#Hot Mess used to be my self-indulgent project but now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bts-bay-bee · 2 years

Text

labs

Pairing: jeon jungkook x fem!reader

Genre: smut

Word Count: 3391

Warnings: college!au, they’re paired for group work (ew), cursing, y/n is kind of uptight about their experiment (she cares about her academics, okay?), choking, a tiny bit of dry humping, use of the word “whore” but in a nice way, like “my pretty whore”, finger sucking, orgasm denial, spit kink (only a tiny bit because my dumb ass forgot to add that because I was so focused on the prompts – I’m sorry!), edging, unprotected sex, crying kink (sorry, I project), multiple orgasms, angry neighbours, unprotected sex, cum eating

Prompts: 1 (“You think your fingers will make you cum better than my cock?”), 5 (“Deeper? Harder? Think your little pussy can take it?”), 16 (“How about to stop eye-fucking me and start actually fucking me?”), 18(“You’re so sexy when you think you’re right.”)

Request: @sxtaep

A/N: I apologize in advance for the tiny bit of chemical engineering. I also apologize because this fic is very self-indulgent, but I suppose you already saw that from the word count. (This is also a hot mess but I really want to post something, sorry)

Jeon Jungkook was quite literally, irrevocably, the bane of your existence, so of course he’d be assigned as your lab partner. To make matters worse, the group list was quite clear: this was not just for the semester – but rather the entire year. An entire year of his bullshit.

“Jungkook, you’re opening the wrong valve,” You said through gritted teeth, clutching your pen in your hand, hovering over your data collection sheet. He turned around, eyebrow raised perfectly over his safety goggles, tattooed hand still opening the wrong valve.

“You’re so sexy when you think you’re right, Y/N.” He teased, throwing a wink over his shoulder before turning back to the piping system in front of him.

“I don’t think I’m right; I know I am. That valve has been broken since last semester. The technicians told us to use the main valve to shut the system off.” You snapped, throwing your supplies onto the nearest flat surface to shut the offending valve. “I swear, I should’ve just done the entire thing myself –”

“But what about spending time with me?” He pouted, grabbing your wrist in an attempt to bring you closer to him.

“And why would I want to spend time with you?” You laughed sarcastically, snatching your hand back, inspecting the data you collected – probably all useless since Jungkook had been opening and closing the wrong thing for the past hour. “Having you in class is more than what I need to see of you.”

“You say that now, but we both know you miss me when I’m not around.” Jungkook said smugly, taking the page out of your hand and looking at it himself. Staring at him in disbelief, you quickly glared at him when you saw the sun setting. Great. An entire afternoon wasted in this stupid lab with your stupid lab partner for this stupid experiment –

“How about to stop eye-fucking me and start actually fucking me?” He murmured, leaning down, close enough to kiss you if either of you moved in the wrong direction.

“This is a look of disdain, not desire.” You clarified, snatching back the data page, too invested in the figures to catch his frown. “This is all wrong, we don’t have enough time to fix it –”

“Just come in again tomorrow.” He shrugged, tugging on your sleeve to bring you closer to him. “It’s not a big deal, Y/N.”

“It’s not a big deal for you, I’m the one who has to figure out the calculations and then still write up the report.”

“It’s not like you’re alone, I’ll be working on it too. Plus, I know what equations we need –”

“Like you knew which valve to open?” You scoffed, begrudgingly accepting your backpack from him, stuffing it with your lab coat and goggles. Ignoring you, he opened the door to the lab, allowing you to step out before closing the door behind him. “How did you even end up as my lab partner? I’m pretty sure I saw Jaehyun’s name next to mine before the new pairings were posted –”

“It’s a long story,” He murmured, waving it off, seemingly irritated with mention of his friend’s name. “But I’d be happy to recall it over coffee –”

Cutting him off with a groan, you ignored the way he looked over at you, licking his lips at the sound. “Jungkook. We wasted an entire afternoon, someone needs to go do a literature review, since we couldn’t get the data, and I can guarantee you won’t be volunteering to do this. Just let me get work done.”

Seeing you stomping away from him, Jungkook sighed, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach… Maybe this time he had gone too far with trying to get a reaction out of you. Afterall, he knew the valve was broken – he was the one who had seen Namjoon sheepishly walk away after informing the technician of his misdeed – but the prospect of spending an extra afternoon with you seemed heavenly, even if you were beyond stressed and trapped in a too hot, too loud, too cramped lab.

Pouting without realizing, he turned on his heel, shrugging on his lab coat as he entered the building without you.

Knocking impatiently, you waited for Jungkook to open up his room door, arms crossed as you leaned against the wall. You were too tired, exhausted even, to berate Jungkook for making you come to his apartment when he very well knew you were trying to make up for his mistake.

Pulling back the door, you wanted to check him out properly, the grey sweatpants clinging to his muscular thighs almost made you drool, but you knew that if he caught you looking, you would never hear the end of it. Walking past him, you sat down in his living room, noticing that he had been busy on some spreadsheet.

“So, I need to confess something.” He started, locking the front door and sitting next to you, his knee knocking into your own. Side eyeing him, you tried not to let your worry show; something major must be wrong if he had asked to meet you in person, and not spam your phone like he usually does.

“The experiment today, I –”

“Jungkook, please, can we not talk about that mess.”

“I knew I messed up.” He mumbled, looking down. “I did it on purpose. I didn’t realize you were so stressed until we spoke after.”

Stunned, you stared at him, blinking but not saying anything.

“I just… I don’t know.” He continued, sighing. “Obviously we would have to redo it, I just didn’t think you’d hate spending an afternoon with me that much. I wanted to spend more time with you, I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

Still stunned and confused, you didn’t utter a word as he pulled his laptop closer to him, beckoning you closer as he showed you what he had been working on.

“I went back in and redid it. Everything fits the hypothesis. We just need to do a discussion based on the findings and conclude, then we’re done until next semester.”

Finally finding your words, you found yourself speaking softly, surprisingly not only yourself but Jungkook as well.

“Jungkook, that lab took forever, what time did you get back home?”

Shrugging, he put his laptop back on the coffee table, not meeting your gaze.

“I’m really sorry for wasting your time.” He mumbled. “I won’t bother you again –”

“I don’t hate spending time with you.” You blurted, interrupting him. Finally looking at you, he swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. “It’s just… I’d prefer not limiting our alone time to when we have to do a project together. Or when we have important assignments to submit the next day. And especially not when we’re stuck in the lab. That place brings out the worst parts of me.”

Snorting, Jungkook tried to hold back his retort. But failed. “I know, it’s like you turn into a dragon – ow! Y/N, seriously –”

For the love of all things holy (or however the saying goes), you do not know how you ended up in this situation. One minute you were clicking on the submit button, lab write up finally done, looking forward to celebrating finally being done with the semester, and the next you were faced with an irate Jungkook.

“What is your issue?” You hissed, looking at him incredulously as he closed both your laptops, jaw clenched.

“You keep teasing me, you have been for three days, and you expect me not to be pissed?” He scoffed. “You’re fucking stretching and whining and shoving everything I can’t have in my face, and you expect me not to be pissed?”

“I wasn’t whining, I was just stretching, we’ve been sitting here for hours –”

“You were arching your back!” Jungkook argued, pushing his hair back in frustration. Okay, fine, maybe you did moan when you stretched, but it’s not as if you were flashing him or something. Maybe you were pushing him to snap. Maybe you were close to getting exactly what you wanted.

“Arching my back?” You sighed, as if this conversation bored you. You wondered if he noticed your crossed legs. Or if he noticed you had (purposefully) not pulled up your lowcut shirt when it slipped lower on your chest. “Jungkook, please, stop seeing things that aren’t happening.”

“They are happening,” He scowled. “You’ve been doing this for days, Y/N. It’s like you’re begging me to take you across the closest available flat surface.”

“And if I am?” You smirked, making him sigh through his nose as he closed his eyes, jaw clenching further. “What if I want you to take what you want? Take whatever you want, without asking, without needing to ask?”

Standing abruptly, he caged you against his desk, trying to control his breathing. When he opened his eyes, you saw his pupils were dilated, a dead give away of his arousal.

“Is that what you want from me?” He whispered, index finger trailing over your exposed collarbone, barely touching you. Although faint, his touch sent a ripple of shivers through you, making his gaze turn even more predatory. “To take whatever I want? To treat you like nothing more than some toy?”

Biting your lip, you raised your eyebrow at him. An invitation to do whatever he wanted.

Grabbing your neck harshly, he pushed you flat against his desk, his free hand coming up to clutch your hair, making sure you wouldn’t move as he forced your mouth open with his own, sucking greedily on your tongue. He tasted like coffee and chocolate, the snacks he had so graciously brought out for you, wanting to keep you satiated while you purposefully teased him, purposely pissed him off.

Raising his knee, he pressed it against your core, letting you grind down on it. Feeling you hump his knee, he chuckled darkly, pressing into your cunt harder, feeding off of your tiny whines.

“Oh, baby, you’re getting off on this?” He scoffed; amusement clear in his tone. “My pretty, little whore can get off from just humping my leg? How fucking pathetic.”

His words washed over you with shame, but you knew he was right – Jungkook was just one of those people who could be sexy doing the most mundane things. As much as you hate to admit it, you enjoyed it when was asked to do any manual labour in the labs; muscles bulging through his lab coat, toned muscles barely contained by his jeans, as he helped someone open a particularly stubborn valve. Even better when he had to jump up onto a raised platform – putting him at the perfect height to grab you by the back of the neck and fuck your throat for any and everybody to see. Speaking of which –

“Want to suck your cock,” You mumbled, dazed as you continued to press your core against his thigh. “Please, need your cock in my mouth.”

“Do you deserve my cock, baby?” He asked, insincere sweetness dripping from his lips. “Do you think this lying, teasing, mouth deserves my cock?”

“But I want it,” You cried, pleasure ebbing from your body as he lessened the pressure his thigh expended on your core. Pinning your hips to the wooden table, he forced you to deal with barely-there pleasure. “Please, I’ll be good for you.”

“But what if I want to fuck your little pussy?” He asked, veiny hands trailing over the waistband of your pants, slowly pulling them down to find your light pink panties. Balling your pants up and throwing it at random, he began softly caressing you through the flimsy material. “What if I want to fuck my baby stupid? Make you beg me to stop when you can’t take my whole cock, hmm? What then?”

“Want that too.” You mumbled, eyes half-closed from need. “Want everything you want to do to me.”

“Well, we won’t be doing anything,” He breathed, “Not until you soak your panties for me, okay baby?”

“No, please fuck me, I can take you now,” You mumbled, struggling to not just continue humping his knee until you cum. “I’m so wet for you, Jungkook, please.”

“If you’re so wet for me, how come only this tiny bit of your panties are wet then?” He murmured, outlining the small, but growing, wet patch on your panties, making you squirm. “No, Y/N, I want you to soak my dick when I fuck you, need you to be dripping for me, okay?”

“s’gonna take too long.” Whining, you were two seconds away from tears. “I want you now.”

“I don’t care what you want.” Jungkook smiled, cheeks making an eye-smile as he shoved his fingers into your mouth, making you choke slightly as he pushed it in further. “Now shut the fuck up, and grind on my thigh. Be my good girl, Y/N.”

“Please, please, I’m close – I’m gonna cum, Jungkook –”

“Nuh-uh, not yet, sweetheart,” He crooned, ripping away his fingers over your clit at the last moment, just barely preventing your orgasm. You were so close this time, it felt like you were just about to fall off the edge and he had abruptly yanked you off the ledge.

Tears of frustration dripped down your cheeks, as he grinned at your ruined panties, now thoroughly soaked with your arousal. Letting you recover for a second, his fingers went back to your still-clothed clit, rubbing tiny circles, hard and fast.

Furrowing his eyebrows in concentration, you felt yourself leak more arousal. You hated how empty you felt; core aching to be filled, stuffed to the brim with his cock, his fingers, anything he would give you. After being edged for so long, it didn’t take much to have you speeding towards the precipice of euphoria,

“I just – want to – cum, please!” You panted, trying to rip your wrists out of his hand, planning to finger yourself if he pulled away again. You deserved an orgasm after being denied so long, and at this point you didn’t care if it came from him or you. You just needed a release. “I swear, Jungkook, I’ll fuck myself if you stop now –”

Openly laughing, he pulled away, holding your wrists tighter as you struggled against him. “And how exactly are you going to do that, sweetheart?”

“I have fingers,” You snapped, continuously struggling against him, tears still flowing down your cheeks out of desperation. You felt as if you would fall apart at the seams if you didn’t get your release soon, desperation gripping every inch of you. “I want to cum and if you won’t let me, then let me finish myself off –”

“You think your fingers will make you cum better than my cock?” He whispered, his free hand, unbeknownst to you, pulling his sweats down, pulling his aching length out, tugging on it a few times. “You think anything you do can make you feel better than I can?”

He didn’t care for an answer, instead pulling your panties aside, sliding his length right inside, the stretch making you both moan. Grinding his entire length into you, he made sure he was as deep in as he could be, ignoring the way you gasped for air repeatedly.

“Can your fingers reach this deep, baby?” He asked sweetly, muscles bulging, hand squeezing his wrists tightly before quickly letting go, instead finding solace on your throat, without squeezing. “Hmm? No? Of course, it can’t. You need my cock to make you feel like this, yeah?”

Mumbling nonsense, you tried grinding against him, desperate for any type of friction that you were able to get with the limited space to move. Wearing a genuine smile, Jungkook kissed your forehead as he saw how blissed out you were, almost content with just being filled with his length. Almost.

“Please,” You mumbled, kissing and sucking tiny marks onto his skin. “Please, anything –”

“Who would’ve thought you could be fucked dumb?” He teased, barely pulling out, his own muscles tensing as your core gripped his length, not wanting to part from it. “Such a greedy pussy, babe, doesn’t want to let me pull out.”

Consciously unclenching around his cock, he pulled out completely, rubbing the head over your clit, causing even more tears of frustration to leak down your cheeks, a whimper involuntarily leaving you.

Almost as if a flipped had switched in him, he began thrusting into you hard, thumb running under your eye, gathering your tears on one side, kissing them away on the other.

“You look so fucking cute when you cry.” He murmured, kissing the corner of your lips as your hands gripped his biceps, his hair, anything you could get your hands on. “Wanted to make you cry from my cock for the longest time, Y/N.”

“I wanted you for so long,” You gasped, nails leaving tiny indents on his skin as he began rubbing circles on your clit. Your denied orgasm reared its head again, making your voice higher, breathes faster. “I want you so spit in my mouth – fuck, please, harder! Please, I want you deeper –”

“Deeper? Harder? Think your little pussy can take it?” he snapped, hand once again wrapped around your throat, pinning you down with a single hand. You gasped, not expecting him to actually give it to you. Using his free hand, he held your chin, making sure your lips were parted enough to let the rivulet of spit fall into your mouth, only barely making a mess. This pushed you over the edge and within moments he had forced you to reach your orgasm, finally letting you cum on his length.

Muscles spasming, you whined, moaned his name so loud that you heard someone in the other dorm angrily hit their shared wall. Ignoring them, he kissed you deep, swallowing your moans, taking your breath away, leaving you gasping for air.

He fucked you through the entire thing, never once faltering, even when you wrapped your legs around him, wanting him to never leave your core. His thrusts turned more into grinding as his own high approached, deft thumb still rubbing over your clit, the constant stimulation making your already sensitive core spasm again, orgasm leaving you full on crying.

Without realizing, you had clenched so hard when you came, his cock had been pushed out, something that made him curse, immediately lining up his leaking length to your cunt. Pushing inside, ignoring your gasps and spasming muscles, he groaned,

“I know, baby, I’m almost there, I promise.”

“Want your cum, please,” You whispered, having no energy for anything other than to be used as his toy. “Want every drop, anywhere you want to, just want your cum –”

Your pleads were drowned out by his curses, quickly pulling out and jerking off until his cum pooled on your stomach, the sheer amount threatening to spill over onto his desk, especially as you took in deep breathes, attempting to recover from your high.

Leaning down, he kissed you sweetly, as if he hadn’t been telling you how fuckable you look when you cry, and you felt his fingers trailing over the warm cum on your skin, scooping some up and pressing his fingers into your mouth, simultaneously dropping more spit into your mouth.

Twisting your fingers in his hair, you refused to let him part from you, only letting him go far enough to gather more of his cum from your stomach, alternating between sucking his fingers clean and swallowing his spit.

When he had successfully cleaned your skin, he tried pulling away, tiny giggles bubbling from him when you whined.

“Come on, we need to take a shower.”

“I don’t have clean clothes,” You mumbled, leaning up, trying to get his lips on your own again.

“Use mine.” He sighed, exasperatedly, his eyes full of amusement. “Let’s go, I want to get us cleaned up so we can watch a movie.”

“But I want to keep kissing you!” You sighed back, using his tone against him. His skin heated, refusing to look you in the eyes.

“I promise I’ll kiss you more later, I just want to spend some time with you which doesn’t entail us bending over a desk.”

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts smut #smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts

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theweasleysredhair · 4 years

Text

Distracted [F.W.]

Character: Fred Weasley

Word Count: 2628

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Fred Weasley is hot and boy, does he know it.

WARNINGS: it’s a lil spicy, read with caution. a couple of saucy comments, just the usual with fred idk.

Tags: @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @firewhisky-kisses @obsessedwithrandomthings @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @potterverseimagine @slytherineheir @kpopgirlbtssvt @rexorangecouny @mytreec @hemmoporro @thisismysketchbook @acciotwinz @shadowsinger11 @aaannabbanana @lestersglitterglue @anyasthoughts @lxncelot @harrypotter289 @starlightweasley @wand3ringr0s3 @ickle-ronniekins @sehunasbitch @cryingforcrystalpepsi @kashishwrites @girl-next-door-writes @susceptible-but-siriusexual @crissdanvers @whizbangs-78 @heart-of-tempered-steel @oh-for-merlins-sake | message or send an ask to be added/removed!

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: i am really feeling fred atm, so here’s an extremely self-indulgent freddie thirst fic for all my lovelies who are also irrevocably in love with him - enjoy!

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

Fred Weasley knew just how to get under your skin. It was a skill he had, a talent of knowing exactly what to do to get you hot and bothered, especially when you weren’t expecting it. It was especially frustrating when you couldn’t do anything about it, considering you were stuck in limbo between being friends and being more, and whilst you liked the lingering stares and longing touches, you couldn’t help but want more with him.

You had hoped he would’ve asked you to the Yule Ball last year - in fact, everyone was insistent that he would - but then he’d asked Angelina instead, which was hard to watch - George had laughed with his brother, but had grabbed your hand under the table in comfort - and made you doubt Fred actually returned your feelings at all.

Despite this, you’d actually ended up going to the ball with an extremely cute Durmstrang boy yourself, so you weren’t completely complaining, and of course, Fred had actually ended the night with you in his arms, dancing to the musical stylings of The Weird Sisters. It was also the night of your first - and only - kiss with Fred, under the stars in the Courtyard, in front of the fountain.

It was perfect, and you thought maybe things would change between you, maybe you’d be more, however when he didn’t act any different, never mentioned it again, you decided to keep quiet about it too.

In fact, you’d been pretty good at keeping your feelings under wrap since then. Of course, everyone knew how you felt - or at the very least, suspected - but no one said a word (besides Hermione, who you’d confessed everything to after she’d asked about it, knowing she wouldn’t say a word but also that she wouldn’t stop asking until she knew the truth).

And you were fine. Everything was fine. Until you got invited to the Burrow a few weeks before summer ended, and when you’d arrived after a month or so of not seeing Fred, you’d felt winded at his first smile of greeting, and felt your heart beating out of your chest when he’d pulled you into a hug, holding you against him as you buried your face into the jumper he was wearing at the time.

His hair had been cut since you’d last seen him on the Hogwarts Express, and whilst you’d liked the long hair - had enjoyed the way it had felt as you ran your hands through it that one time you’d kissed him - you couldn’t help how attracted you were to him with shorter hair, constantly feeling the urge to tug at it whenever you saw him.

He looked especially good when his hair was all tousled, windswept - exactly like it was as you watched him sitting on his broomstick outside as he waited for his siblings to be ready to play a last practise game of Quidditch before you’d all be leaving for 12 Grimmauld Place before the school year started back up again.

You were sat at a table in the kitchen underneath the large window overlooking the garden, giving you a perfect view of the sunshine and your friends playing Quidditch. Also a perfect view of Fred wearing a tight t shirt, holding his beater’s bat behind his neck, resting it on his shoulder blades as he showed off his biceps and laughed as Ron nearly fell off his broom due to a particularly sharp dig from Ginny’s elbow.

They’d asked if you or Hermione wanted to join, however you knew you wouldn’t be much use playing Quidditch when Fred was being as distracting as his was, and besides, you had a Herbology project to work on. Hermione had also elected not to play, not having much of an interest in playing Quidditch, and instead resided in her room with a book she’d borrowed from Molly.

You glanced out of the window as the boys flew up on their broomsticks, letting the quaffle, snitch and bludgers fly out, immediately beginning to play. You’d always loved watching Quidditch at Hogwarts, cheering for your house and the excitement and thrills that came with it. There was always an added element when you knew that Fred was playing too.

He was a good beater - possibly the best in Hogwarts, tied with George - his actions fluid as he flew around the air with ease, practicing new strategies and working on his skills after a school year of being unable to play due to the Triwizard Tournament taking over.

You watched his arms clench as he hit the bludgers away, his hands grasping the bat in a way you wanted him to grasp you. Something about the way he flew around and hit the bludgers so easily made you sigh contently as you set your quill to one side, forgetting about your project.

The exercise coupled with the midday August heat meant practise didn’t last too long - much to your dismay - but enough to make Fred sweaty, clearly breathing heavily as he jumped off his broom and grabbed a water of bottle he’d discarded to one side before playing.

He downed nearly half the bottle, before wafting his t shirt a little to cool himself down, then suddenly, as if someone had taken one of your daydreams and brought it to life, he lifted the bottle and tipped it over his head, the water cascading down his hair and face.

You watched as if it were in slow motion, the water drenching his already tight-fitting t shirt, the fabric clinging to the outline of his abs as he closed his eyes and let the water cool him down.

His biceps clenched as he brought his arm back down again, and you were once again brought to the attention of his hands gripping the bottle, gaze following along his forearms as you stared at the veins protruding.

Your mouth dropped a little, heart pounding as you watched water droplets fall down his face and collarbone, as he opened his eyes and ran a hand through his now wet hair sticking to his forehead, trying to mess it up a little more.

He then pulled up the bottom of his t shirt to wring out the excess water, exposing his abdomen and suddenly you forgot how to function, barely being able to breathe as you took in the sight.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked as she entered the kitchen and wandered by your table, noticing your faraway look and the fact you hadn’t actually started your project yet. She grabbed some leftover food from the counter and turned to look at you.

“Fred Weasley is what’s wrong,” you grumbled, turning away from watching him reluctantly, “He’s infuriating... ly good looking.”

Hermione shook her head with a soft smile, “I really don’t know what you see in him.”

Thoughts of Fred wearing a wet t shirt danced through your mind as you swallowed harshly. “I don’t know either,” you lied.

“Well, let me know if you want any help with your project - I’ve finished mine,” Hermione offered as she headed out of the kitchen. You called out a “Thank you!” to her retreating form as your attention was pulled back to the eldest twin outside.

He was laughing at something someone had said, before he began making his way towards the back door, which so happened to be near where you were sitting.

Your heart was pounding as he entered the room, you averting your gaze from him as you pretended you were looking at anything but him.

“Like what you saw?” His voice suddenly rang out through the room. You looked over at him - it taking all your effort to not stare at the way his shirt was clinging to him - and cleared your throat, blinking up at him innocently.

“Excuse me?”

“Noticed you watching me outside, especially at the end. Darling, do you find me pouring water down myself attractive?” Fred replied with a cheeky grin shot in your direction, before heading over to a high cabinet and grabbing a glass out, filling it from the tap.

“I didn’t even notice,” you shook your head adamantly, sneakily staring at the way his drenched t shirt accentuated the way the muscles in his back moved.

Fred’s smug expression as he turned around told you he didn’t believe you in the slightest, “Are you sure? Because it definitely seemed like you were enjoying the view.”

“Don’t be daft, I’ve been here working on my Herbology project,” you gestured to the parchment in front of you, gulping as you realised you still hadn’t actually written a word down, much less even opened your textbook.

Fred smirked as he noticed this, bringing his glass of water to his lips slowly as he took a sip, “You do realise windows work two ways, right love?”

And indeed, this had been a fact you’d forgotten, in your distracted haze. You felt your heart beating faster as you hoped - prayed - he was just playing around and didn’t actually look up to see you ogling him from the window. How embarrassing.

“I am aware of that, yes,” you nearly stuttered, hoping you came across nonchalantly but knowing by the grin widening on his face that you’d failed.

“So you know I could see you checking me out, right? All your staring,“ he teased, running a hand through his wet hair and making you forget where you were for a moment.

“I wasn’t staring at you,” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, “I was staring at George.”

“Oh yeah? If that’s true, what colour shirt was George wearing?”

You knew he knew he had you with that, as your mind went blank. Because truthfully, the only person you’d been staring at was, in fact, Fred, and you hated that he was extremely aware of that.

“Green?” You guessed, hoping your guess was miraculously correct. Watching as Fred grinned at you knowingly, you knew immediately you’d gotten it wrong.

“Red,” he corrected and you sighed helplessly.

You stood up to face him properly, pushing your hair back out of your face as you looked up at him. Fred’s eyes travelled down your frame for a few seconds, him absent-mindedly biting his lip at the sight of you.

He blinked, taking in the sight of you wearing denim shorts, fitted to your thighs - thighs he wanted wrapped around him - and his breath caught in his throat as he realised the light coloured shirt you were wearing, knotted at your waist and showing a slither of your stomach, was in fact his.

He found himself distracted, vaguely aware that you were speaking to - or rather, ranting at - him, as he stared at you, before zoning back in just as he heard you say, “I mean, what would you do if I suddenly grabbed a bottle of water and poured it over me?”

Images began flying through his head. There were a lot of things he would do, most of which involved him pressed against you and his hands all over you, preferably with you moaning his name.

“Maybe you should do it and find out,” he said completely seriously, wanting nothing more than to watch as you poured water down yourself.

You rolled your eyes, albeit feeling a tad flustered, “Can you just... change your shirt please.”

“Why, is something distracting you, love?” He asked almost innocently, tilting his head to one side - almost as if in concern, however his cocky grin told you that he knew exactly what he was doing.

You gulped, not being able to stop your eyes from wandering down to his clenched abs, covered by the wet material of his t shirt yet not leaving much to the imagination. He, of course, noticed this and saw an opportunity to tease you even more.

“Well, if you really want me out of this shirt...” he sighed playfully and shook his head with a smile, before placing his glass down and grabbing the bottom of his shirt, and pulling it - slowly - off of him.

You watched as the fabric pulled from his skin, knowing he was doing it on purpose yet not being able to turn away, your mouth dropping a little as he exposed his toned torso, shorts hanging low on his hips.

You felt your mouth go dry, eyes widening a little, both mentally cursing and proposing to him just from this sight alone.

He pulled the shirt over his head and ran a hand through his hair again, and you fought the urge to dramatically collapse back into the chair behind you as he smirked at you.

This boy was going to be the death of you.

“Fred,” you spoke warningly, forcing yourself to look back up to his eyes - which, unfortunately for you, were just as distracting.

“Y/n,” he replied with a cheeky grin, leaning back against the counter, his hands gripping onto the counter sides, making the veins in his forearms pop out, and you swore you lost the ability to breathe in that moment.

“I mean it.”

“What? I’m not doing anything,” he pretended to be innocent, “It’s too hot to wear a t shirt at the moment.”

“You’re too hot,” you mumbled under your breath, then cleared your throat, hoping he didn’t quite catch what you said. When he didn’t react, you assumed he hadn’t and continued on, “You know exactly what you’re doing. You’re insufferable.”

Fred stepped closer to you, enjoying the way your breath hitched as his hand reached out to hold your waist. He then leant forward, his face centimetres from yours, a smirk gracing his lips as his tongue darted out across his bottom lip, “You know you love me.”

“Oh do I now?” You moved a little closer, looking up into his eyes as he moved his lips subconsciously towards yours. “Yeah,” he confirmed, nodding a little, eyes half-lidded, “You do.”

He paused for a moment, his free hand reaching to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear as he cupped your jaw, “And I love you.”

“Do you?” You whispered as his lips brushed against yours gently.

“Course I do,” he mumbled, looking at you softly before pressing his lips properly against yours, the hand on your waist squeezing a little before moving to rest against the small of your back, pushing you towards him to ensure there was no space left between you.

His lips moved against yours roughly, his tongue licking into your mouth as your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down towards you. His hands guided themselves to hold the back of your thighs, just under your bum, and you only just heard the “Jump.” that he’d muttered against you, before you did as he said.

Your legs wrapped around his waist and he sat you on the table beside your long-forgotten project, him leaning you back on said table ever so slightly as he gripped your hips. One of your hands moved to lay flat on his bare chest, the other running through his still-damp hair and tugging a little just as you’d imagined.

He pulled away, breathing heavily as he continued to press kisses to your lips, moving down your jaw and towards your neck.

“Still want me to put a shirt back on?” He grinned against your skin. “Nah,” you bit your lip as he kissed just under your ear, before moving to grab his hands in yours, jumping off the table and pulling him towards the stairs, aiming to head towards his bedroom,

“I’d rather just take mine off instead.”

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley #all queue have to do is follow the spiders

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albakore · 3 years

Text

At the Salon

Synopsis: you and the boys getting your nails done

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Childe (gn!reader)

Warnings: none :D

A/N: ok so I’m just gonna say upfront that none of these are gonna be just flat out “they would never get their nails done” cause that’d be boring but I’m gonna include an ✨in-character reason✨ as to why I think they wouldn’t mind getting their nails painted

also, this is my first original post i guess! It’s nice to meet you all! ive been thinking about writing on and off for a while now but I didn’t know where to start. I kinda wrote this on a whim after getting my nails done. send in any requests or ideas so I can get my acc rolling :D

I was going to do Venti and Xiao too but I got bored so I’ll add them in a separate post if people want

Diluc

Ok so first and foremost is my beloved

If you enjoy getting your nails done he absolutely doesn’t mind taking you every few weeks or so.

Just because he isn’t exactly one to indulge himself in luxury doesn’t mean he feels like his lover shouldn’t either!

If it’s what you want then he’ll more than happily oblige

shameless self indulgence.. i just want to be spoiled by diluc

on some occasions when he’s able to make it to the salon with you, he’ll also get a manicure

some people might say “diluc would never get a manicure because he doesn’t care about his appearance!”

but i think it’s more like this: he gets manicures because he doesn’t care what other people think about his appearance

he cares more about comfort and practicality than fashion or looks

getting someone else to keep his nails trimmed and clean is more practical than trying to keep up with them himself

and damn is that massage chair comfortable

(whatever you do don’t imagine diluc laid back enjoying his massage chair with his eyes closed as he’s getting his nails filed.. the sigh of relief that would leave this man after weeks of stress have built up and he’s finally able to just relax with his s/o)

and it’s an excuse to spend time with you outside of his busy schedule

probably doesn’t ever get color.. i think he’ll stick to clear polish

maybe if you beg him enough he might get one or two of his nails painted to match whatever you get

but only if he likes whatever color you picked out

i feel like he’s not necessarily ashamed of having them painted or anything

because again, diluc really could not care less what other people think of him

it’s just not practical to have like hot pink nails or something. makes it hard to blend in to the darkness, as is necessary to attend to his nighttime duties

now that I’ve made it a point to say Diluc doesn’t care what people think:

he’d absolutely die if he ever ran into Kaeya or Jean or anyone he knew there

would def try to cover it up with indifference though

“(Y/N) and I come here often to keep our nails from getting damaged. There’s nothing strange about that.”

that won’t stop him from coming back again with you in a few weeks though

Kaeya

ok so Kaeya def gets his nails done on the regular. he probably has a schedule

like he’s going every 4 weeks on the dot with or without you

hates when his nails get long and start chipping or breaking

which is why he’s so uptight about his nail maintenance

so if you wanna go with him you better clear your schedule for whatever time and day he chooses cause he’s not taking any rain checks

also just gets clear polish most of the time

with that being said, I don’t think he’s above trying a new color every so often

the occasional blue, black, other neutrals or maybe even a silver if he’s feeling extra adventurous

keeps his nails short like Diluc, doesn’t get acrylics or anything super fancy

partially because long nails get in the way of his work

also i hc he used to bite his nails as a nervous habit when he was younger totally not projecting

(which is why he’s so serious about his nail salon schedule, having long/broken nails really makes the urge to bite them come back)

def knows his nail techs well. they all adore him

has his one “go to” nail tech who he gossips with

knows like all their life stories too? he’ll tell you afterward like “oh your nail tech is the one whose husband tried to leave her for another girl. she was telling me about how his mom called her and snitched on him-“

kaeya where do you find the brain capacity to store all this random trivia about people’s personal lives

Childe

loves going to the salon with you

he gets matching nail polish colors he’s not ashamed

for the same reason that he’d keep the polish on whenever Tonia or Teucer wanted to paint his nails

his adoration for you outshines whatever embarrassment he might’ve felt otherwise

if people ask him about his nails he’ll excitedly tell them about how he went to the salon with his s/o

and an excuse to tell anyone about his amazing s/o is a win in his book

also, loves the little reminder of you when he can’t be with you

he’s just out taking care of his own business and he catches sight of his nails and thinks of you <3

always pays for both of you of course. i’d expect nothing less from the ginger

it doesn’t matter if you get every service offered and the total ends up being crazy expensive

don’t even worry about it he’s already got his wallet ready 😌

the people at the salon love him because he gives like 40% tips

gets designs sometimes.. just little things he thinks are cool.

imagine him getting a little whale on his ring finger or smth

also probably got googly eyes or something once because he thought it was funny

“Mr. Zhongli, watch!” (shakes his hands so the eyes go all over the place)

most of the time he just sticks to basic colors because adding extra things gets old fast, and makes his gloves uncomfy

his fav colors to get are red and white

red because it reminds him of blood

and white because it reminds him of the snow in Snezhnaya :D

def takes you to fancy salons where they offer you wine and give you massages complimentary with your manicure

gets really upset when his nails chip. godspeed to the poor treasure hoarder he was sparring with who just accidentally knocked Childe’s hand in the wrong way

comes home and is immediately like “(Y/N) we need to make another appointment to get our nails redone! mine got messed up at work :( ”

ignore the blood on his shirt that is totally not related to his nails being chipped

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin diluc #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #childe #diluc #kaeya #childe x reader #childe headcanons #diluc headcanons #kaeya headcanons

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dooodle-bug · 2 years

Text

Headcanon list for my pmtok ocs

uhhh haha not to be Cringe, but I really wanted to be self indulgent and drop some headcanons for my beloved sonas ocs so here ya go!

Explorer Koopa:

-She/her pronouns

-Her actual name is "Jia" apparently nobody calls her that-

-Spawns after Streamer Cleared in every location somewhere doin something chill like walking around or hanging. The only exception to this is Hot Foot Crater and Origami Castle, which she Does Not go to for obvious reasons-

-When you talk to her, she says something like "Oh hey Mario I'm just chillin around btw did you know that [insert fun fact relevant to current location]??" also, like other NPCs, she repeats the messages as NPCs do

-Talking to her is completely optional and something players would probably only do when Backtracking or just to read the funny dialogue, but after talking to her in EVERY location at least once, she is most pleased by your pursuit of knowledge and trivia and rewards you with the "Kurious Koopa" Trophy, which is necessary for 100% game completion.

-But other than that she just doesn't do much but hang around as any other ordinary NPC-

-In terms of backstory, upon first meeting her, she introduces herself by stating how she is a college student travelling about for research and interest in learning more about this funny world, wanting to ramble about fun facts to anyone who's interested in listening and that's about it-

-To be a bit more in depth, she actually goes to the same college that Professor Toad works at! She takes a ton of minors (Prof's class coincidentally being one of them), but I think she'd major in biology or history or something-

-Interestingly, despite being a Koopa, she really doesn't have much affliction with Bowser's army, for no reason in particular other than she just. Wasn't into working for him, choosing to instead Pursue for Knowledge bc why tf not-

-Childhood and junk was. Pretty Normal for a koopa, nothing too wild or wacky-

-Uhh she's roughly in her early to mid 20s and has been attending that college for roughly 2-ish years-

-Now, personality wise, she's quite softspoken and shy, typically keeping to herself and her studies, however, when discussing any of her interests, she immediately gets super-duper excitable and energetic, going on about all this trivia and stuff she knows regarding the topic-

-Despite being rather shy, she is well-meaning, wanting to help out and Educate the world-

Sticky Note

-They/them pronouns

-Guardian of the Peach Streamer, an optional, non canon streamer present as a DLC.

-Referred to as "Sticky Note" instead of "Post-It" due to the fact that post-it is probably a copyrighted label I probably couldn't use legally- Also Sticky Note just works as a Generalized term.

-Is a pretty big cube, being about 14 feet tall.

-While I don't completely have an idea for their zone down, I can imagine it being some sort of mountainous, rocky location. Speaking of which, you gotta Ascend the mountain to the top peak where the streamer resides. Regardless, I'll need to work out the details at a later date.

-Sticky's personality can be summarized as "the kid who hates everyone and does the entire group project out of spite".

-They take on the personality of some sort of Guardian, peace-keeper, or better yet, Detective as they, in their mind, defeand the world by solving problems, cleaning up the messes, and giving those No-Good bad guys what they deserve.

-In reality, they have a backwards way of thinking, actually being the amoral one who is bossy, judgemental, and single minded, blinded by their annoyance of everyone.

-Theyre also quite nitpicky, quickly casting judgement the moment you fuck up, even a little.

-in terms of gimmick and battle strategy, they use their post it's to close you into a lil "prison". They cover the tiles with notes, making them unrecognizable and thus, unusable (however they can be washed away with the water vellumental). Their other moves compose of body slamming, using their post it's to sorta toss you around and all that good stuff.

Aaannndd that's about all I have! Thank you to whomever took time to read the entire thing, I appreciate it! Like usual, feel free to ask any questions!

#hrg I feel so cringe but I wanna get my thoughts n stuff down-#shoutout to any poor fool who went out of their way to read the entire thing I know it was a lot-#unrelated but shoutout to the fella who suggested the name Explorer Koopa thanks bro ur a lifesaver <3 #I-use-my-words-to-express-myself #pmtok #paper mario the origami king #oc #pmtok oc #paper mario oc #original character

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kimbertsurprise · 3 years

Text

where you land is where i’d like to be

i got sad and wanted to write about boys in love, so this is a very soft very self-indulgent almost 3k. also on ao3 here

Kravitz slips into the back of the auditorium, tugging his gloves off and tucking them into his pocket. He runs a hand down his locs, leaving droplets sticking to his skin. It’s snowing outside. The first snow of the season, which Kravitz probably should find beautiful. But right now it’s just cold and wet, and his nerves are tingling.

The auditorium is warm, though, and Kravitz shakes it off as he steps inside. He has always loved this place. The high, arched ceilings, the red fabric seats – every time he sees it, he’s reminded of the first concert he went to as a boy. So much has changed since then, but the majesty of a theater never will.

Plus, the voice echoing through the hall doesn’t hurt.

Taako stands on stage, glittering as much as the snow falling outside. He likes to show off for his students, Kravitz knows – a sparkling cape here, a firework there. Today he is gleaming in knee high boots and a billowing white blouse, gold climbing up his ears.

“Wrong,” Taako says as Kravitz steps through the door and settles himself against the wall. “Bond theory has nothing to do with ghosts, are you even trying?” A beam of light shoots from Taako’s finger and into the audience, followed quickly by an “oof” and a round of laughter from the other students. “Bad answers get purple hair. Next!”

Kravitz grins. Taako rarely handles a guest lecture the same way twice, but this feels exactly like him – a bit of mischief, a bit of drama. Another student raises a hand from a few rows down. “Bonds!” he shouts, and Kravitz swallows a laugh.

“Are you kidding?” Taako throws his hands into the air, and gold bracelets sparkle down his arm. The ones Kravitz got him for their anniversary a few months ago. “Did you just answer the question ‘How do bonds interact with the material plane’ with ‘bonds’? If you don’t look like Taako you can’t get away with that, bubbelah.” He paces the stage, scanning across the audience. Until his eyes land on Kravitz leaning against the wall, and he stops.

Kravitz offers a tiny nod and a smile, and Taako’s answering grin lights up his face.

It hasn’t gotten old yet, the realization that Kravitz can make him smile like that. There are a million versions of Taako’s smile, when he’s willing to use it: half-lifted and smirking, sharp and all teeth, soft and sleepy. It never stops feeling like a miracle when Kravitz is the one to pull them out.

He never expected to feel like this. He enjoyed his work on the Astral Plane; he knew it was important, and the time alone never bothered him. But Kravitz never expected to feel alive again, not in any real way. Until he met Taako, glowing in pink crystal; until his hands were cracked with clay and an umbrella was trying to attack him. It’s the way Taako’s whole family makes him feel, really. They are a mess and a thorn in his side but they bump against each other so beautifully that Kravitz can’t help but feel grateful to be a part of it.

He was chosen for the promise of his power, once. It doesn’t quite feel real that now he’s chosen for just who he is.

“How ‘bout you, kemosabe?” Taako continues, pulling Kravitz back from his thoughts and into the warm, crowded hall. Taako’s eyes haven’t left Kravitz, and his smile has an edge of mischief. “Got anything to say about bonds?”

The students are all looking at him. Whispers have started – they shuffle around the hall like blowing leaves. “Is that –” “It’s not, he looks so normal!” “But why would he be here –”

Kravitz grins at the twinkle in Taako’s eye and starts down the aisle. If Taako wants a show, he’ll put on a show. “Whaddyou know about ghosts, guvnah?” he asks, and barely keeps it together as Taako’s face lights with laughter.

Kravitz is a few steps closer to the stage before Taako manages to control himself enough to respond. “I hear they’re very spooky.”

“That’s a common misconception, that is,” Kravitz replies, now climbing up the stairs. “Ghosts are just like you and me.”

Taako is grinning like a cat. “Is that so?”

“Well,” Kravitz says, dropping the accent and gathering his power, “maybe more like me than you.”

Taako’s burst of laughter is covered by the gasps from the audience as Kravitz’s scythe appears in his hand. The feathers of his robe are a little ruffled around his collar – they always are, when he transforms so quickly like this – but it’s worth it to see the kid in the front row literally fall out of his chair.

The room roars, whispers turning into shouts. “Did he –” “My mom is going to DIE when she hears this –” “He’s the actual Grim Reaper –”

“Class dismissed!” Taako shouts over the din. “Ask Ren about anything that’s due this week, I have no fucking clue!”

Kravitz keeps his Reaper form as the students straggle away, some glancing over their shoulders as if to see what’s going to happen. It’s only when the last backpack disappears through the door that he sinks back to the desk where Taako is, tucking his scythe back into a pocket realm. “Tough lecture?”

Taako stacks a few papers and taps them on the desk. “They wouldn’t know genius if it hit them in the face. Or got projected straight into their brains.”

“It must be hard for your school to be full of such amateurs.”

“You have no idea.”

Kravitz steps around the desk and reaches out, skin melting into place over his skeletal form. “Anything I can do?”

Taako hums and touches his fingertips to Kravitz’s. “Maybe I have an idea…”

Kravitz’s lips reform smiling, and are immediately pressed against Taako’s. It’s nice. It’s more than nice, really, still somewhat overwhelming with how wonderful it feels – until Taako pulls back.

“Cold face, yowza.”

“Comes with the territory, I’m afraid.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be getting all warm with love?” Taako’s face, so close to Kravitz’s, scrunches up in discomfort.

“It’s snowing,” Kravitz replies, deadpan, and then smiles as Taako’s uncomfortable expression morphs into disgust.

Taako gets cold, is the thing. He will sacrifice for the sake of fashion, but he is constantly stealing Kravitz’s sweaters and tucking himself into blankets. It’s not a rare occurrence to come home to a couch piled with knitted afghans, Taako barely a lump underneath them. Kravitz would usually open a rift and bring them both home immediately to climb in bed.

But the world is blank and quiet tonight. And, despite the entrance he made, Kravitz has a question to ask.

He brushes a finger down the bracelets and threads his fingers through Taako’s as they chime. “Would you walk with me?”

“Would I –” Taako huffs. “It’s snowing.”

“We covered that already, yes.”

“Taako doesn’t do snow without good reason,” Taako says, and tucks his hands into Kravitz’s pockets. It brings his face pressing hot into Kravitz’s neck.

“It’s a new world to see. You love those, don’t you?”

Taako’s long-suffering sigh sends goosebumps shivering down Kravitz’s neck. “Already seen enough of ‘em, my man, but sure. You’re handsome and you’re asking. Taako’ll freeze his butt off for a walk.”

Kravitz smiles and disentangles himself to help Taako into his coat – long, purple, soft. It was a gift from Lup two Candlenights ago. “It won’t be long.”

“Better not be,” Taako mumbles as they make their way back up the aisle. “Risking my life for a walk in the snow, saved the multiverse and this is what I get…”

It’s a silent cold when they step outside – the kind that makes everything pause, that pockets the world and holds it still. For a few moments, the only sound is the whisper of Taako’s boots kicking snowdrifts aside.

Taako is the one to break the silence. “Okay, fine. It’s pretty.”

Kravitz hums in agreement without really thinking about it. “Reminds me of home.”

“Of the Astral Plane?”

Kravitz laughs. “Not really – it is cold there, I guess, but no. Of home. It’s one of the few memories I have from before, walking to get water out of the well before it froze over.”

Taako is quiet for a moment. Then he finally says, “That sounds shitty, my dude, gotta be honest.”

Kravitz huffs a laugh. “It wasn’t completely. I remember hot chocolate when I got back.”

Taako tucks himself more comfortably against Kravitz’s arm and kicks at another snow drift. “Must’ve been nice, coming back to a family.”

“Better than most things,” Kravitz replies quietly. Taako doesn’t often mention his time before the Institute. Occasionally he drops a small comment or a hint – always sad. Kravitz’s heart, old as it is, twinges to hear them. But as much as he wants to, he knows to let them go unremarked.

And, well, it’s not the perfect segue… but if he doesn’t say something now he’ll lose his nerve. “Taako?”

Taako pauses to look at him. There’s a glow over his face, cast by one of the new streetlights brought on by Lucas’s world-stealing. It paints the panes of his cheeks in bright gold. The shadows under his eyes look more pronounced. He is so beautiful Kravitz feels his heart stop.

“What do you think of making us a family? You and me.” The way Taako’s ears flick back makes Kravitz nervous, but he’s started now and he can’t stop. “I know you have Lup already and I would never want to intrude on that, ever, and Barry and Magnus and Merle – everyone that loves you so much and knows you so well, but I –” Kravitz pulls in a deep breath, trying to get air into his long-dead lungs. “I’d like to be your family too, I think. If you’ll have me. If you’re interested.”

Taako blinks. And is quiet for long enough that Kravitz feels his heart spiral down into his stomach. It’s too much. This was too much, too soon, and Kravitz is suddenly adding, “It’s okay if you’re not, though. I love things just the way they are, I love you, and I wouldn't –”

“Krav.”

Kravitz stops his messy, stumbling mouth. And Taako continues, tilting his head to the side, “What are you asking, exactly?”

In for a penny, in for a pound, they say. So as frosted air puffs from his mouth, Kravtiz bends down to one knee. The cold barely registers; he’s used to it, after all.

“I… Taako, I love you. I can’t imagine my existence without you, which is silly because I’ve been around a very long time and –” he takes another breath and watches it spiral out around him, pointedly looking everywhere but up. “I know nothing has been traditional between us, and I love that. I love you, did I say that already? And I was hoping that maybe you’d want to, well, somewhat untraditionally...” the velvet box is out of his pocket, popped open by numb fingers that have nothing to do with the weather. “Marry me?”

At the last words, Kravitz finally manages to lift his eyes enough to see Taako’s face. His eyes are wide, and Kravitz can’t tell if the light in them is reflection or tears. “Love?” he asks, and starts to get up. “Did I – oh, Taako, I didn’t mean to make you cry –”

“You are so dumb,” Taako interrupts, voice high, and then Kravitz’s mouth is full of his hair as Taako darts forward into a hug.

“Oh,” Kravitz says. And then, “Is that a yes?”

Taako pulls back and Kravitz feels all the places he’s missing as the cold hits his cheek. “Is that a – fuck, Bones, are you kidding? Gimme the thing –”

Taako’s hands are fumbling, and Kravitz is too lost to recognize what to do for a moment. “The – oh, the ring, I –” He opens the box again from where it is tucked in his hand and Taako lets out a shout of laughter.

“You didn’t –” Taako says delightedly, tugging the ring out of its cushion.

“I thought it would be appropriate,” Kravitz says, smiling a bit sheepishly. The pink stone glints in the streetlight, tourmaline cut and shining like a star. Maybe he should be embarrassed by the gesture. But Kravitz can’t feel anything but light and relief and such deep, impossible joy. He feels like he could fly. He watches Taako slip the ring on his finger and his body feels incandescent.

Until Taako laughs, “Uh, babe? Was gonna give you a shot at these lips but that’s tough when you’re ballin out.”

And Kravitz realizes he’s lost his physical form, now floating in front of Taako in an orb of light.

Immediately, he begins the process of stitching his body back together, building hands and eyes and hair. His heart, when he comes to, is pounding in a way it hasn’t since he was alive. “Sorry,” he says breathlessly, and then can’t get anything else out before Taako is kissing him.

“You are such a dork,” Taako mumbles after a minute, their faces still pressed together.

“Yes,” Kravitz agrees, catching Taako’s lips again.

“Can’t believe you got me a pink crystal ring, that is so tacky.”

“It is.” Kravitz presses a kiss to Taako’s nose, his eyes, his cheeks.

“Lup is going to lose her mind.”

“She is, I know.”

“You turned into a light ball! What the fuck!”

“That was… embarrassing, I admit.”

“Krav?” Taako is flushed, his eyes bright. Hair is falling out of his cap and brushing his cheeks, and the streetlight makes it shine a bright, burnished gold. “You’re kind of perfect.”

Kravitz lifts their hands together, bundles Taako’s up into his, and presses a kiss to his gloves. Everything is warm. Everything feels like sunlight. “You too, love.”

“Natch, Taako’s the best,” Taako replies, but his eyes are gleaming and he threads his hand through Kravitz’s.

Snow flutters down around them. Kravitz can’t help it – he runs his thumb, again and again, over the stone under Taako’s glove.

Their wedding will be a sensation, a show – or it will be nothing, an easy dinner, just for them. Taako will surprise him, he always does. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is quieter – the breakfasts and the late nights and the debates over scrolls to watch. All the spaces in between, the heartbeats he can now count. The soft warmth of feeling that this family is his future.

With Taako’s hand in his and snow falling light and buttery around them, Kravitz takes a breath and lets himself finally settle into the feeling of home.

#taz #taz balance #taakitz #my writing #it's just sometimes it snows and i miss people #so my brain says please write about love #and i say okay

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freakie-deakie · 4 years

Text

Lucas // How To: Hurt My Feelings

tumblr only allows 10 images per post so i had to use my transition images sparingly, i hope it doesn’t make the scene changes too awkward. hope you’re all doing well, sending lots of love!

Warnings: there’s nothing too serious, but there’s a mention of toxic family relations and insecurities about friendships

Masterlist

Read Part 2 Here: How To: Kill an Idea

Lucas x Reader (angst // 9.6k words); ft. stepbrother!Johnny

You were a being made up of words. You lived to think words, to write words, to read words, and to speak words. You were jack of all things debate and a master of sounding like a charming smartass. Your words were always chosen carefully, and because of this, your persuasive skills were deadly.

Lucas was a being of action. He moved as his spirit listed, and was often caught indulging in whatever sins his internal chaos prompted him that day. He built the world around him with his own two hands and lived for the sake of creating his own experiences within his own days. He hadn't an interest in the events of the world, nor the stories in it. You don't think he'd ever read a story in his life. Actually, you don't think he'd ever read.

Perhaps that was why the two of you fit together oh-so-well. He was the Yang to your Yin, the left to your right. Your relationship was a perfectly balanced chemical equation. He made a mess, and you cleaned up after him. You were a mess, and he cleaned you up.

Oh, but you can always get messier, can't you?

"Seriously, Y/N? When was the last time you ate?" Lucas folded his arms over his chest and leaned against your doorframe.

"I ate breakfast," you quipped softly, folding your legs up into your rolly chair. You'd been there for almost two days straight, but your project was finally starting to take shape.

"Oh yeah? And what did you eat?" You bit the inside of your cheek, giving him a guilty smile as you twidled your thumbs. "You can't live off of those damn health bars. Christ- Put your shoes on, we're going out."

"Wait, Yukhei, it's okay, I can just-"

"You have ten minutes to get ready before I carry you out of here on my shoulder," he warned before excusing himself to sit in your living room and wait for you.

Groaning, you moved the blanket from your lap and threw on a pair of sweats. You washed your face and brushed out your hair, and with two minutes to spare, you were slipping into your jogging shoes. "Lucas, are you ready?" you asked, stepping out of your bedroom. Oddly enough, he wasn't on that ugly black couch that he loved so much, nor was he in the kitchenette that fit so snuggly in the corner of the room. He wasn't by the window, nor with the plants on your fire escape. You stepped back to check the bathroom. Empty. "Yukhei?" you called out for him again.

Your heart jumped out of your chest at the sudden jolt of your door, followed by three sharp knocks.

"Y/N? I locked myself out..." Breathing out a steadying breath, you placed a hand over your heart. "Y/N?"

"Hang on a second, you big baby." You rolled your eyes and opened the door for him. "I thought you'd been abducted."

"Sorry babe, I had a call. But don't worry, nobody can abduct me when I carry around guns like these," he grinned, flexing his arms.

"I think I liked you better when you were missing." He scoffed. "But you have to promise me to never leave me without any answers. I'd have to hunt you down if you did."

"I'll never leave you, ever," he gleams, throwing an arm over your shoulder and guiding you out the door. You hummed, wrapping an arm around his waist and syncing your steps with his. "Besides, if I ever tried, you'd lock me in your apartment building's basement and I don't really wanna know what else is down there."

"You'd better not try to escape then," you snorted.

You weren't quite sure how you always managed to end up in such ungodly positions, but as long as you were both comfortable, you couldn't complain. However, at the moment, you were very uncomfortable, and the boy laying on top of you was getting an ear-full.

He'd simply barged into your bedroom, saw you laying on your stomach, and decided that you were the most comfortable matress around.

"Lucas, I have to pee."

"Do it, I dare you."

"Lucas, I can't breathe!"

"Then die."

"You are the-"

"Most wonderful person you ever could have hoped to even end up dating? I know. What do you want for dinner tonight? I'm thinking chicken. Thoughts?"

"I'll buy if you get off me," you groaned.

He perked up at that, finally rolling off of you and bouncing over to your closet. "We're gonna match," he said certainly, plucking a black T-shirt and skinny jeans off of their respective hangers and throwing them at you before going back to fish out the jean jacket and belt he'd bought you specifically for occasions such as these.

He rushed you along, ushering you out of your building quickly, excited to go to his favorite marketplace restaurant. Boarding the transit, he took your hand in his much larger one and turned to you to quietly ask if he could spend the night at your place to watch movies and "get frisky," earning a light slap on the wrist which only made him laugh.

You and Lucas were puzzle pieces that fit together. So for the life of you, you couldn't begin to understand why everything seemed to be falling apart.

"I just can't win against you, can I? You have too many debate trophies shoved up your ass!"

"I just-"

"Stop, Y/N. If you won't try to understand my side, we're done here."

"Lucas, I do understand, I just don't agree. And that's okay because we don't have to agree on everything."

"Yeah?" he huffed. "Well on this, we do."

"What do you want me to do? Fly home to (country) and tell my family that their daughter who managed to escape their victimized mindsets and emotional neglect and finally cut ties with them has a boyfriend who wants to meet them? I don't want you to meet them! I don't want you anywhere around them," your composure finally snapped, letting a tear roll down your cheek. You roughly wiped it away with the back of your sleeve.

"Oh, cut the shit, Y/N. You didn't want to introduce me to your 'toxic' best friend either, or your 'overly protective' brother; they turned out to be completely fucking normal. Maybe it's you that's the problem."

"You mean the beautiful best friend, Soomin, that cut me off after I wouldn't give you her number? Oh, and my brother, Johnny, who slept on my couch for a week after meeting you to make sure you weren't staying the night?"

"So I'm the one causing problems? Maybe if you were less insecure-"

"Insecure? Fine, I'll call Soomin and give her your number. And while I'm at it, I'll just ask Johnny to give my number out to all your frat brothers, since that's no big deal."

Lucas slammed his hand down on your island countertop. "Like hell you will. Look, I just want to meet your family. I'm not gonna ask them to move to Korea."

"Lucas, I'm thrilled that your family likes me so much because you're very close with them and that's important to you, but please don't make me contact my family. I don't want them in my life."

He stepped out that night without another word and remained silent for the rest of the week.

You felt like a vase that held flowers but had no water to give them; you were, on your own, too much of some things and not enough of others. Lucas's silent treatment felt like he tipped the scale by hopping off of his side and leaving you to fall.

"Y/N, listen to me," you whispered to yourself as you opened the refrigerator door. "You are a strong, independent woman and your life does not revolve around a boy." You reached for the fruit drawer and pulled out a peach. Fruit was a large part of your diet when you were sad; it was convenient because there was no meal prep. Uni-students like you didn't have time to cook anyways.

A buzzing sound from your counter pulled you from your thoughts. You wiped the peach juice off your chin with your sleeve and put the phone to your ear.

"Y/N? Do you have a minute?"

"Johnny? What's up tree-child?" You hear a soft chuckle over the line.

"Your overgrown boyfriend hasn't left his room since your little fight-"

"Johnny, you know what it was like for me back home. Your mom and my dad- you don't want to go back either, right? You know how bad it was. I shouldn't have to apologise for not wanting to go back."

Johnny sighed loudly over the line. "I'm not saying you have to apologise to him. I'm on your side, but neither of you are trying to fix the situation. So come to our frat, talk, make out, have angry make-up sex; I don't care what floats your boat, just come see him. You're the only person who I know has the ability to convince him to shower."

"See, dearest Johnny, that would mean I would have to shower. And right now, I'm not really feeling up to the task. So if that's all, then I'll be going-"

"Y/N, please? I'll make you dinner, and I'll pay for two- no, three of your textbooks next semester!"

"What do you get out of this, Seo? What bidding of yours will I be doing if I agree?"

"Can't I just reunite one of my best friends with my sister for the- yeah okay, I can't do this. There's a party next week and he's my wingman."

"Goodbye, Johnny."

You didn't know what to expect if you were to text Lucas first. Perhaps he was waiting on you to, or perhaps not, instead opting not to talk to you. However, you were a being of words, and you were desperately trying to sort through all of the Korean vocabulary that you knew in order to find the best words to give to him. You knew he deserved that, the best of you.

Y/N: Hey, can we talk?

You waited and waited, and thought yourself into hours of self torment. Was that text a mistake? Should you not have sent it? Could you have said something better?

After about an hour of stressing over the message and his lack of reply, you manage to pull yourself off of your couch, take yourself into the shower and sulk in its hot, suffocating water and steam.

And then you, naturally, went crawling back to your phone.

"Johnny, is your offer still up? Dinner and textbooks and shit?" Damn your unusually shaky voice, underused in the time you'd spent away from your significant other.

"Y/N? You sound distressed, is everything okay?"

"I don't know how to take care of myself," you admitted without an ounce of emotion in your tone, only growing your stepbrother's concerns. "You know, you're the only person that has checked in on me since our fight? I'm the one in the wrong, and everyone knows it... I need him, I need to apologise."

You hear something clatter over the line. "Now, hold on Y/N. You don't sound like you're thinking straight. I'm all for you guys patching things up, but not to get back into our good graces."

"Johnny, I'm alone. He's the only person that's ever made an effort to distract me from that."

"Hey, wait, you aren't alone. You have all of us. We're all here whenever you need us, not just him."

"John, I'm either your sister or his girlfriend. The guys in your frat don't want to be friends with me, and that's okay. But I want to hang on to what I've got so I'm coming over to fix-"

Your brother cuts you off with a groan. You don't see it, but he sets his afternoon bowl of cereal to the side and runs his hand through his hair. "Hang on a damn minute. I'll be to your apartment in ten minutes. Please, stay there."

"But John-"

"Stay there."

He cursed as soon as he hung up the call, finally noticing the stares he'd been receiving from the others in the kitchen. They'd watched you slowly unravel his composure until he was rushing to pour the rest of his precious Captain Crunch down the garbage disposal. All for his endearing concern for his stepsister.

"Who was that?" his closest friend, a broad shouldered boy by the name of Jaehyun asked.

Johnny paused, looking back at his friends. "My sister doesn't sound like she's feeling very well. She's pretty torn up about- well, you know."

"Can we help? I haven't seen Y/N in ages," Haechan commented, thinking back to the last time he'd had a chance to hang out with you. It must've been the night you joined them for a Smash competition. He remembered that you were really bad at it- or rather, not as experienced as his fraternity brothers who maybe spent a little too much time practicing.

"I honestly don't really know what's going on, so maybe it's best if I go alone."

Haechan and Jaehyun share a look. "Can you tell her to drop by to see us sometime?"

"Sure will," he agrees before slipping into his shoes and heading out the door. He was quick to get to the bus stop, knowing it'd be leaving within minutes.

When the doors to the bus opened, he took note of only one person stepping off. A pretty little girl with features that told any onlooker that she was Japanese. Her hair was lighter than his by a few shades, locks of caramel resting gently on her shoulders, the top layers collected in a little white bow and the back of her head which matched the flowy white v-neck she was dressed in; jeans and white tennis shoes paired to match.

She was a figure of beauty and grace. She offered him a small smile which would haunt him in his dreams that night. Had he not had prior engagements, he would have spent more time drinking her in as she walked down the sidewalk in the direction from which he had come. The gleam off of her pearl earrings blinded him momentarily, and suddenly he remembered that he was on a mission: a mission to get to you and remind you of your self worth.

When you cracked your door, an arm poked through, attached to a bag of goodies.

"When's the last time you ate?" Johnny asked, still not pushing his way into your space. "I brought ramen and cookie dough. I figured we could do with a night in."

You opened the door wider and lead him into the living room. It was a mess, to say the least. A nice collage of wrappers and tissues lay across the floor, the occasional soda can making things interesting. The dishes in your sink were stacked as high as they could go, and unopened letters lay strewn across your coffee table. Your home had become a perfect embodiment of how you felt.

"Y/N..." he said, looking around at the state of things.

"I know, I'll clean up later," you answered, tucking yourself back in to your spot on the couch.

"I'll help you tonight," he reassures you, setting the plastic bag on your counter and taking out two styrofoam cups filled with dry noodles.

"You didn't need to come, Johnny." The look in your eyes told him otherwise. Maybe he wasn't the best older brother in the world, but he could tell that you needed someone right now and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to do his best to help you.

"I know," he soothes. "I came for me. You were scaring me with some of the things you said and I needed to make sure that you were okay for my own sanity. Do you want beef or chicken?"

Episodes of Sword Gai play lowly in the background, a low hum of a language that neither of you understood. He helped you pick up around your house and clean up your living space. He helped you make cookies, and he ate his fair share of them. Your brother, your closest companion since you were young, sat with you all night and talked. The weight of your words though, it was heavy on his chest.

"Y/N, we've always only had each other. We practically fled a country together. You know that you and I are the first and last people on this planet, right? I took care of you back in (country) and I'll take care of you here."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "I was your scared little sister who came chasing after you. You deserved to have your own life and live it the way that you wanted. I followed you to Korea, and once again I'm your burden."

"Y/N, you're not a burden. I'm glad you came to my University. The closer you are, the easier I can protect you."

"You shouldn't have to protect me though. You introduced me to your friends because I couldn't make any on my own. Then I met Lucas, and you helped him get into NCT and now everyone there has to deal with me-"

"Y/N, they aren't 'dealing' with you. They actually like you. Not because they have to, but because you're fun to be around."

"I don't know..." You didn't want to outright complain that you hadn't even received a text from any of the members of NCT since your fight with the Chinese boy. You didn't want to admit how badly if hurt to realize that they were his friends before they were yours. Now, not only was there a hole in your heart from your boyfriend ripping himself away, but also the growing cavity from the quiet abandonment of your friends. And now, your brother who'd done so much for you your whole life had to take care of you once again.

"What're you thinking about?" He watches your gaze flicker from the TV to his eyes and back.

"I'm willing to admit that Lucas was right-"

"I don't think he was. And neither do you. He has to respect that family is a taboo subject for some of us. Hell, he knows that I don't like it whenever he brings it up. You can work things out without taking all the blame for this, which would be outright unjust."

"I shouldn't have been so sensitive though," you respond honestly.

"You know I hate taking sides-"

"You do not, Seo," you giggle. His face visibly brightens at the sound.

"Yeah, your right, I love taking sides. I'm definitely on your side about the argument. But maybe he's thought about it too. Maybe you should let him explain how he feels about it now. And of course, I'll be sure to give you my opinions afterwards."

"I guess," you offer him an unsure smile. "I want him back in my life. I want everyone else back in my life too. I guess losing him and then losing touch with my- your friends made me realize that maybe I'm rather expendable." Your chuckle was dry, barely making it out of your throat.

In Johnny's eyes, not only Lucas, but his friends as well had been the ones lacking; yet somehow, you thought it was your own lacking that had let them slip away. How dare they hurt you like this? How dare they make you feel unworthy of them?

"I've always known," you continued, "that they were his friends- and yours. I guess I should start trying to make friends in class if we don't get this worked out, huh?"

"Maybe you should talk to them about that before you go trying to replace your friend group. But you're gonna work it out. No one's leaving you. You should see how desperate he looks right now, waiting for you to come marching into our house and demand to see him. He's got too much love in that big heart of his and now that he can't shower you in it, he looks like his purpose in life has been taken away."

Johnny was always there to take care of you, and you felt you could never repay him for that. His advice and soothing words were invaluable to you. Your brother's compassion was the most precious thing in the world to you, especially in your moments of need.

Of course you made an attempt to call Lucas before you showed up on the fraternity doorstep, but if you wanted something to change, for once you were going to have to do something yourself. You had to be able to move your own two feet without him.

Your three sharp knocks were answered by the only Thai resident in the household, a slender boy with cropped bangs and sharp features. Ten was quick to pull you inside, wrapping his arms around your torso and resting his head on your shoulder.

"Buddha has sent us an Angel; we're saved!"

"That bad, huh?"

Ten let you out of his bear hug and looked you in the eye with a look of (semi-) mock disgust. "Y/N, it's been fourteen days since he came home crying and he's showered like twice since then. Mark and I have been trying to coax him out of his room for days. Please, you've got to do something!"

"Challenge accepted," you said, smiling at the boy in front of you. He always knew how to make your day a little bit brighter.

Your heart grew heavy when you remembered that his concerns weren't for you. They were for his real friend, and you could appreciate that.

You tried to shove those thoughts down in your chest as you stepped around him and started on the long trek to your boyfriend's room.

The couch at the end of his bed was a sacred place for videogames and movie nights, a large flat screen just in front of it. His desk was often messy and usually your problem to clean. His chair was a space for studying and the occasional newcomer into his room, a comfortable space to be welcomed. The carpet was a place you liked to lay when you began to think that mattresses were just a little bit too mundane; then suddenly, you'd think the most interesting thing in the world was the orange peel texture on the white ceiling. On the nightstand was an alarm clock, a charger, and a picture of you - and in it was a bottle of lotion and a stash of jewelry you'd given him over time. Even his dresser meant something to you. You'd picked it out with him at a flea market and agreed to split the cost because it was just too beautiful to pass up. The bottom drawer was full of your clothes and he always reminded you that the dresser would one day live in a space with the two of you, together.

His room was a box of memories, and his bed held the most prized of them all. It's where you laid and let yourself be vulnerable with Lucas. It's where your lives came together, and your stories intertwined, slipping from your lips and knotting together like your limbs under the ceiling fan. Promises of the future, swears of the past, and a comforting and cozy present.

You didn't think before you opened the door; it was practically an instinct now. It wasn't necessarily a shared space, but it's a space that's always been offered to you. You'd never imagined that there would be a time when you weren't welcomed there.

It caught you off guard, the body underneath his. A petite girl with Carmel colored hair that was stuck to her damp skin. Your boyfriend moved on top of her, rocking back and forth against her body, eyes trained on hers.

You quietly shut the door and slipped back down the hallway. Doyoung, exiting his room, stopped your frantic attempt at escape from the house, taking in your wide eyes and seemingly disorganized composition.

"Y/N? What's wrong? Wh-"

"I'm okay," you swore, stepping around him. "I'm just not feeling well, I'm gonna step out for a bit."

"Oh," he says, watching you scamper down the steps. "We have medicine if you need it."

You didn't answer. Your priority was to get out of the front door as quickly and as quietly as possible, not even sparing a glance at the boys in the living room who had greeted you earlier.

You walked like a woman with a purpose, fast and in a straight line, away from the house. You didn't bother waiting on the bus, instead you walked right past the bus stop and started towards your home where you would let your composure fall.

Lucas moved one of the light colored strands of hair from Yuri's face. He was propped up on an elbow, admiring the beautiful girl in front of him. She was someone he'd know for a while, having been in his Sociology class the year prior. He'd seen her every now and again, met with her, fucked her, and left her in the morning. The girl with almost orange hair who always wore white was illusive to all but him. Wanted was the girl who always wore her graduation gift from her grandmother proudly, a pair of pearl earrings.

Normally, he wouldn't have allowed the sweet Japanese girl to stay with him after sex, cuddled to his chest, her bare skin against his. It hurt him too much to think that she wasn't the one who was supposed to be in his arms, and as a constant reminder he was always burned by the temperature of her skin. She was hot, a fire that lit in his stomach and yet left his heart cold.

Yuri blinked up at him, stirring from her soft slumber. "Is it nighttime?" she yawned out. He nodded and shushed her, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin of her cheek. He brought their lips together for a kiss that felt so wrong yet so right. Part of him didn't want to pull away and crash back down to reality, the other part of him knew that the girl needed to leave while no one was awake, lest his relationship with you be damaged.

He pulled away first, standing to dress himself in the sweats and Tee that he'd discarded some time ago. He helped Yuri sit up then dress herself. He placed a chaste kiss her forehead and lead her to his bedroom door, expecting her to find her own way out of the house. But before the door closed, he locked eyes with the last person he wanted to see him sending off his rendezvous into the night.

Johnny did not hesitate to put his hands on the door (rather loudly) to prevent it from closing.

"What's a girl doing in your room so late, Lucas?"

Lucas tried to meet Johnny's eyes, but he couldn't hold your brother's fierce gaze. "Studying?"

"Oh yeah? How'd you two get so sweaty while you were studying. You must've been cramming pretty hard." Johnny fold his arms over his chest just as the color of pink on Lucas's bed catches his attention. He stared at it for a moment before the shape registered in his mind. "And how did leaving her thong with you help either of you read a fucking textbook?"

At this point, Johnny has a fist full of Lucas's shirt and is backing him against a wall. Lucas tries to remove Johnny's hand, but only gets shoved harder into the hard surface, pictures rattling on both sides of his head, the picture of your joint trip to the fair the year prior falls to the ground and shatters.

Taeyong comes rushing in from his room, roughly awoken by his neighbor's commotion.

"Johnny? Yukhei? It's one in the morning, what the hell is going on?"

The intense gaze between the two doesn't falter for a moment. "Yeah, Yukhei, what the hell is going on?" When he doesn't receive an answer, he lifts him off the wall and pushes him back against in with one harsh movement. "Don't ever talk to my sister again." Johnny releases his shirt and Lucas's eyes widen.

"Y/N-" Lucas breathes out, grabbing for your brother's arm and stumbling over his words. "Please don't tell Y/N."

"Ya know, Lucas, she just recently told me that she felt like no one cared about her. Her friends were yours, and while you were out of her reach, so we're they. How could you leave her with nobody?"

Taeyong gasped at that. He considered you a rather close friend and cherished the bond he had with you. He understood where you were coming from but it still hurt that you would misread his intentions as befriending a friend of a friend.

Lucas pulled harder at Johnny's arm, keeping him in place as he tried to turn away. Taeyong took this as his que to step between the two and separate them.

"Please don't tell her," Lucas tried. "Please, let me be the one to tell her. She deserves that much."

Your phone had been dead for two days and you hadn't bothered to even look for a charger. You focus your energy on your Korean history essays and devote your time to working on your computer.

Little did you know, this was sparking panic at the NCT dorms. No one, not even your brother, had been able to contact you. Finally, Johnny decided that he had to check on you (along with the ever persistent presence of his younger friend, Haechan, who demanded that he be taken to see you), taking the public transit to your apartment on the northwest border of the campus.

His knocking earned a prompt "fuck off" from your living room, so at the very least they were sure you were still alive.

"Y/N, open the damn door." You didn't even bother moving from your cozy place on the couch. "For fuck's sake- do you know how long we've all been trying to contact you. Let me fucking in or I'll break the door down."

"I'd like to see you try," you mumbled before a solid 'thud' sounded from your entrance. "John, what the fuck?"

"I said let me in. I gotta make sure you're okay so don't make this difficult."

"For the love of fuck, I'm fine, go away."

Thud.

"Let me in."

Thud.

"Okay, okay stop! You're gonna make my neighbors hate me."

You threw your door open to be greeted by, not one, but two friendly faces with murderous intentions in their eyes.

"You can't just drop off the fucking radar, you had everyone scared shitless that something had happened to you," Haechan snapped before bringing you into a warm embrace.

"I'm sorry," you sighed, wrapping your arms back around him. It felt nice to be in someone's arms again, even if it wasn't the touch you longed for. "I've just had a hard few days."

Johnny, who had already pushed his way past you, was beginning to calm himself down like a passing storm.

"What happened, Princess?" Haechan tried. You cringed and he shrugged, still holding you to his chest.

"Lucas and a girl-" Your eyes teared up and the words lodged themselves in your throat. "He's cheating on me."

Haechan's eyes widen and he presses your head to his chest rather forcefully so that he could discreetly pass Johnny a look of sheer confusion. It'd been the hot topic as the frat, but as no one had been able to contact you since they'd made the discovery themselves, he assumed no one had been able to tell you yet. "Y/N, Princess, what do you mean?" he spoke slowly, unsure of how he wanted to frame his question.

"I went to," you hiccupped, "went to see him and there," you hiccupped again, "there was a girl," and again, "underneath him." Haechan's grip tightens around you. The look he's giving Johnny now is one that would've scared armies away from battle. The look on his face was nothing in comparison to the emotion written on Johnny's own features. The storm had returned, the haze of anger clouding both his eyes and his judgements.

Johnny moved towards the door much slower than he'd come barging through it. Like a man marching off to war, he kept his eyes straight ahead and left the same way he'd came. "Both of you, stay here." The door slams shut behind him, mimicking the sound of a gunshot.

Haechan keeps you in his embrace for a few minutes, rocking you back and forth after the tensions in his muscles began to dissipate. He shushed you until you stopped crying, urging you to get your breathing back under control.

"I'm so sorry you had to see that," the silver haired boy mumbled into your hair before sperating himself from you. "Come sit down. Let's talk about this for a minute."

"That's okay, Haechan. I appreciate it but-" you sniffle.

"Y/N, this is an important talk we're about to have, okay? Listen to me very carefully, and after we talk this out, I'm going to order food from any place in this district that you want." You shook your head but did nothing to interrupt him. "We all just found out a couple of days ago. That's part of the reason everyone has been trying to reach you. Johnny caught him, but he agreed to let Lucas tell you. But because no one has been able to get to you, those two have been raising hell at the frat. That's why it is very important that we can get in contact with you, do you understand? If we have things we really need to tell you, your phone needs to be on so we can get to you. We were all worried that something really, really bad had happened to you."

"So it's true? I'm not being dramatic? Lucas really..."

Haechan nodded, pulling you down to sit with him on the couch and tuck you under his arm. "But listen, I know it's aweful. Johnny is probably going to put Lucas in his place right now. So you and I are going to stay here for now, and talk and eat dinner, and get out everything that you're feeling right now. And soon, that boy isn't going to mean anything to you because he doesn't deserve to take up your precious time or energy. Okay? Now what do you want to eat?" He rubbed your back, patiently waiting for your answer. He would move at your pace for the rest of the night.

"Where is he?" Mark and Taeyong are quick to intercept Johnny's trail, desperately trying to avoid whatever chaos was sure to ensue this hour.

"Don't you think it's a little early to start throwing punches this evening?" Taeyong tries.

Ten enters from the kitchen, a bowl of cheap ramen in his hands, Lucas trailing behind him, rocking the college boy couture: no shirt and sweatpants. Ten had by no means forgiven him within the short span of two days, especially not when he picked plenty of the recent fights with Johnny which promised a rather annoying thrill of excitement every night, but Ten knew that in the depths of his heart he felt sympathy and compassion for Lucas. As frustrated as he was with the younger boys, he couldn't abandon him when he had so few people left on his side anymore. Who else would take care of him if not Ten?

Lucas stopped in his tracks when he saw Johnny, slowly handing off his bowl to Ten to be sat on the coffee table. There was a feral beast inside Johnny that Lucas could see right now, and he was afraid that any sudden movements would invoke a violent response.

"I thought you'd be gone longer," Lucas admits. He had avoided the living room recently, especially when he knew Johnny would be home.

"I felt suddenly compelled to come right back and have a nice long chat with you."

Lucas tensed, subconsciously preparing to be thrown into a fight at any second.

"Wait, where's Haechan?" Mark ask, noting that the younger boy did not come in with him.

"He's comforting my sister. He's doing what I should be doing. But I trust him to handle her with care. I trust him to take care of her tonight while you and I have that little chat." He eyes Lucas, reading every sign that Lucas's body is posting, watching as he takes in those words and deflates a bit.

"You guys told her?"

"Didn't have to. She walked in on you screwing another girl." The room falls silent until Ten begins to choke on his ramen. Everyone looks at him as he turns away to hide his wide-eyed expression.

"Ten?" Taeyong asks. "Do you know something?"

Ten slowly turns around to face the group. "Do you remember that night when we were sitting here when she came over, and then she went running out the door a few minutes later?"

Taeyong's face falls. "Oh my God. Is that really the last time any of us saw her?"

"Fuck, and we didn't even know she needed help."

"Doyoung said she wasn't feeling well; he tried to stop her."

"That was almost a week ago, though," Ten thinks aloud. Everyone's eyes fall on Lucas, the boy they'd momentarily forgotten. His eyes are glassy, his composure fallen. There's a beat before anyone dares to ask about the elephant in the room. "How many times did it happen?"

Lucas opens and closes his mouth like a fish. "Did she really see? She saw me with Yuri?"

"Lucas, how many times did it happen?" Johnny's shoulders are squared. He steps towards the boy but is stopped my Taeyong's firm grasp on his arm.

"A lot," he admits as the first tear makes its dash for his chin. "A lot more than I should have. A lot more than I ever wanted to." As wet as his entire face was becoming, he dare not move to wipe away the shame. "I love her. Oh my God, I love her and she'll never want to see me again."

Mark looks between his two best friends seeing nothing but desperation and fury - two ample types of passion for you. "Why'd you do it then?" His words were soft. He didn't want to stir the pot anymore, but he wanted to know.

"I don't know. I love her. Why would I do that to her?" Johnny's composure cracks but doesn't break. He doesn't take off his armor. He was still there, at his own frat, in his own living room to challenge his former mate.

"She was the reason you got into this house in the first place. If she didn't care about you, I would have never helped you get in."

"Johnny stop." Taeyong pulls back on Johnny's arm, reigning him in and telling him to stand down.

"Why? That's how she feels. She feels like she's less than you. I think it should be the other way around. She think everyone only cares about her because they care about you. I think she should realize that you wouldn't even be here without her. How do you even have the balls to cheat on her after what she's done for you?"

"I didn't want to!" Lucas defends.

"Then why did you do it?"

"I don't know! I don't know! I don't know if it was because I was bored, or if I was mad at her one day. I don't know how it started. When I started to see Yuri, it just felt like a small break but then we started to mess around more often. I don't know how it started, but I wish it never had. I never wanted Y/N to have to see that."

In one swift movement, Johnny yanked himself out of Taeyong's grasp and nailed one shot right below Lucas's eye before the other three men in the room jumped in to separate the two as much as the could.

"You wish you hadn't done it because you got caught?"

Lucas holds on to his face but managed to stand up straight. "I wish I hadn't done it because I regret hurting her. It would break my heart to see her with anyone else - I can't imagine how it must've felt for her to see that. So yes, I regret her finding out."

Johnny struggles against the restraint of his friends. "Do you regret doing it? Did you ever question yourself while you were screwing around behind her back?"

Lucas didn't answer, instead he walked away. He gather up the few shards of his dignity that he had left, and locked himself in the first story bathroom for the rest of the night.

Haechan made you put your phone on the charger. He warned you that there would be messages from just about everyone in his frat but that you didn't have to open them all immediately. He stayed up with you that night to help you with both your assignments and your heartache, sending you to bed at a decent time (before two in the morning). He sat in your living room, waiting for any news from the dorms before he went back. He ended up falling asleep on your couch.

When morning came, he was abruptly awoke from a sweet dream by the rattle of the door and three sharp knocks. Annoyed, he pushed himself up and went to check who could possibly be so irritating this early in the morning.

He cracked the door to find a not-so-hot Wong Lucas on the doorstep.

"Haechan?" Lucas asked, sniffling quietly. Haechan shut the door, ready to turn back and resume his slumber on the couch before three more knocks stopped him.

He cracked the door again. "She's sleeping, knock it off."

"Haechanie?" You ask yawning as you wonder to his side. You didn't know that he'd been there all night and came to check the door, not expecting anyone to beat you to it. "Who's at the door?"

"No one, Princess. Go back to sleep."

"Princess?" Lucas questioned, clearly uncomfortable with the younger boy calling you by a pet name.

"Lucas?" Your mind wakes up a bit when you register his voice.

"Y/N," he sighs in relief.

"Haechan," Haechan blurts before shutting the door and promptly turning to you. "Y/N, don't let him in. He's probably here to convince you to take him back and you need to remember what we talked about last night. He made you feel like a small person, don't go crawling back to him-"

"I'm not letting him in, don't worry." You wrap your blanket tighter around yourself. "Why are you still here anyways?"

"I never got the all clear to go home," he mumbled, pulling you back into your bedroom. Three sharp knocks sounded once again at your door. Neither of you moved to answer it, instead you let Haechan lay you down in your bed and tuck you into your comforter before he crawled on top of your covers and dozed back off at the foot of your bed.

Lucas left the flowers and food in front of your door, sending Haechan a text to let him know that they were there (just in case you'd already blocked his number). Pulling his jacked tighter around him, he left the building in search of something to make himself feel better after a night of high emotions.

He found himself at the coffee house down the street from your residence. As he waited on his order, he sat at a booth and pondered ways to get you to, if nothing else, accept his apology. With everything in him, he wanted you back. He wanted to forget the stupid fight, he wanted to forget the other girl - he wanted you. That wasn't fair though, and he knew it. It especially wasn't fair that while you were with him, you felt small compared to him. It wasn't fair that he made you feel like nobody cared about you more than they did him. It wasn't fair that your stepbrother had to be the one to voice your concerns for you; you had never felt comfortable telling Lucas about your deepest insecurities when he was supposed to be the one to get you past them. He was only beginning to realize that he hadn't been there for you the way that you needed him to be - the way that you had been for him.

"Johnny is it true that Y/N thinks we don't like her?" Jungwoo asks, placing himself between both Johnny and Jaehyun on the couch.

Johnny sighed. "She thinks that you guys don't like her, but that you're all too nice to say anything. She thinks that because she's my sister, you guys are forced to spend time with her."

"But I like spending time with her," the younger whines.

"I know," Johnny answers simply. "She just," he inhales through his teeth, "doesn't have a lot of super close relationships. Actually, it was really only me and..." He eyes the staircase. "Can you blame her for having trust issues, though?" he asks rhetorically, more towards himself than anybody else.

"How can we show her we care about her? Like, genuinely?" Jungwoo asks, his simple yet quick thought process spitting out one debacle after another.

"I dunno, Woo. I really don't know. Maybe try to text her more? Maybe check on her every now and again?" Johnny thinks to a moment how much of his private conversation with you he wants to share. He determines that no true friendship deals in lies. "She wanted to apologise to Lucas for the fight they had a few weeks ago. She was willing to be wrong in her principles if it meant she could have that one deep connection back. She said no one had really contacted her since they'd started fighting. She said she felt alone."

Jungwoo's eyes swelled up to the size of saucers. Had he really been so neglectful? Had they all?

"I'm not telling you this to make you feel guilty. She'll never be honest about her emotions, though. She told me that if things didn't work out with Lucas, she would have to start trying to make new friends in class."

"Would she really replace us like that?"

"To her, it's not replacing something if you never really had it."

"She wouldn't even try to talk to us?"

Johnny shook his head. "That's what I'm saying. I wasn't going to tell you that, I don't want you guys to feel bad about it. But if I didn't say something, you'd never know how she felt."

Jaehyun, who'd kept his quiet so far, finally spoke up. "Well I hope she's accepting visitors. We've clearly left her to deal with her problems alone for too long."

"Let's go after breakfast," Johnny suggests, nearly being cut off by the ring of his phone. He excuses himself from the living room to answer it. "Hello? Y/N? What's up? We were just talking about you."

He doesn't see it, but you cringe a little at that. "Uh, hey, are you busy right now? Should I call you back another time?"

As off put as Johnny is by your tone, he doesn't question it. "For my adoring sister? I'm never to busy for you."

You wonder if he was genuinely not doing anything or not. "Really, we can talk later if-"

"Y/N, I'm not doing anything, what's going on?" The line is quiet for a moment. A sickening moment.

"I think I'm gonna transfer back home." Your brother feels his stomach drop. "I've been thinking about it for a while now. I just think it might be the better option for me. I don't know many people here on campus, I struggle to keep up with my Korean classes. I just think it's time I stop following you around like a lost puppy, ya know?" The line goes silent as you wait for his response. "Hello?" You wait. "John?"

"No." His answer is simple and definite.

"What do you mean 'no?'"

"I mean you're not leaving just because you're insecure. You and I both know you're doing wonderfully in your classes this semester. Why would you leave that behind? Because a boy cheated on you? Because you think no one wants to care about you? You're not leaving Korea."

"I wasn't asking. I was just letting you know." Johnny feels his heart break for you.

"On purpose! I care about you on purpose. We all care about you on purpose. Why do you keep trying to take yourself away from us?"

"You shouldn't have to care-"

"You think it's up to you if I care about you or not? That's not your decision. And it's not your decision whether or not the rest of NCT cares for you either. Why are you so hard headed?" Johnny groans loudly into the mic.

"I'm not enough of anything to be cared about."

"Shut up." He promptly hung up and grabbed his jacket.

Your tiny apartment wasn't really made to accommodate many people at once, but the five overgrown boys standing on your doorstep pushed their way into your apartment and made it work.

"Let's take a vote," is the first thing out of your stepbrother's mouth as soon as he crosses the threshold. "All in favor of Y/N transferring say 'aye.'" A silence falls over the boys. "All opposed say no."

"No," Jungwoo is the first to speak.

"No," Jaehyun is quick to follow.

"No," Ten says sternly.

"No," Taeyong adds.

"You have been unanimously voted to keep your ass in Korea and the court rules in favor of putting a bounty on you if you try to escape."

"Wait, wait, wait," you finally get out. "This isn't a democracy; your vote is irrelevant."

"Y/N, why do you want to leave so badly?" Ten asks, crossing his arms and leaning against your island.

"I have to learn to take care of myself. I can't depend on Johnny or Lucas to do that for me anymore."

"Is this really what you think is best for you?" Jaehyun asks, a tinge of guilt in his words.

"I don't know, I guess we'll find out in five weeks when the semester ends in December."

Lucas pressed his palms into his eyes, temporarily making himself see stars. It was cold, a thin layer of snow covering the ground and buildings outside. There was a blanket thrown over his shoulders but it did nothing for the morbid freeze that so deeply effected his mood.

It was midnight when he woke up. Really, he no longer had a desire to eat, and he couldn't make himself sleep anymore lest he grow physically sick. He was left to wallow in his thoughts as he stared out his window, watching the snow fall so peacefully.

"Did I do this?" He asks himself. "She's leaving because of me? Was it me who made her feel so small compared to everyone else? Was it me who made her feel so small compared to Yuri?"

He'd stopped seeing her, his fling. He came to realize that there was a hole in his heart that she could never fill. When he had you, perhaps Yuri was a fun toy to play with on the side. When you were stripped away from him and his sense of comfort was taken from him, he no longer wanted to play with her.

He tried not to contact you. He didn't deserve your time - but he wanted it.

He found himself standing outside of your apartment at one in the morning on a freezing December night. Public transport, if it even ran in this weather, had been closed for the night. There were no students wondering the campus either. He braved the elements alone.

Three sharp knocks. They weren't particularly loud. If you were asleep, he wanted you to remain asleep. But if you weren't, he needed to see you. He wanted to hold you, and kiss you, and love you; he needed to see you. You weren't his toy, you weren't his game - you were his survival, his comfort, his energy, his breath.

"Lucas? What are you wearing? It's snowing out there, are you crazy?"

"Please don't leave."

"Isn't it a little late in the night to be talking about college transfers?"

"Please don't leave me."

You'd seen Lucas cry about a lot of things. For such a physically built man, he was very emotional. He cries when he stubs his toe. He cries when he sees a dead animal on the road. He cries when he laughs to hard. He cries when he's drunk and misses you, no matter how close you might be. He cries over a plethora of movies from sad romcoms to cheesey action movies. Never have you ever seen Lucas sob. He was hysterical and unfiltered, and still in the middle of the hallway.

"Come in, Lucas. It's okay, come in." He steps inside, wiping his runny nose of his sleeve.

"Please don't leave me," he repeats. "I'll be better, I'll do better. I know you deserve so much more than me but please let me be selfish and keep you."

"You'll be better without me," you reassure.

Lucas out himself on his knees in front of you, his hand reaching out unsteadily to hold yours. "Please, Y/N. Please. I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry. If I could take it all back, I would. I swear I would. I hate myself for ruining what we had."

"It's okay, Lucas." You cradled his head to your waist and shushed him, letting his arms wrap around your legs. "It's okay. I wasn't enough and that's okay. You needed something else, that's okay. I wish I would have know, sure. I wish maybe you would have told me that I wasn't enough, but I understand why you did it."

"No, no, Y/N. No, that's not right at all. You were perfect - too perfect, and I wasn't enough of a man to cherish that. I'm not a man without you. I'm a scared little boy. Y/N, please, I love you."

You shush him and run your fingers through his hair until he calms down a bit.

"Lucas?" You ask softly. He hums in response. "Did we ever break up?" You feel his entire body tighten around you as he tensed. He pressed his face harder against your abdomen and cries harder."I'm not going to end it with you," you sigh, "I can't live on my own, you know that better than anyone. I'm so tired of being alone. I need you too."

"I don't have the words to describe you. I'm trying, but I don't know how to tell you what I feel right now."

"Then don't tell me in words."

"You know, I have really hated your life decisions lately." Johnny quips from the driver's seat. "I hate that you're studying abroad for an entire semester. I detest that you got back with your ex, and I am repulsed by the fact that you're wearing sandals in December. Your decisions just suck."

"But I'm making them," you smile at him. "It's only a few months, I'll be back from Bordeaux before you know it."

"I'm glad you're going to France instead of going home. For a minute there, I thought you'd really gone off the deep end."

"Thank you for talking me down from that."

"I really wouldn't have let you go, you know. I would not be driving you to the airport if I wasn't one hundred percent sure that you're going to France."

"Thank you."

"We're going to miss you, Y/N. All of us, we really are." You thank him and offer a warm smile.

"Are you sure you can take care of Lucas while I'm gone? Without killing him?"

Something serious flashes in Johnny's eyes for a second. "I will never see him the same. I hate that you forgave him. But it's your life, and I support you."

"He and I both had to change a lot over the last couple of months. He had to learn to cherish someone that he so often took for granted. He knows now what he did to me, he's made effort to change and I've forgiven him. I had to learn to cherish the people in my life too. I had to learn how to accept that I'm cared for. No body is perfect, but both of us are trying to be good."

"If you've both changed so much, are you still both the perfect opposites?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. I don't think I'm the same person I was before the fight."

"Oh yeah? What about him?"

"Hardly." Johnny hummed in acknowledgement. "I think maybe, he's the word now. He's an idea, an emotion. It's my turn to be the action. I get to live my life for me, now."

"You've always been strong," Johnny adds, pulling into the airport parking garage. "I'm glad you finally realized it."

"I'll be back in June," you remind. "I'll come back stronger than I've ever been before. I'll be able to do things for myself."

"We'll all be waiting for you. Six months?"

"Six months."

"I can't wait to meet you again in six months."

#lucas #wong yukhei #nct #taeyong #johnny #mark #ten #lee #angst #smut #fluff #oneshot #series #x reader #imagine #reaction #jungwoo #kim #kpop

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jtrbluv · 4 years

Text

shutterbug | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, unbearable but relatable tiger parents

request: Jungkook,, one shot,, 38 + 40 please 😊😊 @asiivnc

“you leave whenever you feel like it.” & “don’t apologize if you don’t mean it.”

A/N: sheesh, i have not posted in a hot minute! i’ve been trying to work on this single request throughout quarantine and it really only came down to these last few days where i literally had a spike of inspo and drive and well,, ideas LOL. i considered an alternate angstier ending but i am a self-indulgent mofo who doesn’t like to make myself cry even though i’m sure i cried while writing this at least once (maybe twice). there is so much jk content on my blog i wanna set aside more time to write for other members from now on until i’m satisfied! regardless, thank you @asiivnc for requesting this and sorry for the wait luv, hopefully this can make up for it !!

Jungkook was known to be heavily passionate and fully invested in whatever his life had revolved around at that moment. As a film/photography major, as well as a man that just had a strange knack for being naturally adept at whatever was thrown at him, he incessantly poured his utmost efforts into his works. You weren’t any different, as you held just as much significance in his life as the way his serotonin levels would skyrocket as soon as his fingertips touched his precious camera.

Not to be self-absorbed, but you always thought of yourself as his muse. Or befittingly for his sake, the subject of the photo that you would give the title ‘his lover’.

You were so indisputably sure that you loved the boy and even moreso that he felt the same. While being so accustomed to his own nurturing ways and devotion to you and the reciprocated energy on your part, the bone-crushing weight of college hindered all and didn’t give a single fuck about anyone or anything.

Carrying the begrudging burden of having to succeed because he didn’t take the traditional lawyer/doctor career route, was always at the forefront of his mind. Likewise, for fuck’s sake, he nearly got disowned by his own parents and it took him what seemed to be a lifetime’s worth of energy to convince him to just give him a chance. Jungkook was not planning on taking that chance for granted.

Jungkook, being the person he is, was excelling, and his name was beginning to become known in the community of photographers and videographers, and he was finally starting to feel at ease. His parents were even acknowledging his successes to the extent that they were helping him financially with school, which was a huge burden off of his shoulders. And then you suddenly crash-landed into his life and just made his life even more fulfilling and by all means, worth living in.

He knew it was a bad idea. Distancing himself from you was the last thing he wanted to do. All his parents were concerned about was the fact that you were the only thing hindering him from making it “big”, when turns out, you became the sole inspiration and muse for most of his recent works. So they gave him an ultimatum to either be cut off financially or break up with you. He didn’t understand, because his parents liked you so much and they loved the influence you had on his work. He didn’t understand. He hated it—the fact that he was basically hanging by puppet strings and didn’t have a say in what he did considering the age he was in now.

He also hated the fact that he knew they had good intentions, and were only doing this because they wanted him to be successful. Their idea of true success for his career could only be seen as the financial benefits of being a director or producer rather than being able to just pursue and learn more about the art form that he loves. There was no use of trying to persuade them, so likewise, he did not. But why get her involved into this mess too?

Jungkook tended to stray away from confrontation and hated immediate and unexpected change as much as he acted like it didn’t phase him. He figured the sooner he can gain benefit from his passion, the less dreadful this dilemma would be. Less mess. Less stress. More time to be with you. That was the intended plan.

His next course of action was to score a film internship and potential job at the rather famous, Fox Studios. By doing so, would have to win the statewide film contest— a much larger scale than he had ever involved himself in. The mere thought of him having to showcase his own self-produced work to critically acclaimed film critics made the bile in his system threaten to upchuck onto the lemon-pledge scented floors of his dorm room. Then he remembered and was reminded— by the help of you of course, that he was Jeon Jungkook, and everyone knows that Jeon Jungkook does not like to lose.

He presumed that keeping up his grades would give him more credibility to getting the internship as well, so he put more focus onto his schoolwork. The remainder of his time was dedicated to exploring his potential ideas and storyboarding out his options and what would be most effective and most consequently— worthy of winning first place.

During this very strenuous time for the poor man, you would most likely see him trudging down the halls, hair in a complete disarray or simply hidden by the fabric of his hood, his eyelids threatening to close shut almost as if it’s taking all his willpower to keep them open, chugging down another red bull with one hand while he grips the strap of his backpack with practically no energy.

I mean you thought it was kinda cute at first, but his apparent deteriorating state mostly caused you to be more concerned than anything else.

In hopes to not hinder his creative flow but still keep his health at par, you would stop by every so often to give him food and give him reassurance—he never needed it so much until now.

Jungkook never told you about the irrational ultimatum his parents had given him. He came to the conclusion that it’d be unnecessary as long as he was able to carry out his plans. Nonetheless, the pressure of the whole situation was getting to him. The love of his life, passion for working with a camera, his parents’ disapproval, and just the own personal dream to be able to tell everyone that “Fuck you, I told you I could do it, and I did,” enveloped his whole mind these days.

Time had proved to not work in Jungkook’s favor. Two weeks passed in a mere blink of an eye leaving him with only two more weeks to finish his film in time for the film contest. This time around, he decided to choose a topic that resonated more with his own personal life. The film revolves around the struggle to be able to conform to the standards and expectations that society implements onto young people, whether it’d be from mainstream media or direct connections, like family. Typically, he stuck a title onto his projects after fully completing it, but for some reason, this time, it had worked in reverse. The title itself suddenly popped into his mind one day and from there he was able to garner ideas from it. And so the title was ‘Moulded’.

A very risky step on Jungkook’s part was what you initially thought when he first told you the idea. He knew that too, which is why he did it. You knew him long enough to be aware of the influence his parents had on his life and their outdated beliefs. You also knew the potential the boy’s zeal could take him, and because of that, all traces of worry left you shortly afterward.

Two days. The film contest was in two days. Jungkook was just about finished at this point, constantly playing back frames and adding final touches, rewatching the same parts over and over again until he became satisfied. He leaned back in his chair and let out a heavy sigh, eyes finally averting from the screen of his desktop to the clock on his bedside table.

“Only 9:15?” he muses, realizing these past four weeks had completely fucked over his sense of time, “At least I’m down, color correcting can be such a bit—”

A small jolt reverberates through his desk, interrupting his verbally spoken train of thought. His eyes beeline back to his phone, the contact picture of his mom flashing on his screen. Why would she be calling me at this time?

His brows knit together as he picks up his phone and swipes his thumb across the screen in uncertainty.

“Um, hi mom?” he greets, with the obvious tone of confusion in his voice.

He can practically hear her scoff over the line, “Jungkook-ah, how’s the film coming along?”

“It’s almost done-”

“Are you still with that girl?” she forcibly asks out of nowhere, leaving him dumbfounded to the point his mouth was hanging open in return.

A few seconds pass by as he processes what’s going on. He tightens his grip on the phone at the mention of you as he confesses through gritted teeth, “Yes mom.”

“We had a deal didn’t we?”

He retorted without waver in his voice, “Mom, I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Then give it back. The tuition money,” she affirms without hesitation, “Jungkook, me and your father have done our part. It’s about time you do yours.”

“I’ve done practically everything you’ve asked. I’m doing just fine,” he monotonously states, trying so hard not to implode on his own mother at this point, “Y/N has nothing to do with this.”

There was a short pause, leaving Jungkook in the same state of dejection per usual when he had to talk to his parents, “We just want you to be successful,” her voice softens, using the same line that somehow magically guilt-trips Jungkook every time the words travel to his ears.

He shakes his head in disbelief over hearing the stupid line that seemed to control every aspect of his life, “You say that every time.”

“And we mean it every time,” she interjects, a sigh audibly present over the line, “this discussion is over.”

She ends the call as Jungkook lets out a raspy and guttural groan, slamming his phone onto his desk in frustration with such strength it’d be surprising if the cheap glass screen protector he’s had on it didn’t suffer any damage.

“Kook,” a voice utters softly from the other side of his door, “is everything okay?”

He flinches at the sound of your voice, considering you were just the subject of the conversation he just had with his mom that left him fuming with rage more than anything.

“Can you please leave Y/N, this isn’t a good time,” he objected, adjusting himself in his seat so he’d face away from the door. Even though you couldn’t see him you could still hear the small indication of irritation in his response.

It was more than apparent something was wrong with him, with only two days left until the film contest, you knew he couldn’t manage to keep his guard down, regardless of the stress and turmoil he’d been putting himself through for the past 4 weeks, “Just because you leave whenever you feel like it…” you enunciate, raising your voice loud enough for him to hear your intentions, “doesn’t mean I will.” Both of you knew the last 4 weeks had taken a toll on the relationship, it was only then that he realized how much he’d been putting it off.

The door began to emit tiny clicking noises as he slowly turned the doorknob. He slowly widens the area as he meekly steps to the side, letting you come in as you make your way toward his bed and plop down onto his sheets.

The tension had never been this thick between the two of you, to the extent where it felt absolutely suffocating and unbearable. You had never seen him in such a state of dejection as he simply sat there, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he nibbled on his lower lip, eyes diverting away from yours at all costs. The knit between his brows that would usually derive from confusion or frustration, seemed entirely different this time around. It was as if his mind was full of nothing but everything all at the same time.

You heave out a deep sigh as you finally break the ice, “Jungkook,” you begin, looking up to see him looking back at you to your surprise, “you know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry for making it seem that way.”

“Don’t apologize if you don’t mean it,” he mutters only to see the flash of hurt in your eyes that makes him divert his gaze back to the floor, “I know I’ve been acting so selfish lately. I’d understand if you felt that way.”

“I hate seeing you like this you know,” you confess quietly, “I know there’s something up.”

His eyes meet yours once again, mouth slightly parted as if he was about to say something, but the silences ensues and he closes the gap once again, resorting back to nibbling the skin off of his bottom lip until it starts to bleed. Your eyes soften as you observe the boy once more. The span of your relationship had naturally led to the two of you being able to open up to one another so easily. You were both able to tell when the other was feeling a certain way and why. It just came with time and getting to know the other person more throughout the relationship. And alongside that was the ability to know when the other was purposely keeping something under wraps—this was one of those times.

“Jungkook”, you whisper just loud enough to catch his attention, which works as he gazes back up at you with all doe-eyed glory, the knit between his brows gone surprisingly out of sight for the first time since you came over. You glance at his bed—emphasizing the void of space next to you on his bed by patting the fabric and peering at the cryptic man, hoping he would get the sign to sit next to you.

Fortunately, he does. He places his hands on the armrests as he timidly pushes himself up from his chair. The chair produces an obnoxiously loud squeaking noise almost emulating the sound of your dog’s dog shaped squeaky toy (counterintuitive I know, but it was a gift from Jungkook himself, the prick). The sound causes you to involuntarily snort as you look away in hopes to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. Too bad you missed the smug grin on his face at your lackluster attempt.

He carefully approaches you as he warily lowers himself onto his bed, making sure he doesn’t make the same mistake twice. He shifts his body to turn towards you, propping his hands at his side. His eyes avoid yours once more, sparing glances at every inch of his own room as if he wasn’t already familiar with the enclosed space.

You pause and calculate your next move, eyes studying the boy’s body language. You outstretch your arm, gently grasping his wrist as you slide your fingers through his calloused palms and twine your fingers with his own, allowing your hands to rest on your knee. His eyes glaze over your connected hands, trailing back to finally meeting your own once again—they had this all too unfamiliar gloss to them, not the usual star-like specks you had been accustomed to looking at. As a few seconds had passed, you spotted the pool of tears starting to brim in the corner of his eyes. Taken aback, you retract your focus to his whole face and how his bottom lip started to tremble, hopeless. Hopelessness was what he was denoting, an emotion you had rarely if never seen coming from the man sitting in front of you.

Before you could formulate any words of comfort, he speaks up, voice brittle and wobbly, “Am I just a failure Y/N?”

“Wha— what? No, how could you ask that? Of course I don’t think you are,” you assert, unknowingly tightening the grip on his hand.

“It’s just,” he drawls out, pausing to think of a coherent way to voice his concerns, “maybe it just would’ve been easier if I complied with my parents in the first place y’know. I’ve been spending all my time and energy fighting it, maybe I’ve just been putting my energy into the wrong-”

“I don’t believe that,” you calmly interject, “I believe that whenever you put your energy into something, you have a reason behind it. You thought about it for a while, it obviously wasn’t something that just sprouted overnight,” you countered, staring off as your eyes land on his workspace, the flashing screen of his computer that reveal his last minute editing as well as the camera you seldom see the man without, “Working with a camera, creating art,” you say while clasping your free hand over the one that you were already holding, rubbing miscellaneous shapes into the back of his hand, “that is what you love to do.”

“I love a lot of things Y/N,” he simply states.

“Hm?” you let out under your breath as you notice the single tear that falls onto his cheek, contradictory to the straightforward tone of his voice you had just heard seconds before. Your body stiffened at the sight of the fallen drop.

“Did you hear me on the phone before you came?” he questions, swiping away the tears that threatened to fall with his free hand.

You take a moment to recollect the moments that preceded until knocking on his door, “No, I just heard a loud bang. It sounded like you broke something.”

“Oh, that was my phone,” he shyly admits while scratching the back of his ear, “there is something I need to tell you.”

You perk up at his sudden willingness to tell you what was wrong. Your body language conveys the signal for him to continue, and he does.

“I got a call from my mom before you came,” he starts, “she was checking up on me, knowing the deadline is coming soon and what not.”

You nod slowly in understanding, “I see, what did she say?”

“You have the right to know,” he mutters under his breath while diverting his gaze back to your interlocked hands. He intentionally grazes your other hand before taking it into his own before flashing you a small grin of reassurance, “The farther I’m advancing, my parents just constantly feel the need to strip me of everything else. You probably knew that already. You also know that I tend to just rebel and find a loophole out of things most of the time. I don’t know, lately, it just seems like they solely care about success and money these days more than my own happiness and wellbeing, and it’s been like that for so long. Anyways, I’ve been prolonging and putting it aside for awhile now, but they threatened to cut me off financially if I didn’t break up with you Y/N.”

A single tear slides down your cheek. You’re at a loss for words and coherent thought. The only thing you muster to say is whatever decidedly popped up into your head first, “W-why haven’t you then?”

The brimming tears began to fall more frequently for you as well as from the eyes of the man in front of you. He releases both of his hands and slides his calloused palms up to your forearms pulling you closer in proximity, “I said it before, I love a lot of things Y/N,” he gingerly reiterates as he swipes away the tears from your eyes with the pad of his thumb before trailing his fingers to your fallen strands of hair, tucking them behind your ear.

“I love my parents, I love working with a camera, but I undoubtedly also am in love with you,” he tenderly professes while sliding down his hand to the crook of your neck, “I know my parents never meant harm, but they have to realize I don’t either. I owe it to myself and I realize that I am capable of obtaining and having everything I want in life,” he wholeheartedly declares despite the tears that continue to run down his face, “ And it wouldn’t be everything I want if you weren’t here with me.”

He renders you speechless, tears streaming freely as he continues to wipe them away. He was much more composed now, wiping away his own remaining tears with the back of his wrist. You, on the other hand, were practically sobbing into his palm, tears spilling all over his forearm.

“There’s a reason why I chose that particular subject for the film, “ he describes, hands sliding down to intertwine with yours once again, “It serves as a testament to my parents, to my peers, to you, but also to myself,” he beams, releasing the hold on your hands as he stands up from his bed, extending a hand out to you.

You unhurriedly grab his hand, as he tugs you to stand up from his bed, leading you to sit in his own seat. He swivels the chair for it to face his computer, stepping aside so you could sit down.

“I wasn’t planning on giving any sneak peeks, but it just seems right to show you this now,” he explains, clicking through the frames until he arrives at his destination and clicks play.

It starts off with the emulation of a glitching tv screen, the audio sounds as if someone was inserting a tape into a DVR. The ‘no signal’ screen fades into the familiar setting of the beach in his hometown. Hues of blue fading into muted shades of oranges and yellows flash across the screen, accompanied by the soft crashing of the waves washing ashore on the fine sand. The camera quickly shifts his focus to what seems to appear as Jungkook being fully enveloped and underneath the sand, his head being the only thing that isn’t submerged. Flashing his signature grin, his arm emerges from the sand as he gives a thumbs-up to the camera, making the person behind it erupt into a fit of giggles. That person was you.

The scene transitions into the city streets of the suburb that was close to the college. You were walking down the sidewalk, enamored by the bustle of the people who lived there as well as the twinkling lights that were draped from building to building. Clips ranging from his family, his friends, him working, and more are compiled and presented as he talks over it. His voice begins to say, “As individuals living in a society where opportunities seem to just be knocking left and right, we all have dreams and desires. Whether they are attainable or not, that’s what makes them all the more worthwhile and exhilarating to find out for ourselves. Society, whether we like it or not, is filled with certain conjectures that they believe can assure us of these dreams and desires, what they’ve made us believe as the path to success. They mould us from the beginning. As kids, we are told to behave well, listen to our elders, go to school, get good grades, and get into a good college. As adults, we deem success as having a stable job that pays the bills, buying a house and settling down, finding the love of your life, having kids, and working tirelessly until we become worn out and old. We have these presumptions about what’s better and what’s not, what is easier and what isn’t. Regardless of how much we get told that we can achieve anything we want to in life, we grow older and life unexpectedly throws more curveballs at you to make you think that it’s not actually the case. Well, as cliche as it may sound, I’m here to tell you that it’s just not true. Do what you want. Do what you love. Be with the ones you love. Cherish these moments. Film them as keepsakes to look back on. So… what’s your story? What are your dreams and desires? What sparks pure joy within you and keeps you on your feet? Break those moulds that have been holding you down. Reach for the moon and the stars. And maybe someday with the right amount of determination, and a little bit of luck, you can get there.”

The video ends right then and there, and you had no doubt in your mind that this was his best work to date albeit only seeing a snippet of it. A smile graces your lips as you turn your head to look at the creator of it all. He looks back at you with the familiar star-like specks in his eyes, making you feel rest assured that within all the chaos, you would both get through it all.

MASTERLIST

222 notes · View notes

fandom-blackhole · 3 years

Note

Hello there, my darling. It is me 🐣. Forst of all, sorry for leaving you on ''read''. I've been too busy with shitshow happening in my life. Finally, late at night I can indulge in our little world. Also, I am so happy that other readers have been participating! I've seen so many good points! Oh, but I felt kinda bad for the anonnie who was dissatisfied with Boba's lack of proper sexting. Sorry not sorry but I have a blast everytime we bully tech-grandpa Boba. Okay, onto your entries!

Yes, camping with Paz!!! He lives for hiking,

Also sharing a sleeping bag with him,

Yes, yes, especially since nights in the mountains are definitely cold 😉,

Oh god, oh yes, after some intense wrestling session, laying together and stargazing,

Paz with tatts??

Hell yeah!

I've seen noonies being onto idea that Paz is a geek,

So he definitely has a sleeve tatt with all of his favorite heroes,

Also Miles Morales! Omg, yes, Paz favorite movie is Into the Spoderverse!,

Also Paz has some inspirational/self-love related tattoos in this foreign language (mando'a?),

Trip too Zoo with our beloved clan = a disaster,

Lots of pics of Din holding Grogu while petting and feeding animals 😍,

Grogu and his weird food fixation, bless his soul,

Yes! DIPPIN' DOTS, BLUE RASPBERRY ICE FTW,

Yes a frog stuffie!!! When you guys get back home, he waddles back to his cool space room and introduces baby Yoda to his new friend!,

Ah yes, the frog catching disaster,

You and Din discussing getting Grogu a pet frog,

Uncle Paz helps with getting the right terrarium kit!,

You often catch Paz babytalking to his Ad'ika,

Typicial, who's the good boy? Yes, you are,

Also Paz playing dead and his little companion jumping all over him to revive him,

Din as Mando, Grogu as Baby Yoda and you as Omera, you say?? Heck yeah!,

Also Razor Crest needs a costume as well!,

Uncle Boba throwing a huge ass Halloween party,

Big deal event, celebrities showing up,

Kudos to anon who pitched the idea of Bonnie and Clyde!,

Also Pedro Pascal shows up at the party too,

He is dressed as mando,

Shitshow is about to go down 😂,

People getting confused because Pedro and Din not only have similar posture but they also sound similar, it's too uncanny-valley,

Boba would definitely kidnap you from the dance floor to do some urgent wrestling!,

Also umm 😳 gunplay!kink Boba 😳,

You and Paz going trick or treating!!!,

Witch Paz once casted a curse upon a customer who was being a huge karen to the waitress,

He loves his employees dearly, so no messing around is allowed!,

His employees were shipping you with him long before you became a thing,

Paz once jokingly said that he would lick and eat anything off of you,

You were like hmm even spaghetti?,

And he was like heck yess,

Eww, Paz baby, gross!

Next time he was slurp slurping pasta from your body, srsly this goofball,

Afterwards, he cleaned you nicely, through and through no worries,

Giving Boba a head while he dives his expensive car? 😳,

Also he has a big hot tube and a pool in his penthouse!,

Drinking expensive alcohol while snuggling in the tub?,

Making Boba to loosen up, skinny dipping in the pool??,

You and Din were wrestling rather intensively, and he mumbled something about adding another child to you little family,

You didn't pay much attention to that,

Until he started to grunt about putting a baby in you every now and then,

You having a talk with him,

He shyly explaining that it was his deepest desire to have a big loving family,

Admitting that vision of you carrying for Grogu makes him bothered every time,

Also he said he couldn't get the image of you with a baby bump out of his head,

Omg Paz being infertile???

You've just broken my heart as wel...

But Boba and Kamino project to the rescue???,

Or alternatively, he would have no problem adopting children, being blood related isn't important to him at all,

Auntie Armorer comforting him about his problem,

But imagine if he somehow managed to get you pregnant... 😭😭😭

Also, Mr Fett senior looking up from the heavens at his son, thinking when he'd get grandchildren to carry on the family ''business'' legacy

Once again sorry for the lack of my participation I will try to tune in more often, my darling! Also, I didn't add much this time sorry my mind was somewhere else this time. I will try to add more ideas later! - 🐣

Welcome back darling!!! I missed you, and don't worry about being away take all the time you need. I am also glad that you enjoyed all of our other little rambles that I've answered!

Paz named his dog Ad'ika, this man most definitely has quotes/self love tattoos in mando'a, mandalorian ruins, or aurebesh

Paz has a tattoo for all of his fallen friends and teammates he lost while he was in military

Paz baby talking his dog is so fucking cute!!!

Paz definitely taught his dog all of the tricks, including play dead

When the two of you go trick or treating some of the kids do get scared of him because he's dressed like chewie and he's huge. He pouts because he didn't mean to scare them

Paz totally does little curses to the people who come in and are rude, you don't treat his employees like that, or the other customers without retaliation

His employees had a pool going to see how long it takes before Paz actually mans up and asks you out, and then another one fore how long it'll take before the two of you are married

If you would let him, Paz would never use a plate again. He would eat anything and everything off of you, but his favorites are sweets

Chocolate syrup, yes please. Paz makes sure to thoroughly clean you up 😉

Paz finally opens up to you about his impotency issues one night and you hold him close telling him that, that doesn't matter to you

Paz would and could adopt every child he meets if he could

But also like imagine, one day while you both are still dating, you've missed your period for a month or two, but you don't think much about it because you can't have kids with Paz right?

Well you go to the doctors because something is obviously wrong, and because it is procedure they run a pregnancy and it comes back positive and you're just floored

When you get home and Paz asks how everything went, worried about you, you just blurt it out and Paz freezes

He doesn't know what to think, he's overjoyed and he loves you, but he isn't supposed to be able to have kids, so is it his kid? He quickly yeets that thought away because he knows and trusts you

After that he goes full daddy bear mode and is protective of you and just constantly trying to hover over you

Also Paz helping Grogu with finding and taking care of a frog

Din absolutely melted at the sight of Grogu feeding the animals, it made him so proud of his son

Grogu loves all of his stuffed animals and he is constantly playing and talking with them

His favorite is ofcourse his baby yoda

GROGU POINTS TO PEDRO AND ALWAYS CALLS HIM DAD. He does this with the mandalorian and just any pictures

You totally introduce Grogu to bubble tea, and he absolutely L O V E S it

Din making little comments about about want creating a family with you

Din always begging to cum inside of you

Grogu once asked for a little brother or sister and Din almost combusted

As for what Razor Crest should be for Halloween, I would say either a ting Razor Crest ship or tiny Kryate Dragon?

Pedro would be so ecstatic to meet his basically identical twin

(You accidentally go up to Pedro and kiss his cheek at one point before you realize you mixed and Din pouts)

Boba's Halloween party is totally Great Gatsby themed

Boba totally keeps trying to get handsys and you have to push him away

Slow and passionate wrestling in Boba's hot tub

ROAD HEAD! ROAD HEAD!

I raise you, Boba fingering the life out of you as he's driving

Imagine finding a picture of Boba and Jango and smiling at Boba telling him he looks just like his father

Boba joking about carrying on the tradition and making a little Boba

Then the both of you just look at eachother and pretty much jump eachother simultaneously

(Also imagine getting kidnapped by an enemy crime syndicate and Boba just going on a war path)

(SEND ME THOTS!!!)

#🐣 anon #modern au #din djarin x reader #din x reader #boba fett x reader #boba x reader #paz vizsla x reader #paz x reader

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ribcage-rodents · 3 years

Text

Post two

Diana

Diana smiled indulgently resting a hand on Donna’s shoulder.

“Hello Donna, it is wonderful to see you again, I have some exciting news.”

Donna

She fidgeted awkwardly trying to act like she hadn't been eavesdropping.

Diana

“You are finally going to see the Man’s World. Go pack your bags, we will leave once you say your goodbyes. We can discuss the rules of your mission in my plane.”

Her excitement was only shown by the joyful flash in her eyes.

Donna attempted to keep her face in a soft smile with her eyes telling her emotions

much like her older sister does, as she made her way towards her home.

Scene 6

Bruce sat at the kitchen counter a cup of steaming coffee in one hand, while his face rested heavily in the other.

Alfred

Alfred curved around Bruce to top off his drink and use a rag to clean up a puddle of coffee Bruce had spilled while complaining about League business.

“I don’t understand why you can’t just let the boy have friends, master Bruce.”

Bruce

Bruce looked up exasperated from where his face was resting.

“Because Dick is more skilled and intelligent than all of those other ‘heroes’. I don’t want him to be influenced by those immature, idiotic, side kicks. Who knows what one of those older kids could encourage him to do!? He’s much safer at home.”

He said moving his hand sharply to the left spilling coffee all over the counter.

Alfred sighed deeply moving to clean up the coffee, sending Bruce a disapproving stare while he sheepishly averted his gaze. Dick was upstairs in his beautiful, pink-marbled bathroom leaning over the counter worriedly applying concealer to purple bruises on his neck as Tate Agile played in the background, he stopped for a moment to read to a text from ‘science lab partner’.

Dick

“Come on dude, it's not that big of a deal Bs never gonna know”

Dick sighed becoming even more concerned, he glanced in the mirror frowning at his reflection before replying.

“Idk Babs, I’d be in a ton of trouble if B found out”

He stared at his phone for a couple of seconds then added,

“Especially since you’re like a little too old for me”

Dick’s hand squeezed around his phone as he shut his eyes, he counted to ten silently before exhaling. Pretending he wasn’t waiting for her response he went back to covering up the bruises on his neck, despite his eyes flicking back over to the black screen every couple of seconds.

Yet when the phone finally pinged he hesitated, it wasn't until the second text arrived that he actually answered.

“No, our age difference really isn’t that big, if you think about it people get married with like a 10 year diff.”

“Are you gonna come out w me tonight?”

Dick sighed softly, his cheeks lighting up pink.

“Yeah I got some free time around 12-2am. But we’re just gonna hang out ok, just like a little bit of kissing. No making out or hickies or anything.”

His phone pinged again.

“Haha yeah sure that's what you said last time.”

“What's up w your schedule man? 12-2am is so random.”

“You might not need sleep but I do, next time we should just meet up during like second period or something.”

Dick’s frown deepened.

“I’m not skipping school. I think you’re a bad influence on me:(“

“You know we don’t have to do anything when we meet up we could just cuddle or something.”

He paused before deleting the last message.

“Ha, maybe I like making you into a bad boy”

“See you tonight, maybe I’ll make you break into the school to find the best secret makeout place!”

Dick set his phone face down, scratching at his arm he went back to covering up those bruises.

Scene 7

Wally was in his tiny little bathroom that looks like it was designed in the 1950’s. He was leaning over the tiled blue and turquoise countertop messing with his forever windswept hair. There was a loud banging at the door as Wally dragged a brush through the birdsnest on top of his head.

Wally

There was a brief pause before Wally once again dragged the brush through his messy hair. The banging returned causing Wally to jerk smacking his hand against the counter, he turned and opened the door staring annoyed at his uncle.

“What?”

Barry

Barry stared back a pleased smirk on his face leaning against the door frame.

“Come on kiddo, we’re gonna be late.”

He reached out and plucked the brush from Wally’s hand as he spoke.

Wally

Wally did a full body groan leaning back, he shot one last mournful look at himself in the mirror before he moved towards the door, his uncle disappearing into his room. Wally sighed rummaging through his room for his suit. “What's the point of having super speed if you’re gonna be late to everything?”

Barry

Barry zipped over to his nephew ruffling his hair, effectively ruining any improvement Wally had managed.

“I ask myself the same question everyday when I show up late for work.”

Flying down the streets of central the two speedsters made haste, two flashes of red and yellow sped down the streets and around buildings. Stopping quickly at a hotdog vendor, handing the man a red credit card decorated with tiny lightning bolts, the city's way of thanking the heroes. Before getting back on the road.

Flash

“So kiddo, are ya nervous?”

Flash called stuffing a whole hot dog in his mouth.

Kidflash

Kidflash made a contemplative noise, looking down at his feet.

“Well yeah, I’m not exactly good at making friends,... or being cool.”

Both speedsters came to a halt, Kidflash resumed looking down self-deprecatingly, shoving the last 12 hotdogs into his mouth. Flash slipped behind him resting a hand on his shoulder.

Flash

“Don’t worry kiddo, just be yourself they’re gonna love you!”

He punctuated his statement by ruffling his nephew’s hair one last time. The two then proceeded, one at a time to enter the transporter.

Scene 8

Kidflash stepped into the JL headquarters quickly moving to catch up with his uncle as he sped towards the monitor room.

Flash

“Welcome to the Justice League break room!”

Flash called happily swinging his arms open to fully display the room. He leaned in close,

“It used to just be the monitor room but we all started to hang around here, mostly because Wonder Woman and Supes like to annoy Bats.”

He said with a nod.

Wonder Girl sat alone on the edge of one of the ugly green couches, sipping on a mug of herbal tea periodically.

Flash

Flash bumped his shoulder against Kidflash’s, whispering an encouraging,

“You got this kiddo!”

The Flash then departed, walking over towards Batman and Wonder Woman chatting by the supercomputer both holding steaming cups of coffee.

Kidflash

Taking a deep breath and gathering all his courage Kidflash confidently strided over to where Wonder Girl was perched. Looming over her he plastered on his best ‘Wall-man’ smirk. Wonder Girl cocked a single eyebrow as a supercilious look settled on her lips.

“Hey gorgeous, I hope you brought your library card because you can totally check me out!”

He flinched expecting to be hit or splashed by her tea.

Wonder Girl

“Wow, I’m already regretting this,”

Wonder Girl huffed glaring at Kidflash

“Maybe I should’ve stayed home,”

She mumbled quietly to herself.

Speedy

Speedy came up behind Kf’s right purposely smacking their shoulders together before plopping down on the couch causing Wonder Girl’s tea to slosh spilling over the rim and roll down the side of her thigh.

“Ew, dude have you ever actually gotten a girl with that line?”

He asked his arms resting on the top of the couch. He then raised his hand in a halting motion.

“Nevermind don't answer that, you have loner-loser written all over you.”

Kidflash

Kidflash lost his composure striking his arms out, before bringing his hand back around to point towards himself.

“Hey! I get tons of ladies!”

Speedy

“Yeah whatever dude,”

Speedy cut him off waving his hand still resting on the top of the couch, looking in the opposite direction of the scene before him.

Garth

Garth parted from his King’s side as they entered the break room with a nod, he walked towards the other heroes, his dark eyes calculating.

“Hello, I’m Garth.”

He said before sitting down on the couch next to Speedy.

Speedy

Speedy made a face.

“Great intro fishboy! But shouldn’t you have like a superhero name?”

Garth

“No, I don’t have a secret identity.”

Garth spoke, his tone relaying how idiotic he thought Speedy was.

Kidflash

“What about protecting your family man?”

Kidflash asked, lifting both his eyebrows, he was never able to just move one, leaning towards Garth.

Garth

Garth’s eyebrows pulled together as frustration took over.

“I don't wear a mask, villains will know who I am regardless.”

Speedy

“Wonder Girl doesn’t wear a mask,”

Speedy said leering at Garth.

“Maybe we should come up with a dumb superhero name for you, personally I like Fishboy!”

Kidflash laughed loudly, Wonder Woman groaned standing up and walking towards her sister.

She was stopped by the Flash calling them over in an energetic voice waving the rest of the sidekicks towards them.

Green Arrow

Green arrow spoke first giving all of the teens a cursory glance before focusing completely on his own sidekick.

“Now listen up, this mission is very important to your future as legitimate heroes.”

Within his brief pause Black Canary sighed heavily at Green Arrow's natural talent for being a terrible parent. He moved one hand to his hip as he spoke lightly elbowing Aquman in the process.

“All ya gotta do is sit and watch your targets,”

Once again there was a lapse in his speech when he turned to check that Batman had brought up the images of the targets and the suspicious big black bags, as well as the address of their hideout. After seeing Batman had in fact project the correct information, Green Arrow nodded to himself before turning back toward the sidekicks. Jerking his thumb backwards, he continued.

“These are them.”

He took a moment to clear his throat at the odd phrasing.

Flash

Flash took that moment to take over patting his colleague’s shoulder as he stepped closer to the center of the group.

“We’ve been monitoring these guys’ set up for a couple weeks. We think that they’re smuggling something illegal in those big black bags-”

Speedy

“What do you mean “illegal” things?! Don't we get to know if there's gonna be guns or drugs or something, idiot-man!”

Speedy cut in sharply placing both hands on his hips and leaning forward, aggressively sneering in the Flash’s face.

Green arrow placed a hand on each side of Speedy’s chest pushing him back as Flash stood there shocked.

Flash

“So we’ll drop ya off at their hideout, be very careful sneaking into the building and while choosing stalking positions. If they begin to pack up and leave or the situation starts to turn violent, stay safe and contact us before attempting to fight. If they have guns, retreat to the transporter immediately.

Batman then swiveled around in his chair, sending a questioning glance at Wonder Woman from across the room, ignoring the conclusion of Superman’s story much to his disappointment.

Batman

“Why would you send these children out into the field if you don't trust them to fight without supervision?”

It was a statement rather than a question, challenging all of the other mentors.

Wonder Woman answered anyway with a judgemental look of her own, but Green Arrow was the one who spoke.

Green arrow

Green arrow took several long strides towards batman.

“Well we’re not just gonna leave our kids at the mercy of a bunch of gun wielding scumbags. I mean, Flash can’t even stand a chance against a handgun, do ya think any side kick could survive that?!”

Batman

Batman glared at him but spoke in a calm voice, only failing a little to keep the smugness out of his tone.

“Robin could.”

Aquaman

Green Arrow geared up to make another loud and spity remark but Aquaman spoke up for the first time since the debriefing began.

“If he is so proficient then why is he not here?”

He questioned with far more smugness in his tone.

Batman

“Because Robin is currently working on his own personal mission tonight.”

The statement was followed by Batman swinging his chair back around and continuing to type up a mission statement.

The group dispersed most of the sidekicks getting last minute pep talks, Kidflash who reached out to his uncle grabbing his elbow as he went to go carbo-load.

Flash

The flash turned to look at his nephew.

“What’s up kiddo?”

He asked, placing a hand on each of his shoulders looking at his face in concern.

Kidflash

Kidflash looked down taking a deep breath before locking eyes with his uncle.

“I-I don't know if I can do this uncle B.”

Flash

Flash answered with a sigh rubbing rough but soothing circles on his shoulders and nape.

“Alright listen kiddo, ya made a jerk out of yourself.”

kidflash‘s face whipped up to face his uncle.

“I know I flirt with all the ladies but I do so in a joking manner that means no harm or a promise for furthering the relationship...just apologize to Wonder Girl.”

Kidflash made a face at the ground scuffing his shoe against the shiny tile floor.

“Make some small talk when appropriate on the mission and you’ll have three new best friends in no time!”

Flash turned him around to face the other sidekicks and smacked him on the back pushing him forward.

Scene 9

A wide shot of the seedier area of Arizona, several of the lamp posts have been shattered and no longer work, streams of light shine across the wet road through boarded up windows of an old warehouse. The sidekicks crouched behind a stack of molding crates, listening intently as the goons played cards and chatted about their personal lives, peering at them periodically.

Roy

Roy groaned softly clunking his head against the rotten wood.

“This is so boring! They aren’t doing anything, I say we just jump ‘em now!”

Roy whispered looking expectantly at his teammates.

Garth

Garth glared annoyed, grabbing Speedy’s wrist in a surprisingly strong grip.

“We were given direct orders-”

Speedy

Speedy shoved his flat palm into Garth’s face creating space between them.

“Calm down Fishboy, I’d never go against our wise and fearless mentors’ orders,”

Speedy sneered, ripping his arm from Garth and rubbing his wrist.

#dick grayson #wally west #roy harper #donna troy #garth #teen titans!fab five #writing is hard

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hoochieblues · 3 years

Text

100 Days of Writing: Day 10

Tell us about ideas you have floating around. Worldbuilding snippets, or ideas for new stories. Just a few bullet points.

for @the-wip-project

ehhh.... making myself accountable and WIP except under the cut.

Things I’m doing/thinking rn may include....

like a totally normal person, reduxing, finishing and getting ready to rerelease the original f!Tabris novelisations that got me into DA fandom in the first place ~800 years ago. Now with screen reader compatibility, sundry tweaks and canon divergence, and about 44% more politics, wet socks, and pickled eggs. My heart will always be Fereldan.

alienage stories that have lived in my head rent-free for ages (so. much. tabris. backstory), plus my hc Adaia needs her own screen time and I don’t want to be cheap and file off her numbers for an original story when this world fits so well.

finishing my hiatus’d DA2 Handers fic, wherein my thoughts on Justice and mage politics have shifted a bit in response to Bioware’s treatment of canon... not saying anymore rn to avoid spoilers, but I have so much more Anders I want to write. Also, my poor Hawke needs to address his issues bc he’s still a hot mess.

I’d love to do a modern AU at some point. I adore how Anders is such a fluid character (in all senses) - there’s not a time period or setting he doesn’t work in bc so many of the character concepts are universal, but I kinda want early 80s London/NYC young Anders burning down Thatcher-era Met policing and growing up to be a mentor to young activists in a world where we never actually had to argue for the repeal of Section 28 or the destruction of a Tory state....

Things involving my poor neglected Adaars, and the DA RPG OCs I’ve been sitting on since treating myself to the handbook at birthday time.

hc explorations of blood magic as more than ‘baaaad!’. C’mon Bioware.

One totally self indulgent thing I’ve been doing to sort out finishing the Great Mass of Unfinished Fic is to let myself write the what ifs and au versions of what might happen at the end of the FoD series (but likely won’t/can’t, at least not then) and just play with them in a loose, fun format.

Not sure if it’s a good thing to be writing the au to your own fic, but somehow it involved ending up with some fun character studies and possibilities. For example... Riordan outranks both Alistair and the Warden. What if he puts his foot down and conscripts Loghain, reasoning that the political symbolism of the Hero of River Dane joining the Wardens outweighs their personal vendetta, but not appreciating the fallout it’s going to cause?

Behold, an excuse for Warden x Alistair fleeing to Rivain. But can you outrun what you become?

On the Verge of a World Profound (WIP)

The pyres will be burning in Denerim by now. The wind is brisk, and coming from the southwest, but it doesn’t carry the sting of ash on it. Out here, in fact, it almost seems as if the world’s normal. The ship skims the waves, sleek and fast, and the water glimmers like molten gold beneath the pool of a rising sun that seems to have burst out of the sea like a jewel. It’s beautiful, and it smells fresh and free, the salty air fringed with the bitter oaken tang of ropes and wood, and the creak of the rigging.

For one guilty moment, Alistair realises he’s thinking of Redcliffe. It smells the same, almost. He recalls the lake, the fishing dories, and scrambling up onto the castle’s parapets to watch the boats come in and the people gut and pack the catch on the quayside in the village below. He used to get into trouble for climbing across the roof of the kennels… but he used to get into trouble for pretty much everything, so there was nothing new there. Lake Calenhad was fresh water, though. There was never such a sharp smell on the breeze, and it didn’t have the rough lolling of the ocean waves about it.

Speaking of which, he glances at Merien, and she’s still got a death grip on the wooden rail that runs along the side of the ship’s deck, although at least she’s standing up now. She looks thin and sick, and her knuckles are clenched peaks against the wood as she stares at a fixed point on the horizon, her mouth a tightly folded line. They’ve been up here all night, not because Isabela didn’t offer them a cabin, but because Meri can’t handle going below, and he wasn’t about to leave her on her own. She isn’t one of nature’s seafarers, but there’s something else that’s weighing heavier on both of them than that.

It wasn’t meant to be like this. Everything about this is just plain wrong. They were supposed to fix things, not steal out into the dark like they were the ones who’d done something to be ashamed of.

Oh, yes, they’re running away. That’s essentially what this is. It’s the act of a pair of cowards, which is almost sort of funny—in a darkly ironic, not-at-all-funny-in-the-slightest kind of way—because Alistair could have sworn it was the opposite of cowardice that got them into this mess. It was that whole thing where you stand up for what’s right, and what you believe in and know to be just… and he thought that was what Grey Wardens were meant to do. Except he was wrong. Apparently. He sees that now, and he sees what a fool he is, and how stupid he’s been this whole time. Huh. Maybe he should have listened more to all the people who kept calling him that.

The only real consolation is that he’s not alone, which both is a consolation, and also makes everything so much worse, because he knows this is all his fault.

#100daysofwriting #writeblurble #cries gently #inveterate scribbler #idk if i should run w this but at least i had fun

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spottedlekkudancer · 4 years

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Lady of the Stars Part One - Contact

@paytonita @tranquility-or-chaos @inumorph

THIS IS A SW/Witcher CROSSOVER.

Geralt x Jedi!Reader

2.8K words

Originally planed on having 2 or 3 parts to this story but apparently I have diarrhea of the mouth and moved the plot too slow. So get ready to be strapped in for at least 4 if not 5 self indulgent parts. And feel free to send me all the questions you like.

Warnings: Adult language, mentions of death, violence, and other adult themes.

By whim or by destiny light catches your attention though fluttering lashes. It kisses your cheek with warmth and the subtleness of a gentle dawn. After a moment the fog of sleep sheds from your brain. You adjust. The orange glow crackles at your nose and you realize that you are in more peril than the lingering caress of your dreams led you to believe. The pilot’s dash in front of you is consumed with flame.

“Crinking Hell! Dol'bfai!” You smack the Weequay to your right in an attempt to get his attention, but your hand meets nothing but the padding of your co-pilot’s chair. Heart dropping to your gut you look about the cockpit of your HWK-290. The leathery skinned man was in a broken bloody heap on the floor behind you. You might have felt bad if he wasn’t such E-chu-ta each and every day. If fact you couldn’t help but scold him mentally for not wearing his seat straps. “So much for ‘the experienced never falter’ line, Chuggnut.” You grunted, ejecting yourself from your own buckles to take care of the more pressing matter.

You leaned over the Weequay smuggler’s body to get to the extinguishing hose and with a little effort you salvaged what was left of your controls. Outside your ship was another wreck all together. Fires were smoldering at every corner of your limited view from inside. You had half a mind to run out immediately, but thought better of it. If your ship was going to blow up it would have done so already you told yourself in a comforting manner. Sending your droids for damage control was the safer option on foreign planets. However, you couldn’t stay put forever. The damages weren’t going to evaluate themselves, moreover, the body of your partner needed to be dragged out before he started to stink. By the looks of things the atmosphere had to be breathable. Most planets with such green life gave off suitable levels of oxygen for humans. Whatever the case, you would have to risk it; your employer refused to provided vacuum suits or travel tanks. Too costly.

You were use to the miserly ways of the former pirate leader Hondo Ohnaka. You had been working with his smuggling cover company for half a decade now: ever since you ran from the Jedi training academy, or rather, Ben Solo. You didn’t know Solo to be a liar, in fact he had treated you like a little sister for all the years you had grown together, but when he told you and the others how Luke had turned on him you were too confused to chose between the two of them. Luke was your master, and Ben your friend. The force whispered something to you then. A soft encouragement to leave everything. You chose to listen; to not pick sides at all, and made a new life for yourself under an identity the Weequay stole for you.

Once free of your hot metal cage it was clear that things were not as horrible as you imagined. You were safe from any fuel combustion’s or reactor leaks. The two DUM-series pit droids were clumsily scurrying about trying to put out the fire that was inching ever closer to your turret. It was also evident from the back that only one of Pathfinder’s two hyper-drive systems had taken on some heavy laser canon damage. Looked like the shielding component was scored too, but that wasn’t a necessity for getting back in the air.

“The kriff happen?” you weren’t fully talking to anyone, not even yourself. You had a vague memory of being cornered by Absolution, a First Order R-SD, and their TIE fighters on your way to a high bye delivery. But how, moreover where, you crash landed was still a mystery. You tapped the remote on your wrist. A projection fizzed in and out of view with vertical blue static. You must have knocked it out of order in the crash. Now you had no way of knowing what planet you were on or what it’s population consisted of.

“O-T!” The droid with the painted yellow stripe above his singular oculus ambled in your direction. “Once you get this mess under controls see if our Nav is still in tact. The job is a sham but we might be able to at least back track to base. I’ll go scout out the area for any nearby scarp yards. We aren’t getting off this durkload of a planet in this condition, that’s for damn sure.” O-T nodded and whistled a question in response. “Don’t know. Com link is out and I’m not able to check for life forms. If anything happens just lock yourselves in the ship 'til I get back.” You didn’t wait for the little droid to argue with you more as he usually would. It wasn’t likely you would be getting an extraction from Ohnaka Transport Solutions this close to First Order territory anyway. You were on your own.

You traveled 500 paces from your ship in each cardinal direction before you came to something of interest. Flowing SE to S was a small river bed. With noting more than a seemingly endless forest as your surrounding it was your best bet to finding civilization. For another hour you saunter down the unbeaten path until you felt night approaching. There was already little light beneath the canopy and you didn’t have the eyes of a cat, so with your wits and strength still about you you turned back. The rusted roof of your Corellian light freighter would have to suffice for the night.

The cacophonous sounds of shrieking and the boisterous gargling of goose like honks was your first indication that something was awry near your ship. The closer you got the more defining the racket became. Whatever the creature was, and you were sure it was some kind of animal, had to have a massive pair of lungs on it.

With much disappointment you found your analysis to be correct. Thought the brush you could see some kind giant blue feathered lizard-bird striking at your dead co-pilot’s flesh. You cursed yourself for not burring the poor man right away, and true to your command your pit droids had barricaded them selves inside your transport.

“Mother of …” You sighed to yourself. Your Jedi teachings told you to let the beast be, however, just hiding behind a tree all night while it desecrated the Weequay’s body didn’t feel right to you. Regardless you held yourself back from attacking the thing. It was just trying to survive after all, and if you didn’t have to get into a fight you didn’t want to. You were already stranded. Adding injury to that would not be wise.

When morning came the feathered brute had not yet left; roosting atop your ship like it had always belonged there.

Well if the giant critter wanted it, he could have it. In your groggy state you had little patience and didn’t want to be bothered with defending what you didn’t currently posses. You had everything you needed: canteen, provisions in your belt pouch, republic credits, and of course your trusty light-saber. Once you got what you wanted from the scrap shop you would deal with the overgrown pidgin.

“You’re alive.”

The voice of your pursuer was clear. This wasn’t part of your imagination. The force had bonded you and Solo again. “Careful Ren, you almost sound relived.”

Kylo scoffed. “Surprised is more likely."

You stood and turned around. Were there was once endless forest now stood the masked Dark Jedi you both dreaded and longed to see. "How is it you keep your standards for me so low when I’ve evaded your every move."

"I wouldn’t call narrowly escaping with your life an 'evasion’.” Gloved hands ringed rightly around themselves. Anger or worry built like a tumultuous storm inside of him: you couldn’t tell which. “How did you manage that Jump?”

“Jump?” The query slipped though your lips too quickly.

“Don’t remember? Maybe your not as well of as you look” Kylo straightened with pride. You were sure he was gloating to himself on his small victory. “My Knights had you cornered at the edge of a nebula. With no larger ship close enough to tractor you in I gave the order to immobilize you.”

“Why not just kill me?"

It was an abrupt interruption that went unanswered. Kylo waited for you to calm yourself before continuing. Even now as a villainous "dark lord” he was patient with you. “We took out your Hyperdrive, Y/N. That jump should have been impossible.”

It was coming back to you now. You had prosperously led the TIEs to the cloud of gas and dust. You planed to enter into it blind and use the force as your guide. You figured the lot you were running from wouldn’t dare try to fallow. Instead your ship started to shake and spark as it tried desperately to hold against the onslaught. You panicked. You didn’t even complete the calculations before you pushed your freighter to enter hyperspace. You could have died. You could have been thrust into a star or another mass and exploded into dust.

Your stomach tightened. Dol'bfai was dead because of your rash behavior. He was in the middle of un-tethering a knot in his seat straps when you made that decision. You pulled out of it almost immediately, giving your best attempt at the “skipping” the other smuggler pilots did so often, but it was too late. You were entering the atmosphere of another moon or planet. There was not time to pull up, and you crashed.

If Kylo saw the tear you shed just then he didn’t bother to comment on it. “If you were with those goons of yours you could have planned better for that. You know as well as your father that every standard HAWK series come with two hyperdrives."

You could have sworn you heard Kylo curse from beneath his helmet. His breathing was expeditious and heavy now; you cold feel his fury swarming in the force around you.

"Cookie points to you if you are able to find me this time Ren. Even I don’t know where I am.” You teased rather lightheartedly.

This only pushed his buttons more. He gestured to you pointedly. “Oh don’t worry about that. I’ll bring you in myself if I have to.”

And with that your force connection faded. The experience left you feeling diminished and torn. Your past kept endangering the people around you. With a heaving breath and shaking knees you looked ahead to the southern half of the forest. You could dwell on these events all day if you’d like, but it would just be a waist of time. You needed to set your pity party aside and focus on getting off this planet before he really did find you.

~~~ Two days had passed and you thanked the force that not one of them brought you any sign of the First Order. Your only gripe was that the town you had found proved your worst nightmares had come true. This planet was primitive. The citizens here weren’t even literate, moreover, building any sort of machinery. You were shit out of luck, money, and a plan.

Was this punishment? You thought it might be far more often than you would like to admit. The force had never led you so astray before. What kind of design could it have for you now?

Your credits weren’t worth anything here but one tavern keeper in this shit stained town you did take a fancy to your Heart of Beskar necklace. You debated for a long while if you should give it to him in exchange for a few hot meals and a bed. It was the only thing you had to remember your birth family of after all. But after a particularly stormy night you didn’t have choice any longer. Not unless you wanted to freeze to death. It was hard to let go, but not as hard as it was each day that passed knowing your parents let you be raised by a stranger.

Sure becoming a Jedi was a noble cause to enlist your child into, but unlike so many of your piers you did not ever go back home to your parents. Ben and the others always got to see their loved ones for a few weeks every so often, and yet you were kept locked away on the training camp with Luke year round. When asked Luke assured you that your parents were still alive; he even gave you their names and home planet. Even now after having found their old home and poppers grave you didn’t understand.

So to the inn keep you gifted your father’s old armor piece, and two nights stay was what he offered you in return. Not a fair trade by any means, however, how exactly were you supposed to explain the galactic value of Beskar to these simple people?

A man dressed in bright colors played a 15 stringed instrument in the corner of the tavern. He was merry and boisterous; entertaining at the vary least. You pitied that the crowd this morning was not taking well to him. Half of them were hung over, the other half looked mean and dirty enough to scare a Dewback.

The Musician caught you staring at him. A smile brighter than the three suns of Helioss graced his features. You cringed internally and returned his gesture with a timid one of your own. Silently you prayed he wouldn’t goat you into some volunteer sing-song delights so publicly.

The Man’s strut was so vaunt it had every patron staring at him as he made his way though the tables to presumably talk to you. You shrunk a little in your seat, not wanting this kind of attention. You had already drawn enough as it was with how oddly you were dressed; you didn’t need any more. He plopped down opposite you at the table.

“So! How come the only person in this shit stick interested in my song is a pretty young woman like you?” He gave you almost no room to think of an answer before continuing his self serenade. “If it’s my corky charm or boyish good looks please don’t keep me waiting in sufferance to hear those sweet words leave your lips.” The line could have been considered smooth to some, however, the awkward and eager demeanor he carried was a little too much. You could see how it was putting off the rest of the room.

The only response you had to offer was a perplexed smile.

He rested his chin in the palm of his upturned hand. “Come on!” He whined enthusiastically. “Care to comment on the quality of my performance? I do love getting reviews from the public.”

You sighed though your nose and fiddled with the food in front of your. “Yes, well… I suppose we all yearn for validation. Don’t we?”

It was the bard’s turn to bewildered. He sat up stat tall in his bench now, brows furrowed, taking a briefer moment to ponder. “What’s your name?”

Your head tilted. “Where I’m from it’s rude to ask for someone’s name without offering your own first.” It was a plane way of throwing his question back at him; you weren’t looking to get overly acquainted with anyone if you could avoid it.

“Oh!” He was beaming excitedly again. “Where is it you are from?!"

You gave him an unblinking stare for what felt like a medium sized eternity. Clearly he was not accustom to taking non verbal ques. You decided to just give in to his delicate personality. "Florrum.”

“Ahh.” He nodded in a knowing matter. “Beautiful country.”

“Right.” He was pulling Bantha wool over your eyes in an attempt to impress you. It was arguably charming.

“Where is that exactly? From here I mean.” The bard laughed nervously as he knocked his head playfully. “I get so turned around while mindlessly fallowing my muse on his travels.”

“Your Muse?” It was time to change the subject.

“Oh hohoho! He is a man of Destiny, Heroics, and Heart Brake.” The man practically jumped out of his seat and with one leg propped up onto the bench he swung his instrument back front side. “Shall I play you a song about him?”

Head half in your hands you nodded. Your bashful nature told you you would regret this, but you didn’t have the heart to say no.

He was taking his first heaving breath before starting to strum when another interrupted the musician, yanking him back by the shoulder. “Jaskier. We’re leaving.” The new man was hulking and clad in black studded leathers, with eyes of gold. He wasn’t old, but his hair was as silver as his blades. A striking appearance. Perhaps humans weren’t the only sentient species on this forsaken planet.

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today-only-happens-once · 5 years

Text

the only exception

Title: the only exception

Word Count: 4,549

Summary: College!AU, Musician!AU. Patton shows up to a music festival that Virgil—along with his twin brother, Roman—is headlining, hoping to surprise him. Turns out, it’s Virgil that surprises him first. Romantic Moxiety, brief background Logince. Song-fic.

Warnings: lots of fluff and softness and sappiness, mutual pining elements, declarations of love, description of crowds, cursing, discussion of anxiety, mention of anxiety attacks, kissing, Virgil “writes” a song that’s actually written irl by Paramore but ssshhh Paramore doesn’t exist in this AU, please let me know if I forgot anything.

A/N: Someone on tumblr once made a textpost that said “The Only Exception” was a Moxiety song, and weeks later I listened to it and realized they were right. And then I had this image in my head that wouldn’t go away for like. Months. And then eventually I decided to write this. It’s basically a song-fic. Crazy self-indulgent, heh. Also, I’ve never written Romantic Moxiety before, nor have I written a Patton-POV focused fic. So writing this was a whole boatload of new. I hope it turned out okay! Edited by yours truly, so all mistakes are mine.

You can listen to the song Virgil sings at the end here!

Tags: @creativenostalgiastuff, @helloisthisusernametaken, @ren-allen, @quoth-the-sparrow, @princelogical, @random-pianist, @ravenclawicecream, @erlenmeyertrash, @milomeepit, @at-least-seven-pretty-potatoes, @rileyfirstname, @pinkeasteregg, @sassy-in-glasses, @vigilantvirgil, @generalfandomfabulousness, @lacrimosathedark, @thepoolofthedead, @monikastec, @heir-of-the-founders, @yourworstnightmare999, @artistictaurean, @kanejandkruge, @cdragontogacotar, @damienswifeolicitydallysgirl, @angst-patton, @savingshae, @noneed4thistbh, @awesomelissawho, @unikornavenger, @bopthesnoz, @spiralofsilencetheory, @finger-gunsss, @crownswriter123, @swlotakulady34, @gaylotusthatexists, @analogical-mess, @dolphidragon, @flix-net, @narniasfinestavengingsociopath, @friedlieb-ferdinand-runge, @bibbidy-bobbity-booyah, @procrastinations-my-middle-name, and also @randomslasher because moxiety! ^u^

…

Present. March. Junior Year.

Patton shoulders his way through the crowd as rock music blares loudly over the speakers. The late March air is cool, and the breeze tugs at the COLLEGE-PALOOZA MUSIC FEST banner hanging from the amphitheater’s stage. A few people he recognizes from his classes wave to him as they nod their head to the music. Patton slows as he finds a small gap in the crowd, not particularly keen on getting into the tightly packed mosh pit that had formed right in front of the stage.

The sun is beginning to set, casting the sky in a light purple hue. Perhaps ironically, it reminds Patton of the guy he’s actually here to see perform. Patton glances at the stage, but there’s no sign of him. He checks his phone for the time. The group was supposed to be on now, but perhaps he’d missed them already.

He looks at the guy beside him—leather jacket and sunglasses, holding a Starbucks cup—and asks over the music, “Which group is this?”

The guy takes a long swallow and then jerks his head towards the stage. “Planets Align. They had trouble getting the sound system working, so they’re running behind.”

Patton nods his understanding, smiles, and thanks him. Planets Align was scheduled to go on right before them, if the pamphlet he’d found on Virgil’s desk was anything to go by. He’d felt terrible at the time when he realized that the band Virgil had formed with his twin brother, Roman, would be headlining a music festival the same day Patton had already promised to help with a group project.

But the other members of his group canceled the meeting earlier today and rescheduled it for next week. So Patton really didn’t see any reason why he couldn’t come support Virgil. And if he maybe didn’t tell Virge in the hopes of being able to surprise him… well.

Besides, he had a feeling Virgil could use a nice surprise. He’d seemed really nervous about the festival when Patton was talking to him about it when he found the pamphlet. Virgil often seemed nervous, but… more nervous than even Virgil’s normal.

Patton smiles a bit to himself when he remembers when they first met.

…

September. Sophomore year.

“For the purposes of this research presentation, I will allow you to choose partners. We will need one group of three, but that certainly seems manageable.”

Patton glances around the stuffy lecture hall. It was only the third time the class had met, so Patton hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to many of his classmates yet. On top of that, it was a pretty big class. Patton had a feeling that he wouldn’t know everybody even by the end of the year. The professor waves her hand to indicate that they should select a partner and begin discussing the project.

Chatter rose up—most people leaning over towards people they were sitting next to, a few calling to friends across the room—and there was shuffling movement and the scraping of chairs as students milled about to find a research partner. Then Patton caught sight of a black and purple hoodie in the back row.

What was his name? Patton couldn’t remember, despite the ice breaker during their first class. He does remember the snort the guy had released when Patton had made a pun about his name when introducing himself. He also remembers the way he’d immediately ducked his head a second later when Patton grinned at him.

Patton gathers his things and squeezes through his classmates. “Hey,” he says. The guy in the hoodie looks up, seeming startled. “Wanna be partners?”

The guy blinks at him, then shifts in his seat and motions to the empty chair on the other side of his desk. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“I’m Patton, by the way.”

“Virgil. What, uh, what are you studying?”

Patton pulls his laptop out of his bag. “Oh! I’m an early education major. What about you?” As he asks, Patton casts a quick glance at the laptop in front of Virgil and notices the stickers on it: SANDERS in messy black scrawl, a thundercloud with a bolt of lightning, a small circle with a paint-smear style gay pride flag, and a few music notes.

“Graphic design with a minor in music,” he replies. Patton notices him glancing at the buttons on Patton’s backpack that he threw in the empty chair beside him—some about cats, some about dogs, a heart with glasses that he thought was cute, and a pride pin from last year’s Pride week.

“That’s pretty cool. You play music?”

Virgil lifts a shoulder. “With my brother, mostly.”

“Wow. That’s… really awesome,” Patton says, sincerely impressed. He’d always loved music, but really only dabbled in the ukulele. He’d always thought musicians were cool: having skills like that took a lot of work, and a lot of dedication. That seemed pretty admirable to Patton.

Virgil smirks. “If you say so.”

“I do. I mean it.” For a fleeting moment, Virgil looks taken aback by the insistence in Patton’s voice. “What do you play?”

…

Present.

“Roman is totally the hot one,” Patton hears a girl behind him say to her friends.

“Elliot thinks he has a crush on Logan Berry, you know.”

“He’s gay?” The girl sounds surprised, but not hostile.

“Ace, I think. Panromantic, if the stickers on his laptop are anything to go by.” Patton recognizes that voice as one of the girls in the LGBTQ+ club that Patton was secretary for.

“You have class with him?”

“We had English 100 together freshman year. Elliot’s in class with him and Logan, though, and says they want to gag literally any time the two so much as talk to each other.”

Patton grins to himself. Subtlety when he had a crush had never really been Roman’s strong suit. That was another place where Virgil was markedly different from his twin brother. Both Roman and Virgil had ways of keeping their distance from others, but where Roman put up a front of fearlessness and confidence and friendliness… Virgil seemed more likely to withdraw into himself.

Patton had learned that, and many other things about Virgil, slowly as meetings for the research project gradually developed into hanging out regularly and casually. Patton picked up on things about Virgil relatively quickly. He gets quiet and irritable when he’s actually anxious about something. He tends to catastrophize, especially when it comes to academics. He hasn’t yet learned how to accept compliments—something Patton didn’t let deter him from giving them. He hopes that the more he’s able to expose Virgil to them, the easier it will eventually get for him to accept them.

Patton learned that Virgil is fiercely protective, too. The fastest way for Virgil to overcome his anxiety about a situation is usually when it’s related to someone he cares about. He still remembers the fire that had alighted in his eyes when someone had started harassing Roman when he, Patton, Roman, and Logan had been heading back from a party on a Friday night a couple of months ago. Logan had been the one to diffuse that particular situation, but Patton hadn’t missed the way Virgil hovered closer to his brother and looked ready to fight when he’d seen the shaken look in Roman’s eyes.

But then there were the softer moments from Virgil, too. The fleeting moments when Patton saw something gentle and relaxed from him that a secret part of Patton liked to believe were just for him. They were a sign of trust from Virgil, and Patton had always cherished that trust precisely because it was so rare.

…

April. Sophomore year.

“What time is it?” Virgil asks with a yawn. He’s sitting on the floor of his dorm, his guitar in his hands. His back is leaned up against the drawers of his desk. Patton sits on the floor across from him with his back against the cinderblock wall and his legs stretched out in front of him.

Patton digs his phone out of his pocket and checks. “Almost 1 in the morning.”

Virgil nods and strums a few chords softly. “You’re welcome to stick around, Patton, but… y’know. It’s chill if you’d rather go home.”

Patton shakes his head “I like it here,” he says. For reasons he is still figuring out, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

Patton watches him; he watches the way Virgil’s bangs fall in a soft sweep across his face, the dark eyeshadow smudged under his eyes, the slight parting of his lips as he mouths unheard lyrics. He always loves watching Virgil play guitar. There’s something about watching him hold the light brown acoustic instrument—like it steadies him, like it’s a shield that protects him—that Patton can’t help but love. Virgil seems to… breathe easier when he has a guitar in his hands.

“Virgil? Can I ask you something?” Patton says suddenly.

Virgil glances quickly at him, then back down at the guitar in his hands. Avoiding his eyes. “Yeah. Sure.” His voice sounds oddly tight to Patton.

“Why do you play music?”

The question seems to catch him off guard. Virgil stops short for a moment, glancing back up at Patton. His hands still against the instrument, his eyes flit away in thought.

Then—to Patton’s surprise—he sets the guitar aside.

“It… gives me a space where I can… connect, I guess?” He rubs the back of his head, glancing at Patton as if unsure whether or not his own words made sense.

“Connect?”

“Well,” Virgil pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on top of them, “Yeah. I’ve never been good at… at the whole…” He waves a hand and sighs. “At the whole ‘words’ thing that’s required for making friends or helping someone or… whatever. I’m always afraid I’m gonna say the wrong thing, or make them feel awkward, or… shit, I don’t know. But music is different. It…” He huffs a frustrated sigh as the words escape him. Then he tosses Patton a wry smile. “See what I mean? Words aren’t really my thing. Music is different, though.”

Patton nods. He glances around at the MCR and Dear Evan Hansen poster on walls of Virgil’s side of the room. “I think I get it. Music lets you speak from where you are emotionally at a given moment, and people can come to you—or your music—to find that connection and community. It… lets you express yourself, and by doing that, lets you connect to other people.”

When Patton looks back at Virgil, he’s looking at him with something like disbelief. But there’s a softness and light in his eyes that makes Patton’s stomach flutter. “Yeah,” Virgil says eventually. “Exactly.” Patton meets his gaze with a small smile, even as he feels suddenly like Virgil can see all the parts of himself that he wants to hide.

The corner of Virgil’s mouth quirks slightly and he digs a small purple leather notepad out of his back pocket. He grabs a pen from the top of his desk and scribbles something down.

“Whatcha writing?” Patton asks curiously.

Virgil folds it and slips it back into his pocket. “Nothing, Pat.” He still has that soft kind of smile and look in his eyes even as he grabs his guitar and pulls it back into his lap.

…

Present.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Planets Align!” The emcee shouts into the mic as he runs on stage and the band waves as they exit to the cheers of the crowd. Patton applauds them and briefly considers moving closer to the stage before deciding against it. He’d never done well with tight crowds.

The sun has dipped below the horizon now, the sky darkening quickly. The lights from the stage bleed out onto the grass clearing, providing some lighting of the crowd itself as well. The air is a bit colder now, but Patton doesn’t mind. Besides, all the people around him moving and dancing have helped keep it from getting too cold anyway.

“Next up, the ones you’ve all been waiting for. Let’s hear it for… SANDERS!”

Patton lets out a cheer as the crowd screams. He sees Virgil’s twin brother—though you’d never know it from how differently they do make up and their hair—run on stage with his arms up to encourage the crowd’s response. The cheers get louder, and Roman grins and strikes a hero pose. He’s energized. Patton smiles at his evident excitement.

Virgil follows behind him, an electric guitar strapped to his back. Even from his distance from the stage, Patton can see him shaking his head at his brother’s antics. He gives a small, appreciative wave to the crowd. His eyes scan it, and a part of Patton can’t help but wonder if he’s looking for him someone.

Reasoning, though, reminds him that Virgil said he always tries to get a feel for the size of a crowd when he goes out on stage at a venue for the first time. It had started as a nervous thing—how many people might see me fail?—but as Virgil’s confidence in performing grew, it had mostly just become a habit.

“What is UP, everybody?” Roman says into the mic. He’s wearing a bright red leather jacket with a white shirt underneath, shiny gold skinny jeans, and red high top converse. “We’re so glad you could come out tonight. How about this awesome weather, yeah?”

More cheers. Patton watches as Virgil pulls the guitar from around his back with a smile. He’s in his familiar hoodie, purple shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, and his black sneakers with purple laces. At first glance, he doesn’t seem too nervous—Patton had long ago gotten in the habit of glancing at him to check if he’s okay when he knows Virgil might be getting anxious—but it’s hard to tell from this distance.

“My brother, Virgil, and I thought we’d kick things off with an original song. How’s that sound, guys, gals, and nonbinary pals?” There’s louder cheering, and the two of them waste no time starting a song that Patton remembers from previous concerts of theirs he’d attended.

…

November. Junior Year.

Patton’s phone dings while he’s eating lunch in the student union and flipping through an education textbook to study for his quiz tomorrow on Vygotsky’s Zone of Proximal Development. Exams are quickly approaching, and Patton had always struggled to remember theorists’ names for some reason.

It’s a text from Roman. Is V with you?

Patton frowns and types back quickly. No. It’s Tuesday. Then he sends a second text. Why?

The student union is bustling with students breezing through to grab lunch before rushing off to the library or their class. Groups are clustered around tables to hash out the details of final projects as their deadlines approach in the next week or two. Exhausted English majors slump over their stale coffee cups and computers as they edit their final paper for the eighth time. Engineering students running on caffeine and spite chug another energy drink before hurrying off to the lab building. A couple others that Patton can see are watching Netflix in a desperate attempt to give themselves a break before plunging back into the grind of end-of-the-semester assignments.

Roman’s reply comes almost immediately. He sent me a single letter text which usually means he’s freaking out but idek where he is

Patton stands up and forgets his half-eaten sandwich, dropping it in the compost bin as he slings his backpack over his shoulder and hurries out of the building. Have you tried calling him? He texts quickly.

R: Yeah. No response… just lemme know if you see him or if he texts you or something ok

Patton rolls his eyes. As if he’s just going to go about his day and not try to help. Especially if V might be freaking out. We’ll find him, Roman. You check the science center and I’ll check the music floor of Stokes Hall.

R: ok.

R: Thanks

Patton turns his ringer on at full volume and braces against the cold air as he hurries to the building beside the Student Union. The November air is biting. Students bustle with their noses tucked into their scarves and red fingers curled around coffee cups. There was no snow on the ground, but the grass still crunches under Patton’s shoes as he hurries across the quad towards Stokes Hall. His light blue beanie is pulled low over his light brown hair.

He’s wishing he had a scarf to hide his nose in—instead opting to try to tuck it into the sleeves of the sweatshirt tied around his shoulders—when he walks straight into someone.

“Shit! I’m so sorry—”

“Virgil?” Patton asks, immediately recognizing the voice. He looks up, and Virgil seems frozen for a moment. It only takes Patton a second to realize that his eyes are red and sunken slightly. His usual sweep of hair is a disheveled mess under the hood of his sweatshirt that engulfs his frame.

If Patton’s being honest, he looks… rough. Concern twists in Patton’s chest.

“I’m so sorry, Patton. I’m an idiot, I just wasn’t watching where—”

“Hey, it’s all good, Virge,” Patton says, quickly but sincerely. He places his hands on Virgil’s shoulder to anchor him. “Breathe.”

Virgil laughs but it’s humorless and shrugs out from under his grip. Patton frowns. “I’m fine. I know I look like a mess, but really. It’s fine now. I was just. Um. Coming outside for some air.”

Patton considers the deflection and decides to meet Virgil half-way. “I could use some too.”

“You don’t have to do that—”

“Honest, V. The cold air is kind of nice.” Patton slips his phone out of his pocket and sends a quick text to Roman. Got him. He offers a small, reassuring smile to Virgil.“ You wanna take a seat?”

Virgil meets his gaze, then glances away. He seems to think about it for a moment, then relents with a slight sag to his shoulders. “Sure. Fine.”

Patton wanders over to a bench across the pathway and takes a seat. He looks around as students rush quickly towards their classes, smiling brightly as a service dog trots dutifully beside his owner and pushes the button to open the door as the student hurries inside. He intentionally keeps his gaze from lingering on Virgil, even as he hesitates before sitting beside him.

Virgil waits until most of the students have rushed off before breaking the silence between them. “You aren’t going to ask?”

Patton glances over at him. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and you seemed reluctant to talk about it…. Should I ask?”

“No. Yes?” Virgil groans, zipping up his hoodie against the chilly air. “It wasn’t anything like. That bad. Y’know? I just get… anxiety attacks sometimes, and sometimes they get…” He trails off. Patton senses more than sees the way Virgil glances quickly at him. “Anyway. I’m fine now.”

Patton isn’t sure what to say. He’d known for a long time now that Virgil struggled with anxiety. That Virgil had anxiety attacks doesn’t exactly surprise him, and it definitely isn’t off-putting or anything of the sort. But Patton hates the way Virgil keeps trying to deflect… something. Judgement. Concern. Patton suddenly and fiercely wishes Virgil would just let someone care about him. Let someone love him.

Patton thinks maybe he already does.

“Virgil….” Patton says softly, looking at his hands folded between his knees, “It’s okay. You know that, right? You can talk to me about it. And I’m not gonna judge you or think you’re weird or that there’s anything wrong with you.”

“I… I’m fine.”

Patton lifts a shoulder. “Okay. But… it’s okay if you aren’t, too. And either way… you’re definitely not alone. You know? You know Roman’s there for you, but… but I am too. I care about you.”

In his peripheral, he sees Virgil look at him. “Patton—”

“There you guys are!” Roman exclaims as he jogs up to the two of them. Patton smiles at Virgil—who looks, for all the world, like the ground has shifted underneath him.

Patton wants to ask him why. He never does.

…

Present.

SANDERS has played through five songs, which means they’re nearing the end of their set. Patton is beaming. Virgil and Roman play off each other so well, and their music seems to be a blend of both of them in a way. They balance each other on stage. They’re fun to watch. Patton can’t help but think, though he may be biased, that if they really wanted to… they could make a career out of it.

But then they do something that surprises Patton, and apparently everyone else too from the way the crowd starts to murmur.

Virgil trades out his electric guitar for his light brown acoustic one. Roman grabs a wooden stool from one of the wings and sets it in the middle of the stage. Virgil adjusts the strap of the guitar around his shoulders, nodding his thanks to Roman.

“So I hope you all don’t mind if we close out with something a little different than our usual pace,” Virgil is saying into the wireless mic attached to him. “But I lost a bet against Roman, and that means I gotta do this.”

“If I lost I was gonna have to wear jorts for this concert. You all should be thanking me,” Roman quips back through his own mic. There’s a chuckle from Virgil as well as the crowd.

“Yeah, well. This is a song I wrote over the course of… probably about a year. It’s about someone very… important to me. He couldn’t be here tonight, but… he’s pretty great. Anyway, it’s a little different, so uh.” Even under the stage lights, Patton thinks he can see Virgil flushing slightly. “I hope you all like it.”

Virgil starts strumming and all Patton can do is watch him, transfixed by the sound of an acoustic guitar and the sight of Virgil under a spotlight on stage. It’s a much softer song already than any other song in their entire set. Virgil ducks his head slightly, his black sneaker tapping out the ¾ meter. And then Virgil starts to sing.

“When I was younger I saw my daddy cry, and curse at the wind.

He broke his own heart and I watched as he tried to reassemble it.

And my momma swore that she would never let herself forget.

And that was the day that I promised I’d never sing of love if it does not exist.

But darlin’ you are the only exception. You are the only exception…”

As Virgil sings, Patton can’t help but feel rooted to the spot. Virgil sitting and playing his acoustic guitar reminds Patton suddenly of that moment again back in Virgil’s dorm room. That moment of honesty and openness from him that always felt so rare. Patton feels like he’s experiencing that again, despite the crowd and the spotlights. Because this is not performance-Virgil, this is just…. Virgil. At his most honest. At his mot exposed. And it’s breathtaking.

Patton doesn’t even fully realize that he’s moving closer to the stage until he almost trips over a girl that’s swaying and holding her phone with a flashlight up in the air.

Virgil breaks into the second verse, and Patton feels his stomach fluttering all over again at the sound of his voice.

“Well maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul that love never lasts.

And we’ve got to find other ways to make it alone or keep a straight face.

And I’ve always lived like this. Keeping a comfortable distance.

And up until now I had sworn to myself that I’m content with loneliness,

‘Cuz none of it was ever worth the risk.

Well you are the only exception. You are the only exception…”

And a part of Patton—a part he’s afraid to admit to—suddenly starts to grow insistent with the realization that he might be really, truly, unequivocally in love with the person singing on the stage in this moment. The one with his bangs falling into eyes that had always looked to Patton to be a little bit afraid and a lot brave.

This song, this moment, is no exception to that. Music, for Virgil, had always started from some place deeply personal. It is what allows him to connect to others, after all. And Patton doesn’t know if the song is about him, but he wants it to be. Because that deeply personal space that Virgil is singing from resonates with Patton in a way that leaves only one thought repeating in his head. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Almost as if he hears the thought itself, Virgil looks up and starts scanning the crowd again as he reaches the bridge.

“I’ve got a tight grip on reality

But I can’t let go of what’s in front of me here.” He’s scanning, scanning, scanning…

“I know you’re leaving in the morning. When you wake up,

Leave me with some kind of proof it’s not a dream. Oh…”

And then his eyes settle squarely on Patton, and Patton swears he hears the very faint catch of Virgil’s breath through the mic.

Patton gives him a small, faint smile. There’s a brief moment where uncertainty flickers through Virgil’s dark eyes, and then something sets firmly in them. As if he’s made some kind of split-second decision. Virgil stands up from the stool and starts making his way towards the stage stairs, continuing to play and sing as he does so.

“You are the only exception. You are the only exception….”

Patton loses sight of him as he steps down to ground level, the crowd blocking his view. But Virgil keeps singing that line over and over, you are the only exception, as if imploring Patton to hear it and understand it and know it is meant for him. As if perhaps Virgil has to repeat it himself to fully believe in its truth, but each time he sings it, Patton can hear the conviction growing. Far ahead of him, Patton can see people shifting around in the mosh pit in front of him.

Patton doesn’t move. He doesn’t think he knows how to.

And then through the crowd of people in front of him steps Virgil, still playing. Still singing. And Patton can’t help but notice his eyes look wide and scared and vulnerable—but unwavering—as he sings the final line.

“But I’m on my way to believing…”

He plays the final chord and stands there, looking up at Patton. He’s so close. The guitar and a few inches is all that separates them. Patton swallows past the lump in his throat and brings a hand up to cup Virgil’s jaw before leaning his forehead against Virgil’s and whispering.

“Can I kiss you?”

His eyes are closed, so he doesn’t see Virgil’s relieved, crooked grin. But he feels it when Virgil presses his lips to his own.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #romantic moxiety #moxiety #romantic moxiety fanfiction #fluff #crowds #cursing #kissing #softness #sappiness #virgil sanders #patton sanders

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thedistantstorm · 4 years

Text

Tribute: A Kalluzeb Story (pt 2)

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Pairings: Kallus/Zeb (kalluzeb)

Chapter: 2 of 3?? (still TBD, apparently I have a lot to say...)

AO3 Link Here

Summary: Zeb works on a gift for Kallus, to replace something he’s lost. It’s a gateway to a conversation Zeb wants to have in the future, but there’s something a bit more urgent they need to talk about first.

Notes: Thank y’all so so much for your lovely comments and likes and reblogs, they seriously make my day. All you kalluzebs out there are the nicest freakin’ people I’ve encountered in fandom and I’m having such a ball writing these two for us. Not to mention getting to explore Hera’s relationship with them is something I’ve wanted to do for a hot minute now, so please excuse my self-indulgent hurt/comfort.

<< Previously // Next >>

Kallus enters the grounded Ghost to a beeping, ornery droid and the sound of the exhaust fans roaring. It's just shy of daybreak, and Yavin 4 is alight with parchment colored skies and fog that creeps silently through the trees. The temperature is cool at this hour, good for working outdoors. The morning shifts here start early.

He catches the faintest hint of lacquer, some protective finish he doesn't entirely recognize. It's stronger outside than inside the Ghost, and it only takes a quick glance around to understand why. Something had been on the crates sprawled across the cargo bay, the ones that became tables for anyone who ate away from the mess hall or seating that they'd drag outside for an impromptu fireside debrief in the dark of the night, since the smoke keeps bugs away. Whatever it was, it's not there now, though he does see his suspected culprit.

"Garazeb," He says, careful not to speak too loud. It's still early, and his voice has a tendency to carry. Off to the side, he sees Hera curled up on an old weapons crate. He isn't sure how long she's been there, but she'll likely be sore. He rounds a makeshift worktable to see Zeb sitting on the floor beside her, slumped over on himself, chin lurching closer to his knees before he tries unconsciously to right himself.

Chopper quietly rearranges some of the crates to help Kallus, commenting that they're his problem now. Somehow, he doubts that very much, but he knows better than to argue with this particular droid, regardless of his opinion.

Judging by the way Zeb's sitting, angled with one shoulder against the crate Hera's using as a bed, there's a good chance he'd attempted to wake her, and in his attempts not to frighten her, fallen asleep himself. Orrelios was a good liar, and bags didn't show under his eyes. Still, Kallus knew Zeb wasn't sleeping well.

He crouches and places one hand on both their shoulders. Zeb only seems to relax further, clearly recognizing him by touch or maybe smell, his senses are far keener than a human's. Hera's chuckle is thick and sleep-laiden, but she blinks her eyes open at him.

"Looks like we've been caught," She grumbles without malice, nudging Zeb in the back with her boot. He jerks awake immediately, only for Kallus to change his hold on the Lasat's shoulder to a palm on his cheek, preventing him from bashing their heads together. "I thought you were going to carry me to bed," Hera accuses.

"Yer the one who said 'five more minutes, I'm finally comfy,'" He mouths back, tilting his head away from Kallus's hand to look at Hera, "If he's here to yell at us, it's on you."

Hera rolls her eyes. "I don't think he's here to yell. I think he's going to send us to bed."

"Bwah, buabahba bah!" Unconcerned about his volume, Chopper insists that somebody should. Whether he means that in regards to yelling or sending them to bed, it's anyone's guess.

"General," Kallus holds his arms out, indicative that he will be the one to lift her, seeing as Zeb's eyes are already drooping again.

"He-ra," She reminds him with a firm poke to the chest. He hums something agreeable, though he doesn't bother to oblige her by calling her only her given name. He's coming off a week-long mission. It's hard to switch off the work part of his brain, though it gets easier all the time.

"Draven pushed back our debrief to noon. Should give us all a decent lie in," He looks down to Zeb, already snoring.

"Great," She exhales, as Kallus scoops her up. He turns them sideways to navigate the doorway. Wryly, she asks, "You gonna carry him to bed too?"

This time, he does drop the formalities. "Hera," He warns, voice low. He's too in control to let a blush cross his face, but his lips quirk uncomfortably.

She looks up at him, as if transitioning from asleep to fully awake with a single blink. Realizing she's made him uncomfortable, she says, "You can put me down."

"Is that an order?"

She sighs. They treat her like glass, and it's annoying. "I can walk by myself."

"I suppose you can, but," He looks away. He's an eloquent man, but the lack of required restraint (no matter how many times they encourage him to say what's on his mind, to be human, imperfect), always makes him hesitate.

She smiles, just a little, and yields, "To be honest, my foot's asleep."

"Ah. Best if we proceed as is," He says aloud. It's a weak excuse and a blatant lie, but he doesn't question it.

"He didn't leave his work out, did he?"

"It did not appear so, no," Kallus whispers. To speak any louder in the silent ship would be like yelling. Chopper is already waiting for her, her cabin doors thrown open. "If you wouldn't mind, Chopper-" He begins.

The droid runs into his good leg, though not hard enough to hurt, and begins fussing over Hera as he lays her in her bunk. He catches a salute as he steps back. That means Chopper heard about the rescheduled debrief, and that he's grateful enough to come get him later, should he oversleep.

It hasn't happened yet, but one of these days, it might. Kallus is exhausted. He still has another sentient to drag off to bed, and despite Hera's quips, he very much doubts he could carry Zeb the same way. All things considered, it would be an uncomfortable, logistical nightmare, even though he'd likely be capable of the actual lifting.

He makes it back to the hold and pauses, taking the scene in for just a moment. If his heart clenches with something fond and he watches his fellow rebel breathe deep and slow for more time than necessary, no one will know. He steps over the threshold, footsteps light across the durasteel.

"Garazeb," He calls, reluctant to disturb him. Once he's close enough, he leans down to put a hand on his shoulder, shaking. "You shouldn't sleep here."

Whatever the reply is, it's muddled and incoherent. Kallus exhales. He knows if he sits down on this crate, he'll fall asleep on it like Hera, and it certainly won't reduce the kink Zeb's going to have in his neck from twisting himself to use the crate as a pillow.

"That cannot be comfortable," He comments with mirth.

"Wha?" Zeb's eyes are unfocused, and it takes him a second to focus on Kallus. "Hera?"

"Tucked in. Come along, Garazeb."

Zeb shuffles to his feet, Kallus close enough to steady him. "Mission go okay?"

"Yes," He breathes. He's alive, so he counts it as a victory. His identity as Fulcrum may have been compromised, but he still has a bit of a wide reach, and now, a potential successor, but Zeb won't retain any of it, so he doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he asks, "Have you finished your project?"

"Mmm," Zeb agrees muzzily.

Their journey through the vessel takes longer than it had for him to whisk Hera back to her bunk, but Kallus is happy to help the larger man stumble along. In the weeks since returning from Lothal, he’s found Hera, but more frequently, Zeb, asleep in a myriad of strange places.

Grief is… tricky. Kallus cannot say he does not wade through his own on a near-daily basis, but he feels like this is something he can do, something valuable and worthwhile. He will see Zeb and Hera through this. He’ll check on Sabine through cryptic messages and make sure Chopper does not fry his circuits keeping tabs on their remaining crew. He’d have done it even if he didn’t know Kanan or Ezra personally, even if he hadn’t felt indebted to them. When he’d realized it, it felt like a weight he hadn’t registered shaking itself loose. It was something he wanted to do for those who remained, because he cares for them. Not that the dead or the lost do not matter; He thinks of them often. Jarrus’s steadfast calm, his otherworldly compassion and understanding. Ezra’s unyielding hope, his fierce resolve, and his courage. For someone so young to have made the decisions he had, to carry on despite everything pitted against him… well, Kallus can admit to himself that he could only aspire to be that strong.

The door to their shared room opens. That is a recent development, but Kallus is a nomad amid the Rebel base, with scarce few belongings, all of which (sans spare clothes, which are standard issue) are carried on his person. He holds a hand out to spot Zeb as he takes the boost of the small but sturdy ladder to the top bunk. The Lasat had been sleeping there ever since…

Well, Kallus had reasoned, at the time, Ezra did say it was his again…

“Got someth’n t’show ya, later,” Zeb murmurs, voice almost a rumble.

Kallus can’t help himself, reaching a hand out to cup one side of Zeb’s face. The two of them are quite the pair. War-torn and jagged, sometimes barely holding themselves together. They’ve lived through enough to know that there’s only so much they can hold back. To the rest of the galaxy, of course, there isn’t much that would make them seem less rigid or frightening, certainly nothing that could make either of them less dangerous adversaries. But to each other, to a comrade who understands, to a friend who walks a similar path…

Zeb presses his face into Kallus’s palm, the fine fur there soft and velveteen against calloused skin. “I’ll come for you after my debrief,” Kallus promises, endeavoring not to wake him later when he rises to meet Draven with Hera. “Get some sleep.”

Yellow-green eyes open for just a moment, something warm and unspoken in their depths. A large, four-digit hand covers Kallus’s, squeezes his fingers tightly when he begins to pull away. “You too.”

Once their hands separate, Kallus discards his jacket and belt, toes off his boots. He hears Chopper heading down the hall towards their room, sees the door crack a few centimeters in the center as the droid checks on them. He dips his head in a nod and Chopper retreats. He turns off the lights and takes the three short steps across the room to his bunk. Zeb is already snoring softly, the sound infinitely soothing to the ex-ISB agent. By the time his head touches Zeb’s old pillow, Kallus is already asleep.

#kalluzeb #zeb x kallus #garazeb orrelios #alexsandr kallus #star wars rebels #swr fanfiction #sw rebels fanfiction #which tag do i use? idk all of them??#my writing #sw fanfiction #rebels remembered #rebelsremembered 2020

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