ask as he helps you onto the palomino. “Please.” You ask. “We’ll get to the palace faster and then maybe you can get out of those wet clothes before you have to go to the meeting.” You ask. He sighs but then nods with a shrug, hoisting himself onto the horse behind you. You were riding normally now, and situated yourself comfortably into his chest. The wet gown lay on the back of the horse and you wished you had thought about removing that before getting into the water.

As the two of you start a gentle gallop to the palace, you feel your hair get drier. At one moment he reaches his hand up to run bare fingers over your healing bicep.

“We should have kept this out of the water.” He says in your ear. You twist your head back to reply.

“It’s okay, really. It’s starting to feel a lot better.” You reassure.

“It looks better, but the salt water can only do bad things to it.” He explains. You shrug, unsure of how he expects you to respond.

The three of you arrive at the castle just as the sky begins to darken, both of you still damp from the ocean but your hearts still full and bodies still riding the orgasm high. The Knight helps you off the horse, and now that you aren’t alone, you feel very aware that you’re only in your undergarments and really anyone could see you. You pull the wet gown off the rump of Clove, which was so saturated that it made his fur wet. You hold it against your body, trying to cover yourself up as much as possible. The Knight removes the saddle of the horse, storing it away and removing the bit. He stretches the beast’s ears and then walks over to the far side of the stable to grab a carrot out of a bucket before handing it to Clove as a reward for his hard work. You watch him as he expertly takes care of the animal, like he’s done it a thousand times before.

Then, with no warning, the two of you hear the shrill voice of none other than Koska Reeves.

“I shouldn’t have let you go.” She’s crossing over the dirt courtyard to the stables. Her hair has been done now, put up into the customary braids they usually are in. She was now wearing the royal blue color reserved for the Queen’s court, a golden sash sitting on her hips. She held the dress above her feet and she hustled in your direction. You felt scared, you knew Koska meant business, and was not afraid to scold. She was intimidating, to say the least. “You’re soaking wet.” She gasps when she gets to the stable fence. “Come with me, Princess. We must get you changed before anyone sees you or the Queen will have my head.” She sighs, opening the gate for you to walk through. “As for you, Vizsla’s here early.”

“What.” You heard the drop in his voice from panic. “Why?”

“No one knew, he just arrived before we could do any regular welcoming. The evaluation is starting in ten minutes, I suggest you move your ass.” She shakes her head. You were incredibly thankful you had both rode Clove now. He wouldn’t have made it back in time if you hadn’t. You did feel a twinge of guilt, however. You shouldn’t have pushed for that so much and risked him missing his mandatory meeting. But an overwhelming part of you was more than happy that you got to experience those few hours alone with him. He swears under his breath before bowing to you, shrugging apologetically and then full sprinting towards the servant quarter’s entrance. “I would take that from you,” Koska says in reference to the wet dress, “But I’m already in my ceremonial dress. I can’t get it wet. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I can manage.” You nod. The two of you begin to walk back inside, and the night time breeze runs over your wet body, making you shudder ever-so-slightly. When you get back inside, the Knight is nowhere to be seen, and there’s only a fraction of the people as there were earlier. The masks had all been moved somewhere, which let you know they finished them. A mother sat on a chair by the fireplace, nursing a small baby and three young boys who couldn’t be any older than seventeen all sat around one table playing some type of card game and eating buttered bread. They were the stable boys. The three of them stared at you when you walked in, in awe of your unparalleled beauty and the fact that you were carrying a massive, heavy, wet dress.

Koska led you down a hall adjacent to the fireplace. You could see into a few sleeping quarters. The little ones were dozing off, and in one room was a couple laughing together. The small community that existed underneath the palace was something you deeply admired. You wouldn’t have had any idea any of this was here if you hadn’t pushed for today’s events, and you truly loved it. You loved how all these people found refuge and a home here.

You wished you could, too.

Koska stops at one door, taking the wet dress out of your hands and tossing it into the room before closing the wooden door shut and progressing back down the hallway. She eventually opens up a door to a small room with a single bed and large chest.

“Is this your room?” You ask, looking around and familiarizing yourself with it. A single embroidery hoop with a half-done pattern sat on the bed, on the windowsill was a melting candle whose wax had dried in a cascading pattern on the ancient stone, and at the foot of the bed was a small table with a wash basin and hairpins.

“No, It’s my sister’s. My room is closer to the Queen’s.” She nods. You had no clue Koska had a sister. She opens up the chest and pulls out a dry under-slip and simple but pretty purple dress. It wasn’t a ballgown and had long, bell sleeves in a similar fashion to Koska’s. There was some moon and star embroidery on the bodice.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.” You said, starting to shiver a little now.

“Her name is Alva, she works in the kitchen.” She nods as she crosses over to the table, opening up a little box to pull out a horse-hair comb.

“Will she mind us using her things?”

“Well, you’re the Princess, so I hope not.” She shrugs and crosses over the room again like a madwoman, pulling a wool blanket from the chest. “Here, strip and dry off.” You look at her, confused. “Alright… I’ll turn around then.” Koska rolls her eyes and turns to face the wall. You peel off the wet slip, and use the wool material to wipe your body dry. It wasn’t nearly as soft and luxurious as the cotton robes you have five floors up, but it will do for now. You have sand everywhere, and you mean everywhere. You brush it off as best you can, hoping it doesn’t make too much of a mess for anyone to have to clean. You then pull on the dry clothes, and clear your throat when you’re done and decent.

Koska turns around and smiles. “Sit, I’ll brush your hair for you and then escort you back upstairs to see your parents.”

You had completely forgotten that they would be arriving tonight. You get a twinge of adrenaline. You’ve been so homesick, and it will be nice to see some familiar faces after such an emotional two weeks. You sit at the stool in front of the table, and Koska carefully combs out your knotted but drying hair.

“So… It looks like you two had fun.” She says. You smile and blush.

“Yes, we did.” You chuckle.

“That’s good, it’s been so long since he’s had fun. He deserves it.” She hums in response and you immediately question how they know one another so well again.

“How do you know each other?” You ask, knowing there's no harm in that.

Koska sighs, “We… used to work together in a sense. He’s a good man, an even better father.” She shrugs. So that’s four people you can think of who know about his son, You, Koska, Peli and the woman from Isla’s bar… although that situation seemed different, magical almost.

“You two never…” You trail off, not really wanting to hear the answer but not stopping yourself before you ask it anyways.

Koska laughs out loud this time, stopping the combing motion, “Oh stars, no. Never. I have someone else… and he has you.”

Your heart warms at that phrase. “Who is this ‘someone else’ you speak of?” You ask, enjoying the casual girl talk the two of you are sharing.

She hums again, “You’ve met her, she’s shorter than me and far more serious, she has a fire burning, but she’s special to me.” You can hear the smile in Koska’s tone.

You wonder who she’s talking about.

—

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seimeinotaka · 3 years ago

Text

Rêverie (An OberonXGudako fic)

MASSIVE LOSTBELT 6 SPOILERS INCLUDING OBERON'S PROFILE AND BOND CE

Summary: Oberon has been unexpectedly summoned to Chaldea. He wonders why he is even there as he reminisces what happened in Avalon Le Fae. But it seems Ritsuka isn't leaving him alone, much to his annoyance.

Thanks to jellyfishy for beta-reading this!

Once again, the story has major spoilers for LB6, Oberon's profile and Bond CE, as well as important plot points of Solomon, LB1 and LB5.

There's implied one-sided love, mentions of heavy topics such as loss, and mentions of deceased characters.

"Master, Master, you've gotten better at this!"

"Thank you, Gogh! I've been practicing a lot using the tips you and Oui gave me. Even Jeanne Alter praised my background, hehe!"

"Hey, I said it was passable. Pas-sa-ble!"

Ritsuka Fujimaru has been drawing something in the cafeteria, surrounded by many servants that come and go. No one asks what she is doing, they all seem to know or if they don’t, they don’t bother to ask.

It is so bothersome. Annoying.

So many people surrounding her, like an ultraviolet lamp that attracts all the bugs. Never mind that they end up getting zapped the moment they ever dare to touch it.

The people, the sound, the merriment, it all annoys Oberon, who only watches in silence as he eats some ice cream with melon.

To be able to smile like that, even after discarding all of those stories...Oberon doesn't hide a crooked smile. In the end, the lostbelts are no more than faint dreams doomed to end, forgotten by the winners, the panhuman history citizens. Ritsuka Fujimaru isn't different. For her, it's like reading the doujin the swimsuit berserker is making. Once the pages are closed, the story ends and it ceases to exist. She can choose to forget.

Truly detestable.

Oberon stares and then walks away, just as Ritsuka lifts her face. She looks around, the feeling of being watched faintly breaking her concentration.

But in the end he doesn't say a word as he leaves.

“Hey, you keep looking at Master!” Jeanne Alter slams her hands on the table where Oberon is sitting. Said Master is working again, too enthralled talking with Gogh to notice Jeanne Alter slipping away to talk to him.

“Does it bother if I do?” He gives her a crooked smile as she huffs and scowls. Though of course her face turns slightly pink.

“Tch, of course not! It's just your stare is getting on my nerves! Wouldn't you get distracted if someone is looking at you intensely?”

“I am a creation, not a creator. I wouldn't understand what you're saying. Besides, I wasn’t looking at her or you anyway,” he says mockingly.

“Hmph, whatever you say. Leave when Master is drawing, what she is doing is very important and I won't let you make it messy.”

“Hah, a page of your little comic? As if you need a lot of care. But fret not, I am certain that with your keen insight and guidance it will be something so memorable, up to the level of the famous writers here in Chaldea.”

“You bug...Bring it, I will burn you to a crisp! Moths do like fire, don't they? Surely you will feel at home then!” Jeanne Alter laughs. “I'll let you know that it is something so impressive that it would make you cry, if you're capable of that anyway.”

Though her Saint Graph right now is one of a Berserker, it seems the insight of the Avenger still exists deep within. After all, only those who are similar can recognize each other. Fake recognizes fake. Emptiness recognizes emptiness. Hate can only recognize hate.

Though come to think about it, Ritsuka has always been writing, he noticed she kept a small book on her, during quiet times. Perhaps a diary of sorts. It wouldn’t be surprising, to record everything she has experienced, as the writer of the winning history.

When we die, we'll become like those stories. Our lives are stories that might be discussed and forgotten, so it's not that different from your midsummer night dream.

A dream you forget once you wake up from your slumber.

“You're a tsundere,” Ritsuka says flatly as she rests her chin on her hand. She even dares to give Oberon a shrug and a smile, as if she can tell the truth between the lies.

“Ah, you're annoying.”

“That's exactly what I'm talking about, hehe!”

An obnoxious smile continues to be on her face, and he simply looks at her with unveiled disgust and apathy.

“Why am I even here?”

“Well, you answered the call, so you can only blame yourself for that.”

“What.”

“The rayshift system call can be refused. That's an inescapable truth. You lie a lot but there are some truths in your words. Or actions in this case. You wanted to be in Chaldea, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“Ah there it is, your virtuous nature shining through. One day you'll be fooled by someone who is pretending to be your ally...ah, my bad, that has already happened, isn't that right? Maybe you should learn your lesson.”

“Ah, yes. But it doesn't change that you are here. And because you lie often, that means I can just take it whatever way I like. You'll just deny it even if I'm right. But you can't deny we get along pretty well!”

“We do not!”

“See, that's a lie!”

“Ah, I'm going to the cafeteria! Don't follow me!”

Yet we thrive on dreams, don’t we?

“How long do you think I've been in this business? Have you interacted already with some of the servants here? I can tell you don’t mind my company.”

“I quit, I'll break the contract!”

“So, one cube or two?” Ritsuka dares to offer him the sugar cube container, even holding some tongs, just to put the amount he requests in his cup.

“You really want a poisoned tea, right, wonderful Master?~”

Even if they are something that doesn’t exist, we yearn for them, even to make them a reality. No matter how impossible. No matter how painful.

That is why we can never get rid of them.

Even if we forget once the veil of dawn has ended, something of it remains.

“There's so much that is subjective. For example, you were Artoria's Merlin, weren't you? For a moment you were Merlin, that was her truth. There's different Merlins, I mean we have different Artorias here from different eras and classes. You were a different Merlin than the one I know.”

Ritsuka is busy trying different colors. Oui and Gogh got into a discussion on how to best get the tones she was aiming for, and they even went to do some research on their own. The reds of a forest seem familiar yet not quite right, not that Oberon was looking at the notebook.

It has to have a dreamlike feeling, that’s what she wanted, but that’s not easy to pour into a painting.

“What we see as a lie or as truth, it changes with our perception. Your lies and my truths might be different, but it's ok. In the end we have only one perspective. That's why lies and truths can mix, that's why contradictions exist. I mean, that is why you are here.”

“Here's some advice from the bottom of my heart, don't quit your day job, Master. Stick to the world saving and leave the philosophical dissertation to virtually anyone else.”

In the end, does the truth really matter?

Something that can change when you close your eyes. Something that is as fleeting as a moth's life.

Would anything change in the grand scheme of things?

To protect Ritsuka, Chaldea forged a story, one where Romani Archaman was at fault for everything that happened.

To the world that is on the verge of disappearing, that became the truth.

To everyone in Chaldea, the truth is that this girl worked harder than anyone to protect this world.

That was what Sherlock Holmes said once they met. Oberon didn’t like him, but in a way he seems familiar. Holmes is a great detective, but since he keeps everything to himself, he might be wrong the entire time until the last minute.

So it’s not like Oberon can take him that seriously.

Even so, he told him the story of the great journey before Panhuman History was at risk by the Alien God. A story of which he was somehow aware, but it seems different when it is told by someone else.

To Oberon, it was a story of selfish survival. A fitting story of those who fight in the mud to continue existing.

To Holmes, it was a story of humanity bravely fighting to avoid destruction. An unlikely event that might have inspired others. Or rather, that is how the Leonardo Da Vinci from that time would have framed it, since Holmes isn’t an author and the current Da Vinci is someone different now.

The events are there, what changes is our perception of them. Perhaps this is where truths and lies take root, the lie of today becomes the truth of tomorrow.

The lie allows the fake existence to continue even when the dream has already ended.

But in the end, everything will fade, so nothing really matters.

"Well, I don't know if it has a meaning, but doesn't that mean you can give it your own? Just like how I can take your lies the way I want."

"Aren't you a simplistic one? No, perhaps it is that kind of thinking that has let you get this far. What a naive Master Chaldea has. Though it helps you accomplish your goals. "

He is not sure why they are taking tea while chatting, but here he is. Perhaps it is to hide his annoyance, the Master won’t stop until she gets what she wants anyway, so he is just avoiding a pointless squabble.

"You can think whatever you want~ and in any case, even if the feelings of today will be nothing in the future, that doesn't mean they are worthless. Because they affect the you of today and that is the moment when you are alive.”

The joy of living, that is something Oberon can’t understand nor tolerate. It angers him.

Of course, he is an entity of the abyss so how could he comprehend that?

The will of self-destruction, the cessation of existence. That something is so fundamentally wrong that it must wiped out, for there is no way to fix something that crooked.

Faerie Britain wished for him because it had to be wiped away from all records, because it had no way of being salvaged.

Therefore, he can only listen to those words.

(Perhaps it is the envy of not having something? Perhaps it is the bitterness of no longer having something to do, to dream for? Or simple ennui that no matter what, in the end it doesn’t matter?)

Ritsuka ignores his silence, as she continues.

“I don't know but for someone who likes stories you don't seem like you're actually enjoying them.”

“Would you enjoy a story where you fade away like everyone in the lostbelts you have erased? Ah, my bad. Surely, as the winner you can afford to disregard those stories. Silly me, of course you would be able to believe that as the victor you can claim to be the true history. Panhuman history is in the end mankind's right path, after all, and everything else can fade into the abyss.”

Her smile is complex, almost a facade. From one angle it looks like a forlorn frown, from the other a faint smile. She plays with the spoon on her table.

"Hmmm, I wonder..."

Dr. Roman, we finally beat the British Lostbelt. It was unlike any other places we were, and I keep thinking of Percival's words...

I wish you were still here.

The sacrifice of someone can mean the whole world for a single person. The sacrifices of millions can become a mere statistic, a simple cold number to show how bad an event was. In the end, it doesn't matter.

What was once lost will never come back.

The void left in one's soul will never heal, it only becomes more bearable with time.

But even so, that lingering pain is the proof that someone was alive, that they left a mark on the others they met as one looks at the twinkling stars and reminisces of the never-happening-again past.

“Did you know the true opposite of love isn't hate but indifference?”

“Haaah? Perhaps you didn't think so but I was being honest about my suggestion. Thinking too much will only hurt your head. You should only focus on what's in front of you.”

“Whether you love or hate, you end up putting a lot of attention to the object of your affections, but if you're indifferent to it, it ceases to exist. Perhaps your hatred of everything is because there's something you cannot afford to lose.”

Titania was the wife of Oberon in Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream. She was the only one who could accept the king's eccentric personality.

But in reality, she was just a creation for the story, a being who was never real.

Of course, there isn't a person like that in the world.

Someone who accepts a hollow entity like me.

“I don’t know, if Arjuna Alter was able to come to terms with his own humanity, well...nevermind. I was just thinking aloud.”

(Ideals are just that.

A concept not belonging to this world.

It is when you reconcile with the flawed reality that you can grasp your happiness, the one you have.)

“Heh-Hahahaha, that's rich, Master!”

This is so sickening.

Only Titania could have loved(tolerated) such an unpleasant existence. Only Titania could have loved(tolerated) a being born of hate, a destructive force whose only purpose is to rend everything to ashes.

But the fact is, Titania doesn't exist. This means no one could accept someone like him.

That is the unpleasant truth.

That is why people are entranced(poisoned) by falsehoods, lies to sweeten the body and protect the soul. It's a sweet elixir to hide from the harsh reality, the ultimate end of the journey of everyone, a pointless, worthless life. Because at the end of the dream, no matter what one has accomplished, it doesn't change the finale of this story and it is doomed to be forgotten.

Just as the one princess from before, who also fell in love with the Fairy King. The one who tried to give fire to his cold body. But he didn't notice this, not even when her snow body had ceased to move, a protection of love.

So in the end, if it's not acknowledged, it is the same as it never had happened.

“Tell me, does it matter to you? Are you going to tell me you know how I feel? That you understand what I'm going through? Come on, tell me your important story, that everything is going to be alright as long as I'm not alone-”

“I can't. I don't know how you feel. Even if we had suffered the same, I wouldn't know how you feel.”

Her words or her smile, the same as before. He doesn’t know which but it cuts him short.

“All I know is the pain of losing someone important to me, but that's not what you're feeling, right?”

The Titania I wish for doesn't exist in this world. The Faerie Britain that gave birth to me no longer exists, even if I have accomplished my goal.

I am merely a dream whose purpose has been fulfilled and thus, the curtain shall be down as I exit the stage.

The things I yearn for are merely dreams. Even so, I hope, because I saw it existed for someone else. For another Oberon, not the one I am.

The illusion of happiness, the hope of a love.

I don't know how it is to not be Oberon, the lying king. The king without any other purpose. The villain that has exited the stage having won, but now even that victory is pointless.

Then, why am I still here?

“For what it's worth, I like you. You're nice company, lies and all.”

“You’re an odd one.”

“I've been told that often.”

“It's not a compliment, you have no taste.”

“You know, for Panhuman history I am the hero, ensuring our world survives. But to everyone else from every lostbelt erased...I am the worst of the worst, the villain that destroys their world.��

Ritsuka traces the notebook on her hands. The contents of the rest could be disclosed but Oberon doesn’t open any of the other pile of notebooks, so they all lie on her bed.

“Patxi cursed me for showing him a world that he thought was happier than his.”

Tears fell from her eyes as she smiled weakly. “I wonder if that was ever the right choice.”

“Panhuman history isn't the perfect utopia you can imagine. Humans seek hatred and war, there's suffering and agony. While some can lead happy lives, there's so many who can't even enjoy a warm meal or think of a future. Kirshtaria saw that, he wanted to make a better world because ours was so imperfect.”

“Why are we still going?”

“Why was ours the correct one?”

“Even now, I don't know. And I'm not sure if I'll ever know. Any justification might seem a rationalization, something to feel less guilty for killing all those people.”

“That is why I cannot forget, I cannot let the history of those lostbelts be erased. Even if I'm the only one who remembers,” her grip on the notebook tightened, “I can never forget them.”

Like a dream, one time Oberon caught sight of what she was drawing, finally reaching the dreamy red hue she long sought, depicting the autumn forest Oberon knew and hated.

The words depicting what happened in Faerie Britain, the stories of Artoria, Morgan, of Barghest, Baobhan Sith and Melusine, of Aurora, of Mike, of Ector, of Knocknarea, of him.

“Even if the rest of the world forgets, I cannot. That's why I want to record as much as I can. I caused them to disappear, remembering all of them is the least I can do.”

“That's guilt for you.”

“...Yes, I can't deny that. I've caused many people to suffer, that is why I cannot stop.”

“You're an idiot. Pursuing a fleeting dream that will only cause you to hurt, as your heart tears itself apart with these thorns you surround yourself with.”

“I guess. But someone has to do it right? But even so…

“I enjoy the moments with everyone here in Chaldea and I can say I'm happy.

But I also feel deep sadness for everything that I have done and continue to do.”

There are many contradicting truths, woven into each other.

Like overlapping threads in a beautiful(horrible) story.

“I could think Panhuman history is the correct one because it was there. There was a reason why it was chosen.”

“And if there isn't? If there is truly no meaning to your journey? That the reason your world was chosen was a mere whim of fate, a sudden lucky roll of the dice? That there is nothing special to your world that makes you worthy of the title of proper human history?”

“Then I guess I will have to make it so that there is one.”

“And if you can't?”

“Just because I can't doesn't mean I shouldn't try.”

“Trying doesn't mean you will succeed. Morgan tried her hardest, but in the end, she still failed, crumbling in despair as her Faerie kingdom burnt to ashes.”

“Well, that will come bite me when the time comes, but for now, that’s all I can do, right?”

In the end, as long as it entertains, does it matter?

What is the purpose of a story? To bring joy(tears)? To break one from that moment of boredom, of despair, and heal the soul even if just a little?

And in the end, does it even matter?

“I like this Saint Graph more.”

It’s been a long time since he has donned the clothes as King Oberon. Once the façade was over, once he could ascend, he has never worn anything but the colors of the depths of the abyss. Anyone else would think they are unsightly, hateful, depressing.

After all, the warmth of King Oberon’s butterfly wings makes children smile, makes people trust him. His monstruous limbs right now are not enchanting.

“I thought you were a butterfly girl. And I have been wearing these ever since, why are you even saying this up until now?”

“I just wanted to say that. I like the fluffy cape and the butterfly wings, but you sound less pained right now. And this outfit is cool too.”

In the end, perhaps Titania isn't meant to be someone who brings the sun to your eyes, with laughter so contagious that she makes the bitterness of a day go away. She's not a neverending warmth on a cold winter, nor a guiding bright star up in the dark sky. She's not the simple to your complicated, the light to your dark, the smile to your frown, the opposite of your miserable existence that brings joy to your life. An illogical being that accepts you in spite of your incompatibility.

Was I wrong all along?

A companion when watching a wonderful(decadent) play.

Someone who walks by your side in a crumbling world.

Someone whose company makes the poison more bearable and hell, tolerable.

Someone who simply loves me for who I am. Who gazed at the abyss, saw the void yet didn't run away.

Ah, this is so laughable, an amateur terrible tragicomedy, a hideous play with no sickeningly sweet ending.

(Perhaps it is because Titania is a wretched creature herself. Or perhaps because Titania's wings have been torn off that she understands a small fragment of you. Even if true understanding is a lie, a pipe dream. Titania has seen her own hell and can sympathize with yours, with the emptiness and resentment you hold. Not fearing it, not judging it. Just accepting you as the flawed existence you are.

If that is the case, then there is nothing beautiful about Titania.)

But even so...

"...You are..."

"Did you say something?"

"No, nevermind."

Ritsuka smiles as Oberon looks away. He grumbles about the cramped space as he hoards the bed, swatting a mosquito away while she writes in her diary. The boring stories she writes that he doesn't care about even if his fingers have traced those letters.

But even so, he stays.

Ah, love is a bothersome thing.

Thank you for reading!

Now, OH BOY WHERE TO BEGIN. Title comes from Debussy's Rêverie. I wanted to play with it, seeing that Oberon's Bond CE is called Pavane for a Dead Princess, which is the title of a melody by Ravel. I am sure it is no coincidence. Both Ravel and Debussy were considered the cornerstones of Impressionism in music, however, they both HATED being labeled like that.

Pavane for a Dead Princess is one of Ravel's solo compositions for the piano. However, unlike what the title implies, Ravel specifically said that it wasn't meant to be a melody of a funeral, but he wanted to evoke the idea of a princess dancing to the pavane. However, some people didn't really listen to him. So in this case, I think that rather than to see Oberon's CE as a funeral to Blanca, it is a way to celebrate her story, even if it didn't end on the happier note we would have wished. You can listen to it here

Now Rêverie is by Debussy and it's meant to feel like a dream, hence the name. The melody became a massive hit, though Debussy later hated this piece because he felt that he had written better pieces but this one was the one that made him famous. Since it was written when he was young, he felt he was still lacking a lot, but the melody became one of his most popular compositions nonetheless. I think that story ties nicely with what we perceive vs what others perceive. You can listen to it here

Now onto the actual fic, I had this vague idea when part 3 was released, especially after all the spoilers about Oberon's true identity. I really wanted to get him, and I was super lucky. In between getting him, his profile and bond lines being translated, I just got possessed to write this as a way to honor and thank him for coming home AND to give him a sort of happy ending after Avalon.

Oberon in that bed is thanks to that comic on Twitter where he is eating chips without any care and the kind reminder of his voice lines that in spite of him constantly complaining, he spends an awful lot of time on our room. Hehehe.

Best of luck if you are pulling for him! And once again, thank you for reading!

#fate grand order #ritsuka fujimaru #obeguda #fgo oberon #oberon vortigern #fgo

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