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virginburial · 2 years

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.·:*¨༺ sextape. ♱ bucky barnes ༻¨*:·.

SUMMARY: in which you bother your upstairs neighbor or alternatively, in which you, a cam girl, try to do your job and accidentally wake up your neighbor

SHIP: fem reader!bucky barnes, FATWS bucky barnes WARNINGS: explicit content, mentions of sex work, mentions of daddy issues, explicit language, random story-telling/plot

WORD COUNT: 4.8K SONG: https://open.spotify.com/track/4rEGJ9KirDlKiOHxqVwcVg?si=a3c34ab37c7749d0

A/N: hi everyone! Buffy here, this is my first oneshot on here that will be posted on ao3 and wattpad later in the week. i know this concept is kind of unrealistic but it’s also the best idea i had for bucky bc i’m writing him for clout, it was hard to think of anything else. i apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes. forgot to mention that i’m super adhd and get my letters and grammar confused. not even accidentally dropping 144 bucks on Grammarly can save me :,)) REBLOGS, NOTES, AND COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED !!

.·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.

"Alright! should we go with option one or two?"

You weren't always the outgoing type, and when you were, you were most likely in your element; but nothing could compare to how very much 'in the zone' webcamming made you. Things have been different since you were able to move on out of your childhood home; your lack of world experience hit you hard. of course, the blip added to the economic stress of it all, but you were so sure that when everyone came back, everything would be normal again, right? Something had to give. Next thing you know, you got fired from your barista job because of the workplace blip act - basically ensuring that the blipped got their jobs back. Their livelihoods. As if you haven't been scraping for your own since they all dissipated to nothing. Whatever, you were over it now. Or you presumed you were. It used to be so easy to find a job, but webcamming wasn't your final option; there was always working for the city's sewer system - yeah, fuck that.

Besides, as complicit-in-your-own-oppression being a woman may seem, the false illusion of having control over your body felt somewhat empowering. You never were big on your sexuality until you discovered webcamming, and it gave you the confidence to treasure the wonders of the sex world - sex work wasn't fun for everyone, but you were happy it was fun for you. Consider yourself privileged. It went from being scared to taking off your shirt, to randomly buying fun wigs and toys to wear and mess around with during your shows. Rent would be on the back burner as corsets and vibrators started to rack up a bill with your bank. It didn't matter, though, men were throwing money at you, and it all comes back; a complete cycle.

Sure, there were the downsides, like dealing with someone who lacked respect or was just indecent, but that was the magic of the internet or at least chaturbate.com. All you had to do was block them. You were laying it all out there, and there was nothing they could do or say to make you feel any more naked. It did hurt still. And it does ruin the overarching mood of the so-called performance-please don’t try to do that thing where you settle for webcamming over an acting career ... it's just sad. Like broadway, hecklers get ushered out, and the show always continues. Then it goes all over the place. Either way, it happens.

Nonetheless, you were still you, just with a new hobby. It's no different than being a writer or a painter, someone who got a hold of art the way they want to see it. The point is, you were still you, but you were finally home in your skin, and at the end of it all, the digital footprint will become privatized by law, so we can't snoop in on what Mark Zuckerberg or Grimes is doing. Everything matters, and it doesn't, so you go with toy number two despite the comments telling you to use toy number one. You were a tease like that, and you loved making those paypigs wait until frustration because of the payout. It was just a basic vibrator with the craziest settings imaginable. You tested it out before the show, and it already made you weak enough not even to consider it. But you did because you learned the fun way not to judge a book by its cover.

The cam girls get to have personalized websites for their business, and you took it upon yourself to make the website so very much yourself. You didn't have to pretend with your audience. think of it like MySpace. You even had a bit of having scene aesthetic to your site, but it was all centered around you. You, you, you, what would your audience ever do without you?

You slowly set the vibrator on high, the words are in Japanese, and you managed to memorize some of the characters to know what it means, spreading your legs open to reveal skimpy pink laced panties that complimented your skin color. There was already a puddle forming on the base of your panties from earlier and then throughout the day. Mainly because you and your neighbor were chatting up about the new upstairs neighbor. The man seemed disheveled and gloomy, almost like a lost puppy, and you had a thing for strays. You wouldn't say it out loud today because everyone is so political, but you liked the idea of fixing someone. You were probably projecting and wished someone would correct you, but putting all that energy into someone becoming better, helping them, that interested you. Cry for help, probably? Not like anyone could hear over the excessive amount of moaning you were doing. Either way, he looked sad; you liked sad, repressed trauma aside, you thought he was handsome. Then you let the thought of him simmer down in your mind, which was a mistake on your part, leading down to you concluding that your attractiveness towards older men was either your father's or Lana del Rey's fault. Somehow.

You began fidgeting at the sensations rolling through your body as you tried to keep your thighs from squeezing shut, but it was hard; then the sound of coin slot machines started rolling from the computer. You felt like Schrodinger's dog, the sound triggering you to shut your legs, taking deep breaths as a slight giggle left your mouth. Blood ran to your cheeks like a marathon, causing the chat to compliment how cute you looked when flustered. You peaked at your panties to notice how the puddle suddenly grew into an ocean, flopping back to your bed and turning on the vibrator again. You thought it would be funny if you teased your audience again, flipping the setting up and placing it on the base of your areola as you stared into the camera. Glittery makeup and lipstick smudged as your blonde wig threatened to fly off. You let it slowly trail down your stomach - the vibrations from your abdomen were already setting you off - steadily going down south until you heard three loud knocks on your door.

"Shit!" You whisper under your breath as the chat freaks out with you. You look at the chat and try to remain calm; this usually never happens. One; because your neighbors don't care, and two, you're never that loud. you weakly smile. "I'm going to put the show on hold, i'll be right back, Lovelies." you kiss the camera, saying it all with a defeated tone as you quickly pause the show. You grab the pink cheetah robe you've had since you were fifteen - back when you had a bit of a princess aesthetic - and ran to the door, struggling to put it on as you made sure you covered just about everything. damnit, son of a bitch cunt whore slut, the colorful words started to pile up in your mind as you reached for the front door. you have got to be fucking kidding me

in all his exhausted glory; there he is, the mysterious upstairs neighbor

he looks timid, almost like he didn't want to bother you. meanwhile, all the blood from your cheeks went directly back to your cunt. "hello, um..." he sighs softly. "I haven't really set up my bed yet; I kind of just have this mattress that's on the floor." the look in his eyes screamed 'why did I bring that up??' as you tug on your robe. "so I can hear everything, and I haven't been able to get some sleep." you heard him just fine, but you were to busy to notice what he was wearing; grey sweatpants and a black tank top; yes, he was packing. The thing that caught you the most off guard besides his sweet-raspy voice was his metal arm. You grew up in a small town with a vast military population, so you knew and had family and were friends with people who had prosthetics. His, however, was strange. The metal was much more refined, it looked very, very, very expensive. You might just be assuming, but why does a man with such a costly arm live in the dump you live in? just a thought as you avert your gaze back to him. "I'm so sorry, i'll be sure to keep the noise down... i-i don't have any guests, it's just ... me." why the fuck would you say that?! you scold yourself as the man cracks a small smile and looks down at your robe. "cool...?" he says in the same tone.

you start to fumble. "I-I'm sorry I-I dunno why I said that sometimes my mouth is faster than my brain-especially in situations like this." you ramble a bit. Make. This. Less. Awkward. I'm. Begging. You. "I'm Y/N, by the way."

The man still has the small smile he had from your confession. He seemed rather amused at how quickly you shattered in his presence. you couldn't tell if it was attractive or unbelievable how someone could look like a nirvana song. "Bucky." he introduces himself, and suddenly, the mystery is solved; his name is Bucky. he then points to the wig struggling to stay on your head. "I'm guessing you're ... cosplaying is the word, right?" he takes a pause. "cosplaying Hannah Montana-" "-oh no no no." you take off the wig, revealing your loose and messy bun/braids, a few pieces of your hair falling to your face as you, in sitcom fashion, throw the wig to the side. "I'm... I'm an actress," you say confidently. You two just kind of stand there looking at each other before your maternal instincts kick in, it's midnight, and he looks tired. You bite your lip hesitantly. "come in, I can make you some tea. It's the least I can do for waking you up." you open the door a little for him, not giving him a chance to reject you as you reveal how snug and perfect the robe fit around all your curves. he noticed that. And just like that, he strolls into your home.

You go to the kitchen, your thighs rubbing with every step - just reminding you that you were still on the clock and that you were still very, very, very desperate for some touch. You just had to make Bucky some tea now, did you? You grab the sleepytime tea box that sat elegantly on your microwave and fill the mug with the words; "maybe swearing will help" printed with water. Making tea was damn near ritualistic. You can't help but feel Bucky's presence, though. Lurking in the shadows and looking at all the fun knick-knacks you collected. You turn to him. "so, you from New York?" you ask.

he nods. "Brooklyn born and raised. I just came back from living in Wakanda for some time. Also spent a little time here and there..." no actual specifics besides Wakanda and Brooklyn. "you from Brooklyn?" he asked, but you shook your head. "small-town girl, I'm from the south. I moved up here during the blip." you explained. Bucky nodded. "to become an actress? Like on broadway?" he asks.

He remembered your white lie. How sweet. You squeeze your thighs a little and gulp. "n-no." you laugh a little. "I came here to get away from losing my brother in the blip and start school. I'm studying biochemical engineering. I wanted to study theatre and the arts, but my dad told me that it was a waste of a college education and that he wouldn't pay if I went and did theatre. but now that my brother is back, he can focus on ruining his life instead of mine..." you ramble a bit before seeing the look on Bucky's face. he was intrigued at the little spice you were able to throw in the conversation. you bite your lip. "sorry, I shouldn't be trauma dumping on you like that...dad's, yknow?" he nods in agreement. "but i've always wanted to be an actress-"

"so, you're not an actress? you're a biochemical engineer student?"

You feel a pang of guilt for lying, but you realize now that you should probably tell him, considering that he's your neighbor, and warn him about the cons of your newfound profession, such as the noise and noise complaints. you scrunch your nose and tilt your head to the side. "I am, but not in the traditional sense ... I'm a porn actress, webcam, actually. I started a couple of months ago after losing my job after the blip." you keep it short and sweet, turning over to the microwave to fetch him his tea before turning back around, you didn't want to see his reaction, but you did, and he looked relatively unfazed. Most men scream and run in the other direction, weak, but Bucky... doesn't care. You decide to change the topic. "what about you? why are you here?"

"...I was in the Army, just came back to get my life back on track, have to do court-mandated therapy now. I should hate it, but a small part of me is glad I'm going." court-mandated therapy? no wonder he's unfazed by a cam girl. "I'm sorry, I know what pornography is, but you said you did webcamming? what...is that?"

you narrow your eyes at him. "you...don't know what caming is?"

He shakes his head. "nope. I'm old-fashioned, don't even have those fancy smartphones." he says as he pulls out a Nokia. "holy shit." you say as he beholds the ancient relic. this was going to be good. Suddenly, you felt your clit throb as he glanced at your robe; you couldn't help but want to show him. You suddenly remembered all the thoughts you left on the back burner about him, simmering down until it boiled and exploded. You were at your boiling point,.your cheeks turned red as you pulled out your phone, going to your site as he keeps staring at you. he could tell, he could tell that you were holding out; considering that you were standing right in front of him and you had your legs crossed. You didn't want to show him your old shows, but at the same time, you didn't want to show him anyone else. If he was going to watch, it had to be you somehow. You pressed on your most recent one from two days ago, skipping ahead before showing off yourself in a sexy nurse costume. You pull the phone away before he gets to peek, though. "you sure you want to see this?" you asked for his consent.

bucky nervously laughs, his smile suddenly getting cheeky as he rubs his chin. "I mean, Y/N, you're showing me pornography-not like I haven't seen it before." his smile slowly turns to a smirk. He was so shy at first, maybe you said too much, overspilled, but no, that wasn't the case. he wasn't getting comfortable with you. He was somewhat charming you. or at least, appeared that way. "cmon, you can show me." he smirks softly at you.

Fuck. Me.

Without hesitation, you show him. You could see his pupils dilate right away, his cheeks getting a little pink as Bucky... studies you. He's not engaging in the content, just analyzing it like an accountant. He holds the phone and observes as you start to feel hot, skin sizzling-almost like a hot flash of some kind-as his eyes follow your every move. he glances over at you. "arent your other neighbors concerned about how loud you are?" he asks almost mockingly, teasingly, but he was serious. You shake your head as your moans echo throughout your apartment. "my neighbor on the left is my best friend from middle school, who told me I should look into this. The neighbor on the right is Miss Chen. She's hard of hearing; I told her I had a cat. and the neighbor across the hall, Amelia, is a flight attendant. Lucky, right?" you try to pause the video, but Bucky is mesmerized by your movements. "so all you do is...sit in front of a camera naked? And people just give you money? And it's live? How...innovative." he said like it piqued his interest. you began to laugh nervously as you finally managed to pause it. he could see it, how visibly nervous you got around him. he furrowed his eyebrows. "why so shy? You weren't earlier." his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

You decide to play his game. "first of all, it's not just sitting in front of a camera and looking pretty. Second of all...whatever happened to being old-fashioned? aren’t you going to buy me dinner first before you look at me that way?"

Bucky looks down a bit bashfully, handing you back the phone as you start to question his motives. "is the real reason you came down here was to quiet me down? or something else?" you ask. You had to have asked. You were okay with whatever answer, though. He's hesitating, though, Bucky glances back at you. "well, it's hard for me to sleep regardless, thought I'd be more tired if I came down here then go back up, but I'm wide awake...why? Were you hoping I came down here because you were moaning like that?" he asked. The conversation was starting to cross the rhetorical-question-turned-confession territory. A small part of you wanted to say yes; ever since he moved in last week, you'd cross paths with him, and he'd stay on your mind. But hooking up with your upstairs neighbor? Webcamming was one thing; being with someone, after how lonely the blip was, was another thing. but something about Bucky made your stomach turn into Simone Biles; flips and tricks and jumping through hoops at the mention of or the glances from Bucky. "...moan like what?" you raised an eyebrow, smirking.

Bucky seems hesitant, maybe he didn't want the conversation to continue, but it wasn't until he was staring at the space between your chest did it hit you that maybe he was too shy to make a move. Yet, he looked so eager, something was holding him back. You realized you weren't the only nervous person here. But you had to try, and you had to try to get him. You lean in a little closer. "cmon Bucky, why so shy? You weren't earlier." you mocked him, playfully teasing him as you slowly grabbed his hand. "may I?" you asked him. It only felt right. he nodded his head and watched as you guided his hand down to your core, his calloused fingers running against your inner thigh as you slowly humped on his hand, rubbing your clothed cunt on his rough palms as a soft moan left your lips. he looked at you in awe, almost like he couldn't believe you were real. You keep a steady pace as you hold onto his shoulders, smiling a little at him because his reaction was priceless. "did it sound like that?" you innocently asked as lust glazed over your eyes.

He lets out a shaky breath. "oh .. fuck..." he said in a throaty tone.

You watched him crumble as he grabbed you and smashed your lips against his, teeth hitting teeth as you eagerly kissed him back, his hand staying still on your cunt as its presence set you off. The first thing Bucky does is undo the loose knot on your robe; it's almost like that's what he wanted to do the moment you answered the door. He reveals your breasts, his sweet kisses never breaking from the fact that you were naked besides your wet panties. Your jaw starts to buckle and hurt as your bottom lip turns red from the friction. Bucky pulls away, practically panting as he delicately brushes your hair behind your ear. You can't help but notice that Bucky was still a gentleman in all the tension. Even if you wanted him to pound you. You could tell this was a little unorthodox for him; maybe he truly was old-fashioned, but also very touch starved. You pull him closer by the waistband of his sweatpants, your hand slowly wandering down to his expanding tip as your index and thumb rub it. You could physically see Bucky relax into your touch as he latches on to your neck; soft kisses on your neck before going completely animalistic on your chest.

You let out a soft whine before grabbing his face and passionately kissing him, your thighs squeezing around his hand. You pull away from him, both of you panting as you hold his warm hand, noticing a thin coat of your wetness before dragging him into your room. A piece of you wanted him to bend you over the counter, but you voted against it. that's when Bucky's eyes landed on the computer. "...is it live-?" he asks. You shake your head; webcamming was your thing; it didn't mean it had to be Bucky’s. But Bucky surprises you. for a man who ‘didn't know’ how to use a laptop; he sure worked his way around it. You - laying in your bed and squeezing your thighs, raise an eyebrow and laugh. "what are you doing?" you giggled.

"hitting two birds with one stone."

He quickly finds the GO LIVE button and moves away from the frame, leaving you front and center, watching the views roll in from your loyal fans as Bucky grabs you by your chin and kisses you lustfully. You could feel your skin cry for him as your knees got weak; the kiss was out of the frame, Bucky made sure of it because, god, it would be embarrassing if anyone there recognized him. It wasn't long before you flopped down on the bed and spread your legs for him like magic. You didn't know if it was because he looked like a movie star during the golden age of Hollywood or because of how mysterious he was, but Bucky made you weak. So weak that you didn't care if this was the first and last time he would touch you. You feel his rough fingertips slowly slide off the panties you've soaked, seeing your hole overfilled with your wetness. Bucky slides his warm hand in between your folds, causing you to jerk your hips slightly, trying to keep them down as your chest starts to rise.

Bucky lets out a dry chuckle. "you're sensitive, how...cute." he mocks you.

The disgusting thing about it is that you liked how he mocked you, watching you squirm as he spits down on your clit, saliva hanging from his lips as he leans down and slips his tongue in your mouth. You open your jaw a little more so he could explore your mouth, watching him pull away before feeling the freezing metal from his other arm hit your clit at full force. At this point, that's where your heartbeat was, and the cool metal was making it worse. You gasp and let out a quiet moan as you look into Bucky's eyes; he knew that would get you. watching as you shut your thighs around his arm, he roughly pries them open. "I don't think so." he damn-near growls at you. a chill ran up your spine before feeling two cold fingers slam into your hole, your walls closing in on his index and middle finger as he holds it there. What a fucking tease. your clit was begging for attention as he looked down at you. "not so talkative now, huh?"

You arch your back, practically offering him your body as your eyes beg him to move his fingers, but he doesn't. he keeps them there to remind you of how helpless you indeed were. Not like you didn't know; you were vulnerable for him for a whole week. He slowly moves his fingers out of you, carefully rubbing them on your bottom lip before you eventually obliged and sucked them dry. The sound of coin slot machines echoed in the room as you shakily closed your legs, squeezing them shut before feeling your chest heave - you were already orgasming? To be fair, you have been teasing yourself for a good hour before Bucky waltzed in. a deep moan left your mouth as your thighs shook and coated themselves in your cum. Your back was getting sweaty as your cheeks turned bright pink. Bucky watched as your body compulsed. You could tell he loved the show but was disappointed that it wasn't him making you shake like that.

Bucky watched as your body tried to maintain itself, finally calming down after your rolling orgasm as the sound of coin slot machines went crazy. You weren't letting yourself catch a break as you felt your clit throb for more. That's when you felt Bucky move—dragging you off to the edge of the bed and sitting down. Having you lay across his lap. You've seen and read enough porn to know exactly what was going on and obliged happily. You watched him slowly take off his tank top before making it into a ball and stuffing it in your mouth; a makeshift gag, if you will. Your right-hand touched his chest and feels him up as he keeps you in a comfortable position. Now, you couldn't think about the timid and traditional man that came knocking so he could get some sleep; your mind bombarded with thoughts of the eager and somewhat perverted sweetheart that was helping you relieve yourself after pulling you away.

His hand hits your ass hard, and you gasp and whine in pain, feeling your body tense up as he smacks it again. The noises from the laptop ringing again made you want to follow through on your habit, so bucky spreads your legs and then spanks you, hitting your ass and cunt with full force. Moans with hints of pain muffled through your gag. he seems amused, seeing your clit turn red and raw from the amount of spanking he did; you shake and quiver every time he spanks you and misses; which is often. By then, you were already horny again. Bucky stuffs three fingers in you unexpectedly, causing you to let out a loud moan. His warm hand goes to your mouth, covering it and shoving the gag deeper into your mouth, causing the fabric to tickle your throat and gag reflexes. Tears come to your eyes as Bucky decides to tease you by leaving them in there. again.

You feel the walls close in on his fingers and ache for them to move, so when he finally does drive them, you feel a wave of euphoria hit you. He curled his fingers as the metal slid in and out of you, causing you to spill out in moans. You were almost glad he improvised a gag because it would be embarrassing if your neighbor, Miss Chen, realized you didn't have a cat. Your heartbeat begins to steady itself, something you were grateful for before Bucky places his cold thumb on your clit and rubbed you like he was playing a scratch-off lottery ticket. It felt like a dam broke between your thighs as you wiggled and tried not to give in so quickly. But you couldn't help it. He was overstimulating you to the extreme.

Your thighs begin to shake as a tear or two rolls down your cheek from how overwhelming it felt, but you couldn't imagine yourself being anywhere besides his lap. Feeling him spread you out and spank you as you wiggle more and more for his touch, even if your clit was starting to swell up. Bucky was too preoccupied with you that he probably didn't notice how hard he was getting; your right-hand slides over to his clothed cock as you gently squeeze it, hearing a soft but deep groan as Bucky leaves another red and purple mark on your ass. "take my fingers first, then we'll see." he raspily tells you, but you knew you weren't going to last long. You longed to have him inside of you.

And he knows.

he knows you won't last that long either, maybe he's alluding to round two? not that you had the energy to think coherent thoughts as a tsunami wave of pleasure hits you. heavy breaths as your chest rises and falls flat, as you creamed all over his hand, your cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson as his curled fingers hits the right spot one last time. if heaven was a place on earth, it was on this man's lap. you look at him, your eyes glossed over and your cheeks red as Bucky pulls out the balled up tank top out of your mouth. you pant and looked over to your laptop screen, seeing the money you made rack up more and more. speechless, you glimpsed at bucky before planting a sweet kiss on his lips, only for him to glance at you and say:

"guess I can finally sleep now." .·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.

3K notes · View notes

vegalocity · 3 years

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Secret kisses and Touching 2, 14, 22, 23, and 44. Secret Silktea relationship, except both spider fam and Monkey fam actually know! Half of them don’t care enough to say anything (Pigsy,Tang,Spider Queen,Wukong,Syntax) while the other half wants them to reveal it when they’re ready (Min Yi,MK,Mei,Goliath,Sis) - Pixel Anon

Affection meme

49. secret kisses

2. running fingers through hair

14.putting an arm around the other’s waist

22.falling asleep on the other’s shoulder

23. carrying the other one in their arms

44.sitting on the other’s lap

this took me forever to put together because for some ungodly reason i couldn't figure out the scenario

so i decided on a little vignette compilation of sorts

They knew what they were doing.

Of course they knew what they were doing. It was in either of their best interests to keep this a secret. Just because the clan had stopped their crusade to take over the city and their queen had dialed down the ‘revenge’ ideas, didn’t mean there wasn’t still bad blood between his clan and Sandy’s family.

And it wasn’t too difficult, it just meant that when they were all working together for some greater threat or whatever that they’d have to be sneaky. It was easy stealth was one of Huntsman’s greatest Attributes and suspecting Blue of anything was like suspecting a small dog of knocking over a bulldozer.

It wasn’t too hard to simply keep their hands to themselves. Or at least, it wasn’t hard for Sandy, Huntsman was quickly finding his self control lacking in regard to being in such a situation with his… well, with him. But could anyone blame him? Blue was more or less the hottest guy he’d ever ran into before and he was kinda-sorta DATING him! How could he not want to climb that like a tree at all times?

Especially when he was always being so stupidly fucking charming. Sure the ‘needlessly nice’ stuff wasn’t something he particularly appreciated, but it was starting to grow on him, if only on the amount of restraint he must have to keep it up all the time.

Soooo yeah maybe he was purposefully pushing their luck a little, but in his defense he wanted to see how much desire based frustration it would take before ol’ Blue would just pin him against a wall and make him regret wondering.

Syntax had shooed him away from being a nuisance at his worktable, so naturally, Huntsman had to go be a nuisance at someone else’s worktable. Thankfully Sandy was far more agreeable to the company, and thankfully the bid of ‘Bugging Syntax first’ kept his alibi solid. He wasn’t just going over to see Blue he just wanted to be a louse and his normal target had already locked him out of his room. And so nobody really suspected anything when he started to peer over Sandy’s side to watch him tighten this or that thing on this or that device.

And it was pretty damn fun to see just how much of a ‘nuisance’ he could be. This particular bout resulting ih Huntsman being pressed against the car engine Blue had been working on, feeling the orange hair slide between his claws and messing up the stylized mohawk and shuddering when he felt those huge hands almost entirely encompass either of his thighs while keeping him aloft. He hissed through his teeth as he felt Blue give one of his legs a testing squeeze and rolled his hips forward a bit-

“Fish Demon? I need to get another set of eyes on these schematics or I'll actually go insane.” By the time Syntax looked up from his clipboard Sandy was working on the engine again and Huntsman was leaning against his work area and had barely had the opening to whip out one of his knives and his portable sharpener.

Though Sandy’s hair was unable to be fixed and fell to a side as he smiled at Syntax and took the offered blueprints from him.

He wasn’t a big fan of those domestic snatches of time, he wasn’t.

It was mostly an instinctual response, Spiders were pack bonders, so of course when his internal senses started categorizing Sandy as ‘pack’ then he’d relax without intending to while being pulled in with a hand on his waist.

Which was definitely the reason why he was curled up to Sandy’s side, the cool slick feeling of his scales strange against his more leather-like skin. That stupid instinct was the only real reason why he felt so comfortable and like he could practically fall asleep like this.

He felt Blue’s hand gently start running up and down his side and dammit that wasn’t playing fair, it wasn’t his fault that he had been having sleeping problems lately and was rapidly getting drowsy.

He could feel Blue’s hum as the world started to drift away-

“Hey Sandy what do you think- Uhhhh”

“Oh, hello Xiaotian.”

“You know you’ve got a spider on you, right?”

“Oh yeah, Looked like he was having some paranoia problems, took a bit of wheedling to get out but Huntsman here was up for like four days straight ‘till now!”

“Did… Did you slip him your sleepy tea?”

“Of course not! That would be super unethical! Also I'm pretty sure he’s still semi conscious and passively listening without any critical thought right now since he only just dozed off and would probably wake up angry if he overheard anything like that!”

“....right… so anyway-”

The brat knew.

Dammit he knew the brat knew. She definitely fucking knew.

He should have known better than to try anything with that Professional Snoop underfoot. But He’d had plans with Blue before having to get stuck with the brat tonight because the Queen needed Syntax’s expertise and the Sister was on shift at work and Goliath already had plans doing who knows what, and he was stuck with Minyi since he ‘didn’t have any plans’

He’d dragged his feet on the idea of cancelling with Blue, but he’d fucking done it so nobody could say he didn’t contribute to the upkeep of their clan’s youngest. It was just his luck that Sandy had been fine with coming over instead, and the brat had overheard some of the conversation and got excited about ‘Mr Sandy’ coming over to visit. The brat had insisted on stringing some of her fake flowers into his hair before he arrived, after dubbing him ‘suitably pretty’ (her words) she’d done up her own hair as similarly as she could because he certainly wasn’t helping her with her weird pre-’company is coming’ rituals.

And… Blue was a hit with the brat. He had an infinite amount of patience for the inane childish babbling, stooped low so she could string the remaining fake flowers in her possession (why did she have so many fake flowers?) into his beard, and offered to fix dinner for the lot of them (which was for the best since the brat was such a picky eater she could barely stomach some of his specialties)

And… he was not jealous of a six year old for how she was able to crawl into Blue’s lap while the lot of them watched some inane mystery show for the character drama alone since the brat called and explained the mystery within the first three minutes.

Blue was a bit awkward on the sofa, it made sense, Goliath would normally sit on the floor for how the height and width of the couch was not designed with bigger demons in mind, and Blue was considerably bigger than Goliath. So while the brat was cozy as could be in the place of honor, Huntsman was stuck perched on the arm of the couch as to not be crushed into it trying to squeeze in beside Blue.

Not that that would be a wholly unpleasant experience, but the presence of the brat made it go from tempting to awkward. Nonetheless, part of Sandy trying to get comfortable had included one of his arms resting on the back of the couch, and while it seemed the brat wasn’t paying attention, it slid down to wrap around his shoulders.

When the time came Minyi didn’t need to be told it was bed time for her, she loudly announced it herself, changed into her pajamas, and after saying goodnight to the both of them went on with a

“I am going to sleep now! And I will not be out of my room until morning so if anything were to be happening I certainly won’t know it, because I will be asleep.”

She smiled widely at Huntsman and closed her door.

Nosey little brat.

Tang huffed a quiet laugh as Sandy gingerly began to lift Huntsman into the air, his broken leg not quite able to be splinted just yet, let alone looked at properly. It seemed the lot of them had suffered some pretty nasty injuries from this last threat (and no doubt it would have been worse if their team and the Spider Clan hadn’t joined forces) including Tang himself despite being on the sidelines for most of it, he was pretty sure his shoulder was dislocated, and the cut on his forehead was still sluggishly bleeding all over the right side of his face, but compared to some of the others he was basically fine.

So once He was able to pop his arm back into place (Ouch) he took to handling cleanup with the only other ‘perfectly normal person’ here, a woman maybe a few years his junior, he’d seen her every so often with the Spider Clan (or rather, with Syntax) but he didn’t know her name.

“Do you think they actually think they’re being subtle?” Her words caught his attention and he turned to glance at the woman. She was in the middle of splinting Xiaojiao’s broken wrist and at Tang’s questioning glance, she nodded at Sandy and Huntsman. Oh!

“I’m sure Sandy thinks he’s the pinnacle of subtlety” Tang responded. He was pretty sure the ‘thing’ that had developed between their friend and the most brutal of the Spider Clan was the worst kept secret on the team since Red Son had started hanging out with Xiaotian and Xiaojiao on the weekends.

“They are so cute when you just walk in on them.” Xiaojiao said around a snicker. “Like how they jump apart like when you flip a magnet over to the matching side.”

“Does your team have a betting pool? My brother organized one for the clan, and if they do anything damning within the next month i win the pot.”

“No! Ohh man we should get one started up! Hey Pigsy! You wanna make a betting Pool for Sandy and Huntsman’s secret romance?”

“Why the hell would i want to do that?”

“Finally have dirt on Sandy after decades of him never being embarrassed about anything ever?” Tang offered with a shrug.

Pigsy thought for a moment and shrugged back before going back to fussing over Xiaotian. “Sure. Who’s bettin’ what?”

send me stuff!

#Silktea #Silkteashipping #Affection meme #vega writes stories too #letters to vega #Spider Queen wins the Spider Clan pot though she denies ever betting anything #but Minyi put in three sticker packs and a yoyo for her bet and she could have SWORN she saw them in the lair by Spider Queen's stuff

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yandere-sins · 3 years

Text

Tough Love

[My Commission Info] | [My Ao3] | [Ko-Fi]

Another lovely anonymous commission, acting as a prequel to this story! Thank you for commissioning me again ♥

Characters: Yandere!Dragon!Shinguji Korekiyo x Boyfriend!Gokuhara Gonta x Reader Words: 3282 Warnings: Yandere, Kidnapping, Threatening, Body distortion

Gently and mindfully closing the door behind him, Korekiyo took a deep breath. Having brought both of his new humans into their respective rooms, it was now time to wait and see what would happen. He didn’t think of himself as too harsh when he grabbed them off the ground, carrying them off to his castle. But even so, the shock and stress might have caused them to blackout. However, even if there were minor injuries, Korekiyo was confident he could treat them by now. Kiyo’s steps echoed through the silent corridors of the castle, his right hand brushing over the doors lined up on the wall. Everything was prepared and ready for them; there was nothing they’d lack while staying in this castle.

It had taken years for him to become so comfortable with what he was doing, his first few tries having ended in disaster. Never again did he want to repeat what happened, even if that meant he had to be more careful, more prepared, and more distant from his subjects. Part of him wished to be closer to them more than ever. Still, year-long experience had shown that humans and dragons could never coexist peacefully. He would never be able to go into a city without fearing getting speared upon sight, even in his humanoid form. To some degree, he could understand their fear. All of their experiences with dragons had been negative. But at the same time, he had never wanted anything more than to learn from the humans and understand them like no one of his kind had before. Compared to him, humans were so fragile and easily withered, like flowers in the winter. And Kiyo was the frost, yearning for sunny days.

Perhaps this time, it would be different, seeing that there were two of them. His previous studies had shown that connections between humans were vital for their well-being. At the same time, his presence as a dragon didn’t seem to have the same influence on them. They wouldn’t accept his companionship or love, no matter how well or bad he treated them. But now that he had the chance to observe what it was like, perhaps he’d be able to use it in the future as well. It would be interesting to see and compare those two to the knowledge he had acquired so far about singular humans, even if it would take time and patience - two things he had plenty of. Nonetheless, he knew he couldn’t be too lenient with them. Too many had opposed him before; he couldn’t risk losing these two because he was growing soft. Tough love, that’s what the humans called it, right?

It would be exactly what he’d use on them.

Your head was still throbbing when you opened your eyes. It didn’t come as a surprise, but it was awful nonetheless. No one liked waking up feeling like shit. Warm sunlight shone upon you as you turned over in your soft bed, clutching your sides when you felt the sharp pain left on you after being grabbed by a dragon. Had you been rescued? Were you even alive? The images were still vivid in your mind; the chaos, the screams, and Gonta’s hand holding yours as you two were running away.

Gonta!

Sitting up straight, you instantly regretted being hasty. Of course, your body couldn’t keep up with the sudden movements after all that happened, but your mind grew frantic as you thought about your boyfriend. Straining your eyes, you made out the layout of the unfamiliar room you were in, furrowing your brows as the questions in your head multiplied. It was a nice room, probably the nicest one you had ever seen in your life. Finely crafted amenities, vivid colors, and pristine conditions - just like what you’d imagine a fairytale would look like. Where were you? What happened after you blacked out? Was Gonta taken too? Had someone rescued you and put you in this room so you could recover? Looking down at you, you still had your usual clothes on you, even if they were sullied with dirt. Why would someone put you in such a fancy bed this way?

It almost made you feel bad to sit in the clean white sheets with your dirty clothes, but it wasn’t the time to worry about how hard it would be to wash the stains out of the sheets. You lifted your legs off the mattress, trying to stand up, feeling the backlash of being knocked out. Even though it felt weird and a bit painful, you could determine with relief that nothing was broken. Taking weak steps, you made your way towards the exit of your room to call out to someone, ask what was going on. And maybe, find the one person you wanted to be held by most.

The door swung open quickly as you pushed the handle, no pulling or tearing like you were used to from the sometimes stuck doors all around your village. Everything seemed so immaculate. It was almost intimidating. Stepping out, you found yourself in a long hallway filled with doors. Paintings hung from the walls of places you had never seen. Even if you guessed before that this was no small house, you were still amazed by how endless it seemed to be. However, even if there were traces of living - books and plants decorating the hall - you couldn’t see anyone. “H-Hello?” you asked, your voice hoarse from screaming so much when the dragon captured you.

No response.

Overcome with a weird feeling when no one answered you, you tried again without success. A mansion as big as this should have servants running around, right? Meeting anyone would calm the anxious rumbling in your stomach, but this way, you didn’t know where to go or what to do first. Suddenly, you heard the sound of heavy footsteps approach you from the front, and you noticed the intricately decorated door. Before you could step up to it, it swung open, revealing a very familiar face. The shudder of your name fell of Gonta’s lips before he hugged you tightly, and you sunk into his arms while a heavy stone fell off your shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re alright,” he sighed, relieved, sniffling a little.

It took a while before you two could let go of each other, but you were so thankful for feeling his warmth, knowing he really was there with you. No matter how strange and scary the situation had seemed at first, knowing you weren’t alone made everything better. “Do you… still remember anything that happened after… you know?” you asked as you separated from him, and Gonta’s expression turned apologetic as he shook his head. “It’s okay,” you whispered, reaching up to caress his cheek. Gonta gave a heavy sigh as he leaned into your affection, and you could feel how relieved he was too. “I thought… I really thought…” he mumbled, his face twitching in pain.

“Shh, it’s okay.” You didn’t want him to think about these things. About the ‘what if’s and the ‘could have been’. Hell, you didn’t even want to think about these things yourself, and you knew that they’d only cause you both suffering. All that mattered was that you were reunited and a little less lonely in your confusion.

It came as a surprise when a sudden clap interrupted your moment of togetherness, and you looked to where it was coming from alerted. It was strange, and you hadn’t noticed anyone before, but a little down the hallway, the figure of a man was sitting on a delicate white bench, a closed book in hand. He slowly looked up, your eyes crossing. Never before had you seen such a pristine-looking human, very different energy coming from him. Having spent all your life in your village, you found it hard to discern if this was simply the aura of a noble or something else entirely.

“I am glad to see you woke up,” he spoke as he stood up from the little bench located between two doors. “I was worried about you two.”

“Where- Where are we?” was the first question on your mind, your hand gripping a bit tighter into Gonta’s shirt as the man approached.

“My castle. Your home,” was the curt answer you received, however, the man didn’t stop walking, eventually passing the both of you who stepped out of the way respectfully. “What do you mean?” you replied, but the man kept walking down the long corridor as if he had heard nothing.

“You may explore as much as you want. I hope it will be to your liking,” the man stated, finally coming to a halt in front of one of the many doors, opening it before giving a short glance back towards you and Gonta and ultimately disappearing inside what laid behind. You heard the click of a lock as the door closed and looked at Gonta helplessly. “What did he mean?”

However, Gonta didn’t have an answer for that either. “I’m not sure, but Gonta doesn’t like it…”

You had to agree with your boyfriend, who seemed to grow more anxious by the second. Taking his hand in yours, you squeezed it reassuringly before suggesting, “Let’s look around, maybe we’ll find a way out,” and he nodded, giving you a squeeze back.

Many doors wouldn’t budge as you tried to open them, but the few rooms you were able to enter didn’t help you two much on your pursuit for a way out. One led to a long banquet hall, only containing a seemingly endless table surrounded by more chairs than you could count. Another one hosted more books than anyone would ever be able to read in a lifetime. As wondrous as it was, all of these rooms didn’t help soothe your own anxiety, much less Gonta’s. It became more evident with every passing chance that something was wrong, even if neither of you wanted to admit it. You just held hands tighter, hoping that the next door would be the key to go outside.

“Look!” Gonta called out as you searched through the office you two had stumbled upon. Perhaps it was just your own desperation, but you wanted there to be something in here to help, even if it was just a key for one of the locked doors or a map of the layout of the ‘castle’ you were in. But even after skipping through the books, some too hard to read and in questionable languages, there were no clues left behind that would point to your whereabouts. As if this place was isolated from everything. Stepping up to Gonta, he pushed away the curtain for you, big windows being revealed behind them.

“Oh…” you gasped as you looked outside, seeing how high up you two were. It might not have been an exaggeration after all when the man told you it was his castle, considering there was a tall defense wall surrounding the building and endless fields of gold-shimmering wheat surrounding it. Inside the walls, you could only see the flourishing gardens lying beneath, decorated by colorful flowers and a small river bed winding through it. Just like everything inside the castle, it was astonishingly beautiful with flowers you had never seen before, but it didn’t deter you two from the main point of interest.

“That’s… a big wall,” Gonta mumbled thoughtfully, and you agreed with a shake of your head. Not only was it tall, it also consisted of firm, solid blocks of stone, without even a hint of aging on them. Of course, you couldn’t tell how good the condition of the outside of the wall was, but just from looking at the inside, you figured it would be hard to find a nick in it. “Do you see an exit somewhere?” you asked, stretching your neck to look as far as possible in hopes of seeing a tower or the huge gats you imagined castle walls to have.

“There is none,” a voice rang out from behind, and you turned around, startled to see the same mysterious man from before approach. Neither of you had heard the door open, and yet here he was as if he appeared from nothing. “When my humans kept trying to get out of the castle, I put a boulder in front of the exit. Now, only I can come and leave as I please.”

“Who are you?” you yelled at him, standing protectively in front of Gonta, who flinched when you raised your voice. However, the man’s words rang alarm bells in your head, and the bad feeling you had before intensified. Something about him wasn’t right. Even if it was just a slight difference, he didn’t appear as human as you would have liked him to be. Especially now that you got a better look at him, your gaze clearer than when you had just woken up, he simply felt off to you.

“I am…” His voice trailed off as he hesitated to finish the sentence, bringing a finger to his lips in contemplation before shaking his head almost as if he was disappointed. “Have you not thought about it yet? Very well, I shall tell you then. I am who brought you here. You may call me Korekiyo.”

“Brought us… here?” you muttered, the sudden grip on your shoulder startling you, and you looked back at Gonta, who was shaking as if he had seen a ghost. Oh, you realized, your eyes widening in shock and surprise as you gasped, “The dragon!” before quickly covering your mouth with your hand.

“What-” you croaked, as you were left speechless momentarily. You felt your pulse quickening, but having Gonta behind you gave you back some strength and composure to not panic. In the very worst case, you two would make a run for it. Even Gonta knew how to act quickly, and his strength would not be useless when trying to get out. The only important thing was that you two stuck together no matter what. You could make it if you were together.

“What do you want from us?!” you yelled accusatory, brushing your hand over Gonta’s on your shoulder in comfort for both of you. “Why did you bring us here?! I- I demand to be let go, right now!”

“Why would I?” was the man’s - dragon’s? - simply answer, and he stepped forward, effectively cornering you two between the window and the office table. “You’re here to keep me company, and I can’t wait-” Holding out his hand, you saw it coming too close to comfort to your face, making you flinch away from it and bringing you and Gonta into a backwards stumble. “-to see how you’ll do,” he finished his speech, leaving you none the wiser. His hand remained in the air for a moment longer before the dragon curled it into a fist, taking another step forward.

“We’ll get out!” you announced. You had no plan and no idea how you’d manage such a deed, but neither would you accept whatever your captor planned for you two so ominously.

A strange gleam appeared in the dragon’s eyes as you spoke rashly about your plans, and with another step, he was in front of you. Perhaps it was just a trick of your eyes, but you thought to see him change as you looked at him, a wave of shimmering scales erupting from his skin before disappearing again and his face deforming briefly into a much more grotesque form. It left you speechless until you felt both of Gonta’s hands clawing into your shoulders before he pulled you away while another hand wrapped around your chin.

“Don’t forget at whose mercy you are.”

He was so close now that you could feel his hot breath against your skin, your body instinctively starting to shiver. Even if you pretended to be strong and courageous, your subconscious knew better as to not fear the predator in front of you. Even if his fingers were soft, claws were protruding from his nails, and his grip was merciless. It resembled when he grabbed you and dragged you off as a full-fledged dragon before you lost consciousness, a memory you’d rather not remember.

Gonta was the one to break you two apart, his arm wrapping around you as he pulled you back and close against him in an effort to protect you. You couldn’t see his face, but with how desperately he was holding on to you, you realized that he was beyond worried after witnessing this exchange. There was only a small gap between you and the dragon now, but his touch did not linger as he looked up at Gonta, who quickly began to stammer an apology. “We- We won’t! So please…”

It was unclear if this satisfied the dragon, but he let off, crossing his arms behind his back again. “As long as you know how you should behave, it’s fine.”

Way too quickly, the dragon composed himself, not even heaving a heavy sigh despite the displeasure of being confronted by you. The deformities you thought to witness stopped, as well as the shimmering gleam of scales. He was almost back to looking like a ‘normal’ human, despite being the farthest lifeform from it. “You may explore the open rooms and sleep in the ones you woke up. Or share them, I don’t mind. I’m sure you’ll find the amenities quite comfortable and interesting, but do let me know if you need anything.”

Turning on his heel, he seemed unbothered to turn his back to you, even though you were seething with the desire to ram something into his vulnerable body at that moment. Part of you was scared, but the other was angry and confused, wondering what would happen and why you were here in the first place. If only… you hadn’t survived. Maybe it would have been better that way.

But you couldn’t think like this. Not when there was another person who needed you.

Supported by Gonta’s arms, you tried to stand on your wobbly feet alone when the dragon suddenly turned around to you again to add something to his words, making you flinch as his piercing gaze fell on you especially again. “Make sure you come when I call,” he spoke demandingly, with no room to argue. This was an absolute order, one you wished you could ignore, but it only amplified the fear inside you.

When the door finally closed behind Korekiyo, you collapsed, unable to keep your composure as tears of shock filled your eyes. Gonta sunk to the ground with you. The only comfort he could offer was holding you tightly in his embrace, his head dropping on top of yours. At least for a little bit, you could hide inside his arms, but a million questions kept coming while you tried to calm down. You wished you could just go to bed and sleep, the nightmare finally being over when you opened your eyes again. But Gonta’s warmth reminded you this was no dream, only making you more agitated.

“What do we do now,” Gonta muttered into your hair, and you were so desperate to give him a positive answer, for a moment, you managed to lie to yourself.

“We’ll find a way. Maybe… maybe he’ll just let us go after a bit.”

It was the best you could do, but a lie nonetheless. You didn’t know what would happen, but the only thing you have in this situation was hope.

Hope that it wouldn’t be as bad as the scenarios playing in your head.

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yolkyeomie · 3 years

Text

Crescendo | Kang Yeosang

summary — The beating of a heart is like a crescendo, screaming louder and louder in one's chest until it's reached maximum capacity, and you’re about ready to burst.

word count — 8.6k words

pairing — yeosang x female!reader

genre —violinist + college au, band au there if you look around a little bit, fluff with like a hint of angst in the later parts

disclaimer — SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT,,, this is more of prologue than anything tbh. also I have almost zero knowledge on college and violins so if this is horrible I’m so sorry. also typos. lots of typos.

part I | part II | part III

There was just something about summer that you liked so much. You just couldn't exactly put your finger on what.

Maybe you liked the sunny days that it would bring? The giant ball of light in the sky beaming down at full power onto every human in sight. It would illuminate the world with a golden glow, bringing out the more natural and earthy colors hidden from the other seasons. The heat would call for unplanned trips to the cool waters and hot sand of the beaches or a quickly made dash to the nearest frozen ice cream shop. Perhaps it was because there was no more school, no more time needed to spend on slaving away for hours at a desk just to not retain any knowledge given.

Or maybe you liked it because it was the time you’d see children the happiest. Every time you biked along the sidewalk to and from your home you’d come across a playground almost always filled to the brim with the joyous sounds of laughter. Children scattered around the playgrounds like little ants to a picnic, grabbing whatever they found the most intriguing for the day. Some would be swinging, some would be sliding, some would even be chasing each other around without any of the equipment catching their attention at all.

However, there was a possibility that you enjoyed the summertime because of the theater your town held. It wasn't very big compared to the ones that could be found in the big cities of your country, but it was nice nonetheless.

There were white walls lined with a fake golden trim along the floors, bright lights nearly blinding one as they walked inside of the theater for the first time. There was a slightly smaller stage than normal, not too tiny but definitely smaller than you’d seen in the more famous theaters. The seats weren't in their traditional curved angles either. They were in neat straight rows leading all the way to the back of the theater where the volunteer tech crew would operate behind the scenes.

Every year your high school would hold recitals for their students in that theater. They would use these performances as a way to showcase their students' growing talents in the art of music or to spotlight their shyer students who never had gotten a chance to show everyone what they were made of. You weren’t in any sort of music group nor did you know how to play any instruments, so you never participated. But you did show up to every recital you could.

When you were in tour first year the only reason you had attended the performance was because your English teacher had promised to raise their overall grade for the year if they did. You were a decent student, overall you had average grades but wasn't the most outstanding person in your class. A few extra points to curve your grades were always appreciated so you had planned on attending the performance.

You had tried to grab a couple of friends to go with you, but all of them coward out when they got the chance. Some would say they were too busy, some would outright tell you they didn't want to sit through a performance they had no interest in. So you ended up simply going with your family, more begrudged than you originally were for the recital.

You had sat through choir members and members of the school's small orchestra and band repeating nearly the same song over and over again. Each song had a different tune, maybe a different style depending on how much creative liberty the singer or player gave themselves. One song was sung a bit louder than the others, another song was played by a small thrown together orchestra than simply a soloist, but they were all the same.

It was boring, and you were growing tired of listening to the same thing constantly. The only thing willing you to stay in your seat the entire time with the arm crushing strength of your mother and your need to get extra points on your grades for the year.

Near the end of the recital was when you had gotten hooked. Your family had finally decided they were going to pack it up for the night, her father had to work early in the morning and you were going to be thrown over towards your grandparents for summer. Just before you could have risen out of your chair to leave behind your parents, you heard it. A different melody than the ones that have been rocking your brain that night.

There was a boy walking on the stage, probably no taller than you was at the time. He was tiny for a first year boy, probably one of the shortest in his class as well. His hair was like a fluffy brown bunny's tail, bouncing and tousling itself around with every step he took. There was a string instrument in his hands, from what you could see was a red-tinged wood violin. You couldn't quite see the expression on his face either though, due to the distance you were from the theater stage.

You hadn't even realized you were holding your breath until he plucked one of the strings, letting the note resonate through the theater and bounce off the walls and into their ears. He had played a note, on a different key from the other performers. He was playing a song that his fellow violinists hadn't picked. He was different.

The sound was like a siren's song that grabbed the audience's attention and placed it to the stage. His melody started out soft and somber, almost as if the violin itself was conveying its unspoken emotions. The violinist was trying to use those emotions his instrument lent him to serenade the tears in the audience's eyes to fall and hit the ground simultaneously, creating their own beat to his song.

After a moment of enticing the audience to his performance, he sped up his pace. His quiet song suddenly grew in size until it overpowered every other sound in the room. He strummed each string with a quickness you didn't even believe was possible, his bow striking each note like it was powerful enough to create an earthquake. In a sense, it was like he and the violin had become one being, his string instrument becoming an extension of his arm as he played.

The audience whispered in wonder and amazement of the boy's talents, unable to take their eyes away from his figure. It was an enchanting sound so you couldn't blame them. The violinist had brought you into a world completely different from reality, where every object and plant in sight was made out of his musical chords.

How does a boy, barely over the age of fifteen, have this much power in his hands? You would be cursing yourself if you didn't grant him the title of prodigy right then and there.

Unfortunately for you, you couldn't listen to the rest of his alluring song. Your family had dragged you out of the theater to finally retreat to their humble abode for the night. After that night you had declared to yourself that you’d find the violinist who played that song, whether you had to search all summer for him or dig around your school for him. You’d attend every recital and every performance your school's small orchestra had just to get him to play for you again.

However, you lucked out each time you tried. Your school's orchestra didn't allow students outside of their instrumentalists into the classrooms. The violinist boy was too short for you to find in a crowd at their performances either. You even tried to find someone who might be close to him, but no one seemed to step up to the plate. This went on for the rest of your high school years. The only time you could see him where those days after the school year had ended, listening to him play those high energy tunes and somber melodies for his recital before he disappeared from existence once more.

That was, until now.

Plus you made a little bit of money on the side as well, and who didn't like money? Sure most of it was going to your tuition for college but there were times where you liked to splurged on your own interests every once and awhile.

"You seem tired," a feminine voice commented, making you turn around to face her. It was a girl, around your age, walking towards you, her long sleeves rolled up against her arms to mirror the way her shorts looked. She sat down on the pavement next to you, handing you a water bottle ice cold to the touch. "I would be too if I rode around in this crazy heat. I'm surprised you haven't melted at the mere light of the sun yet."

"I almost did," you responded, taking the water from her hands gratefully. "Today was unreasonably hot... I felt like I was sitting right in the middle of hell. And the fact that my bike is made out of metal, too? It's a miracle I didn't get third degree burns or something."

The girl went quiet for a moment, her brow furrowing in thought before speaking again. "You know I can always do it for you? The delivering stuff. It's my family's business anyway, I should be helping them out, not relying on you to do all of the hard work for me."

"Are you serious?" you questioned, suppressing the unusually strong urge to laugh. "You can't even ride a bike or skate. Nor do you have a car either, it'll take you hours to get from one house to the next. And I like the money I earn from doing this for you, I can't get a job anywhere else so this is just perfect for me."

"But still!" She complained, a pouting donning her lips as you screwed open the bottle cap. "I feel bad seeing you bike along in this hot ass weather for my family! I gotta do something to give you... at least a little relief."

You laughed at her desperation, placing the water by your side to face her fully. "The relief you can give me is not playing your cello so loud in the morning. You play wonderfully, trust me, but it's so loud and I'm so tired." you clarified, reminiscing on every time she'd walk up to her house with the sound of a cello's notes wavering through the air.

The girl wasn't in their school's orchestra, she had picked up on the instrument as a hobby. She didn't have a desire to play it in a school setting or professionally no matter how much everyone would suggest otherwise. Yet she suddenly began to really start practicing more often when her next door neighbor had moved in two years ago. You remembered exactly how frustrated the girl was when she discovered that he played guitar at maximum volume in the middle of the night without any regard for anyone else.

To counteract his annoying behavior, she'd open up all the windows in her house and began to play her cello as loud as she physically could in the morning times. It became a war of the instrumentalists after that and neither of them seemed like they were going to stop any time soon.

"Oh you know I can't do that," She responded, glaring at the house to their left where the guitarist resided. "He'll take it as me surrendering to him. I don't even want to think about what he'll do in the middle of the night once I stop. Probably bass boost his guitar so that it's even louder than normal! Oh god, I won't ever get any sleep if he does that."

You found it funny really. The two had never even met each other face to face. "Right... and we don't want that happening do we?" The girl shook her head vigorously in response to your words, taking your sarcasm very seriously. "I still think you can at least tone it down a little bit... this is our last year, in a few months we'll be dragged off into a bigger city to attend colleges and universities for another four or more years. Are you really going to be playing your cello first thing in the morning in your dormitory?"

"Well..." the girl pauses, taking your words into consideration. "No... I won't really need to since I'm not bringing it with me."

"Exactly!" You exclaimed, clapping your hands together and giving the girl a mocking smile. "Now I think you should at least go over to that boy's house and settle this raging war before you move onto better things. Make amends with him, he might even become a new friend of yours for the future. If not, you're not gonna see him again. There's a very high possibility that he's not going to the same college as you, or that he might not be going to college at all!"

She rolled her eyes at your suggestion, forcing herself off of the ground reluctantly. "Fine. I'll go make amends with him or whatever. But I'll only do it if you give up on the violinist boy from the recitals."

You stiffened at the mention of your high school goal, your very unsuccessful goal of finding him and making him play a song for you. "It's like you said, this is our last year here as teenagers. You've been trying to find him longer than I've been waging this musical war on my neighbor. It's about time to lay to rest, you. Seriously, it's more painful to watch than those terribly edited movies from my parents' watch for the "nostalgia"."

"Ouch there was no need to stoop that low," you mumbled, making the girl laugh in turn. "But I guess you're right. I've failed at finding him for this long, I might as well just give up now."

The girl nodded before patting your shoulders in reassurance. "If you really want to hear someone play music so bad for you, you can always ask me. I know a cello sounds nothing like a tiny violin but I can always try?"

"Actually that doesn't sound like a bad idea," you mumbled after a moment of thinking.

"Perfect!" The girl hummed, nearly jumping with excitement to show off her talents and pleasing your several years long urge to have someone play for you. "Usually I only play for my family but I'm very willing to show off what I've been working on. There's this one song I've using to annoy the guitarist boy in the morning and—"

"Go," you reminded her, your smile growing wider at her friend geeking out about her work. "Go get your cello and actually play it for me."

She nodded at your words, skipping on her feet as if she was as light as a feather towards her house. You knew it would be a bit of a struggle in moving her instrument from her room to the outdoors but if the girl was willingly and happily doing it, she had no reason to stop her.

It was a little funny though, how much you were surrounded by people who were gifted and talented in the form of music. Your school's orchestra knew you because of how you’d always try and snatch a peek into their classroom and attended their performances. Your closest friend was a cellist, but only played for hobby and the boy next door was a guitarist. All these connections started happening because a boy you had been chasing after for four years was a violinist.

You'd think you’d pick up some sort of instrument to attract them to you, and trust and believe you tried. You attempted to start playing many instruments after that summer night in your first year. Guitar, flute, piano, trumpet, you even tried to learn the violin yourself. You just weren't musical gifted, you didn't have the patience nor the ears to learn any sort of instrument that passed your way. The best you could do was play a sad tune on the kazoo or laugh into a harmonica.

It's even funnier when other’s learn that your mother used to sing and play the piano while your father played the clarinet when they were in high school. Go ahead and laugh, you knew you were a musical disappointment. Music was practically flowing strong in your blood and you sucked at it. Don't even get started on dancing either, it was a frightening sight to see. Those who could live to tell the tale never told the tale to anyone.

A melody began to float through the air once your friend disappeared into her house, catching you off guard. It wasn't the sound of an electric guitar, shocking the hair and making your skin prickle with its overbearing and booming sound. It was soft and sweet, vibrating through the air as if it was playing with the wind that blew by every few minutes. You could immediately identify the instrument as a violin, it's slightly strained notes from the bow connecting with the strings were all too familiar to you.

You turned towards the guitarist's house where the song was the loudest. To your knowledge, the boy didn't play any other instrument than the guitar. Yet the violin's sweet yet sorrowful song was coming from his house. Without even thinking you rose off the ground, following the song's notes like it was your guide. You had heard the door of your friend's house open again, signaling that the girl had successfully brought her cello from her room to the front of her house. Unfortunately for her, you were walking a little faster than she could drag her cello case.

"Y/N?" The girl called, trying to catch your attention. "Y/N, where are you going?"

You stood in front of the guitarist boy's house, right before where the balcony was hanging. The door to the balcony was ajar, letting the cool afternoon air into the room and releasing the melody of the violin out. "Is that the guitarist boy's room?" you called out to her friend, not taking your eyes off of the balcony. Just as you spoke the violin came to a screeching stop as if the mere sound of your voice was disrupting the flow of its song.

"No," the girl responded after abandoning her cello and running to your side. She pointed to the other side of the house where the window's blinds were closed yet light still shined through them. "His room is right across from mine, I should know I get the brunt of the blow every time he strums his stupid guitar."

Your voices dropped into pure silence when you saw something moving in their direction from the balcony. The door to the outside area slowly screeched open as the figure on the other side pulled on its door handle, stepping onto the wood floor of the balcony and letting the floorboards creak under their weight. Your eyes widened at the sight of a red-tinged violin, it's body scratched from its long term usage and its color dull from the lighting the setting sun had given them.

A boy stepped into view after the violin, the brown hair bouncing on his head like a bunny's tail. His resting face looked like you were staring at a statue, unable to catch any hint of movement in most of his features unless he blinked his eyes every few seconds. Right beside his eyes was some sort of mark, more of a rosy color than the rest of rather pale skin. He must not leave his house that much. After a few moments of silence, he leaned over the balcony's hand railing and spoke, "What do you want?"

The girl beside you glanced between the boy and you frantically, trying to piece two and two together. "you... is that the—"

"I want," you yelled up to him, interrupting your friend's question to respond to the boy above them. A smile began to play on your lips as you spoke, excitement festering up in your chest. You had found him. You had found the violinist from your first year. "I want you to play for me one of your best songs yet."

II.

There was just something about mornings you hated, no matter the day of the week. They'd always leave you more exhausted than you were the night before, whether you had gone to sleep late or not.

Maybe it's because of the dorm room you stayed in, assigned the room the moment you had gotten accepted into your university. It wasn't tiny, but it was definitely much smaller than your room at home. Your belongings barely had enough legroom with your roommate's whole entire area taking up more than half of the room. Despite being rather clean, to an extent, and cool during the day it was also incredibly hot at night.

A few months back the air conditioning unit for the floor you lived on broke down due to age. The university had reassured the students that they'd be looking into the broken unit and the technicians would be coming in and out of the building to fix it. However, they were rather slow with the process. Instead of just moving toward the third floor where the problem had started, they were moving from room to room on each floor the building had.

Apparently, they were just going to fix the problem in one go, however one go suddenly turned into a few days. A few days turned into a few weeks. And a few weeks turned into two months.

Thankfully they were on the edge of the summer season, the crisp breeze of the autumn air in October beginning to blow throughout the city. However that breeze simply abandoned them every time the night fell, the hallways and the common room being filled to the brim with students trying to escape the blazing heat. One would think it would be much cooler around the nighttime, so did they.

You weren't the heaviest of sleepers either, which meant you'd wake up at even the slightest vibration of a phone. One could only imagine your reaction when your alarm clock suddenly blared its ear piercing wake up call. The irritating buzzing of the built on alarm would always shock you out of bed like a cat. Yet even when you knew you were wide awake, you constantly struggled to force yourself up and out of your room. If time would allow it, you would lay in your very warm and comfortable spot in the bed for at least an hour or more.

What's even worse for you was that your dormitory was co-ed, which meant that next door to you was a group of boys who were sharing a room for the school year. They were loud, constantly moving around in the middle of the night, and screaming at random times of the day which usually ended up being the time that you used to study. There were always noise complaints about those students. No one on their floor, or the floor above and below, like them that much. Yet they never seemed to tone down the problem, they made them worse with every noise complaint that was filled to their resident assistance.

Every time they'd get a noise complaint, they'd go and find someone else who was just a little too loud one day and pin the blame on them. It was a way to show that everyone in the building made a commotion and that they shouldn't be the only ones punished for it. You didn't really care about what they were doing until you had suddenly become a target one day.

"I'm sorry, what?" you questioned them, leaning up against the door frame with your arms crossed. In front of you stood the two boys that lived in the dorm next to you, nearly towering over you like the buildings in the city thanks to the monstrous amount of height. They appeared to be up to no good when they had randomly shown up, and you were absolutely right.

"Are you the one who has been playing that music for the past three days? What was it... classical music?" He asked, tugging at his hair as he spoke. He glanced towards his roommate for confirmation, who nodded his head vigorously in response to his question. "Are you a music major or something? Maybe in the orchestra? If not it's been blasting really loudly lately and my roommate here has a majority of his classes at eight am. Right, Jaehyun?"

The boy didn't seem like he was on board with being used as an excuse at first, raising his eyebrow and staring at his roommate in confusion before turning to you. "Right, I have to get up so early for all my classes. I'd really appreciate it if you keep the violins and cymbals and triangles to like a minimum so that it doesn't bother me anymore."

"If not we'll take it to the RA," His roommate quickly added to put their threat in full effect. "And we'll file a noise complaint for disturbing us."

You scoffed at the thought, wanting to slam the door closed and forget about their petty revenge. "Aren't you the same duo that got a noise complaint filed to them last week because of an extremely loud yet unidentifiable thud..." you began before turning on your heels and correcting yourself. "Oh, my apologies. I meant boom, extremely loud yet unidentifiable boom that came from the laundry room. Only for one of the students on the lower floors to go down there and find that one of the washers and dryers had literally malfunctioned and exploded?"

"Listen," One of the boys tried to interject, his ears burning bright red as you kept talking. "That's not... listen, we—"

"Didn't they go on the security cameras to find out who had done the damage? Because a washer and dryer going suddenly haywire on its own is extremely worrisome and dangerous for the students who may have been around during that time. And weren't you two—"

"Classical music is such an amazing genre of music!" The roommate interrupted, yelling over your voice in a panic. There was a pained smile on his face as he hooked an arm around the other boy, punching his arm to follow along as he spoke. "I mean, it has such a clean and light texture to it, simplistic but a great melody nonetheless! God, it gives me nostalgia for a time I wasn't even alive in! Isn't that right, Jaehyun?"

"Oh," the boy spoke, his eyes darting in between his roommate and you. Slowly a smile began to grow on his face to mask his growing embarrassment as he gestured towards the other boy. "Of... of course! Johnny has such nice music taste! So you know when he says a genre is really good it really means something. Seriously love classical music, man. Lulls me right to sleep!"

Needless to say, they choose to not bother you as much as they used to. The strange and loud noises that would echo through the dormitory walls had gotten significantly lower since that day. They didn't stop completely yet but it was enough for you to keep your peace of mind before waking up every day.

Your mornings had gotten relatively calmer after that incident as well. Both of those boys were usually out of the dormitory by the time you were awake to attend classes or work, so you didn't run into them much during the week. You'd have calm enough mornings to where you didn't feel the need to nearly pass out on a car or bus ride to your campus and almost miss your stop. It felt like a dream come true when you would hop out of whatever vehicle you were in and would be right on time before your classes even started.

"Y/N!" A feminine voice screamed, catching you off guard when an arm suddenly slung around your neck. You clutched onto the bag hanging off your shoulder as you nearly tumbled to the ground at the sudden addition of weight, bringing the other girl down with you as you struggled to comprehend what was going on. They got a few stares from the other students who were arriving and leaving the campus but no one said a word to them. Thankfully everyone practiced the art of minding their business. "You'll never guess what I got!"

"Do I want to guess?" You questioned, shoving the girl's arm off of you so you could regain your balance. Once you were stable enough to stand up, you turned around to see who had stumbled into your path. The girl's eyes were wide with innocence and excitement as she stood in front of you, fidgeting in place as she tried to contain herself. Most of the energy she'd originally be exerting into jumping up and down was focused into the beaming and bright smile she couldn't wipe off of her face even if she tried. "Do I have to guess?"

"Yes, you have to," She demanded, holding her hands behind her back to hide whatever got her spirits high. The girl must have ordered some sort of object online again and simply couldn't wait till after your classes to show you. "It's so worth it, I promise! Just... just guess!"

A sigh escaped your mouth as you straighten your posture, reading deep into the girl's expression to try and figure out what it was. "I'm going to guess—"

"Two front row seats to our school's very own band performance!" The girl nearly squealed, shoving two flimsy pieces of paper in your face. You took a few steps back in order to align your sight with the tickets, taking them out of the girl's hands to inspect. Both tickets were for general admission, their names printed on it with the date they were expected to attend the performance. "Aren't you excited? I literally fought tooth and claw to get these before they sold out, and you know these sell out fast!"

"Band? Like the guys who play trumpets and bass drums during school games?" You questioned, glancing up from the tickets to face your friend. The tickets didn't have exactly who was performing written down on it, simply stating that it was a live music event. "Why would you go watch them play? I thought you were more of a... pop genre person?"

The girl rolled her eyes at your response, snatching the tickets from your hands and placing them back into your pockets. "No, not the band. Who goes out of their way to specifically watch our band team play?" She hissed. "I mean like rock bands. You know, the type of people who play the drums and guitars in one big band and perform on stage with a lead singer and everything. That type of band."

"My point with you being a pop genre person still stands," you mumbled in response.

"Yes I do like pop music, I understand that," The girl clarified. "But we're going to see Aurora. Our school's very own rock band! Do you seriously not know who they are? I know you listen to classical and orchestral music and all, but I thought you were at least in the loop with Aurora!"

You scoffed as you began to walk forward, shoving your hands into your pockets and you spoke. "Just because I don't listen to the popular music right now doesn't mean I'm out of the loop! I'll have you know that I am a very big fan of idol groups. I even participated in those farewell events when groups’ oldest members start enlisting in the military."

"Idol groups have absolutely nothing to do with Aurora and you know it," your friend grumbled. "Do you seriously not know who Aurora is? At all? Have I seriously been friends with a hermit crab this whole time?"

"Fine then," you shrugged. "Go ahead, tell me about this Aurora band since you're so obsessed and knowledgeable about this group I've never heard of."

Aurora is a much bigger thing than you had imagined. From your friend's knowledge, it was a group of boys who had gathered around the beginning of the year together, all of them having several different traits and personalities that simply meshed together all too well. They had created the band, Aurora, for fun at first as they were all instrumentalists with different crafts. They had started busking in order to make money as a side job and quickly grew in popularity with the audiences they performed to.

Their university had caught wind of their musical abilities and had asked them to perform during the annual club fairs to help attract more students. After that, they seemed to have skyrocketed in popularity within the college campus. Jung Wooyoung, the group's bassist, Song Mingi, the group's lead guitarist, Choi San, the group's drummer, and Jeong Yunho, the group's lead singer, had become some of the most well-known people on campus.

Everyone seemed to know them and wanted to listen to their music, which is why your friend was so excited to be getting front row tickets to their next performance. You thought it was funny though, Wooyoung was the guitarist boy that lived next door to the girl.

"The past is in the past!" She exclaimed, throwing up her hands as the two entered the university's building. The indoors wasn't very crowded, all the students attending were spread throughout the area either taking a break before their classes began or nearly booking it straight up the stairs in fear of being late. "Sure I wanted to murder him with my cello beforehand, but it's okay because we put our differences aside like you said we should have. And it's good that we did because we ended up going to the same university."

"So..." you began, thinking for a few moments before turning towards your friend. "Does this mean he's your favorite member? I mean you've got the background and chemistry for a nice little love story don't you think?"

"Oh absolutely not," she immediately responded. "We may have made up that summer but I have not spoken to him since. Plus my favorite member is their drummer so if anything I'd like to start a love story with him. Do you think I should plan out of my outfit for the music event? What if I actually start a love story with him like in those tv shows my parents used to watch? We catch each other's eyes during the performance and before we're about to leave I get asked backstage to meet him in person!"

You visibly cringed at your friend's fantasizing, putting four feet of space in between the two of you. "Gross. Go to class before you contaminant me with your fantasies."

"Oh shut up." She rolled her eyes, stopping in her tracks so that you were forced to wait for her. "Everyone likes to fantasize about their love life every once and awhile. It's natural to want something grander than reality to happen to you."

"You are the most cliche woman I have ever met," you mumbled, glancing over your shoulder to look at the girl. "You just told me you want to make eye contact with him and immediately fall in love just like that! Have a fun time dreaming about that while you stand in a crowd full of people in your general direction."

"You're so mean to me!" She yelled, causing everyone in the vicinity to turn and stare at the sudden commotion. "You're just mad that the violinist boy from freshman year refused to play music for you even when you got on your knees! And you were looking for him your entire high school career!"

You sprinted towards the girl at full speed, clamping your hands over her mouth to silence her. She screamed into your hands as you dragged her away from the public eye and muffled her voice. "Heejin, are you out of your mind?" You growled, looking behind you to see if anyone had heard her. "I thought we had both agreed to pretend like that never happened?"

The girl pried your hands away from her mouth and smiled innocently up at you. "We did promise. I just never forgot."

You shoved the girl towards where her lecture hall was located, a frustrated frown growing on your face as a pinkish flush began to creep across your face. "Go to your stupid business math class. Go before I chase you all the way there!" you threatened through gritted teeth. Her friend laughed at the girl's response, skipping like a child to her class for the day.

You really did get rejected that day, it was too ingrained in your brain to forget. The boy had stood on the balcony staring down at the two with a bored and uninterested expression in his eyes, tilting his head like a dog's when you screamed your demands up at him. Honestly, you didn't know exactly what you were expecting. Did you really think that he was just going to pick up his violin and start playing whatever tune he knew just because you asked him to? You didn't even say please!

You had spent a good ten minutes arguing with the boy about how you had been searching for him for years just to make him play at least ten seconds of a song for you. Each time you'd explain your situation to him, he'd immediately give you a dry response of why he kept declining you. He didn't even say it politely! He stared at you straight in the eyes and told you," I don't want to play for you because you aren't worth it."

You swore if you could jump high enough, you would have bounced onto the balcony and strangled him for his rude behavior. It was truly a sight for sore eyes watching an angry and frustrated high school senior scream up at an innocent looking but totally uninterested boy on the balcony. The argument was always almost completely one-sided as well, which made it slightly embarrassing to watch from the sidelines.

You had forced your friend to promise you that she'd either forget the whole incident or pretend like it never happened. Either one was good with you since your friend was known to tell everyone's stories when you weren't paying attention. She had gone this far without saying anything so the urge to talk about it must have been truly bubbling up inside of her. It's been a few months since the incident occurred and the memory is still fresh in your minds.

"God, I'm never gonna live down that stupid incident am I?" you grumbled, practically stomping towards your end destination. "Just when I thought maybe I was finally growing past it, she has to go and bring it back up again. Doesn't she know I'm still healing from that embarrassment? It took a toll on pride and this is how she helps mend the wound? By opening up again?"

You stopped in place when a melody began to waver in the air, following along the cold breeze of the university's air condition. The music notes hopped from breeze to breeze as it traveled through your ears to the next. The sound continuously grabbed your attention as each note was struck no matter how many times you turned to keep walking. It was hitting you like a rock to the head as your brain immediately identified the music maker to a violin.

You slowly turned around to see a few students peering through a crack in some double doors, staring intently on what was on the other side. "They're at it again," one of the older students spoke, holding the door open for his friends to look through. "They're much earlier this time than usual, we'll only catch a little bit of the performance. Do you think something important is happening?"

"You think they're competing for first chair again?" One of the younger students asked, glancing up towards the boy who had spoken beforehand. He shrugged in response to their question, but he seemed to agree for the most part. "Whatever it is, I bet Hong is about to take the first chair again. He's always the first chair. No one can beat that boy when it comes to the violin."

"Kang is always right behind him though, don't forget that," another voice reminded, trying to get a better view of the inside. "Both of them are musical prodigies, and the conductor has always been fond of Kang's playing style. I think he'll get first chair this time."

You couldn't help but let curiosity take over, standing just a few feet away from the group of friends and trying to peer through the small windows of the door. It was rather dark near the entrance to the room, but farther back was lit up by lights that illuminated the wood floor stage where two performers stood. The doors seemed to have led towards an auditorium from the looks of it. You couldn't exactly see their faces from how far away you were, but you could make out a little bit of what was actually going on.

A boy stood in the middle of the stage, the music coming directly from him as he strummed the violin with his bow, grace and elegance oozing off of him. He seemed rather focused on playing his violin precisely, not missing a single note in the song as he allowed the rich and melodic song to ring through their ears. The opened door seemed to amplify his sound even more, ringing within your brain as if it was trying to engraved its sound into her ears. Hearing a violinist play in person was truly much different from hearing it through speakers.

In a chair behind the violinist sat another figure, holding what seemed to be a violin as well in his hands. You assumed that it was the competition who had played their song earlier before you had arrived on campus. His shoulders seemed to tense as the violinist held his final note, a plaintive sound echoing through the auditorium as he held his form to leave an everlasting effect on his listeners.

The students in front of you held their breath as he finished, staring intently at where you assumed the conductor was sitting for his reaction. There was a moment of silence after the note finally fizzled into nothingness, no longer bouncing off of the walls after finding a home in the audience's ears.

"It's Park," the younger student spoke, standing up from where they originally crouched down. "Park is the first chair once again. Honestly, was I expecting a change? No, not really. He's just that talented."

"I was really rooting for Kang this time," the other student spoke, huffing as they crossed their arms in disappointment. "I wonder what he did to not get picked again this time. Usually, Kang performs wonderfully but we weren't early enough to catch his turn."

"Whatever it is," the older student added, shutting the door to the auditorium and shrugging his shoulders. "I'm sure Kang will get over it. I mean that's always next time! But I guess I say that every time this happens..."

When the trio had disappeared from sight, you couldn't help but open the door to the auditorium and peek inside. You had been walking past this exact area how many times and you didn't even notice an event like this happening? Your either extremely stupid or completely oblivious, there's no in between.

You pulled on the heavy auditorium doors, peering in the room to take a look for yourself. The room was chilly, much colder than the breezes nature had been giving you so far. It was like you had stepped straight into the freezer, feeling the need to rub your arms for warm to make sure you didn't suddenly die from the cold. "How long has this place been here? I could have sworn this was an administration office or a classroom... literally anything but an auditorium..." you mumbled to mumbled, your eyes drifting towards the stage.

Only one violinist was at the stage, his instrument dangling in his hands as he sat in silence. The other violinist and conductor were nowhere to be seen, abandoning him to be alone with his thoughts. He must have been the one who wasn't picked by their conductor for first chair, reveling in his defeat by his peer. "Is it that serious?" you mumbled, going to close the door before you zoomed to your class, only just a few minutes late.

Though you saw the violinist rise from his seat in the corner of your eye, approaching the edge of the stage to leave the room. Of course, being the generally nice person you were, you pushed the door back open, holding it open for the violinist to pass through. "Hey, are you about to— Woah! Woah, woah, woah, don't do that!" You yelled at him.

The violinist had raised his instrument high above the ground, a bored and uninterested look in his eyes as he debated on whether he was going to let the violin drop from the height it was at and scar it. It definitely wasn't going to shatter and break, but an ugly dent would be achieved through the notion. Your yelling seemed to stop him in his tracks, preventing him from possibly making the worst decision in his life.

"Don't violins cost a lot of money?" You nagged, forgetting about the door you were holding open and marching towards him. "I know you might be frustrated over whatever just happened but is it really worth breaking your instrument? You should be satisfied with the fact that you even got the chance to be chosen as an option for, what was it, first chair? Whatever it is, I think breaking your violin might be a really bad..." you trailed off as you got closer, slowing down your pace as you got closer to the stage

The violinist stared at you through his long blonde bangs, his eyes gleaming in the dingy and dim stage lights. Despite the horrible lighting it seemed to illuminate him as if he was some sort of statue on display, every curve and sharp corner of his face being highlighted just perfectly. His impassive expression refused to let you in on any sort of emotion or thought in his head, locking you out with every chain known to man. His eyes glanced over you, reading you like an open book before he finally spoke. "Why... do you care?"

Your eyes dropped from his face to his violin, taking note of the bored expression and the red tinged violin in his hands. It seemed like it had been used frequently, it's the color worn from age and usage with scratches scattered throughout the instrument's body. "Oh...," you trailed, dropping your hands to your side in defeat.

How long had he been here? Hiding right under your nose in what seemed to be plain sight. How long were you going to go without realizing the violinist from your freshman year was attending the same university as you? "It's you again."

The boy titled his head curiously, a moment of silence expanding over them like a blanket. You felt like you were going to twitch and squirm under his gaze, the eerie silence of the auditorium and his almost blank stare making the atmosphere uncomfortable for you. All you could think about was the one sided argument you two had; how you had embarrassed yourself in front of your whole neighborhood just because you wanted him to play a song for you. The amount of humiliation that was crashing over you like angry waves could have washed you right of the auditorium if it wanted to.

The violinist crouched down on the stage to look down on you, resting his head on his hands as he began to speak. “Do I... know you?”

“Do you know me?” You repeated, disbelief prevalent in your tone of voice. “Did you really just ask that? Of course you know me! Remember from this summer? Just a few months back?”

The boy nodded his head as you spoke, absorbing all the information you were telling him and letting it process in his brain. He closed his eyes as he began to form his final thoughts, leaning back on his heels before opening them again and staring at you. “Ah... I remember now. You were Wooyoung’s fling for a couple weeks... right?”

“What?” You exclaimed, a rosy pink tint spreading across your face as you spoke. You’ve never even spoken to the guitarist boy when he lived near you, nevertheless have a fling with him. The mere thought of doing something so... dangerous like that made your skin crawl. “No... I don’t... listen, are you serious? You don’t remember who am I at all? Not a thing about me seems to trigger some sort of memory in you?”

“Not to be rude,” he responded, lifting himself out of his crouched position and beginning to walk across the stage to the stairs positioned at the side. “But you don’t look like the most memorable type. I mean if I don’t remember you are, would anyone else be able to?”

His blunt honestly was like a knife to the chest, only he was repeatedly sinking the weapon into your already open wound. Had he always been this straightforward with people? Of course he was, that’s why you never got him to play a song for you. You didn’t even know whether or not you liked the fact that he didn’t recognize who you were because he had formatted his words. You’d much rather be remembered for something embarrassing you did than be forgettable as a whole.

Though by the time you had clocked back into reality, a snarky and rude comment ready to hit the bullseye on the back of his head, he was gone. There was no sign of violinist boy anywhere in the room, as if he has quiet literally disappeared into thin air. “I should have just let him smash his violin to pieces,” you rumbled, now not only late to class but also filled with bitter rage that wasn’t even reciprocated.

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notquitecanon · 4 years

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Ohhhh or maybe one where the reader just makes jasper talk for a while just cuz she adores his accent 🥺

Jasper could feel your bad mood from outside your house- he was always so attuned you you. If his abilities were anymore developed he would probably be able to see your mood like a dark storm cloud hovering outside of your bedroom. Alice had a vision in the middle of their hunt of how your day would go, but with the sunny weather and the face they were already in the Canadian wilderness- he could do nothing but hope it wasn’t too bad. After stopping by his house to change clothes, he made a beeline to the tree line that surrounded your yard like a natural property line. He’d seen your silhouette in your window starting at five pm, but couldn’t make a move until the sun had gone down. The last thing his family needed was Chief Swan getting called because your neighbor caught him climbing into your window. The moment the sun dipped below the tree line, he raced up and into your bedroom.

You had been wallowing in self pity: already showered, in pajamas, and lying face down in bed with your computer playing some of your music quietly. The moment he crossed into your room, you felt his presence like a calming wave washing over you. Eyes fluttering shut as some of the tension left your body, you muttered, “Jasper.”

“Evenin’ Darlin.” His voice was like honey-warm, sweeter than sugar, slow, and sticky. Drawing you into his words and keeping you there while he lingered on the edge of your room. Ever the gentleman, waiting for your invitation. Prying your head out of your pillow, you faced him.

While you observed his freshly glowing golden eyes, slightly disheveled blonde hair, statuesque posture, and heavenly face- he did the same, taking in your tense muscles, dark under eye bags, flushed cheeks, and the general feeling of resignation and annoyance in your emotional map. He didn’t fail to notice you’d been crying- you didn’t fail to notice that he noticed. You were the first to break the silence, adjusting yourself to meet his eyes easier, “Good hunt?”

Jasper breathed a quiet laugh, such an abnormal question asked so nonchalantly, but entertained the notion nonetheless, “Most of us went up into Canada, into the mountains. Emmet took on a pretty big grizzly so he’s in a particularly good mood. I got a Moose and a couple deer.”

You didn’t know what truly constituted a “good hunt” but his thirst seemed appeased so you nodded. The head ache that came after a long day hadn’t put you in a particularly chatty mood. Jasper filled the silence, “Alice told me you had a bad day- well, told me you would have a bad day. I’m sorry I couldn’t help, doll.”

Shaking your head, you brought your knees up to your chest before wrapping your arms around them, “Not your fault, Jazz, bad days happen.”

There was a beat of silence as the two of you stared at each other, him trying to dissect every emotion you were feeling and you mentally begging him to just drop it. Finally, you just patted the spot beside you, motioning for him to join you. Talking waant something you wanted to do, but just having him close would be a big step towards feeling better.

As always, the vampire had a hard time saying no to you. So with the mattress dipping beside you, he easily slid beside you- staying perfectly still until you were situated. As usual, you bunched up a blanket where you cheek would rest against his chest- thick enough to cushion against his stone chest but thin enough to be close enough to smell the comforting scent he always had on him. Cologne, cedar, leather, something woodsy, and a sweet scent you could never quite put a finger on. After letting you settle, he looked down to you, “Wanna talk about it, sugar?”

He felt you shake you head before you nestled closer to him, so he just wrapped his arm around you alternating between tracing patterns up you arm and running cold, graceful fingers through your hair. One of your arms flopped across him just to have more phsyical contact, and Jasper frowned out of your sight. Besides truly changing your emotions (which felt invasive), he didn’t know how else to help. So for the moment, he just let you curl into him. Golden eyes raked across the room before landing on a book on your nightstand so without jostling you, he easily snatched it up.

Not bothering to read the synopsis, he began flipping through the first chapter- quickly becoming amused at the scandalous historical fiction set during the Civil War in Mississippi. Now that he thought about it, he remembered Angela passing it off to you during third period. He chuckled at a particularly inaccurate and racy part. His laughter was deep and reverberated through his hard chest which roused you, at your movement, he tried to quiet himself, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. This book is just so terrible.”

His amusement made it hard not to smile as you tried to snatch the book out of his hands, the racy novel had been on lend from Angela and after the second chapter had been collecting dust on your nightstand. He easily kept it out of your reach, amusement growing at your protest (and quiet proud that he’d got you laughing again, he could already feel your mood lightening up). Listening to his laughter made you long to hear him talk in the smooth southern accent, about anything (anything other than that awful book), “Well, if the book isn’t up to par, how about you tell me what it was really like?”

As his chuckling was dying off, he thought about it before tossing the book back on the nightstand. It wasn’t that his past was an off limits topic, there was just a lot of it and he preferred to live in the moment with you. But you were staring up at him with hopeful eyes, and he could feel the remnants of sadness and frustration so he just nodded. “Well, first of all Mississippi didn’t see battle until The Spring of 1862, and union soldiers didn’t make any head way until a year later. So the notion that a this woman met a union soldier celebrating victroy in New Albany is just wrong. Even if it was true, she wouldn’t be so eager to fall into any soldiers tent considering Conderate troops would of torched her father’s plantation for being a sympathizer or vice versa.”

“Hmmm.” You hummed in response to the history lesson, before he continued going back and forth between learned history and personal experience until he hit where he was changed. You’d heard this story, traced the silvery scars on his arms, so once he went quiet you didn’t press any further. “So where were you at the turn of the century?”

“I was still with Maria, we were going back and forth across the border in Texas and New Mexico, I honestly didn’t now it was the new century until 1905, but we were the cause of the Austin Dam failure.” He mused, thinking pack, “I left shortly after the start of the First World War, to search for my friend Peter and because I was tired of fighting Maria’s battles- she starting to lose trust in me and me in her.”

You’d heard him talk about Peter and Charlotte, the only two he ever let escape, “Did you find him?”

“No, not until the late 1930’s, so I mostly just wandered around the South and the West as a nomad. The roaring twenties were fun between Chicago and Mexico City, I’d like to go back to New Mexico someday.” He thought aloud, cold lips ghosting on the crown of your head as his grip on you tightened ever so slightly. The hand laid over him searched for his so you could intertwine you fingers with him. He squeezed for a moment before detaching just to play with you fingers, burning hot compared to his cold touch.

“Where’d you go next?” You asked, letting him gently tug and curl your fingers with his. Jasper laughed bringing your knuckles up to his lips. When he had just fed, it was so much easier to be so close- which is where he preferred to be.

“You’re mighty full of question tonight, ma’am.” He teased, dropping you hand in favor of lightly digging his fingers into your side. The quiet squeal, laughter, and weak attempts at fighting him off was so delightfully human that he couldn’t help but do it every now and then. Jasper gave you a moment to calm down before continuing, “I spent some time in Tennessee and then Kentucky, the Great Depression hit those areas pretty hard, but it was better than being involved in a territory war.”

“Peter and Charlotte ran into me in the Appalachian mountains- that would be the late 30’s- it was easier to hunt without gaining attention up there.” He paused to gauge you reaction, carefully checking for any fear. Finding none, he sighed in relief before continuing, “They told me about Coven’s in the North, how there weren’t many territory disputes and how in some areas they could even go out in day light...”

You let your eyes slip closed, tension melting as you listened to his honeyed words, and his fingers toyed with your hair. Jasper kept going, talking about traveling with Peter and Charlotte through the Midwest and Northern states before breaking off from them too. Then it was the Fifties, going into a diner and meeting Alice. You’d always envied Alice a bit for her closeness to Jasper, even though you knew neither of them felt that way for each other, but you were also incredibly grateful to her- who knows where Jasper would be without her.

“I remember she said that I’d kept her waiting long enough and I thought to myself I’ve never seen this woman in my life, but I sat down with her regardless and she told me about ‘vegetarianism’ and our future family. I could feel her excitement but I thought she was crazy.” He laughed to himself, a beautiful sound. You’d heard this story a few times from him and Alice. “I was about to go on my way, leave Alice in the wind when she told me something I couldn’t ignore.”

You perked up, neither of them had ever mentioned this part of the story. Craning you’re neck up, you saw he was watching you expectantly with a soft smile tugging those perfect lips up- waiting for a reaction, “She told me that she’d seen me with my soulmate and her future family. She couldn’t tell me when, or where, or how, but she’s seen it and I had to trust her. She felt so sincere and I’d been lonely for so long that I left with her that very afternoon.”

You sat up very suddenly, blood rushing to your cheeks ass you turned around to him, “Jasper, you’ve never told me that before! What are you doing with me then?”

Jasper couldn’t help but grin at the flash of indignation and feisty anger, but quickly frowned when it morphed to hurt. His movement was much faster and infinitely more graceful than yours as you took your face in his hands, “You were the girl in the vision, (Y/N), you’re what I’ve been waiting for.”

It was like someone pulled a plug on your negative emotions as they drained out to be replaced by jittery happiness, and he didn’t need his brother’s telepathy to see the wheel’s turning in your head, “Oh.”

Meanwhile, you were trying to figure out the appropriate reaction to being told your someone’s soulmate. You’d never really imagined life without Jasper, you’d long since admitted to yourself that he was the love of your life, “Well, I’m glad you believed her otherwise I could be with Mike Newton right now.”

It was a bad joke, but he laughed nonetheless and pulled you back down with him, now wrapping both arms around you-effectively trapping you to his chest, but you had no reason to be afraid or even attempt to break free. There was a long pause of silence, him sending off soothing vibes, (it was getting pretty late) listening to the sound of your heartbeat as it slowed, and waiting for you to doze off. It did surprise him when you spoke back up.

“Where’d you go next?” It was quiet, sleepy, but a request he wouldn’t deny. He’d pay you back by asking a hundred inane question about your childhood tomorrow.

Pulling your comforter over the two of you, he adjusted you to what would be a more comfortable sleeping position. He continued, “Well, in took a few years but eventually we met Carlisle who welcomed us to the family with open arms. It took a bit to adjust to the new life of going to highschools and colleges, being around humans. Alice would occasionally drop little hints about you, your hair color, eye color, things you would do in her visions, and that was enough to encourage me to stay with it.”

You only hummed in response, turning over a bit as you let him nudge you towards sleep. Jasper was more than surprised when you made it to the mid-seventies without falling asleep, but was satisfied that he could no longer read any anger or frustration on you. Brushing a lock of hair out of your sleeping face, he silently laughed at your unconscious reaction to his cold touch. Yes, he had waited nearly sixty years for you.

“Good night, darlin’. I love you.”

Bad moods and all, he’d wait a hundred years more for moments like these.

#jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock x reader

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aestheticwritingz · 4 years

Text

CEO Harry Styles / part 2 (smut)

Quick message before you start: I hope all of you guys and your closest ones are taking care in these tough times. We will get through it as a whole and in the mean time, here’s something to fulfill your dirty minds! I’m working on a series that I think you will enjoy very much and I will finish it as soon as I can! Sorry for making you wait with this one, I just got back into writing again. As always, I’m trying to be as descriptive as possible, so you can really get into it, because I like reading stories like that.

Thank you guys for positive feedback! I would love it if you could leave me some messages how you feel about my writing and these stories. It really motivates a writer! Here’s part 2 for you, if you have any ideas what I should write or what you want to read, let me know!

PART 1

“I can’t wait. Meet me in front of your house at 3 AM. H. “

I read as I was about to get out of the car. Harry wanted to see me, now. The butterflies spread throughout my whole body once again as my mind started fantasizing about what’s going to happen. I haven’t felt that spontaneous and lustful in a long time, yet my thoughts were interrupted by my dad pulling up in the driveway and notifying me we’re home. I had just enough time to shower and prepare to sneak out, hoping my parents would go to sleep by then.

As I hopped in the shower, I only then started to clearly replay what happened in the last two hours.The way he kissed me, the way he touched me - he could ruin me. Getting a text from him right away awoke my curiosity and I wanted to see what more is there to him. The thought of him wanting me like that brought excitement back, a wish to explore the inexplicable passion and hunger we have for each other.

It really wasn’t like anything I could explain or compare, but I was more than ready to pursue it - even if I met him only few hours ago. On the other hand, I really needed a decent sex - and who would be better for it than Harry?

This time I’m coming prepared, I thought to myself. Matching black and lacy set was my final decision for underwear, I fixed my hair and waited impatiently for 3 AM.

I hated sneaking out, nonetheless I put my leather jacket on and made my way to the front door. I was hoping my parents were already asleep, otherwise I’d have some explaining to do. With not that much until 3 AM, I walked out of my house, making minimal amount of noise and walked to the sidewalk. Harry was nowhere in sight and I decided to text him while waiting.

“Where are you?”

I slipped my phone back in my jacket, freezing due to cold air and breeze. Then, various questions started popping up in my head. Where are we even going to go? Is he going to drive here? Is this safe?

I shrugged all these questions off thinking how I let this man make me cum in the coatroom almost 3 hours ago, and, on the other hand, my dad knew him very well.

Dad... what if Harry tells him about this?

“Look up the street, sweetheart.” my phone read and I did just that. Harry was not far away, thankfully, but far enough so the neighbors couldn’t notice what I was doing here this late. I walked to the car, opened the door and jumped in. The sight of Harry shifted my mood and I was happier to see the beautiful smile form on his face.

“Hello, gorgeous. Nice to see you again.” He said in a lovely tone, making my body shiver with excitement. He got closer and kissed my jawline and let his lips linger there for a while, making my face heat up. He moved his lips across my cheek to my lips where he left a soft kiss. I was very confused as to why this awoke string of electricity right to my core. He could be rough or gentle with me, and I would find it equally arousing. This only made me more impatient to have him and to get to wherever he was planning to take me.

“Where are we going?”

“To my place, is that okay?” Harry said as he started to drive.

“Of course.”

Harry mentioned it was a 15 minute drive and we spent most of it chit-chatting, but neither of us were too engaged in the conversation. I could tell exactly what he was thinking about, and vice versa. He only proved that I was right, by placing his hand on my bare thigh and gently caressed it - cold breeze of those damn rings he was wearing left sensations that made my breathing erratic. He smirked looking straight ahead to the road, as he felt goosebumps rise on my leg.

He moved his hand lightly to the rhythm of whatever was playing on the radio, knowing it drove me crazy. Harry inched his fingertips to the hem of the short skirt I was wearing and played with it. He put his hand between my thighs spreading them to have access to the place where I longed him the most. He grazed his fingers against my inner thighs, his eyes still glued to the road. Harry really couldn’t wait.

Making his way to my clothed core, Harry teased me, making sure I felt every single fingerprint on my sensitive skin. “You want me to touch you so bad, don’t you?” He broke the silence and I just nodded. There was no other possible answer for me at the time, as I was still in shock from that night’s events.

He obliged, surprisingly, considering he loved to tease. He rubbed soft circles over the cotton part of my panties and I let out a gentle whimper. Rough pads of his fingers and panties rubbing against my clit felt amazing, and Harry felt I was already getting wet. Yet, of course, as soon as he found his rhythm - he stopped, but didn’t move his fingers. I held back a whine and urge to squeeze my thighs together in order to feel even a bit pleasure.

“Rub yourself against me, I know how much you want it.” He said, rough voice and dirty words making it harder for me not to stop the car and fuck him right there. I lifted my hips up a bit, and started swaying my hips up and down, then in circles.

“Just like that, sweetheart.” he looked at me for a few seconds and let out a low groan, keeping his eyes glued to the road. He unexpectedly moved my panties to the side, allowing himself to feel my wetness and trap his fingers between my folds as I continued to move against him.

Once again, he stopped his actions, now moving his hand completely. He put his fingers in my mouth letting me taste myself and stopped a disapproving groan to leave my mouth.

“Don’t be impatient sweetheart, you will have me soon enough.” He said just as we were pulling up to the driveway. I got out of the car and straightened my skirt, following Harry to his front door. We entered the house and I was immediately amazed how his place looked. It was a real adult place, but with distinctive details, signifying it was Harry. Actually, it looked exactly like him - clean, neat and pleasing to the eyes. He had a whole white-gray aesthetic going on, perfectly mixed with shiny marble tiles.

“Do you want something to drink?”

“Just some water, please.” he nodded, “Make yourself comfortable.” He added, leaving to the kitchen. I made my way to the big gray couch in the living room, after taking my shoes of at the entrance - I don’t want to ruin anything in this house, I thought to myself. After sitting comfortably on the gray couch, there Harry was, with two water bottles. He sat next to me and got a small remote and with one swift click, the fireplace turned on. Am I in a fanfiction?

“Do you do this with all girls?” I chuckled. He reciprocated and shook his head. “Only with special ones.” He winked and let cheeky smile form on his face making my heart sink.

In no time, we were engaged in a heated make out session. Although things between Harry and I moved fast, neither of us seemed to mind. We couldn’t keep hands off each other - not at a public event in the coatroom, not in the car for a 15 minute drive, and sure as hell not when we’re inside, on a couch and very close to one another. Harry suggested we go to his bedroom and I happily obliged.

His room was matching the rest of the house, only here, the main wall was replaced by a huge window, overlooking the city. It really was an experience, the street lights hitting the window and then the bed, centered against the other wall. Dim lights gave off a special vibe and room quickly filled up with lust and desire. Before we made our way to the bed, Harry went to the bathroom connected to his room and I took my time to take off my clothes and wait for him in only underwear. Gaining the sudden confidence wasn’t as hard as choosing the position I was going to wait for Harry in. Should I lay on the bed? Should I stand next to it?

Still, Harry caught me off guard as he entered the room again and I was left standing there with a smirk on my face. His jaw dropped as he was scanning my body with his eyes, filling me up with confidence even more.

“Do you like what you see?” I said biting my lip. Harry nodded as he got closer to me, grabbed me by my waist and pulled me closer to him. He glided his hands gently across the skin of my waist, lower back and then butt, squeezing it roughly. Right when he was about to kiss my neck, I pushed him on the bed and he propped himself up with his elbows, gazing at me.

I straddled his lap and we started making out again. The way Harry was kissing me was very different than people I’ve kissed before. His lips were soft and gentle but still hungrily attacked mine. He slipped his tongue in my mouth after teasing my bottom lip and his hands were busy touching every part of my body. He lifted me easily and threw me on the bed, immediately getting on top of me. Somewhere in the process, I made Harry take his shirt and pants off, leaving him in boxers, so I could feel every inch of his skin on mine.

His skin was soft and he smelled great, and our bodies fit perfectly together on the bed as we were grinding against each other. His hands were wrapped around my body and he lifted my back a little so he could undo my bra. He pulled it off me and threw it beside the bed. He kissed down my collar bones and then between my breasts which made me buck my hips up and rub against his already hard member. He trapped one of my nipples between his mouth and sucked on it, making me arch my back into the bed. He didn’t fail to give attention to my other breast - he rolled my nipple against his palm slowly and then between his fingers. He grazed over them with his rings earning a soft moan from me.

He continued kissing down my stomach gently, looking up at me. He got to the hem of my panties and pulled them down with his teeth, not breaking the gaze between us. He spread my legs easily and started kissing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. Having him this close only made me more eager for him, if possible.

He looped his hands around my legs and arched them in my knees. Harry finally licked a strip on my clit, spreading my folds with his fingers on both sides so he can get more access. He started licking, sucking and humming over my pussy relentlessly, attacking every pleasure nerve while a loop of moans escaped my mouth.

“Tell me how it feels, baby,” Harry managed to say between assaulting my pussy in the best way possible.

“So fucking good Harry,” “Mmm,” he hummed on my clit, and put two fingers inside of me without notice. That made me scream out his name as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of me. The room was soon filled with sloppy moans and slapping sounds from how rough Harry was with me - and how I repeatedly slammed my hips down on his fingers.

He pulled his fingers out and looped them under my thighs again, slamming my hips against the bed. “You don’t want me to tie you down, do you?” What was a good answer for this? Both would work for me. “I want you to cum on me, baby.” Harry said moving away from me. I took the chance to turn him over and get on top of him. “I want you inside of me know,”

I pulled his boxers down as he rested back on the headboard. I took his hard, leaking dick in my hand and started pumping up and down, not breaking eye contact with Harry. I looked at him innocently and he seemed to like it very much. I got down and wrapped my lips around the tip and started sucking slowly.

“Fuck,” was all Harry said before he took my hair in a makeshift ponytail. I started bobbing my hair up and down on him feeling every protruding vein wrapped around his dick. “Just like that, sweetheart mm,”

He wrapped one of his hands around my jaw and with other one still holding my hair, he lowered my head on him to meet his hips lifting up. String of saliva glazed him and even though he was deep in my throat, I still looked him directly in the eyes. “You like it when I’m fucking your throat like that? Such a good girl for me,” Harry moaned out as I whimpered against him. He then proceeded to pull out of my mouth and, with no time to catch my breath, he pulled me on top of him. Still rested against the headboard, Harry grabbed my hips, aligned himself against my entrance and slowly entered me.

“Fuck Harry... fuck me,” I breathed out as he picked up his pace. Him slamming inside of me and me trying to grind on him was a perfect mixture that made us both moan loudly in pleasure. I held on his shoulders and threw my head back, barely able to open my eyes as I felt him hit every spot inside of me.

Unexpectedly, Harry slapped my ass hard which made me scream out, and I could hear him chuckle that turned into a soft moan. “You like getting spanked, don’t you? While you ride my dick like that, mm?”

“Yes, slap me harder, please,” and he did.

“That’s a good girl I want.”

He grabbed my jaw roughly as he continued to pound into me with a perfect pace, bringing me closer to him to kiss me. It was sloppy, but equally hot as before. Without notice he turned us both over so he was on top. He kept fucking me roughly, but slowed down and went deeper than before on occasion, feeling up every inch of my body and filling up every part of my pussy.

He brought his hand down and wrapped it around my neck, choking me with just enough intensity to make me squeeze around his dick. I felt my high approaching fast and with every thrust he made, I was falling apart more.

“I’m so close, Harry,” “I can feel it, baby. Tell me how good I’m making you feel.” “So fucking good, fuck-”

“Yeah? Cum for me then, baby.”

And those simple words made me release everything that was building up inside of me, string of curse words and moans left my mouth as Harry rode out my orgasm. He turned me around so I was laying on my stomach and re-entered me at a slow pace this time, then bent down and pinned my hands above my head with his. This position allowed him to get deeper inside of me than before and he took the chance to kiss along the back of my neck and shoulders.

“You feel so good around me, I’m so close baby,” he said while thrusting slowly, but deeply making me let out whimpers of his name.

Few of those were enough to get Harry to cum and I felt him twitch inside of me. In the last second he pulled out, pumped himself a couple of times and came on my back.

“Fuck. Me.” he said as he plopped down beside me. I was barely able to breathe, let alone speak. I haven’t felt like that in a while, orgasm that strong, passion and lust for someone that exciting.

Harry cleaned me up with tissues, threw them away and swung one hand around me.

“How was that, sweetheart?” “Not bad for an old guy,” I joked and we both laughed, out of energy. A lot of things happened that night - the night I finally let go and decided to enjoy myself for a change. While we cuddled, wasted of energy, the sun rose up slowly over the city and I figured it was time to leave soon. Not a part of my mind thought about whether this was a one time thing or not, I just enjoyed the moment.

That’s until Harry broke the silence:

“I want to see you again, baby girl.”

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#harry styles smut #harry styles dirty imagine #harry styles daddy #Harry Styles #one direction smut #one direction dirty imagine #one direction #harry styles fic #harry styles fine line

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trashyswitch · 3 years

Text

An Unexpected Roommate

Chapter 11: Demanding The Truth

Robbie feels hurt and annoyed that no one will tell him what the paper said, and demands to see the paper. But his anger and frustration causes him to break something, hurting Henrik in the process.

This chapter (again) talks about PTSD, nightmares and anger. Later on, it makes references to police crimes and police brutality. Though the crimes are not related to racial bias, it's still police brutality nonetheless. Lastly: there is talk about the usual result of Robbie's zombifying process.

There is quite a bit of angst in this chapter, but it ends off on a good note.

Robbie woke up the next morning crying and hugging his stuffed dog. The nightmares of dying and waking up in the morgue had been plaguing him more and more lately. Some nights he almost didn’t want to sleep. Why would he sleep when he knows his head is gonna bring him back to what had happened?

Robbie angrily threw Bacon onto the foot of the bed. This sucked. He loved sleeping. And cuddling Chase without falling asleep in his arms was not as fun. But the nightmares were ruining it. Robbie hugged his head with his arms and started to growl to himself. Why did someone choose to kill him and his parents?! WHY?!

Robbie got off his bed, walked to the door and opened it instinctively like he always did. He grabbed the bathrobe he’d been given by Chase, and put it on. He walked out to the hallway and grabbed Henrik’s backpack filled with his stuff. He missed this stuff so much. But it didn’t fix the fact that his parents were dead and never to be seen again. He never even had a proper chance to say goodbye before the evil killer barged in and ruined his life.

Robbie walked to Henrik’s room and walked right in without knocking. He had no time for knocking when he wanted questions answered. He looked up at Henrik and immediately felt the need to hug him and cry his pain away. But he did that yesterday! And crying didn’t fix the fact that his parents were dead.

“Robbie? Do you hear me? Are you okay? Vhat’s rrong?” Henrik asked, growing worried.

Robbie frowned more. “I want answers.” Robbie told him downright. “Why did that man kill them? Why did I survive while my parents died and never came back?” Robbie asked with pain showing on his face.

Robbie noticed Henrik dropping his head and sighing. Henrik didn’t like to talk about it. He could tell. But Robbie needed to know! Now was not time to hide the pain that spiralled inside his head! Now was time to get answers!

“I wanna know!” Robbie told him.

“I don’t know. I do not know vhy your parents vere killed. I vasn’t zhere, and you do not say much.” Henrik replied. Robbie noticed how his english was more broken than usual for some reason.

Robbie walked up to the desk and looked around for the paper that Henrik, Chase and Jamie all had read. It must have all the answers! That’s why they were keeping secrets from him!

“Vhat are you-”

“Where’s the check record?” Robbie asked in a slightly demanding voice.

Henrik widened his eyes and got up. He walked to the desk and opened a drawer, revealing it and handed it to him. “Here.”

Robbie turned on the desk lamp and read it. But the words were all so big! Why must the words be so long and hard to read?! Robbie bursted out crying and threw the paper down before hiding his face in his hands. “I-I CAN’T REEEEAAAD IIIIT!” Robbie cried loudly. “Itknows w-why they died but I CAN’T REEEEEAAAD!”

Robbie leaned his head on the desk and pounding his fists on the table.

Henrik walked closer and was about to touch his shoulder…

STUPID BRAIN! STUPID BODY! STUPID PAPER!

Robbie ended up pushing all the stuff that was on the desk, right onto the floor. The room went dark again as he closed his eyes and started crying all over again. All the things he threw...It was all just stuff to Robbie. And none of it mattered compared to his parents. But Robbie’s thoughts were interrupted by a yelp and a crash. Robbie looked over with his blurry eyes and stared at the blob of adult body holding something…

Robbie quickly rubbed his eyes free of the tears the moment he heard sobs and cries from Henrik. What had happened? Did he do something wrong?

Robbie looked down and immediately noticed the shattered glass on the ground. Henrik was holding one of the large glass shards. But then Henrik threw the glass onto the ground.

“WAS ZUM TEUFEL IST FALSCH MIT DIR?!” Henrik suddenly shouted.

Robbie jumped about 5 feet away. Oh no...He’s SUPER angry! But what’s he saying?!

“Dies war ein Geschenk von meiner Tochter! Wie konntest du?!” Henrik kept going. He wasn’t yelling, but he was still speaking another language he didn’t understand. All he understood from that was the thought that it might’ve been important to him. “Wenn du wolltest, dass ich das verdammte Blatt lese, hättest du fragen können!” Henrik told him.

...What?

“Fahrt zur Hölle, Robbie.” Henrik shot at him through his teeth.

Robbie widened his eyes. It didn’t take much to understand those words were meant for him. Robbie’s eyes grew glassy as he slowly walked out of the room. But Robbie was quickly stopped by Chase. “Robbie? What are you doing up?” Chase asked him.

Robbie shook his head. He was too scared to say. Robbie turned around to Henrik, and welled up with tears. Quickly, Robbie ran down the hall from them into the dark. Robbie felt too terrible to face what he had done. He knew that he hurt Henrik somehow, and felt terrible for it. But he didn’t want to know what he had said to him. It could’ve meant anything. He could’ve yelled swears at him. He could’ve called him names. Or worse: he could’ve called him worthless without him even knowing.

The endless possibilities of what he could’ve said just filled his mind and spiralled out of control. He soon felt like a tornado of emotions and thoughts. By the time someone had walked in, Robbie was curled up on the ground, crying and sniffling.

Chase walked himself in with a paper in his hand. “2 Physical assault charges. That means he had to pay someone lots of money for hitting someone really hard two times.” Chase told him.

Robbie lessened his sobs a little to hear him better.

“Misuse of firearms four times. Firearms meaning a gun.” Chase explained. “Your father was not using the gun for good reasons.” Chase told him.

Robbie lifted himself up and looked at him. Chase knelt down and pointed at something else on the paper. “Manhandling. Your Dad was pushing someone around and treating them roughly like a football player would.” Chase explained.

Robbie walked closer and looked at the paper. “A-Austin has been given a warning of a $600 fine and...and a couple months jail time.” Robbie read out loud.

Chase looked at the paper. “Your father had to give 600 dollars over for…” Chase read a bit more. “Physical assault. Or, hitting someone really hard.” Chase explained.

Robbie looked at the signature and the name at the bottom. “I know that name!” Robbie told him.

Chase hummed in confusion and looked at the name as well. He didn’t recognize the name, but he knew from the documentation that it was the police chief. “You met the police chief?” Chase asked.

“Yeah!” Robbie ran to the backpack and came back with a car in his hand. “He gave me this police car!” Robbie told him. “It used to light up before the batteries died.” Robbie added.

Chase smiled and picked up the kid. “Let’s go put some new batteries in.” Chase decided.

Robbie smiled and leaned on Chase as he was carried to the kitchen. Chase opened up a drawer near the phone and pulled some AA and AAA batteries out of the packs.

Robbie got the police car bottom open on his own, and took out the old batteries. Then, Chase put the correct new batteries in the right way, and let Robbie put the cover back on. Robbie turned it the correct way and clicked the red and blue light on the car roof. Suddenly, the car lights lit up and a somewhat loud siren sound filled the room! Robbie gasped and giggled as he watched it. “It works!” Robbie declared.

Chase smiled. “That is a really cool toy.” Chase told him.

“I like it too! I used to pretend Dad was riding it around the city.” Robbie told him.

Then, Robbie’s smile dropped as the truth about his Dad had started to click into place in his head. Robbie looked at the police car. “If my Dad hit people, pushed people and played with his gun...then he wasn’t a good police man.” Robbie thought out loud.

Chase shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe he wasn’t. But that paper doesn’t tell us about the good things he’s done.” Chase mentioned.

Robbie looked at Chase. “So he saved people and hurt people?” Robbie asked.

Chase nodded. “That’s the best way we can look at this paper. Yes, he did some bad things. But I’m sure he did lots of good things too. Doing bad things and good things is what makes us human.” Chase told him.

Robbie nodded and thought about something. “Did you do bad things too?” Robbie asked.

Chase bit his lip and thought for a moment. Should he tell him? Or should he keep it secret?

...He decided to tell him. “Yes. I have done some bad things. I’ve lied, yelled at people, and broken things.” Chase told him.

“Why?” Robbie asked.

Chase closed his eyes and could feel his eyes growing glassy. “Be-Because anger makes you do stupid things.” Chase replied.

Robbie nodded and snuggled into Chase’s chest. Chase wrapped his arms around Robbie and sat down properly so they could cuddle. As they were cuddling, Robbie finally decided to confess what he did. “I got angry and threw some papers off the desk.” Robbie told him. “I knocked down a lamp that was special to him.” Robbie’s voice started to break.

Chase rubbed Robbie’s back. “There there. I know you feel terrible for that.” Chase said. “Do you wanna know why it was so special?” Chase asked. All it took was a nod for him to continue. “His daughter had bought that lamp and painted it for him.” Chase told him. “He also has a child that he never sees.” Chase admitted.

“Why can’t you see your kids? Why can’t Henry see his daughter?” Robbie asked.

Chase sighed. “When someone’s heart is broken from too many mistakes...they look for someone to blame their broken heart on, because it’s easier.” Chase explained. “It’s like lying. People lie because it feels easier than telling the truth. But lying breaks you more than telling the truth does.” Chase admitted.

“So telling the truth hurts people less?” Robbie asked.

Chase looked away for a moment. “...Sometimes.”

Robbie tilted his head. “I’m confused.”

Chase chuckled at that. “I imagine. The people on earth are super hard to understand.” Chase admitted.

“You’re super hard to understand, Chase.” Robbie admitted.

Chase laughed at that. “Mhm.

Robbie looked at Chase. “Henry was hard to understand. He was speaking german.” Robbie told him.

Chase nodded and scratched the back of his head. “Yeah...He does that when he’s angry, scared or laughing.” Chase told him.

Robbie lit up. “Like when he was being tickled at the doctor’s!” Robbie added.

“Yes! Like that.” Chase replied.

Robbie looked at him. “I’m scared of what he said.” Robbie admitted.

“Would you like to go over and apologize?” Chase asked.

Robbie nodded and allowed himself to be put down onto the ground. Then, Robbie turned off the police car, handed it to Chase and ran to Henrik’s room. He knocked on the door.

“Ja?” Henrik responded.

The kid held his hands. “It’s Robbie.”

Robbie didn’t hear anything after that. Just a bit of shuffling. Soon, the door opened and revealed Henrik in his PJ’s.

“I’m really sorry I broke your lamp. I shouldn’t have broken it. It was special to you and now it’s gone. I’m sorry Henry.” Robbie told him, his voice starting to break near the end.

Henrik knelt down and opened his arms to him. Immediately, Henrik felt the kid’s weight in his arms and hugged him tightly. “I forgive you Robbie.” Henrik told him. “And I apologize for yelling at you like zhat. You vere right: it vas special to me. But zhat does not excuse my reaction.” Henrik told him. “I was what the Germans would call, a dummkopf.” Henrik admitted.

Robbie giggled at the word and hugged him a bit tighter at his response. Robbie could somewhat understand what dummkopf meant, thanks to the first word’s pronunciation sounding like ‘dumb’. But beyond that: it felt nice to have the pain between him and Henrik patched up. Even though the anger lasted 15 to 30 minutes, it actually felt like hours to the small boy. The kid was just happy to have fixed up the tension at least a little bit.

Perhaps there was more he could do?

“Henry?” Robbie called softly.

“Yes?” Henrik replied.

Robbie pulled away to look at him. “Can I sleep with you tonight?” he asked.

Henrik smiled at the question and nodded his head. “Of course you can!”

Robbie smiled and fluffed up Robbie’s hair. Robbie giggled at it and fluffed Henrik’s hair right back before running to the bed.

“Ey! Come back du Bengel!” Henrik reacted, chasing after him to the bed. Robbie laughed and jumped onto the bed, wiggling his fingers. “Oooh no! No vey you’re gettin’ me and ticklin’ me!” Henrik declared.

“Okay, okay.” Robbie put his arms down and settled into Henrik’s bed.

Despite Robbie’s clear surrender, Henrik still took a couple extra steps to be 100% sure he was done. After all, he could’ve been just faking it.

But Robbie looked completely cozy and ready to sleep. So, Henrik crawled into bed and waved good night to Chase. “Gute Nacht Chase!” Henrik wished.

“Good night Henrik. Sleep tight you two.” Chase replied before closing the door.

Chase felt the door latch click shut and leaned against the door for a few minutes. He felt exhausted and quite guilty for telling Robbie everything. Even though Robbie had to know the truth, it was still a hard truth to wrap your head around. A policeman turned murderer with a wife and an 8 year old child? Talk about a heartbreaking family.

Chase’s thoughts were quickly interrupted by a yelping sound, followed by bed-rustling and laughter. Chase’s lips grew into a smile as he let out a few quiet laughs. Robbie’s an evil little kid who sucks at stopping when he’s ahead. Robbie’s simple ability to stay quiet and keep his motives hidden for so long, simply proved just how far his mischief could go. Chase had better keep his 6th sense awake in case Robbie pulls a scheme like that on him later.

But...That mischief and scheming was part of what made Robbie the boy he is. Finding the laughter in the hardest of times, and making things right when there’s tension. Maybe...Chase didn’t need to worry about how Robbie will take the new information. Robbie’s a smart kid. A lot smarter than they give him credit for. If there’s one person who knows how to fight his battles independently, it’s him. And if he’s hit rock bottom, he knows there’s an army of people to go to for help.

Chase smiled to himself as he walked away. ‘He’ll be okay...he’ll be okay.’

#an unexpected roommate #chapter 11 #angst with a hopeful ending #emotional hurt #angst and hurt/comfort #seek the truth

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jenovahh · 4 years

Text

Catharsis -

Rating: General Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Patch 5.3 Spoilers

A love letter to a certain Ascian. ============================================================

She wonders if they’re envious, jealous even the tiniest bit.

It is still too soon, A’yana thinks. It takes nothing but a thought to let the flow of aether spin around her and transport her to the First if she so wished; but she is feeling nostalgic today.

Is it nostalgia? It feels worse than nostalgia.

She fingers the gear in her pocket, feels how it has slowly worn and grown smooth with her constant fumbling with it. Just holding it in her hand no longer takes her back to that other world; only by pure will alone can she whisk herself away.

And so she does.

The magic, the Exarch’s magic, that's still so familiar picks her up and spirits her across both time and space, replacing the warm comfort of her cottage to the cool crystal of the Ocular.

She didn’t want her return to be known. Didn’t want to make the people wonder why she was back so soon, to make them worry and question if some tragedy had befallen the Source, if her friends hadn’t made it safely back home. She wants them to forget. For her and the Scions to become memories, to ease the pain of knowing they will never see them again. The Ocular is still safe, the memory of the Exarch still too painful for Lyna or anyone else to return to.

Would that A’yana could learn from their example.

It is with that in mind she reaches out into the aether, reaches toward the Macarenses Angle, envisioning the city in her mind. On her next inhalation, the salty tang of the ocean fills her, though the water has long since been gone. Idly, she wonders if water will ever return to this place, if there is any undoing their disruptiveness. All things considered the Ondo took the uprooting of their very way of life relatively well, after a few favors, of course.

Breathing it in, A’yana wonders still how long the city will remain. If it will remain. Was the city not comprised of his own aether? Of something of himself? Would it be like any other failed nation, its towering spires and crowded walkways an echo of what once was, slowly giving way to time?

A’yana’s eyes burn at the notion, causing her to quickly abandon that train of thought. Reaching into her pack, she pulls out a horn, pressing the narrowest end to her lips and blowing loudly. After a beat, a gwiber swoops to land near her, its dark, obsidian scales glimmering even in the murky light. Petting it affectionately, she still questions its loyalty, though her heart knows the answer. It had showed up not too long after she had defeated him, following her nigh everywhere until she finally accepted it as her own.

Climbing atop its back, she grabs hold of the reins, giving them a fierce flick to urge the beast to take off into the sky. Dark magic surrounds it as its amethyst wings beat, carrying them higher in the tall city.

She flies with no destination in mind, merely wanting to glide past the sturdy brick, the immaculate glass. Even though she had never seen the original with her own eyes, not in this life at least, she still can tell that he had an eye for detail. Someone who lived as lavishly as he did, who built nations as great and prosperous as his home, would spare nothing.

If only, she could have spared him.

Some nights he haunts her nightmares, nightmares new and old. After learning her title, she has dreams, or perhaps visions, maybe even memories of her past life. Sometimes they are happy; glimpses of meeting new people, seeing strange places. Trying new things. Other times, they are filled with despair and woe, of the panic of not feeling she is going far enough, flying fast enough, looking deep enough on how to save their star--

A tear escapes its confines from the corner of her eye and she reaches up to gently dab at it. It would be those nights as well where the tears would come forth, her face streaked with the salty tracks upon her waking. She would lie there, staring at nothing as she would process this assault of new information, and that with each waking moment, her decisions felt like the wrong ones.

Her gwiber yelps suddenly, though it doesn’t seem to be in any visible pain. Petting it gently, A’yana holds the reigns tight as the gwiber suddenly veers downward, her heart stuttering in her chest, because while she is powerful, she is not immortal, and still susceptible to death from great heights. Clinging tight, the dragon-like creature begins to slow its descent, coming to a near halt as it comes before the great metal doors of one of the buildings. They open slowly before her, the gwiber landing gently on the pristine flooring before shaking roughly as if to throw her off.

“Hey, hey!” A’yana huffs, getting the message. She dismounts as best she can. “What’s gotten into you?!” She grumbles, stamping her foot. Rearranging the skirts of her dress to be more presentable, she crosses her arms across her chest. Despite the scantiness of her robes that are not unlike the Night's Blessed, she doesn't feel the chill of the ocean floor. “I have the mind to never call upon you again, you know.”

“Is that how you treat all things that do not act as you wish?”

Her heart stops.

It can’t be.

She doesn’t want to hope. Doesn’t want it to be true.

And yet a part of her so badly wishes that it is true, that it is him, that she’s not finally gone off the deep end--

“Really, hero. I go through the trouble of meeting you here and you cannot even turn around to greet me?”

Turn she does, so fast she trips over her skirts, her hands barely making it out in front of her in time to brace her fall. The floor is hard, and there’s a joke somewhere of how hard she fell for him, but she’s not ready to believe yet, she’s not ready, she’s not ready--

Her sapphire eyes see the edge of a black robe as it comes to a stop before her, her curly hair falling from her face as she tilts her head to look at the Amaurotine before her. To the naked eye, it looks just like any of the other apparitions that haunt these streets. Like every other conjured memory in this forgotten city. But to her…

Gods, above.

His golden eyes twinkle in her mind.

“Well? I cannot very well help you up, hero. ‘Tis plain to see I cannot even fashion the strength to assume the form you are so familiar with.” The Amaurotine scoffs, crossing their arms. They’re as tall as any other specter walking the halls, and you feel as small before him now as you did when you last saw him.

Pushing herself up to her feet, A’yana stares high up into the blank, but red mask of the ghost staring back at her. As she dusts off her brown skin, her words feel caught in her throat. There’s so much she wants to say. So much she wants to ask.

“Could you shrink, please?”

The Amaurotine stares back with a blank expression, and though it cannot emote anything else, she feels it nonetheless. An overexaggerated sigh meets her furry ears before a single hand raises up skyward, fingers brought together and--

Snap!

Before her eyes the shade is nearly her size now, as about as tall as a male Au’ra. Still big compared to someone as small in stature as her, but at least now she doesn’t feel like she could literally fit in the palm of his hand. Her lip trembles as the Amaurotine eases into a telltale slouch, one so familiar that she would’ve recognized it anywhere, even with her eyes closed. And she does close her eyes, and…

Golden eyes glitter, looking tired as ever, but relieved. Relaxed. Unburdened. Golden amulets and emblems sparkle on a lavish robe of Garlean origin, one so fancy, surely he must be nobility. Surely he is--

“Emet-Selch,” A’yana chokes out, tears flowing forth from her closed eyes.

“Now, now hero. Did I not reveal to you my true name when we last met?” He sighs once more, though it holds an amused tone. “You would do well to not bawl in my presence, when no one else is around to dry your tears.”

Nodding furiously, she wipes at her eyes with the same vigor, uncaring how she must look. Can he see how her heart leaps for him? How happy she is despite her tears? "Hades," she breathes, with so much reverence she can see him visibly recoil in surprise.

His Amaurotine body lifts both hands up, shrugging just as he does, shaking his head. "Come now. One would think you missed me despite being the one to put white auracite through my chest."

A'yana's lip quivers before she finds her words. "I have been filled with nothing but regret." She admits, the silence hanging between them. Hollow eyes stare back at her, revealing nothing.

"The truth is a heavy burden to bear." He states, a mote of pity in his tone. Taking a step closer to her, she watches as he reaches out, and gasps as she can feel his spectral hand touch her face. With delicate touch he gently closes her eyelids, giving her the vision of him once more.

"I thought you said this form wasn’t corporeal," she whimpers, her heart aching.

"Did I?" he teases, wiping at her tears. "Forgive me. I had only assumed such."

"I think you just like seeing me cry over you," She chokes out, unable to stop the waterworks.

"Quite the opposite. Unfortunately, sundered though you are, I've had quite the soft spot for you. Though when I lived, it felt akin to a thorn in my side." He chuckles catching each tear on his finger. "Though I must ask you dry your tears. I'd rather not spend my time here watching you weep."

Nodding, A'yana brings her hands up to dab at her eyes a bit more gently this time, reaching into her robes for a handkerchief to make herself more presentable. Once done, she takes a deep breath and stares at him through her closed eyes, taking him in. He looks just as she remembers, but how could he not?

"Well, if you are quite finished, shall we walk?" He offers his elbow, ever the gentleman. She tucks her hand in the crook of it, paying no mind to how it is somehow warm. She has no worry that he will lead her astray, or somehow betray her. Not after what he had done for her. For this shard and so many others.

She can hear the great doors open as he leads her outside, the salty air filling her sensitive nostrils. Her tail sways low, but excitedly, betraying her mood despite her passive face. She realizes only now how fully she trusts him; how much she has trusted him. “While I have always tried to set a stellar example but I would’ve thought you’d have learned from my mistakes.”

Her brow furrows in confusion. “Your mistakes?”

He pauses their strides for but a moment. “Your regret, hero.”

A’yana has nothing to say to that. “I...after Elidibus, I just,” She can’t find the words. Her throat tightens, her heart clenches. There’s so many things she feels, so many, and yet she cannot give them form somehow. “I wish I had known more.” She sighs, defeated.

Emet-Selch raises a strong eyebrow at her as he continues their walk. “And what would you have done if you had?”

She worries her lip, once again speechless.

“Would you have convinced your Scions we were worth sparing? Convinced an entire fragmented world that our lives were worth living? Our cause just?” He scoffs, giving a shake of his hair. “Clearly you learned nothing from Elidibus.”

“I did!” A’yana bites back, giving him a harsh shove. “I learned who I am, who I was,” She begins, her fists clenched, shaking at her sides. “I learned of his sorrow, of what I was to him, to you,” She’s losing her grip fast, her knees crumbling before her as tears well in her eyes. “I learned...I learned…” Her face breaks up more as she looks at him with her soul, seeing the pity in his eyes. “Don’t look at me that way,”

“Hero.” He utters the title with such care, the syllables having lost the vitriol he gave it when he was living. He kneels before her, hand outstretched with a clean handkerchief. “It seems that you have been holding in too much for too long.” He murmurs, watching as she furiously wipes at her eyes. “Your Scions; do they not offer you comfort?”

“How could they understand?” She laughs bitterly. “I sound like you now.”

“Hardly, hero.” He pulls her up to stand on wobbly feet, tucking her arm back in his elbow a bit tighter this time.

They continue to walk in silence as she calms down, until her nose dries up and eyes no longer water. If she works hard enough, she can see the city in her mind, envision that they walk down its roads arm and arm together. “You loved me, didn’t you?”

“Perhaps.” Emet-Selch answers vaguely, a note of amusement to his voice. “Your seat was one that had always fascinated me and you, fascinated me even more. You had the hearts of many in your pocket.” He laughs, clearly lost in the memory. “Many a suitor asked for your hand anytime you returned from your time away.”

“And...did you love me? When you were here?”

He doesn’t answer as readily this time, his steps slowing. “As best as I was able.” He answers truthfully. “To elaborate, because you certainly will ask,” he bemoans as she gives him a smack on his arm, “You are you, but you are not who you once were.”

“You mean...I am the bearer of that soul but...I am not the person I once was?”

“There are differences,” he begins, stopping beneath a lavender tree. “Some so small that it gave me absurd instances of deja vu, and some so great it was a wonder you could share the same soul at all.” He looks so at peace, no longer tempered, no longer driven by duty. Almost a different man entirely, she thinks to herself, gazing up into the tree alongside him in her mind’s eye.

The lavender calms her, soothes her already frazzled nerves. They stand there beneath the tree, time passing at a snail’s pace, but passing nonetheless. “I have so much I want to ask.” She whispers, suddenly shy.

“Then ask.” He responds simply, gazing up into the trees. The light of the city accentuates how handsome he is, and you are sure he knows it. “Use your right words.”

“Why did you...save me?” She asks, desperate to know the answer. The past few days she could do nothing but toss and turn as she speculated about his intervention, with the Scions only providing slivers of insight. And though some of them may have been right, she found herself longing to ask him herself.

“And why shouldn’t I have?” He counters, releasing her to go slouch against the tree’s broad trunk.

“Elidibus could’ve overwhelmed me. Killed me. Delivered the salvation he sought,” She takes a deep breath to keep her emotions steady. “He would have won, and in time, succeeded with the Ardor. The Rejoining,”

“Do you think your Mother would not have fashioned yet another champion?” He interrupts, leveling her with a serious look. “Given up on your soul, so strong after so many rejoinings already?”

Pursing her lips, she thinks on it for a moment. “But Elidibus,”

“You saw him.” He cuts her off once again, his expression unchanged. “Your little Scions, Y’shtola was it, had the right of it. After so many millenia, even my memories had become so watered down, mere farces of what they once were. But by His will, did I push myself forward. It had warped us all. Lahabrea, formerly so articulate and calculating, brought down by a mortal wearing the skin of a primal. Hopping from body to body, his passion had warped into him overworking himself, leading to his demise.”

He stands to full height now, approaching her with measured steps. “I, personally, had lost sight as well. I could not deal with my grief and it eventually warped me, just as it had my brother.” His tone is harsh but pleading. “You saw him, Hero. Saw how Elidibus could not even remember, what I bade you to remember.” Coming to a stop before her, he takes her chin in hand, tilting it up toward him. “Why would I leave my brother to suffer alone?”

A’yana gasps, the shock of his statement making her eyelids open as her eyes go wide, face to face with the Amaurotine shade and not the Garlean visage she held in her mind. Closing them once more, she whimpers. “So you,”

“I aided you, to end his suffering. To bring him home.” He breathes, wiping at the silent tears on her face with his own hands. “No one save you could have ended our plight. To free us from an eons worth of duty, hero. In saving you, I had saved Elidibus.”

She feels his thumb graze across her quivering bottom lip. “Is he...is he okay?”

She hears him scoff, but his lips curl into a smile. “Really now, are you incapable of thinking of yourself for but one moment?” He laughs, wiping at more tears. “We’ve already cemented the fact that you leak more than a faucet.”

A’yana does laugh then, a smile breaking out on her face. It is a strange laugh, bittersweet in its nature as he dries her puffy eyes. She will have to rest later, once she returns home. Though he has not answered her directly, she can tell what his answer is in what he has not said. “I am glad.” With a light huff, his other hand comes to wrap around her and pull her close, his body somehow feeling warm as well. “Will this be the last I see of you?”

“Perhaps,” he offers vaguely once more. She rests his head just below his chest, hugging her arms tightly around him. “As much as I have enjoyed my rest, you are far too entertaining to leave alone for too long, sweet hero.”

She promises to not cry again, willing the tears back in her eyes. “Then perhaps I will look forward to your next visit.” She teases, to which he gives a genuine laugh.

“Who knows when that will be, dear hero.” He parts with her just far enough to tilt her head toward him again, gazing deep into his topaz eyes. “We have entrusted this star to you. You must protect it, without fail.”

She nods, leaning into his hand. “There was never another option.”

“Good.” He bends down to place his lips to her forehead, placing a kiss there. “Do not let me down.”

When she opens her eyes, the shade is gone, the gwiber in its place. It gives a curious warble, giving its wings a shake as it pads toward her on its hind legs. Nudging its head under her hands, it chirrups happily, causing her to giggle as well. “I’m sorry for earlier.” She murmurs, giving an affectionate rub to its horns. “Shall we go home?”

The gwiber chirps happily as she climbs atop its back, grabbing hold of the reins. With a quick flick it takes off, ascending slowly toward the coastal shelf. As the city lights twinkle behind her, she does not look back.

She looks forward.

#Emet-Selch #solus zos galvus #warrior of light #FFXIV #ff14 #my writings #5.3 Spoilers

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bouwrites · 3 years

Text

Fire Emblem: Nationality Adjectives

Okay, okay, so, I really should have done this before getting 50 chapters into a massive 3H fic, but instead I just did what felt right and struggled around ever using an adjective for Brigid people/things because, uh... I couldn’t figure it out. Hence doing the work now.

Anyway, quick preamble for clarity’s sake, nationality adjectives are just the adjectives used to refer to something or someone from a certain place. Id est, French is to France, Japanese is to Japan, or even more broadly, European is to Europe.

For use in fanfic, I’m attempting, mostly by looking at official real-world nationality adjectives (in my language, ofc) to figure out the correct* form the adjective (and noun!) would take for regions within the world of Fire Emblem: Three Houses.

*By correct, I mean the options that don’t sound horrible.

Please add your two cents, if you have any. Please. I’m actually begging. Anyway, under the read more because idk how long this is going to get.

Let’s start with the obvious. Some are canon within the game’s world, and thus whether real-world conventions apply or not doesn’t matter. So here’s the small list of Location : Adjective : Noun* in canon that I can come up with off the top of my head.

*A missing noun denotes that the noun is the same as the adjective.

Note: When I say “in canon” I mean it’s used to refer to at least one of the adjective/noun. With one exception, I don’t believe many will argue that they make sense as both, so I simply treat them as both. (Mostly because I can’t be bothered to comb through the entire game’s script picking out where what is used as nouns or adjectives.)

Abyss : Abyssian Adrestia : Adrestian Agartha : Agarthan Almyra : Almyran Dagda : Dagdan (also the name of their language) Duscur : ??? : Duscur Nabatea : Nabatean

Duscur, the only “non-standard” one, can also probably be used as the adjective, but all canon instances I managed to find in Dedue’s support logs were used as the noun. I would be happy to use Duscur as an adjective, and thus won’t explore it here, but I’m fully ready to accept arguments against it.

In a similar vein, but not quite as versatile as proper nationality adjectives, both the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and the Leicester Alliance, to my memory, exclusively use “Kingdom” and “Alliance” in sentences where the possessive is necessary. (i.e. Fhirdiad, the Kingdom capital)

Now, let’s try to make some proper adjectives for both Faerghus and Leicester, as well as Brigid, Albinea, Morfis, Sreng, and Fódlan.

Note: If any of those locations have canon adjectives/nouns, please let me know! Also if I’m missing any locations.

(I know small-scale locations like cities/territories within each state also don’t have adjectives, but no one canonically seems to be very patriotic on that scale and identify with the broader term instead, so I’m not concerned with those. Feel free to add them if you want, though!)

The only super obvious one is Albinea : Albinean, and I’m pretty confident that no one will contest that even without diving in to real-world examples to compare what form the adjective should take.

From there, we’ll start with the most relevant and go outwards. Starting with Fódlan.

Note: I’m using this resource for the right adjectives/nouns for nationalities, so if I make a sweeping statement like “no country” or something of the like, what I’m referring to is specifically what is contained within that list.

Fódlan:

In-game, Dedue actually says, “...because I was unfamiliar with Fódlan speech.” Which surprisingly doesn’t tell us the name of Fódlan’s language, but rather says that “Fódlan” is the (or a) canon adjective.

That gives us Fódlan : Fódlan : ??? (Fódlan? In the same form as Duscur, perhaps.)

That said, I just... don’t really prefer it. So I’m looking for alternatives. My preferred form? Iceland. Iceland : Icelandic : Icelander, giving us Fódlan : Fódlandic : Fódlander. Now, Fódlan obviously doesn’t end with a “-d” but also, while many countries/regions end with “-an” none end with “-lan” and I, personally, just like the sound of Fódlander, even as the adjective. In fact, within my own in-progress fic right now, I currently have it as simply Fódlan : Fódlander, with no difference between the adj. and noun.

Looking at examples with “-an” endings to their region, we have Iran : Iranian, Japan : Japanese, or Pakistan : Pakistani to give us either Fódlanian, Fódlanese, or Fódlani. I’ve seen the latter two in fics before, but of the set prefer Fódlani myself.

And just for fun, most “-land” regions actually don’t use the “-lander” ending. Iceland is special that way, presumably because they didn’t want to call themselves Ices. Instead, it’s in the form of Poland : Polish : Pole, which, if we apply to Fódlan, would give us Fódlan : Fódlish : Fód which I would never dream of actually using, but does make me laugh.

Conclusion: This section is just my personal best options, in no particular order, laid out in a less cluttered format.

Fódlan : Fódlani Fódlan : Fódlandic : Fódlander Fódlan : Fódlander (No real-world basis, I just like it this way.)

Faerghus:

To my knowledge, the only countries that end in “-s” at all are Belarus and Honduras, so let’s just use those, and throw in Paris for fun. This will be shorter because we just don’t have much to work with, and I think the “best” form is a lot easier to agree on, anyway.

So, first option, Belarus : Belarusian which gives us Faerghus : Farghusian. Which works. There’s nothing wrong with it. But I’m not a big fan just because I prefer the next option so much more.

Interestingly, this is one I’ve seen in fanfic before, so it’s something currently in use by the community, at least to some extent. That is, Honduras : Honduran giving us Faerghus : Faerghan. Something about Faerghan just sounds right to my (American) ear, and again, I’ve seen it used in fanfic before. Honestly, it sounds so right that I’m not entirely convinced it’s not actual canon, but I also can’t recall it actually being used in canon, so... eh.

Conclusion: Just use Faerghus : Faerghan, it’s not that hard a conclusion to reach tbh. Unless you just like something else, I guess.

Leicester:

This is a problem for the simple fact that while there is an actual county in Britain called Leicestershire (and one called Gloucestershire), unless the British are a lot different from us Americans and they aren’t putting this information online, no one actually identifies anything by county.

Combined with the fact that the only countries that end in “-r” are Equador, El Salvador, and Madagascar, and I’m pretty sure any accurate comparison would need at least the “-ter” ending, this is going to be mostly just making up what feels right to me.

But for science, let’s go ahead and use those three for their conventions anyway, shall we?

Equador : Equadorian would give us Leicester : Leicesterian. Then we have El Salvador : Salvadoran to give us the slightly sillier Leicesteran. (I cannot not hear Listerine, lol.)

Alternatively, and this is a bold move, we could use Madagascar : Madagasy, which I frankly do not even know how to translate to Leicester because that form just doesn’t work with anything lacking the “-scar” ending, and I’m trying to compare them based on the “-r” alone. Still, I suppose with some finagling we can come to Leicester : Leicesy, or somewhat more sensibly Leicesty which is... surprisingly not horrible, but a zesty choice nonetheless.

On a more serious note, I’ve been using Leicester : Leicester : Leicesterman/woman because it’s just about the only thing I’ve thought of that doesn’t sound remarkably silly.

Conclusion: Use Leicester : Leicester : Leicesterman/woman.

(Or, if you want to meme the Golden Deer, Leicester : Leicesty. I am not recommending this.)

Brigid:

Ah, the reason I’m doing this work in the first place. I really should have done this before the Brigid arc in my fic but alas, here we are, doing this while I’m literally on the last chapter of it.

Anyway, since this list I have of real-world nationalities only has a single country ending in “-d” that doesn’t end in “-land” we’re going to just have to work with what we have.

The one example I have to work with? Chad. That gives us Chad : Chadian applied to Brigid is Brigid : Brigidian.

Which feels like something I’ve seen in fic before, but I can’t say with certainty. Now that I’m looking at that in the face, though, I want to posit for review the alternative Brigid : Brigidan, mostly just because that “-idi-” feels weird to me.

(Now I feel kind of silly. It’s really quite simple, isn’t it? I spent so long trying to figure this one out, positive that I’d find a better option, but... nah. Brigidan works, I think. Ironically, when I was looking through earlier chapters in my draft, I noticed that I had actually already used Brigidan in my story, despite me going so far out of my way to avoid using an adjective at all in my Brigid arc because I straight up forgot. F me, I guess.)

Conclusion: Use Brigid : Brigidan or Brigid : Brigidian, depending on your feelings about the letter I.

Sreng:

Another odd one, because there’s no good comparison, even in the vaguest sense. So, instead of doing comparisons to real places this time, I’m just going to throw a few of the common endings at it and see what sticks.

Sreng : Srengan/Srengian - Gives me fantasy name vibes, which I guess it is, but not location name vibes, and certainly not location adjective vibes, if that makes any sort of sense.

Sreng : Srengish : Sren??? - This is clearly reaching. And no, I will not even entertain Sren(g)man/woman.

Sreng : Srengi - I feel like I’ve seen this in fic before but cannot say for sure. Point being, though, it feels like something that reasonable people would say with their mouths, so it gets a full 5 stars from me.

Conclusion: Sreng : Srengi is the only viable option. Fight me.

Morfis:

Because Morfis doesn’t appear in my own fic, I have given this zero thought ahead of time. Also, I was 100% convinced - like, turned on my Switch and checked the actual game to be sure - that Morfis was spelled Morphis. Nope, it’s an f. Anyway, let’s gooo!

I guess the logical starting point would be the same place we went with Faerghus, with either Morfis : Morfisian or Morfis : Morfan but unlike Faerghus, Morfis actually already has that “I” there, so I think the alternative Morfian sounds a bit better.

Plus, Professor Byleth has already fished up half the pond’s population. We don’t need more fin.

Conclusion: Fish are friends. Morfis : Morfian

#speak #fire emblem #Fire Emblem Three Houses #i spent absolutely way too long on this but you know what?#IT HELPED #lets make a whole other post about language next time eh?#no?#oh fine i'll spare y'all that I GUESS

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moonlightskids · 5 years

Text

sunset kisses

fluff

minho watches you walk out of the school entrance, you’re wearing your uniform, a cute bow on your head and a sweet smile as you spot him leaning against his motorcycle. he’s there to pick you up as always, in his tight clear jeans, white shirt and black leather jacket, completing the troublemaker look with some bruises on his face.

you walk to him excitedly, throwing your hands over his shoulders as soon as you can reach him, minho catches you by the waist, putting a sweet peck on your lips, pulling away, you can see the glint of happiness on his eyes, he’s not usually this expresive, but being around you always turns him into a pile of love, specially when you look this cute, always happy to see him, you most be the only person that knows him that actually feels positively about being around him.

letting you go, minho places you on the ground, passing you your designated helmet and indicating you to get on the motorcycle after him. your arms hold tightly around his thin waist under the wasted jacket, he smells like fresh shaved and cinnamon, and maybe a hint of a long smoked cigarette.

“where are we going?”, your voice sounds soft compared to the loud mess of students getting out of class.

“it’s a surprise”, he replies after turning around and giving you a teasing smile. nodding, you let the topic go and bury your face on his back, ready for the ride to wherever minho wants to take you. you trust him and wouldn’t mind going to the end of the world if it’s with him.

minho starts the motorcycle, the ride it’s calm, the sun has started to set and if you look over his shoulder you can see the changing orange colors on the sky, the wind is turning cold but it’s not unbearable. you listen to minho’s heartbeat as the houses and stores pass by like flash, soon you’re near the docks and the air smells like salt. he stops near the beach, you can see the sea and hear the waves crushing against the big rocks of the shore. it’s a place where no one can go in due to the force of the stream so there’s no one around.

climbing down the motorcycle, you take off the helmet that minho places on the handle along with his. you look at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. with a sweet smile, he brushes the hair out of your face, his calloused fingers feel soft against your skin when he cups your cheeks.

“i love you”, his words sound serious and honest, really different from his usual mischievous tone, “you mean the world to me and i feel so unworthy of you and your sincere feelings, but i’ll try, always, to do my best just for you”

your smile is so big when he stops speaking it almost hurts your cheeks and with your free hands you cup his face too, “i love you too, minho, and you being you is worthy enough of everything good on this world”, you try to sound as stable as you can, but sometimes is hard to hear the person you love talk so self deprecating. getting on your tip toes you place a caste kiss on his mouth.

without saying anything else, he puts you on top of the motorcycle, placing himself between your legs, one hand on your hair and one on your hip as he kisses you deeply, one of those kisses that leave you breathless. his lips threaten to devour yours and when he traces your bottom one with his tongue you totally melt on his touch. giving him acces, his tongue is on yours chasing it around. minho catches your lip with his teeth, pulling at it slightly making you whimper at the unusual sensation and he pulls away from you.

looking at him with his eyes still closed, you trace his beautiful face with your fingers, his forehead, his cheekbones, his perfiled nose and perfect lips. when you’re going to kiss him again, the wind blows particularly hard and cold, making you shiver in his arms, stepping aside, minho takes off his leather jacket and places it on your shoulders. the sun is long gone and you can see the stars since you’re away from the city lights.

“let’s take you home”, his words are serious, but you can hear the mocking tone on his voice when he speaks again, “i don’t want your parents to hate me even more”

you chuckle at his choice of words, but reprend him nonetheless, “they don’t hate you, minho”

“no”, he says putting your helmet on for you, “they just wish i was dead”, you hit him on the arm earning a loud laugh from him, he places one last kiss on your nose before climbing back on the motorcycle cycle with you and starting the ride back home.

m.list

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here’s a little something for minho’s birthday!! cause our lead dancer deserves ALL the love in the world, also this is kind of a bad boy au but what do i know

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himjopper · 4 years

Text

the flea & the acrobat (jim hopper fic)

pairing: hopper x reader, stranger things chapter: 2/? chapter rating: teen, 18+ (mention of violence, fear, mild swearing, mention of sexual intentions) summary: you’re an FBI agent from the behavioral analysis unit, living in the big city and enjoying the hustle and bustle of the 80’s crime scene. you’ve worked your ass off to get respect around a male dominated field, earning yourself a promotion as the head of your department after you helped solve a missing persons case that swept the nation just short of a year ago. the case closed, but something happening in a small town in Hawkins, Indiana is making your bones chill with its similarities to your closed case. a young girl, barbara holland, is missing and you’ve got a hunch on how to bring her home. little do you know, Hawkins isn’t exactly textbook and you need the locals’s help. a/n: oh my goodness, I finally got a chapter 2 out and we’re getting to meet Hop. I know I only hinted at it in chapter 1, but I didn’t want to rush it! trying to build some tension before we head down the road of uh cough tension ;-) anyway! please enjoy and send me ideas or thoughts! also let me know if you’d like to be tagged! <3 gif credit & tagged: @chiefharbour

Indiana.

The air was drier than Seattle’s, certainly promising that you weren’t going to be rained on all morning. Your plane touched down in Indianapolis and the drive between the city to this nowhere town was vast. You saw less and less as the miles continued. However, there were definitely more corn fields. Your mind immediately jumped to the possibility Barbara Holland was tortured and thrown in one of those fields. Surrounded by husks, glasses broken, windpipe probably shattered, blunt force trauma to the back of the head and if this really is an admirer of Schwartzmen, they would have removed all her teeth and fingertips to try to keep her from being identified. That’s how the original killer stayed under the radar for so long and how this case earned the name Snake Hole. It felt like every time you had a lead on Schwartzmen and you were on his heel, another murdered redhead would pop up on nearly the other side of Alabama. Every time you had him, he’d disappear before he would strike, just like a snake you didn’t see on a path. He’d keep his victims for a period of two to three days of grooming before the torture, making them feel guilty for abandoning him as a baby as if he was their son, anything to get them to confess before he’d forgive them and eventually “save” them from their sins. He was fast, manipulative, cunning, and obsessive. You had every hope whoever had Barbara Holland was anything but.

· · ──── ·𖥸· ──── · ·

Pulling up to the Hawkins’s Police Department left you a bit nervous and you weren’t entirely sure why. You’ve done plenty of solo investigating in your career and if anything, you’re a better agent when you work alone, but the idea of speaking with people from a close knit small town has its up and downs. On one hand, they’re eager to get their local to return home safely. On the other, they have no idea what the FBI should be doing in their town, they think their local PD is more than capable, and they don’t trust the FBI with their personal information because there’s a conspiracy that you’re the government and you’re going to sample their DNA for cloning to breed with aliens in Area 51.

You take a deep breath as you kill the ignition in the rental and check your appearance in the rear view mirror.

Be positive. This could go over smoothly and quickly if you are confident and strong. God, listen to yourself. What a load of shit.

Eventually you’re greeted by a front desk and you’re already noticing the difference in volume this office was compared to yours back home in Seattle. The fax machine was quiet. The conversations were low. There was very subtle sounds of keyboards clicking. Somewhere there’s a radio, still quiet but humming today’s popular hits. Even your heels seemed too loud.

“Good morning,” you began as you made eye contact with the older woman at the desk. Had to have been in her early sixties, been here since her thirties. Her nails were painted a fuchsia color, not a nail chipped, and her fingers decorated with jewelry including an older wedding ring. She seemed sweet, maternal, maybe a bit stern. Behind her thick rimmed glasses, her eyes looked up at you and she adjusted the frames to get a better look at your face before you spoke again.

“I’m special agent Scotch with the FBI, I spoke briefly with a Florence over the phone?”

Suddenly her hands fly up in excitement as she exclaims, “Oh! Yes!”

She stands up from her office chair to hold your hand over the counter, not even much of a shake but just a gentle grasp and supportive squeeze that took you off guard at first, but actually relieved a lot of your stress.

“It is so nice to meet you, I’m Florence, but please address me as Flo; my mother was Florence. I can’t tell you how much we appreciate you coming down here from your big city crimes to want to help us down here!” Your lips parted to speak, but she was already guiding you to the other side of her desk and towards a table decorated with various breakfast pastries and the smell of caffeine comforted you instantly. “Come, come, let’s get you a coffee and you tell me about your flight, is it a long trip from Washington? I don’t travel much, they’ve had me glued to this desk for nearly half my life now,” she trails off with a laugh to herself.

You make small talk over semi-stale croissants with jam and burnt coffee, but you’re grateful for her hospitality nonetheless. You notice there’s a couple other desks covered with stacks of paper thrown around haphazardly. The lack of organization and order was clear here. Your hear some men’s voices down the hall towards more office space.

“Flo, thank you for your kindness,” you start. “I just have a couple of questions, if that’s okay? Who was in charge here for the case on Barbara Holland’s disappearance?”

Immediately, she puts her paper plate down on the table you’ve been conversing next to and she sprinkles the crumbs off her fingertips onto the plate. She sighs, but it’s not out of frustration or exhaustion per say. Sympathy, maybe? “That’d be our chief of police here, Jim Hopper. It’s been a wild ride, I’ll tell you what. Seems like a bit of a dead end for our chief, but he’s a stubborn man, ehm ....?” she looks at you then, realizing she doesn’t know how to address you properly. Something about your last name and “agent” didn’t seem friendly enough for Flo, you’re inclined to introduce yourself again with your first name to which she then adds to her statement.

You squint in suspicion. “Stubborn?”

Flo nods feverishly with a comedic roll of her eyes. “Beyond belief,” she exasperates, “he has a hard time letting anything go or run its course. It’s difficult to see him at such a loss with Miss Holland’s disappearance. He’s been at that like a dog tied to a tree, I’ll tell you.“

Interesting.

By nature, you want to trust Flo’s judgement. However, the files she had faxed to you to read over with Hayes last week weren’t matching up with her words. The lack of information for Barbara’s disappearance made you believe this was a chief of police in charge who either got promoted too early and wasn’t sure how to investigate properly or he was a lazy cop who figured a sixteen year old girl ran away from her wholesome and structured square lifestyle to indulge in some teenage rebellion. Was it genuine carelessness or just sloppy law enforcement? There seemed to be nothing to really work with from Hawkins PD.

Your lips relieve themselves from the hard line you had pressed them together in, you make a hum sound of understanding.

“I see. Is your chief of police, Jim Hopper, available to speak to? I think he’d have more answers for me regarding this case.”

She shakes her head then and explains she hasn’t seen him since last night, your eyes catching the ticking clock above to see it was already a quarter passed ten. Incompetent as predicted, you think to yourself. “Ms. Flo,” your attempt at keeping your voice soft and patient was partially failing due to the frustration you were feeling in your chest. “I don’t mean to rush you or your team, however, this is a time sensitive case. Where is your chief of police?”

As if on cue, there’s a loud chime of the front doors opening and two men’s voices bellowing over each other in a heated discussion.

“For the last time, Mr. Larson, I don’t know where your damn gnomes are this time—“

“I think you do, chief, you’re just too lazy to do something about it—!”

There’s a louder roar from the first man’s voice, “Alright, alright! Enough!”

Flo excuses herself to see the problem, you assume. There’s some quieter bickering between the three of them now before the chime of the front door is heard again and one of the men comes into view first. He’s taller than you expected, clad in khakis and a pack of cigarettes is peeking from his pocket. Based off the scruff, off balance posture, and cold demeanor, you were left to assume this was the infamous chief.

Your breath catches in your throat when he catches your eye contact for the first time. You didn’t expect his eyes to be that blue, either.

“Who’re you.”

His voice is so gruff and flat, he doesn’t even ask it like a question. His brow is knitted together as he stares at you, you notice his eyes scan you up and down a few times.

Before you can speak, Flo rushes passed him and stands in front of you.

“Hopper, this is federal agent Scotch, she’s with the FBI-“ His hand flies up to stop her excitement and he has a clear look of distaste before he starts storming to his office with a string of grumbling, “No, no, no FBI, I don’t care where she’s from, I’ll be in my office, just show her out...”

This is where you lose your patience. “Excuse me, Chief.”

Hopper turns half way to look at you again, brows raised and obviously not expecting much from you. However, you’re unfortunately used to being patronized, especially in this field of work.

“My name is special agent Scotch, I’m with the behavioral analysis unit in the FBI located in Seattle. I really don’t care if you don’t want to talk with me, but I’ll have to rule you as a suspect if you keep me from information regarding the missing case of Barbara Holland, especially because you already fit our rough profile of an unsub from the matching murder cases from a year ago we believe is being mirrored here in Hawkins. Now, it’s just me and not the rest of my team, but I wouldn’t hesitate to make the call and have you arrested myself since you’re not in the position to refuse me, do I make myself clear?”

Flo’s widened eyes move from watching you to the chief. He looks skeptical and almost lets out a laugh with an unlit cigarette now dangling between his lips, “You think I took the missing kid?”

Your facial expression, however, doesn’t falter. You held his eye contact as he raised his lighter to his mouth.

“I said, do I make myself clear?” You repeat.

There’s a few small puffs of smoke while he continues to hold your gaze. There’s a different light in his eyes, the blue much darker than before. “Crystal,” he mutters.

As subtly as possible you exhale the breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. He draws in another drag before tilting his head towards a hall, motioning you to join.

“We’ll discuss this in my office. I don’t need the town gossiping about why there’s a goddamn FBI agent in my town.” With a turn on his heel, he doesn’t wait for you as he’s already halfway down the hall. You watch the muscles on his back and shoulders as he walks off.

Flo’s sudden grip on your wrist makes you flinch. Her smile is soft though and she gives you a reassuring squeeze. You return her smile for a moment before your heels match the rhythmic stomping of Hopper’s much heavier boots as you both entered his office. For a brief second, he was behind you and you could feel how much he really towered over you, it felt like nearly half your size. You could smell the cigarette smoke mixed with his aftershave and you became suddenly aware of how loud your heartbeat was. The slam of his office door that he kicked close woke you up from your senses quickly. Hopper went behind his desk, nudging several files and papers to the sides before he sat in front of you now, leaned back in the creaking chair and cigarette between his lips.

“You wanted to talk?”

You say nothing as he ashes his cigarette in the dish in front of you.

“Let’s talk.”

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