#and as soon as i realized its true i wanted to draw my favorite high strung girlie | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

icequeenbae · 3 years

Text

Desert Flower (m) Ch. 1 | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader x Baëkhyun

Characters: EXO and X-EXO (not all of them mentioned)

EXO vs X-EXO dynamics, complicated relationships, angsty, action, smut (as usual)

Warnings: sorta mingling with your ex’s ‘evil twin’, mentions of blood/ violence (nothing too graphic… I suppose), Y/N gets teary a lot(?), explicit content, rough sex, unprotected sex

Word Count: ~13.5k (full), ~3.7k (Chapter 1)

Summary: Baekhyun, your beloved boyfriend of three years, suddenly breaks up with you and disappears from the city in an attempt to protect you. But leaving you alone and clueless means trouble will surely find you. For it is easy to spot a flower in the desert.

Masterlist >> One >> Two (m) >> Three (m) >> Four (fin)

Author’s Note: Yay, this is happening!!! My first BaekBaёk, oml I’m gonna-

Ok. I’ll admit right off the bat that I wouldn’t be posting this any time soon without my lovely beta @baekshoney 🖤 She’s the person I turn to when I think there’s a million little things I could’ve done better, because that’s what I always think. I had to give myself a cut-off date to finally give up editing this 😅 So, I’d really appreciate it if you guys could share your thoughts and opinions on this too. My asks, dms and comments are places where you’re always welcome! Now, let’s get into this!

Tags: @blahblahblah-boo @baeklightsx @wooya1224 @baekklove

Chapter 1. The beginning of the end

It was all too sudden.

The words he’d said deafened you. Refusing to believe what you were hearing, you shook your head and took a step back, as if doing so could start the conversation you’d just had over. Or rewind the time and allow you to prevent the words from coming out of his mouth in the first place. But he was firm, unyielding in his stance.

‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. ‘It’s my fault. I should’ve known better.’

Than to start this relationship, was what he meant. That he should have avoided getting in a relationship with you altogether, and breaking up with you would’ve never become an issue.

‘Why?’ You tried to speak, but your lower lip started to tremble, silencing you at once.

This was all wrong. It couldn’t have been true, what he was saying.

He licked his lips, looking away, hands forming tight fists at his sides as he tried to recollect himself and urge his body to stay frozen on the spot.

That did not work for long – the sight of you, so small, so stunned and defeated, with tears welling in your eyes while you tried to stifle them… He couldn’t. It was stupid of him to break his act so easily, but you were too precious to him to just leave you like this.

Sighing and cursing himself out in his mind, he took a stride towards you and gathered you tightly in his arms.

‘I am sorry, Y/N,’ he continued softly, hearing you hiccup in his unexpected embrace. ‘But I have to leave. We- I should’ve stayed away from you from the start. Forgive me for being so weak.’

You sobbed at his words, shaking your head stubbornly and clinging to his broad chest as an act of desperation.

‘I can come with you!’

‘No,’ he interrupted your crazy idea. ‘I’m leaving you behind. To keep you safe.’

‘Safe from what?’ You questioned, half-annoyed now.

He kept insisting that he wished to protect you, but how was leaving you all alone ensuring your security? And why would you even consider it, when you only felt safe while with him?

‘I cannot tell you. The more you know, the more dangerous it is.’

‘Baekhyunie, please,’ you wiped the tears and grabbed onto his vest as he moved to pull away. ‘You can’t just decide this on your own!’

‘Y/N,’ he took hold of your wrists, not removing them just yet. ‘I know it’s hard, and I never wanted to hurt you like this. But there’s nothing you can say that’ll change my mind. I’d rather break your heart than risk your life, so it’s not really a choice.’

He looked around as if to make sure you were not being watched, and then leaned in to place a farewell kiss on your temple – his favorite spot. You sniffled, realization of the inevitable setting in.

‘Just let me go, flower,’ his voice lowered to a whisper, and you sobbed at the pet name. ‘You’ll be better off without me, I promise.’

‘No,’ you protested as he freed himself from your grasp, and took a step back. ‘No, Baekhyun, don’t leave,’ you clawed at his forearm, trying to stop him. ‘We can deal with it together, we can think of something! I don’t want to be without you,’ you whimpered sorrowfully.

He shook his head, shying away from your touch, while you desperately tried to hold him back.

But you couldn’t. He gently peeled your hands off to walk away, and you missed the pained crease between his eyebrows when he turned his back on you to escape your apartment.

‘Please, don’t do this…’ You whispered, voice breaking in anguish. Just as your heart was.

Yet, Baekhyun kept walking. Leaving you to weep in the unwelcoming emptiness of your home.

Leaving you for good.

***

Your relationship with Baekhyun started almost three years ago.

Still new to university life, you found yourself in the midst of a soap opera worth of drama when a bunch of transfer students joined all at once, some even in the same year as you. All highly attractive, they usually hung out together and spent less time than needed socializing with the outside world.

Not that you cared too much – sure, the excitement going around was making you curious, but they looked too handsome, almost to the extent that you found it intimidating. Ironically, the most intimidating you found Baekhyun. His then long dark hair with strands of red and a mullet hairstyle, the sharp green eyes, the pierced eyebrow, and the lip ring that made him look like a very attractive hooligan... The piercings turned out to be just as fake as the eye color, which did not disappoint you at all.

Funny enough, you only got to know this bad boy because he took a liking to retreating to the campus library. Hiding from all of the attention, of course. While some members of his clique actually basked in it, he preferred to disappear to the remote aisles of the quiet space and read a book, or, more likely, sleep with one on his chest. You saw him like that often, since you were stuck in there yourself – essays for different classes were piling up rapidly. As a diligent student, you were determined to do well in your first year of university, so dragging yourself to the library to stay glued to your laptop was the best option.

Coincidentally, you also preferred to stay in the less lively spaces, as you tended to seek peace and quiet to focus on your assignments. Your attention span… wasn’t impressive, to say the least, so you did your best to avoid any distractions. However, you didn’t count on a certain sleep lover to be one of them.

It was not the first day you spent close enough to notice the tranquil expression he wore on his face as he was snoozing. It was, however, the first time he caught you staring mindlessly in his direction. Burning the deepest shade of red in your cheeks, you grabbed your books and quickly made yourself scarce, thanking heavens for the multiple aisles of books around. You walked around for ten minutes or so, actually placing your books back where they belonged and finding a secluded corner to check out what else was on the shelves. Squinting, you tried to read the name of the tome that had gotten your attention, and raised your arm to get it from the level that was clearly too high for you. Thankfully, someone reached over your head and helped you obtain the book. You turned around to say thank you but instead were suddenly pushed back into the shelf by the taller figure with neat red strands. Speechless, you only held your book close and gaped at him, as he leaned forward.

‘Ever heard about the cat killed by curiosity?’ He hummed, eyes piercing you from above.

You swallowed, knees getting weaker as you registered the fresh musky smell coming off of his brightly colored shirt.

To push your buttons, he decided to get even more scandalously close to you, arm holding onto the rack behind you to keep balance.

‘Nothing wrong with being curious!’ You jabbered. ‘In fact, if people preserved the curiosity they have as kids they would’ve had a much bigger learning capacity as adults.’

He huffed. You weren’t sure if he was shocked or amused, because your eyes looked anywhere but his face. In fact, they lowered enough to fix on your forearm, resting across his rib cage, and your fist pressing slightly into his pec to keep him at least at a minimal distance.

At this you gasped, eyes widening and returning to his face, only to catch an inquisitive spark in his retinas as he nudged the lip ring with his tongue. Sighing, he took a step back, finally allowing some space between you.

‘Can’t write a philosophy essay with this, little flower,’ he chuckled. ‘Or if you can… I’d be impressed.’

You looked down in confusion, understanding that the book you were holding was from a Botanics section. ‘The Oxford Book of Wild Flowers’, read the title.

But… How did he know about your philosophy assignment?

***

Only later had Baekhyun confessed that he had had an eye on you for a while by the time this incident took place, but the moment of your outburst was what got to him. When he looked down at your cornered form, holding a book to your chest so innocently, and keeping him away instinctively with one arm. He had to bite his tongue to prevent a smile from making its way onto his face. That was it for him, and even though he wanted to avoid you and keep interactions with you to an absolute minimum, he couldn’t help but find ways to draw your attention. Like that one time, when you walked out of the library because the loud noises from the outside made your concentration for the night crumble.

The source of that noise was, in fact, a certain convertible, blasting the music for the entire campus to hear. You would have come up to complain that your studying was cut short if you didn’t have perfect eyesight. It allowed you to see that there was a red-haired problem sat in the car, with a bare foot resting lazily against the panel. Ready to run the other way, you turned around, meeting a solid chest with your forehead. You discovered that it was a rather cheerful guy in the same year as you, Jongin, and the other one with him was Sehun. And those two stalled you long enough for Baekhyun to make an entrance.

It was the first time he tried asking you out. And got rejected.

However, as much as you wanted to take ownership of that and say that you were playing hard to get when you walked off and left him stunned by your refusal, that was not the case. This guy made your throat go dry at the mere sight of him! He was way too handsome, and he also looked kind of… well, he looked like he’d break your heart without thinking twice about it. And that you couldn’t allow.

But then again, good girls do tend to fall for bad boys. Or was he only pretending to be bad? You’d never heard anything that discredited him, except for the way he stared people down sometimes. That once happened to a fellow student in your class. After he sat next to you during lunch.

Actually, almost the entire week following that incident you had lunch alone because everyone kept making excuses to sit elsewhere. That was how you became friends with Jongin and Sehun. Having had a few classes together, you were more or less acquainted with each other, so you didn’t mind when Jongin suddenly appeared out of nowhere with a tray and asked you if they could join. He even had lunch with you when Sehun wasn’t around – you figured that it made Jongin even more chatty. So much so, that one day he leaned across the table to get slightly closer, and used his most clandestine voice on you.

‘You know, hyung could burn a hole in anyone next to you with his glare, but I’m immune to his ‘charms’, thankfully,’ he giggled and added, ‘Still, I think you should give him a chance. Baekhyun’s a good guy, and he’s kinda torn as it is. Asking you out was a pretty big step for him.’

Honestly, you had a hard time believing that. Baekhyun… was probably the kind of guy, who never even had to ask. You could look around and easily spot a dozen eyes that were fixed on him at this very moment. Why in the world would he want to date you, clearly not the ‘easy-going’ party type? He probably wanted to get into your pants just for sport, like the rest of the pretty boys.

‘Whatever you’re thinking, it’s far from the truth. Ugh, Junmyeon will kill me for this!’ Jongin cursed himself and continued, before you could ask. ‘Hyung looks rough around the edges, but he’s really a softie. Trust me on this.’

‘Are you his wingman or something?’ You snorted dubiously, getting a little timid from this discussion.

‘Ha, are you kidding? He’s gonna strangle me if he finds out. Like I said, he’s torn between staying away from you and persisting in his efforts to take you out. Just think about it,’ he ended with an attempted (but failed) wink.

As if to take away your chance to process the unexpected input, Jongin shoved Baekhyun in your direction the very next day. Disappearing from the cafeteria right after, of course. Envy his subtlety. But, apparently, what he said earlier had an effect, so you only nodded when a flustered figure asked for permission to sit with you. He looked quite different from the previous times you saw him up close – much less confident and intimidating. But he seemed sincere when he said he just wanted one chance.

And that was how your relationship picked up. It took a whirlwind course from the very beginning, and the hot summer before your second year of university was the most torturous time ever for the both of you. Still wary of getting played, you only trusted Baekhyun enough to get intimately close months and months into dating. And he was patient with you, going at a slow pace, letting you pull away whenever you wanted. Until you didn’t want to anymore.

That last leap of faith was a beginning in itself – a true beginning of you and Baekhyun. The final seal was broken, and you entrusted yourself fully to him, which he repaid by showering you in his affection and feelings that he himself had not come to acknowledge just then.

After a year together, you were not simply allowed into the inner circle, but also educated about the special abilities that Baekhyun and his friends had. You were first interrogated by their leader, Junmyeon, who wanted to make sure you had no ulterior motives and were not going to tell a living soul about them. He called it ‘a quick chat’ as he dragged you in a scarcely furnished room where he sat you down at the small metal table across from him. The leader asked you questions and tried reading your verbal and non-verbal cues, so it was clearly an interrogation. Junmyeon was pretty experienced in this, so he could instantly tell that you were harmless. And you also passed the test, answering the most ridiculous questions about Baekhyun – apparently, that was to make sure you were not ‘faking it’ – so, he accepted you into their family.

However, knowing too much was dangerous, so you only learned about their powers and how they came from the so-called EXO Planet when they were young (talk about dating an alien!), and that the organization they called ‘the Red’ amongst themselves wanted to hunt them down. They also used to be held hostage by these people – and that was just about as much you knew about the issue because Baekhyun kept you away from the ‘unnecessary details’. He only told you that they seemed to be hidden well in this town, surrounded by just enough people to blend in and disappear. And you worried, always, because you knew too little about the dangers surrounding the group, and even less about how you could contribute to their safety.

Baekhyun laughed when you once brought it up, finding your concern nothing but cute.

‘You don’t have to worry about it, flower. It’s my job to make sure you’re safe, not the other way around,’ he then said, playing with the curly ends of your hair.

You frowned at that. Why was it not your job to take care of him? If you could help, you wanted to help. But he always brushed you off, saying that the only thing you should do to help is staying out of trouble. Like that was a challenge – you either studied or hung out with him and his friends, not much room to stir trouble. The only other person you talked to regularly was your roommate, and she was also pretty harmless.

As time went by, you got closer to your own graduation, basically, one year left before you had to figure it out for yourself again. Your boyfriend was always supportive, but you couldn’t help but wonder how he imagined your future. He was always up to something but never shared it with you since it was ‘nothing for you to worry about’. Had he not shown you his actual abilities before, you would’ve certainly thought that it was a crazy lie he told you to cover up for some kind of illegal activity. In reality, some illegal activities were going on, especially since hacking and cracking was one of Minseok’s specialties (but mostly because they needed to keep their identities out of sight). Another reason why they didn’t all go to the same school when they arrived, and also why they changed their appearance ever so often. The lucky mullet was long gone by the time you had your first Christmas together, and you had had the pleasure of seeing him in multiple hair colors throughout almost three years of your relationship. Notably, the first dozen or so make-out sessions you had with him took place when he had just cut his hair and dyed it pitch black. And he still wore his fake lip ring at the time, which was an experience in itself. He did know how to use his mouth…

Admittedly, you were kind of used to being the object of the boys’ shameless teasing every time you hung out together. The way Baekhyun kept you close and fussed about everything was, apparently, atypical for their usually chill and humorous hyung. He was their second-in-command, after all, the genius behind the strategic planning of the group, and the mind that kept them hidden for so long in one place.

Because of you.

One of the boys had previously let it slip that they hadn’t lived anywhere for that long before, maybe not even for one full year. But this time Baekhyun was determined to stay for a while, now that he had an anchor.

But the day came. When he found out that they might’ve been compromised, he got scared. The way he’d never feared anything before. And he’d been through a lot, to put it mildly. Baekhyun could maintain a cold and sharp mind at all times, that was his thing, but not when it came to you. Once he figured out that there was a real chance, that they could’ve found the EXO hideout and, thus, could connect you to the boys, he couldn’t think straight. Overwhelmed by a sudden panic, he sought advice from the leader.

‘You know it’s not me who’s supposed to decide,’ Junmyeon sighed, looking at his disheveled second. ‘I told you a relationship wasn’t a good idea. I also think that keeping her close means putting her life in jeopardy.’

His words were cutting through Baekhyun as he paced the room, long fingers grasping his own hair.

‘But it still may be a safer option than leaving her here,’ the leader added, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘We need to relocate fast, and you have the ‘better of two evils’ situation on your hands.’

‘I know I should leave her,’ Baekhyun stopped in his tracks, turning his head to the leader. ‘But what if they already know, hyung?’

‘Minseok had every trace of her erased, not a single camera in town had a glimpse of her with you. They might have found our footprints in the sand, but those don’t necessarily lead to her. I suppose they should move on as soon as they come here and realize that we’re nowhere around.’

‘Most likely, but what if-’

‘They can very well catch up to us while we run. Like I said, there isn’t a right answer, but a choice. And I think that you’ve already made it when you should give her a voice, too,’ the leader pushed.

‘I-’ Baekhyun turned away to hide the glassy eyes from Junmyeon. ‘I have to give her a chance, hyung. I cannot sentence her to a lifetime of running and danger. And I know she’s silly enough to throw herself into it if she has a say in this.’

‘And if you’re wrong? You’re going to break her heart as a precaution?’

‘She won’t die from a broken heart. Can you imagine what they’d do to her if they find out?’

Junmyeon bit his lip. This time, the choice was completely out of his hands. He thought his second was making a mistake, but it was not his place to decide. Exhaling again, he nodded.

‘Tell her in the morning. We’re moving out as soon as the rain starts.’

>> Chapter 2

A/N: So, what do you think? This is more of an introductory chapter, I know, but it covers quite a lot of their relationship with Baek. You must be excited to see where this goes and when Baёk appears? Or if Baekhyun is coming back? Me too, me too 🙈

#baekhyun smut #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun x you #baekhyun #exowritersnet #icequeenbae fics #x exo #Desert Flower #2baek #baekbaёk #exo fanfiction #baekhyun fanfic

206 notes · View notes

wanderinginksplot · 3 years

Note

Hi! Coul you do a Hunter x Jedi FemReader fluff. Myybe They are reunited after a long time and they hang out in secret.

Hey! It took a few days, but here’s where this prompt took me:

Hunter + Jedi F!Reader + Fluff

“Steady!”

“Watch the far side - it’s tipping!”

“We need another few troopers over here to help balance it!”

“It’s too heavy!”

“Stop, men,” you ordered, your calm voice cutting through the clamor with ease. “Let me get it.”

Lifting the heavy crate with the Force was simple, one of the first things you had learned to do in the Temple. From there, transporting it to the correct section of the hangar wasn’t any more difficult, and you accomplished the task with ease.

“Still showing off, General?” a rough voice asked from just behind your ear.

You turned around, already smiling at the familiar face. “Sergeant Hunter,” you greeted. “I had no idea you were on-planet.”

He shrugged, the movement flowing with grace that would have made even a Jedi jealous. “We picked up a new member for the Batch. We needed to have him cleared on Coruscant before we could risk taking him into action.”

“And?” you asked, already thinking about how you could help. Force-healing wasn’t your strong suit, but you could pull a few strings to get the right padawan to the GAR headquarters. If Hunter needed something, you would do everything in your power to get it for him. He had saved your life often enough to deserve that dedication from you.

“And he’ll be fine,” Hunter reassured you. Gesturing to the flurry of men working to unload your gunships - each one painted with a flattering caricature of your profile with a lightsaber held out in front of you - he asked, “How did the mission go?”

You shrugged. “It went as well as can be expected, I suppose.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means- Well, it…” you sighed. “This war never seems to have a true victory. There are always losses, and those sacrifices don’t always make sense given what little is accomplished in return.”

Hunter raised an eyebrow. “That’s what we’re made for. Sacrificing.”

You hated hearing that, no matter how often it had been repeated by the Kaminoans, the GAR, and the Jedi Council. These men weren’t a product and their lives weren’t something they should expect to lose simply because they had been created rather than born. They had names and personalities, painted their armor with patterns in your favorite color, and some troopers even asked for permission to use your handprint in their designs. Hunter’s casual defense of what you saw as the fatal flaw of the Jedi Order made your stomach lurch and your spirits drop.

“So they keep telling me,” you agreed, mustering a smile for Hunter. “It was a pleasure seeing you, Sergeant. It has been far too long.”

"Wait," Hunter called and you paused in turning away. "What did I say?"

His earnest question only served to make you feel worse. "Nothing, Hunter. The problem seems to be with me. I just need some time away from the war, the loss."

Hunter's eyes cut a neat contrast against the darkness of his tattoo. "I can't help much, but how about some time spent with an old friend?"

"I have to go make my report to the Council," you hedged.

"After that, then," Hunter suggested. "I'm not gonna twist your arm about it, but you're the one who said it's been too long since we saw each other."

You gave a small smile at that. "That's true. Meet me at Dex's Diner tonight?"

"Comm me when you're leaving the Temple," Hunter instructed, giving a respectful nod as the two of you parted.

As soon as you had finished with your report and washed the grime of a long mission from your skin, you contacted Hunter and started your journey to Dex’s Diner. The small restaurant had been a Coruscant staple for years, but it had recently seen a huge surge in business. Not only did Dex make fantastic food, but he served meals to anyone who wanted to buy them. The Besalisk had a firm open-door policy, especially where clone troopers were concerned. Off-duty clone troopers were a common sight in the diner, laughing and mingling with Coruscanti civilians.

Hunter was already inside, having secured a booth tucked away in the corner. While clone troopers were far from rare at Dex’s Diner, Jedi were seen less often, especially since the war had begun.

Still, you slid into the booth across from Hunter and gave your usual order to the serving droid. Surreptitiously, you input your credit information as well, paying for the entire meal before it had the chance to deliver a total.

“What is that smile?” Hunter asked, offering one of his own.

“Nothing,” you said, waving off his question. “So, what have you and Clone Force 99 been up to since I saw you last?”

Hunter blew out a breath. “It’s been - what? A year since we saw you?”

“Yes, nearly that,” you agreed, trying to keep the edge of sadness from your voice. Early in the war, you had been on a series of missions with the Bad Batch and had planned to keep working with them, but a member of the Jedi Council had sensed your attachment when you returned planetside. You had been reassigned and ordered to cut ties with the enhanced troopers before the attachment grew stronger.

You had reluctantly done as you were told, but saying goodbye to Clone Force 99 had been difficult. In retrospect, that was likely a good sign that you were indeed getting attached to these troopers. However, that hadn’t stopped you from meeting Hunter today, the first time you had ran into him since following that order. It was with a surge of guilt that you realized you had taken care not to let any other occupants of the Temple see you leave. You hadn’t wanted them to ask where you were going…

“Hey,” Hunter said sharply, drawing your attention back to him. “Where did you go?”

“Nowhere in particular,” you excused yourself. “I’m sorry, I missed what you said.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Hunter told you. “I just sat here and watched you get lost in your own head. Stay out of there. After all, I don’t get to see you every day.”

“Fair enough,” you conceded. “How have things been going for you out there?”

Hunter shrugged. “Pretty well. We haven’t found another Jedi who works with us as well as you did, but the few we’ve been assigned to have been competent.”

From Hunter, that was high praise indeed. “And who have you been assigned to?”

“Well…” he mused, “We did a few missions with General Unduli and you know we usually work with Commander Cody and General Kenobi. We did just finish a mission with General Skywalker, though.”

“And how did that go?” you asked, smiling at the thought of the GAR’s most unorthodox squad working with the Jedi Order’s most unorthodox Knight.

Hunter rolled his eyes dramatically and launched into the story of rescuing one of Skywalker’s troopers who had been captured by the Separatists. It was horrifying to think of one of the Republic’s soldiers in enemy captivity for so long, but Hunter nearly had your sides splitting when he talked about Captain Rex brawling with Crosshair, Tech leaping onto the back of some winged creature, and Wrecker demolishing an entire Separatist fleet.

“I bet Wrecker was thrilled!” you said to the last point, still laughing.

“He was, of course,” Hunter agreed, sending a soft smile your way. “He’ll forever be looking for ways to top that mission, so I guess I have Skywalker to thank for that.”

“Oh, I needed this,” you sighed, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye.

“Want to talk about it?” Hunter asked. “I get the feeling you haven’t been happy about much lately.”

“Oh-” you stammered, his insight stunning you for a moment. “I don’t know if there’s any particular reason…”

“If you had to think of one, then,” Hunter suggested.

You blew out a thoughtful breath, trying to gather a year’s worth of abstract thoughts and quickly stifled smiles into a cohesive summary. “It’s… hm. It doesn’t feel… right, to laugh and joke when soldiers like you and your brothers are working so hard and so seriously to win battles. It seems- seems almost like ignoring their sacrifices. People are dying every moment, and being happy feels… frivolous, somehow?”

“You aren’t sacrificing people, if it makes you feel any better,” Hunter told you consolingly. “Just clones.”

You had stood from the table before you knew what had happened. Hunter stared up at you in surprise, a rare expression from a man whose senses allowed him to predict behaviors so well.

“I don’t think this meeting was a good idea,” you told him bluntly. “I’ll see you later.”

“Wait-” Hunter started, trying to rise from the table, but he was interrupted by the arrival of the serving droid. The droid, oblivious to things such as tense silences, began busily unloading its tray of food onto the table, its position trapping Hunter in his seat.

You watched in silence as the table was set to the precise specifications that the droid had been programmed to deliver. Hunter, avoiding your gaze, fiddled with his silverware, ruining the droid's perfect symmetry with only a touch.

When the droid had finished and rolled away, Hunter looked up at you, confusion and guilt mingling on his face. He gestured to your plate. "Please?"

You eased back into the seat after a moment of thought. Hunter couldn't know why you were upset if you didn't give him the benefit of an explanation.

To give yourself a moment of thought, you unfolded your napkin and spread it across your lap. When you were done, you made direct and unblinking eye contact with Hunter. "It hurts me when you talk about the troopers like their lives have less meaning. Like they deserve nothing more than death to achieve a goal."

"That's what we were told all our lives," Hunter countered carefully. "At least the regs were told they could die in sacrifice for the Republic. We were told that we deserved to die because we were different."

The disgust and self-loathing in Hunter's last word made you reach out and cover his hand with yours. You made no effort to influence him - you respected him far too much for that - but you tried to convey your sympathy with a touch.

"And now you know that isn't true in the slightest," you reminded him. "I can't change a moment of your past, but we can all impact our shared present to create the future we deserve."

Hunter's warm fingers flexed under yours as he flipped his hand over to weave your fingers together.

"That's why you're the Jedi we keep asking to be assigned to," he said with a fond smile. "You don't see us for what we can do for you, for the Republic. You just see us."

You raised your eyebrows at that, your heart feeling lighter than it had since the early days of the war. "As if the Bad Batch could be tied to a single Jedi…"

"For you?" Hunter pretended to think about it. "I think we could give it a try."

With a shared smile, the two of you turned your attention to the food you had ordered. Neither of you commented on your hands, still intertwined on the table between you.

---

A/N - I originally had a different ending in mind, but I liked this one too much to change it. I’ll leave it up to you to decide what happens when Hunter realizes that you’ve already paid for your food!

Thanks for the request, @dreamingofclones! I hope you enjoyed!

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars the bad batch #star wars fanfiction #star wars fic #swtcw #tcw #tbb hunter #sergeant hunter #hunter #hunter x reader #clone force 99 #jedi reader #fic request

262 notes · View notes

vrsin · 3 years

Text

Heyyyyy~~~~~ Enno~~~ @twilightpoison @cafecourage

For the lovely drawing you made me!

Here is you Sky fic!!!

Hope you like it! Love you~~~ <3

~~~~~~~~~

Above in the heavens, there weren't any clouds to cover the breathtaking view. One would be terrified being this high in the sky, not able to see the ground below.

Though you couldn't help but sit on the edge with your legs dangling staring at the scene in front of you. No wonder Sky was so excited to show you all his lovely home of Skyloft, it was godly and so beautiful.

The Chain had arrived in Sky’s Hyrule a couple of weeks ago, the portal dropping them.

As in really dropping them, from the sky.

No one was expecting to walk through the portal to then just free fall in the air. Though it caused some unforgettable reactions from the chain!

Legend was spinning around in circles holding down his tunic to not accidentally flash anyone in the chain.

Warrior, oh warrior was the victim to be flashed at. His voice going so high pitched you would think a young girl had the scare of her life! In this case though, you wouldn't be wrong.

Hyrule was flapping his arms in the air while yelling, “GOOD GREAT FAIRY! GIVE ME MY WINGS!” no one knew what he meant.

Four and Wind were holding on to each other as they cursed like they have never cursed before. Even ending each other's sentences with very creative curses! It would have been very impressive in a normal situation.

Wild was going through his Sheikah Slate as he kept yelling about finding his paraglider. “WHERE THE FUCK IS THE DUMB THING THAT WILL SAVE MY LIFE?!?! I DID NOT SLEEP 100 YEARS TO DIE LIKE THIS!”

Twilight was holding on to the hair of Time as he was spitting out hair and fur from his fur pelt, pretty sure some got into his mouth and caused him to choke a few times.

Time….

Well, Time was just standing straight, arms crossed over his chest, face blank. “I’m not surprised.”

Yeahhhhhhhhh…. You might need to talk to Time after this, that...that's just not normal-

You! On the other hand, were reacting how a normal person should react, yelling your lungs off holding on to the closest thing you could grab, in this case. Sky.

Your arms wrapped around Sky’s torso, eyes closed with fear, you were thinking if this is where you were gonna die. You should tell Sky how you feel. “SKY!” Yelling over the sound of rushing wind you opened your eyes to look up at him, to tell him how you feel while staring at his ocean blue eyes.

You expected to see a nervous and fearful-looking Sky, but yeah that's not what you got.

Sky was smiling so wide you thought he would rip his skin from smiling so big!

You really thought he lost it.

“I- WHY ARE YOU SMILING??” He didn't answer you as he lifted his hands to his lips to only let out the loudest whistle you've heard. Followed by the screeching of birds.

One by one each of the Chain was saved by multi-colored large birds. Looking over at Sky his smile never left his face as he brought you close to his chest. Soon a giant red bird flew under you two as you both landed on the soft pillow of feathers. The pure happy laughter Sky let out posed as a small distraction from the confusing events that just happened. The ginormous birds flew to an island floating in the sky. "We're here!" Sky's booming voice caught the attention of everyone in the chain.

"This is my home! Skyloft!"

~~~

Skyloft wasn't a very big place but it had its own charms to it, a sense of comfort. The chain was welcomed with open arms as everything was provided to them to ensure their utmost comfort. Sky happily showing around walking through every inch and crevice of his home, his goofy lovable smile never leaving his face.

His face was so soft and filled with love while showing everyone his home, showing you his home. Introducing you all to every single person of Skyloft including Sun and Goose. Now everyone, after a small celebration, are fast asleep in their rooms.

Everyone except you, who is watching the spectacular view. Dressed in comfortable pajamas provided to you. The wind softly brushes against you as the soft chill that was not uncomfortable. The air up is so crisp and fresh compared to the land below.

"What are you doing alone?"

You stop at the sudden voice behind you but shyly turn around coming face what's a smiling Sky. His smile never once wavered when he was back home.

"I'm just enjoying the view"

"Yeah, the view is really gorgeous isn't it…". You don't notice that he was looking at you as he said the statement. He coughed a bit to clear his throat, "How are you liking it here in Skyloft so far?"

Looking over at him, you couldn't help but stare a little bit at his charming face. "Honestly, it's amazing. Everyone here is so friendly, they act like one giant family. The views are absolutely gorgeous and not to mention the lovely birds you all have!" Laughter was shared between the two of you, as you both unintentionally scooted just a bit closer to each other.

Sky's cheeks tinted a bit of pink raising his hand to rub the back of his neck. "I… um. I can show you the spot with the best view?" Poor boy's face was so red. Your face soon copied the same shade. "I… I would like that."

Standing up he presents his hand for you to take, his head turned to the side. Softly taking his hand he takes it upon himself to intertwine your fingers.

You could feel the calluses and scars on his hand which are no longer covered by the gloves, though the warmth of his hand was overpowering. A comforting warm feeling, a feeling that you welcomed with open arms.

Looking over the edge he squeezes your hand.

"You trust me?"

Without hesitation, you answered.

"Always."

You both fell off the edge.

~~~

Sky's Loftwing had dropped you both off on top of the goddess statue. Sky was right about the view, you could see everything! Not just all the skyloft but everything further beyond. The wind breeze was soft and it wasn't even cold.

"I… I have no words." Sky smiled at your response. "I'm happy you like it here."

A nervous chuckle and cough followed up with Sky pulling out his harp from behind his back. You chuckle a bit, "I didn't realize you had that!" Walking a bit closer to you he looks at the strings, "I have a song that I've been meaning to play, do you mind if I share it with you?" Feeling honored he asked you of course you said yes..

Softly beginning to pluck the strings of the harp he did the unexpected, he began to sing.

"I used to hear a simple song."

His soft voice perfectly matched the elegance of the harp.

"That was until you came along." Plucking at the strings he would look up to you as he continued to sing.

"Now in its place is something new." He seemed to gain confidence, as his voice began to sing louder. Him walking closer to you.

"I hear it when I look at you."

He looked up at you with nothing but love.

A smile gracing his face when he knew he has your full attention. "With simple songs, I wanted more. Perfection is so quick to bore."

Walking even closer over to you he softly caresses your cheek stopping to play the harp for a second

"You are my beautiful by far."

Smiling softly he goes back to playing the harp, "our flaws are who we really are."

Taking a deep breath he isn't afraid to sing his whole soul into this song, "I used to hear a simple song!"

His eyes never leaving you his smile growing wider soft pink flushing over his cheeks and ears. "That was until you came along!"

Tears couldn't help escape both of your eyes. You both realize the hidden meaning of the song, "you took my broken melody!"

The way that Sky looks at you is filled with so much love and compassion. If anyone were to overlook this loving scene. They will mistake it as two star-crossed lovers finally confessing their love for each other, but in reality. They're not wrong.

"And now I hear a symphony…"

Sky stopped playing the harp now his own voice continuing to be the elegant instrument. You weren't complaining, his voice was always your favorite instrument.

"Now I hear a symphony..."

You were both so vulnerable to each other, the way that you were looking at each other. The song fresh in both of your minds.

His hands shaking he went up to caress your cheek, you grabbed his hand and placed it on your cheek to reassure him. The choked-out laugh, his large smile filled with happiness including his tears of joy, sent the full message to you.

Wrapping your arms around each other never breaking eye contact.

Your eyes softly fluttered.

As your lips finally connect.

The kiss is so soft and filled with true love. The love you hold for each other.

Sadly ending the kiss, your foreheads placed together. Your arms never stopped holding each other.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

#linked universe #lu sky #linked universe x reader #I DID IT!#LOVE YOU!#PAYBACK!#linkeduniverse

64 notes · View notes

deepdonutkid · 3 years

Text

Buy me a drink and let me tell you why I need it

Authors note

Thank you very much for the request @caelys I had fun writing it and actually I thought about modern!au John way too much. Like I made a model for his apartment and a playlist and I could possibly draw ten more fan arts of him.

It takes place in a modern setting, but it starts before John goes to the military. He and Tommy still work in the Garrison, besides some other shadier jobs. Arthur is a car mechanic or something like that. Ada still goes to school and Finn too. Polly and Michael are not mentioned here.

Female reader x bartender!John BIG PUNK VIBES HERE!

Actually, this was going to be a multi-chapter fic with intense slow-burn, but whatever there it is. Just say one thing and I’ll write a second part!

tagging @bonniesgoldengirl

Warning: drinking, drug use, marijuana, swearing, infidelity mentioned, a little bittersweet

Word count: 2348

The garrison was not a pub for everyone. It was full of gangsters and other low-life scum. A woman was a curiosity. Working there wasn’t pleasant, but John didn’t complain.

It was the only legal job he got after graduating. He worked at the Garrison twice a week, usually on Friday and Saturday.

The nice thing about this work was the free beer and he could make as many cigarette breaks as he liked.

Nevertheless, John was a little pissed that night, because he could see his friends drinking over there and he had to stand behind the counter. Tommy’s orders!

“Fuck off, Tommy”, he mumbled while cleaning bar. Of course, his brother didn’t hear that, he was busy making some phone calls. John didn’t want to know, who Tommy was calling or why. Probably their next job.

But while he was still on the first one, he didn’t want to think about more work. He already had enough. It was past ten and John hadn’t eaten for hours.

At first, he was to occupied from his work to notice you. You sat down at the bar and cleared your throat. It wasn’t on purpose or to get the bartenders attention. Actually, you just wanted your peace. You hated being trapped in your new apartment, while everything was still so empty. Since you moved, so much changed in your life, but you still felt lonely.

That’s why, you walked straight into the nearest pub, when you couldn’t bear the weight of your own thoughts. But now you realized you hadn’t a penny left. Or at least not enough for a beer. “Get me a glass of water please.”, you said to the bartender, who kept starring at you. First you thought he was a little weird and also a little intimidating, but then you understood what he expected from you. An order, of course.

“A glass of water?”, he asked with a grin on his face: “Really? You know, where you are, girl?”

Now you looked confused. Maybe there was an unspoken rule, to not order a soft drink in this place, but how you should know? After all, you’ve been pretty new to Small Heath. Three days ago you moved into your new place. It was small, but it was yours. Your private space and your sanctuary. “A pub… maybe?”, you joked: “So what about the water?”

“Ah, I get it… It’s the end of month.”, he responded.

You laughed and shook your head. “I’m always broke. Money is not my thing.”

“Not mine either.”

Now he got your attention. You took a closer look at the bartender. He was somehow handsome. A pretty face for a fucked-up place like this. Then you noticed the tattoos on his arms, that peaked out of the sleeves of his shirt. “Dead Kennedys. Nice”, you mumbled and smiled slightly, barely visible.

He put a filled glass in front of you and smirked. “No need to pay.”

Your eyes widened. That bartender really surprised you. He was nicer than he looked like. You took a sip from the glass and nodded. “Thanks… I guess.”

The water was okay, but everything you wished for was a beer or a whiskey. Something to stop your brain from thinking. However, you nipped the glass very patiently, because you didn’t want to leave this place too soon. You didn’t know the neighborhood and chances were high, you got lost on your way around town.

The bartender seemed to notice your tension. “Do you want to drink something else?”

“A beer would be nice.” You croaked

The handsome man behind the bar nodded and pulled out a pint. “A beer, it is.”

You didn’t know it yet, but you were the only thing tonight, that made his work bearable. Everything else was so boring and you were new in town. Every little thing about you was so exciting for him. Staring with the fact that you stumbled into the Garrison without knowing its reputation. Then your little comment about his shirt, yes, he heard that. And your overall appearance was just the cherry on top.

The leather jacket, the ripped jeans and your washed-out Kurt Cobain shirt said a lot about you and John was ready to listen. What else should he do in the next couple of hours until his shift ended?

“I’m John.”, he said and served you a beer.

You noticed the twinkle with his eye and replied with a shy smile. “Just call me Y/n”

The two of you shook hands and exchanged a strange glance. Was he flirting with you? No, of course not, you brushed it off. It was part of his job, to be nice to his customers.

After a few sips of your beer, you calmed down a bit, but not enough. You fumbled in the inside pocket of your jacket for your package. You smoked Dunhill and probably started way to early in life. An end of your smoking addiction was not in sight. The package was already half empty, when you opened it.

“Fuck” you cursed and signed. How could you make it to your next pay check with just a few cigarettes left? Maybe skip dinner a few times.

“Cigarettes are empty too?” he asked “I would give you one of mine, but they are empty too.”

“No, I still have some left, but not enough until July. Maybe not even enough for the rest of this night.”, you explained.

You took two out of the package and put it back. “Want one? I don’t have money, but at least I still have something to smoke.”

“Whatcha smoking?” “Dunhill”, you answered.

A wide grin appeared on his face. “Me too.”

“I know, I shouldn’t… but I just can’t quit.” You shrugged and lit your cigarette.

John brushed it off. “Fuck em. I think, I’m never gonna quit too. This shit just stays with you forever.”

“True”, you signed and took a deep drag from your cigarette.

“So… why am I the only girl in this place? Is there something I should know?”

“Nah, not really. It’s just…”, he began to explain, but then paused to smoke. You liked how he leaned against the counter. Like there was no cooler person in this room. “I don’t know… most women don’t like it here. Too filthy or whatever.”

You nodded and looked around. Everything smelled like ashtray and whiskey. There was dirt lying around. Nobody seemed to bother, so you chose not to either.

“And you are new in Birmingham?”, he asked: “All the locals know to stay away from this place.”

Again, you nodded and hid your smile behind your hand. “I just grabbed my bass and some clothes and left.”

“Bass?” Now, John was hooked. Since he could walk and talk, he had a thing for music. Especially rock and punk and he blabber about his favorite bands all day. Of course, he never learned to play an instrument, because his family was too poor, but he stole every record he could lay hands on. “You play bass?”

“Yeah, I can also play guitar, but I sold mine to get here. I started playing in a band now and I really hope this is going to work out… somehow.”, you explained

“Maybe.”, he said: “I can ask Harry, if you can play here. Live music would be great.”

You beamed and jumped almost over the counter. “Really?”

“But I need to listen to a song first. Otherwise, I can’t do it with good conscience.”

“Yeah, sure thing! When I get the promo tape, I’ll come back here.” Finally, some good news for you. After all you went though you really needed that and right now you just couldn’t stop smiling.

Three beers later, you were already in an in-depth discussion about music and which bands paved the way for punk.

After six more beers, you danced to the song he put on. John watched you with the purest joy. Nobody has ever danced in the Garrison. Good for him, that Tommy left, because “something important” occurred.

On beer twelve you sang for all the man to watch. The Shelby just could take his eyes off you, even when you didn’t hit the right tone.

He even caught you, when you fell over the counter.

But in the end the bar had to close and you still had nowhere to go, so you waited for him to finish his work. It took twice as long, because John kept staring at you in awe.

After everything was done, he asked, if he should walk you home and you agreed. Actually, you didn’t say yes, you hugged him and rubbed your cheek against his. Then you made a purring sound and told him your address.

You even hold hands with him, but that was mainly, because you were to drunk to walk straight. But you had plenty of time to sober up along the way.

Finally arriving at the front door, you had to stop laughing and catch a breath to manage to say something. “Do you…”, you began and paused, because you didn’t know how to phrase it.

Without hesitation he answered: “Yes! Yes… I mean, it would be cool.”

And again, you started laughing. “I was about to ask, if you want to watch the stars on my rooftop, but I didn’t know you were going to be so excited about this.”

He scratched his neck and chuckled. “Yeah, we were talking about the same thing.”

“Oh honey, I’m taken”, you explained

That last three words crumbled his hopes, that have been build up since you walked into the Garrison.

But he was a gentleman and he shouldn’t expect anything from a woman. After all, you don’t owe him anything. Even though he thought you were flirting with him the entire night.

He just bit his lip and shrugged. “No problem here.”

Then he added: “But we might not see the stars though all the smog and light pollution.”

“Let’s give it a try.” you opened the door and smiled.

You took the steps up to your apartment, John followed you closely. When the two of you entered the small flat, everything was still dark. The alarm clock next to your mattress said four in the morning.

John was so curious, when he looked around. “You really didn’t lie, when you said, you just took you bass and nothing more.”

“Yup”, you mumbled and walked to a pile of clothes. “Do you want to smoke one with me?”

When you pulled out the joint, John grinned at you. His cheeks were still red. “Why not?”

Climbing out of your window and onto the roof sounded way easier than it turned out to be.

But the view was great, and that was enough.

You lit the joint and inhaled the white smoke, just to blow it out again.

“No stars in sight, babe”, he noted while looking up

He was right, but you were still glad, that he came up here with you. You feared the moment of being alone again. “Yes, but the view… is amazing.”

You didn’t notice, he was glaring at you when he said: “Yeah, it really is.”

Then you turned to him to pass him the joint.

John took one drag and coughed. “That shit’s strong.”

At first you tried not to laugh, but ended up giggling anyway.

“What?”, he asked with blunt curiosity.

When you calmed down, you had to tell him the joke that just crossed your mind: “I like my weed like my sex… keeps me paralyzed for a while.”

That was the last thing he thought he would hear from you. He would believe his ears, if he hadn’t starred at your lips the entire time. “Uhm, okay.”, he whispered and hit the joint one more time.

The longer you sat there with him, the more comfortable you two got. After talking the whole night about music and artists and stuff, you finally opened up.

You told him why you left your home town and moved to Birmingham.

And he told you in return something you would have expected either. “Just a few more months and I’ll be in the military.”

John didn’t look like a soldier or somebody who took pride in defending his country. You couldn’t understand, how a wonderful guy like him ended up serving the forces. It just didn’t seem to fit in. But then again, you knew him for a few hours now, so who are you to judge?

“I’m scared”, he whispered: “that nobody but my family will write me… and I’m going to be all alone in the middle of nowhere.”

That feeling was all too familiar for you. Your heart ached, when you glared at him. “I write you.”, you promised. “And phone you and what else.”

“You would?” His voice was full of doubt. “We don’t know each other really.”

It was true, but you always kept your promises. You moved closer to him, to hold his hand and look him in the eyes. “I would. I know this feeling too well.”

For one second you thought he was going to kiss you, and you were ready. The drumroll played, like it always did, when the first touch of two pairs of lips, unknown to each other, was close. But the drumroll was all you were going to get tonight. You kept staring at his beautiful mouth and how would it feel, when his lips meet yours. Infidelity has never been your thing and you would stay true to yourself, even when the chance was so tempting.

“Can you hold me?”, you asked, while avoiding his eyes. You felt pathetic for being so needy in front of a stranger, so you added: “Just for a while.”

John didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Instead, he just pulled you in arms and stroke your back.

The two of you felt all alone in this broken world, but right there you met and became friends. What a weird thing to happen.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky fookin blinders #peaky fucking blinders #john shelby x reader #john shelby x y/n #john shelby x you #female reader #peaky blinders modern au #joe cole

132 notes · View notes

bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

Text

Double Heart | Chapter Sixteen ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 3021

Warnings: None

A/n Every chapter, you all make me smile so much <3 Thank you!

Haldir leaves and I let out something halfway between an exhale and a groan.

What. Was. That.

My room, which is a very respectable size, felt like a matchbox as the space between Haldir and I minimized. He went from weeks of keeping a consistent physical barrier between us to ghosting his hands over my arms, my hips, my waist…It’s…new.

And when he held me close, his chest so nearly brushing against my back—

I shake my head against the onslaught of scenarios that run through my mind.

I should not be thinking of him this way.

Haldir is a friend, a guide, an instructor, nothing more.

I let out a deep breath and begin to pace, trying to work off this newfound energy. Haldir and I trained for nearly two hours, I should be exhausted. Instead, I feel wide awake, invigorated, jittery, like I couldn’t possibly go to sleep. I groan, taking my hair out of its bun and letting it fall around me. I stop in my tracks, glancing at the spot where Haldir and I stood so close together just moments ago.

I cannot stay here.

I tear through the open door, turning right and taking the staircase that leads to the first floor. I turn left and, before I know it, I’m standing in front of Alex’s closed door.

I knock.

The door creaks open. “Hey,” he greets, opening it wider to allow me in. “What’s up?”

“I uh,” I purse my lips, having not really thought through my plan. I do need a distraction though, and being out of my room is already helping clear the fog from my brain. My eyes catch a pile of books on his nightstand. “I came to help you research, if that’s okay.”

His face lights up. “Yeah! Yeah, of course. I’ve read those three so far,” he gestures to a small stack by the window, “and there’s nothing helpful in them. Everything else in English is fair game. Is there anything specific you want to look into?”

“Fæs.” I’m surprised that the answer comes to me so easily, but as soon I speak the word, I know it’s true — I do want to learn more.

Alex nods slowly. “Yeah, okay, I think I’ve got a couple books on that here. Let me….” He trails off, spinning in a circle as he searches for a specific volume. “Ah.” He squats down and grabs a book near the foot of his bed, reaching it up to me.

An image of Haldir, crouched on the ground, hand warm against my ankle, staring up at me with such intensity, so much confidence—

Alex stands and I look to the ceiling, trying to will away the image and the feelings that come rushing along with it.

“What makes you want to learn about fæs? Isn’t that an elf thing?”

I purse my lips, stalling until the embarrassment fades enough to look Alex in the eye. “Haldir mentioned that humans have their own version of a fæ — a little weaker, a little different, but generally the same concept.” An idea begins to take form, and I roll with it. “I was wondering if—assuming that our fæs remained unchanged between our homeworld and Arda—well, if we could use it somehow, tap into it and reclaim our memories. If anything were to remember, wouldn’t it be our spirits?”

Alex nods slowly, a grin tugging at the edges of his lips. “That’s actually not a bad idea. Great thinking! Let me know if you find anything.”

He settles into the couch, leaving the bed for me. Gratefully, I cozy up against the pillows. I open the book, skimming the introductory chapter, which is basically just a summary of the core concepts Haldir has already explained to me. When I’m on chapter three, the sky passes firmly into night, and even the plethora of candles Alex has lit aren’t enough to keep my eyes from straining.

I pull my knees to my chest and lean forward, glancing over at my friend. His cheeks — which had been gaunt when we first reunited, now take a healthy shape. His shoulders no longer hold vestiges of tension — they lean relaxed, leisurely, against the back of the couch. Even in the limited light, he squints his eyes and continues to read, seeming intent on soaking up as much knowledge as he can.

I rest my chin on my knees. “I need to ask you something.”

He looks up, his eyebrows drawing together in concern. “Okay?”

“Are you alright?”

He sighs, shifting in his seat. “Cosima…”

“No,” I protest. I don’t care if it’s uncomfortable, he needs to talk about things. He’s been bottling it up since he arrived in this world and it hasn’t done anyone any good. “I mean it.”

Alex groans, shaking his head. “Fine, okay. It’s…strange.” He pauses, but I wait, holding out hope that he’ll continue. He does so, slowly. “I’ve…gotten myself to accept that I’m in a different world, but I can’t wrap my mind around the how. That’s stressful. We don’t have a solid plan to return home, nor do we know if we’ll find one. That’s depressing. And, I have flashes and snippets of memories, but otherwise, I feel like I don’t know who I am.”

My heart breaks. Here my friend is, hurting, lost…

And I’ve left him completely alone.

Alex tilts his head to the side, contemplating. “But I do feel better than when we arrived, or even just from a few days ago. Having things to do, feeling useful and like I have agency for the first time…it’s really good for me. And, well,” he dips his head then raises it again, leveling his eyes on me. “It’s helped me realize something else — that I owe you an apology.”

I blink in surprise. I’ve been the one that has pretty much abandoned and ignored him. I should be apologizing.

“On the road, I said some pretty mean things, and I isolated you from your friends and tried to take control. I didn’t mean for it to be like that. I was…” he sighs, shaking his head, “scared out of my mind. I already felt like I couldn’t do anything to fix the problem, and then on top of that I felt like you had completely given up and it was my job to save us both. And I know now that’s not the case, but for a while…” He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. “You’re just more adaptable than I am, I guess.”

I push myself off the bed, cross the room, and sit next to him on the small couch. Automatically, he throws an arm over my shoulder, the movement so familiar and easy that he must have done it a thousand times before. I lay my head on his shoulder, the bone there pressing against my ear.

I take a deep breath. “If we had really been kidnapped, or injured, or anything more realistic than what actually happened,” he gives a small, tired laugh, the movement shaking his shoulder, “you would’ve been the one to get us out. I know it. Even now, you’re the one putting in all the hard work to get us home. I’m sorry I’ve pretty much left you to handle it alone.”

He squeezes my upper arm gently. “I appreciate it, but I don’t blame you. I get it.” He shrugs again, a measure of sadness creeping into his voice. “It’s not like you remember anyone enough to miss them. If you have people you like here, of course you’d focus on them.”

I feel my lips pull into a guilty frown. “They like you too, you know. You all just need to spend some more time together—”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, pushing a smile onto his face. “It’s okay, honestly — we just don’t click. But I have you, and Baranor and I get along well, and I have this project to work on. It’s enough for me.”

I sigh, resting my head against his chest. I hope that’s true.

{***}

At breakfast, Lavandil and I make plans to meet at her shop. She gives me directions and I hurry up the stairs to my room, changing out of my tunic and leggings and into something a little more fun for my first day of work. I settle on a dark purple gown, one that billows down my arm in puffy gossamer sleeves and has a slight, sparkly train. I’m probably a bit overdressed, but knowing Lavandil’s extravagant wardrobe, I’ll fit in just fine. I bound down the staircase, eager to discover the market and the shop. I turn left, intent on exiting the building.

And crash into the middle of someone’s chest.

Hands grip my upper arms, steadying me as I stumble back. Once I’m righted, I look up, and my mouth falls open.

“Cosima—”

“Haldir—”

Both of us freeze, having spoken at the same time. I purse my lips, waiting for him to go first. He raises an eyebrow, evidently expecting the same of me.

But I can’t make the words happen. His hands on my arms send my mind right back to the tension of last night, to the room that started light and open and turned more intimate than it should as the night went on.

Haldir’s arms fall to his sides. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you turning the corner. Are you alright?”

I nod, my eyes darting from his chest clothed in a cobalt blue tunic up to his eyes. The intensity from last night is gone, now replaced with a noticeable degree of hesitance.

Interesting.

Did he feel something last night, too? Or does he know I did, and now feels awkward around me?

That last thought sends a wave of stress through me. Was I horribly obvious? Have I messed everything up?

“Are you off to Lavandil’s shop,” he inquires, pulling my mind away from these anxiety-inducing thoughts.

“Yes.”

He quirks a smile. “Then I imagine you will be seeing a lot of my brother today. He has a tendency to hang around there.”

“Probably a result of him being in love with the shop-owner,” I quip, voice going high with nerves.

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose that would do it.”

We fall into awkward silence.

Haldir clears his throat. “Well, enjoy your day.”

“You too,” I nod, crossing paths with him to exit the building.

Once outside, I take in a gulping breath.

Did I create all that weirdness? Or is he struggling to figure out how to act around me, too? And why?

Things have never been strained or awkward between myself and Haldir. Once he got over his initial suspicion of me, we got along easily. I feel like he understands me better than the others and, if I had to pick a favorite, as Rumil prompted me not so long ago, it would be, without question, the supposedly-stern Marchwarden leading our company. And, based on the amount of time he spends with me of his own accord, I would say he enjoys my presence, too.

So, that begs the question, what could have happened to turn all that ease on its head and replace it with stilted, awkward, unsure interactions? We were fine until last night��

I suck in a breath.

My brain, apparently useless until I looked the issue straight in the eye, starts piecing together instances of my time with Haldir, forming a terrifying and exhilarating picture.

Sleeping between me and the entrance to our camp so I wouldn’t be frightened. Spending hours alone with me lying on a blanket staring up at the stars. The way he panicked and looked after me when I had my migraine. Big things like that and smaller ones, too — the way he teases me, the way he always makes sure I’m cared for, whether that means sharing from his canteen or sending me with food when I’m likely to miss dinner. The way he’s conscious of my fears—heights, orcs, you name it—and provides support without coddling me, enabling me to handle and face them on my own. The way his arms, so gentle yet so secure, held me close, even for just the smallest of moments.

Could we…have feelings for each other?

Could this rapid and strong attachment to an ellon I met mere weeks ago be something other than friendship?

With a sinking feeling in my gut, the momentary rush of excitement falls into something much more sinister. Something that, in any other world would be a wonderful, thrilling feeling—the one I am developing feelings for maybe, potentially, might see me the same way—is here, horrifying.

Because elves live forever and love only once.

And a human lifespan is dismally short.

Rumil’s face after our conversation yesterday, crestfallen and saddened, comes to my mind.

If my mere friendship with these ellyn will cause them grief when I’m gone, then even entertaining these thoughts about Haldir….

It’s deplorable.

From the heart of the city, the bell chimes. I’m late to meet Lavandil.

I shove down the ache that makes my lips quiver and hurry down the path that will lead me to the market.

The distraction of working with Lavandil will be my lifeline.

I cannot allow my feelings for Haldir progress any further. So, though I’m not sure how effective I’ll be, I swear not to think about him for the rest of the day.

{***}

“What happened last night between you and Haldir?”

Damn.

I made it two hours.

I swallow, trying to seem busy as I hang a tapestry on a display. “What?”

Lavandil comes up beside me, using her height to hang the art properly. “Rumil told Orophin who told me that Haldir came back from training with you and seemed quite flustered.”

My body runs hot. “Did he?”

“Mhm,” she nods decisively. “Apparently he returned to the room in a rush, wouldn’t say a thing, and then spent over three hours at the training grounds, sparring quite harshly with some of the guard.”

Even though the tapestry is hung, I pretend to fuss with it, not brave enough to meet Lavandil’s eyes. “Nothing happened. Maybe he just wanted a better workout — I can’t imagine I was much of a challenge.” I try for a joke, and mercifully, she gives me a pity laugh.

Her demeanor softens. “Cosima, you know there’s nothing wrong with having an attraction, or even feelings.”

“Of course there’s something wrong with it,” I shriek, much louder than I meant to. I look at her with wide eyes, surprised by my outburst.

Thankfully, no one is in the shop, and Lavandil only regards me with calm eyes, no judgement in them.

“I’m sorry,” I hurry to apologize, sitting myself in a chair at a nearby table. On top of it sits a beautiful garnet tablecloth — Lavandil’s work. She sits across from me.

“It’s alright,” she smiles kindly, resting her elbows on the table to mirror me. “I had a similar disposition when I realized I loved Orophin.”

“I don’t love him,” I correct quickly.

She puts her hands up in the sign for surrender, though her bottom lip pulls like she’s trying not to make a face.

“I don’t,” I insist, putting effort into keeping my tone non-angry. I lower my voice, worried, perhaps irrationally, that Haldir himself will go waltzing by and hear my dreadful confession. “It’s, at most, an interest, and probably not even that. Likely more of a curiosity.”

“Well, interests are nothing to be ashamed of.” Her tone matches my low volume and carries in it a gentleness I could never hope to emulate.

“Yes, they do!” My voice drops to nearly a whisper. “Lavandil, he is an elf. You know I’m human. The two don’t mix well.”

She huffs. “There’s nothing to say that. An elleth here, Arwen—”

“Is walking into a tragedy,” I cut her off.

Lavandil’s eyes narrow. “Too many people see it that way, and it is getting quite old. Do you know what I see? Two souls in love. Though their futures are bleak and incompatible, their presents are filled with joy and love and the connection that can only come from two fæs who want each other so badly finally bonded. They would still face pain if they ignored their love for each other — so why not give themselves what joy they can?”

“But she will die—”

Now it’s Lavandil’s turn to interrupt. “Arwen is fully grown. She is wise, and I trust that she knows herself well enough to make the choices she has. Her life is ultimately her own. She can spend it how she pleases.”

I press my lips together, head falling to stare at the deep red tablecloth. Despite Lavandil’s conviction, her words do nothing to allay my fears.

The only thing that awaits an elf bonded with a human is grief and death.

Arwen may have made her choice, but so have I made mine.

“Rumil said elves can take centuries to fall in love. Is that true?”

Lavandil pauses, caught off guard with my change in topic. “I-in some cases, yes. More that it could potentially take that long for an elf to admit they are in love. Often, even if they are not ready to accept it, their fæs know. And even then, that is the timeline in the most rare of cases. You know, for Orophin and I it only took a matter of—”

I raise my eyes to her, pleading. “Lavandil.”

She sighs, staring at me like she wishes I had asked her something else. “Fine, yes. Elves fall slower than humans.”

I take in a deep breath, nodding.

Good.

Because if I have only just noticed these feelings, chances are, if Haldir were to follow suit, he is way behind. The instance Lavandil described from last night, the other hints that show he might be feeling something…I can end them now.

I have time to stop this.

I have time to save him.

A/n So, funny thing, @errruvande got pretty close to guessing Cosima’s reaction to realizing her feelings for Haldir, so shout out to Liza!!! Seriously though, love her, love her blog, I’d definitely recommend checking her account out! Thank you all for reading!

|next part|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff

#haldir #haldir x ofc #haldir x oc #haldir fanfic #haldir fanfiction

57 notes · View notes

softholand · 3 years

Text

drunk words, sober thoughts - t.h

pairing: tom holland x reader

warnings: alcohol, swearing, sexual themes, lap dance, a tiny bit of angst, fluff, smut

word count: 4k

a/n: it’s here, my first ever smut, go easy on me, i’m fucking nervous!!!! i wanna thank @missevrythingg for helping me, i wouldn’t dave done it without you, i love you ray 💖 i really hope you guys enjoy!! i also made a playlist for this fic, it really sets the mood for it!! again, english in not my first language so there’s probably some mistakes/typos, just pretend you didn’t see it! ;) oh and please, do let me know what you guys think, it really helps! i love you all, happy reading! 💓

It had been a long time since Tom last saw you. Between his acting career and your college scholarship in Canada, you guys barely kept contact for the last year. That’s why, when you finally came back home, he decided to throw you a surprise birthday party.

Sam was responsible to bring you to the club Tom had rented for the night, with the excuse that the place had just opened and it was a success already. He told you to get dressed and since Tom’s car was already full of people, he offered you a drive, which you gladly accepted.

Music was blasting from the nightclub when Sam parked his car near the entrance of the building, making you even more excited to be celebrating your birthday with your childhood friends. It wasn’t until you stepped foot in the club and saw all your friends with a giant banner on top of their heads saying “Happy 21st Birthday, y/n!” that you realized the party was, in fact, for you.

Sam was the first to hug you and wish you a happy birthday, but from the corner of your eye, you saw Tom approaching you with a smirk the size of the place on his face, making you sure it was his idea.

“Surprise!” He whispered in your ear as soon as he wrapped his arms around you. “You little shit!” That was the only thing you could say upon realizing he was, in fact, the mastermind behind all of this.

“Oh, c’mon, it’s your 21st birthday, I had to!” Tom stated, making you roll your eyes. “No, you didn’t! But thank you!” You answered, giving your friend another hug.

The rest of the boys greeted you, all wishing you a happy birthday, which you thanked, hugging each one. Suddenly you saw Cara, one of your friends from high school that had unfortunately moved to Australia and you hadn’t seen her since.

“No, you didn’t!” You screamed, making direct eye contact with Tom. “I did it!” He stated, making your smile grow even wider. Without wasting time, you run to your friend, hugging her like she was going to disappear at any minute.

“I can’t believe you’re here! I missed you!” You said, smiling so much that your cheeks hurt. “I missed you too, y/n/n! And yeah, I couldn’t believe either when Tom Holland contacted me, wanting to bring me to England!” She said, making both of you laugh.

Once you had greeted all of your friends, Tom went to the stage with a microphone, shouting “It’s time to party!” at the top of his lungs, making everyone scream and celebrate. “Crazy In Love” started to play as soon as he left the stage and that was only the beginning. Tom knew your obsession with old pop, so throughout the night, he made sure the DJ played all your favorites.

Between the bar special drinks and tequila shots, you lost track of time and were now dancing “I’m A Slave 4 You” with your girlfriends. The song blasted from the speakers, the alcohol in your system making you lose control of your own body. Cara still remembered some of the choreography of the song, from when you two were kids and used to learn all of Britney Spears's music videos, and so practically obliged you to do it with her.

Tom, Harrison, Tuwaine, Harry, and Sam were sitting in one of the dark red booths at the back of the club, with beers in hands, watching as you and Cara gave a show to everyone present.

“When did y/n get so hot?” Harry was the first to point out, making his twin brother chuckle. “While she was in Canada, apparently!” Tuwaine shrugged, gulping the icy liquid in his hands.

“Tom, you better close your mouth, you’re going to catch flies!” Harrison teased his friend, earning him a deadly glare. “Fuck off!” Tom shoved him, before going back to admiring how your body moved perfectly to the music.

When the first notes of “I Love Rock ‘N’ Roll” started, your drunk body made its way into the stage, grabbing the microphone, ready to lip-sync another one of your favorites songs. Your friends all gathered at the front of the stage, screaming and encouraging you to keep going. You still remembered Britney’s classic performance and so, you tried your best to copy her movements, just like in the music video.

Screams filled the crowded space of the nightclub while you pretended to sing the song. Cara and another one of your friends joined you on the stage, pretending to be your back singers. The boys observed you while you played with the microphone cord, twisting it on your finger. What they didn’t expect was for you to get on your knees, continuing the, rather sexy, performance on the stage floor.

“Holy shit!” Harrison exclaimed, not drawing the attention of his friends, who were busy watching you. “Should we do something?” Asked Sam, clearly concerned by your, rather drunk, actions. “Yeah, get closer!” His twin brother answered, getting off the booth and making his way to the stage, quickly being followed by the others.

When your eyes caught Tom’s brown (and lusty) ones, you made a point of getting close and teasing him by playing with his hair, which made everyone else lose their minds over it. When the song ended, he helped you get out of the stage while your friends applauded, praising you for the performance.

“Need some help there, love?” Tom asked, securing you in his arms when your legs felt like jelly. “Nope! I’m goooood!” You answered, extending the o’s, completely out of your mind.

“I see! Maybe you should slow down the drinks?” You knew Tom was just trying to help you, but being in your embriagate state, you just shushed him, putting a finger on his lips. “I have a better idea, what if... we did more shots?” You shouted, getting out of his embrace and making your way to the bar.

A couple more hours had passed and unfortunately, the party was coming to an end. Some of your guests had already left, but the ones that stayed were left on the dancing floor, with not so much energy as before.

But everything changed when “Dance for You” by Beyoncé started to play, you didn’t know how but a chair appeared in the middle of the dancing floor, completely out of nowhere. You immediately understood what whoever put that chair there wanted and if you haven’t before, your friends shouting “lap dance” had also made it very clear.

As intoxicated as you were, you knew exactly who you wanted on that chair. Seductively, you made your way to Tom, making grabby hands once you were in front of him. The screams only increased when he accepted your invitation without so much of a protest.

Making your way to the chair, you made Tom sit, going around it and putting your hands on his shoulders. To be completely honest, you had no idea what you were even doing. You never gave a lap dance before, so this was new territory for you. But your friend's screams and Tom’s lusty eyes gave you all the encouragement you needed.

Your hands explored every inch of his body, through his chest, abs, neck, shoulders, what your hands could reach, you were touching, always making sure to get close to his ear and tease him as best as you could.

You used the music to your advantage, moving your body to the beats, making sure to emphasize your hips. When you finally sat on his lap, it was like the end of a war, everyone was celebrating, screams and whistles could be heard even with the loud music.

Tom didn’t know what to do, he just awkwardly sat there, with his hands by his sides, dying to touch you. His wishes came true when you finally took his hands, putting them on your waist, where they stayed glued to your body. You continued your performance, grinding, swirling, doing all the things you knew about lap dance and by Tom’s reactions, you seemed to be doing a really good job. His eyes were on your body all the time but they seemed different, now dark shades of brown, almost black, covered his once hazel irises.

The song was, unfortunately, coming to an end, and to finish your show, you properly took a seat in Tom’s lap, straddling his waist, and this time, you could feel how much he was enjoying your performance. With the position, your already revealing dress left nothing to the imagination, and locking your eyes with his, you saw nothing but lust and desire, very different things that you used to see in your friend's stare.

You leaned in and he did too, and once your faces were only millimeters away, you suddenly lost all the courage on your body and pulled away, burying your face into his neck instead. Next thing you know, you were being helped into Tom’s car while your friends discussed where you were gonna spend the night.

“I can’t bring her home like that, her parents are going to kill me!” You heard Tom say. “Well, let’s take her to our place then! We can send them a text saying she’s staying with us.” Sam offered and the rest of the group seemed to agree since you didn’t hear any more discussion.

You must have blacked out again because suddenly you were being put in a bed. “Where am I?” You asked, feeling your throat dry. “You’re at my house, darling! It’s okay, you can sleep now!” You heard Tom’s voice but couldn’t find him with your blurred vision. “No, I don’t wanna sleep!” You protested, sounding like a three-year-old, which Tom chuckled.

“What do you wanna do then?” He pushed, and you felt a weight on the bed. “I can think of some things…” You whispered, passing your fingers through his shirt, feeling his hard abs underneath your palms. “y/n, you’re drunk!” Tom tried warning, earning him a scoff. “You are too!” You mocked, really sounding like a child now.

“Yeah, and that’s why we’re not gonna do anything that we may regret tomorrow.” He said, taking your hand in his. “Nooo, I want you!” At this stage, your mouth had a mind of its own because you couldn’t even process the things you were saying and that was one of them.

“I’m sorry, darling! We can talk about this tomorrow when we’re both sober. Okay?” Tom was trying. He was trying so hard to not give in to your pressure, you were practically begging him to sleep with you. But no, he couldn’t. You were both drunk and this type of decision shouldn’t be made under the influence of alcohol.

“You’re no fun!” You complained, earning another chuckle from him. “Yeah, yeah! You’re gonna thank me tomorrow!” He told you and once you didn’t respond anymore, he realized that you had fallen asleep.

He then took off your shoes, your makeup with one of his spare makeup remover wipes and exchanged your dress for one of his old shirts, making you the most comfortable he possibly could, since he knew you were going to have a pretty bad hangover the next day.

Oh, the next day. You woke up feeling like the whole world was spinning, you felt nauseous, your head was pounding and you smelled like alcohol. Opening your eyes, you saw a bottle of water and some painkillers by your side, which you were quick to chug all down.

“Good morning, birthday girl!” Harrison’s voice was like a hammer to your already sore head. “Please, don’t! I’m dying!” You pleaded, laying down again.

“Oh, c’mon! Wore yourself out yesterday?” Harry’s voice came out of nowhere, but you were too tired to further investigate. “How bad was it?” You asked, actually scared of the answer.

“You know… the normal! You drank, danced, drank more, did a lip sync of a Britney Spears song, drank some more…” Harrison started to point out, making you groan and hide your face in the covers.

“Wait, wait, wait! I’m in Tom’s bed, wearing only one of his shirts… Does that mean we…?” you inquired, making the boys loudly groan. “y/n, c’mon! No, he slept on the couch!” Harry grunted, making a disgusted face.

“But you gave him a lap dance!” Sam’s voice startled you, making you jump on the bed.

“I did what?!!!!!!” You shouted, making the pounding in your head even worse. “I knew you weren’t going to remember so I recorded everything.” Harrison’s passed you his phone.

And just like he said, there you were, in Tom’s lap, with your tits practically in his mouth, while you danced and swirled your hips to a Beyoncé song. “No, no, no, no! Why did you guys let me do that?” You asked, completely perplexed with your actions.

“Well, you seemed to be enjoying it and it was your birthday party, we didn’t want to ruin your day,” Harry said, which earned him a death glare. “But my day is ruined! How am I supposed to face Tom now?!” You questioned, looking dumbfounded at your friends.

“Well, you better think about something because our families planned a brunch in a couple of hours,” Sam told you, matter of factly, making you loudly groan and slide even further under the covers.

Half an hour later, you were forced by your friends to get up, take a shower and get ready for brunch, since there was no way your parents would let you miss it, it was your birthday after all. With a simple summer dress, that you had laying around at the boy's place and sunglasses that were the size of your head, you made your way downstairs, where they were already waiting for you.

“Good morning!” Tuwaine’s deep voice startled you from his place on the couch, next to Tom, who you completely ignored. “Please, don’t!” You protested, feeling a hammer in your head every time you took a step.

Quickly, you made your way to the garage, not wanting to face Tom in any circumstances. Once he and the twins got into his car, Tom made his way to the restaurant where your families were already waiting.

To say the brunch was a complete disaster was an understatement. You were practically a zombie, the food at your plate made you want to throw up and the pain in your head was not ceasing. You could see Tom sneaking glances, trying to talk to you, but you looked away and dismissed him every time, you were just too embarrassed to even look at him.

When the torture was finally over, your parents asked if you wanted to come back home but you decided to stay with the boys, since you knew you had to talk to Tom at some point. The ride back was silent, only the sound of the radio could be heard and to be honest, the tension was starting to get you. Once Tom parked the car in front of the house, you and the twins were getting out when he stopped you.

“You can go ahead, I want to show y/n a place.” He said and you immediately looked at him with your brows raised, having no idea what he was talking about, but praying it didn’t have anything to do with last night's events.

Once the twins were out, you got into the passenger seat and Tom drove away, not even saying a word to you. The drive was short and just a couple of minutes after, he was pulling into an empty parking lot. Turning off the car, he put one of his arms behind the passenger seat, facing you completely.

“Oh, that’s it?” You asked, clearly confused with what was going on. “There wasn’t a place, y/n! I just wanted for us to be alone so we could talk.” Tom stated.

“Tom, let’s not…” You tried to brush off the conversation but he wasn’t having. “Yes, y/n! What’s going on? Why are you avoiding me?”

“Please, Tom! Don’t pretend nothing happened last night!” You rolled your eyes, still avoiding his gaze. “I’m not the one pretending here! You won’t even look me in the eye!” He huffed, getting tired of your behavior.

“I’m ashamed, okay?!!!” You screamed, losing your inner battle and finally looking at him. “God, the things I did to you last night were… awful!” You said, quickly averting his gaze.

“I wouldn’t use that word!” Tom smirked, making you roll your eyes and cross your arms. “Seriously, y/n! It’s not that serious!”

“It is to me, Tom! I’m not used to stuff like that!” You told him, getting tired of the conversation. “Well, it’s not like I haven’t thought about you like that!” The boy tells you.

“You what?” Looking back at him, you could see a giant smirk plastered on his face. “Oh, c’mon y/n! Don’t tell me you never thought about it?” Tom inquired, making you suddenly nervous.

“What? No! I mean… yeah, you’re… you’re hot but… no! Never like... that!” You tried your best to keep your voice steady and not give in to him but your stuttering made it clear you were failing.

“Really? That’s a shame! Because you looked stunning sitting on my lap last night. Made me think about so many things to do to you.” He whispered, very close to your ear, making you squirm on your sit.

“Tom…” You moaned, feeling his hot palm on your thigh. “What is it, y/n?” Tom asked, looking at you with eyes full of lust and desire, all for you. “Kiss me!” You begged and in seconds, his lips were on yours.

You were lying before, of course, you had already thought about Tom in more… sexual ways. The boy was practically a greek god, there was no way you couldn’t notice how his perfect six-pack showed even underneath his stupidity tight T-shirts. But nothing in this world could prepare you for the overwhelming sensation you felt when you kissed. It was like a fire ignited inside of your body and only he could help make it stop.

When the kisses weren't enough anymore, you tried to get into his lap, but the positions you were in prevented you from that. “Backseat?” He asked, breathing heavily. “Yes!” You desperately nodded.

In quick but awkward movements, you and Tom made your way to the backseat and he didn’t lose time by putting you in his lap, encouraging you to grind on his already hard bulge. “You’re so hot!” He breathed between kisses, making you grind even harder.

“Tom…” You moaned, putting one of your hands on his pants, teasing his still clothed cock, while the other stayed on his broad shoulders, steadying yourself. Moans filled the car once Tom put one of his hands on your core, already dripping wet. “God, look at you!” He praised, biting your bottom lip.

“Tom, please…” You pleaded, moving your hips faster, trying to get some relief. “What do you want, darling?” He murmured, putting your underwear to the side, coating his fingers with your slickness. “Fuck!” You cried out, begging him to keep touching you.

“It’s okay, I’m gonna take care of you!” Tom increased his movements and in seconds you were a mess on top of him, moans mixed with curse words left your mouth, making him even more eager for you. “Tom!” You moaned, taking his hand off of you when you were on the edge of your high, making him raise his brows.

“I wanna cum with you!” You whispered and at that moment, Tom felt completely intoxicated with you. Smirking, he fished a condom from his wallet, before taking his pants and boxers off. You wrapped your hand around his shaft, spreading his precum, feeling him twitch only with your touch.

Teasingly, you took the package out of his hands and opened it with your teeth, before sliding the latex material on his cock. “You know we don’t have to, right? I mean, I want to but if you don’t, that’s okay!” Tom let you know, and the look in his eyes told you he was telling nothing but the truth. “I know! But I want to!” You stated, making him smile before colliding his lips on yours.

One of Tom’s hands goes to your hip to guide you onto him as you hold your underwear to the side. Moans fill the car as you sink onto him, both of you at a loss of words with this new overwhelming sensation. “So fucking good!” You gasp, as Tom starts to help you move your hips up and down, increasing the speed with each move.

It doesn’t take long for you to be reaching your high but this time Tom will not let you escape. He presses one of his slender fingers on your clit, doing circular motions that drive you insane. “Tom, don’t stop… oh, fuck!” Your walls clench around him, as you feel your orgasm washing over in waves of pleasure.

“You good?” He asks with a cocky smirk after a few minutes of your racked breaths, making you want to slap it out of his face. “Not bad!” You tease him, quickly regretting your choice of words when he starts pounding into you with no mercy. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You cried, closing your eyes with the amount of pleasure he’s giving you.

“What is it, darling? I can’t hear you!” It’s his turn to tease you and after a few minutes, you’re left moaning out his name again, like it’s the most blessed praying in the world. “y/n, fuck!” With the feeling of your body convulsing on top of him, Tom loses the battle and as he screams your name, you can feel his cock twitch inside of you, making you clench around him.

With heavy breaths and sore bodies, you and Tom stay glued to one another, in silence, enjoying the post-sex feeling. “God, we should have done this a long time ago!” Tom smirks, making you chuckle. “Absolutely!” You laugh, leaving a kiss on his swollen lips.

Once you two had cleaned up and Tom got rid of the used condom, he invited you for ice cream, and, to be honest, how could you deny it? The place he took you was like a unicorn dream, the walls were pink with colorful sprinkles painted on it. After you were both seated on a rainbow table, a waitress came offering you a smile, before taking your orders, chocolate fudge for you, vanilla bean for Tom.

“So…” He said, trying to start a conversation. “So…” You copied him, feeling suddenly aware of what you two had done. “I’m… you know what? I’m just gonna ask it! What we did before was just… sex for you?” Tom blurted out, making your whole body fill with anxiety.

“Oh, I… I don’t know. I mean, I was... hoping not?” You answered, using the courage still left on your body. “Yeah?” He smiled, seemingly relaxed with your choice of words. “Me too!” He completed, taking one of his hands in yours.

You smiled, feeling completely enamored with the boy sitting in front of you. Leaning in, you kissed his lips, sweetly and slowly, feeling his smile grow between the kisses. Once you were done with the ice cream, he took you to the park, where you stayed until sunset, holding hands, stealing kisses, and watching adorable old couples doing the same things you were doing, even after all the years together.

“So… did you enjoy your birthday?” Tom asked, as soon as you took a seat on the freshly cut grass in front of a beautiful lake with a couple of swans peacefully swimming. Smiling, you leaned in, placing a kiss on his lips, before answering. “It was the best!”

tagging some mutuals: @definitely-not-black-cat @stuckonspidey @bi-writes @missnxthingg @peeterparkr @tomhollandthing @wazzupmrstark @screamholland @fallinfortom @duskholland

#my writing #tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland one shot #tom holland fic #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland writing

240 notes · View notes

whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years

Text

infinity, and beyond

He remembers the first time he kissed Janus. He remembers the way they were curled up against each other, the lights dimmed and the television on low volume, neither of them paying attention to the images on the screen. It was messy and terrible, as far as kisses go, and Patton loved every moment of it, and when they pulled away from each other, they were both breathless, smiling, and he knew then that what he felt, Janus felt too.

He remembers, too, the moment he heard about Virgil.

It's not every day that your husband's long-lost kid breaks into your house. It's not every day that you find out your husband of four years is an alien.

Patton's just trying to roll with the punches.

Content Warnings: threats of violence, mild body horror, brief, non-graphic panic attack

Word Count: 7,168

Pairings: Moceit, parental Anxceit

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

Patton’s day begins with a teenager holding a knife to his throat.

Technically, the day has already begun; it is mid-morning, the sun inching steadily toward noon. But Patton has barely been awake an hour, has been sitting at the kitchen table with his mug of coffee, staring at all the final exams he has yet to grade as he waits for his brain to start functioning. He likes Saturday mornings; he would go so far as to say that they’re usually his favorite part of the week, because usually, Saturday mornings mean sleeping in, wrapped in his husband’s arms, and later, a big brunch and a lazy day. But today, an emergency called Janus into the office, and he has a backlog of grading to finish this weekend, so here he is. Squinting, bleary-eyed, and with a sad lack of a husband to keep him company.

That is when the teenager appears.

Appears, because there is no better word for what happens. There is no break-in, no slamming of doors or shattering of windows. One minute, he is alone, and the next, there is another person in the kitchen, a young person who can’t be any older than seventeen or eighteen, and Patton barely has time to process that before they lunge for him, knocking him from his chair and to the floor, pinning him against the cool tile.

It takes a second to process the bite of cold, sharp metal against his throat, but as soon as he does, Patton wakes up very, very quickly.

“Please—” he tries, but the teenager hisses at him, actually hisses, and through the panic that is filling his mind and drowning out all logical thought, Patton realizes that something about this isn’t right. Something beyond the fact that there is a knife against his throat and oh god oh god oh god there is a knife against his throat—

The teenager opens their mouth, their face set in a harsh, threatening glare— and it’s their face, there’s something wrong about their face but he can’t quite— but the sounds that come out are gibberish, something guttural and rasping and nothing like any language that Patton has ever heard.

“Please,” he gasps, his voice thin and high and terrified, “please, I don’t know what you’re saying, I can’t—”

He breaks off, because he thinks that if he tries to say any more, it will come out as nonsensical crying, and somehow, he doesn’t particularly think that this person will be swayed by something like that.

The teenager’s lips twist into an impressive scowl, and with the hand not holding the knife, they reach for the pocket of their— hoodie? If it’s a hoodie, it doesn’t quite look like one. It’s something about the fabric, something about the way it moves as they do, but Patton can’t spend energy on figuring that out right now. He tenses as they root around in their pocket, clearly searching for something, and muttering to themself in that same garbled speech pattern. They come up holding something, and Patton can only catch a glimpse of it— what looks like a small, silver disk— before their hand is moving, clapping it against and then inside his ear and—

There is a moment of sharp, almost blinding pain, starting with his ear and shooting through his skull, and then nothing, and he struggles to regain his breath.

“I said,” the teenager growls, “where is he?”

Patton blinks. The sounds they are making are still the same, are still strange and incomprehensible, only, they’re not exactly, because they resolve into recognizable words inside his brain, and if he hadn’t been panicked before, this would definitely be enough to do the job, because what exactly did this person just shove inside his ear?

“What—” he starts, and then the words themselves catch up to him. “Where is who?”

The teenager growls— and it is truly a growl, like an animal would make— and presses the knife in closer. Patton valiantly resists the urge to whimper.

“Don’t fucking play with me,” they snap, and somewhere, back in some hysterical portion of Patton’s mind, he is tempted to chide them for their language. “His DNA signature is all over this fucking house, so where is he? What’ve you done with him?”

Patton can only stare.

Part of his mind has devoted itself to putting the pieces together, no matter the impossible picture they form. Part of his mind is taking in the pale skin that isn’t white at all, but rather a light purple, the way their facial features are just a bit too sharp, a bit too angular to be those of a typical young adult, the way that the spots under and around their eyes aren’t makeup, but instead move, twitching to and fro in unison with their gaze, and that alone is almost enough to send him spiraling, to draw him toward a conclusion that can’t possibly be true, that he can’t possibly comprehend.

The rest of his mind devotes itself to being astonished.

“Are you talking about Janus?” he asks, and he can’t keep the incredulity from his voice.

He doesn’t know which seems more unlikely to him, that this strange, violent, maybe-probably not human person has broken into his house and is threatening him with a sharp knife, or that this strange, violent, maybe-probably not human person is looking for his husband. His husband, who makes him breakfast in bed in the mornings and tea in the afternoons, when he has too many essays to look over and a headache pounding behind his eyes. His husband, who bristles and snarks at everyone around him, who works a corporate job he dislikes and comes home exhausted and irritated at the end of the day and still smiles, that soft, sweet smile that is meant only for him, that nobody else is privileged enough to see. His husband, who he has been married to for four years now, the best four years of his life, who he fell in love with in coffee shops and movie theaters and in the rain, that one day when they were caught out in the park without their umbrellas and had to run all the way home, soaking wet but giggling, grinning and knocking into each other.

His husband, who refuses to talk about his past beyond a sentence or two, here and there, brief anecdotes that never reveal much at all. But Patton has never needed to know his past to know him, and even now, when it seems that his secrets have burst into their shared life in the most violent way possible, disrupting all sense of equilibrium and turning the world on its head, he refuses to believe that there is any secret so great as to force a divide between them.

The teenager— if that is what they are, if the appearance of youth is an accurate indication at all— bares their teeth, teeth that are too sharp, too pointed, teeth that scream predator. “Who else?” they demand. “I won’t fucking ask again. Where is he?”

“He’s not— He’s not here,” he manages. “He’s at work, I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

Please, let that satisfy them. Please, let them leave. Please, let Janus come home. Please, let Janus not come home, let him stay at the office, far away and safe. Please, let him come home and tell me what’s going on, why this is happening, who this is and how they know each other. Please, please, please.

He doesn’t know what he wants. Doesn’t know that he wants to know what he wants.

“Yeah, right,” they say, and he would be insulted by their skepticism if he had room for any emotion other than fear. “That’s likely. You could have him cut up in the basement for all I know.”

He gapes, stunned by the accusation. And for a moment, his indignation is enough to override all common sense, ignore all the impossibilities of the person holding him to the floor, ignore the knife pressing up against his skin. Because, well, first of all, he has no idea where that idea came from, but the very thought that he would do something like that at all, much less to—

“Cut—” he starts, and has to try again, because he can’t wrap his head around the notion, around the idea that that could potentially be something he would want to do, that that is the first thing this person thinks to accuse him of. “Cut up? Janus is my husband.”

Their eyes widen. “Your what?”

“My husband,” he repeats, the reaction emboldening him. “We’ve been married for four years.”

They blink at him, and it’s a motion that takes up their entire face rather than just their eyes, because those moving dots… those are eyes, too. Patton can’t deny it, can’t deny that this person, whatever they are, has eight eyes. Eight eyes, just like a spider, and his outrage fizzles out in the face of that realization, fades back into terror, into a racing pulse and breaths that come too short and quick, and he is confused now too, confused at what this person wants, because their words almost seem to suggest that they don’t want to see Janus harmed at all, that they think he is the threat. That they think he is a threat to Janus.

But Patton isn’t the one with the knife.

“Please,” he says. “Please, just, you can look around the house, there’s pictures of us. We’re together, we’re happy, and I don’t know what you want, but just please, please don’t hurt him.”

“Don’t hurt him?” they repeat, and somehow, whatever strange translation system is at work in his head manages to convey their disbelieving tone. “What the hell are you talking about?”

They seem surprised that Patton is making the insinuation at all, and Patton can’t help the incredulous noise that escapes him.

“You’re holding a knife to my throat!” he all but shrieks, the words ripping out of him at a much higher volume than he intends. “What am I supposed to think you want?”

They make a strangled sound, one that his mind doesn’t resolve into words.

“You—”

And then, they stop, tilting their head. A moment later, Patton hears it too, and dread forms a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach. There is a clattering sound, a key turning in the lock, and the unmistakable creak as the front door opens. The teenager stands, suddenly, a fluid motion, but Patton is frozen in place, barely noticing the removal of the knife and the pressure holding him down, too busy trying to think of a way out of this, or to protect Janus, if worst comes to worst. He’s trembling so hard that he’s not sure how quickly he’ll be able to get up, but once he does, he’s in the kitchen. There are weapons here. All he has to do is grab one, no matter how ill it makes him feel to use his cooking instruments in such a way.

He won’t let this person hurt Janus. Not if he has any say.

“I’m home, love!” Janus’ voice drifts through the house, smooth and unconcerned. There is a familiar thump; that will be his briefcase hitting the floor, and then a rustle of clothing as he sheds his suit jacket. His footsteps draw nearer, and even as the person’s face shifts into an expression Patton has no hope of interpreting, he readies himself to leap to his feet, to fight if need be.

“I just love when idiots call me in for an issue that it would take someone with half a brain twenty minutes to solve,” Janus says, sounding terribly exasperated, and normally, this is when Patton would go to him and give him a hug, would lean his chin on his shoulder and hold him close, or at the very least call out to respond to him. But he stays still and quiet, and the footsteps pause.

“Patton?” He sounds uncertain now, but he’s coming closer again, and Patton finds himself staring fixedly at the entryway to the kitchen, raising his head from the floor to see. Oddly enough, the teenager stands stock still, making no motion to turn to where Janus will appear in mere seconds.

And then, there he is, and Patton cannot help the instantaneous flood of relief at seeing him, at seeing Janus, his husband, poised and confident and unharmed and here. He stands on the threshold, adjusting the gloves on his hands, and Patton watches as his face transitions from calm to confusion to something between anger and fear as he takes in the scene, the toppled chair and rumpled papers, the figure standing in the midst of it all, knife clutched in one hand. And then, he locks gazes with Patton himself, and his eyes blow wide with worry even as the rest of his face schools itself.

“And just who the fuck are you?” he demands of the person. To anyone else, he would sound completely collected, but Patton knows him too well to miss the tremor in his voice.

The person doesn’t move.

“I’d appreciate an answer,” Janus continues. “I’d also appreciate it if you’d step away from my husband.” Janus gives him a tight smile, one that is probably meant to be reassuring, and he returns it as best he can.

And then, slowly, the person pivots on their heel, putting their back to Patton. He can no longer see their facial expression, blank and unhelpful though it was, but he can see Janus’ perfectly well, and as such, he can see the way he holds onto his cool anger for all of five seconds, before it shifts into undiluted shock. His face pales, his lips parting slightly, and he actually takes one stumbling, hesitant step forward, and Patton’s heart begins beating triple time because he has no idea what could make him react like this.

And then, the person speaks.

“Janus,” they say, and the noises that spill from their mouth remain strange and unfamiliar, but somehow, Patton hears the wetness in the name, the fragility, the desperate hope. The knife goes clattering to the floor.

Janus makes a sound, wounded, astonished, and Patton has never heard anything like that come from his husband’s throat, and it scares him.

“Virgil?” he rasps, and evidently, that is all this person needs, because they launch themself forward, and Patton’s instincts scream at him to try to stop them, to leap at them or grab at their hoodie or do something. But Janus’ arms open wide to receive them, and then the two of them are hugging, holding each other tightly, and from here, Patton can see the way Janus’ hands fist in the odd material of the teenager’s clothing, the way he buries his face in their shoulder, and Patton has never been more lost.

Virgil. He recognizes the name, he thinks, and it only takes a moment to summon the memory from the depths of his mind, blurred with age and the faint buzz of alcohol and the heat of the summer night. But Virgil rings out in his mind as clear as a bell, somehow bringing more questions and few answers, because none of this makes any sense at all, because one night, two and a half years ago, Janus told him that he had a son, and that he loved him, and that he lost him, and that his name was Virgil, and then he refused to say any more, and Patton let it go in favor of holding him because the look of devastation on Janus’ face was like none he had ever seen before.

So, this cannot be Virgil. But surely, Janus would know the face of his own son, would never embrace a stranger, and would never embrace… whatever this person is, because Janus is sharp and Janus is observant, and he has most certainly picked up on all their unusual features, on all the ways that they cannot possibly be human. So that means that this must be Virgil after all, and Patton can only watch as they cling to each other, like they’re both afraid the other will disappear if they let go.

And Patton doesn’t know what this means.

-----------

He remembers the first time he kissed Janus. He remembers the way they were curled up against each other, the lights dimmed and the television on low volume, neither of them paying attention to the images on the screen. They stared at each other for a long time before he leaned in, before he dared to take the initiative, and he has never felt happier than in the moment when Janus met him halfway, pressing his lips firmly against his, their noses knocking into each other, their teeth almost clacking together as they sought more, more contact, more closeness. It was messy and terrible, as far as kisses go, and Patton loved every moment of it, and when they pulled away from each other, they were both breathless, smiling, and he knew then that what he felt, Janus felt too.

He remembers, too, the moment he heard about Virgil. He remembers, because he knows only fragments of Janus’ past, a past that he is certain is dark and full of sorrow, and that is why he has never pushed for more than what Janus is willing to give, content to gather up the bits and pieces he is offered and guard them close.

Most of the surrounding conversation is hazy, blurred by one too many glasses of fine wine and a summer heat wave that permeated every inch of the apartment they rented at the time, no matter the efforts of the air conditioner to banish it. But he remembers the way Janus quieted, all of a sudden, face still and contemplative and sad in a way that made his heart clench.

“Have I ever told you,” he said, “that I have a son?”

And he could only stare and shake his head; the answer, of course, was no, the revelation so unexpected that he had no idea how to react.

Janus smiled, small and bitter, like a gash in his face, bleeding him dry. “I do,” he said. “He’s beyond my reach, now. I won’t be able to see him again.”

He remembers he made a noise, tiny and shocked, and that he stretched a hand out, placed it on his, and Janus accepted the touch readily enough.

“His name is Virgil,” Janus continued. “I think he would like you. At least, I hope he would.” He tilted his head, eyes distant. “He’s prickly, slow to trust, abrasive in general. But he’s a good kid. Was a good kid. I suppose he’s not… well. It’s been five years, now.” He closed his eyes, bowing his head. “He would like you,” he repeated, sounding more than a little broken. “He would like you.”

And he didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t know what to say at all, his words failing him. So he tugged him closer with both arms, leaning him against his chest and rocking him gently, holding him close, and Janus pressed into the contact and didn’t say anything else.

He drew the conclusion that Virgil was dead, died tragically young, somehow. Looking back, he’s not sure how he arrived there, when Janus used the present tense the entire time, quite clearly speaking as though Virgil was alive and well, just somewhere he couldn’t go.

He thinks he might understand that part a bit better now, at least, though most of it refuses to sink in. But the facts are these: Virgil, if this is Virgil, cannot possibly be human. No human looks like he does. And this fact, too, leaves Patton with far more questions than answers.

-----------

“You did what?”

Janus’ voice is loud, sharp, and it brings Patton back to the present in an instant. He doesn’t know how much time has passed while he ruminated, tried to fit all the puzzle pieces together while well aware that he only has about half of them, but Janus and Virgil have drawn back from each other, Janus’ face twisted in alarm.

“We did research before I came down here!” Virgil says. “I’ve seen what humans want to do to us! For all I knew, he’d locked you up in a room and dissected you.”

Ah. So Janus isn’t pleased that his son—his son, his son, this is Janus’ son, his husband’s son— threatened Patton with a knife. Patton would feel more gratified if he weren’t stuck on us, trying desperately to ignore the voice that whispers in the back of his mind, the one that says, well, doesn’t that make sense? Virgil’s not human, that much is obvious, so doesn’t that mean that Janus is—

“You—”

And for the first time since he recognized Virgil, named him aloud, Janus looks at Patton, and Patton looks back, unsure of exactly what emotion is showing on his face. Confusion, probably; lord knows he’s feeling enough of it right now. But for whatever reason, Janus’ expression crumples, and he gently places his hand on Virgil’s shoulder, moving him to the side.

“Virgil,” he says quietly, and for the first time, Patton realizes that he isn’t speaking English at all, but rather, that same unfamiliar language that Virgil has been utilizing, the one that morphs in his head into something that makes sense. “I… need a moment.”

“But we only just—” Virgil begins, turning so that he can see both of them at once. And then, he stops, something odd passing across his face, something that Patton can’t interpret at all. “So you really are… with him.”

“Yes.”

“But he doesn’t know,” Virgil states.

Janus closes his eyes. “No,” he says.

Virgil is silent for a long moment. “Alright,” he says. “I’ll just… go in this other room, I guess. Over here.” And with that, he backs out of the kitchen and into the living room, disappearing from Patton’s line of sight.

Patton glances back to Janus, who is just standing there, still as stone, staring at him, and he opens his mouth, fully intending to chide him for talking about him, or about something tangentially related to him, at least, like he’s not sitting right here. But no sound comes out of his mouth, and suddenly, he finds himself wheezing, gasping for breath as the events of the past few minutes crash over him, and oh god, how is he supposed to process this, reconcile himself to this, because he knew his husband had secrets and he still doesn’t think he understands fully but he does understand just enough to know that everything he thought he knew is not as it seems and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with this and—

“Breathe, Patton,” Janus says, and a gloved hand appears in his vision. He grasps it thankfully, squeezing it tight, and the contact serves to ground him, allows him to calm his panic, little by little, until his mind clears enough to realize that Janus is kneeling in front of him, expression twisted into some awful combination of worry and apprehension and a hesitance that Patton has not seen in a long, long time, not since the earliest days of their relationship, when Janus seemed so uncertain that his affections were welcomed or wanted at all, and Patton had to work so hard to convince him otherwise.

But before he can do something to comfort him, Janus draws into himself, pulling his hand back and looking at the ground. “I suppose you have questions,” he says, and Patton almost laughs at the understatement, restraining himself at the last second.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and he wants to reach out, wants to take Janus’ hand again, but Janus’ body language is so closed off that he’s not sure any touch at all would be welcome. “So, uh, that’s Virgil.”

Janus nods.

“Your son, Virgil.”

Janus nods again, his eyes flickering up for a moment and then back to the floor again.

“I’m sorry he acted the way he did,” he murmurs. “He was scared for me, so he jumped to the worst possible conclusion.”

“There was no harm done,” Patton replies, matching his soft tone. “I mean, that was really scary. I was scared. I think I still am. But I’m not hurt, and everything’s turned out okay.” Even as the words leave his mouth, he has no idea whether he’s telling the truth or not. Have things turned out okay? Have they really? He feels like they’re dancing around the most important subject, the elephant in the room, and what’s more than that, they both know they’re doing it, neither of them quite willing to broach the topic.

But they need to. So Patton does.

“He’s not…” He pauses, taking a breath, marshaling all the courage he has left in him. “He’s not human.”

The statement hangs in the air between them, like a comma in a sentence, waiting for the inevitable continuation.

Janus shakes his head, just slightly, the motion so small that Patton might have missed it had he not been looking. “No,” he says, “he’s not.” And he falls silent, unwilling to elaborate, still unwilling to so much as meet Patton’s eyes, and that leaves the impetus of the conversation on him, doesn’t it? It leaves him to voice the rest, to dare to seek confirmation of a fact that half an hour ago, would have been too unbelievable to consider. Still is, to be frank.

“He’s… an alien. He’s not from earth,” he says, putting off the inevitable for as long as possible. He stares at his husband, who he loves, who he cherishes, who he treasures, who he thought he knew. And he still does, surely, because he knows what Janus is like, knows who he is if not what he is, and that has to be enough. He’s determined to make it enough. “So… are you? An alien, I mean?”

The question is out there, now. There is no taking it back. And Janus looks up at him, finally, expression pained.

“Yes,” he says simply, and Patton has to take a moment to breathe, to wrest his spiraling thoughts back under control, because what exactly is he supposed to make of this? This feels too big for him, too vast and too shocking and too incomprehensible, and nothing, nothing has ever prepared him for this possibility.

“Okay,” he says, even though he feels like it’s really not. “Okay. That’s… okay. I need a second to, um. I just need a second.”

“Of course,” Janus says, inclining his head, and then he moves as if to stand, and no, that is absolutely not what Patton wants, so he grabs at his sleeve with one hand. Janus freezes, staring at the spot where his fingers connect with his shirt.

“That doesn’t mean I want you to leave,” he says, his voice coming out somewhere between cross and petulant. “I can have a second perfectly well with you here.”

“Oh,” Janus says, settling back on the floor. He looks more than a little bit lost, as if he can’t fathom why Patton would want him to stay, and that does hurt a bit, the implication that he thinks Patton might not want him anymore, because of this. Which, he supposes it’s a rational fear; it is, after all, a rather large secret to drop on someone four years into a marriage. But Patton just needs time to process, and once he has, he thinks he’ll be alright.

So, he closes his eyes, focusing on the texture of Janus’ sleeve against his fingers, soft and silky.

What does this change, really? A lot, obviously, but how much of that actually matters? Does Janus being an alien change the fact that he always eats the last of the ice cream, or that he insists on doing the dishes by hand, or that he cried when Bambi’s mom died even though he pretended not to so that he could comfort Patton? Does it change the fact that he’s a terrible blanket hog, or that he denies loving to cuddle but instantly latches onto Patton the moment they’re both in bed together, or that he always seems to know just what to do or say when Patton is tired and sad and all the world feels gray?

Does it change that he loves him?

No. No, it can’t possibly affect any of that at all. And he’s known that all along, really, the realization lurking just under the surface, waiting for him to have it on his own time. He feels relief flood him, because alright. His husband is an alien. It’s going to take a long time for him to be used to that. But he’ll be damned before he lets that come between them.

He opens his eyes.

“I love you,” he says, and he puts all of his sincerity, all of the reassurance he can muster into those three words. And he is prepared to say more, to go on at length about all the reasons why, but Janus winces, turns his head away.

“You can’t say that,” he says. “Patton, you don’t even know what I look like.”

He frowns. Janus’ tone edges on defeat, on something uncomfortably close to despair, and he doesn’t like that at all.

“I’m looking at you right now,” he tries, but Janus just shakes his head.

“I’m a shapeshifter,” he says, cold and biting and yet, still reluctant, as if the admission is being ripped from him. “I literally hide my true appearance from you on a daily basis. I’m not human, and I don’t look like one, not when I’m not trying to.” He turns back to him then, meets his eyes, and it’s almost like a challenge, as if he’s certain in his words, certain that Patton will turn his back on him over something like appearance. And it’s true, this new admission throws him for a bit of a loop, but he thinks if he can accept the fact that he is married to an actual alien, he can accept this, too.

Janus is a very attractive man. But Patton didn’t marry him for his looks. And no matter what sort of alien he is, no matter what he’s hiding, whether it’s tentacles or feathers or extra eyes or what-have-you, Patton will love him just the same. What concerns him most is that Janus doesn’t seem to know that, seems to think that this will be the deal-breaker, will be what sends Patton running. And he is expecting Patton to run; that is becoming increasingly clear with every passing minute.

He spent a lot of time, early on in their relationship, showing Janus that he cared about him, showing Janus that he was allowed to be cared for. He didn’t expect to have to do it again, didn’t expect to have to prove his affections once more, four years into a happy marriage, but he will do whatever it takes.

“Then show me,” he says softly, and pitches his words carefully, trying to make it seem like a request and not a demand, trying to make sure Janus knows that he doesn’t have to do anything at all, not if he doesn’t want to. “Show me what you look like.”

Janus laughs, short and sharp, like a razor’s edge. He passes a hand across his face, and Patton’s fingers finally slip from his sleeve. He removes his hat, and then, to Patton’s surprise, he begins to unbutton his shirt, shrugging it from his shoulders, and then follows that with his gloves. Patton watches as the garments hit the floor, suddenly anxious, though he tries not to show it. Whatever Janus is about to show him, it is crucial that he doesn’t allow himself to have a negative knee-jerk reaction, doesn’t allow himself to recoil before his head and heart catch up to his instincts.

Even if Janus turns into… a giant spider person, or something equally scary, he’ll still love him. He knows that, knows that there is nothing that Janus could do or be to make him stop, but what is most important right now is making sure that Janus knows that.

Janus doesn’t say anything else, just settles back firmly on his haunches, bracing his hands against his thighs, shutting his eyes. And his face slides into something blank, into something impassive, but for just a moment, Patton thinks he sees a flicker of apprehension, even of fear, and he wants nothing more to reach out, to insist that everything is going to be alright. But he knows that Janus won’t believe him right now, will shrug off any touch, so he restrains himself, and watches as Janus begins to change.

It’s slow, at first, subtle. His skin almost seems to ripple in place, and then it— flips, for lack of a better word. It reminds him of Mystique from the X-Men movies, or one of those sequined pillows or shirts that has another color on the other side, revealed when you rub the sequins the other way. His skin flips, and in its place is scales, smooth and gleaming, in dappled patterns all across the left side of his face and down his chest. And as Patton stares, utterly fascinated, they move and shift across his body, curling into different designs and reflecting different colors, green and brown and yellow. And where his skin is still bare, it seems to even out, any blemishes disappearing, and it takes on a slightly yellow tint.

And Patton is so occupied by this that he almost doesn’t see the extra arms, folding out of seemingly nowhere, two extra pairs, one resting limp at his side and the other curling around his abdomen protectively. Three pairs of arms, six hands, each one now tipped with sharp claws, and Patton gapes at them, allowing himself one moment of pure surprise before turning his attention back to Janus’ face.

It looks sharper, more angular, a bit thinner, just different enough to throw him off balance a bit. But looking at Janus, his eyes screwed shut and lips pressed into a thin line, as if awaiting judgment, he can only see his husband there, not the stranger he half feared would take his place.

And the scales, well. The scales are lovely. They shimmer and shine in the light, and Patton can’t quite tell what color they’re trying to be, nor if there is any meaning to their movements across Janus’ skin, but he is captivated by them, by their twisting, shifting beauty. They almost look as if they are dancing.

So, he does the only thing he can think to do, and reaches out to caress his face.

Janus starts, eyes flying open, jerking back, but Patton pursues him, tracing his thumb across his cheekbone. The scales there are smooth and cool to the touch, just slightly bumpy, and Patton runs his fingertips across them, learning their shape and feel. Then, Janus makes a whimpering sound, and he freezes, watching him for any additional reaction.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Should I not do that? Does it hurt?”

“No,” Janus says, almost a stutter, “no. It— feels good. It’s just, I’m not used to—” He breaks off, shuddering, and he presses his face into Patton’s hand. His eyes are open wide, flitting across Patton’s face, and he realizes that his eyes have changed, too. One is the familiar, warm brown that Patton is used to, but the other is golden-yellow and slit, like a cat, or like a snake, and it’s quite possibly one of the most gorgeous things that Patton has ever seen.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says. “You’ve been so scared, haven’t you?”

At any other time, he thinks that Janus would deny it. Janus has never been one to admit to his own vulnerabilities, has always preferred to cover everything up in a layer of sarcasm and insults and misdirection, and on the worst days, even he has trouble getting him to admit that something is wrong. But now, Janus just shakes against his hand, his whole body trembling, and says nothing at all.

“I’m so sorry you felt like you needed to hide this,” he tells him. “I think you’re beautiful.”

“I have six arms,” Janus says hoarsely, as if he thinks Patton can’t see them. “Patton, I— I have scales, I have six arms, I have—”

He cuts off with a strangled gasp as Patton grasps one of his hands, one of the new ones, one of the ones hanging at his sides, and brings it up to his lips, planting a gentle kiss on his knuckles.

“They’re very nice arms,” he tells him. “And I think it’s ridiculous that I could have been having six-armed hugs this entire time. Don’t think I’m not going to have you make up for that, mister.”

Janus laughs wetly, and this time, it’s more genuine, and laced with surprise. There are tears in his eyes, Patton realizes, tears in his eyes and beginning to streak down his cheeks, and he reaches out to wipe them away on autopilot. Janus shivers every time he makes contact with a scale, but his eyes never leave his face.

“I love you,” Patton says. “I love you, all of you, no matter what you look like or what planet you’re from. I’d love you if you were a slimy tentacle alien like in the movies. I’d love you if you had an extra head, or, or a really long neck, or if you were secretly two feet tall and bright blue. And I told you on our wedding day that I would follow you to the ends of the earth, do you remember that? But I only said that because I didn’t know that going further was an option.”

He scoots a bit closer, removing his hand from Janus’ face so that he can grab two hands at once, not paying attention to which ones. Janus’ breath hitches.

“If you honestly think,” he says seriously, “that you could ever do anything to get rid of me, you’ve got another thing coming.”

And at that, Janus lets out a sob, loud and messy, and throws himself forward, colliding with Patton’s chest. It’s an awkward angle for a hug, but Patton is too preoccupied to care, is too busy bringing his arms up to hold him, rubbing circles into his back and tracing the scales he finds there. And he’s basking in the sensation, too, drinking in the fact that there are six arms hugging him right now, clutching at him tightly, holding onto the fabric of his shirt for dear life, and he has never felt so safe, never felt so warm. So he relaxes into his husband’s embrace, embraces him in turn, lets him weep and shudder against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Janus gasps out, “I’m so sorry I doubted you, I—”

“It’s okay,” Patton murmurs. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, I’ve--” He stops, his attention suddenly distracted. “Is that a tail? Do you have a tail?”

It certainly looks like one, snaking its way out of Janus’ pants, long and thin and scaled, and how he missed that, he has no idea. Janus pulls back a bit to look him in the face. His eyes are red-rimmed, his skin flushed orange rather than pink.

“Yes,” he says. “Is that… alright?”

Curious, Patton extends a hand. The tail wraps around his wrist snugly, tugging at his arm, and he giggles a bit.

“Oh goodness,” he says, in lieu of a real response, not bothering to stop the delighted grin that spreads across his face. Janus relaxes, untensing, and slumps forward again to rest his head on his chest, releasing a long, heavy sigh.

“I’m still sorry that I kept this from you,” he murmurs, and Patton glances down at him, carding his free hand through his hair.

“You don’t have to be,” he says.

“Maybe not, but I am,” Janus replies. He shifts in place, angling himself to be able to meet his eyes. And Patton once again finds himself fascinated by his heterochromia, at the contrast between the eye he knows well and the eye that is new. It’s almost a comforting sight, once that reminds him that no matter his appearance, Janus remains the man he knows and loves.

“Did you mean it?” Janus asks. “When you said that you would go further than the earth, if given the option?”

A thrill runs through him. “Are you giving me the option?”

Janus hums. “Virgil is hardly going to be content with leaving me here,” he says, and then twists around further to stare Patton full in the face. “But I won’t leave you,” he insists, voice growing vehement. “And I won’t ask you for more than you’re willing to give. If you want to stay here, then we’ll stay here. The choice is yours.”

And Patton leans forward and kisses him on the lips, soft and short and sweet. “I’ve told you,” he says. “Where you go, I’ll follow.”

And he means it. He means it more than anything else he’s said in his life. He means it with the weight of all the years they’ve spent together, all the love he has to offer. Where Janus goes, he will follow, to the ends of the earth and beyond it, and there is a whole universe out there, waiting to be explored. He will have to make arrangements, of course, will have to contact his school and figure out something to tell his parents, and perhaps he should be dreading that, but all he can feel is exhilaration. Because his husband is an alien, has surely seen so many things that are so much bigger than their little lives here on earth, and yet, he is willing to stay here, with Patton, for Patton, and all Patton would have to do is ask.

But just as Janus has chosen him, he has chosen Janus. And for Janus, he would go anywhere.

“Because you know,” he continues, “I think you’re pretty out of this world. In fact, I’d even say that you’re a real star.”

Janus snorts, messy and undignified, and Patton smiles, pleased by the reaction.

“So, how about you introduce me to your kiddo,” he says. “Without the knives, this time. And you can tell me what I should pack.”

And Janus smiles at him, sweet and joyful, one of those expressions that no one else gets to see. Despite everything, that smile is still the same.

“Okay,” he says, and stands, pulling Patton up with him. “Let’s do that.”

And Patton clasps one of his hands, and lets Janus lead him onward.

----------

End Note: There are plenty of things that I would like to explore in this ‘verse, including putting proper focus on the anxceit, having Virgil deal with suddenly having another dad, Patton continuing to adjust himself to the new circumstances, and whatever the other sides are up to. So, I’m tentatively going to label this as a series. Future installments will be under the tag ‘it’s a space opera (and oh how the arias soar)’

General Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones @snek-boii@severelylackinginquality @aceawkwardunicorn @gayerplease

#sanders sides #ts sides #moceit #parental anxceit #patton sanders #ts patton #janus sanders #ts janus #virgil sanders #ts virgil #long post #my fic #it's a space opera (and oh how the arias soar)

503 notes · View notes

mimiplaysgames · 3 years

Text

Terraqua Week Day 2 (Rivalry)

Summary: Growing up with your best friend is the greatest joy, the greatest nuisance, the greatest heartache. (The one where they kiss after their fight in Radiant Garden). || Word Count: 6,705

Read on AO3

A/N: My submission for the second day of @terraquaweek !! Title is from a quote from Eraqus from BBS. It’s pretty much the only line in the game that sums up Terra and Aqua, and it’s partly the reason why they’re so amazing. This whole rivals to lovers thing is so much like enemies to lovers and I WANT TO EAT IT ALL. I’m especially proud of this one - I had so much writing it!!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

for when equal powers clash, their nature is revealed

CHILDHOOD

It was a strange dream but she doesn’t remember it when she wakes up, just that it left her with a coppery taste in her mouth and a fog blanketing her thoughts. Something is coming, and she can’t prepare for it.

Aqua decides to tell her best friend about it.

Terra is waiting for her in the woods. They like to hike to the lake, to listen to the birds in the summer. They like to spar away from the training grounds of the castle sometimes, away from the Master’s eyes so they could practice without any scrutiny. She’s grateful to have Terra—he’s just as crazy as her when it comes to their studies. Books past midnight? Sign me up. Spar for five hours? Your ass is grass. Forgo an entire night of sleep to talk about outside worlds, about their worries, their pride, finally being a Master? We won’t be efficient for training tomorrow, but here’s what I’m thinking.

She finds him at the mouth of the forest, a trail down from the waterfall. Terra is lobbing balls of fire, an excited grin on his face, itching to get moving. Too much energy for a fourteen-year-old in the morning.

“What does that mean?” Terra asks her when she describes the dream.

Well, she can’t really describe it. Nothing happened. Darkness. Questions spoken in her head, worries that there was a darker darkness moving around in the shadows stalking her. A nagging suspicion that inside its mouth was something she should have pulled out.

“Nothing’s going to get you here. You’re safe,” Terra says, though she doesn’t need reassurance. “Should we go back?”

“No, please.” Aqua keeps her nose high. “The lake is a good place to rest.”

But they wouldn’t rest. They both love the thrill: training their magic, the thought of an upcoming exam two weeks from now, essays. They can’t help themselves.

Terra punches the air, an energy blast shooting out from his arm. Another fire spell, his favorite. When he gets too involved though, too much, he becomes obsessive—obsessed with winning, obsessed with tripping her up, obsessed with outlasting her. The fury in how he builds his attacks is what makes Terra a dangerous opponent.

He’s perfect.

Aqua dodges and summons an ice spell to repel him, sweeping her kick so it spreads out. That’s the best strategy—tire him out, make him run after her, evade and exhaust, evade and exhaust, strike him when he’s almost done.

Pull. She hears. Pull from it.

One of his attacks breaks her barrier, and she grins, twirling while she heals herself. Every moment she stumbles is another opportunity to learn how to beat him. They’ll talk about their duel after they finish. They’ll gloss over technique and how to improve. Every time they spar, their bond is reforged, connected, strengthened, unbreakable.

Terra throws another blow.

Pull.

This one catches her off guard.

Aqua gasps and shields herself with her arm without a spell to protect her. Terra chokes on her name, too late to warn her.

A light explodes in her face, a flash of flower petals, a spell so instinctual she can’t articulate where it comes from. Her hand wraps around metal, as though an invisible hand has shoved it to her, strong but as light as her feet, a thrum deep underneath, a heartbeat. Its arrival blocks the attack with a barrier.

“A-Aqua?”

She holds her Keyblade in her hand.

“Huh.” Terra grimaces, stepping back.

The Keyblade is curved, striking at the tips, like a slice of movement. Blue and silver, a cool brush of a touch as chilling as snow on her fingertips but warm all the same, the feeling of a beloved embracing her. Aqua jumps in excitement, squealing. She had drawn images in her journal for what it would look like. This is better, much more beautiful.

“I don’t have a name for it, yet,” she says, laughing.

Terra doesn’t laugh with her. “Congrats,” he says, his enthusiasm on a chokehold, his hand rubbing his hip because it can’t find his pocket.

Oh. He’s two years older than her, the first child to come to the Land of Departure, and he can’t conjure his Keyblade yet.

“Terra?”

“I’m fine.” He’s not.

“Wait.” She follows him into the thicket. He’s speedwalking, trying to get away from her. “Don’t be sad. Yours will come soon.” He doesn’t slow down. “Maybe I can help.”

Terra scoffs, scorched. At least he stops. “Or maybe not.”

Aqua fiddles with the tip of her wonderful Keyblade, rolling it onto her palm. “I was thinking how happy I was sparring with you. We’re best friends and I was thinking that…” Heat pools into her cheeks. “I was thinking we’d be best friends forever. Then she came to me. I don’t know how to explain it.”

A muscle twitches in his jaw. “That’s nice.”

“I summoned mine in the middle of danger,” she offers. “Maybe you need the same.”

He arches a brow. But he softens, blinking back tears. “You think that would work?”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t know.”

“We could tie you down. I can cover you in ice.”

Terra’s face contorts, as if stopping a snort. “That’s the best you can offer?”

“Should I hang you by your toes and put leeches in your shirt?”

Terra cracks a smirk and she sighs, relieved.

Once he’s able to summon his own Keyblade, they could go home and declare the semester over. The Master will be so impressed.

Aqua calls for an ice spell to stay near. With the Keyblade, it’s much more natural, as if the chasm she normally has to pray through is now a step away. “I won’t hold back,” she warns.

Terra brings his fists together, heat simmering off his skin as a fire spell starts to build. “Good.”

He is the first to strike. Aqua dodges as the flames lick under her shoes, swinging her Keyblade forward. Ice sparks out from its tip and shoots forward in a straight line. It’s so much easier to aim now. Terra sways his hands into a cupping motion, as if picking up dirt into a bowl. Flames burst out of the ground, creating a wall that melts the ice before it hits him.

But Terra has a huge disadvantage: because she’s faster at summoning spells with the Keyblade, she can race around him, dodging everything he comes up with. He’s stuck in one spot, forced to place all his focus on bringing his magic to him in order to pull from it, the worst kind of exposure in a battlefield imaginable.

He wants this, doesn’t he? To be pushed into summoning it?

“Don’t hold back,” he says when she hesitates. He throws a burst of thunder at her.

“Terra, I don’t like this.”

“You promised,” Terra says, closing a fist. He takes several moments to meditate on a spell, and Aqua stops. He’s trying to summon ice, a weaker command for him. But Terra is smart and Terra is capable. He pushes what he’s conjured with a force strong enough to crush her into a tree.

She clicks her tongue when he follows that immediately with a fire spell. It nearly singes her hair, and she retaliates in kind—ten fold. Her fire hits him directly on the shoulder, sputtering onto the bush behind him, spreading like wings on the greenery, blackening the tree nearby and jumping to others.

“Aqua!” Terra grips his shoulder and gapes at the collateral, which is moving too fast to seem real.

“Terra, we have to—”

“Come on!”

Ignoring his injury, he scrambles towards the lake, Aqua following close behind. The forest fire beats heavy behind them, a nasty gray suffocating the sky. The heat molts onto them, the smoke thick and invasive, visibility covered by a layer of graininess. Terra throws himself into the lake and draws a circle on the surface with his good hand. The smoke is now black.

“You need to heal first,” Aqua says, coming up behind him and placing her hand on his shoulder, whispering a spell. Green petals kiss his charred shirt, and he can move his arm better, gathering the water into an invisible bowl to carry back.

Aqua does the same. She tries sealing the fire with her Keyblade so it stops spreading so far. So much work that seems like it’s doing nothing. So much earth that Terra is throwing onto the fire when the water sizzles away. Aqua almost collapses from the adrenaline keeping her standing, from the sweat and soot filling her eyes, from coughing but no matter how much, she can’t clear her throat.

The Master finally arrives and points his Keyblade into the sky. A storm cloud gathers, a wave of water to hush everything. Aqua doesn’t know what comes next, only that Terra is picking her up in his arms.

It isn’t until after she wakes up in the infirmary that she realizes what a shithole they’ve dug themselves into.

It’s raining, trickling down the small window that sits above the bed, behind the pillow. Wooden shelves line the walls, filled with potions that she can pronounce and ones that she can’t. Some are so expired the Master has never opened them. Flasks, beakers, needles, syringes, scalpels, gloves spread across the table. Medical books about the nervous system and the heart are plenty here. There should be two about herbal remedies, but they’re gone.

She hears the Master and Terra bickering on the other side of the door.

“Am I to believe,” the Master says, icy and sharp, “the day she summons her Keyblade for the first time and a sudden, devastating forest fire is to be simply spooned together as a coincidence?”

Terra is quiet at first. “No, Master.”

“Of course not,” he bites.

“I was angry, sir.” This shocks Aqua. “I couldn’t control my magic for a moment.”

That’s not true. He needs to say it was her fault. She didn’t know her own strength and she tried too hard—

The Master scoffs. “I am so disappointed,” he says, his voice shaking in a way she’s never heard before. “I do not have the words. I can’t bear to look at you.”

Her heart sinks. She can’t imagine. She can’t imagine how awful Terra must feel.

The door opens, and Terra slips inside with a gathering of fresh herbs in his hand. His face is ashen and pale. “How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice brittle. He’s about to sob.

Aqua moves and flinches. Her arm. “Ugh.”

“Don’t move.” He rips the leaves off and stuffs them into a mortar. “Your arm is badly burnt. The Master already healed you, but you need longer term care.” Somehow, he doesn’t cry.

Aqua pulls the sheet over her down. Red splotches trail from the shoulder down to the elbow. The Master took care of the severe scarring, but it hurts like she’s still in a pyre. “The fire?”

Terra sniffs and mixes the herbs with the pestle. “The Master took care of it. He hasn’t given me my punishment yet.” Briskly, he approaches her, spreading the concoction over her skin. “This should work better than a potion.”

“Our herb master,” she says, hoping it would make him smile. It doesn’t. Terra has dedicated himself to potion making and teas, considering that healing spells are hardest for him. When he finishes balming her in the mix, he reaches for bandages, holding her by the wrist so he can wrap the entire arm. “You shouldn’t move this for a while.”

“Terra?”

He doesn’t look at her, pinning the bandages in place.

“Thank you,” she says.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

Terra climbs into the bed with her. It’s a narrow cot, the mattress thin and overused, the sheets washed too many times that its threads fray. Terra holds her good hand, bringing it up between their faces. Tears roll down his cheeks and pool on the pillow. “You’re going to be okay,” he says, “right?”

“Yeah.” She smiles. The mix soothes the superficial burns but it takes its time relieving the stabbing pain that comes with such an intense injury. “Why didn’t you tell him the truth?”

Terra frowns, staring at the folds of the pillow under his face. “I didn’t want him yelling at you.”

“I’ll tell him tomorrow—”

“Nah.” He wills a smirk and it looks fake. “We should… celebrate your accomplishment, you know?”

For some reason, it makes her guilty. “Are you really that mad at me?”

“What? No.” He bites his lip. “No, I just… I’m stupid.”

Aqua stares at him. “You’re not.”

He scoffs. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t fail at the most basic part of being a wielder.”

“Your Keyblade?”

He shakes his head. It’s not fair.

“Why didn’t it come?”

“I don’t know.” He sighs.

Aqua gives his hand a light squeeze. “Maybe I was wrong.”

“Pssh. Maybe?” He grins.

She would hit him on the shoulder, but she hurts too much. “Maybe my approach isn’t your approach.”

“Meaning what?”

“Maybe your Light needs something different.”

His smile falls, like that of a lost and abandoned child. “But I don’t know what it wants from me.”

“Hmmm.” Aqua thinks hard, staring at the way his eyebrows furrow as he thinks with her. “You like to protect.”

“Okay?”

“Maybe your Keyblade isn’t about connecting with others or making friends like mine is. Maybe you’re happiest protecting and taking care of them.”

Terra purses his lips, blushing. “I guess.”

“Look.” She lifts her bandaged elbow, wincing. “You took care of me.”

“I took care of a sap.”

“Who was the one crying over me?”

“My secret evil twin. He wants to make me look bad.”

“What kind of a joke is that?” She sticks her tongue out. “Sometimes, I hate your face.”

Terra laughs for real this time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

BEFORE THE EXAM

The books she needs are not where they’re supposed to be on the shelf.

“Terra!” she calls.

“Shhh,” she hears from the other side. Terra is sitting on one of the numerous tables in the library, a long, five-story ballroom with windows for walls, the ceiling a skylight. It allows for the sun to beam on them from all directions, on ornate gold-plated shelves with ladders on wheels for the books out of reach. Of all the desks he could have chosen, figures he’d be right here where she’s frantically searching, just to spite her. “We’re in a library,” he says, voice low.

Aqua refuses to whisper. “We’re the only ones here.”

“How rude.”

“To who?”

Terra gestures to the open book splayed under his hand. “I’m reading.”

He has seven other books stacked next to his parchment and pen. Preliminaries start tomorrow—the preliminaries that would determine their eligibility for the Mark of Mastery next year—and essays are due.

On top of the stack is Darkness and the War for Light, right above The Stars As Your Guides and the ever-necessary Affairs of the Heart.

“I need those,” she says.

“You know the rules—”

“They’re arbitrary.”

“—first dibs, first reads.”

“You can’t read them all at once.”

“Watch me, I’m impressive.” Terra bites his lip to restrain a snort, those deep eyes waiting for her reaction, his strong cheekbones suspended in a smirk. She wants to punch him in the face.

Aqua exhales. Without saying a word, she snatches the book at the top of the stack before he could stop her, bolting for the other side of the table. Terra scrambles out of his chair, tackling her from her behind so he could yank it out of her arms. She’s laughing under the weight of his chest, heat rising to her cheeks.

“You’ll have to fight me for it,” she warns.

Terra snorts, his breath brushing her shoulder. “Really?” He grips the book and pulls. He’s stronger than her and they both know it.

The trick to defeating an opponent so much larger than you is to hit them at their most exposed. Aqua elbows him in the gut, and leaves Terra clutching his side so she could take a seat at the table, where her own unfinished essay awaits.

“I guess that’s fair,” he groans.

“You sought a challenge, so accept your defeat.”

Aqua flips pages of Darkness—this year, it was especially important that they recognize signs of Darkness lurking near. Rage, scheming, impure intentions, greed, selfishness, fear. They’re present in subtle ways. Sometimes people act without realizing. Sometimes people are fully aware. Both are dangerous.

She grunts when she’s shoved over.

Terra brings his parchment with him when he fills her seat, his hips so wide that she’s left with the corner.

“It could be more comfortable,” he complains. His body is warm.

“What are you doing?”

“Writing my essay, but you took my book.”

The one he wasn’t using. Aqua inhales. “Terra—”

“I had first dibs. You broke the honor code, so you left me with no choice.” He smirks. His face is nose to nose with hers, and she imagines closing the gap. “We can share.”

“Fine,” she musters, averting her gaze. It’s awkward staring at him when his eyes look like they’re about to swallow hers.

They work. The book sits between their respective essays, the scratch of pen on paper the only noise filling the room, especially when he strikes long lines across words he no longer wants. He leans over her shoulder to read, his breath heavy on her cheek. If they were in different places, if he had her in an embrace, she could probably feel for his heartbeat.

Though this isn’t something she should be thinking about right now, not when she’s trying to read the three tenants in combating the Darkness. Vow Number One: Do not give yourself to Temptation.

“You’re very distracting,” he says, his voice so close to her ear that it sounds like yelling.

She jumps. He took the words right out of her mouth. “Speak for yourself. You’re too big for this chair.”

“There’s one right next to you.” She could hear how much he loves this.

“I sat here first.”

He leans back and wraps his arm around the backrest. “I have to defend my space.”

“Then you can squirm.”

He huffs, and it suspiciously sounds like he’s pleased with that. Aqua reads a sentence, scans the current page, and flips to the next one.

Terra swats her hand and turns it back. “I wasn’t finished with that one.”

Aqua would scream if she already didn’t enjoy this. She’ll never admit that out loud. “So you’re just,” she starts slowly, “going to police how fast I read this book?”

“Depends on where I am.”

“You’re slowing me down.”

“You’re not being considerate.”

“I can do the same thing.” She flips the page back to her spot.

“Aqua,” he warns.

“Oh, you didn’t like that?” Aqua smirks at him.

He eyes her and smiles. “You make me want to scream.”

Like a mind reader. “Don’t forget—we’re in a library.”

“Okay.” He pulls the book closer to him.

“Okay.” She pulls it back.

Terra strengthens his grip on the book, leaning forward and wrapping his other arm around her waist. To use her as a counter-weight, to push off of her so he can claim the prize, Aqua knows this, but her heart jumps at the touch. He drives her crazy in the most delicious way. He’s addictive.

“Nice to see my students finding some time for leisure,” the Master’s voice says, approaching them from the entrance. “A healthy activity during such a time of stress, if I do say so myself. I commend the both of you.”

Aqua doesn’t know about healthy when she’s thinking about all manners of touching. Terra slips away from her. Is the Master being facetious? Should they move to different chairs? Or would that make them look more guilty?

“Terra is deliberately sabotaging my essay,” Aqua says, voice shaky, her sleeve coming up to cover her blush. Terra has his elbows on the table, both of his fists hiding the lower half of his face.

Eraqus tucks a binder under his arm, glancing over their work. Aqua isn’t sure if she’s seeing things, but she swears that’s a smirk underneath his moustache.

“Well,” he says. “These will be the last essays you will write, if everything runs smoothly tomorrow. Quite a reward for all these years of hard work, yes?”

Terra and Aqua nod.

Eraqus nods along with them, as awkward as the collapse of clothes leaving you naked. “Don’t work too hard,” he advises, and Aqua wants to melt under the table. “Tomorrow will come regardless. Enjoy the time when it is good.”

The Master leaves the library with a different atmosphere.

“Last essay ever,” Terra repeats, mumbling to himself. He’s frowning. They don’t make a move to a different chair, as if doing so would have admitted some secret neither of them even know but nevertheless, they don’t want anyone else to find out. “Then there’s next year.”

Next year.

Some of Terra’s pages have whole paragraphs crossed out. Maybe that’s why he’s better than her at essay-writing. He goes beyond. He’ll scrub out parts he’s already written when he realizes they no longer serve him, drenched in ink blots when he notices small errors. Even with a complete essay, Terra will rewrite it from scratch, to prepare clean pages with no mistakes. Aqua doesn’t consider herself lazy with essays. She just never had a difficult time writing something the Master will want to read.

But all the effort Terra puts into his work means that he considers angles she’s never thought of before. On the subject of Darkness and Temptation, Terra writes: The Master of Masters writes of Temptation: “To tempt a snake for its loyalty reaps safety in the future,” (Affairs of the Heart, pg. 236). Giving in to Temptation when a Light is about to expire harbors selfishness, and that beacons the Darkness to cloud our minds. If we are doubtful, we too welcome the Darkness. However, if we deny the very thing our Hearts want, when we should be following Them as our closest allies, then we are unable to persevere. I question whether Temptation can only have negative connotations. Our duty is to make sure the Light is in balance, and perseverance is key. How are we supposed to keep the Light bright if ours are too dim? Should we not enjoy our own lives as we see fit, follow our Hearts to bring us fulfillment? Should we not make love, or enjoy the dessert we bake? These trivialities are the very thing people hold dear and protect. It is not our calling to enjoy them, but if we are, then our Hearts are at peace. If happiness is shared, then it is Light worth protecting, even our own. It feeds our strength.

Aqua can’t write like that.

Tomorrow, they’ll spar under the Master’s scrutiny. If they pass, they’ll do it again next year and finish their studies once and for all. Ever since Terra conjured his Keyblade, he’s treated his fights like he’s a bulldozer. Tricky to outmaneuver, keeping her on her toes.

He’s still the best sparring partner she could ask for, the best teacher when it comes to outlasting opponents. Her only equal.

“I’m nowhere near finished,” Aqua says.

“Looks like we’re both pulling all-nighters tonight.”

Aqua sighs, and this prompts Terra to hold her hand under the table, interlacing their fingers together. She wants to curl into him, feel what it’s like to really hold him close.

“We’re going to do fine.” Terra says, his voice soft, but he’s so close he fills her mind and every sensation in her body. He rubs her thumb with his.

“All-nighters aren’t pleasant,” she says, thinking ahead to a yard of headaches and yawns. “We’ll need energy.” This is the first opportunity to stand up. “I can make coffee and tea for us.”

“And lots of food.” Terra stands with her. “Protein. Nuts are good for energy boosts. I can make us enough meals to sustain us for the rest of the night.”

They’re speaking with the intention to leave something behind that they don’t want to address, packaging their words away from the obvious. Aqua fiddles with her fingers.

Terra moves his essay over. “Maybe we should work on opposite ends of the table,” he says, clearing his throat. His voice is shy.

“So we can focus.”

“Yeah.” He sounds desperate to agree but also…disappointed? “You can take the book. For now. Consider it my peace offering.”

“It wasn’t an honorable battle to begin with.” She moves hers over too, measuring in her mind how big of a feast they’d fill the table with. They’ll need more, enough for Ven to pig out every once in a while.

“Says the cheater.”

“You were the one stealing my book!”

“You broke the rules.”

“It wasn’t a fair setup.”

“Aqua, I’m shocked.” Terra feigns displeasure, holding his hand over his heart. “I thought I knew you better.”

She groans. She hates his beautiful, impeccable face sometimes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

THEN...

The conversation is a combustion she can’t prevent from happening. It isn’t supposed to be this way.

“And what is this dangerous task, Terra?” she asks, refusing to believe he’d test the teachings they both held so dear. After all these years. That he’d squander his chances at convincing Eraqus to give him the Mark of Mastery. “It doesn’t sound like what the Master told you to do.”

“It might be a different route, but I’m fighting the Darkness.”

“I’m not so sure. I’ve been to the same worlds as you and I’ve seen what you’ve done. You shouldn’t put yourself so close to the Darkness.”

Ven interjects. “Listen to yourself, Aqua. Terra would never—”

“You mean you’ve been spying on me?” Terra says, his eyes narrowing. To see his beautiful face this hurt—stars, she doesn’t know what she’s doing. She should shut up. “Is that what he said to do? The Master’s orders?”

What is she to do? What else does he expect? “He was only…”

Quietly, he says, “I get it,” like the silence in a coffin.

“Terra—”

“Just stay put! I’m on my own now, all right?”

“Terra, please! Listen! The Master has no reason to distrust you, really! He was just worried.”

Her words fall on deaf ears. Terra is not like this, he’s never like this, turning his back, walking away, leaving her to stand and watch him go.

“Why?” Ven asks her. “Why would you do this? You’re letting this whole Master thing get to your head.”

Terra has never said that about her, even when pushed. They’ve been pushed and pushed, how is she supposed to mend the tear now?

“I’ll be right back.”

“He’s really pissed.”

“Stay here.”

“I won’t.”

Aqua stops. A lot is changing and she can’t keep up. “But Ven—”

Ven purses his lips. “I’ll give you guys some time alone. Then I’m going after him.”

Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be. She is the odd one out, the one that shouldn’t follow Terra, the one that broke some sort of code by choosing to side with the Master. They should be on the same side.

“Be safe, please?”

Ven nods, but he isn’t happy about it.

Aqua crosses the alleyway, opening an ornate gate that leads into the town square. Radiant Garden is pretty; they arrived just in time for spring, where the dandelions are yellow and the town is painted in herbal colors. But Aqua can’t get herself to enjoy the view. She can’t appreciate the architecture, the castle, the clock tower, the townsfolk selling their wares, the gentle sunset, not when her heart is collapsing into a growing, weighted pit. Nothing else and no one else exists in the seconds she dashes down the streets.

“Terra!”

He’s heading towards the city gates, where she assumes he’ll summon his glider and fly away.

Aqua speeds up as fast as she can, feeling she’s still too slow. He’s about to disappear if she can’t break her bones and fly. She grabs him by the shoulder. “Terra, please. I don’t want the conversation to end the way it did.”

“Aqua,” he grunts, stepping out of her touch and crossing his arms. “Not now, okay?”

He’s about to turn on her. Don’t let this be the last image she sees.

She hugs him by his waist and buries her face into his shoulder. “Please don’t leave.”

He tenses.

“Please?”

She doesn’t know what to say. Apologize? For doing what’s expected of her? Shouldn’t he know this?

Shouldn’t she understand on some level, after all these years, that sometimes Terra is way more important than her duties? That she should stand up for him when it’s called for?

When Terra finally wraps his arms around her, she squeezes him tighter, hoping the loss of words would translate. How many minutes does she have left before she has to let go?

Terra splayes his hand on her back, as if to prompt her to loosen up. “I need to go.”

“There’s so much we need to talk about.” Why is her heart pounding this hard?

“I don’t want to talk about anything.”

“I feel so awful for what I’ve said.”

Terra doesn’t reply.

Aqua doesn’t know what’s gotten into her, why she can’t trust in anything, let alone the faith that their bond is unbreakable when she is witnessing how it’s cracking under the pressure. She grabs his face and kisses him, the taste of his mouth unique, warm, sweet, more than she hoped for.

Terra seizes her when he kisses back. He wants another. And another. He grunts.

They part for breath, too exposed and in public. Terra takes her aside, into a shadowed alley between a house and the city wall, pushing her against the brick to kiss her harder. She locks his neck in her arms and pulls him in. He’s so enveloped in her lips and he’s so angry, his teeth sliding and nipping barely on her skin like he’s fighting to win, his pelvis on hers, his chest pressing her, squeezing her breath away. She doesn’t want him to let her go.

He pulls away, his touch slacked. Heavy in breath, lips swollen, eyes watery, he trembles as if he’s done something awful. Aqua has her hand on his chest right over his heart, where it thrums quick and strong. He’s strong, he’s always been. She has to believe that.

“I don’t compare to you,” he croaks.

Fear churns in Aqua’s stomach, and she reaches for his wrist. “You do. You—” She doesn’t know what to say. “You shouldn’t think that way.”

Terra pulls from her, snapping their connection, leaving it cold where he was warm. It hurts. “I have to do this alone.”

“Terra—”

“Master Aqua,” he says, and her heart drops. “Please, respect my wishes. This is something I need to do if I’m ever going to—” He doesn’t finish. Instead, he turns over his shoulder, the crown of his dark hair glistening in the light of the sun where he disappears past the city gates. He doesn’t come back.

Aqua wraps her arms around herself, caressing the warmth he left behind for as long as possible before it inevitably leaves her too. She wonders if there is meaning in what just happened, wonders what he’s telling himself that would set him down this path. She’s scared of what will happen if she follows him.

She has to follow him. She has to make sure he’s alright. She prays he makes the right decisions, that they won’t have to fight.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

NOW

At night, the library is surrounded by stars. Twelve years in the Realm of Darkness and Aqua has forgotten that the library is all windows, bookshelves suspended in a birdcage on the side of the castle. It’s drizzling, droplets appearing at random, with none of the weight to drip down the glass. The lights are off, a glow polluting in from the hallway.

Terra is here, lying on a gold and white couch, the stand ornate and the cushions embroidered.

“Welcome to the insomnia party,” he says.

Aqua sits by his ankles. Terra rests his head on his arms, and lets go of the stars above the storm clouds to watch her. He leans up on one elbow and offers her a smile, but it’s a mimic of one. Who knows the reason why he can’t sleep. She won’t ask.

“Can we,” she starts, bringing her knees to her chin. “Talk?”

“We are.”

On the spot, Aqua blanks. “I don’t know where to start.”

He scoffs and unhooks his elbow, plopping back on the cushion. “Pick a place. We’ll get lost together and have to backtrack anyway.” He sighs, rolling his head towards the floor. “I can’t look at any of these books the same way again.”

Five stories of them, and not a single explanation for what happened.

“When it got tough and I needed to rely on my knowledge,” Aqua says, counting words on her essays over the years: 20,000. “I found that none of it could help us.”

“I’ve had questions ever since I started my apprenticeship,” Terra says, staring at the glass ceiling. “Many of them are still unanswered. What was the point?”

“None of it was relevant in the Realm of Darkness.”

Terra rolls over into a fetal position, burrowing his face into his arms. “So what did help?”

“Thinking of you and Ven.” The thought right now makes her smile, a little thing, a blink in the darkness.

“I thought of you every day,” he says, morosely, shyly, with a speck of hope and a mix of self-awareness. After twelve years, Aqua still knows him so well and she’s grateful he’s (almost) the same Terra she came home to.

The thought of that chokes her. “I didn’t want it to be this way,” she says. “Any of it.”

“None of us did.”

“I meant…” She pauses, watching closely. The outline of his shoulders, the shape of his brow. They’re furrowed. “Our dream was to become Masters together.”

His shoulders tick. “I should have congratulated you.”

“What?”

“When you were titled Master. I didn’t congratulate you. I’m sorry for being self-centered.”

After twelve years, that’s the last thing in her mind. “I was thinking of withdrawing the title.”

Terra shoots up, face to face with her. “Why?”

“Like I said,” Aqua whispers, now that he’s so close. “Our dream was to be Masters together.”

“No way.”

“You’re quite passionate about this.” Aqua rubs her knee. A nervous habit, something for her body to do. It used to be natural to hold his hand.

Terra slaps his forehead. “I can’t let you do that. Not after all the work you’ve done.”

“You’ve worked hard, too.”

“And everything you’ve survived.”

“What you did was not survival?”

Terra gapes. “I don’t know, but I need to own my mistakes. I should have accepted my setbacks and my weaknesses…I wasn’t a good friend to you.”

Aqua sighs. “Don’t tell me you don’t deserve it.”

“I don’t want to think about what I deserve. I only know that you deserve better.”

Deserving and not deserving sound like arbitrary definitions, markers of work ethic and integrity when everyone deserves peace of mind. “Then it sounds like you need to work really hard in the next couple of weeks.”

He blinks at her sudden change of tone. “Doing what?”

“Passing the Mark of Mastery.” She looks at her knee. “If you want me to keep my title, you have to pass.”

“You’re keeping your title regardless.”

“Pass and become Master with me.”

“Aqua,” he warns.

“That is the only condition.”

Terra leans his elbow on the backrest, and laughs into his hand. Laughs. It’s a weak and unpracticed song. She forgot what it sounded like. “You drive me crazy,” he says, “but it makes me so happy.”

She swallows. “I’ll contact Yen Sid to schedule the date.”

“Don’t get cheeky. You haven’t won this conversation.”

“Yes, I have.”

When the chuckles shared between them fade out, Terra studies her face, starting at the tip of her forehead, running his eyes down her nose and lips. The quiet is unwelcome.

“Do I look different?” Aqua asks.

“Not really.” He blinks, and it’s too dark to tell if he’s staring into her eyes. “You don’t smile like you used to. It’s like you’ve dimmed the lantern.”

“I can say the same about you,” she says. He’s tired, leaning on the couch like he can’t sit up on his own. He needs effort to speak. When he smiles, they’re delayed, as though he’s lost and needs to be reminded that he lives in reality now. He’s still beautiful. Terra doesn’t ask her to elaborate, but she supposes he understands exactly what she means. She supposes it’s the same for her.

Terra takes her hand and pulls it closer to him. “I do feel better with you around.”

Aqua grips the fabric of her stocking. “The last real conversation we had shouldn’t have been a fight.”

“It’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“Oh.” She holds her breath. “Wait, I shouldn’t be sorry for the fight or…” The kiss? She can’t bring herself to ask.

Terra smiles into his knuckles, and a spark of flame ignites his eyes. That’s what it is. Their hearts are tired. No book in the library can teach them how to bring them back to life. How to give it an ounce of oxygen to fan the warmth. Or how to provide a touch of oil, a passionate something to make it burst and remind them what it’s like to really want to hold a Keyblade. Aqua wonders if Terra’s essay on the subject is somewhere in the Master’s old office.

“You know what, I’m sorry,” Terra says, stroking his thumb on the back of her hand. “For that stupid fight. For being stupid enough to have issues with you being Master and for leaving. For being incredibly stupid for not staying in Radiant Garden with you and Ven.” He giggles again.

“Why is that funny?”

“I should have stayed and kissed you longer.” He blinks back tears, inhaling sharply in shock of what he just said. “I guess I needed to get that off my chest.”

Aqua snorts and brings a hand to her cheek. “Yeah, you should have stayed and kissed me longer.”

They say nothing else. Terra takes her face into his large hands and brings her to him, lips to lips, warmth on warmth, chest to chest, heart to heart. He breathes into her, pulling her waist in so she could lie next to him, his heartbeat loud and clear, eager and anxious. A fire grows inside her stomach—she’s forgotten she’s ever felt like this before, years ago when they’ve touched and never went further. It’s invigorating, it’s relaxing. Not a blaze born out of excitement but a gentle hearth, something more than a flicker of the flame in a lantern. Alive.

He mumbles into her ear. “By the way, I have every intention of being the better kisser.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just so you know.”

“We’re really going to be doing this with the kissing?”

“Doing what?”

“What we’ve always done.”

“There’s no contest here.”

“But you want to be the best kisser.”

“I will be the best kisser.” He smiles, digging his nose into her hair. “I must be good enough for you to enjoy it. Therefore, naturally, I have to aspire to be really damn good. That’s all.”

Aqua giggles into his chin, soft and careful and excited when his arm curls around her waist, squeezing her into him. She loves that he laughs with her. She loves his beautiful, cocky face.

They exchange small words in between, a gasp of surprises, whispers about old memories, requests for what she wants, for what he wants. Two wicks to a single candle, held gently between their hands.

#terraqua #terraqua week #aqua #terra #eraqus #OMG I REALLY LOVE THIS ONE #I hope you all too ;-;#my fic

34 notes · View notes

nightshade-minho · 4 years

Text

-Nightmare- (9)

Warnings: just some making out. Oh, and some angst.

Wc: 4k+

You stayed cooped up in your room for that entire day and the next afternoon, only coming out to heat up some frozen pizza in the microwave. You gave Minho nothing more than glances and tight nods. He tried to ignore the aching in his heart.

Sleep came fitfully that night. However in the morning, he felt himself being shaken awake, groaning as he grumbled. It was too early for this.

A few minutes earlier, you’d woken up to the sound of your phone incessantly ringing. You groaned, answering the call. “Helloo~, is this Minho? My name’s Sihyeon and I was wondering- ”

You sighed at the unfamiliar high voice, getting out of bed and going to Minho’s room, climbing onto his bed to shove him awake, phone still in hand.

He whined, shoving your hand away.

“Minho, wake up!”

“Whyyyy?” He asked, still half asleep, frowning as he refused to open his tightly shut eyes.

You crawled closer, kneeling on the bed as you poked his side. “Come onn, you have a ca-” You yelped when he grabbed your hips, flipping you over to his other side and pulling you close. He smushed your face against his chest, not letting you wriggle out of his grasp.

You stopped struggling after a few seconds. “I hate you.” You mumbled, as his soft snores slowly resumed.

You knew you were supposed to be getting over him, but it was so hard. He was so soft and warm...no. You told yourself again that he didn’t deserve your love. However, it was easier said than done, especially when you shifted a little, causing him to open his eyes slowly, gazing down at you. God, he has pretty eyes. When he noticed the position you were in, he quickly peeled himself away, sitting up with wide eyes.

“S-sorry...” He stuttered, averting his eyes.

You sighed, the loss of his warmth mimicking the coldness you felt in your heart. “It’s fine.” You sat up, stretching a little bit and yawning as you grabbed your phone. “Someone called asking for you. Her name was Sihyeon, I think.”

“Oh. I had sex with her like two weeks ago. She’s been bothering me ever since.”

You exhaled. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“Come on, Y/n, everyone in school knows I only do one-night stands. And she wasn’t good enough to be a fuckbuddy.” He says honestly. “She should know my reputation by now. And hasn’t she heard I have a girlfriend?”

You groaned, rubbing your temple. “Speaking of which...when are we going to tell everyone that we broke up?”

He looked up at you, a flash of hurt in his eyes.

“Oh. I kind of forgot about that. Maybe a week from now?”

“Or...we could just break up right after the dinner. I don’t feel comfortable staging a scene in public...and I don’t want this to go on for any longer than it has to.”

“What?”

“Well, if it happened in front of Rina, I think she��d be less suspicious. We could like, stage a fight. Knowing Rina, the news would be all over campus in a second.”

He frowned, “I...guess.”

You gave him a tight smile, getting up to leave. He watched you, his hands twitching to grab your wrist, pull you back and tell you what he felt. But he couldn’t. He returned the awkward smile, a lump in his throat as you turned at the door.

“I’ll get ready at 7:00.”

You closed the door.

***

That evening, you sat in your room, looking in the mirror. Today, it would all be over. However, you knew the two of you could never go back to the way you used to be. Too many lines had been blurred.

You’d given up, more or less. This love was pointless. At this point, you didn’t even care about getting together with Minho. You no longer wanted him to fall for you the same way you did. All you wanted was your old friendship back. You missed the purity and love that used to be so abundant in your friendship.

You fixed the dress. It was black, sleeveless and had a skater skirt. Plain, except for some embroidered detail around the neckline.

You worried for a moment that you might be underdressed, but then reminded yourself that you didn’t have a reason to care. You brushed your hair and sat at your vanity, deciding to apply just a little bit of makeup. At least you could say you put in a little bit of effort. However, as you reached for your makeup pouch, your eyes landed on the polaroids you’d stuck on the mirror.

In one, 8 year old Minho was laughing with an ice cream cone in his hand, pointing a finger and laughing at your crying form, the scoop of ice cream previously on your cone now languishing on the floor. The camera had missed how he’d given you his cone soon after.

The other one had been taken by your mom, right before prom. Minho had been asked out by the popular girl who’d eventually ended up as the prom queen, however he’d said No. He’d known you were dateless. You chuckled at your braces-clad smile. Minho looked confident and smart in his suit, as always.

Along with the polaroids, there was a framed photo, taken after your 13th birthday party. It was your favorite photo out of them all, and also the one that hurt the most at the moment. In it, you were smiling, holding a peace sign up to the camera. Around your neck was a thin rose gold chain, a tiny treble clef hanging from it. Minho’s gift. Usually, you two didn’t really give each other gifts, choosing to make or draw something instead. It allowed more room for personalization and was more effort-inducing.

However, Minho had told you that 13 was your lucky number, and hence he had to put in a little effort into the gift for that particular birthday. He’d been saving up the money to buy it for 2 years. Minho was sat next to you, fondness evident in his eyes as he gazed at your grinning face.

God, it fucking hurt. You slowly peeled off all the polaroids, putting them all into the box along with your hairties, shutting it. You put the frame inside a drawer, exhaling.

You hadn’t worn that necklace for a while. You stopped wearing it around the time the two of you started college. Around the time you realized you loved him.

It was too painful to see a reminder of Minho every time you looked in the mirror. You told him you’d lost it. His expression had been indifferent when you told him. You’d even offered to repay him the cost, but he’d refused.

You bent down, pulling open the bottom drawer and lifting a box. Setting it in front of you, you sifted through the random items placed in it, pulling out the jewelry box at the bottom. Opening it, you felt your heart clench at the sight of its familiarity, and all the memories it dredged up. You lifted it out carefully, teary eyes trying to focus on your reflection as you fastened it around your neck, hands shaking a little.

You stared at your neck, touching it gently. You missed the feeling of the delicate metal against your skin.

***

When you walked out of your room, Minho felt his heart beat faster. Yeah...he’d thought you looked hot in your party outfit. But this? This was more you. The simple, clean lines of your dress...the way your hair was bouncy and natural...

Wait.

His eyes zeroed in on the necklace. His necklace.

He didn’t know what to make of it. His heart was pounding so fucking fast.

“I...thought you lost that.” He could feel a lump in his throat at the sight.

Your parents had gifted you your first guitar when you were eleven. The first time Minho heard you play, he’d known music was your true calling. And his was dance. It was almost like it was meant to be.

He’d been walking by a jewelry shop when he’d seen the necklace in the display window. It had reminded him of you almost immediately. He’d gone in, his heart dropping when he realized just how expensive it was. However, he didn’t wanna give up just yet.

So he started doing errands around the neighborhood. Walking the neighbors’ dogs, mowing lawns, etc. Small odd jobs that didn’t pay very well...but in two years, he’d somehow managed to earn enough money to buy it, just in time for your 13th birthday.

Words couldn’t express how happy he’d felt when you wore it every day for the next fourteen years. Then one day, you told him you lost it. What hurt wasn’t the fact that you lost it, it was your expression when you said it. As if it wasn’t really a big deal.

You followed his line of sight, touching your necklace. “Oh, this? I was looking through some of my old boxes and I found it.” You said with a soft smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice your red eyes.

“Oh.” He paused, looking like he was thinking, his heart doing somersaults.

Coming a little closer, he backed you up against the door a bit. Confused, you looked up at him questioningly, your heart thudding due to his propinquity. His fingers traced your neck, causing you to shudder as he lifted the studded clef hanging from it, his eyes holding an expression you couldn’t quite discern.

“Don’t lose it again.” He said sternly, eyes drilling into yours.

You nodded, staring up at him with your lips slightly parted.

Fuck, there it was again. That innocent expression that made him go crazy, made him want to ruin you. Before he could even realize what was happening, he was leaning in.

“M-minho?”

He opened his eyes, his expression disconcerted as he pulled away quickly, coughing. “Sorry.” He mumbled, cheeks burning.

You shook your head, “N-no, it’s okay.” You tried to calm your heart, peeling yourself off the door and fixing your dress. He nodded expressionlessly, heading to the sofa and sitting on it.

“So. Do you have a plan? What are we gonna do?”

You hummed, walking a little closer and sitting on the sofa, keeping some distance between the two of you.

“Well...I didn’t really think much about it. Hmm...however we do this, I think we should portray you as the good guy. I should be the unreasonable one. The whole point of this was to clear your reputation, right?”

Minho nodded. “I guess...so what are you planning to do?”

“I guess I’ll just pretend to be irritable and annoyed at you the whole time. Maybe I’ll make a big deal about you flirting with Rina or something. Just be polite, be yourself. I’ll handle everything else.” You sighed.

There’s silence for a few minutes, before Minho scoots a little closer. You turned to face him, breath hitching at the proximity.

He placed his hand on top of yours on the sofa, wrapping his fingers around it and placing it on his lap.

“I’m sorry.” He stared into your eyes. “For everything. For disregarding our friendship, for forcing you to fake-date me, for being an asshole, and taking advantage of your goodness. I’m sorry about...what happened after the party. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. Just...stay, please. Please. I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

You saw the sincerity in his eyes, swallowing the nausea as you inhaled. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why don’t you wanna lose me?”

He cocked his head to the side. He hadn’t expected you to ask that question. He thought about it for a minute, his other hand resting on top of your already intertwined ones.

“Hmm. You should already know by now, but okay.” He inhaled. “You mean a lot to me. I literally grew up with you. You’re all I know...you’re my girl, okay?”

You stared at him, opening your mouth and closing it. He scratched his neck. Fuck. He had more to say, but your dumbfounded expression was making him rethink that.

“Uh...I m-mean...you know. You’re my best friend. I value our friendship a lot, so please...I don’t wanna be the one who fucks this up. I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I do. Please, give me another chance.”

“Oh.” You tried to mask the disappointment in your voice. Your heart felt stuffed, but your brain was telling you that this was a good thing. He apologized, and promised to change. Wasn’t that enough for you? Minho wasn’t obligated to be in love with you.

You put a smile on your face. “Okay. I’m sorry, too. I played a part in all of this, as well. We’ll...we’ll make this work, Minho.”

He grinned, letting go of your hand to get up, glancing at his watch. “We should go.”

He looked back at you, holding his hand out. “Best friends?” He asked hopefully.

“Best friends.”

***

Minho had one hand on the steering wheel, glancing at you from time to time with a stupid grin on his face. You weren’t mad at him anymore, and that was a start.

You looked so pretty. He liked how you looked both sexy and cute at the same time, the skirt of your dress flowy, yet the spaghetti straps showing off your smooth shoulders...and the best part about it was the necklace around your neck. Somehow, he felt like it marked you as his better than the hickeys did. The marks on your neck had faded a bit, but were still slightly visible...something he was very happy about.

“Um, Minho...eyes on the road, please.”

He chuckled, focusing his gaze back to the road as you pulled your skirt down a little. “It’s down this road, right?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay.” He stopped the car, unfastening his seatbelt and stepping out, walking around to open the door for you.

“Hmm. The place looks nice.”

You shrugged, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Listen, Y/n...you don’t have to do this. We’ll come up with something else, I mean...I don’t want you to come out of this looking like the bad guy.”

“Minho, we can’t come up with anything. We’re already here. Just...let me do this.” You sighed, looking up at the number plate on the door. “Mm. This is the one.” You rang the doorbell.

He nodded, a little nervous. He decided to button up one of the three buttons he’d left undone. You looked at him, pouting. “Why’d you do that? You looked better with it undone.”

He blushed, opening his mouth to respond when the door was opened.

“You guys! Right on time!” Rina gushed. She had on a tight fitting red dress, matching red lipstick and pearls on her ears, as well as around her neck. Her hair was in an immaculate bun. Was she overdressed or were you underdressed?

You turned your eyes away from Minho, opting to smile politely at her. “Thanks for inviting us.”

You glanced at Minho. If you hadn’t known Minho well, you would have thought his smirk was genuine. However, you could see the layer of nervousness behind it.

“Come in, you two. I’ll get the plates ready.”

She beckoned you in. The apartment looked the same as the last time you’d been there, only cleaner.

As you followed Rina in, you saw the backs of a guy and a girl sitting on the couch, chatting to Juyeon who was standing next to them. Rina followed your line of sight. “Oh...sorry, I invited one more couple to join. I hope you don’t mind.” She glanced at Minho. “You know them, right? I mean, I know you know Mera well. And Hyunjin’s your friend.”

Oh.

Minho nodded. “Yeah.”

You breathed in. You didn’t want to put up an act in front of two more people...you’d already been nervous, but now you were more so.

“Ah, Y/n! You look nice.” Juyeon said, winking at you and causing Minho to shoot him a glare. Did this guy have an ounce of shame?

Mera and Hyunjin both gave you awkward smiles which you returned, thanking Juyeon as Rina gestured to the couch.

“Wait here, okay? I’ll go get the table ready. Y’all can talk while I’m gone.” She smiled, before leaving and going into the kitchen.

There was an awkward silence in the room as she left.

You glanced at Mera , who was wearing a shimmery blue-green dress that made her look stunning. She cleared her throat. “Um, hi guys. How are you?”

“We’re doing alright.” Minho spoke monotonously. He looked at Hyunjin, pointing between the two with a clenched jaw. “When did this happen?”

Hyunjin paused for a moment. “Hmm...at the party.”

“Um, I didn’t see you-”

“I came upstairs after you two left.” He chuckled. “Speaking of which, good night, I assume?”

Minho looked at you, surprised to see you shrug, smiling. “It was pretty good.” You grinned.

Mera’s eyes narrowed as she saw Minho swallow, leaning back against the sofa.

You sat up a little, wondering how you should segue into an argument. You were second-guessing it now. You weren’t feeling the same eagerness you felt earlier in the morning to fake-break up with Minho, especially when the two of you had more or less made up.

Mera gave you a small smile. “Just good? I couldn’t walk for weeks whenever Minho and I had sex.” She giggled, missing the awkward atmosphere in the air as she uttered the words.

Minho glanced at you. The annoyance in his expression was subtle. You rolled your eyes, turning back to Mera and giving her a fake smile.

Juyeon coughed, straightening up a bit. “TMI, Mera.” He chuckled, giving you another wink, which Minho thankfully missed as his gaze was directed to you. He picked up on the fact that you were uncomfortable. He moved closer, putting his hand on your thigh and squeezing reassuringly as Hyunjin asked Juyeon something, the three talking among each other.

Minho took the chance to turn to you. “Look, we had no idea she’d invite more people. You don’t have to do anything. We don’t have to be in a rush. Just let me handle it.” He whispered, making you feel a lot lighter. You relaxed, your stiffness melting, along with your heart as Minho smiled at you.

Rina came back into the room, honey-sweet smile present on her face like always. “It’s ready! Come on, guys.”

***

A few hours had passed. The dinner wasn’t as bad as you’d expected it to be. In fact, it was suspiciously good...everything from the food to the people. Surprisingly, you found conversation to be alright. You really liked Hyunjin. He was a nice guy, maybe a little overdramatic... (especially when he’d taken a bite of pasta that had been too hot) but overall, you could tell that he had a good heart.

Mera, despite flirting a little too brazenly with Minho from time to time, wasn’t bothering you much. Besides, Juyeon’s flirting was somehow even more brazen, his winks and smirks all directed to you. The weirdest part was that somehow Rina looked completely oblivious to it all.

When you finally finished eating, you were feeling pretty full. The food had definitely been ordered from out...there was no way Rina was capable of that level of cooking.

Hyunjin sighed. “That was really good, Rina.” He said, prompting some nods and appreciative moans.

“Thank you.” She giggled.

Mera set her fork down. “I really have to be going, I’ve got an appointment early tomorrow morning. Rina, you coming?”

“Nah, I’m staying with Juyeon today.”

“Okay. Dinner was amazing. We should really do it again.” She leaned down to press a kiss to Hyunjin’s cheek. “Bye, Juyeon, Minho.” She made eye contact with you, smiling warmly. “Y/n.”

Once she left, it was just the five of you. Minho looked at him, a questioning look on his face, asking you if you wanted to leave.

You were about to nod when Juyeon interrupted the silence. “Minho, we haven’t been seeing you at the studio these days.”

“I’ve been busy...not really in a mood for dance.” He said, running a hand through his hair.

“You? Not in a mood for dance?” Hyunjin asked, laughing. “That’s not something you hear often.”

“Y/n, what have you been doing to him?” Rina sneered, chuckling. You were about to speak when Minho spoke up. “She didn’t do anything. What part of ‘not in the mood’ do you not understand?” He snapped.

There was silence as Rina glared at him, clenching her jaw. “Woah man, calm down. We were just joking around.” Juyeon said, sitting up.

“I’m sure you were.” Minho rolled his eyes, getting out of his chair. “Where’s the bathroom? I’m going to wash up.”

He left the room. You glanced at Rina. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Whatever.” Rina said, rolling her eyes and gathering up the plates, leaving for the kitchen with a scowl on her face.

Hyunjin cleared his throat. “Well...it was a really nice dinner.” He said awkwardly. He turned to Juyeon. “See you tomorrow, man.” He looked towards you, smiling genially. “It was nice getting to know you better, Y/n. I’m surprised Minho didn’t introduce us to each other earlier.”

You nodded, grinning at him. “Me too. Anyway, I look forward to spending more time with you.” Hyunjin winked at you. His wink wasn’t flirty like Juyeon’s but a rather friendly one.

After Hyunjin left, you decided to move to the living room, sitting on the sofa and waiting for Minho to be done so you could leave already. Juyeon was watching you, coming over and sitting opposite you on the sofa. His gaze was heavy, and you were being careful to avoid it. Juyeon was attractive, sure...but you didn’t like the way he kept constantly flirting. Wasn’t he and Rina supposed to be a thing?

“Hmm...must be nice dating the biggest fuckboy on campus.” Juyeon laughed.

You looked at him. “Um...”

He moved uncomfortably closer, placing his hand on your thigh. “You know, you deserve a lot better.”

You shook your head, trying to get up and move away, but he grabbed your wrist, pulling you back down. His expression was angry. “Come on, Y/n...why are you rejecting me?” He asked with a puzzled expression...as if he was genuinely confused.

You glowered at him, trying not to snap. “Because I have a fucking boyfriend?” You said, your tone icy.

Jesus, why was Minho taking so long?

His eyes widened, before he breaks into a laugh, slapping his knee as he threw his head back. You watched, brows furrowed. “Why are you laughing?”

He wiped a tear away, shoulders still shaking a lot. “I know you’re innocent...but I didn’t think you were quite this gullible.”

“What?”

He shrugged, letting go of your wrist. “Why don’t you go find your boyfriend.” He said, his voice calm.

You frowned, lifting yourself off the sofa as you made your way to the bathroom, Juyeon watching from the sofa with an amused expression.

You knocked a few times, with no answer. Pushing the door open, you found no one inside.

And that’s when you heard the moan.

Your heart beating and brain filled with white noise, you walked in the direction of the sound, your suspicions being confirmed when you saw the bedroom door ajar.

The scene inside made you feel nauseous. A terrible sense of deja vu enveloped you as you watched Rina running her hands over his chest as she sat on his lap...his shirt completely unbuttoned, the two of them making out furiously as he gripped her waist.

You hated the way your body was shaking as you watched, the two still oblivious to your presence. Your heart felt like it was crumbling. You couldn’t help the sob that broke out of you at the sight, making them finally separate, Minho’s eyes turning to you and widening as they saw your crying face.

“Fuck you.” You managed to croak out, wrenching the necklace off your neck, throwing it at his feet and walking away, past Juyeon, avoiding eye contact. You didn’t wanna look back, didn’t wanna see his smug expression. All you were focused on was leaving that place as fast as you could.

As you half-walked, half-ran out into the night air, you swore as you realized it was raining. You could feel your makeup running down your face, the raindrops mixing with your tears.

Why did you feel so broken inside? Minho wasn’t your actual boyfriend, so it wasn’t like he’d actually cheated on you. Maybe...because somewhere deep inside, you’d stupidly thought that he actually did have feelings for you. Your conversation back home had sparked the tiniest bit of hope in you. God, you were so fucking stupid.

It was all hopeless. Fucking hopeless. You had to learn to accept that, sooner or later.

Somehow, you would.

658 notes · View notes

buckysflannelpajamas · 3 years

Text

Bleeding Hearts

Summary: Being Tony Starks daughter has its pros and cons. One of the pros being you get to live with your best friends, the Avengers. One of the cons you will soon find out is having to deal with the one and only, James Buchanan Barnes...

Takes place during the imaginary time after Civil War where everyone love in the tower and goes through to Endgame.

Trigger warning: Talks of depression/depressing thoughts

Chapter 5

2nd person POV

Fading. That's how you describe the feeling when you start to stoop into a depressive episode. You can feel your emotions fading to numbness, and eventually an all encompassing emotional down. Each avenger has their own way of trying to help you through it. Honestly you want to be left alone for the most part, alone to dwell in the sadness you think you deserve. It was harder when you first decided to move back into the tower after living on your own when you had been released from the hospital. In the beginning, you couldn't even get a moment alone. But eventually everyone got into a pattern of how they help you deal with your depression.

Wanda and Vision make you baked goods. Mainly strawberry cupcakes. Wanda comes to deliver them to your room every morning, and subtly implies she will be going shopping later and hinting at you coming. It worked a total of one time. But after having a mental breakdown in the Gucci dressing room you realized it probably wasn’t best for you to be in public when you feel this way.

Steve and your dad are always the most worried. They check on you multiple times a day. Steve also draws you caricatures of avengers and writes something funny underneath them. This is the closest Steve has ever gotten to understanding memes. Tony on the other hand tries to lure you out of your funk by bribing you with a trip to your favorite Korean food restaurant in South Korea via his private jet.

Pepper sends you flowers. The two of you aren’t close and aren't overly fond of eachother. You assume she mainly sends the flowers to please Tony.

Peter constantly sends you memes throughout the day, which you mostly ignore.

No one knows where Thor and Bruce are so it’s safe to say they don't know when you’re suffering, and no one wants to call Clint just to inform him you’re sad again.

Uncle Rhodey usually finds out because Tony needs to vent to someone about his worries. What he does for you by far one of the coolest things. He has a military buddy of his hack into the computers of major entertainment companies so you can see blockbuster movies before they are released.

Natasha, who is sort of a mother figure to you though the two of you would never admit it, comes to you late at night when your insomnia kicks in. Neither of you speak, she simply sits down on your bed beside you and braids your hair while the TV show ‘how it’s made’ plays softly in the background. The two activities always help you to sleep. And on the nights you can’t stop crying, she’ll lie there with you, rubbing your back like a mother calming her child until her tears stop.

Finally, Sam comes in the moment you need it most, right when you are so tired and drained that you’re ready to open up about how you're feeling.

It’s day 3 of your depression and you have just reached that point. Somehow, Sam always knows when you’re ready.

You’re sitting up in bed, bundled up in an exuberant amount of blankets and staring blankly at the wall in front of you. Your mind drifts through a series of depressing thoughts.

Pathetic.

Worthless.

Burden.

These are the words that are most consistently in your mind.

For a moment you consider no longer taking your meds. Sometimes it feels as though they don't work anyway.

That’s when you hear the knock outside your living room door.

“Friday, tell Sam he can come on in.” You mumble to the disembodied AI, your voice raw from all the crying you’ve been doing.

“Of course, miss.” Even Friday sounds saddened by your less than pleasant mental state.

You don’t bother to wipe your tears away, you would be crying soon again anyway.

You hear Sam make his way through your front door, passing through the living area and opening the door to your room.

You notice Sam holding a steaming plate of eggs, sausage, and hash browns in one hand. He must have found out from Friday that all you’ve really eaten this week is Wanda and Visions strawberry cupcakes.

“I would have brought some OJ too but then I wouldn’t have been able to open the door.” Sam jokes. He takes a quick glance around your room, trying to gauge how bad the episode is. Used tissues cover the floor by the right side of the bed. Worn pajamas are strewn around on the floor and the pile of clothes you leave on your chair hasn’t been cleaned up. You usually clean it once a week. Not to mention your greasy hair makes it obvious that you haven’t showered in a few days.

“Pretty bad, huh?” Sam asks.

“Yeah.” You answer honestly. You don’t need to bullshit with Sam.

He takes a seat by you on the bed, placing the food in front of you. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, but-“

“But you feel like you deserve the pain?”

“You know that.” You sigh.

“Tell me why.”

“You know why too.”

Sam pushes a fork in your hand. “I’m trusting you with this.” He jokes, earning an actual laugh from you before moving on. “I have a general idea, but I don’t like to make assumptions.”

You poke at the eggs with your fork. “I-“ it’s hard to speak. You know at any moment you’re going to break out sobbing. “I feel so weak.” You choke out. “I put the whole team at risk by being naive enough to think a guy wouldn’t try drugging my drink at a crowded party. Even if it is my house.”

Sam doesn't speak yet. He always waits for you to let it all out.

“How could I be so fucking stupid?!” You sob. “I was selfish. Why do you all even keep me around? I’m a liability and a burden to the team. I hate that about myself and I hate that I’m so weak! I hate that no matter how hard I train, I’ll never be strong like any of you! And I know that that’s also selfish because you all went through so much pain to be what you are, but I can’t help but feel insignificant. I’m just some dumb fucking artist that sits around all day doddling while you all are actually doing something meaningfull in the world!” There it is. The root of what triggered your episode. It’s not just about Authur. It's about the fact that you can’t protect yourself. It’s the constant feeling of insignificance that lingers in the back of your mind.

Sam puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes it gently. “First of all, you’re not just some dumb fucking artist.” He quotes you. “You are a world renowned artist and you should be proud of it. More importantly, you are not insignificant or a burden. Ok? If we didn’t want you around, you wouldn’t be here. We all love you and want you to be here with us. You’re part of our family. You might not be on the front lines, but you do more for the world than you know.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah I doubt that.”

“I mean it.” Sam Insists. “You said so yourself that you know how much pain we’ve been through. How do you think the avengers would keep it together without their own little therapist.” He laughs lightly.

You furrow your brows. “Um, Sam, I’m not a therapist. I can barely keep myself together.”

“You might not be licensed but you are always there for us. Getting us to talk through our thoughts and feelings. Giving us advice and helping us come to a resolution.”

“That’s what friends are for.” You shrug.

“Yeah well friends don’t usually have to deal with their other friends' war trauma and helping them deal with finding out their best friend they thought was dead is actually alive and actively trying to kill them.”

You stay silent for a moment. “I guess that’s true.”

Sam pats you lightly on the back. “You keep the avengers sane so that we can help the world. Which is just as important.”

Finally, you take a bite of your eggs. “I disagree that it’s just important but I know that argument won’t go anywhere, so I’ll just accept it.”

“I know that this conversation won’t solve all of life's problems, but maybe it helped you feel good enough to to get up out of bed? Maybe get up and take a shower? No offense, but you don’t exactly smell like daisies.” He laughs.

You shove Sam in the arm. “Hey! You should take a whiff of yourself after you come back from a mission.”

“Touché.” Sam pauses, noticing something on your bedside table.

“Sour gummy worms? That’s not part of your usual routine…” Sam trails of, reaching over you to grab the box of candy before you have a chance to stop him.

“Wait-”

It's too late, he sees the note written in scribbly cursive on the piece of paper attached to the back of the box.

“Who’s this from?” He asks curiously, hoping from your bed and moving around as you chase him down, frantically trying to remove the letter from his grasp.

“Sam stop!”

“Dear y/n,” Sam starts to read aloud. “I don’t pity you. I relate to you. When I said I’m sorry I meant it.”

You jump, reaching for the letter but Sam moves it high above his head.

He continues to read. “I meant to tell you sorry before the party. I only blew up at the hospital because I was mad at myself for letting someone on the team get hurt. I shouldn’t have been such an asshole to you. I know it’s a lousy excuse but I was just jealous of your happiness. If you give me the chance, I’d like to make it up to you. I heard you like Star Wars. I haven’t seen the movies… maybe we can watch them sometime? Sincerely, James Buchanan Barnes.”

Sam looks at you with the biggest shit eating grin on his face. “You two got a movie date?”

You finally snatch the candy and letter from his hand. “See this is why I didn’t want you to read it! I knew you would take it that way.” You pout.

“How else am I supposed to take it?” Sam laughs.

“Like a guy with a guilty conscience is trying to be nice to the sad girl.” You say as if it’s the most obvious thing ever.

“You can be so blind to some things.” He shakes his head.

You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?”

Sam takes a seat back down at the end of your bed. “Everyone living in the tower can tell he has the hots for you.” He pauses in thought. “Expect for Tony. Barnes would be as good as dead if he knew.”

“You’ve been talking to Nat and Wanda, haven’t you?”

“And Steve and Vision.” He grins. “We have a whole group text dedicated to the conversation.”

“Great.” You groan, rubbing your temples as you take a seat by Sam on the bed.

“Look, you don’t have to believe me. But you should at least give him a chance to make it up to you. I’m not Barnes biggest fan, but he’s really not a bad guy.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Sam interrupts you.

“Just think about it, ok?” Sam gets up from your bed, making his way to the door. “And take a shower in the meantime! You stink little sister!”

You grab a pillow and throw it at him, the pillow only managing to hit the door as he closes it.

“And eat some food too!”

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #sam wilson #bucky barnes x stark!reader #bucky barnes x reader

32 notes · View notes

ricaffeine · 4 years

Text

𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐎𝐧𝐞

an: i'm sad because of hyunji drought and this is helping me cope :( but fr if tvn decides to make hotel blue moon then yeaji needs to be in it!!

also very annoying, i can't reply to comments bc this is a side blog (bruh wtf tumblr, i'm so sad should i make a new one?) reblog if you feel like it and my asks are open if you wanna chat 🖤✨

CHAPTER TWO

Weekdays at Seoul's National art gallery were usually the same. Buzzing curators dealing with hot-tempered clients. One thing or another was typically going not right and art directors cried about their wrong coffee order.

Although today was not the usual as to the crowds of bubbly news reporters and dazzled art critiques swarming up the wide place. As to Munyeong on the other hand, she was not pleased to the slightest.

"Just smile at the cameras, don't forget about the paycheck you're getting today." Sangin repeated himself for the fifth time. "Don't cause a scene, just think about the money."

Ah right. The paycheck.

As to The Nightmare Garden was bid off for over ten-million dollars, all of today's fanciness was dedicated to her, nation's celebrated female illustrator. However in all honesty, Munyeong barely liked her so-called masterpiece, but considering the amount of cash it will make her, she could be appreciative for the sake of it.

Behind her oversized sunglasses, Munyeong glared at her pesky manager– if looks could kill, he'd already be eleven feet under his grave. Sangin shut his mouth.

"Let's just get this over with," she simply responded, hooking off her eyewear then strutted into the hall with her long legs. Eyes whipped at her and cameras started to flash intensely, almost blinding her and Munyeong wondered how much those little pests could afford her if they got her blind.

And so the event played on. More pictures were taken– as if they hadn't blind her enough cheerful compliments flowed along with the spring breeze. The insincere joker smile she mastered whilst she met her million-dollar client– according to Sangin a hotel owner, though the woman did not have the looks for it– and the glass of filthy wine she almost had a chance to taste if Sangin's sixth sense was not so creepily fast.

Another dreadful two hours later as the dusk had set, hitting the edges with its golden flare, everyone had left. They got their articles and Munyeong will certainly be getting her pools of cash.

To her displease Sangin had informed her to wait as he had to take care of some paperworks she doubted he went to bribe the press into censoring her quoted inappropriate words.

Nevertheless it was not her bother. She gave his plead a second before storming off to the complimentary section of the building.

Luck on her side, for nobody was there and she was able to grab one of the wine bottles with her– as for a fact it definitely was not stealing.

"Don't be shy, I know you want it."

Munyeong stopped within her steps as soon as an obnoxiously familiar voice echoed from the gallery she previously was in. Curiosity taking the lead, she peaked through the corner and had to muffle her own snort. Stood there, nation's art historian with the sharpest tongue– Choi Seojin.

She finds it hard to believe that his articles are highly known around, or even relevant, when his mouth is full of complete shit. However not disregarding the nastiest tea yet– a frightened girl seized under him. Her hands were locked, frightened eyes grew larger as the man spewed out nasty things.

Instantly, she took out her phone to film the disgraceful scene. Munyeong grinned to herself, reminiscing the rage she felt last time when he mentioned about her mother, and how her irritating manager had interrupted her before she could've sent him down the stairs to Satan.

The man reared into the poor girl's cheek when she attempted to fight him off, and Munyeong's smile dropped.

That piece of shit.

Munyeong entered the room, arms crossed, head high. Her wedge heels clicked against the hardwood as she let out an unamused wow.

Mad dog– what she personally thinks he should be called– 's head whipped at her with wide eyes. Like a child getting caught of lying.

"Oh my. Your hobbies are quite interesting Mr. Choi. Talking shit and sexual harassment?" Munyeong spat. "The girl looks like she'd rather kill herself, why are you even trying?"

As if he thought he could get away with what he just did, mad dog released his foul grip on the girl. Munyeong clicked her tongue and tauntingly held out her phone.

"Oh no, don't bother pretending. Judging by the looks, that won't even favor you at this point." She spared a glance at the quivering girl. "Why are you waiting? Go."

Shakingly and with thankful eyes she nodded and left, her footsteps filling void of silence before it coated the air again.

Mad dog snickered, as if there was something to laugh about. "Don't mess with me Ms. Ko. You know me, I won't die alone."

"Certainly I'll drag you and Mr. Lee down with me. Why do you think they call me the suicide bomb?"

Munyeong walked towards him and spreaded a smile, though even dogs could tell you shouldn't push her further. "You mean the bastard you can't fall down without dragging everyone else with him? Why?"

"I can destroy your career with the tip of my pen, I'm sure you know." He gave her a look, panning out his hand. "Now if you hand me your phone, I think we can compromise something."

Munyeong unraveled her arms, eyes hardening at his next sentence. "You think so?"

"Nation's beloved artist turned out to have antisocial personality disorder. What do you think will happen when people find out?" Mad dog sneered. "Her mother who mysteriously commited suicide–"

"Shut up." She warned. His words lit up the flame from their last encounter, adding fuel to her burning fire. Her head pounded, hard. For a moment she had hoped that if he proceeded as she said, then things would not have to get ugly.

"And her father? Spending his last days in the psychiatric hospital."

But men never listen, do they?

Munyeong tightened the hand around her bottle and striked it at him with full force. The bottom part crashed the wall behind him– just above the hung painting- glass shattered as rich burgundy stained its way down, smearing all over. Its taste fused with the air and Munyeong glowered at the creature who dodged her flawless aim.

"You crazy bitch!" He yelled, scrambled on the floor. But Mad dog was quick to lunge at her, they both hit the ground, stumbling as her open purse had been knocked away– and Munyeong's eyes landed on something very specific.

She was quicker, getting on her feet and spared the bastard a strong kick in the groin, leaving him groaning as she reached for her pen.

Her favorite calligraphy pen– its lining was stunning, coated in shiny teal with hints of gold, but most importantly, the dangerously sharp tip. The way it writes like reaping out blood from your hand– hence why it is a favorite.

She hawled back over and he screamed at her, though she didn't hear him. Her head was light as she felt blood rushed through her veins. Munyeong raised her arm and struck it back down.

Die.

Both of them froze. No, not her and mad dog, but him.

Deafening silence had lied between the walls and there they stood, eyes pierced into another's souls. Hers burned like fire, but his were dignified like the deep ocean.

Droplets of blood trickled down his forearm and splattered the floor, staining the rolled up sleeves of his crisp white shirt. What a waste.

"Let go. You can't kill him." The man– still with a bloody pen graved in his palm said.

Munyeong couldn't help but scoff, especially after that fucking bastard had just strangled her. "Don't be dramatic. I was just going to give him a few scratches."

Well maybe that's not entirely true.

Rough scrambling erupted underneath them, but when Munyeong turned to look, the mad dog had just ran off, like a lost puppy. Angrily she bit her lip, close to drawing blood until she felt the man draw his own hand back.

She watched as he did. The way he carefully slid her pen into his jacket and brought out a black silk handkerchief. Very rarely, she'd be astonished by something, and now it's him. Though she found it quite difficult to understand him– since when do you interrupt another's stabbing session by screwing up your own hand instead, and also the audacity to tell her she could not stab somebody?

So lost in her thoughts it took her a few seconds to realize her pulse was not pounding anymore.

"Did anyone not tell you that it is basic etiquette to not pry into someone else's business?" Munyeong said– seized the napkin from him, and began to tie a knot. She shot him a glance.

No reply. The man simply stared at her.

"Hmm?" She raised a brow, amused at his slight flinch when she tugged a little harder.

"Don't stress it too much, my manager will take care of our little incident." Munyeong chuckled as he proceeded to ignore her. "Do you know what? There are a lot of people in this world who deserve to die. And some very thoughtful freaks secretly take care of that, so clueless humans can sleep peacefully at night, completely unaware. Which one do you think I am?"

She dropped his hand, anticipating for his answer. Flares of light shined through the blinds, sharpening at his strong features and she noted his small– yet devilish smile.

"A clueless freak."

He finally responded, leaning towards her. His eyes traced her face, gazing down at her lips for a second too long, before their eyes were locked once again. "And of course you will have to pay, but at what price?"

taglist -> i could not tag some of ya'll :( @anotherdush @callmeashipper @ourcoffeeaddictme @nothingcreativeyet @pancat @hotstuff-benswolo @lookingatthesunset @evielovesfood @waywarm @gloster @hello-79 @ailander

#it's okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay #iotnbo #pbio fic #kdrama #kim soo hyun #seo yea ji #ko mun yeong #ko moon young #moon kang tae #hotel blue moon #hotel moon light

217 notes · View notes

retvenkos · 3 years

Text

rolled up messages | n.e.

Blades of Light and Shadow - Nia Ellarious x platonic!MC!Reader, slight angst, fluff requested by @brokenandheadoverheels

tw: mentions of death, seasickness, grief

word count: 1.7 (okay, but in my defense, this is nia, we’re talking about.)

song: message in a bottle - the police | 🔍

Summary: The sea worked in mysterious ways. This time, it brought you someone to grieve with.

When you had been little more than a child, your work knee-deep in the earth and all your life in your small and calloused hands, one of your favorite fantasies to spin was being a pirate. Kade had heard plenty of stories of life on a schooner, and seeing as you had never seen the sea, it was the most beautiful daydream your mind could concoct and escape into. It was a world beyond anything you had ever known. It was a romantic and daring vision - full of sea spray and gulls, the bright blue sky and the enchanting waves.

Life aboard The Wraith was anything but the stories Kade had once told. The hypnotic sway of the ship kept your mind in a constant and muted haze, and the endless skies muddled your sense of direction. Mostly, the days were dull, but on occasion, something more sinister lay within. Restlessness seeped into your veins - slowly, then all at once.

Only a handful of times in your life were you equally as rattled as you found yourself, now, and in each life-changing circumstance, what grounded you was working - the steady drudgery of tilling the earth, the resolute swing of a hammer, the clang of iron against an anvil. But here, there was no task to complete. There was just the open ocean and the ceaseless sky and the insanity that slipped in slowly. It was an itch, and soon, it would grow into a scream.

Most days, you sat around, waiting for things to happen. On occasion, the Captain - the fearless and headstrong Imtura - threw some meager task your way. You almost hated the way you jumped up, eager for something to do. The last thing you wanted to be was a dog begging for someone else's scraps.

The sea was lawless in its corruption; you would be damned if you let it turn you.

If Kade were here, he would have known what you were thinking before you were able to put it into words yourself. He was always perceptive like that - annoying, too, because he knew it. He would have teased you about your restlessness, and before you could register the stir-crazy feeling in your belly, he would have told you stories about how the sea could charm you into doing her bidding. She'd cut you down slowly and carefully until your will was broken and your mind was jelly. Then, she'd use the rhythmic sway of the boat to hypnotize you into becoming her servant.

Was Kade somewhere out there, now, being drawn and quartered, broken down by the shadow and being built up again, against his will? Was he sitting in the cargo hold of a ship or a dusty cell beneath the ground, insanity visiting him in the night? Was Death a new companion of his, gnawing at his skin until he was foaming at the mouth? If you found him, would the shadows cling to him the way ghosts once did? If you discovered him alive, would Kade beg you to end his suffering?

And would it be a mercy to give him what he desired?

The sea was churning your stomach, the acid within burning up your throat. The world - a flat blue that couldn't divide sky from ocean - spun. You needed a quiet place to sit down. You needed a moment alone to grieve.

You stumbled your way below deck, gasping for air. The ship rocked to one side, and you staggered to a wall, throwing one hand out in front of you, catching your breath. You couldn't think about Kade, but you couldn't damn well forget about him either. Not when—

"(Y/n)? Are you alright?"

You snapped your head to attention and found Nia blinking back at you, her delicate features sculpted into light concern - mouth turned, eyebrows knitted. On her lap, she held a leatherbound journal, one hand holding a pencil, paused in its scratching.

You closed your eyes, forcing yourself not to grimace.

"Yeah, I'm alright," you breathed. You could hear the irritation in your voice. You hadn't meant to direct that at her. "What are you writing?" you asked, trying to smooth things over - steering the conversation to a place you could handle. "Keeping a harrowing account of our journey?"

Nia stiffened like a child caught when acting out. If you weren't so seasick, perhaps you would have waved your question away, content to sit in baited silence. But you needed a voice in the din - something to take off the edge - and you knew Nia would comply.

"Not exactly," Nia said slowly, worrying her bottom lip. "I'm writing a letter."

"To who?"

"Oh, umm... you'll probably laugh, but Scholar Vash." Her words hit you like a bullet. In all of the chaos surrounding your quest, you had forgotten about the loss of Scholar Vash. When had your company ever allowed Nia to truly grieve? You had spared her a few moments after the shadow took him, but you hadn't given her such mercy since. You should have never been so thoughtless in your mission. Nia let out a breathy sort of scoff and shook her head. You wondered if she was blinking back tears. If the light were better, would you have recognized it when you first came down?

"I just want him to know that I'm well and that I'm staying true to my faith," Nia played with the ends of her long, red hair. The shimmer of her dress caught in the orange lantern light. She looked like an angel in mourning. "I also thought that I'd write down the questions I still want to ask him. Maybe somehow - through the Light - he'll be able to send some kind of answer."

"Kade and I used to do that with our parents," you commiserated, your voice choked. "Write them letters, I mean. People in Riverbend thought it was a way for orphans to appease the spirits of their parents. Connection. We used to send our notes in glass bottles down the river."

Nia looked at you and gently smiled. Her expression turned wistful, something that made you draw nearer, sitting on a crate next to her. You were closer, now, and you could see the tears welling in her wide, brown eyes.

"We used to do something similar in Whitetower. On days when we were left in the archives for studying, we'd all gather around and write notes to would-be kin. Of course, we didn't have a river, so our letters were tied to the feet of birds. Little rolled up messages saying 'I'm here. Don't forget me.'"

For a moment, Nia's voice drifted away. The ship continued to rock, but in that time, it felt like a mother rocking a cradle, soothing the weeping child within.

"Most of us are adopted by the Temple of Light when we're infants," she sniffed. "I guess it's universal to want to know where family might be."

Nia touched the journal before her, where loopy cursive graced the page and spelled out the name of Scholar Vash. You hadn't known the High Preist long, and while Nia spoke of him often, she was brief with her words. It was as though, on occasion, she forgot all that transpired, and she talked about him when she thought of it, only to have the abrupt realization that he passed, and his final moments were spent doused in shadow. Vash Vallerin had been more than just a teacher - the Scholar had become that of a father, the only one Nia had known. You could see the way the loss gripped her. It reminded you too much of the way you felt about the kindly farmer who took you in, of the little life you had created in the heart of Riverbend that was slowly fracturing - falling apart.

You grabbed Nia's hand - gently, at first, but squeezing it tightly when you got a firm hold. "You are here, Nia, and Scholar Vash may be somewhere out there, but I've known too many ghosts, and I know he won't forget you."

A tear fell down Nia's cheek, and you could feel your own doing the same. How comforting this was - feeling how deeply your grief ran but sharing in its bittersweet bite.

"It's only the living that struggle with forgetting those that we love. The dead have memories that outlive eternity and infinity - at least they have that on us."

Nia laughed - a mix of a chuckle and a sob.

"Scholar Vash will get your letter - no matter how you choose to send it - and I believe he will find a way to answer."

Nia squeezed your hand before letting go and dried her tears. She looked down at her journal to find a tear had wet the page, and she laughed. "I think Scholar Vash would have liked it better that way."

You smiled and wiped your own tears with the palms of your hands. You waited as Nia finished her letter, standing up and digging through the cargo in the hold to give her privacy. You found a bottle of good spirits and took a long drink. You debated on whether or not to offer the priestess some, but you decided it would be better to spare her the headache of refusing and made a mental note to give some to Mal later.

Nia finished writing her letter and tore the page out of her journal carefully. "I think a bottle would be the best way to go," Nia said, rolling up the parchment and turning to you.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Nina affirmed. "It'll wash up on shore somewhere and—"

"And maybe the world will know we were here?"

Nina smiled. "And maybe they'll know we were here."

-- taglist: @fives-cup-of-coffee, @musicallisto, @missameliep, @brokenandheadoverheels // message me if you want to be added!

#choices #playchoices #choices: stories you play #blades of light and shadow #bolas #nia ellarious #nia ellarious x mc #nia ellarious x reader #reader insert #mc!reader #nia ellarious imagine #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #slight angst #fluff #2.9k celebration

23 notes · View notes

lost-in-the-80s · 3 years

Text

You Don’t Want My Love - Chapter 8

Pairing: Duff McKagan x reader

Words: 3,969k

Summary: Guns n Roses hires a new tour assistant, but nobody thought that Duff would fall for her.

In this chapter: Is Paris really the city of love? Y/N and Duff are about to find out.

A/N: This chapter is pure fluff! There is a line in French, but the translation is below in italics. The high school story is true btw, I was the one who stayed sleeping lol

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car @ladieswttda @teasid @metalheartofgold @slashscowboyboots @ginny-rose-sixx @rumoured-whispers @vinylvintage @metalupyourash add yourself to my tag list :)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A week passed after that morning, nothing very exciting happened in Y/N's life. Guns n Roses did two successful shows in Scotland and soon after they got on the bus towards France.

They got there very early in the morning, after a long rainy night. Drops still dripped from the leaves of the trees and the asphalt had taken on a darker shade of gray, while the sun fought for space between the clouds that covered the sky.

Open-mouthed, Y/N admired the city through the bus window, her dream had always been to meet Paris, unaware of Duff's gaze fixed on her expressions, making a smile appear on the blonde's lips.

"I can't believe we're in Paris!" She exclaimed, her eyes shining with joy.

"Me neither," Slash said smiling, the realization that his band was touring Europe was still going on, and he couldn't be more proud.

"I always dreamed of coming here, but I never thought it would come true." She smiled, turning to the boys, her back facing the window.

“Well, we have the day off. You can enjoy doing what you've always wanted to do here! ” Izzy said, he was sitting next to her.

“I'm going shopping! Then I want to have coffee in one of those bistros that we see in the movies.”

"It looks like you already have a plan then." Izzy smiled slightly at her.

"Is there room for one more in this plan?" Duff asked. He was sitting across from her, smoking a cigarette.

"Sure! We can go out right after breakfast if you agree. ”

"It's fine with me!"

---

After a tasty breakfast, the two of them met in the hotel lobby. Duff in a leather jacket and black jeans while she wore a red sweater with jeans and black high boots.

Walking side by side, they followed the receptionist's recommendations, walking just a few streets before reaching downtown.

Entering a busier street, several people came and went along the sidewalk, making it difficult for them to move.

In a quick, almost unconscious movement, Duff took her hand, guiding the way through people until they reached a quieter street.

As soon as his skin touched hers, she lost herself, her legs still moved in rhythm with his, but her mind moved as fast as a hummingbird's wings.

His fingertips were dry and callused against the thin, smooth skin of her hand. Her fingers were so small compared to his that they almost disappeared during the gesture.

However, Duff didn't realize what he had done until they arrived at a peaceful avenue full of shops. He felt her hand tightly holding his and a small smile appeared on his lips. For a few seconds, he feared she would let go of his hand, after all his help was no longer needed, but she didn't.

In fact, she only let go of his hand when they entered the first store, needing both hands to feel the fabric of a sweater and go through the hangers.

They visited many stores and although Duff thought he would be bored to go shopping, he ended up having fun. Not because he liked to stand beside her while she went from hanger to hanger, or because he liked to carry the bags for her, but because he was with her.

Every time she left the dressing room asking for his opinion, he couldn't contain the small smile that formed on his lips.

Leaving what appeared to be the thousandth store, she suddenly stopped in front of a window. Its glasses had frosted glass details and clothes in shades of black and brown were exposed.

"What's it?" He asked worriedly.

"It's Chanel." She said with a sigh.

She looked at him and saw his brows furrowed. "It's my favorite griff."

"Let's go in then!" He said, pulling her hand into the store.

The floor was light marble and the walls were white, there were adorned pilasters in the corners and the ceiling was very high, decorated with a large crystal chandelier.

Passing slowly on the hangers, Y/N touched each fabric subtly, feeling the material against her skin and smiling without believing that she was in Paris, personally looking at the fine clothes that inspired her so much to study fashion.

"Bonjour je peux vous aider?" A middle-aged saleswoman wearing a bun approached with a friendly smile.

"Good morning, can I help you?"

"What?" Duff asked.

"Oh sorry, I didn't realize you were tourists." She smiled gently. "Do you need any help?"

"I'm just looking around, I studied fashion in college, I always wanted to see your store in person." Y/N smiled.

“You have a degree in fashion! That's great!" The saleswoman raised her eyebrows in admiration.

"Yes. Chanel has always been my favorite griff, it influenced me a lot to choose the fashion college. ”

“In this case, come with me to the second floor. We have beautiful dresses from the latest collection there, you will love them.”

The saleswoman guided them up an arched staircase with marble steps and black handrails to the second floor where the dressing rooms were and a session full of dresses and party clothes.

“This one is one of Karl's favorites, do you notice the ruby details on the collar? They're from Australia.”

"It's beautiful!" Y/N responded, lightly touching the white dress that the saleswoman was showing her.

Passing the countless hangers, Y/N lifted her hand to her mouth when she saw a red dress, full of small sparkling stones. The dress was the most beautiful she had ever seen.

“Ah, this is Louise. It is inspired by Italy. ” The saleswoman approached explaining. "These little stones are quartz, they fit a lot, don't they?"

“Yes, they really do. It's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen in my life.”

"Try it," Duff said, drawing the attention of the two women.

“Yes, you should try it, dear! I'll see if we have one in your size, I'll be back in an instant. ” She smiled leaving the two of them in the room.

Putting the hanger back in place, Y/N turned to Duff. He smiled in her direction and she almost forgot what she was going to say.

"Duff, you know I can't afford a dress like that."

Before he could answer the saleswoman returned.

"I think this one will look perfect on you." She went into one of the changing rooms, hanging up her dress and turning on the lights for her.

Reluctantly, Y/N entered the dressing room, changing her clothes for the dress. The saleswoman offered to help her with the zipper, entering the dressing room and closing it quickly.

"Wow, it looks beautiful on you, dear!" She exclaimed.

She wasn't lying, the dress was really beautiful on her, fitting so perfectly that someone could think it was made especially for her.

"You need to show it to your boyfriend!"

"Oh no, he isn't-" Before she could finish the woman opened the door, stepping out of the way so Duff could see her.

"Wow." He sighed. "You look beautiful!"

She felt her cheeks flush as she murmured a "thank you".

“You should take it, dear! It looks great on you. ”

"Oh no, I can’t affo-"

"Here." Duff took the wallet out of his jacket pocket, offering the saleswoman a card. "Use this card please."

Smiling, she took the card and went down the stairs.

"Duff, you don't have to pay for the dress for me!" She crossed her arms, she didn't like to depend on others.

"I don't need to, but I want to."

"But Duff."

"Y/N, the dress looks beautiful on you, it would be a mistake not to take it."

She stopped for a moment looking him in the eye. "Fine." She said subtly before entering the fitting room to remove the piece with the help of the saleswoman who had already returned.

---

"What do you want to do now?" Duff asked when they left the store.

“How about we go get something to eat? I'm starving."

"Finally you talked about food, I was almost eating one of my fingers," Duff said laughing, looking at his fingers with a weird expression.

Arriving at a bistro, they chose a table on the sidewalk of the establishment, so that they could admire a little more of the city while eating.

"It's beautiful here, isn't it?" Y/N said when she finished eating.

"Yes, very beautiful," Duff said, filling his mouth with what was left of his croissant, making her laugh slightly.

"What do you want to do afterward?" She asked.

"I don't know, we could go to that park." Duff pointed to a park directly in front of the bistro.

"Good idea!" She smiled

"I'm going to pay, then we go, okay?"

“No, no, no! I’m paying." She stated, looking for her wallet in the bag.

"Why do I get the impression that you are going to buy me coffees until you match the value of the dress?"

"Because that’s exactly what I am going to do." Getting up, she walked quickly into the bistro.

---

The park was extensive, its trails were made with small white cemented stones and the trees around it seemed to be very old, although they had lost all their leaves during the winter.

They walked for almost an hour, admiring small art exhibitions and talking about long stories from the past.

The temperature started to drop and the sun started to set over the horizon, bringing a purple-gray color to the city.

Y/N had her arms crossed in front of her, trying to keep her warm, while Duff rubbed one hand against the other in hopes of warming his cold fingers.

“My class was super excited, their dream was to go to that exhibition, while my best friend and I were just going to miss two days of school” She was telling him the story about her trip in her senior year of high school.

"We spent the whole morning in a park and while everyone went to take pictures, she and I stole two scooters for hire and we kept walking around the same block of the park all morning."

"What? You stole a scooter!? ” Duff said laughing. "I never thought you were like this, Y/N!"

"What could I do? We were bored! .... And in the afternoon it got even worse! We spent an hour and a half visiting the exhibition, after that we got tired and realized that we had 5 more hours free, but nothing was interesting to do. We sat in a less busy area and I read while she slept.” She laughed at the memory.

"So you didn't enjoy the trip at all?" He asked laughing.

"Nope."

"My God." He laughed. "And where is this friend of yours?"

“She lives in Norway now. We speak in letters every month, but we haven't seen each other in years. ”

"It’s a shame." He stopped in front of a fountain. "Maybe it’d be possible to visit her after the tour."

"Maybe." She smiled slightly.

"Three days is not enough time here, there is so much I wanted to see." She sighed.

He didn't answer, and she turned to face him, he was looking at her, his eyes full of a glow that she had seen before, but she couldn't identify.

"What's it?" She said softly, putting a lock behind her ear.

He took a step closer to her, their bodies mere inches apart.

"I want to kiss you..." He said in a low tone, licking his lips, as he leaned slightly towards her.

"But I'm only going to do it if you want to." His hand touched her face, his cold fingers making a shiver grow on Y/N.

His lips were so close to hers, she could feel his hot breath against her skin.

She froze, her heart raced and she couldn't formulate words so she just nodded slowly.

Closing the distance between them, Duff pressed his lips gently against hers, moving away after a few seconds.

She opened her eyes and saw his gaze fixed on hers. He still kept his hand on her face, waiting for some kind of reaction.

Gathering all the courage she had, she stood on her tiptoes and pulled him closer by his jacket, smashing her lips against his and enveloping him in a hot, passionate kiss.

One of Duff's hands found her waist, bringing her even closer.

His tongue asked for permission to invade her mouth and after getting it, their tongues danced in synchronized ballet, as if they had already rehearsed hundreds of times.

"You don't know how long I waited to do this." He whispered when they pulled apart.

---

The way back to the hotel was quieter, the night had reached the city and the cold wind was blowing against them through the streets of Paris.

Duff had his arm around her shoulders the entire way, while she hugged his waist.

Arriving at the hotel, they walked slowly through the corridors, so slowly that Y/N could have counted all the chandeliers on the walls.

They had all the time in the world and weren't ready to say goodbye yet, but the number 25 appeared, it was her room.

"We’re here." She said calmly, looking into the blonde's eyes as she came out of his embrace.

"See you tomorrow?" He took her hand, intertwining their fingers.

"You know you will, Duff." She leaned against the door, lifting her chin to keep her gaze fixed on his.

A light laugh left his lips as he remembered that fateful night in Scotland.

"What?"

"I had a dèjá vu" He smiled, putting a lock of her hair behind her ear.

"What do you mean?

"That night in Scotland."

She frowned.

"Don't you remember?"

She shook her head slowly. "No."

He laughed again. "You were standing just like this." He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Asking me to kiss you." A smug smile appeared on his lips.

"Oh my god!" She closed her eyes, wishing it had just been his imagination.

"It would have been an interesting proposition if you weren't so drunk."

"I'm not drunk today, am I?" She bit her lower lip, smiling.

A smirk appeared on Duff's lips as he leaned down to kiss her again.

"Good night, Y/N," Duff said as he backed away.

"Good night, Duff."

He leaned down kissing her forehead for a few seconds before slowly letting go of her fingers and heading towards his room.

---

The next morning Y/N woke up with the biggest smile, she still didn't know what was going on between Duff and her, but she was happy.

Entering the hotel's restaurant, fear took a hold of her heart. She didn't know if Duff had told the rest about them, and the last thing she wanted was for them to be making jokes, like that night when they slept together.

The first thing she saw was Duff, he looked up from his plate, looking her straight in the eyes, almost as if he had felt her presence before he even saw her.

He gave her a small smile as he followed her every move.

Taking a cup of coffee and a slice of pie, she sat between Steven and Slash at the table.

"Woke up late today, Y/N," Axl said. "Did you come back too late yesterday?"

"Not really, I arrived around seven."

"We passed at your room around six, we were going to a restaurant, but you weren't there," Steven said.

"Ah, it’s okay, I ordered room service." She smiled slightly.

"What made you wake up so late then? You are usually the first to arrive." Axl insisted on the topic.

"It took me a while to get to sleep last night."

"Insomnia?"

She looked at Duff, seeing him smile slightly. "Something like that."

---

The afternoon soon arrived and Y/N left her room to go to the soundcheck with the boys.

Looking across the hall she saw Duff, propped up against his door.

"You’re beautiful today." He whispered as he approached her, leaning over to steal a small kiss.

"Thanks." The compliment had made butterflies rise in her stomach.

A door opening made Duff take two steps back.

"Were you waiting for me?" Steven asked, smiling as everyone walked towards the elevator.

"Uh-huh." She said quickly.

Arriving at the lobby, Y/N was stopped by Izzy.

"Y/N, I need you to do something for me."

"Sure, what’s it?"

"Erin will be arriving at the airport in about an hour, I need you to pick her up and go with her somewhere."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't take her to the soundcheck."

"Why?" She frowned.

"Axl does not concentrate when she is there, we have to do everything twice ... Go with her to a beauty salon or whatever."

"Fine..." She answered slowly.

"Here, take the band’s card." He handed over the card before heading towards the bus.

"Ah!" He turned around. "Here... for the taxi!" He handed her 50 euros, finally leaving the hotel.

In the distance, she could see Duff looking at her without understanding what had happened.

She shrugged, offering a small wave before Izzy pushed him into the bus and closed the door.

---

The day was starting to get boring. Erin's flight was delayed by almost an hour and all she could think was that instead of being with Duff, she would have to spend the rest of the afternoon with her.

Not that she could complain much, Erin was a nice girl, kind of an airhead, but a great company to have fun with.

But she would rather be watching Duff playing his bass while wearing his Cowboy hat.

Her flight finally arrived, and Y/N moved to the line of people waiting for passengers, holding a papal with Erin written with pink lipstick.

A thin scream filled the airport when Erin identified Y/N, making people around look at them.

She took a few leaps until she reached Y/N, wrapping her in a hug.

"Hi, Erin!" She said hugging her back.

"I missed you!" She smiled.

"I missed you, too, Erin!"

"I was upset that you never called me when you were on vacation." She pouted, making Y/N give a nasal laugh.

"Sorry, I was very busy."

"I forgive you, but only if you promise to call me next time!"

"I promise, Erin."

"Let’s go then? I'm missing my little redhead." She started walking.

Y/N took a deep breath not to laugh at the nickname. "The plans have changed, we only go to the arena when the gig’s about to start."

"What do you mean?" She stopped, turning to the other woman.

"Izzy told us to have a girls' day. I thought we could use a massage."

"Izzy said that?" She frowned.

Y/N nodded in agreement.

"That's weird."

"Weird or not, I have the band's card." She held up the card, showing it to the girl.

"In that case, let's go! A full massage can take more than an hour!" She started walking quickly, making Y/N quicken her pace.

---

After nearly an hour and a half at a massage parlor, Y/N and Erin went to a coffee shop, ordering cake and hot chocolate.

The place was small and cozy, the walls were painted in shades of cream and the chairs had flowery green cushions.

Taking a table by the window, they started talking.

"Has Axl given you a lot of trouble?" Erin asked.

"No, he's been calmer these days. The biggest problems are Izzy and Steven."

Erin looked her in the eye, encouraging her to continue.

"Izzy is a pain in the ass when he's high, and Steven doesn't even know where he is when he uses it, I have to act like his mother."

"That sucks! Good thing Ax doesn't have any problems like that. But I think it's just because they're on tour, as soon as it's over they'll get better."

"I hope so," Y/N said smiling. "And how are things between you and Axl?"

Erin stopped with the cup halfway, not knowing whether to speak or not.

"Things with him are ... complicated…. He can be romantic and kind when he wants to, but most days he ends up taking his anger out on me."

"What do you mean?"

"We fight a lot, but I love him, and I know he loves me, so eventually we will get better." She gave a small smile before bringing a piece of the cake to her mouth.

Y/N nodded as she sipped her hot chocolate, deciding not to dwell on it.

"And how’s Duff going?" Erin smirked.

Y/N's eyes widened. "What about Duff?"

"The last time I was here he was hopelessly in love with you. Axl said he spent all day talking about how beautiful you are."

A smile appeared on Y/N's lips.

"Don't tell me he hasn't made a move yet?"

"He actually did." Her smile got bigger.

Erin propped both elbows on the table, looking intently at the girl in front of her, curious to know more.

"He kissed me yesterday."

Erin shrieked, smiling at the news.

"The boys must have gone crazy!"

"They don't know yet."

"Why not?"

"Because even I don't know what we are yet. Besides, I work for them, I don't want to say anything before I'm sure it's serious"

"Yeah, it makes sense. Do you want me to be quiet about it then?"

"Please."

"Relax, my lips are glued together!" She said laughing.

---

Arriving at the arena, Y/N walked calmly through the countless corridors next to Erin, while listening to her chatter about the Christmas party at her father's house.

She stopped in mid-sentence when she saw red hair entering a room.

"Axl!" She screamed, running towards the door when he stuck his head out.

She threw herself into his arms as he hugged her tightly, mumbling how much he missed her.

Y/N smiled at the scene when she was pulled by the arm into a room.

The light was off and the only illumination present was the reflection of one of the stage spotlights that reflected through the window.

Adjusting her eyes to the brightness, she could see the figure of Duff in front of her, covering her with his height.

"I missed you." He said before pressing his lips against hers.

His hands found her waist, pulling her closer as her hands went up to his hair, tangled in its strands.

Their tongues danced together as he guided them until she leaned against cold material.

Using one hand to feel the surface, she realized it was a table. They should be in a dressing room.

Y/N sat on the table, increasing her height in a few inches, making Duff's job easier.

She tangled her legs around his waist, bringing him closer, while he lowered his hands to her ass, squeezing her flesh tightly, making a small moan leave her lips.

Starting to apply kisses to her neck, Duff was interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

"Duff!" It was Slash.

"What!?" He pulled away from her neck, shouting towards the door.

"We have to go on stage, we’re already late!"

"Shit," Duff murmured. "I'm on my way!" He shouted for the door.

"I think I'm going to have to leave you alone now." He smiled, stealing another kiss from her. "Come and see the gig."

"I'll be there in a minute, I promise." She smiled at him, kissing his lips one last time before he walked out the door.

Alone in the dark, Y/N sighed, her fingers went to her lips and a smile appeared on them.

"Well, I think I can get used to it." She murmured.

#harley writes #you don't want my love #duff mckagan #duff mckagan fanfic #duff mckagan fic #duff mckagan imagine #duff mckagan x reader #guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses fic #guns n roses x reader #gnr #gnr imagine #classic rock #classic rock imagine

75 notes · View notes

onyourmemory-ha · 3 years

Text

Chapter One

little changes can pave lanes

Auggie broadens their horizons and meets their best friend’s girl.

The seats are crammed together, packing everyone in like sardines. The sweat and general body odor seem to go along with the disgustingly fishy trend. All of that Auggie could forgive but the hollering child was where they drew the line. The demon spawn pounded its fist against the back of some poor unfortunate soul’s seat and yelled about wanting to go play.

The sole reason they don’t join in and match the child’s volume is because of Trish, the woman keeping a firm hold on their hand as if reading their thoughts. And considering the type of woman she was, they really wouldn’t put it past her if that really were the case. As it is, it helps ground them and not lose it on a literal child.

“I thought your dick of an ex was rich now,” They grumble lowly, debating if they should give in to the desire of banging their head against the headrest.

“He is,” Trish tries to hide her amusement, hiding her grin behind her drink as she pushes further. “Why would you think otherwise?”

Snorting, Auggie gestures to the hell hole they’ve been forced into. “The bastard skimped out on getting the good seats. But it’s good to know Dick is just the same.”

“We’re just lucky to have found tickets at such short notice,” She gently squeezes their hand with a wordless scolding and it’s enough to have Auggie’s frown deepening.

Flushing, they look to the cloudy sky. It’s a cruel reminder, being indebted to someone like Ken of all people. Instead, they choose to focus on the reasoning behind it, easily shifting the blame onto the person who’s truly at fault. “I’m gonna beat your son’s ass when we see him, fair warning.”

And Trish, the traitor, just laughs to herself. “I love you, honey. But I don’t think you’d like who the winner was in something like that.”

“Oh, I know,” Auggie just shrugs. “But I’d get a few good hits in there and that’s all I need to ruin his day.”

This just has Trish laughing even more though she clearly tries to fight it. When Auggie snorts as a result, she lightly slaps their knee, and they both tune back into the movie playing overhead. And when Trish begins to tear up at the lovers reuniting on-screen, Auggie just squeezes her hand tighter and doesn’t mention it.

ㅤ⠀ |♛|

It’s barely even noticeable, hidden beneath postering and a surprisingly fragile smile. If it hadn’t been for the years of knowing him or the sudden edge in Trish’s eyes, Auggie might have not even picked up on it. But they did and therein lies the issue.

The thing about Hardin was that he was similar to a horse. Big and intimidating but one good blow will end him for a long time. And so easily spooked on top of it. He wasn’t the type to confront, not when he was trying so hard to hide it like he was. They already knew how that would play out and it wouldn’t be pretty.

So, they did the only thing they really could do. They waited. Hardin wasn’t exactly someone subtle nor was he someone who bottled everything well. He was the explosive sort and that meant all Auggie needed to do was wait. Preferably without pushing him to that breaking point themselves but if they needed to, they would.

“Look at you!” Trish beams, holding his face gently. “How’ve you been, love?”

He places his hands over hers, his smile growing stronger. “Better now that you’re here. Was the flight okay?”

“Oh, it was fi—,” Trish goes to assure but they cut her off there, a screaming child flashing beneath their eyelids.

“It was absolute shit,” They announce with a proud grin. “I expect compensation, just so you know.”

Trish just shakes her head, pressing a kiss against her son’s forehead before pulling away. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was but you can pretend otherwise,” Auggie corrects, rocking on their heels.

He just snickers, shaking his head as he grabs Trish’s bags. “It wasn’t too bad if you’re still in high spirits.”

He walks forward without a warning, leaving the two of them to catch up. And Auggie does just that, their own bag thumping against their thigh with each step. “Of course I’m in high spirits now! I get to see my favorite white boy named Allen!”

He stops, just for a moment, and levels them a fierce glare from over his shoulder. “I’m sure they could always arrange a flight back home for you by tonight.”

“Or I could just go on with you two,” They beam, eyes wide and ready to play the innocent card.

Trish huffs at them both, her smile betraying the notion as she gestures them to hurry up. “If you two don’t play nice, I’ll ground you both!”

That has Hardin laughing, the shadows being chased away for the moment and it’s a small victory that Auggie soaks in. They walk with a purpose after that, Auggie shuffling after the mother and son duo with a smile that feels more real than any other one has in months.

ㅤ⠀ |♛|

The apartment isn’t the cleanest of places but Auggie can still tell how nice it is under it all. They wonder whether or not it was another attempt on Hardin’s sperm donor to win him over and how successful it actually was considering he accepted it. The only thing out of place, besides the strewn-about clothes, is the light that streams in through the large, modern windows. It feels like the darkness should be trapped inside by thick curtains, not released to the light. They can’t help but think that maybe that was exactly the case before Hardin left to pick them up.

“Well, here we are,” He announces with little enthusiasm. “Go ahead and get comfortable.”

“Ooh, might as well draw me a bath in that case,” Auggie teases lightly before seriously considering it themselves. The warm water really would be nice right about now. “We can make it like old times and you can join me.”

“No thanks,” He snorts, dropping the suitcases in front of what they assume is the guest room. “One almost drowning was enough for me.”

“So boring,” They tsk, flopping on the couch as Trish rolls her eyes at the pair of them.

That’s when the newcomer makes themselves known, slinking out of the bedroom with a heated glare and her hands on her hips. The first thing Auggie notices is how pretty she is. It’s the type of prettiness that can be weaponized, the kind of features that were found on the faces of the popular kids back in high school. Her blonde hair pulls upon that cliche even more, cascading over her shoulders in a gentleness thats betrayed by the poison pooling behind her teeth. And it’s with a sinking feeling that Auggie realizes who this is at the same time that Trish does.

“You must be Tessa!” She exclaims after a pause, striding across the room and pulling the other girl into a hug. “Oh, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you ever since Hardin mentioned you!”

And that is very true. When they’d discovered Tessa couldn’t make it, leading to Hardin canceling as well, the woman had almost been heartbroken. That alone would have been enough for Auggie to be on guard around her. But the already set glare and the way Hardin seemed to shrink in on himself yet attuned everything to her, that did it. So Auggie stayed where they were seated, not bothering to stand up to greet the girl that their entire body seemed to rebel against.

“Oh, I thought…” She trails off, flushing with a sheepish smile. Her eyes though, they remain sharp. “It’s so good to meet you! I was just going, though.”

“No, you can’t just go now! Please stay! At least for dinner!” Trish pleads, the desperation matched in her son’s eyes.

“I mean, I told my mom I’d be there by dark…” She trails off, guiltily looking towards the door.

“Surely it wouldn’t hurt another night. It’ll be safer to drive in the morning anyways,” Trish reasons and they don’t miss the way Hardin’s eyes begin to brighten at the prospect of her staying.

It seems to be enough to convince the girl though and she gives a weary smile as her decision is made up. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

And for some reason, Auggie highly doubts it, but they keep their mouth closed for now. Although, they do throw their head against the back of the couch and let out a big sigh. “Is that bath still an option?”

ㅤ⠀ |♛|

They end up ordering in food, the empty cabinets and fridge having given Hardin pause in his plans. And pause in conversations as well, it seems. Trish makes an effort, asking simple little questions to get to know the girl her son has become infatuated with, for some reason, while Hardin sits there staring at his plate like it spit in his face. Tessa, for her part, answers as politely as she can with a well timed smile.

The fakeness is stiffening and they all know it. Or at least, Auggie hopes they aren’t the only one picking it up. By Hardin’s awkward gazes between the blondes, they think they aren’t. So when Auggie is finally brought up, they’re pulled out of their overanalyzing thoughts about Hardin, the apartment, and the awkwardness. “What?”

“I was just saying how you and Hardin met,” Trish beams like the proud mother she is. “They’ve been with us through so much.”

“I had no idea,” Tessa enunciated slowly with an indescribable look leveled at their way. “Hardin’s never mentioned anyone other than his mother.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Auggie shrugs, trying to shake the edge in their voice before it's noticed. “Hardin always has been a private person. Plus he’s always been a momma’s boy.”

Tessa nods, glancing to her boyfriend before focusing back on the odd creature that Auggie must look like in their perfect apartment. “So what is it you do back in London?”

“Wiltshire,” They correct.

“What?” She frowns, sitting back in her seat with a deepening frown.

For some reason, Auggie finds relief in that. “It's outside of London. That’s where we’re from. But I mainly just help look after Mum and work down at the convenient store. Hoping to broaden my horizons soon and all that.”

“Oh,” Tessa trails off, looking towards Trish now like she’d somehow done something. “So you and Trish are close too?”

“Of course,” Trish answers with no hesitation, missing the way the girl’s smile tightens. “I practically raised this one and when Hardin moved away for uni, this sweet thing stepped up and moved in with me.”

“I’m basically the favorite child,” They grin ear to ear, nudging Hardin with their foot. “Isn’t that right?”

He, finally, stops staring after Tessa like a lost puppy and scoffs. “She only tells you to keep the peace in the house.”

That’s what Auggie considers a good opening, especially for what they’ve been meaning to discuss, and there’s nothing like biting the bullet head on. “About that.”

He turns his entire focus to them and almost looks scared. “What? What’s happening?”

Trish picks up on it immediately and sets down her drink softly. “Before you say anything, know that this was something I pushed.”

“Just spit it out already,” He snaps, hackles seeming to rise.

Auggie takes a deep breath. “Remember them broadening horizons? Well, I think it's time I actually do that and I’ve been talking with the Dick…”

“Ken? Why the fuck have you been talking with my Dad?” Hardin exclaims, eyes narrowing between them and his mother.

“I wanna go back to school and the only way I could afford that is if I had some help or knew someone. I ended up having both.” Auggie further explains gently.

It finally clicks in his head and his guards fall at once, his eyes widening. “You’re going to attend Washington?”

“If I can get a place to stay at,” Auggie slowly explains, clearing their throat. “I might need a place to stay while I get everything in order, though.”

“And it would be very generous and kind if you were to help Auggie out with this,” Trish adds on, eyes narrowed as if daring him to deny them this help.

Hardin just rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair now that he knew what the conversation was about. “Don’t be stupid. Auggie can have the spare bedroom once you leave,” Then he pauses, looking towards Tessa. “If that’s alright with you.”

If it weren’t for her white knuckles around her fork, her easy expression would have fooled Auggie. She even smiles sweetly and nods. “It’s your place too. Of course they can stay for a little bit.”

“Then that’s perfect,” Auggie claps. “I packed all that I could and once Trish gets back, she can ship me my things!”

Tessa nods, her knuckles whitening and her smile stretching almost uncomfortably. “Mhmm, perfect.”

#after movie #tessa young #hardin scott #hardin x reader #chapter 1 #on your memory #fanfic #after fanfiction #hardin scott fanfic #tessa young is the worst #august sanderson #fanfiction #new chapter #fan writing #after we collided [2020]#Hardin Scott x oc #hardin scott x reader

56 notes · View notes