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lovewithasideoffries · 2 years

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Okay okay- but can you even imagine and Eddie x reader during the guitar scene, she’s basically drooling over him? But she’s also playing the guitar!

Like omg sorry it would be such a badass scene of them playing together while Dustin is counting down until they need to run!

hi omg sorry it took me so long to write this! but yes i tried my best to put your thoughts into words, here ya go!!

Most Metal

summary: Eddie and Y/n kill it on the guitar in the Upside Down.

warnings: idk swearing? spoilers for v2

word count: 1211

You showed up at the clearing that your friends had parked the trailer they stole their trailer in and came out, slamming the door of your car.

“Hey, how was buying illegal shit from The War Zone?” you called out, trekking toward where Eddie and Dustin were standing near a couple small crates and showing off their fancy new weapons.

“Uneventful, besides the fact that Jason and his gang of assholes were also looking to buy ‘illegal shit’, most likely to hunt down your boyfriend. Wait, remind me again why you weren’t there y/n?” Robin replied.

Had it been anyone else you would’ve felt a bit offended, but you brushed it off. You knew your friend didn’t mean any harm, you had gotten used to her bluntness and lack of social cues.

“Well, seeing as I’m the only one here who has access to their house and can run around Hawkins in a car without causing suspicion - also Jason isn’t actively hunting me down because he doesn’t know who the fuck I am - I figured it’d be best to get home and change and grab supplies and shit.”

“Y/n, when we said change we meant into something you can fight in. Yet here you show up in a pleated black skirt and 3 inch heels,” Dustin chided you playfully.

“Trust me, kid. I can fight in these shoes.”

He looked to Eddie, eyebrows raised. “She can, it’s crazy. That girl could run a marathon in those,” your boyfriend whispered back loudly.

“And for the record, these are only heeled boots. You should see me fight in real heels. Besides I’m going to be playing guitar in the fucking Upside Down. I’m not going to be wearing yellow Converse while I do that.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with yellow?”

“Nothing, but Eddie’s old guitar is red. Is it really so bad if I want to match my shoes with the guitar? I mean if I’m gonna die I wanna die looking hot.”

“Hey.” Eddie stood up, wrapping his arms protectively around your waist. “None of us are going to die during this, okay?”

“Eds,” you turned around to face him, holding his face in your hands. “I know we’re all getting out of this alive, it was just a joke.” You smiled up at him in the most reassuring way you could, surprised at his sudden seriousness.

“I- I know, it’s just… with everything that’s happened this past week, it’s too much to be making jokes about death.”

“Then, if I’m going to be performing a concert for bats that wanna eat me alive, I wanna be doing that looking hot. Better?”

“Much, and don’t worry darlin’. You look hot no matter what shoes you wear.” The two of you shared a kiss, ignoring Dustin’s fake and loud gagging.

Dustin, Eddie, and you had just finished boarding up the Upside Down version of Eddie’s trailer. The three of you stared at your work in awe for a few moments.

“Not bad,” you commented.

“Not bad at all,” Eddie and Dustin replied in unison, putting a smile on your face. The dynamic between the two warmed your heart. You could tell they both needed each other.

“Now for the fun part.” Eddie chuckled, eyes locked with yours, your determined smile mirroring his.

All of you burst into his room, Eddie stopped in his tracks. He slowly walked toward the guitar hanging on his wall. “It’s like she was destined for an alternate dimension…”

You and Dustin shared a knowing look.

“I swear he gets turned on more by instruments than me when I dress like a slut,” you joked, receiving an amused and slightly disgusted look from him.

“I heard that,” Eddie deadpanned, turning around to face you with his hands on his hips.

“It’s true, though. Now, let’s find the guitar I’ll be playing babe. Is it in Wayne’s room?”

“Uhhh… yeah I think my old guitar should be in his room. Y’know we’re pretty lucky that this place has time travelled to right before I broke my uncle’s guitar but right after I got this new one.”

“FUCK THIS LOOKS SO SICK!” you call out from Wayne’s room, walking back to Eddie and Dustin with a sleek electric guitar, similar to the one Eddie holds in his hands but in a dark shade of red with shiny black highlights.

“Hell, sweets, you made fun of me about getting excited over my guitar? Look at you,” your boyfriend quipped, but truly he was fawning over you fawning over his old guitar. One of the things he loves about you is that the two of you share so many mutual interests.

The three of you had just settled on top of Max’s house and set up when you got the message from Robin to move on to Phase 3.

“Copy that, initiating Phase 3.” Dustin plugged in the cords connecting your guitars to the amp. “Let’s hope they hear this.”

“Let’s,” you responded, both you and Eddie taking your picks off of your matching necklaces and preparing to start playing.

You had been slightly nervous when Eddie told you his song choice considering that although you both knew Master of Puppets by heart, you’d never once played it together. But when you strummed out a few heavy metal chords at the same time, you figured it’d work itself out.

As the two of you played, the loud squawks and screeches of demobats could be heard. You ignored it, focusing on playing in time with your boyfriend.

Honestly, of course you loved the song and absolutely jumped at the chance of playing a song you love in the Upside Down, you weren’t entirely sure why you had decided that playing guitar was the best way to gain the bats’ attention.

Your best guess was that, despite how sure Eddie had seemed of it earlier, there was a good chance that not all of you were going to leave this damned place alive. And you’re sure that your boyfriend would’ve wanted to play this song at least once before you guys die.

As you heard the song near what you assumed was Eddie’s favourite part, you paused, allowing him to play out the chorus as a solo.

You stood, almost drooling over how hot he looked right then and there, jamming out to a song you both loved and doing something he was passionate about.

Also the face he made while playing always awoke the butterflies in your stomach. God he was hot.

“Y/n, you gonna join me or is the rest of this song gonna be a solo, hmmm?” Eddie’s voice snapped you out of your, rather inappropriate, seeing as you were currently trying to save the world, train of thought.

“Sorry!” You continued playing.

“Guys!” Dustin screamed over both the music and the demobats’ cries, “We gotta lock down in T-minus 30 seconds!”

The two of you shared a look and then turned to Dustin and gave him a nod. The young boy was clearly counting down in his head and when he gave you the warning of 20 seconds, you immediately dished out a riff which led to the two of you shredding the electric guitar until time ran out.

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #stranger things finale #stranger things 4 #stranger things #fanfiction #stranger things x reader #asks answered <3

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vinnyistired · 9 months

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I don't think I've ever been embarrassed

In my 32 years of life I don't think I've ever experienced the feelings of embarrassment that other people have. I mean sure, I've been in embarrassing situations where I realize in retrospect people would normally feel embarrassed, but instead I'm more worried about how now there are going to be additional and potentially tedious hurdles to leap over to get through social situations. Basically my brain goes "Fuck, this is gonna add like 5 more steps to interacting with people" and I get frustrated. Here's some examples of my thought process through different scenarios.

-Work/class setting where I fall or shid piss and fard myself

I've never had a bodily malfunction in class or work, but I've fallen a few times at both. I'd say ridicule for falling is more prevalent in school than work, but even still this didn't bother me at all cause while this does draw sudden attention, unless something spectacular happens it won't add extra layers to social interactions. People laugh or silently judge, then they're over it. EZPZ

-Class or work setting where my ineptitude was on full display for everyone and I got called out for it

So depending on how badly I've fucked up it can go multiple ways. One being people laugh, not care, or silently judge as with above and move on. The other outcomes vary wildly, but all add one or multiple layers to social interactions. If I'm being a total dingus, an absolute fool, dumb dumb idiot asshole mode x-treme, there's a good chance it will be memorable and might even become an in-joke amongst class/work mates. Instead of feeling shame in the moment, my immediate reaction is to be annoyed and frustrated that I potentially have to hear the same joke over and over even if it becomes stale, and if every social interaction becomes slightly longer. If any in jokes or nicknames last long enough, instead of negativity directed inward, I project it as impatience and judgement at the other person for lack of creativity. Like you still think that same joke is funny? No new material? It really gives "I pay for a netflix subscription but literally only watch The Office on repeat" and it spirals into such a weird pretentiousness and pettiness on my part that I don't want to unpack here atm so I'ma move on. I will say though, I didn't make up a dude in my head to be mad at, it's happened to me a few times with different people at different stages of life.

-Friends or family bringing up the past in an attempt to embarrass me

When I was younger, like most kids and dumbass young adults, I did some pretty regrettable things (nothing illegal or heinous I promise) and I've had friends that liked to bring it up in an effort to make me look bad. No, not in a "Hey remember when your gamertag was "XxDarKxSephirotHxX haha" way, but in a "I'm going to bring up something painful you told me in confidence" kind of way. The negative feelings didn't come from "oh no I am seen in a different light this social interaction is botched" or whatever, it was more from a place of hurt. I knew they were doing it to be dicks as an attempt to make me look bad or unhinged, or try to bring up a painful memory to ruin my confidence. Again, whatever they brought up didn't make me feel shame through the judgement of others, but it added more layers to whatever social situation I was in, and it mostly just hurt that my friends were actively trying to hurt me. Also I never had that gamertag but man it was close to that tbh.

That being said I still feel shame, it just never manifests from the judgement of others. It usually comes from me recognizing some kind of failure on my part. I feel secondhand embarrassment at times when I'm watching a social train wreck unfold, but oddly enough almost never in person. Usually if I'm watching a video or stream from a detached perspective I feel it, and if it's in person I more often than not have to have it explained to me later. And I only feel cringe when I look at people getting physically hurt.

I actually don't know if this is due to cptsd, autism, adhd, my upbringing, or a mix of them. Would love to know if anyone else has a similar thought process or "experiences" embarrassment like that. I'm currently in the middle of working with professionals to find out where I'm at on the Autism spectrum and ADHD spectrum, if I'm on either at all (though they keep saying I'm on both I'm waiting to get it in writing before saying for certain.)

#neurodivergent #autism #adhd culture #cptsd #embarrasment

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ne0nlightzz · 2 years

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Yo! this is basically any and all info for my page and writing /story requests!! [Fandoms,"Rules",DNI,ETC]

since that's why i started a tumbler acc, because the writing community on here is actually seeming pretty large and you can never try to put yourself out there on to many platforms with a writing aspect,right?...

well actually you can and that's why i wasn't even aware that i had a qoutev account for nearly a year when i went to go make a new one and was logged into that one on my laptop but ykyk.

•ACC RULES•

Basic acc rule- all of my soicals are LGBTQ+,OSDD/DID,SFW Agere/Petre,Furry and neurodiverse friendly but if you're homophobic or toxic i most likely won't hesitate to block your ass!:]

STORY REQUEST RULES

I WILL NOT WRITE-

Pedophilia

anything sexual with a kid-

ITS A CHILD WHY DO YOU WANT THAT IF ITS BELLOW 18 AND NOT HOW OLD YOU ARE AND YOU ARE YOUNGER THEN LIKE 14-15 GET SOME HELP MATE ITS A ISSUE-

Overly toxic relationships- like if that's the whole story im uncomfy writing that because its just- its not my best to write i guess-

I WILL WRITE

[its not actually that may rules,i just over elaborate and it makes the list seem long-]

Just about any relation ship[BxB/MxM,GxG/WxW,Poly,romantic,platonic]

I do write xReader stories [for the fandoms listed below] but at the moment i will only write Male-Reader, FTM-Reader or Gender neutral-Reader because there's just not enough of those and because that's what I'm comfortable with as I'm still newer to writing xreader/self inserts and stuff

I can write 'smut' but ive never actually tried because haft way through im just kinda have a whole "wtf did i just write and what will my friends think of me if they find this" moment but please request that with whatever you want but keep in mind i won't write sexual shit for children or family- im trying to stay sane here and am a minor, man, sorry.

platonic or romantic relationships

angst[god im getting go at writing angst- its weird],fluff,those (sorta weird n random) sexual but not scenes-

G0re- [i want to try writing g0re so bad ngl- because how dose one write g0re and make it good?-/injury ig

Okay lets be honest ill write just about anything but

ill try to write GxG but I will not be writing xfem reader at the moment,I'm personally uncomfy doing so because it makes me dysphoria horrible

anything outside the fandoms i have listed for requests [if its not there ask bc i might make acceptions]

weird ped0 and sexual minor/child shit[once again its a childddd ill write you a cute lil fluff sibling or parent figure thing but not anything that's illegal n gross<3]

if its a aged up AU ill think about it but won't 100% write it,ill really have to think about it

i just want to experiment with writing different things and learn different writing techniques so i can maybe find what exactly i enjoy writing the most and i feel like this would be a good way-

•FANDOMS•

Fandoms i will write for!

Supernatural

The Black Phone

The Lost Boys [yk that old vampire movie? love it-]

Creepypasta

Marble hornets

IT [all of them- also the bowers gang- I'll write for them 100%-]

FNAF/Afton's [yeah that can go downhill VERY FAST]

The owl house/Gravity Falls [yes, I'm aware imma nerd but give me a break- there good shows]

Ninjago[ill only write for season 1-3 atm because im re-watching it after god knows how long and can only remember those seasons atm]

Sander sides [does this even have an active fandom anymore?]

Marvel/Spider man [Mainly Iron man or Spiderman because they are like my comfort characters- i also write for both the Tom Holland and Andrew Garfield Spiderman !!Not the actors but the character!!][spider man is now my gender-this is a joke,please don't attack me-]

those are my main fandoms that i will 1000% write for and below are some that I'm a bit iffy about writing for[like I'm not iffy about possible writing about a demonic triangle]

OHSHC[once again, is there even a fandom for this anymore?-]

TBHK

idfk- im not rly a anime person anymore and can't think of anymore fandoms that im still semi-apart of-

DNI

Basic criteria[Anti-LGBTQ+, Abelist, Racist, Sexist, ETC]

Ped0/MAPS/Zoophile

Fake-claimers [yk who u are]

Anti-Agere/Petre[i get it if you don't rly vibe w/ it but don't go bashing a coping mech man- it's not a kink or smt, just a way to cope and usually involuntary-]

Under the age of 13

Proshippers/Fujioshi/Girls who fetishize bxb n all

MASTER LISTS/MORE

My writing socials masterlist [you can find all my bigger works there]

Fandom masterlist

About me

My general socials masterlist [my other socials like Spachey and others]

EXTRA INFO

I'm dyslexic and that's sorta self-explanatory and explains any grammar/spelling errors in my work. While i do try to edit and catch all mistakes and errors sometimes they slip past me and don't get corrected, there for my work sometimes has a few minor errors but nothing that should actually affect the quality of my work a ton.

I[rarely]use slurs i can reclaim and will only use ones i can reclaim in my work[and that the character can reclaim- unless for drama purposes-] but I WILL NOT USE SLURS I CAN NOT RECLAIM!

I do work on my own individual story's aside from fandom shorts/oneshots so i don't always work on fanfics and sometimes have to take time for those stories!

To quickly address smt I've had issues with

While yes, I do fully support the agere/petre community's I'm not actually a involved part of them anymore due to personal issues and no longer finding it a safe place personally, I rarely regress and slip into headspace and only am a caregiver to one long distance little who is a close friend.

And while yes, I am open to writing 'nsfw content' that's not what I'm about, while yes I'll do it, I will never write anything not sfw for the agere community and want this to be a place for all kinds of people and stories. I want to write agere stuff but also don't want to have to keep my blog 1000% sfw because I write a few comfort n age/petre stories- but I also don't want to make my blog 100% nsfw because I rarely write that and part of why I do is being I'm hypersexual due to past personal stuff.

How many times did i say "while yes," in this? -

Yes.

PLEASE REQUEST- I LOVE GETTING WRITING REQS SO MUCH!!

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oleanderblume · 2 years

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My thoughts at bed time o the current state of affairs in my country

As stated. I should be asleep right now but I can't because my friend from Australia and I were chatting about what's going on over on my side of the pond.

And she said something that really struck me.

She said she was trying to pinpoint what stage of Nazi Germany my country was in (I'm in America)

At first I thought it was sort of a joke, and it probably was. But now..not so much.

I love history, and I am very keen of how it repeats itself, especially in political affairs. So I can definitely see how a person outside the US would view the current climate of our country and its politics right now.

But it didn't really *hit* me until I realized just how close we are now.

It sounds preposterous, likely. I probably sound like a raving lunatic making a mountain out of a molehill. Especially to those who differ in perspectives.

But I do think putting it into words will help me sleep. Which I need cause I have to be up at 4am.

Disclaimer: this post is not intended to belittle or minimize the events of ww2, nazi Germany or the holocaust. It's meant only to make sense of the current parallels I've noticed in my own country.

I'm going to start with what I personally experience and notice. The LGBT community and specifically Trans people.

When Hitler took power in Germany, he used Jewish people as a scapegoat. The "all powerful evil" and so on. He ascribed to them an agenda. One seeded in hate and antisemitism that portrayed innocent people as monsters.

If you live in the US, or are familiar with the rhetoric surrounding LGBT people, and specifically trans people, please not that similarity because it is *important*

Hitler used Jewish people to redirect the German populations distrust, cynicism, and dissent of the regime at the time. As the economy had ruptured after the first world War and Germany was in an economic slump for decades. Sound familiar?

The German people were given an object to hate in lieu of the actual cause of their country's troubles and they took it in stride, easily redirecting their dissent toward an entire demographic of completely innocent people, their neighbors and friends. Because it was the easiest route.

This happened over the course of years. Quietly. No big screaming campaigns. It was slow.

Germany peeled away Jewish individuals liberties, rights, removing their ability to work, to own businesses, while allowing its people to officiate the disgust with the antisemitic rhetoric that had been spreading for years before then. Again. Sound familiar?

Let me...try to articulate this instead of trying to teach a history lesson.

Lgbt people have had our rights for roughly...ten years? At least our right to marry. I'm not sure about the decriminalization of homosexuality. Before then, the aids crisis killed nearly all of an entire generation. And since then, states have been trying to roll back rights of lgbt people.

But let me put this *further* into perspective. Yes, the lgbt community as a whole are a target of hatred from the masses. As has been for several years now. But which part has had our rights consistently rolled back over the course of these years? Trans folks.

trans feminine people are the front and center of the visible hatred and dissent. And in the background, states have been legislating laws that actively discriminate against trans, nonbinary, and intersex people.

Trans mascs hormones are federally regulated. Trans kids are threatened by states who wish to forcibly detransition them (or prevent them from transitioning) by removing them from their homes. Our medical care has been attacked for upwards of five years now to the point that some states have made it illegal to seek transgender medical care.

And what is the hot topic of debate if not the "Trans agenda"? Lauded as monsters and pedophiles who want to brainwash children. More now do I see the topic of Trans people being debated than I do any other one.

We are the scapegoat. We have *been* the scapegoat. For years and it's only just starting to be noticeable.

Back to my history lesson. Germany had begun rolling back the rights of Jewish people long before they were put in camps. They made Jewish people "indentifiable" by using the Aryan supremacist rhetoric. That all Jewish people looked a certain way, did certain things, spoke certain ways. They were made not just identifiable by their features. But by the German state.

Made to register their wealth with the state. So every Jewish family, Jewish name was on a list.

What does this have to do with anything going on in the US??

This is roe v wade.

For those not aware, roe v wade was passed initially on the predication of a right to medical privacy. It protected individuals from being discriminated based off of their medical history, including that of abortion.

What does this have to do with trans people??? You may ask.

Contrary to what a lot of people are crying about, this has *a lot* to do with trans people.

Transgender individuals are arguably the *most* medically accessible part of the lgbt community. We *require* medical care and access to it to transition. Our hormones are prescribed by doctors, our surgeries performed by surgeons. ALL our medical information regarding these things was, at one point. Protected by roe v wade.

Now it's not.

Of course, there is a massive intersection of trans people and cis people here. Because this overturn affects every single demographic that has been targeted by white supremacists and christofascists. All of us are now at risk of having that medical information viewed by employers, constituents, peers. Anyone.

Overturning roe v wade is the Supreme courts way of getting a national registry of every single person who has undergone *any* medical care at any point in their life.

And with consistent rolling back of rights for trans people, the next step is to make a registry of us. Because it's now significantly easier to do so and trans individuals are at the *highest* risk. Because we are the scapegoat.

I've been keeping track of things rather loosely, because thinking about these things is stressful, and it was me realizing just what roe v wade has opened up the possibility of that I understood that things are far more grim than I think people realize.

Yes. Of course, be mad. Your rights were removed. But I need you all to pay very close attention to what happens within the next few years because we are at the turning point.

Similarly, during nazi Germany, after Jewish people were forced to register their wealth. They were made even more identifiable. The dissent of the German citizens being wholly directed at the "undesireables" of Germany. Of the world. Violence and putward harassment of Jewish people, disabled people, Romani, and homosexual men was here high and only growing.

Pay attention to the current events here in the US. I have already been harassed for being trans. People are already violent toward us. Pastors are calling for lgbt peoples executions. People running for state house seats are calling for our execution. The violence is already high and it will only grow.

Terrorism within the country has grown exponentially against America's "undesirables".

And America itself has a past wrought with discrimination and violence. We have already put people in camps. We still have people in camps. Our country's ideology of eugenics influenced Hitler to commit the atrocities he had.

We are at the point where everyone labeled as undesirable is about to be wearing stars. Because that's the next step.

There will be things between that as well. Further restriction of movement. Trans people likely will lose their access to hrt, if not, it will become a heavily regulated drug that we won't be able to move from state to state, let alone country.

They have already violated the 4th amendment by allowing officers to search homes wothout warrant within 100 miles of the US border.

Tell me what purpose that legislation has? It is made with the explicit purpose to *catch* people. People fleeing. Because I can guarantee, a lot of people are going to be fleeing this country within the next few years. And if they catch people trying to enter, those people will be treated the exact same as the ones fleeing. Or the ones helping others flee.

They are building a wall, not the kind that trump had intended. But a wall nonetheless.

Now...the USA is a very big country. A very big landmass. And it's heavily divided by populations and representation. So I am predicting that, if my theory is correct (and believe me. I don't want it to be) there *will* be a civil war. The east and west coast are likely going to be on the more..humanitarian side. But the heartland and south will likely be the aggressors.

It will start with simple infractions. States that protect abortion rights and lgbt rights will be indicted for harboring "criminals" from other states. Think like..a tug of war game. Both pulling at their side. Terrorism and gun violence will rise exponentially. Hate crimes will as well. Likely targeted at black and brown trans folk, immigrants, and lgbt people first.

There will be dissent even amongst our communities. Like there is now. Because they want division. They want cis women to ignore the trans, nonbinary and intersex people affected by roe v wade. They want to incarcerate as many of us as possible because that will be the easiest way to close in.

Get the people to hate the "enemy" reduce the rights of the "enemy" make the "enemy" easily identifiable and then incarcerate them.

The easiest way to do that is by making it look like something else. Distractions, division, incarceration.

Individual states will likely band together to make us more identifiable. Including cis or het passing people. Because like I said. ALL our medical data will be available to use against us.

I predict a civil war breaking out on the southwestern border first. Likely over immigration. All while more lgbt rights are peeled back. And this time, democrats are NOT on our side. (They never have been)

The two party system will fuel the dissent even more. Pitting individuals against one another in a mud slinging contest while both parties continue to peel back the liberties of individuals. The democratic party will likely promote themselves as arbiters of peace. But as history has shown, they will likely not do anything to combat the republican conservatives.

You see where I'm going with this right? You see the similarities now.. right?

This is a dire prediction that I don't want to come to fruition. But it already is. And honestly my only hope as of current is that other nations intervene on the American peoples behalf.

I'm not one to conspiracy. Frankly, I just don't get into that sort of stuff very much. But this, to me, does not seem like a conspiracy. It seems like something very. Very. Familiar.

Addendum

Because I'm not Jewish, and can't speak on behalf of Jewish people or the decendants of those who have survived or died during the holocaust, I would *welcome* any Jewish person or historian to comment or reply to this post with their thoughts.

My conclusion is formed from my observation and the limited understanding of the events leading up to the holocaust, and thus is limited in itself. If anyone with a better understanding than I would like to chime in on this conclusion, you are welcome to do so.

Additionally, while the focus of this post and my observation is rooted in my trans identity and experience, the current circumstances and prediction of events are *not* I am assuming that, based off of current political rhetoric, trans individuals are facing the brunt of discourse, not that we are the sole victims.

I believe that every person who is not white, cis, or a gender conforming, explicitly devout Christian man will be the most affected by my prediction. As the current country we live in is heavily based of Christian theology and predicates its values on the ideals of conformity to that ideology.

Just because I have not explicitly mentioned every single demographic my prediction and observation has concluded, does not mean those individuals are not also going to be impacted by the current state of events.

#usa #american politics #trans #lgbt rights #human rights #reproductive rights #trans rights #politics #history #jewish #second holocaust

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thekleesh · 1 year

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Hey what’s up Tumblr it’s been a little while

I haven’t made an actual post besides reblogging my girlfriend’s art on here in a good few years and I figured with seeing how Twitter is doing these days, now might be a good time to post a big-ass update.

NUMBER ONE:

My YouTube channel is doing well! I just posted this big huge sexy video about emulation and why you should do it and why it isn’t illegal (if you do it the right way). I’m super proud of it. Check it out!

youtube

In addition, I have uploaded a few other videos since my last post that I think (most of) are pretty cool, so if you enjoy this one I implore you to give the rest of my channel a shot.

Here’s one of my favorites.

Here’s another one for good measure.

NUMBER TWO:

Since my last post, I have also made a significant change to the way my streams are broadcasted. Up until last month, I used Twitch for all of my streaming endeavors. I did decently well for myself, met some great people, made some amazing friends, and even received a handful of payouts. I already made a big announcement video going into greater detail about this, but the short version is I am no longer on Twitch. I decided I didn’t like splitting my attention between Twitch and YouTube, so I have fully moved over to streaming on YouTube. It was a big change considering how long I’ve been on Twitch, but I am confident in my decision.

If you would like to see the farewell stream I did announcing all of this and going into greater detail as well as answering some questions, that’s right here.

NUMBER THREE:

I have been doing art still! I don’t do it particularly often, but I have a couple pieces I’m willing to share with you today. I’ll likely make separate posts for these later on, but I’ll stick them here in the meantime to make my post look longer than it actually is.

The first one is Marie from Splatoon! This is part of a collab I did with @skyeroxy where she sketched both Squid Sisters, and we each painted one. I am incredibly happy with how the collab turned out and I think I did a good job with Marie. I would hope so, because she’s my favorite.

Earlier in the year I also took a crack at drawing Captain Amelia from Treasure Planet. I rewatched the movie on a whim one day and each time I do it only solidifies the fact that it’s my favorite animated Disney movie, it just doesn’t get old.

Once again, these (and a few others) will get their own posts probably later in the week.

NUMBER FOUR:

Just kidding there isn’t a fourth point. I would just like to reiterate that yes, I will likely be more active on here than I have been. Even if Twitter doesn’t fizzle out in the next few days I really enjoy the much more relaxed atmosphere that exists on this site, so I’ll probably spend less time on Twitter and more time here regardless of what happens.

I have two blogs, there’s this one and my side blog.

I will reserve this blog for serious announcements like videos and maybe stream alerts (which will be deleted after the corresponding streams have concluded). My side blog is for frequent reblogging of things I enjoy like video games, memes, cool art, you get the idea. Basically retweeting on cocaine. If Twitter really truly does go down in a pit of flames, I’ll use my main account (this one) to post random bullshit thoughts and opinions and jokes and whatever else I do on my Twitter currently.

Aaaand for good measure, some links:

YouTube (Main Channel) // (Live)

YouTube (Stream Archive)

TikTok (FUCK this website I just post clips from my streams on it)

Twitter (A bit redundant to put this here but hey, it’s here)

I am technically available on other sites, like my Twitch account is still around, but these are the ONLY ones where you’ll find me active in any capacity. I still use Twitch but only as a viewer these days.

I’m working on a new public Discord server as well, I’ll post the invite to that when I feel it is ready. It’s coming along.

Alright, that’s it. Thank you for reading.

#thekleesh #update #youtube #twitch #tiktok #twitter

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my-insanity-is-an-artform · 2 years

Note

Now I am Wondering, would any Legend x reader poly ship work? As in, would he be comfortable enough trying out that sort of relationship with Reader and another Link? Your Link x reader poly fics have given me some sort of brainrot and I for one and ok with it 😌

Legend is an interesting one, my dear Nonny. I think it would take him some time to come to terms with a poly relationship since he'd have to trust the other partner. That being said I don't think it would take too long if he did know and trust the person before the dating started.

For example, I have a Legend/Reader/Marin ask and a Legend/Reader/Warriors ask waiting and I already did the Legend/Reader/Hyrule ask.

That being said, I do so love Bunnies.

Legend hovered behind a wall, listening to you talk to Sheerow anxiously.

The group had finally been dropped into his Hyrule close to his home and he had dragged them all there to be eagerly greeted by Ravio. The merchant had hustled them all in, flogging his wares and once again trying to buy one of Wild's fire swords off of him.

However, it hadn't escaped Legend's notice that his friend had taken a liking to you. The increased twitchiness, the eager smiles and the way he looked at you all star struck only sold the idea.

Not that it was any surprise. Ravio was his counterpart after all.

But what seemed to sting the most was the way you responded so positively to it.

You engaged with him, let him into your personal space, and laughed at all of his corny jokes. You actively sought him out to talk with him and more than once Legend had seen you reach out to grasp an arm.

It was obvious that whatever feelings Ravio had for you, you were more than willing to reciprocate.

And that's fine. Just perfectly fine! He's happy for you and Ravio. Ravio is a good and loyal friend, however much he tries to deny it, and you... you deserve the whole world.

It's just...

He thought you liked him.

You always teamed up with him whenever possible and you always saved him a seat next to you. More than once, he's gotten caught up in a fight, whether verbal or physical, and you always had his back. You complimented even the simplest of things.

But maybe he'd just imagined the soft admiration in your eyes whenever you looked at him.

And that was what led him to hiding behind a wall like a coward as you talked to a bird.

He couldn't help himself. He'd overheard you talking about Ravio and had frozen.

"It's not fair! Why did he have to be so cute?!"

Goddesses, he did not want to listen to this, but he just couldn't move his feet.

"It's just his hair and his eyes and his damn bunny teeth drive me crazy, Sheerow! How am I supposed to function around him? It should be illegal to be that pretty."

Legend closed his eyes and breathed deeply as if that would block your voice and Sheerow's supportive chirping. He'd known you liked Ravio, but it still hurt to have it confirmed.

"Oh and don't get me started on Legend!"

Wait, what?

"He's just as bad as Ravio, with his smile and his eyes and his damn legs. It isn't fair. Just how am I supposed to function around them?"

Legend snapped his eyes open and peeked around the corner to see you pacing and gesturing toward Sheerow.

"And it's not like I can tell them, 'Oh, by the way, I'm polyamorous and I've fallen in love with both of you, so if you'd both be cool with making me the filling in a bunny sandwich, I'd be much appreciative!'"

Sheerow let out a scandalize chirp and you paused. Legend himself lost all the air in his lungs.

"Ok, I didn't mean it like that, but the point stands. Why would they want to date me, let alone date me and let me date the other? Polyamory isn't common here which is just tragic. Everyone is going to make me choose and I don't want to. I have two hands. Why can't I use them?" You finally stopped and sat on the group with a flump. Bringing you knees up and burying your head in your hands, you let Sheerow perch on your head.

"So what am I going to do, Sheerow? I can't just ask them to share me."

Why not? Why not share you?

Legend ticked the idea over in his head. It was a strange idea, his significant other having another boyfriend, but the more he thought about it, the more he kind of liked the idea.

Ravio treated you so well and even if the smile wasn't directed at him, it still made Legend's stomach flutter.

If it was Ravio he shared you with, then maybe he would be okay with the idea that you were in love with two people.

Afterall, Ravio and Legend were counterparts and you had two hands.

And then there was that confession. You loved him and you loved Ravio. No one would have their heart broken.

Legend smirked and turned on his heel quietly.

He had a business proposition to make to his friend and a potential lover to court.

#linked universe x reader #linked universe #LU Legend #lu time #polyamory #amatonormativity #Reader has two hands and Legend makes sure they get to use both #Ravio not specifically included but definitely simping for Reader #Of course he says yes #He's a businessman #A little ashamed that this took 3 days to write cause brain has no go juice #Hopefully will have more go-juice over the weekend

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popopretty · 3 years

Text

Storm Bringer Spoilers (1)

I really like this part about Dazai so I decided to translate it. I don’t mind it if you re-translate it but mind that I don’t speak either Japanese or English as my first language, and my vocabulary is pretty limited in both.

I may post something else later, but I cannot promise anything.

That was a dumping ground.

A land that was forgotten by everyone. Under the cloudy sky that looked like it was going to pour down at any moment, a bunch of discarded shipping containers were lying on top of one another just like corpses. The bare soil of the dumping ground was exuding toxic substances due to illegal dumping. Not even a field mouse would dare to approach it.

A place not on the map. The loneliest place in Yokohama. Close to the center of it, is where Dazai lived. What Dazai lived in was not a house. It was one of the abandoned shipping containers. Inside the big container, that was original used to export passenger cars overseas, was a refrigerator, an exhaust fan, a desk, a chair, a bed, and a bare light bulb.

No one who knew Dazai would go near it, not even his subordinates in the Port Mafia. It was not just because the place itself was weird. It was because no one could predict how Dazai would react if someone approached his private residence. He might tear off the limbs of the subordinates who come to his house before killing them, or he might also say welcome and offer them tea and sweet. No one could read Dazai’s heart.

The black ghost of Port Mafia. That’s what Dazai was called.

It had been one year since he joined the Port Mafia. He commanded a secret unit under the direct control of the Boss and achieved astounding results. He crushed countless organizations, and opened up countless new business channels. That was an incomparable record, not only for the current Mafia members, but also the executives through out the Mafia’s history. Even the performance of Piano Man, the most successful member of the Flags, was nothing but child’s play compared to Dazai’s.

However, no one trusted Dazai.

Because the darkness that lied deep inside his eyes, was darker than the jet black of the night that lurked inside the dumping ground. The more he continued his activities in the Mafia, the darker and more incomprehensible he became. He never told anyone the reason. He kept slaughtering enemies and paving the bloody path for the Port Mafia, just like he was driving himself into a corner of a dark place somewhere.

Tremendous achievements. But there was one person who was not happy about that honor. That was Dazai.

Dazai sat on the round chair inside the container by himself, staring into the darkness. On the desk next to him, his cellphone was ringing. That was from Chuuya. But Dazai won’t pick up. He didn’t even look. He just sat there with his arms folded, staring into the darkness and the door in front of him.

His eyes were so calm. Those black eyes absorbed all the sounds and lights and let nothing escape. Even his own emotions. The phone stopped ringing as if it had given up, and things became quiet again. That silence seemed to be even deeper and heavier than before the phone rang. In that moment, Dazai’s eyes, that had been staring into the depths of the darkness, twitched.

The front door started to open.

When the metal door opened slowly, from that direction appeared someone’s figure, covered in the darkness.

“You have quite a taste for your place to live, Dazai-kun.” The person said with a smooth voice. “Really, what are you afraid of, living in a horrible place like this? Property taxes?”

Dazai’s expression didn’t change one bit. He answered with a rough, emotionless voice. “I am afraid of you, Verlaine-san.”

The person entered the room. That was a tall person. He was wearing a blue suit that could remind people of the sea at night. He has mellow eyes that look like he is entertained by the things in front of him. A black hat. The assassin king, Paul Verlaine.

“You are kidding”, Paul Verlaine said while stepping inside the container. “You are not afraid of anything. I can tell just by looking at your eyes. Even when I tried to kill you two days ago, you barely felt a thing.”

“I have a rather uncommon opinion when it comes to my own death.” Dazai said, smiling faintly through the corner of his eyes. But those black eyes were absolutely still.

“For an assassin like me, that is definitely not a selling point.” Verlaine shrugged his shoulders.

Verlaine walked into the room, his leather shoes clacking on the floor. Then he grabbed the papers on the desk. “This is the internal document of the Port Mafia?”

It was a stack of about ten pages of paper. If one were to sell that to another organization, they would get enough money to live and play for their whole three lifetimes. That’s how valuable it is, the document that contains confidential information of the Port Mafia.

Verlaine shook the stack of papers next to his face. “Two days ago, you said that you would give this to me. That’s why I didn’t kill you. Because I need this for my work. But why? What is it that you want in return? Don’t give me the “Please do not kill me” joke.”

“It’s simple.” Dazai slightly grinned. Then he said with a low voice, just like the groanings one would hear in their nightmares, “I want to see the Port Mafia burn.”

Verlaine’s face turned serious. Then he stared at Dazai, as if he just noticed someone for the first time, even though they have always been there.

“Isn’t Port Mafia the organization that picked up you and raised you?”, Verlaine asked cautiously after a long pause.

“That’s right.”

“Then why?”

Dazai definitely heard the question at that moment, but he didn’t answer and remained silent. His gaze was wandering as if he was looking for something that wasn’t there. And then he smiled, a bitter smile that would make anyone who see it want to scream.

“I’m tired of it.”

Verlaine narrowed his eyes. Those eyes were fixed on Dazai, as if he was trying to search for the other’s true intention.

Seemingly amused by that look, Dazai took a glance at Verlaine and said to himself, “In the end, I couldn’t find anything.”

...

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #storm bringer #bsd spoilers #spoilers #paul verlaine

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neonacity · 3 years

Text

HYACINTHE | Chapter 1: Jaemin x Reader

Summary:

Na Jaemin is far from being your typical 20 year old. Instead of slaving through college, he wastes away his hours cracking safes. Weekends that should be spent partying with friends consist of illegal races on good days and small scale bombings on bad ones.

Na Jaemin is far from being average, unless you consider being a member of Seoul's top organized crime family normal.

There is no such thing as a sense of normality and peace in his trainwreck of a life, so when he met a barista who was brave enough to call out his dangerous taste in coffee, he was like a moth to the flame. Everything about her is normal, which means she is forbidden to him, in all sense of the word.

So why, then, does he always find himself in the front steps of her shop, breaking all his personal rules even if he wishes he could stay away?

A/N + Disclaimer: this is a side story to Black Daisies, my main mafia fic feat. 0T23. While the plot is based on the main story, this can also be read as a standalone fic. As usual, this is purely a work of fiction and in no way am I implying any member of NCT to behave the way I write them here. tw: crimes, heists, potential death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities.

PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader

BLACK DAISIES MASTERLIST

___________________________________________________________

I've known him for almost a year and a half when it happened.

The small bell of the cafe's back door dinged so hard, I thought it would get ripped off from the wall. I looked up, eyes wide with panic and hands still wrapped around the cold corners of a metal tray when a head of jet black hair appeared on the entrance. It took me half a second to register what I was seeing before I found myself flying to his side in a heartbeat.

"Jaemin! Oh my god, what the hell is going on!"

My first thought was that he was injured. He was doubled over and I quickly hunched to his level so that I could peer at his face. He looked paler than usual, beads of sweat stuck on his forehead, eyes glazed with a slight look of panic as he tried to keep himself from falling over. I threw out my hands to hold him by the shoulders and that's when my gaze caught it; the small black package that he quickly tried to hide inside his bomber jacket before I could even fully see what it is. I didn't give it much attention back then—I was far too focused in trying to see if he was hurt anywhere to worry about anything else. When his gaze finally focused on me, I thought I saw guilt there.

"I need your help. Sorry, I don't know where else to go."

My brows furrowed together.

"What the hell is going on—"

He reached out for one of my hands helping him up and squeezed it tight.

"Please don't ask me questions. Just—can you trust me?"

"I don't understand—" my voice started to rise. Is he hurt? Bleeding? In pain?

"Please."

My lips parted then pursed again.

"Okay."

Jaemin tugged me closer to him and threw a panicked look outside. He then pulled me farther into the now closed cafe, back into the storage room, the location of which he shouldn't even know in the first place.

"Let me hide here for a bit. Just a bit."

That encounter was my second mistake since meeting Na Jaemin.

I should have asked questions.

Lots of them.

___________________________________________________________

The first mistake happened about a year and half ago.

"Welcome to Brick and Beans, what would you like to have today?"

I plastered on my practiced smile and looked at the stranger in front of me without actually looking at him. Working in the service industry sure does things to your head once you get used to it. Despite having to deal with people all the time, you also get to develop a kind of numbness and detachment to human interaction. A face just becomes a face, a customer simply becomes just another passing responsibility. I tried to blink a few times to make myself seem more interested on the boy standing in front of my counter, patiently waiting for him to give me his order so we can go ahead and get on with both our business.

"Uh… I'll have an iced americano. No water. Eight shots of espresso."

My lips parted and curled on the sides to give him my service smile. My hand automatically reached out for the plastic cups stacked on my side while my other whipped out the marker clipped on the pocket of my apron to scribble his order.

"That's one iced americano, no water, eight—"

I stopped and blinked once. Twice. My gaze shot up at the customer in front of me again and really looked at him for the first time.

"I'm sorry, that's eight shots of espresso?"

He nodded, seemingly unbothered by my question.

"No water?"

A slight shake of the head.

"...eight shots. Of espresso."

"Eight shots, yes."

For a moment we both just stared at each other. He was looking at me patiently, probably only slightly weirded out by my question while I gave him a look that's a mix of worry and disbelief. Working as a barista has exposed me to my own fair share of weird coffee requests, but this is by far the one that takes the cake.

I softly cleared my throat and turned my attention back to the words I was scribbling on the cup. As strange as it is, I really am not in the position to judge a customer.

"That'll be 4.50 dollars. Is that for here?"

"Make it to go."

"Got it. I'll get you your order soon…"

"Jaem."

I smiled and scribbled his name on the cup.

Foot traffic was pretty slow on the cafe so I was able to quickly finish the order on autopilot. As I worked on mixing, I found myself humming softly to myself, my tune shifting into short whistles every time I would dunk an espresso shot down into that cup. I didn't even realize that the customer didn't bother taking a seat on one of the empty tables, opting to lean on the wall by the side instead, hands shoved in the pockets of his jogs as his eyes followed me.

"One iced americano for Jaem," I called out and pushed the packed drink into his hand. He handed me his card and I quickly worked on swiping it.

"You sure like your coffee explosive, huh?" I shot him a question for the sake of making small talk as I punched some buttons on my terminal.

"It's the eight shots, isn't it?"

I answered by giving him a shrug and a smile.

"It's the first time I ever did one like it. I can only imagine how it tastes like."

His lips slightly quirked into a smile. A...really cute smile if I might add.

"Is there anything wrong?"

"It's really good."

"Sure, Jaem. I'm not here to judge," I gave him a wink before handing back his card and receipt. "Well, thank you for dropping by. We hope to see you here again." He took both wordlessly and slipped them on his wallet.

I was waiting for him to walk off with his drink with the practiced polite smile plastered on my face again. He turned, coffee in hand, took about five steps, before turning to me again. I blinked in mild confusion as he placed his cup back on my counter.

"Actually… I'll have it here."

___________________________________________________________

"I'm not going to try your death coffee, Jaemin."

I didn't look up from the page I was reading but I could feel it, that deadly pout and puppy eyes combo drilling onto the side of my head. I flipped a page of my textbook over and I heard a sigh come from the boy beside me.

"I bought it for you. You said you need to finish a paper tonight."

"I do. That doesn't require me to be awake for the next week and a half," I answered back with a quirk of my lips as I finally looked up to meet his gaze. We were seated at one of the far tables of the cafe for my 15 minute break, away from the handful of customers scattered on the smattering of tables and high chairs. This has become quite a routine already… but how it started, I can't really explain.

Ever since that first order, Jaemin had made it his routine to drop by almost regularly. At first the banter started similar to how a regular customer and his favorite barista would have, but since he would always come and visit during slow hours, we would always have more time for longer conversations. Casual talk turned into light-hearted jokes, and finally into a kind of banter that comes with familiarity with each other. Slowly, I came to know the complexities of Na Jaemin, and boy, is he an enigma and a paradox rolled in one.

You never really know what to expect with him. There are days when he would be a bursting ball of energy—most of the time when he would order his drink from hell—but there are also moments when he would be quiet and reserved. I found it odd at first, but slowly accepted it since it didn't really hurt me in the first place. In fact, if I am going to be completely honest, I find this kind of personality set working for me. Imagine gaining two friends, except they're only in one body.

But that's not the only odd thing in our dynamic, too. If someone would ask me now to describe the kind of friendship I have with him, I wouldn't really know how to explain it. We joke together, laugh together, sometimes even tease the crap out of each other like we've known each other for years. We work well together, but at the same time… I know almost next to nothing about him. I don't know his address, who his other friends are, if he's going to school or not… hell, I don't even know what his number is. Outside of this cafe and his regular visits, I don't have anything to prove that he actually exists. He didn't share, and I also didn't ask.

Until today.

"Fine. I'm just going to drink this then."

I gasped before shooting him a squinted glare.

"You are going to burn a hole in your stomach, I swear to god—"

He simply shrugged and made a huge show of sipping the previously untouched tears of Lucifer.

I reached out to tug at the hood of his jacket in an attempt to call him out when I noticed it. His hair was initially masking it at first but now I could see it in full view: a purple bruise just on the side of his eye, almost to his temple.

"Oh my god, Jaemin. What happened?" I asked in a hurry as I tried to take a closer look at it. His expression changed in a heartbeat as he realized what I saw and he quickly leaned back and pulled the hoodie again over his head.

"That's—it's nothing."

"It looks so bad. How did you get that?"

He didn't answer. His eyes avoided my own and his hand gripped the plastic cup between us a little bit tighter.

"Did you get into a fight?" I pushed, gently this time.

His gaze moved to meet mine again for a few seconds. It's obvious he was contemplating what and how to answer.

"Yeah… I got into a bit of a tumble with some friends."

I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest as I leaned back on my seat. He threw me a look that silently asked what else I want from him.

"Look. You don't tell me shit but at least I know enough to be sure you are lying."

Jaemin looked away and started tapping his finger against the table.

"Why are you… why do you even want to know?"

I looked at him incredulously for a few seconds before leaning over.

"Because you're my friend and I want to make sure you are okay."

"I am okay."

"Your black eye says otherwise."

"Come on, don't push this. Can't we be friends without," he waved his hand between us. "This?"

"Jaemin, I don't even know who you are."

That made him stop. He stared at me for what felt like a full half minute and that's when I saw it for the first time. The dilemma in his eyes.

"It was because of work…"

The look of confusion I made must have been so intense that he quickly tried to jump over it.

"Work—why, what do you—"

"I'm sorry, but that's really all that I can tell you."

The sound of desperation in his tone wasn't lost on me. He looked so torn that I felt almost guilty for pressing.

"Fine… I won't ask again… As long as you are sure you're fine."

He peered at me once more as if assessing if he was finally off the hook.

"So...we're still friends?"

"Huh?"

"You and me… we're still friends?"

"Uh, yes…"

The look of relief on his face made me smile despite myself. He caught it and he made it a point to answer it with his best eye roll.

"Don't laugh at me. I don't know how to do friends."

"You're so cute~"

"Shut up."

And that was the exact day I decided—I'm never going to let Na Jaemin feel alone again.

Chapter 2

#na jaemin #jaemin #jaemin x reader #nct mafia #nct mafia au #mafia!jaemin #jaemin imagines #nct mafia fic

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stopeatingwhales · 3 years

Text

the 1995 brits (pt. 2) x damon albarn & liam gallagher

ok this has nothing to do with the brits bc now its about glastonbury 1995 i just didn't know whether i should rename it lmaoo okay enjoy x

Pairing: 1995 damon albarn & liam gallagher x reader

Warnings: none at all

Word count: 2.495

part one

༉‧₊˚✧

The Glastonbury festival was always one of the best gatherings for music every year. All the best acts in the music would all be invited to perform, and it was amazing. It formed a unity, a connection between the fans and the artists, the creators and the consumers, morphing an atmosphere which only gentrified the solidarity and wholeness the nation felt when they all held adoration to the same album, same songs, singing the choruses from their hearts, with their whole being. It was a spiritual connection with the audience; you weren’t singing to them, you were singing with them. Nothing got as good as Glastonbury - a concert size any larger you would begin to feel detached with the audience - and boy was it a good feeling to be invited this year. Our band had blown up massively, and to be able to perform on the main stage, celebrating the summer and the true joys that music is able to provide and attain, is more than just doing your part. It’s a humbling experience; the lyrics that may have seemingly been written down as a daft thought on the back of a napkin whilst you were sitting having a coffee, relaxing in the tedious cycle that is life, being chanted back to you, shows the true connection those can have with simple melodies and lyrics. Once it’s released in any format, the music, the lyrics, the melodies, they aren’t yours; just as a book, once released, is not the authors’ anymore. It possesses the ownership of the public, that who purchases it, wears it out, listens to the songs back to back to memorise every single lyric and adlib. The songs become the nation's songs, they become the mere link to a dozen memories of each and every person, which they would take to their grave, remembering the good times, and potentially the bad. The true power of music is that it forms a connection - not just with the artist, but with yourself. You can relate to whatever has been said, you can understand yourself just that bit more which allows you to grow as a person, and mature and better into the person that you were set out to be.

I was standing backstage, currently watching the performance lead by Blur, trying to hide from any form of authority who would know that I wasn’t supposed to be back here yet. My band was on in a few hours, so I wasn’t permitted backstage, the only people allowed being the group that was on next. As I admired the performance being put on by Damon and the rest of the band, mumbling lyrics every now and again of songs that I had known from their albums, I felt an arm snake its way around my waist, the grip of the person’s palm squeezing my hip slightly. “Now how come I haven’t seen your pretty face in a while?” said Liam, who was grinning at me widely.

Since the Brit awards, I forced myself to stop partying as much as I used to, due to the addiction that had been stemming from my consistent use of drugs and alcohol. It began to take its toll on me entirely, and I hated the lifestyle that I had started to inhabit. Sex, booze, drugs... they all seem so wonderful, and seem to be fundamental elements that could provide an enjoyable time, don't they? But with repetitive use of such recreational activities, it would not only initiate the worst hangovers, but would also form a pit of longing in the body, endured with your attempt to fill it up with all the illegal pharmaceuticals to make you feel whole again, but of course, the happiness only lasts for a short while before you’re passed out on a couch, waking up at 5 in the afternoon with a raging headache and the only access to pain medication being a five minute walk to the nearest corner shop because you had finished it all. And to your surprise, the pit only got more deep and paining. It was ironic; the drugs designed for jubilation, euphoria, fulfillment, started to make me feel worse than I had already done previously. “I’ve just been caught up with working on the new album, so I’ve been too focused on that to be going out like I used to,” I replied, a grin masked over my lips. It was far from a lie; my band were currently working on our third album, and it had been quite an interesting experience as we were reinventing our sound, though wasn’t the main reason I had avoided all clubs in sight. “You miss me?”

“Course I do, you’re the only girl I know that’ll go as hard as the rest of the lads,” a frown painted over his face as he looked down on me. “It’s hot, y’know.”

I scoffed, my smile still evident on my face. “Oh Liam, you’re going to make me blush!” I joked, placing my arm around his waist. We both carried on watching the performance being led by Damon, who currently had the crowd screaming over the top of their heads at Girls and Boys. Oasis were on after - even these concerts were chipping in on the mess of their feud. “You nervous?”

“Me? Nervous? Never.” Liam replied, snarling at my question.

“Really?” I asked, diverting my stare to look up at Liam, my eyebrows raised in a sarcastic manner. Even though it wasn’t evident from his facial expression, everybody would be nervous. Especially if you were performing on the main stage in a few minutes.

“Okay, maybe a little bit.” He mumbled, staring at Damon with a look of disgust on his face.

“Knew it,” I grinned, allowing my hand to run up and down his back as a form of comfort to soothe his nerves. The tight grip he kept consistent on my waist proved that he felt tense. “You’ll be amazing, you always are.”

“You hitting on me?” he quickly fired back, cocking his head to the side as he admired me, his gaze flicking to my lips every now and again.

“Of course I am.” I sarcastically replied, rolling my eyes at Liam’s child-like characteristics. By now Blur had finished their set, leaving the crowd screaming and waving things in the air as a form of goodbye. Me and Liam stayed put in our place as the four boys waltzed off the stage, me congratulating them as they walked off one by one. Damon was the last to walk off, and as he began strolling off the stage proudly, our eyes connected, causing me to dart my stare away from his robust glare that had reflected off of his orbs. Knowing of his distaste in Liam, I brushed it off immediately, remembering the pettiness of their argument the last time we had all been together at the Brits. I heard Liam utter some profanity under his breath after Damon walked past us, but I chose not to question him on it, full-well knowing it was either wanker or cunt.

When the rest of the band turned up and Oasis were on cue to go on, Liam quickly detached himself from our embrace, pressing his lips to my cheek, grinning at me widely. “Don’t miss me too much!” he shouted as he walked onto the stage, causing the crowd to erupt into a fit from the mere sight of the band getting themselves ready - Liam just standing there cooly, picking up the tambourine left on the floor for him. I marvelled at the band as they began their set, instantly grinning as soon as Liam began singing the lyrics to Rock n Roll star. Let’s hope he’s not walking off stage this time.

I continued to concentrate on their performance, oftentimes laughing as the crowd progressively got more and more rowdy, screaming the lyrics as Liam sang them, as if Noel’s backing vocals weren’t enough to keep the song going to its full potential. “I wonder when you’re going to realise that you like me.” I heard a voice mutter from behind, causing me to abruptly turn my head, even though I knew exactly who it was. My eyes were greeted with the sight of Damon, a small smirk illustrated on his lips as he glued his eyes on mine - just like he had done before when he walked past me and Liam.

“I’m sorry?” I scoffed, raising my eyebrows at his clearly egotistical assumption, though I couldn’t help but resist a smile to contract on my cheeks as I gazed at him. Much like me and Liam, we also hadn’t spoken since the Brit awards, and it would’ve been a lie if I hadn’t wanted to talk to him again. Despite the fact that there was a certain tension between us that, from each meeting, seemed to intensify, and was something we were both clearly aware of, I ignored it entirely - even if my bandmates had teased me religiously every time they saw me have an encounter with him. Go out with him already! You two are constantly flirting!

Moving away from where I was standing, I made my way over to him to be able to talk over the loud music seeping out of the speakers, instead of shouting at one another. We then exited the backstage area together, welcoming us to the view of a plain grassland where a couple trailers had been parked, both of our bands included. Eventually, we walked to one of the random trailers, assuming it was his one, and stood against the shiny metal impediment as we shared a cigarette.

“Don’t act like it’s not true,” he replied casually, him reciprocating my grin as we began to walk further into the backstage space. “I saw the way you were eyeing me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I replied, attempting to act oblivious towards his statement. I could feel him gawking, focused on me as I admired the blooming sunlight that casted out towards us, the light so bright that it caused my eyes to tear up slightly. The music was still very much audible, and the screams of the many thousands jammed together in the mosh pit were still extremely loud.

“Oh, but you do.” he mumbled, causing me to shift my view to look at him. He had now fixated his stare onto the sun, the cigarette softly placed between his lips as he inhaled quickly before taking it out and allowing the built-up smoke from his lungs to escape into the atmosphere. Dropping the tobacco roll onto the ground, he placed his foot over it in order to burn it out, then turning his head to fixate his gaze onto mine. A brief moment of silence passed as we admired one another, the atmosphere carrying an element of apprehension as to what was about to occur between us. Through my peripheral I saw moving his body slightly to come closer to mine as he lifted his back off the metal surface and stood in front of me, my gaze not daring to leave him. Our eyes maintained strong eye contact as I felt my cheeks began to heat up furiously, followed by my attempt on telling myself that it was simply due to the sun’s radiance that my face held such warmth, almost as if to doubt the feelings, the tensions that had constantly piled up every time we had seen one another.

Our noses touched as our faces then became inches apart, my eyes focused on Damon, who kept darting his eyes to my lips every few seconds. Tilting his head slightly, he leaned his body forward, softly pressing his lips onto mine. We stood there for a few seconds, to allow the moment to truly sink in. His hands were gently placed on my waist as I placed them on his arms, like a form of support to allow myself to stay upright. After a while, I snaked my hands around his neck in order to deepen the kiss, the warmth of his lips colliding against mine sending shocks all around my body - the moment didn’t feel real at all. It was as if this entire time of me knowing of him, interacting with him, being in his presence, I had attempted to avoid myself catching feelings, not getting myself engraved in a situation with another musician, but due to my mind forcing such a hindrance, it became an inevitability - I caught feelings for Damon Albarn.

As we pulled away to catch our breaths, Damon leaned back, sneaking his arms around my waist as he looked down on me. “You liked that.”

“Shut up.”

“Can’t wait for Liam to find out about this.” he grinned, playing with strands of my hair as I glared at him. I knew he was aware of the glare I was giving him, because he seemingly began to grin even wider.

“He won’t, because you’re not going to tell him.” I replied bluntly, placing my hands on his chest as I began to draw little circles over his shirt. It felt so surreal, yet so normal - there was a certain amenity shared between us proving that what was felt in the past was indeed real, and indeed reciprocated.

“Always knew you’d give in one day.” he mumbled, a devilish grin painted on his lips.

“Really?” I scoffed. “Even when the tabloids were convinced me and Gallagher were an item?” I asked, staring straight into his eyes. I noticed him frown slightly after the question left my mouth, my lips attempting to form into a smile as I broke off his smug persona.

“Well it looks like you’ve left Liam to be with me.” he grinned, our eyes connecting once again. I took his hand away from my hair to interlace it with mine, holding it close to my chest for Damon to be able to feel my heartbeat. Even though anybody could have opened their trailer door and witnessed us in such an affectionate state, none of that seemingly mattered to either one of us. Everything that had occurred between me and Damon felt so perfect, to the point that I would want somebody to come and witness the true beauty of this moment. There was a strong feeling in my chest that I wanted him to feel, to understand, that what was occurring between us truly meant something, and wasn’t just a silly little play to mess with my feelings.

“Liam’s not that bad you know.”

“I’m just joking, love, don’t worry.” he mumbled, bringing our interlaced hands to his face to allow him to kiss the back of my hand. “You wanna go get something to eat before you head on?”

“Sure, I’d love to.” I said, forcing us to detach our bodies from our embrace and walk over to one of the food stalls, hand in hand.

#damon albarn x reader #Liam gallagher x reader #Liam gallagher #damon albarn #blur #blur band #oasis band #my writing #band imagines #fluff #nineties #90s #music

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spacedikut · 3 years

Text

exam help ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: a self-indulgent blurb about spencer helping with exams :) 1.7k

a/n: first fic of the year :D happy 2021!

masterlist

Another anguish-filled screech reverberates from your and Spencer’s shared office, bringing even your pet fish in the tank to attention.

It’s the third one this hour. Spencer tries to ignore it, just like you told him to, but God you sound like you’re in pain and Spencer can’t exactly ignore that, can he? He loves you and cares for you and- oh. A thump reaches his ears. A textbook, maybe? Did you punch your textbook?

He considers for a moment that the neighbours will be alarmed, perhaps call the police or tentatively knock with a, “Is everything okay in there?”

It wouldn’t be the first time.

What would he tell them? Oh, my apologies, my partner has exams coming up and just told me they get why unsubs do that now. I am also terrified.

There are many instances where Spencer feels useless. During his job, when his mother would have an episode, when his friends have problems he just wouldn’t understand. But, somehow, and maybe controversially, this is the worst type of uselessness. The type that leaves him staring at the wall, questioning everything, the type that makes his stomach drop because all he can do is watch.

He’s been watching you for the last two weeks. He’s sick of watching, of being no help, and he needs to do something before he breaks and does something illegal.

(The illegal thing is doing your exams for you - not illegal as in, perhaps, murder)

Your frazzled head pops out from the office, one hand rubbing your eyes and a permanent frown etched on your face, and with a fragile voice you ask, “Can you make me a coffee, please?”

Now, Spencer feels hypocritical, but he has to say it. “Another? Are you sure?”

He sees the internal battle within you, how you try your hardest not to snap. It’s not his fault you’re stressed. He’s just trying to help. “Yes, I’m sure. Please, Spence,”

“Of course. I’ll bring it in.”

“Thank you.” With a pained smile, you’re gone again into the dark abyss of where you’re studying.

With quick, ingrained movements, Spencer makes your coffee with too much creamer and marshmallows. Unusual, yes, but your current diet consists of coffee and whatever he can force you to consume – like marshmallows.

But then, hello, he spots a chocolate bar haphazardly close to the bin, grabs it, and hopes you let him watch you eat it.

Stepping into the room as quietly as possible, he’s smacked in the face by the smell of lavender. It makes him nauseous, the intensity of it, quickly followed by a lurch of his heart because you poor thing, you’re being crushed by the weight of your degree – literally. The other day you purchased an insanely heavy weighted blanket and you’re drowning in it.

Now, if you were to ask Spencer who the most beautiful person on the planet is, he’d say you in a heartbeat. He’s thought that since you first met and, years later, still stands by that. But now, right now, glowering at him in the dimly lit, lavender drenched study that you used to love oh-so-much? You have the face of a French bulldog, all grumpy and furrowed and too many creases on your face to make Spencer feel like he’s actually helping when he places the coffee and snack on your desk.

Despite the crabby expression, your words are filled with love and appreciation – which happens to be Spencer’s favourite mix. “Thank you, my love.” You take a sip of the coffee, hum in delight, and for the first time in days there’s a spark of something other than torment. “You’re the best.”

Spencer’s hand holds the back of your neck and he places a series of soft kisses to your temple, mumbling, “I love you. Very much. Is there anything else you need?”

“Death.”

“Okay. I’ll work on it.”

At that, you grace Spencer with a weak half-smile. It’s enough to overwhelm Spencer, overflowing and only able to be shown through a chaste, encouraging peck on your lips and a half-hug, Spencer bent at the waist to hold you in your desk chair. He noses your hair, hoping his closeness will alleviate some stress, before stepping back and praying his eyes tell you everything he wants to say but know will elicit annoyance from you.

I love you. Take care of yourself. Rest, please. You can do this, but not if you over exert yourself. I love you.

Your eyes tell him, I’ll try. I love you. And that’s all he can ask for.

But when he leaves, shuffles past his bookshelf, his eyes catch sight of an old file that reminds him of when he was preparing for his own exams.

He gets an idea.

+++

It takes another two days, full of late nights involving work that isn’t staying up and distracting himself with books to avoid worrying over you and how late you go to sleep, and reading that leaves Spencer in awe of you and everyone in your field.

A part of him is amazed by how he wheelbarrowed the resources behind you without you noticing, another is worried about that fact, and the rest of him is excited that he can finally do something that will actually help. At least, he hopes.

(When everything is said and done, despite being endlessly grateful, you also inform Spencer that simply being there and being him and getting you coffee every time you ask is more than enough, really)

With pride, he leans back on the couch, observing his creations on the coffee table. There’s plenty of different colours, all representing a different topic, and he presses the thumbs up to like the Youtube video he was using to ensure his handwriting is easy to read.

Flashcards. Hundreds, if Spencer counted correctly. The textbooks he stole – borrowed – from under your nose lie next to his feet, the weight of them combined more of a workout than he’s (voluntarily) done in eons.

He only hopes you don’t think it’s too late, think he’s overstepping or-or that he’s doing those things that he’s been accused of before – thinking he knows best (he does, but whatever), overbearing arrogance, an unwillingness to hear and accept other people’s way of doing things.

He just wants to help. He wants you to know he’s here for you, no matter what you need. This is the thing that lets him believe he’s doing something, something good and useful. Spencer just wants to be useful.

He’s convinced you to eat a proper breakfast – fruit, oats, bread, meat, a whole buffet – and you sense something is amiss when you hear slow, tentative footsteps creeping from your bedroom.

Spencer, still in his pyjamas, glasses perched on his nose, approaches with a shallow box in his grasp. You swallow your bite, turn to face him. “What’ve you got there?”

The box is slid onto the counter next to your plate hesitantly, as if he regrets his actions as he’s doing them. Peering in, you see a blur of colour, stacks on stacks of rectangular paper filled with writing and questions and even a tips! section.

You pick up the first batch, all light blue, and flick through them, heart getting bigger and bigger with every word you read. And when you realise what they are, what Spencer’s done – for you – your heartrate has skyrocketed and the watch on your wrist is asking you if you’re okay.

“You made me flashcards?” You ask, in awe, again looking at the love of your life to find he’s already staring at you.

“I did,” He tells you, apprehensive and scared, already backtracking, “But, if you don’t think they’re useful, or-or you think I’m overstepping – I’m not trying to, I promise, I just thought…” He starts nervously shuffling and reshuffling some of his creation. “Flashcards are known to engage active recall and metacognition. Research consistently finds that applying metacognitive strategies tends to ingrain memories deeper into your knowledge, and that this kind of active recall retrieval practice leads to one-hundred and fifty percent better retention than passive studying, so…”

Your hands have a mind of their own, pulling what feels like an endless amount of cards out and turning them in your hands, from the questions on the front to the answers on the back, the ones with hints and advice and there’s several with doodles that are so Spencer you hold them to your chest. You’re so enamoured by this man that is still rambling and bumbling because he takes your silence as distaste.

“I just- I hate seeing you so stressed, so I made these. You don’t have to use them, of course. They’re not even that great. It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable, you’re beyond capable, or that your methods don’t work- Just, personally, I love flashcards. I used them all the time when studying, even though I didn’t really need them, so perhaps a change of medium would do you good-“

A warm hand on his own that keep fidgeting stops him mid-stream of consciousness.

“Thank you,” You say, earnestly, “Really. These are lovely.” You leap from your seat, wrapping Spencer in warmth and love and care, and he shivers when he feels your hot breath on his ear when you repeat your thanks again and again.

When he pulls you even closer, so your torso curves into his own, you feel the lightest you have in weeks. You’re in the arms of the man you love, who knows you love him too and you know loves you so much – enough to spend several nights reading your cursed textbooks so he could create something that might help – and now you’re confident that you can do it. With the help of Spencer and his lovingly hand-made flashcards, you can do it.

And if, somehow, it goes awry, that’s okay too. Because you’ll still have Spencer, your number one fan, who will be there to comfort you and advise you in any way he can. He’ll never let you doubt yourself, never allow a self-deprecating joke if he can help it, because if he has to, he’ll love and support you enough for the both of you until you can do it yourself.

The world feels a little brighter, your breaths feel a little lighter, all because of Spencer. So you kiss him, murmur love against his lips, and get ready to take on whatever dares to come your way.

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @roses-and-grasses @ta-ka-shi-ma @ogmilkis @chiffonchronicles @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @gublertoon @averyhotchner @wheeledup @shadyladyperfection @joodeduarte @calm-and-doctor @

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #mine #the end is super cheesy but #eeeeeeeeeeeeee

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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

Text

Prisoner's Game Pt. 2 (Rowaelin)

Part 1

~Rowan~

Rowan didn't think he'd ever been so pissed off in his life.

The only time that even came close was when he lost his first and only court case, but over the years he'd come to live with that.

This though?

This immature, childish, irritatingly clever woman... he had a feeling he'd carry the rage he felt against her until the day he finally died of it.

Although, if he was honest, his returning move had been a little childish, too.

He'd ordered one of the guards to strip her cell of everything except the chess set. Her mattress, the makeshift knife he shuddered to think she'd had in the same room as him, her pillow.

If she wanted to steal his shit, he'd steal hers, too.

He'd also had the guard move one of his pawns forward on the board.

Not the most creative, but he didn't have many options.

What did you take from a woman who had nothing? How did you punish someone who was already serving the longest punishment available?

The bank had seized her assets when she'd been locked up, and the lease on her apartment had long since run out. She didn't have any personal items with her, didn't seem to even care about anything besides making his life hell.

Case in point, when he got home that night, exhausted from dealing with Aelin and spending a long day at the office, he'd discovered her retaliation.

She'd stolen his bed.

The whole goddamn thing, frame and all.

How she'd managed to get it out of a penthouse condo with security not realizing a thing, he had no idea. He knew from experience it wouldn't even fit through the door.

It'd seemed if she was going to be uncomfortable, so was he.

Steaming with anger, he'd showered and flopped on the couch like an idiot, not even able to sleep thanks to the rage she'd worked him into.

She was completely kicking his ass. From the inside of a jail cell.

He hadn't gotten more than a few hours of sleep before giving up on even trying. At six, he'd dressed and driven to Whitehorn and Salvaterre, the law firm he was a partner at.

If he couldn't sleep, he'd at least figure out how the hell she was pulling this shit off.

Looking through her folder, he went through her daily schedule, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

Eight am wake-up, breakfast, shower, lunch, yard time, dinner, lights out at nine. Between activities, she worked out in her cell or read a book from the run-down prison library.

In the eight years she'd been in prison, she hadn't had a single visitor. Her cousin Aedion--a playboy Rowan couldn't be paid to associate with--delivered a care package on the first of every month.

Strange, considering nothing of the sort had been in her cell.

She'd been in solitary confinement ever since randomly attacking her cellmate a little over a month ago. She was still allowed yard time and meals with the other prisoners, but she was chained at all times.

Also strange, considering Aelin wasn't the type to do anything randomly.

Rowan watched the security tapes he'd strong armed the guards into giving him, going through the past few days to see how she'd gotten out of her cell to rob him.

He watched as she was escorted to the yard, watched as she ate breakfast and lunch and dinner alone, watched as she put herself through vigorous training in her cell.

Days of footage, and he didn't find anything.

Feeling like a bit of a creep, he watched the nighttime footage of her sleeping, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.

She didn't move too much or too little--both of which would indicate it wasn't really her under that thin blanket. There were no attempts to pick the locks in between her wrists and ankles, no digging into the wall behind her toilet.

Nothing.

Which meant someone was helping her.

He could go through the official channels and ask the police for her known connections, but he hadn't reported either of the robberies yet.

Partly because he wanted to deal with her himself, partly because he felt a bit stupid getting robbed from a woman in the most secure prison in the city.

Which means he'd have to go about it a different way.

Grabbing his keys from his desk, he debated how else he could make her miserable, unfortunately finding nothing else he could do to her, no revenge he could get from robbing her tiny little cell.

No, he'd have to try something new.

Maybe he could bribe her into confessing. She didn't have anything right now, but maybe he could give her something to lose.

He'd bring her lunch, force himself to apologize for yelling at her, and just politely ask who her accomplice was.

He thought on it as he rode down the elevator to the garage. It probably wouldn't work, but he didn't know what else to do.

And besides, he knew from experience Aelin didn't respond well to his anger.

Checking his email to make sure he wasn't missing any important meetings, he pressed the button on his car fob, expecting to hear the resounding beep from his designated parking spot.

Except the beep never came.

Slowly looking up, Rowan had to amend his earlier statement.

Now he didn't think he'd ever been so pissed off in his life.

He stormed over to the security booth, hardly refraining from grabbing the man inside and throwing him to the ground.

"Where's my car, Rolland?"

"In your spot, boss," the stout little man replied instantly and surely, snapping his gum and looking at him in confusion. "Haven't seen you drive out yet."

"Yes, exactly. Which is why it's a mystery why it's no longer in it's spot."

Rolland caught up slowly. "You mean... it was stolen? From here? From you?"

Jaw so tight his molars were practically fused together, Rowan growled, "Just let me see the security tapes from this morning."

The guard nodded quickly, eyes nervous as he typed something into the desktop in front of him.

"That's weird," he muttered a moment later, typing faster and sending Rowan a nervous glance.

"What?" he asked, trying to calm himself down with a few of the breathing techniques he'd learned over the years.

"The tapes are gone, but there's... this."

Rolland turned the screen so Rowan could see it, and all the breathing in the world couldn't keep him from slamming a fist into the side of the security shack.

The footage was gone, and on the blank black screen read: Bishop to J7.

He was going to fucking kill her.

~Aelin~

"Enjoy your taxi ride here?" she asked sweetly, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs.

Rowan scowled at her as he crossed the small room inmates could use to talk to their lawyers. He yanked the chair across from her out, then threw himself into it. "You are such a pain in my ass."

She just shrugged.

He sat across from her, angry and broody, and for a long time, he just stared at her.

Finally he asked, "Why are you doing this, Aelin?"

"I told you. You locked me up for something I didn't do. I want you to be as miserable as I am. It's simple, petty revenge."

Nothing about it was simple, but that was besides the point.

He was quiet for another moment. "Why now?"

She sighed, but she wasn't upset. Truthfully, she'd been waiting for him to ask that question.

"I want to tell you a story."

He stood up suddenly, face exasperated. "I'm not fucking joking around. And I'm not going to let you waste any more of my time."

He made his way to the door, and his dismissal of her pissed her off enough to say, "Sit down, or your car's going off Whigsby Bridge."

He smiled like he'd won their little game. "So you admit you have it."

"Sure," she said casually, honestly not giving a shit about the car.

His brow furrowed. "You're giving up? Just like that?"

"You're a fucking idiot if you think this is about your car, Rowan. But sure, I admit I know exactly where it, and your bed, and your little dagger are being hidden."

He narrowed his eyes. "This conversation is being recorded, and you just admitted to being an accessory to robbery, so-"

"You aren't going to press charges," she cut him off, pulling a cigarette out of her pocket and lighting it.

Nasty little prison habit she'd developed, smoking.

Or maybe she just did it because she knew he hated the smell.

"Oh, really?" he asked incredulously, eyeing the cigarette with disdain.

She grinned. "Once you sit and hear my story and realize I'm telling the truth, you're going to feel so guilty you won't even care about the car. Now sit down. I'd hate to see a classic get totaled because you're being stubborn again."

He glared at her, but came back to the table and sat down again.

Then reached over and snatched the cigarette from her lips, putting it out against the steel table top.

She just pulled out another, lighting it with one of her last matches. The irritation on his face made it worth the loss.

He waved a hand as if to say Get on with it.

She'd debated how to tell him this story for a long time. It was long, and messy and not particularly pleasant for her. But she wanted him to know the full thing, so she'd decided to start at the very beginning.

"My parents died when I was four," she began, ignoring his dramatic sigh. "I went into foster care, and as you can imagine, I was a particularly unruly child."

She smiled at the few memories she had. "I stole from the nuns, snuck out of my room at night and ran through the house, set all the clocks back an hour so we could sleep in. Small stuff. But it irritated them, because they couldn't prove it was me."

"Sounds familiar," he grouched, making her grin.

"I was adopted by Arobynn Hamel a year later."

As she'd predicted, his mouth fell open at that.

Arobynn was the known king of the underworld in Rifthold. He had a hand in every aspect of crime, yet no one could do anything about it because he never committed the crime himself.

His name was revered, so much so no one ever dared to cross him.

"But your record says-"

"That I stayed in foster care until I turned eighteen, I know."

Arobynn hated public records and had a deal with someone in the system that he'd take some of the kids off their hands if they kept quiet about it. Illegal as hell, but he wasn't someone you refused without suffering serious consequences.

It was the perfect crime. No one would miss unwanted kids, and it gave the system one less mouth to feed.

"I didn't know it, but he'd been watching me for a while. He... I don't know, saw something in me. Natural, innocent talent he could work with and turn into something different. He adopted me on my fifth birthday. And then he started training me."

"To do what?" Rowan asked, shoulders tensing.

"Everything," she answered with a shaky laugh, taking a long drag from her cigarette. "Stuff I wanted to learn, like how to pick a lock or walk without making sound. But as I got older, he taught me other stuff. Stuff I didn't want to know."

"How to kill," he finished, picking up on her tone.

She nodded, finishing her cigarette and flicking the butt on the floor.

"I was good," she told him quietly, looking down at the table. "By the time I was fifteen, he said I was the best he'd ever had. None of his other... children could beat me in a fight, not even the older ones who had a hundred pounds on me. And I could steal anything and not leave a trace."

His eyes didn't show an ounce of doubt, and she didn't know how to feel about it. But she kept going anyway.

"I was his favorite. I was his best asset, and I didn't care about anything that would compromise me. I lost my parents, and despite how much he wanted me to, I never loved him. I had no weaknesses. Except Sam."

"Another of his students?" Rowan asked, and it wasn't lost on her he said students instead of children.

She nodded. "We were adopted around the same time, grew up together. He was a year older, and whenever I had a problem, he was the one I'd turn to. He was good to me, and by the time I was seventeen, not a small part of me loved him."

Aelin broke off and took a deep breath, wishing she had another cigarette and trying to figure out how to put into words how much he'd meant to her.

"Was?" Rowan asked, so softly and quietly and understandingly that she was reminded of the man he'd once been, the one she'd loved.

Shaking her head to clear it, she said, "He made a mistake. He went on a job; he was supposed to break into one of the underground casino's owned by Arobynn's competitor and memorize the ledger, but he got caught. It was messy and horrible and stupid, and the owner wanted blood. Arobynn promised he'd kill Sam as retribution."

Rowan's eyes widened, almost like he hadn't realized how brutally she'd been raised until that moment.

"I begged him not to. Sam had saved me and helped me so many times that I couldn't not do the same for him. I told him I'd do anything."

She studied her hands, regret and guilt thick on her skin. "Arobynn said if I took ten of the jobs Sam was supposed to do, he wouldn't kill him. I thought they'd be similar to the one he'd messed up on, small break-ins or robberies. So I accepted."

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she batted it away as she continued, "The second I shook his hand, Tern--another of Arobynn's--shot Sam in the head."

Rowan's face blanched so quickly, she thought he might pass out.

He started to say something, but she spoke faster. "I... snapped. I killed Tern, tried to kill Arobynn. You called me a murderer, and that's true. I am, and I don't regret it. Tern was a sadistic bastard, and I'm glad he's dead. And one day, I'll kill Arobynn for what he did."

Rowan shook his head, confusion and shock and something similar to pity in his eyes. "Why didn't you leave, run away?"

She leveled a look at him. "I didn't exactly have a choice, Rowan. My punishment for Tern lasted for over a year."

There was a long pause.

"Punishment?" he asked in a breathless voice that made something in her chest hurt.

She looked at the table again, skin pebbling at the memory of that year. "He locked me in a cell in the basement, in the dark. Once a month he'd come in to ask if I knew someone named Sam. It took me ten months to get confused, another three to say no."

Still not meeting his eyes, she looked at his hands, noticing they were clenched so tightly the knuckles were white. And a part of her, buried under all the rage and resentment and sadness, warmed at the thought that he was... he was angry for her.

"It took me a long time after to figure out what was real and what wasn't. But Arobynn never let me forget our deal. And right before I met you, he told me the first job."

"What were the jobs?"

Aelin looked back up at that, the air thick between them as she said, "You already know."

"The murders."

She nodded, somehow managing to keep her spine straight despite the feeling of a hundred pound weight being lifted from her shoulders.

He at least knows why now, she thought to herself.

It was one of the things that had bothered her over the years. That he didn't know why she'd done what he thought she'd done. That he thought she'd.. wanted to do it.

He was silent for a long time, just watching her with a carefully emotionless face. "Thank you for telling me that," he said eventually. "I never could understand why."

Then he stood and walked to the door again, and it was only when his hand was on the handle she spoke again. "You asked why I'm doing this, and why I'm doing it now."

He opened the door but paused. Waited.

"It's because I tried to tell you this all those years ago, and you didn't care. You just assumed I was guilty because the evidence looked like it."

She spoke around the lump in her throat. "I told you I didn't kill those people, Rowan, and you didn't even care."

He spun around, slamming the door so hard it rattled, and in a split second, he was in front of her. A hand on the table, the other on her chair, he leaned down and got in her face.

He was so angry, so unbelievably enraged she couldn't believe it. He was angry?

"I didn't care? I didn't fucking care, that's what you think? Watching you get dragged away in cuffs was the worst moment of my life, and you think I didn't fucking care?"

Shock hit her like a bucket of ice water.

That moment was crystal clear in her mind, and she couldn't put what he was saying with what she knew.

He'd watched her with that same expressionless face, with cold eyes that had haunted her ever since.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he wasn't done.

"I fucked loved you! I thought you were the love of my life, Aelin. I begged you to tell me something that would help, tell me anything. But you didn't! You just kept saying you were innocent; you didn't give me anything to actually work with."

"I-"

"I found that stupid fucking list five days before I reported it, did you know that?"

She shook her head, because she hadn't.

"Exactly. You don't know what the hell you're talking about," he growled, eyes flashing. "I spent five days investigating it myself, trying to make sense of why you'd know those names. After your arrest, I spent two weeks trying to find anything, a single piece of evidence, that said it wasn't you. And after the trial, I spent another two months trying to poke holes in my own goddamn case."

He slammed a hand into the table. "I did everything I fucking could! I was desperate for it not to be you. I argued my case so your lawyer could plead circumstantial evidence. I put you on the stand so you could say anything you wanted. I went for life sentences instead of the death penalty to give you time to actually tell me what the hell was going on!"

She was breathing heavily, heart breaking and reforming over and over again at what he was saying, what he was implying.

"I didn't assume shit," he said in a low voice, so close they shared air. "You didn't tell me anything."

Aelin's voice trembled as she croaked, "I tried."

He shook his head, letting out a breath of amusement. "No, you didn't. If this past week has proven anything, it's that you don't try to do anything, you do it. You didn't tell me anything, Aelin. You're still not telling me anything."

"I'm telling you to look again! I'm telling you you didn't look hard enough, because I left breadcrumbs only you could find, breadcrumbs that explain everything."

"Stop playing games with me!" he shouted, eyes flashing with a fresh wave of anger. "It's been eight years! Stop holding onto whatever secret you're holding onto and just tell me!"

Gods, she wanted to.

He was the one person she couldn't trust with this secret, this stupid, most important secret, and yet he was the also the one person she wanted to tell it to.

She opened her mouth to tell him, but what came out was, "I didn't kill them, Rowan. I promise I didn't kill them. I can't... I can't tell you anything else."

"Jesus, Aelin," he spat, pushing off the table and turning to leave.

"Just look into it," she called after him, fingers digging into the table to resist the urge to try and follow him. "I promise you can figure everything out, and you'll understand everything. Please."

She knew why, after all this time, it was so important for him to know the truth when that hadn't been her original plan.

It was because she'd spent eight years believing he hadn't tried, believing she hadn't been a good enough person for him to even look into the possibility it wasn't her.

And maybe it was because he was once again leaving her, or maybe it was because she felt like she was in that courtroom again, begging him to believe her, or maybe it was because of something she didn't even understand yet.

Regardless of the reason, she found herself saying, "I loved you, too, you know."

He looked at her with sad eyes that she was sure mirrored her own and shook his head. "Not enough, apparently."

"You don't believe that," she argued, shaking her head and trying to keep the building emotions down.

"If you'd loved me, you would've told me. You would've given me the proof, whatever breadcrumbs you're talking about. You wouldn't have let me watch them take you away."

"Rowan-"

"You wouldn't have thought, for a second, that I didn't try to fight for you. And you sure as hell wouldn't have waited eight years to do whatever it is you're trying to do."

"I had to," she whispered, even as she knew it wouldn't be enough.

She shook with the effort to not tell him everything, but even after all he'd told her and how everything had changed, she just couldn't. Not yet.

He stood at the door, watching her with those eyes she'd once thought looked like the most beautiful emeralds. "Sometimes I think about it, you know. What life would be like if I hadn't tried to fix your sink in the middle of the night."

She smiled sadly. "Me too."

Rowan shook his head, gaze taking in her face like he thought he'd never see her again.

He thought it was over now, she realized. He thought that now she knew he hadn't given up on her immediately, now that she'd told him the story she'd wanted to tell him, that it was over and she'd give up.

"Look again," she whispered. "You know I didn't do it. It's why you're here, why you kept looking after the trial ended. You know I wouldn't."

"Goodbye, Aelin," he said instead, not telling her any of the things she really wanted to hear.

It wasn't until the door shut behind him she finally let herself cry.

She'd told herself that it didn't matter; that in a month the truth would come out and everything would be normal again.

She'd told herself she was only messing with Rowan for revenge, not because she wanted to see him again or test that he'd find the clues she'd left for him.

She'd told herself this was just a game.

She'd told herself all sorts of things that turned out to be lies.

~~~

Part 3

@audreycressworth @whimsicallyreading @onceupona-chaos @lil-unoriginal-weirdo-273sole @surielandiareendgame @captain-swan-is-endgame @poisonous00 @vasudharaghavan @sailorsassley @endlessdaydream @swankii-art-teacher @beanco8 @stokingthemidnightflame @mis-lil-red @ladyfireheart-and-buzzard @sheharahu @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @live-the-fangirl-life @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @gracie-rosee @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin #rowan #rowan whitehorn #aelin #rowan x aelin #throne of glass #throne of glass fandom #throne of glass fanfiction

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midnightsconspiracy · 3 years

Text

The Missing Piece

The Missing Piece - @midnightsconspiracy

Summary: Hank being jealous of your and Jay’s platonic relationship leads to a relationship of his own

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1801

Requested: Yes!!

‘I need some jealous hank pleeease 😩💖🙏🏻’

A/N: This is my least favourite thing I’ve written so far, I just feel like it doesn’t flow well but we move :)

I only have one request at the moment so send in as many as you like, trust me when I say this you are not ‘bothering’ or inconveniencing me at all, I love when people message me or send requests in. So don’t overthink it, just do it!!! :)

Masterlist

Your life always felt incomplete, like something was missing, but you could never put your finger on what the thing was. You had a modest apartment, a positive relationship with your family and a job with co-workers you absolutely adored. So what left did you have yet to find? Every having romantic relationships in the past left you feeling that way still, a void that could only be filled by a specific something, without knowing what it was. It was infuriating, finally feeling happy with your life but still, there was a piece of you missing, a bit that felt empty. But maybe you would find that something was nearer than you thought, and maybe that something was a someone.

The day started off as normal, getting up, making breakfast then heading out to start the day at your job in intelligence. Pulling into the car park you noticed Jay beside you, sitting In his car, reading something on his phone. Looking up as you got out of your car, he smiled, proceeding to also get out of his vehicle, greeting you just like he did each day. You walked into the district together and to the upstairs intelligence unit, talking about some recent gossip while having the same playful conversation, laughing with huge smiles on your faces. Once you had reached the unit’s floor, you both headed to the coffee machine, needing your caffeine fix before you started. Noticing that others already seemed to be deep in work, you closed the door behind you, hoping to keep as much noise in as possible. Drinking your coffee, you continued talking to Jay, putting off work for as long as possible and wanting to know anything new that could get from the man. Any time you conversed with him, it always had an unconsciously flirty undertone, not because you liked him that way, but because it was in both of your natures, not being able to turn it off specifically for each other. After a while, you still hadn't noticed that the coffee had been drunk already, the time having flown by, neither of you realising you should have started working ten minutes ago.

Unaware to you, Voight was in his office, working on some files from a case that had been passed down to him from people higher up, stress levels increasing with each sentence he read. The sound of yours and Jay’s conversation breached the walls, seeping into his office, making him angrier than he already was. ‘Why did you have to flirt with Jay all the time, was he not good enough for you?’ He thought to himself, the attraction he had for you clouding his mind. Clenching his jaw, he went back to reading his document, knowing when he thought about you too much it bought out his emotions, and that’s not what he needed right now. But he couldn’t help it when he heard your laugh, knowing it wasn’t caused by him, but instead Jay. That man was a damn good detective but also a bloody good flirt, and in Hank’s eyes that made him a threat. He wanted you badly, having liked you since you’d first joined the unit, although Jay was not the only thing in the way. The biggest problem was himself. He was so insecure, thinking that if he did eventually have the courage to ask you out, you would say no. It was just you were so much younger than him, and much better looking and just all these other things that made him think you were better suited to someone like Jay. However, that still didn’t stop him from getting angry when Jay was buttering you up. Suddenly, he stood up, not being able to stand hearing you and Jay in the room next door anymore. Swinging the break room door open, he stood in the doorway, a stern expression on his face. As soon as the door had open, you and Jay had turned towards the intrusion. Noticing it was just Voight, you both relaxed, thinking he was going to idly chat with two of his favourite detectives.

“Hey Sarg, there is some coffee leftover if you want some,” Jay started, not thinking anything of Hank’s expression, considering he usually had a scowl on. This set the flames alight as the detective completely overlooked the anger he held in his eyes.

“Both of you should be working by now! You’re ten minutes late to start and I don’t appreciate you spending that time In here having fun and joking when you both know damn well there is a case you could be helping to solve,” he shouted, not only startling you and Jay, but also your fellow detections who had looked up from where they were working away quietly.

“Sorry Voight, guess we didn’t realise that time had gone past so fast,” Jay tried to rationalise, not understanding why Voight was getting so aggravated for something that would usually just result in a slap on the wrist.

“Get to work, both of you. Plus you both know the rules about in house dating, so sort out whatever this is out immediately.” And before either of you could tell him otherwise, he had stomped back to his office, slamming the door shut in the process. Looking at Jay, you gave him a confused look, trying to figure out why your boss had come up with these conclusions as you returned to your desk.

Throughout the day, you noticed multiple strange things happening. Firstly, Jay refused to look at you at all, looking at the wall or ground anytime you would address the room or would look away as quickly as possible if you accidentally made eye contact. It was abnormal, to say the least, considering you at Jay were usually tied at the hip, spending a lot of time together, both inside and outside of work. It had started even before Voight had split you up and assigned everyone in the unit new partners. Maybe you had subconsciously annoyed him? That you didn’t know but you tried your best throughout the day to get him to even acknowledge you, but each time failing completely. The second strange thing was the looks you were getting from both Hank and Alvin as well as the looks they were giving each other. Anytime you would look up from your work, you would spot one of them staring intently at you, then quickly retreating to look at each other. The ones from Olinsky seemed to be those of intrigue as if they were trying to gauge your reaction. But the ones from Voight seemed different. How it was different you couldn’t really pinpoint, but it seemed to be more out of fondness and concern, but you couldn’t really be sure, barely seeing it before he looked away. God, what was it with all these men today? One not wanting to look at you at all, the others wanting to look at you all the time it seemed. Eventually, you and your new partner Olinsky were sent out to talk to some woman. Wanting to know if she was aware of the illegal activity her boyfriend was running. After receiving some useful information, you both got back in the car, settling in for the short car ride ahead. A couple of minutes into the drive you turned to him, adamant about getting answers on why these men had been unnecessarily watching you all day.

“Why do you and Voight keep looking at me?” You ask abruptly, wanting to catch him off guard so he would answer your damn question.

“You should speak to Voight in his office after shift.” He replied, the car falling back into silence for the rest of the journey.

The statement played on your mind for the rest of the day, but finally, you would get some answers as the shift came to a close. Waiting for everyone else to leave, you wrote your statement longhand, knowing it would eat more time up. As the last person left the room, you got up, walking into your boss' office, closing the door behind you. He looked at you as you entered, holding an undistinguishable expression on his face, despite the nervous disposition he held inside.

"Detective Y/LN, what can I do for you," he asked, looking down at his papers as if he didn't care, although his brain was screaming at him to do something!

"You keep looking at me." You bluntly stated, wanting to pull him out of his comfort zone and get the answers Olinsky wouldn't give you.

"You are my agent arent you? Therefore I am entitled to look at you." Gazing up at you, he stared into your pretty eyes, resisting the urge to just get up and kiss you.

"B-but, this is different. You keep glancing at me as if you have some sort of adoration for me," thinking he was going to look up and find a disgusted expression, he was surprised as he found nothing but a small smile upon your face.

"Maybe I do, but that doesn't matter though does it? Considering you are seeing Detective Halstead." Confusion, once again fell on your features, still not understanding why he thought this madness, you are Jay were merely just friends.

"Me and Jay? We're just- Wait what did you say? Y-you, feel for me?" The confused look on your face deepened, never thinking this would happen. You weren't unhappy by any means, thinking very fondly of the handsome Sergeant, but he was your boss so why would he go for someone like you when he could have Burgess or even Platt! Rounding his desk, he walked towards you, stopping at a comfortable distance, not too far, not too close.

"Do you deem that as a bad thing?" Stumbling on your words, you managed to mutter a 'no', as you looked back into his eyes, finding a warmness there that started filling that void inside you. Not thinking, you flung your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, placing your head in the crook of his neck as you inhaled his scent. Maybe he was that missing piece?

"Jay and I are just friends and will always just be friends Hank," you told him, removing an arm from his neck to softly stroke his cheek. He gradually tightened his arms around your waist as you reassured him of the matter.

"So you would mind me doing this?" He asked, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, full of passion, portraying all the things he'd ever want to say to you.

Just as his wish had come true, yours had too, as that missing piece of you started to make its way back to you.

#chicago pd #chicago pd imagines #chicago pd x reader #one chicago #hank voight x reader #hank voight #hank voight imagines

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mochii0park · 3 years

Text

metanoia; 01 | kth

Title: Metanoia

Pairing: Taehyung / Reader

Part of series: Waterlilies and Japanese Bridge

Genre: angst I collage!au

Pairing: student!reader x photographer!taeyhung

Word count: 4,7k

Summary: Vante, a household name among photographers became known for his minimalistic photography style that came along with his secret persona. Never showing his face on his own exhibitions fueled the public’s desire to learn more about him which skyrocketed his fame. While preparing for his next exhibition Vante went missing. Disappeared into thin air and even now a year later was never found.

Author’s note: I am very conscious of any grammar mistakes. Although I have read this chapter three times I am sure I’ve missed some so bare with me.

On another note, I have switched the dates of the chapters for Saudade and Metanoia. Since this story got more attention compared to Sauade I’ve decided to write it before the date.

This is my first attempt at writing on this platform and I hope it will reach out to a wider range of readers and catch your interest. Any feedback is greatly appreciated.

Taglist: @ggukkieland @honig-und-millch , @deliciousdetectivestranger ,

Masterlist

Metanoia masterlist

< intro | next chapter >

You sink into the overaged draggled yellow chair, catching second-hand embarrassment at the sight before you. The boy walked about, his thrusts were not enough to keep the neon hula hoop from falling. He attempts to fumble his way out of the mess, but it was too late. The left ankle twists itself and before you know it, he hits headfirst against the wooden flooring. The professors rush towards him, medics following behind. The boy tries to pull himself up but fails his body slumping against the stage. To your left Mingi snorts, stuffing his face with popcorn amused by the scene playing out.

“I don’t mean to sound rude or whatever, but people need to search up the meaning of talent before their eyes skip to the word show.” Minnie ruckles her nose, her mouth loop sided.

“I find this highly entertaining,” Mingi speaks up, mouth full of food. He takes a sip of the cold beverage rested in his lap and shakes the mixture before swallowing.

To his left Yeonjun shudders at him, “Talent or not I would rather replay that scene than watch Mingi be a slob. It makes me want to bleach my eyes out.”

Mingi rolls his eyes ignoring Yeonjun as he pops more popcorn, oblivious to his own weird antics. Although the four of you are friends for years, Mingi managed to take you all by surprise with his uncanny behaviour.

The second act starts and suddenly you contemplate your university choice. Reasonably the overbearing staff of your university wanted the timid first years to feel welcomed hence this so-called show. In hindsight, you think a friendly party would’ve been just as good.

Halfway through the act, you feel a light tap on your shoulders, professor Kim Namjoon stands there like a sore thumb in the mass of students’ bodies. With his hovering height, freshly dyed purple hair and the rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose he was sure to stand out. He shifts his footing from one to the other foot anxiously waiting for you to follow him, few students commenting on the disruptions that his appearance caused.

You observe him for a second, accompanying him out of the theatre into the cold November air. He fumbles through his leather briefcase before fishing out a small, crumpled flyer. Opening it he shoves it into your hands while tweaking his glasses.

“I have a favour to ask you Y/N. There will be a course taking place here and I would love for you to attend it with your peculiar friends.” He says emphasising the word peculiar.

You knew that Mingi gave Namjoon the creeps even though the latter denied it.

“No.”

You push back the flyer spinning on the balls of your feet ready to join your friends.

“Y/L-…”, Namjoon groans, “Do it for your brother-in-law.”

Widening your eyes, you look at him shaking your head.” This isn’t the time to use our family relations to bribe me into a stupid course.”

“Did you even read what’s it about?”, you take the flyer from his hands skimming through it.

Photography course

Length: 10th November till 10th June

Time: Friday, 6pm -8pm

Attendance: Third years and above

Equipment not needed for the course

Your eyes pause at the date, laughing releasing itself from your chest. Surely Namjoon was kidding when suggesting this. You were in your last year which meant you would soon be flooded with work for your final project. In conclusion, there was barely enough time for you set foot out of your studies let alone attend another one of the university’s poor attempts to make a course for students to bond over.

“You understand I’m in my last year. I don’t have time to go out and have fun with my friends. How in the world did you think I would fit a whole-ass course?”

Namjoon releases a breath running a hand through his thick hair, desperation evident on his face.” I am sorry to have to do this, but I am cashing in my favour.”

You become stiff mouth agape, incoherent vowels coming out of you. It takes you a few seconds to gather your thoughts, “you promised to not cash it in. You gave me your word.”

“And you gave me yours.” Namjoon retored sassily, finger pointing at you, “I won’t tell Sunmi if you promise to do me a favour when the time comes.”

Pushing your tongue against the palate, you try to control the boiling anger.

The incident happened four years ago, back when you were still figuring out your college life. Namjoon and you were acquaintances, sharing one elective course called German Literature. Needless to say, both of you suffered greatly.

By the end of the year, you noticed your sister piqued Namjoon’s interest. Grossed out by the idea of your older sister engaging in any kind of relationship/activity with a twenty-three-year-old, you kept your distance until the faithful day.

Choi San was the synonym for the devil himself. With his fiery red hair and dazzling cat-like eyes, he lured you into his messy life of illegal parties and binge drinking. You still find yourself cringing at his pathetic excuses of professing his undying love to you when it was all under false pretences. His eyes bearing into your naïve soul, pulling your heart out and wrenching it until your friends came to pick up the pieces.

Sitting in the police station you counted down minutes before your older sister would burst through the door and finally decide to disown you. With your head nested between your knees you suck in the tears threatening to spill, the euphoria from the alcohol long gone. You’ve dialled Mingi’s number first, the others were a no go when it came to answering their phones. He picked up in a matter of seconds. After explaining the situation, you figured he would bring his own parents to bail you out instead Namjoon comes first, after him a stressed Minnie trying to keep up the pace with him and a Yeonjun who’s pulling his masks further over his nose in a lame attempt to be unrecognizable. Mingi idly meanders behind them in his pyjamas with not one care in the world. Namjoon pulls a small amount of money handing the police officer and not long after you were free.

At that moment you’ve truly recognized your friends as the people you wanted to keep in your life forever. Namjoon jokingly said he would someday cash in his favour. Little did you know the joke would get over your head.

“You’ve waited for four years to cash it?”

He shrugs and nods lightly. Quickly he composes himself, washing his features of playfulness and switching them up with hopelessness. “It’s really important for me that you and your clique of friends attend this course. Professor Seojoon organized it-“

At the mention of your favourite professor, your eyes light up making Namjoon shudders. The little “crush” you harboured didn’t go unnoticed by him. Putting his hands on your shoulders he gains your attention again before continuing, “his brother is the one to hold the course so you must come. I will put in a good word for you all. Maybe he will go easy on you during quizzes.”

You roll your eyes knowing fully well that you didn’t need Namjoon’s intervention although it was greatly appreciated. Putting the flyer in your back pocket you throw a thumbs up to Namjoon, “Well Minnie and I don’t need any favouritism and I am almost certain you can’t do much for Yeonjun and Mingi seeing as they are in different departments.”

“Oh?” Namjoon’s brows shot up at the revelation, totally dismissing the idea that you know each other any differently than through the classes you attend, “I thought Yeonjun was in the literature department, as for Mingi it’s far-fetched but I didn’t want to sound rude.”

“Actually, Yeonjun is in the Vocal department while Mingi is in the Physics and Astronomy department. He’s also on top of his class, both are.”

Namjoon seems stunned at the information you threw at him, but he recovers swiftly, “Bunch of nerds.” He chuckles at his own jokes before both of you bid goodbyes. You slowly make your way to the cafeteria mind set on pursuing your friends to join you and Namjoon running to the staff meeting hoping to extinguish the chaos caused by the talent show.

Pushing past the mass of people on the campus your sneakers squeak against the pavement, the chatter between the students becoming louder as you push the cafeteria doors. Making your way towards the table in the further left corner you spot Yeonjun’s eye-catching hair. The pink shade fits well against his pale skin making him noticeable from afar. The boy throws a piece of chips at Mingi, the latter catching it mid-air.

The rustling of your chair brings them out of their bubble. Minnie plops her elbows on the table, hand supporting her cheek as she lays it there, eyes staring at you amusingly. Mingi continues to catch Yeonjun’s chips, his attention now slightly focused on you. “How was the talk with professor Namjoon.”

“I need a favour to ask you.”

“Last time you asked for a favour we had to bail you from jail,” Mingi adds face void of any emotion causing Yeonjun to almost choke on the piece of chicken from his plate. Minnie reaches for his head hitting him hard on the back.

“That was four years ago for God’s sake.” You yell, a few students turning bothered by your loud voice disrupting their meal.

Slumping further into the seat, cheeks reddened from the heat of the sudden attention you gained you say quietly, “there is a course taking place this year and I would love if you could attend it.”

Mingi was the first to read the flyer once you push it in the middle of the old table. He hums a couple of times and gives you a thumbs up, unlike Minnie who scoffs.

“A whole semester? Y/N you know this is impossible to juggle this with our final project. As much as I would love to participate you know what you’re asking for is too much.”

You bite your lower lip remembering Namjoon’s words. “I know but professor Seojoon is organizing it, and don’t you think having him on our good side would mean a lot?”

Minnie shrugs and pops the strawberry into her mouth. “I understand, but it’s on Fridays. The only time I can spare for parties and clubs, and you’re asking me to spend it studying something I am not even remotely interested in?”

You turn towards Yeonjun knowing if he agrees Minnie will crumble under the pressure of your group. He scans it quickly and shakes his lightly head from left to right before agreeing to accompany you making Minnie collapse her shoulders in defeat.

“Fine but if it takes too much of my time I am signing out.”

“I love you guys so much.”

“Cut it with the sappy shit, I have piano lessons.” Yeonjun gets up telling you goodbye before he disappears in the ocean of students his pink hair no longer visible. A distant scream could be heard a few seconds after, “I love you too.”

You smile feeling the love of your friends.

“We love you too.” Mingi gets up and places a carton of freshly squeezed apple juice in front of you sending off a small smile. Just like Yeonjun, he’s gone.

Nose buried deep into the book; Taehyung tried his best to mute out his brother’s lame attempts of starting a conversation he never intended to finish. Legs resting on the polished marble table he did his very best to further fuel Seojoon’s irritation. The older one pacing back and forwards provoking Taehyung’s headache.

“If you would just listen to me.”

Kim Taehyung detested surprise, especially those he didn’t catch on early. This one though topped the cake. “There is no need to listen.”

“Quit being stubborn.”

“Oh, the irony.” Taehyung looked up catching his brother’s burning gaze,” contrary to your beliefs, I must say you are the one who’s stubborn here. When a person asks for space and time you give them that instead of forcing them, wait sorry what was the word again? Yeah, lightly pushing them into holding a course. One which they never asked for or showed the desire to hold.”

“You needed a little push in the right direction.”

“Arranging a one-year course isn’t a push you idiot,” Taehyung shouted; the book was long forgotten and tossed aside on his couch. His yell echoed in the empty room causing Seojoon’s to scowl. He found comfort in a small armchair adjacent to the marble table. “You can’t bury yourself in books and spend your days in the atelier. It’s not healthy Taehyung.”

“I don’t remember asking for advice.”

Seojoon was on the verge of giving up, letting the course get cancelled before it even happened hadn’t it been for the twelve people that signed up and Namjoon’s effort to recruit them.

“Look-“he takes a deep breath calming himself, “You can think of it as a one year course, but in reality, it’s eight months. When you count Christmas, New Year, Easter you can cut one month coming to seven months in total. I’ve gone all out for this course, please don’t make me go and explain to my higher-ups why it’s cancelled before it even started.”

Taehyung shut his eyes trying not to feed the growing frustration inside him. Seojoon takes the time to look at his brother, the embodiment of pain. The eyes that used to shine brightly at the sight of new opportunities were now dull and empty, almost as if his soul left the body. It tore him apart to see Taehyung like that, powerless and what added more to his pain was the inability to help him.

“It’s been a year since I’ve held a class.”

“I know you Taehyung. You are a man of many talents and there is nothing that can convince me otherwise. You need to move forward and face the fear you’ve been holding onto. It’s been a year. Nobody will judge you.” Seojoon’s eyes soften as he walks up to his brother ruffling his hair, hoping that his sincerity got through to him.

“I don’t know Joon.”

Before Seojoon could even start talking Taehyung shakes his head and moves hurriedly reaching for the knob. Seojoon takes a step towards Taehyung, but he doesn’t even give him a chance to speak as he runs right out of the door leaving him alone in the atelier.

The water drips from Taehyung’s wet hair down his face creating a false comfort, the sound of water coated a perfect cover to hide his emotional baggage. It became a habit of his to seek solace in the bathtub surrounded by lavender soaps that Yuna bought. A tradition carried on from their mother to them. The scent took Taehyung back into his childhood spent in his family home in Busan. Carefree of responsibilities and the heavy burden the world carried.

He recalls the delicate touch of his mother’s fingers untangling his locks while singing Elvis’s song can’t help falling in love. Her voice heartening Taehyung as he wept over a dispute he had with his second brother Hyungsik. The vivid memory of his mother placing a kiss on the crown of his head before wiping away the tears from his cheeks.

“Siblings are there to teach you about life,” she whispers softly, “They teach you what it means to be kind, to be fair and to know you will not always be right. They teach you about teamwork, conflict resolution and most importantly Tae they teach you what it is to love and to be loved.”

Opening the door of Seojoon’s study, Taehyung is greeted with a sight to behold. Leaning against the door frame he watches Yuna and Hyungsik dancing in the middle of the muddled room, furniture pushed aside to create more room. They attempted to follow Yuna’s new choreography, Seojoon’s seated in the leather armchair grading assignments although he would glance up occasionally laughing at the duo. More like laugh at Hyungsik’s failed attempts but he didn’t need to know that. Noticing Taehyung’s presence, Yuna runs over linking their arms and pulls him forward oblivious to the slight tension between him and Seojoon.

“Idol my ass, “she scoffs at a gasping Hyungsik, “Taehyungie I need a dance partner for my new choreography. Hyungsik can’t even learn the basics.”

“Not my fault the younger generation goes overboard with their dances and outfits and singing. In my time we relied on our charms, and not how you call it? Fairy ending? What is even that?”

“It’s when idols finish the song, and the camera pans on of them giving them some more love and screen time. Right?” Taehyung looks at Yuna for approval. She places Taehyung’s hand over her shoulder, linking her arms around his waist while he kisses her temple and puts his cheek on top of her head.

“Admit it you’ve gotten old Hyungsik.” Seojoon derides.

That was enough to motivate Hyungsik to crack his fingers and reach for the tablet, “Give me the goddamn tablet. I’ll show you who’s old.” burying his nose into the gadget, he replays the video repeatedly.

By the time he made it through the first segment of the dance, Taehyung was sure he could blindly replicate the choreography himself.

“Couldn’t you ask one of your professors or other idols in training to help you?” Taehyung asks as the two observe Hyungsik’s rusty moves.

“One friend is busy finishing school projects and Jungkook-a has too many events lined up to help. I haven’t seen him since last Friday and I don’t feel comfortable asking Jimin-ssi to practice with me.”

“Isn’t he your professor?”

“Yes and no. He helps the idols which have already debuted in our entertainment company, that’s Jungkook. Jimin-ssi does occasionally step in when other professors are prevented from teaching. But his job is being a full-time professor at the EQ Royal Dance Academy.”

Taehyung nods, the information flying over his head as Hyungsik messes up a move and topples to the floor. He erupts into fits of laugher for the first time in weeks and Seojoon is suddenly reminded what’s it like to be happy. He knew bringing Yuna home for the weekend would do Taehyung some good. The sight warms his heart, his siblings bickering loudly, breathing some life into the old room. Resting the assignments on the nearby table, he sits up to join them. Catching Taehyung’s gaze he looks towards the boy, brows raised.

“I’ve thought about it and-” Taehyung stops for a second, but Seojoon’s soft gaze prompts him to continue. “I’ll take the job.”

“Well, you better get ready because it starts in two hours.”

“What?!”

There were many ways you could spend your Friday night, like partying for instance yet here you are sitting in your car listening to Minnie whining. Mingi’s soul stuck somewhere on his iPod the second he set foot in the car, his head bobbing to the music blasting from his AirPods. Yeonjon was the only one not present. Due to his idol actives, he was held back by his vocal coach, but he promised to be there for the second lecture.

Placing your analogue camera on the desk, you tug your hair into a ponytail mentally preparing yourself for two hours of dullness. Minnie sits to your right while Mingi takes the chair to your left. The three of you seating yourselves in the front of the classroom, Namjoon’s words bunch of nerds playing in your head.

Shaking the thought away you see the watch tick eight pm as the door swings open.

When Namjoon told you professor Seojoon’s brother would hold the course you had expected a man either older than him or somewhere around his age, not a handsome make you take a double look type of a man; two or three years older than you.

His features were nothing short of a Greek god. He stood head and shoulders over you even when you were seated, confidence radiating from every fibre of his being as adjusts his bag over his shoulder. Pushing his brown curls away from his face he allows you to look at it. Perhaps you were exaggerating but you never saw such a gorgeous man. Straightening himself up you take notice of his attire for tonight’s lecture. An orange blazer draped over a white shirt brought out his sun-kissed complexion paired with the same-coloured trousers. A type of anonymity laced itself with every step he took in your direction, his stare a mixture of coldness and determination.

He comes forward, eyes scanning each one of you before he sets his gaze on you. It lingers there for a second, his expression unreadable before he breaks it.

“Hello, my name is Kim Taehyung and I’ll be your lecturer for this course.”

For the first time, you see Mingi’s focus entirely on Taehyung. His presence demanded to be felt and a part of you was sure he knew it. Taking the camera in his hand he turns towards you.

“I assume you have at least once taken a photo, whether with your phones or camera. Moreover, I am positive you have attempted to make an aesthetic photo for your Instagram feed. How many of you were successful?” laughter filled the lecture hall,” The goal of this lecture isn’t to make a photographer out of you nor to help you improve your skills. The point is to make you fall in love with photography. The rest will come easy.”

He walks around the desk and opens an old leather binder. Walking towards your table he places it in front of Mingi allowing the three of you to peek at the content of it. There neatly stored in a plastic sheet were his photos. Mingi pushes the portfolio in front of you, allowing easier access to both Minnie and you. Slowly leafing through the pictures, you stop in total awe. Eyes trailing over a simple photo of a ray field, caught somewhere in later November or early December judging by the snow. The contrast was striking, the clash of the colours and the depth of field creating an imaginary line between the ray and the sky.

Taehyung observes your dumbfounded expression, intrigued by your sudden amazement he ambles to your side. He rakes over the photo, which was a thereby sheer mistake, panic rushing through him. In a reckless attempt to stop you from further prying into the photos he grasps the portfolio out of your hold knocking over your camera in the process. It hits the floor shattering the lens into pieces, the film rolling down until it stops near his feet. Cursing himself for his abrupt action, he looks at you. Your eyes drift from the broken camera to Taehyung’s face.

He hurriedly squats picking the pieces, analysing the damage. Beyond repair.

“I am so sorry. I-” he says placing the parts on your table trying to come up with more words of apology.

“It’s alright.” You shuffle awkwardly in your seat not liking the spotlight put on you.

“I’ll be sure to repay you the coasts of a new camera.”

You shake your head; the camera was already outdated, and you were sure Sunmi would let you borrow her digital one from the gallery. “It’s fine.”

Taehyung puts his lips into a thin line, the confidence he marched beginning to leave his body. Although you showed no anger or resentment towards him, he still felt the need to apologize. Swallowing the awkward moment, he paces towards the centre.

“Today we will start with simple terms such as ISO, Aperture and Shutter speed. Three things you should get familiar with.”

Fetching his Nikon camera from the case he turns it around. Swirling the button on the upper part of the camera he adjusts the mode to manual. Pushing another button towards himself the camera shows three circles in the middle of the screen.

“The first circle is shutter speed. That’s the speed at which the light of a camera sensor is exposed to light when taking a photo. Slow shutter speed captures the blur of subjects in motion. It’s valuable for night and landscape photography. On the other hand, high speed allows you to freeze a single millisecond in time.”

Pointing to the middle circle he continues. “This is an aperture, the opening through which light passes through the lens to enter the camera. Its size can be modified to control how much light reaches the sensor.”

Lastly, he shows you the third button. “ISO represents the sensor’s sensitivity to the light. The higher the number, the more information will be captured in other words the picture will be brighter.”

Taehyung fumbles with the camera for a few seconds before he focuses it on you and with a click and shutter of light, he takes your photo. With no time to recover you feel a blush creep at the thought of how the picture turned out. “As you can see this is the perfect setting for the indoor portrait. Now if we put the shutter speed high and the ISO low-“

He again takes a picture of you turning the camera screen to the students. The photo was dark, your features barely visible but still your figure could be distinguished. “This is an underexposed photo. Now if we set the shutter speed to let’s say 1/40 and places the ISO high-“

Expecting his move this time, you look up at the camera. Taehyung halts his action for a slight second before he presses the button. Looking at the photo, the brightness is overbearing. “This is an overexposed photo.”

He places the camera in front of Mingi, Minnie and you allowing you to take your time and compare the three photos he took. “Why am I showing you this? Because for your next assignment that’s what you will do. You will take three photos of the same object. The object you choose should be something that left a great impact on you. That can be your family, your friends or an inanimate object such as phones, books etc. The choice is yours.”

Pulling out stacks of paper he leaves them on the corner of his desk.” These here are today’s study notes. I don’t expect you to write down notes while in the class, but I do expect you to finish your assignments. That will be all for today.”

The students began leaving the room each taking one paper, Taehyung stood there, hands in his pocket looking through every pupil that passed by. Minnie was first in line, her flirt mode on. You see them exchange a few words, Minnie’s behaviour suddenly going from sweet to sour in seconds. You dally your way to the desk aware of his gaze burning holes in the side of your head.

“Sorry, Y/N was it?” You peek up not expecting him to spare you a second let alone address you.

“Yeah?”

Taehyung scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.” I am sorry for what happened to your camera. I know you said it’s fine, but I feel responsible for it. I would feel better if you let me repay you by buying a new camera or at least participating in the coasts.”

“No, really it’s fine.” You laugh as you say it for the fourth time today.” I will borrow my sister’s camera for the course. If I do find myself in a need to buy a new camera, I will let you know.”

Before Taeyhung could protest you nod politely and leave the room. Biting his lip, he couldn’t help to feel bad about the wreck he made knowing full well how much an analogue camera costs nowadays. Taking the Nikon one from your table he swipes through the photos deleting each one before he pauses on the last one. It was the first black and white photo he took of you.

Your eyes were focused on Taehyung, although taken aback by the light they held their composure your mouth pulled into an affiliative smile. The white light made your baby hair stand out in the black background. For an unexplained reason, Taehyung felt a small tug, one he couldn’t pinpoint the meaning of. Shutting off his camera, he exhales through his nose and throws the bag over his shoulder.

The first lecture was done, thirty-three to go.

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smells-like-mettaton · 3 years

Note

soriel, 1 (chocolate) for the ask game?

Like a Box of Chocolates

Rating: G Word Count: 2734 Read on AO3: here

---

"Ok. I brought a few choices," Sans said while sitting with his back to the door. He pulled a plastic sack full of chocolate and chocolate-adjacent treats out from under his shirt.

"Oh, you did not have to do that." The voice behind the door sounded embarrassed.

"It's no big deal." He shrugged instinctively, though she wouldn't be able to see it. "Not like I candy things like this for you very often."

The lady laughed, even though the pun was a stretch. She was a great audience like that.

"I cannot argue with that. After all, it is the choco-thought that counts."

Sans let out a wheeze. Man, she had him beat in the bad jokes department. He needed to up his game.

"What can I say, I'm a sweet guy." That joke would work better if she could see his wink.

"You certainly are, my friend."

Sans blinked. He hadn't been prepared for the genuine warmth in her voice. Now he felt something like a melted chocolate himself.

"Uh. You'd better wait and make sure I didn't pick out garbage before you say that." He chuckled nervously and spread out the chocolates in the snow.

"Alright. Hit me with your best choco-shot."

He laughed out loud at that one too. She could really squeeze some mileage out of chocolate puns.

"First off we have the MTT-Brand Chocolate Mettaton. Which is exactly what it sounds like. Chocolate in the shape of everyone's favorite robot superstar." He scanned the back of the wrapper. "Contains sequins and glitter, but it's still monster food, so probably won't cause any more indigestion than Temmie Flakes. Still, wouldn't blame ya if you passed on that."

The lady laughed. "I do not know this 'Mettaton,' but he sounds like someone…"

Her voice trailed off, the way it always did when she neared a personal topic. It seemed to be happening more and more often lately. Sans didn't know if that was a good sign, or if he needed to do a better job of distracting her.

"Someone I know would have liked that," she finished clumsily.

"Welp. It's yours, then." He attempted to slide it under the door.

Attempted. The thick block of chocolate wouldn't fit through the narrow space.

"What are my other options?" The lady asked, not seeming to hear his failure.

(Or just ignoring it. The way they always ignored things they didn't want to acknowledge.)

Oh well. He'd deal with that later, if she wanted to.

He picked up the next box and rattled it. It looked thin enough to fit under the door.

"I think this one's called, uh, pocket?” He couldn’t tell for sure, since the box was labeled in a language he didn’t recognize. Where did Alphys get this stuff? “A pal gave it to me. They’re like chocolate-covered sticks, I think."

"Not precisely what I was looking for, but I would love to try it regardless," she said. "If I am allowed to have both options, I mean. If not, I should probably stick with the Em-Tee-Tee."

Sans bit back a snort. So she hadn't heard after all. That made this a lot more awkward.

"Do you wanna hear the other options first? Wouldn't want ya to have any regrets."

"Oh! There are more?"

She sounded as surprised as a kid finding an extra fry in the bottom of their Grillby's bag. He couldn't help grinning.

"Yup. Next up is a chocolate spider donut—”

“Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders?” The voice seemed on the verge of laughter again.

His eyesockets widened. “Uh… welp. Guess you don’t need the whole spiel, huh?”

“There is a spider bakesale right around the corner from my home,” the lady explained. “I believe they are saving for a… ‘heated limo’? To travel safely through Snowdin. I wish I could help them, but I did not think to take much gold when I…”

Another dead end. That was fine, Sans could piece together enough. Not that her personal life was any of his business, anyway.

“If it makes ya feel any better, they really raked me over the coals for this one.”

“It does not!” came her quick reply. “I only asked for a chocolate bar. Not for you to spend money that you need on me.”

Geez, this lady was too good for him. As if Sans ever really went out of his way for anyone.

Except Papyrus, but he was family. And sometimes Grillby, if he felt bad about failing to pay his tab for too long. And Alphys, but he owed her for screwing off after space-time blew up in their faces.

And now, the lady behind the door. The lady he didn’t owe anything to, except a few good laughs.

Who was he kidding? Those laughs were more important to him than anything.

“Eh, it just cost me one day of selling ‘dogs. Donut worry about it.”

“Very well. Since it was for a good cause, I will not grill you any further. But please tell me that was the last chocolate you purchased for me.”

“It’s the last one I purchased.” He grinned. While she couldn’t see his expression, she must have heard the but in his voice.

“Please tell me you did not steal any chocolate for me.”

“Geez, lady, what do you take me for? I’d never commit petty thievery.”

“Well, that is reassuring.”

“Yep. Gotta save room for the real high-dollar crimes. Like the illegal hot dog stand.”

The voice behind the door went silent. He wished he could see her face now more than ever. His own grin slowly slid from his skull.

“Everyone knows about it,” he reassured her. “If the King really wanted to shut me down, he’d have done it a long time ago.”

“Oh, I am not judging you for that. I am sure the law is rigged against you if the King has any say in it.” Her voice was surprisingly bitter.

His real problem was that he couldn’t ever find the necessary documents to get licensed in food preparation. His birth certificate was presumably in whatever alternate dimension his old man had blasted them out of.

“You are judging me for something, though,” he realized. The chill of the snow seeped into his bones, but he didn’t dare adjust his position. Somehow he felt that if he moved, she would disappear.

“I am not. I was only thinking about…” She sighed. “It is complicated. There was a time when I could have helped you, but it is long past.”

“Help me? Look, lady, the ‘dog stand is fine. Promise. Better than fine, since I don’t gotta pay taxes on it.”

She chuckled at that.

“Very well. Forgive a silly old lady for worrying.”

“Done.” He smiled, settling back against the door more comfortably.

He should’ve known she’d have a problem with his illegal activities, though. She was a classy lady, and he was… him. Why had he even brought it up? It wasn’t a great joke. Did he really just want her to know?

Eh, whatever. She wasn’t mad, so no harm done, right?

“I would like to know how you acquired this other chocolate, if it was not through your sticky fingers.” She sounded like she was grinning.

“Huh? Oh.” He blinked and dug out the last chocolate of the bunch. Blue dusted his cheeks. “QC—that’s the lady who runs the shop in town—gave ‘em to me for free. They’re called, uh, kisses.”

QC had a knowing look in her eyes when she’d offered the bag of chocolates to him. It was his own fault for implying they were for a girl. Everyone already thought he screwed around in the woods on his shifts, and with the way gossip travelled in a small town, everyone at Grillby’s would be asking about his girlfriend tonight.

“Kisses,” the lady behind the door echoed. “This is not one of your jokes, is it?”

“Not this time. Sorry to disappoint.” His grin felt too tight. “They’re, uh, tiny chocolates. Kinda cone-shaped? QC makes ‘em herself, so they’ve gotta be good.”

“Oh.” Oddly, the voice did sound disappointed. Sans couldn’t imagine why. Not like he could kiss her through the door, even if he had lips. And even if there was some unlikely timeline where she wanted a kiss from him.

He wanted to thump his skull back against the door, but there was no point in worrying her like that.

“In that case, I will take the kisses. They will be perfect for…”

He was sure she would leave it at that. Cover up with some non sequitur.

So his eyesockets went wide when she said, “for the anniversary of my child’s passing.”

“Oh.” He let out a strangled little laugh. “I—geez, I’m sorry. If I’d known—”

“You would have what? Spent even more money on this silly old lady, who cannot even leave to buy her child’s favorite chocolate?” Her voice was firm. “No. I thought you deserved to know, after the trouble you went to, and because you shared your own secret with me today.”

“My ‘dog stand is hardly a secret,” he said, still feeling a little shaky. She had a kid? A dead kid?

Well, who in the Underground didn’t have skeletons in their closet? Metaphorically or literally. She was still his best friend. If she wanted his pity, she would’ve said something sooner.

“Regardless,” she said. “It is in the past. Forget it, if you wish. But please do not treat me any differently.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said sincerely. If there was one thing he was good at, it was maintaining the status quo. “So, uh. These chocolates. I kind of wanted you to have all of ‘em, if that’s alright with you.”

“It would be rude to refuse a gift, would it not?” She sounded like she was smiling again, to his relief.

“There’s just one problem. Uh. Don’t think they’re all gonna fit under the door.” He rapped on the stone surface with his knuckle for emphasis.

“I did not assume they would. The recipe I gave you before hardly passed through.”

Sans blinked. “Then you—huh?”

“I will open the door just a fraction. It can only be done from the inside.” She paused, like she was gathering a breath. “I would ask that you do not look. I promise I will not peek, either.”

Sans’s ribcage tightened. She was going to open the door. She would be right there, with no stone between them.

The thought opened a desperate floodgate within him. He hadn’t realized just how badly he wanted to see her, to know her, to live off of more than just scraps and unfinished sentences.

She once had a child. She had some kind of beef against the King. She wanted to give charity to spiders, but didn’t have enough money. All these facts he filed away, tucking them into the grooves in his ribcage.

It would be enough. He’d duct tape those gates shut again, if he had to. He wasn’t going to betray the trust she’d shown him.

“Got it. You don’t wanna be smitten by my good looks, I understand,” he joked.

(He had a feeling it would be the other way around, if anything. Not that quality of jokes translated to quality of appearance—he would know. If it did, he’d have biceps like his brother.)

“It would be tragic. Much too high a price for you to handsome chocolate to me.”

“Heh, I’m sure you’re a door-able too. But I’ll keep my sockets shut, since our friendship hinges on it.”

That got a raucous laugh out of her, the kind that started off high-pitched and quickly became something of a snorting bleat. That sound was sweeter than chocolate to him.

...Man, his pals at Grilby’s would be right to dunk on him. He was a massive dork.

“Alright,” she said once she caught her breath, “if you are ready, my friend…”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Better choco-late than never, huh?”

That one only got a snort, but he wasn’t sure if that was because the pun fell flat, or because she was nervous. As far as he knew, she hadn’t been outside of the Ruins in years. And here she was, trusting a sentry—someone whose job it was to keep a look out—to turn a blind eye.

It was a good thing he’d never been good at his job.

Stone ground against stone with a dramatic rumble. His eyesockets stayed shut. Warmth emanated from somewhere near his shoulder, and he lifted the bag of chocolates.

His small hand brushed a large fur-covered one. A shiver trailed down his spine. One small touch shouldn’t have done so much to him, but—but she was real. She was more than just a voice behind a door. Which he knew, but knowing and feeling could be worlds apart at times.

She took the bag, and the moment was over. But the door didn’t close.

“My dear friend,” she whispered, her voice sounding closer than ever. “Would it be presumptuous to ask another favor of you?”

“‘Course not. Glad to do a favor for my favor-ite person.” He kept his tone light, unaffected by the swirling emotions inside him.

“If I could… oh, dear, this is embarrassing.”

He resisted the urge to open his eyes, to see what look might be on her face.

“It has simply been so long… may I hold your hand a moment longer?”

He felt the marrow heating within his bones.

“That all? I gotta hand it to ya, you made me think you needed an arm and a leg.”

She chuckled before awkwardly fumbling to grasp his hand again.

Heat poured from her palm into his phalanges. Aside from the fur, there were several spots of soft skin—probably paw pads. Was she a dog monster, like the Canine Unit in town? She didn’t make nearly enough dog jokes for that to be the case. Her laugh sounded more like a goat’s, but she obviously didn’t have hooves. Maybe she was some kind of chimera? You didn’t see those often nowadays, but then again, no one saw monsters from the Ruins, either.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice as soft as the snow that began to drift around him.

“Not disappointed?” He asked, only half-joking. “My hand can’t be as comfy as yours.”

“Ah, but it is all your bone. And that is wonderful to me.”

“Geez, old lady.” He was grateful she couldn’t see his blush. “You’re pretty fur-fect yourself.”

When she laughed, her body shook all the way down to her hand. The feeling more than made up for all the G he’d spent on chocolate and donuts.

Suddenly his hand was being lifted up, and then something soft pressed against his knuckles. His soul flared erratically, and his eyes nearly flew open. If they had, he was sure his left eyelight would have been blue from shock.

“A kiss for a kiss,” she said slyly. “It is only fair.”

“Heh heh…” His voice shook with more than laughter. “Technically, that was one kiss for a bag of kisses. Pretty sure that math doesn’t square up.”

“Oh, you are quite right! One day we will have to circle back and rectify that.”

He practically had to cast gravity magic on himself to keep his eyes from flying open.

“You—huh?” He said intelligently.

“Perhaps not soon,” she clarified. “This has all been… a lot, for me. But thanks to you, my dear friend, this day has not been so bitter as I am used to.”

“Uh, no problem, then. With all that chocolate, I hope it’s sweet.”

Sweet as the anniversary of a death could be, anyway. He grimaced. Maybe that joke was too soon, but she just squeezed his hand before finally letting go.

“I do think it will be,” she said softly. “I will look forward to hearing more of your punny jokes tomorrow.”

The door scraped shut, and he hesitantly opened his eyes. He couldn't help inspecting the door to see if anything changed. Pressing his still-warm hand against the smooth stone.

“Heh. Good luck getting rid of me now.” He grinned.

Then he tucked his hands in his pockets, where her kiss remained like a tattoo on his bone.

#tali writes #safeutdr #soriel #sans #toriel #fic tag #very happy with how this one turned out :D #hope you like it and thanks for the request!#prompt requests

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