#also loving this little pendant moment people should buy me more necklaces | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

akvtsuki-ari · 4 years

Text

Around Your Neck

Warning: smut, unprotected sex/creampie, post!prison reid, fingering, oral both recieving, throatfucking, slapping, bruises idk??

Length: 4.8k

Authors note: you know that tiktok audio that goes “whats wrong with you?,” over and over again. thats how writing this fic made me feel. based loosely after a conversation me and my wife @pastanest had sdkjhjkef and that gifset of spencer with that gold chain on that has me so tight. so disrespectful...

Edit: heres the gifset!!!

Plot Summary: Prison changed Spencer. That damn chain around his neck made sure you remembered.

Spencer Reid was… different after prison. It was something about him when he left, like a part of him was always far away somewhere when you spoke to him. He was fractured it seemed like - even though he was saving lives everyday there always seemed to be something on his mind. He was still Spencer of course, still sweet-talking and soothing when he needed to be. He never lost that odd charm about him and after those first few months he grew back to be more comfortable in his own skin but there was just something there. Something on the back of his mind that he seemed to be handling alone.

You’d been with Spencer for a while before he went to jail, a few years and other traumatic events later - you had an idea of how Spencer dealt with pain and difficulty. He liked to let things sit and stir inside of him for a long time before he lets it show - then he gets snappy and mean for a bit after that till he sorta just breaks. In many ways, when something bad happened to Spencer you sorta just knew what things would be like for a bit, but no matter how many times he slipped you caught him. When he got shot and nearly died twice, you were there right next to him - making sure that he was going to be okay. That's just what you did, to say you were Spencers ride-or-die would be an understatement. You gave him whatever he needed, whether that be some tough love or being pampered for a few days straight.

Spencer knew that about you, and even before prison he had this affinity for you that always made sure you knew how much he adored you. He wanted you to know that he only ever had eyes for you and that he was beyond grateful for how patient you seemed and how loving you were to him. Spencer made sure he never stopped chasing you before he went to prsion. He bought you flowers, supported you when you switched careers, and generally made sure he returned the favor in loving you but he was always chasing you still. Part of it was out of disbelief that someone could love him like that, but the other part was out of insecurity. You always told him you were always his, but he never seemed to believe you.

Prison changed a lot of things for Spencer, but that thing about him chasing you was what changed most. Spencer was always possessive in his own right, but he wasn’t jealous necessarily. He just wanted to make sure you were okay and that no one was fucking with you or bothering you. It didn’t bother him before if you talked and flirted with Luke, or if some guy was hitting on you because you were normally so adamantly rejecting it. He wasn’t someone who was particularly upset about not having claimed you as his - before he didn’t really care.

For the longest time you didn’t really notice just how much Spencer had actually changed how he acted towards you - mostly because he was still really sweet to you. It wasn’t like he was treating you any worse, or necessarily any better. It was honest to God, just different, more.. something. You don’t wanna use the word aggressive because Spencer isn’t the aggressive type. Spencer was calculated, and he could be angry sometimes but not often. He didn’t have a shorter fuse - hell, you could argue that prison made him more patient since he was often just lying in wait.

The best way to describe it is probably just more confident, really. He was assertive about you being his and his tolerance for crude jokes that came your way was a lot lower. Most of the time, at least before, he’d let shit slide if it was too small. Nowadays though, if he even catches something bothering you he steps in - always finding the small of your back and pulling you closer to him like he was keeping you close to protect you. He doesn’t curse them out or get angry, just stares at them with a blank expression that's arguably more intimidating.

You were a flirt by nature, too. You were never trying to flirt with people, but you’re one for flattery and compliments so it sure can be read that way. You loved receiving the same energy so when you did your jokes and compliments would increase ten-fold. It doesn’t bother Spencer because he knows you’re just being silly but before, he didn’t mind if the other person was serious because he knew that you’d never continue like that. Now though, when someones dropping any lines your way he’ll tell them to leave you alone no question, unconcerned about any consequence or even if that person could beat Spencer's ass. Spencer wasn’t concerned about strength like he used to be - and when you asked him about why that was he simply shrugs.

“I’ll play dirty if it gets there,”

Those were all small details but there were so many of them that it was starting to pile up and draw you to interesting conclusions. Sex was also a clear example of change. The first time the two of you had sex when he came back from prison was relatively the same, but you could tell he was holding something back. For the longest time, you didn’t really know what until it was the heat of the moment and Spencer wrapped his hands around your throat and ask if he could choke you - something that you’d ask for previously that he was rather unsure about doing. It was the way Spencer's eyes looked into your eyes when he did it, the way his fingers curled almost carelessly around your delicate neck - so instinctively as if the whole endeavor was so natural. When he lets you go and kisses you - you’re more than into it but you can’t help but wonder where his desire came from. You didn’t really mind how Spencer got when he was like that but damn, you couldn’t say you saw it coming.

The more you thought about it, the more it became clear to you that Spencer has changed a whole lot more than you understood initially, but maybe the last straw was when you made a sorta silly joke about the necklace worn around his neck after prison. It was a thin gold chain, for the most part tucked underneath his clothes when he went to work. He said in many cultures gold is a symbol for blessing and spirituality and he wanted to keep that with him, and that a lot of other people in prison wore gold chains. You made some stupid joke that if he were gonna wear it all the time - he should at least have your name around his neck. You knew stuff like that wasn’t really Spencer thing so when you’d said it, even though it was pretty hot, you were mostly just joking.

It’d been a few weeks since then. Spencer had a case that needed his attention and you were at the bullpen with Penelope waiting for everyone's arrival. You were nearly bursting from anticipation, a busy case that made you particularly clingy and had you missing Spencer more than you can explain. There everyone was, walking through the doors when Spencer walks through and wraps you up in his arms. Spencer picks you up and spins you around for a few seconds before giving you a small smile. You just hug him again, noticing the cool metal on your skin when you do. You pull back before Spencer speaks and look down - his chains never had a pendant before

There it was. Your name, hangin around his neck like it was nothing. Spencer was sporting it with a more casual version of what he normally wears, which was basically just no tie. A white shirt and blazer, and your name around his neck. You try your very best to ignore the heartbeat in your jeans while your fingers went up carefully to touch it. Spencer gives a coy smile, watching the way your eyes look at it so hazy. Just like he wanted. He places his hand on top of yours, seeing your pretty eyes flick up to meet his. You can barely contain yourself - the chain around his neck always brought you to some interesting places but to see your name - your fucking name, around his neck so casually brought you somewhere rather interesting.

“Um - nice necklace,” you squeak out. Spencer laughs brightly, his arms circling around your waist as you bury your face in his chest instinctively . You can feel the way his laugh reverberates and you just whine in annoyance.

“I’m glad you liked it, might be a little awkward otherwise,” Spencer jokes. It was your turn to giggle, Spencer left terribly endeared by the sound.

“You ready to head home, doctor?,” you say softly. Spencer nods, taking your hand as you lead the way and feeling his heart burst out of his chest, grateful to have you on him always.

You guess that Spencer buying your name as a pendant on his chain was really what set you off in realizing just how possessive he was. He didn’t take it off around the house, walking around your shared apartment shirtless with it on at all times. He’d play with it constantly, fingers brushing the smooth metal while he was doing something a little mindless or that required his focused attention. It was driving you nuts, the image of Spencers chain hanging in your face was already one you returned to a lot but - now that your name was there it made the stakes of such a situation so much higher.

Spencers just sitting and reading the paper when you finally are fed up. He always liked reading the actual newspaper, claims there's nothing quite as good but you’re tired of… well, you’re not sure what you were tired of but you knew you needed his attention asap before you lost your marbles for good. You walk over to him, moving the newspaper carefully out of his hands and folding it before sitting across his lap and crossing your arms. Spencer laughs loudly, especially as you take his arms and wrap them around your waist. Spencer just gives you a quirked eyebrow, a questioning look. You shake your head, because you’re honestly kind of unsure for what you’re asking for - you just wanted something. Dick, maybe.

You give Spencer a look as you take his chain around your fingers again and play with it’s pendant. He already knows why you’re here, but he decides to let you figure it out. He knew before that you were the submissive type, but his response to that changed in prison. He carried that picture of you with him everyday, looked at it for hours sometimes so he could sleep - and it pissed him off when people would see it and talk about you. Spencer missed a lot of things outside of jail but you were number one - your love and affection of course, but there were other things too. Prison made Spencer particular about his possessions, that picture of you was one of the few things that was his and his alone. He didn’t let anyone go as far as touch that picture, so when he saw you again that possession just carried over. He didn’t really care, especially since it didn’t seem to bother you. Prison made Spencer realize how much he really cared for his possessions, books, chess boards, you - all things he already cared about but became a lot more particular after the fact.

Spencer just knows. When you sit on his lap, all he can picture is him out in the yard but instead of isolated and paranoid, he’s with you by his side giving him all the restraint in the world. He’d be damned if he let anyone take that from him. You give Spencer a look he can’t explain, there's a certain innocence written on your face that makes Spencer's chest hot. His hand sits between your bare thigh as you sit on his lap, and the second you look down on it, you seem to get the clue. Spencer grips your thigh, eyes following the way yours move to try and make sense of what's happening. Your eyes are fluttery, as your head twists to meet Spencers, the two of you nose to nose. Spencer just gives you a smile, before looking down at your lips then right back up to you. You blush.

“You’re close,” you say, not knowing what else to do. Spencer chuckles.

“Would you like me to move?,” Spencer asks politely. You shake your head.

“No,” you say stubbornly. Spencer licks his lips for a second before smiling again.

“Okay. Then, what would you like me to do?,” Spencer says, holding back a laugh. Your eyes fixate on his lips when he talks, and you scrunch your face up.

“Kiss me,” you mumble. Spencer grins ear to ear.

“Say please,” Spencer replies, leaning in as his lips brush onto yours. He pulls away before you can kiss and you sigh.

“Please,” you manage out meekly.

Spencer pushes air out of his nose before he does just that. His lips are smooth, stubble touching your smooth skin as your hand moves to one side of his face. Spencer smiles into the kiss, feeling the way you melt into him. The moments before things get heated is fast, Spencer's hands underneath your shirt as his tongue slides between your lips. He kisses you slowly, patiently but that’s not quite what you want. You give him a whine, but he shows the same attitude. You keep kissing like that for a while, moving yourself to straddling Spencer's lap before using your teeth to lightly tug on Spencer's bottom lip. He gives you a small groan and you return it with a noise of approval. Spencer pulls back to look at you, his eyes telling you to be careful but his body language betraying him. You can feel the tent in Spencer pants as you weigh yourself down on his lap.

“Don’t hold back,” you ask, hoping it’s the right thing. Spencer gives you a weary look.

“Are you sure?'' Spencer asks. You nod, eyes looking into his.

“Red for stop, yellow for slow down, and green for go,” you say repeating your safewords to him. Spencer gives you a kiss on the forehead, both for remembering your safeword but as an assurance. He’d never really been rough with you - he was a soft dom at heart and wouldn’t go as far as hurting you. You just give him a pleading look - you wanted him to be rough with you, bruise and mark you, just for a little while. The idea made your skin flush, but who was Spencer to deny you of such a request. Spencer nods softly, leading you to the bedroom.

Spencers the first to close the door, pushing you up against as he lifts one of your legs up and kisses you slowly - fingers pressing into your thighs as Spencers tongue toys with yours. He always kisses you like that, slowly but surely introducing as much of himself to you as possible - his erections pressed against you when he does. The sound that leaves your mouth is a cross between a whimper and a moan - a broken sound that makes Spencer a little more eager. He smiles when you make, giving you a look of surprise but you don’t have anything to say. Spencer smiles down at you.

“Go lay down for me,” Spencer requests. You just nod as you get comfortable on the bed - watching Spencer take off his grey sweatpants and boxers, the chain still around his neck. Your eyes follow his figure, landing on his erection before widening. Spencer just chuckles at you - signalling for you to take your shirt off which you do with no question. You watch his eyes as the rack themselves over your figure, panties forbidding the rest of you from being on display. Spencer walks towards the bed, pulling your legs over the edge as he kneels between them. You yelp at the sudden move, but quickly settle up again.

One thing is for certain, Spencer always wants to make you feel good first. It didn’t really matter what headspace he was in - whether or not he was super dominant like he was today or if he was super submissive like he was when he was stressed. His touch is careful, your legs over his shoulders pull him closer instinctively but he doesn’t seem to mind. He merely pushes your panties to the side before he eats you out, kissing your clit to be gentlemanly. His tongue is careful at first, experimental lickes before he lays his tongue flat - with a soft rhythm, slowly increasing his pace to your pleasure. He gets you close like that, pausing for a few seconds on moving before sucking softly on you, making you twitch your legs. Spencers careful about this part, his speed only testament to how much he can push you, the knot in your stomach carefully being undone as Spencer continues.

“Can I cum, please?,” your voice scrapes the surface as you ask. Spencer is busied with his mouth but he hums - feeling you unravel as your orgasm hits you with astonishing impact. Spencer feels the way you pulsate on his tongue, humming again so you feel that little vibration that sends your hands in Spencer's hair to pull you off. You’re trying to catch your breath as you finish, Spencer still adamantly eating you - making your body shiver with pleasure. He holds your hips down for a few minutes like that. You don’t really want to argue with him but you’re unsure how much you can handle as he makes you cum for the second time, a small wave of pleasure brushing against your spine as cum for the second time. When Spencer pulls away from you, orgasm covers his lips and manages to get onto his stubble. He gives you a light smile as he leans up to kiss you, hands holding your thighs as he does. You can taste yourself on his tongue.

“Do you think you can handle letting me fuck your throat?,Spencer asks. You give him a look of surprise, trying to remember if you still had any cough drops before nodding - more than eager to let him do that if that's what he wanted to do. You just nod, ready to get on your knees before Spencer stops you in your tracks.

“I wanted to do it while you were laying down, you know,” Spencer says, voice unsure. You’re surprised but you just shrug, laying down, your head back on the edge of the bed. It weird to see everything upside down like this, so you just shut your eyes and open your mouth up. Spencers cock twitches at the site of you laid back for him like this, pushing past your lips a lips a bit, feeling your tongue along his tip. You pat Spencers leg, letting him know you were comfortable to let him go further, feeling his length push past your throat. You let your throat relax, gripping your thumb as Spencer buries himself nearly fully in you. His fingers find the column of your neck, brushing the bulge in your throat which makes it hard for him to contain himself. Spencers fucks your throat slowly, carefully not to push you too hard even though you were more than ready for it. You steadied yourself, the other hand in your underwear rubbing your clit to the feeling Spencer fucking you like this.

“You’re so pretty with me down your throat like this,” Spencer comments. You moan around his length, letting him know he’s free to continue.

“Prison made me think of all the things I could be doing to you, fucking you like you were the only thing I thought about all day. Maybe because you were,” Spencer laughs when he speaks, his hands reaching down to toy with your nipples, his fingers carefully twisting them, relishing the way you writhe under his touch. You tighten your throat around Spencers length causing him to jerk into your throat - sorta how you planned for this to go anyway. Spencers expression changes as he watches you take all of him in, his hand lightly around your neck, maybe too turned on by how the air leaves your lungs. When you pull out, spit covers your face and chin - but you just give Spencer a thumbs up and a smile, not phased at all. Spencer didn’t think he could be anymore in love with a person, yet here he was.

Spencer helps you sit back up, sitting for a few moments to readjust to the world around you. Spencer cups your jaw, pulling your face to look at him - giving you the most adoring eyes like you didn’t just take his dick all the way down your throat, well that may be the reason why. Spencer leans down to kiss your forehead, hands around the base of your neck as he does.

“Good girl,” Spencers use of that phrase is spare, only using it when he really meant it. It fills you with a certain intensity you weren’t expecting, your throat already a little sore from the endeavor. You give Spencer a small hum of approval.

“Thank you, Sir,” The honorific makes Spencer's heart ache. Spencer was a soft dom, which mostly meant that in bed you called him by his name. Sir was a sometimes thing, like when he got rough on the occasion. Sir was earned, just liked good girl was.

“Get on your hands and knees for me, pretty girl,” Spencer asks. You do as you're told, arching your back completely for Spencer without questions. Spencer admires you, running your hands over the curves of your body, admiring the little wet spot that forms on your slit for him, cum running down your legs. Spencer wanted to fuck the shit out of you, wanted to see his cum spill out of you - as filthy as the thought was. You’d always talked about letting him go raw but Spencer was normally too cautious. You getting pregnant was much less of a consequence these days, like if anyone were to carry his baby into the world it’d be you and no one else.

If anyone got to fuck you like that, it needed to be him and no one else. That was one thing Spencer knew was so different. Spencer needed to fuck you like that, raw and shameless just like only he could. Spencers fingers are too curious for his own good, one hand around your waist to play with your clit, and the other posing two fingers inside of you - brushing up against your gspot with ease. You shudder under Spencers touch, getting fingered from the back like this wasn’t what you were expecting but you weren’t upset about it. Spencers voice is warm in your ear.

“You’re gonna have to cum one more time before I even think about fucking you,” Spencer warns. You just nod, chewing your lip as Spencer pads his fingers along you, curling them up for you to feel. He stretches you out comfortably like that, and you’re unable to really think clearly. His mouth works on your neck, biting hickies onto your throat as he does. The bruises are red and pulsating, the dark marks only bound to get darker and more visible as the days pass. Not that Spencer minded, though you did. It was a worry for later though, of course. You cum around Spencer's fingers again, unable to comprehend the level of exhaustion that seemed to come over. Still, you’d be damned if Spencer didn’t fuck you senseless. You tighten around Spencers fingers.

“Spencer, fuck - please, please,” the begging has no particulars. It’s never for anything, instead a mindless response to Spencer and his ability to turn you on this much, to the point it was all you thought about. You were exhausted but all you wanted was for him to cum inside you and make you feel so pliable. You always were, for him anyways.

“Sir - fuck me raw, please,” that last plea was a demand. Spencer groaned into your neck, nodding lightly, no response to your request. His fingers burned bruises into your waist, gripping on to you like he was gonna lose you if he didn’t. That feeling comes at you so quickly you can barely make sense of it, Spencers hands rhythmic in their ability as you convulse, cumming around Spencers calloused fingers and feeling every inch of them in you. You whine in disappointment when he pulls out. He just chuckles, taking his fingers and slipping them between your lips and down the back of your throat. You don’t choke, unsurprising to Spencer really. Saliva coats his fingers which he smears across your lips, just degrading enough for you to giggle.

“Lay on your back from me, I wanna see you,” Spencer doesn’t need to finish his sentence to say that he wants to see how his cum fills you up, such a pretty sight it doesn’t need any words for description.

You lay down, waiting for Spencer who doesn’t wait to get on top of you. That’s when you catch it again - his fucking chain. His name around your neck, hickies from you around his neck just like your name was. Spencer gets on top of you, chain hanging from around neck and all you can think is how fucking badly you needed this man inside of you. The way he had you, feeling this possessive over him made you fucking insane. You knew he’d always keep that chain on, like you were always hanging around his neck anyways but you needed to do more. You wanted to scratch his back up, steal his soul when you gave him head - everything, you wanted to do everything for that man. When he fucks you and you feel all 7inches, stretching you out - cumming inside you like he owned you because he did. So carelessly fucking you, making you cry out his name and now he had your name hanging around his neck. You’d be damned if another person even got near him.

“Say my name when you fuck me,” you request. Spencer groans, slowly doing just as he promised, hitting your cervix before bringing his hips up - ready to fuck the daylights out of you with no question. Your eyes fixated on the jewelry that adorned him as he pounded into you, your voice totally lost to you as you feel his cock pulsate inside of you. He was relentless, the sound of his hips making contact with your backside filling the room with such a filthy sound. It was filthy the way Spencer fucked you. He leans down to you, his chain resting on your chest as he hands move to the side of your face. He wants to hit you, call you his pretty slut before he fills you with his cum. You just flutter your lashes and before he can ask.

“Green,”

Spencer's hands hit the side of your face roughly, the stinging sensation rather pleasing in all reality. Spencer's voice is low, an octave lower and hoarse as he pounds you out like it was nothing.

“You’re such a good slut for me, aren’t you baby? Taking all of me in, like it’s easy. What were you doing while I was gone? Bet you were getting ready for me do this to you, weren’t you. Did any of those toys you used feel as good as me,” Spencers words are callous, and degrading but you loved every second of it. You shake your head.

“Nothing was as good as you,” your response was forced out. Spencer laughs, voice tinged with something dark.

“Nothing,” Spencer pushes his hips as far as he can, making you cry out as he reached the edge “Nothing ever will be,” Spencer finished

You tighten yourself around Spencer, looping your legs around his waist to make sure all of him shoots inside you. He finishes with a loud groan, fucking the cum into you a last few times before pulling out. You’re more turned on than you know what to do with so you loop your fingers in Spencer's chain and kiss him, wet and sloppy as he finishes. He presses his forehead to yours as he kisses you, eyes locking with yours as the both you stare at eachother in euphoric post sex glow. Spencer breaks out into a giggle as he comes down, falling into you when he pulls out and you do the same.

“All this because of a chain?,Spencer asks. You just nod, placing a kiss in Spencers messy hair before sighing.

“If you ever date anyone else, I’ll be the person in prison,” you say stubbornly. Spencer just laughs a little bit more, the two of you lying comfortably as Spencer places kisses over some of the hickies he left.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, love,”

----

taglist: @cynbx @zephyr-studiesjp @skrrrrrrrrrrt @reid-187 @louistwinslover @pastanest @nomajdetective @iamburdened

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds self insert #sfhajk this fic was interesting to write tbh.#idk how to feel yet #dom!spencer

8K notes · View notes

brvdges · 3 years

Text

Like A River Flows - Stark!Reader x Peter Parker

Title: like a river flows

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Y/N hopes to meet her soulmate on her eighteenth birthday. Soulmate No Blip AU

Warnings: none

A/N: I've been gone so long but here's a new imagine! I got a new laptop! So hopefully there will be tons more of these. I listened to "Can't Help Falling In Love" by Kina Grannis if you wanna get the full experience.

Word Count: 1824

___

You could hear the sound of glasses clinking and laughter echoing up from the main room as you tugged at your dress at the top of the stairs. You turned around and looked in the ornate mirror behind you.

Everything about you was perfectly polished and plucked; your lace was perfectly laid with every hair beautifully framing your face. Your ears were adorned with simple gold diamond studs and a matching name necklace sat daintily on your collarbone.

Your makeup was done to perfection with your brown eyes sparkling from behind layers of shadow, liner, mascara, and false lashes. For the first time in your life, you had gotten your makeup done professionally. Your father had paid for it of course -- it was at his insistence that you had gotten it done.

In fact, the entire party was at his insistence and he had taken it upon himself to have every detail perfect. You didn’t really want a big elaborate birthday party, but today was the big day.

Everyone had a special day when you’d finally know the person you’re meant to be with. At a young age, you’d come to the conclusion somehow your meeting would be on your eighteenth birthday. When your father was enlightened with this fact, he had taken it upon himself to make everything perfect -- including you. Thanks to him, you looked undeniably stunning. It was the most beautiful you had seen yourself in a long while. Ever since your mom had passed, you hadn't felt the need to dress up anymore -- so it no longer felt like you.

“You look absolutely radiant, Y/N.” Pepper assured you as she joined you in looking in the mirror. “Your father outdid himself. Just wait until he sees you.” You understood immediately what she meant, you were almost a spitting image of your mother. Your mahogany skin and high cheekbones were hers, as was your smile and arched eyebrows. The only evidence of your father was the occasional facial expression. “You ready?” she asked turning you back towards the steps.

You nodded and smiled cautiously, “You’re gonna be okay. There’s so many people down there and they’re all excited to see you.” The two of you peered over the banister down all the sea of people below. Your father had indeed gone for a more sophisticated approach, but as with all Stark parties it was pretty much promised to liven up as the night went on.

“All right! Chin up!” You did as you were told and began your way down the grand staircase. As you made your descent, you saw the attention shift to you as everyone took you in for the first time that night. “The birthday girl is here!” Natasha raised a glass to you. You smiled to her as you were welcomed with a myriad of birthday wishes.

As the party continued on, you felt almost like a princess. So many promising people had come up and introduced themselves to you; however nothing had clicked yet. You were starting to wonder if all the theatrics had been for nothing when your dad found you. You were standing against the wall watching your friends have a ball of a time dancing to the DJ that had recently taken place of the string quartet.

“Y/N, shouldn’t you be dancing?” he asked, his dark brows furrowing in confusion. You sighed disappointedly, “Yeah, I guess.” You picked at a string on your dress, “I thought I’d meet them today.” Your dad nodded glancing over at Pepper. She was talking excitedly to Natasha -- likely about wedding plans. The way he looked at her was so beautiful. The way you could tell everything he felt for her from just a look was absolutely amazing. That was it -- that what you wanted.

“Well, Y/N, you never know there’s still a few hours left to your birthday.” you frowned a bit, “I’ve talked to every person here that I’ve never met. I’m pretty sure it’s not happening today.” your dad chuckled, “You know Y/N, I know I’ve told you the story of how I met your mom.”

“Italy, 1999.” you mumbled looking up at your father. He nodded, “We met and it felt right. I’m not one to be very emotional, but I knew I wanted to keep her around. There was just something about her.” you tilted your head, “She wasn’t your soulmate though. Pepper is.” He sighed, “She was the one for me -- well until she passed, of course. By that time, I had known Pepper for years and I didn’t see her in that way until one day, I just did.” He looked over at her again, her and Natasha had been joined by Maria.

“I don’t know if you're understanding what I’m getting at. I don’t know if I’m explaining it clearly. What I’m saying is -- it could be someone you’ve already met and maybe you just haven’t realized it yet. No one ever said it had to be someone new -- just that there was a day that you would know.” He gave you a small smile, “You should enjoy your night because either way, you look amazing, kiddo. Happy birthday.” he playfully hit you on the shoulder before walking away.

Taking your dad’s words to heart, you decided to let it go for the night and just have fun. You made your way out onto the dancefloor, your friends cheering at your arrival.

...

It was finally the end of the night, cake had been eaten and presents had been surveyed as there were too many to open. Most of the guests were beginning to go home but some still lingered out on the cul-de-sac. You stood on the front porch, your heels in your right hand as you waved people goodbye with your left.

“I seemed to have missed most of the festivities.” A familiar voice made you turn around to see your father’s prodigy, Peter Parker, standing behind you. You were pretty good friends with Peter as he had been working with your father for little over three years now. Even still, he seemed to have his moments where he seemed to shut himself off from you and get quiet. He seemed to have his moments and his secrets and so you didn’t really hang out much outside him visiting the tower.

He also wasn’t a social butterfly so even though you had invited him to your party, you didn’t actually expect him to show. Even though it was the end of the night, your spirits still rose seeing him here. “Yeah, you did. My dad got so drunk he serenaded Pepper on the bar.” the two of you laughed.

You looked out over the seemingly never-ending property, your father had held your party at the summer home. It aided in you feeling like a princess, there was a garden maze on the south side of the home and a long driveway lit by lanterns. You glanced over at Peter and stepped off of the porch, “Would you like to join me on a walk?” He smiled and followed.

The two of you slowly made your way towards the garden maze on the other side of the property. “You look...” he trailed off while admiring you. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks and were glad he couldn’t actually see it, “Thank you.” The two of you turned into the garden maze as lightning bugs flew overhead and a cool breeze filled the air. As you walked, you tried to catch and release a few lightning bugs.

The sounds of late summer night hummed in the background as you spotted the small black rectangular box in his hand, “What’s that?” you asked. He looked down at it sheepishly, “It’s just something I got you. I don’t know if you’ll actually like it.” He had thought to buy you something? That was unexpected, but very welcomed.

Without you saying anything, he slowly opened the small box to reveal another gold necklace. “It’s not 100 percent pure gold like the ones your dad gets you,” it was absolutely gorgeous. It was a small heart pendant attached to a gold chain. “It’s stupid really-” he scratched the back of his neck, looking down at it. “It’s beautiful, Peter.” You whispered in awe.

“Would you mind? You can take the other one off.” You said turning around. He carefully removed it from the box. He put it over your head and placed the pendant on your collarbone before securing it in the back and you felt a warm sensation in your heart. Suddenly, everything changed.

It was like your senses had sharpened. You could hear the distant conversation at the front of the property and the chirping of the crickets. You could feel the soft summer breeze across your body and Peter’s soft breath on the back of your neck where goosebumps had started to form. Every time his skin accidentally brushed yours, it felt delicate yet intense all at once. The world seemed to slow as he pulled your hair over the chain after removing the other necklace and turned you to face him.

You studied his face and your eyes fell upon his brown ones. His hand found yours sending shivers through your body. You lightly squeezed his hand before pulling him closer feeling your knees start to get weak.

Resting your hand on the side of his face, you slowly guided him to the ground. You were close enough to lightly feel the air escaping his nose. He looked down at your lips and was about to lean in when- “Y/N! Come say goodbye to your grandmother!” your father called off from the distance somewhere.

The two of you fell apart still sitting on the ground the closest you had ever been. You frowned slightly looking away, “I should say goodbye to my nonna. I usually give her a kiss and a hug goodbye.” You licked your lips looking down to avoid eye contact. “She flew in from Italy -- my mom’s side of the family. I don’t get to see her like that.”

“No, no. I understand.” he mumbled as you both quickly stood. You began dusting off your dress as he helped. You looked up at him again quickly before looking back down again, “Thanks again. It’s beautiful.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes again because his gaze suddenly felt so intense, it felt like you’d melt. “You’re welcome.”

“Y/N!” your dad yelled off in the distance again. You gestured towards the balcony of the house where your dad was likely yelling from, “I have to go.” Peter nodded quickly, “I understand.” You admired him and watched as his eyes softly gazed over your features one last time. “Good night, Peter.” you waved quickly, “Good night, Y/N.” You gathered your dress and hurried off towards where your dad and nonna waited for you on the balcony.

That was it.

#avengers imagine #avengers au #avengers x reader #stark!reader #peter parker x reader #dad!tony x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker imagines #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #peter parker au

157 notes · View notes

capituloperdido1 · 3 years

Text

ACOSAS Chp5

Happy Friday Everyone,

I apologize ahead for the short chapter, I've been traveling a lot the last couple of days and have not been able to write as much as i wanted. I promise to come back with 2 chapters next week.

As always, let me know if you have any feedback, or if you want to be added to the list.

Enjoy!

Warnings: sexual language, but other than that pure fluff.

Gwyn's stomach was fluttering as she walked behind the shadowsinger, Azriel's look towards her still piercing her even after five long minutes of walking. She checked herself again, her dress, her shoes, her necklace; she could not see her face but tried to touch and check if there was anything on her face.

Trying to decipher this male was more complicated than all the tasks she had done for Merrill.

The way he had just looked at her was just... lustful.

She had felt his scent changing as he took her in, combined with the intensity of his gaze.

But she still was not going to accept that it was out of attraction, there had to be another explanation. Because Azriel had too much history of tangling himself with far more beautiful women.

Elain... Mor...

She had heard bits and pieces from Nesta about the shadow's singer's love life. She knew from these short conversations that Azriel did not think himself worthy of having someone who chose him first.

She also knew that at the moment, he was pinning over the middle Archeron sister, graceful and wonderful in her own essence.

She could not blame him, from what she had seen of Elain, she was the beauty of the sisters. Her whole presence was light, class, and divinity. Even she would probably fall for Elain if she had the chance.

So there was no way he was looking at her with attraction, she probably had something on her face.

Feeling her stomach flutter even more at the idea of Azriel being attracted to her, she blurred "i read something really interesting today, about the history of Valkyries".

Azriel stopped, waiting for her to catch up to him, "i saw you reading today. I'm sorry i did not pay attention to you earlier"

"No! no please don't worry," she said, grabbing his elbow slightly, "it's not something that important anyway. I mean, the temples were probably destroyed after the Valkyries were ambushed".

"temples?" Azriel looked towards her confused.

She blushed slightly at the sight of his eyes, "right... i should start in the beginning. Basically, Valkyries were training in temples all across Prythian. They each specialized in different forms of training and powers, each court held a temple that would train females of all ages. Once their training was complete, they would be sent to a temple at the border of the Spring and Summer court. They called it Ivor, and it was said to be in a jungle-like environment that allowed only the worthy to pass through. Amanecer told me that this temple held the final test of the Valkyrie, only the women who passed through were considered full Valkyries."

She stopped, afraid she was rambling and talking incoherently.

Azriel looked amazed, "Ivor... I remember Ivor, there were rumors of soldiers who were male that were killed after setting foot there".

Gwyn's eyes opened widely, sometimes she forgot how old he was.

He continued, "it is weird i had forgotten about the temples, i remember Rhys, Cass and i would read about them. Mother.. even Rhy's sister dreamed about training in the temple of the Summer Court".

She smiled sadly, the mention of her high lord's sister squeezing her heart a bit. "So many women could've been warriors, they could've helped the last war", she looked at Azriel, "many of us could've been saved from so many tragedies if we only knew how to defend ourselves".

"There is no doubt in my mind that you would've kicked some Hybern ass out there in the battlefield. Everyone would've been scared shitless of the redhead Valkyrie running towards them", he said jokingly.

She laughed, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood.

"In all seriousness, besides looking for the trove, we should definitely try to figure out how we can incorporate all of these Valkyrie books in our training. We have expanded in the last couple of months, but i know many more females have heard about you guys and want to train with you. That includes Amanecer" Azriel said.

She blushed, looking down to her hands, "thank you Azriel, we will. I will make sure every female at least hears about us, and i will help them as much as i can."

The sound of fair music interrupted their conversation, Gwyn directed her view towards the street they were approaching. Stores overwhelmed the view of the road, vendors selling sweets, foods, clothing, armor and art. The smell of fresh fruits and vegetables filled her nose as she took in the sight before her.

The noise, the sight, the smell...

She was actually in a city, it was not Velaris but it was a place where normal people would go to.

She saw a few people walking, living in their own worlds as if nothing could suddenly happen that would change that.

There were only about fifteen walkings, but for Gwyn, that felt like if a pride of people was coming to surround her.

Her throat began to close, her heart racing faster by the second.

Vile rose at her throat, sweat poured through her pores.

She could not breathe, she needed to run away and get to a safe place.

She tried and failed to control her emotions, telling herself that it was fine. That all the people around her would not hurt her.

But she could not stop the panic rising in her body.

She took a step back, ashamed and humiliated.

She could not do it.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Azriel's eyes were closed, taking in the delicious smell of spices traditional to the Day court. Out of all the things he had missed from visiting Helion, the food was at the top of his list. He remembers the night where Helion would take him walking through the city, feeding him all types of meats, rice, vegetables.

He smiled to himself, remembering when life had been a little easier.

His shadows began swirling fast around him, trying to catch his attention.

Panic, she is in panic.

Mistress is in distress.

She is leaving.

Azriel opened his eyes, turning towards the priestess.

Her brave face had turned into panicked and terrorized as she took steps to retreat from the city. Her eyes were sad, and she seemed to avoid his looks, afraid that he would judge her if she decided not to go through with this.

He extended his arms towards her, "we have two options, you can either tell me to take you back to the palace, and we will try again tomorrow. Or you can take a step forward, grab yourself on to me and look forward."

Her blue eyes shined with tears as she looked at him, hesitant to take that step.

Come on Gwyn, tiptoe if you must, but take a step towards me.

Her eyes widened, and Azriel blushed slightly at the realization that he had said that out loud.

She took one step towards him,

Two

Three

And then she grabbed his arm, looking straight in his eyes.

His shadows began to envelop themselves onto Gwyn, surrounding her arm and holding her.

She smiled again, turning her face and looking forward, "let's do this".

They take a step forward, and soon they are surrounded by the city lights.

Azriel guides her towards the small bookstore that he had visited all those years ago. The owner was an old fae who had collected books from the continent throughout the years, all genres and authors in his small stall.

Not surprisingly, Gwyn ends up almost buying the whole store. Enjoying particularly the romance section.

"This one is definitely Nesta's level of romance," she says, showing him the brown leather book with yellow pages.

"What is it about?" he says.

"A romance between an assassin and the princess" she hands him the book, "look, maybe you will finally read some good literature. Not those boring war books"

He smiles, opens the book in a random chapter, and begins reading.

I couldn’t get enough of him. I was tired and sore but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted the ache. I wanted him in me, all the time. His weight on top of me. I wanted to squeeze him in further and further. I wanted to watch his face. I wanted his sweat to drop onto me.

I got on top of him. Letting my breasts touch his face as i held him and put him in. He felt so warm in me.

I'll never forget it.

His face as i took control and he liked it. As i held his hands down and moved on top of him.

Azriel felt heat rising up his cheeks, looking shocked at Gwyn, "all you guys read is smut".

She flushed, noticing the page he now held open. Her face now of regret as she tried to take the book away from him, "that was just a coincidence. If you had opened any other page there would've been romance and adventure. This author writes really passionate romances, it just you don't know anything about romance".

He laughed, extending his arm high up so she would not be able to catch it.

Is that how she likes it? does she like to control? Words screaming in his mind.

He looked down at her neck once again, noticing the pendant moving as she jumped up trying to reach for the book. He noticed the red lips that pouted as she grew frustrated. He noticed the flushed cheeks giving away her shyness and embarrassment.

He stared at her intensely. She looked so flustered, that his mind could not help but wonder if she could be flustered in many other ways. After a kiss to her cheek, or to her mouth, or her neck. After a passionate encounter between them.

She stopped jumping, catching his strong gaze.

Her face became even redder. Which she quickly tried to hide as she looked down and began playing with her hair. Grabbing pieces of hair and tugging them behind her ear.

Azriel's temperature begins to rise at the sight of the smooth skin of her neck, the urge of grabbing it and kissing it overtaking him.

The image of Gwyn grabbing his wrist while on top of him on his mind.

Wait... What, he thinks.

Clearing his throat he extends his arm towards her and gives her the book back, "would you like to walk for a couple more minutes?"

She nods, still flushed and looking everywhere but him.

Idiot, you made her uncomfortable.

"I will take you to a couple more stores before we go, are you comfortable with that?" he asks.

"Y..yeah, it's just a bit chilly now. But i want to keep walking, if that's okay" she says, her voice soft and low.

Without thinking twice, he takes off his leather jacket, placing it around her shoulders.

Gwyn lifts her teal eyes towards him and smiles, "thank you".

They keep walking around the boardwalk, neither of them physically touching each other in fear of making a wrong move. Gwyn stops in a store that sells handicrafts traditional to the Day court. Telling him that she wants to take the chance to buy as many gifts for her friends as possible.

He waits for her outside of the store, as she insisted to go inside by herself.

Sitting on the stairs leading into the small building, Azriel traces his thoughts back to their encounter in front of the bookstore.

He had been feeling pressure in his heart, ashamed and angry at himself for making her uncomfortable.

He had lost control over his feelings, letting his mind play dirty thoughts with someone who was most likely not interested in any sexual activity.

But his mind also took him to her beautiful face, the way she seemed to shine every time she looked at him. The way the necklace highlighted the divinity of the priestess. The way her red hair looked during the day. The way her eyes changed shades during sunrise, sunset, at night.

Something in him wanted more, he wanted to see what she looked like when she slept when she awoke in the morning.

He wanted to inspect her completely, find out if she had freckles anywhere else besides her face. He wanted to taste her lips and find out if they tasted as sweet as they looked.

Sighing, Azriel grabbed his hair and looked towards the floor, frustrated and now even more angry with his selfish mind.

He was lusting after the priestess, while had unresolved issues with two females who he had also lusted over.

Elain and Mor, the two women who he could not have.

What made him think that someone like Gwyn would ever choose him?

She had to know, Nesta would've told her.

Told her how much he had hurt Elain, how Mor had done horrible things just to keep him away from her. How he had pushed his feelings onto them without thinking about the women he claimed to love.

Both Elain and Mor deserved so much better.

Gwyn deserved someone better, not him.

He could never be what they needed, his past had been clear enough.

He was destined to love but never receive love back, he was destined to hurt, destined to be alone.

"Azriel?" her sweet voice came to his ears.

Mother, he was obsessed, even hearing her while daydreaming about her.

"Azriel" sounded again.

The light and soft pressure of her hands on his arms startled him.

He looked up, finding the female looking at him with worry.

"are you alright?" she said

He quickly stood, "y...yeah I'm sorry, i was falling asleep", he lied.

She smiled, extending a paper bag towards him, "well we can head home after you open this".

A small pearl bracelet of blues and whites welcomed him once he opened the bag. White, teal, and navy blue pearls cold and smooth as he touched them.

"I know you probably won't always use it, but I wanted to give it to you, as a thank you for everything you have done for me," she said, flushing slightly.

Azriel's heart threatened to beat out of his chest, a knot forming in his throat.

No, I definitely do not deserve her. He thought.

"I will wear it, every single day," he said, putting the bracelet in his scarred hands.

She smiled, "Want me to put it on you?" extending her hands towards him.

He nods, looking at her smooth skin touching the imperfections of his hands. Looking at how the beautiful bracelet contrasted with the horrors of his skin.

"Beautiful," she said.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Neither of them said anything else as they walked back to the castle, both seemed too busy in their own minds to concern themselves with conversation.

They parted ways, promising each other to sleep only a few hours before meeting for their next challenge.

They go into their rooms, falling on their beds and closing their eyes as they hold on to that new piece of each other.

Gwyn smells the male she loves, covering herself with his jacket as she falls into a deep sleep.

Azriel touches the pearls, his mind imagining each color and what it represents. The navy blue of his siphons, which had and will dust anyone who might hurt her. White of her robes, the purity, and innocence of her heart. Teal of her beautiful eyes, that always looked at him so hopeful, so happy, so proud.

Even though the nightmares came, even though they were even more horrible than the ones before.

Neither of them noticed.

Whether by their exhaustion or by what they held so tightly, the couple awoke unaware of the terrors their mind just had endured.

Their only thought was each other.

TAGLIST: @imsointobooks @gwynkyrie @trashforazriel @meher-sumedha

Chapter 6

#gwyn acotar #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel #azriel fanfic #fanfic #acotar #post acosf #nesta archeron #nesta and gwyn #acotar fanfiction

24 notes · View notes

squibbles-gubwee · 3 years

Text

Shopaholic

In which Fortune and Spooks have fun at the mall.

@thelazyhermits here u go more Fortune Spooks shenanigans

-------------

"Man, I can't remember the last time I went to the mall… Thanks for inviting me, gatita."

Fortune smiled and shook her head, grabbing the much taller man's hand as he looked around in awe, pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his pierced nose.

"Thank you for coming! I know how much you hate the heat, you could have refused…"

"Bah, like I could disappoint my lil sis like that. Besides, the walk to the station wasn't bad. Probably good for me, if anything." The hand she held squeezed hers, a happy smile donning the white haired villain's face.

It was quite kind of him, she thought. He was incredibly sensitive to the sun- not due to any quirk drawback or his poor eyesight, but rather a medical issue he told her about. A very nasty heat stroke he had when he was a child gave the man, as he put it, a 'permanent debuff during the warmer seasons'.

Apparently, once during an outdoor class, he had overexerted himself and ended up fainting due to heat exhaustion. It had put the whole class in a frenzy and he was forced off for two days. Yaomomo and Todoroki made sure Spooks frequently had either water or frozen towels to cool off with now.

"You'll tell me if you start feeling weak or hot, right? Here, let me take your vest, I'll put it in my bag-"

Huffing in amusement, Spooks let go of the concerned lady's hand to shuck his denim outerwear, leaving him in just his tattered crop top. He passed it to her and watched as she folded it, mindful of the patches as she packed it up.

"You didn't have to do that, gatita." The man took the backpack, slinging it over his shoulder much to Fortune's protest.

"I can carry my own bags!"

"Yeah but anyone who has eyes can see that stealing from me is asking for an ass kicking." Spooks proceeded to motion to his boots, these not being his very tall platforms but what they lacked in height they made up for in spikes and studs. Fortune rolled her eyes and brushed her hair from her face, green eyes locking with monochrome ones. Out of habit, Spooks stiffened and tore his gaze away before remembering he had his glasses on, cancelling his quirk out.

"So, where first? I haven't been in years."

Tapping her foot, Fortune thought for a moment before remembering the entire reason for going. "Oh yeah!! I wanted to get something nice to wear for that big staff party coming up!" Fidgeting, her mind was drawn back to Aizawa, Hizashi, and Bakugo who all didn't like clothes shopping. "Oh, um, if it's okay with you, I mean. I don't want you to be bored, sitting and waiting-"

"Psh, what? And miss playing dress up? Not a chance." Fortune huffed and batted his hand away as he ruffled her hair.

Hearing the words 'dress up' made Fortune gasp. "Wait, you're staff too! You need something nice to wear to the party too!"

"Hah! Yeah, no. I'm not going."

Frowning, Fortune stopped, looking over at Spooks as they stood outside the first stop, a nice clothes shop, full of business-y and formal outfits galore. "Wait...what do you mean?"

Blinking, Spooks tilted his head, an unreadable expression on his face. "I'm...not going? To the party?"

Fortune couldn't help the frown deepening, gently holding his hand in both of hers. "Why not, though…? You're staff, are you not?"

She watched Spooks stiffen, worrying his lip rings in a way she knew was a tell that he was getting anxious. "I just...Look, I know I'm not welcome, gatita. I'm not a hero, I'm barely a teacher, and I don't get along with...anyone. The invitation wasn't extended to me." Sighing, he closed his eyes, steeling himself before opening them, giving a smile. "Listen, I'll be fine. I'd rather help you anyway! This is important to you, and it'll be fun. Ellos no me quieren allí- ah, I'm not wanted there."

"That's not true!!"

Fortune could barely contain her shaking, anger and sorrow mixing in a miasma at how someone could speak of themselves like that, especially someone she cared so much about.

"It's not true, Spooks! I want you there! I know you don't get along with everyone, but it wouldn't be the same without you!" Putting her hands on her hips, the TA huffed. "Besides, I want a partner to dance with, and everyone knows you have the best moves~"

Her flattery made him laugh, the villain nodding and rubbing his eye. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry, I'll go."

"That's what I thought! Now come on, we got to look our best!"

---

"I can't believe you bought a skirt!"

They had hit up several stores, Spooks ending up with a shin length black suspender skirt coupled with a pinstripe button down. Fortune went with a cute tartan overall dress and a peachy turtleneck sweater.

They also had swung by the cute shop that Aizawa, Nemuri and Hizashi had brought her to before, where she picked up a necklace with a cute cat pendant that she planned on pairing with the outfit along with some darling kitty print stockings to match. It was while they were there that Spooks had saw the backpacks, zeroing in on the raccoon one and immediately falling in love with it. It was now settled next to her own cat backpack, the two of them buying keychains of the other's animal and attaching them to their packs.

Spooks grinned at the astonishment, pointing a fry at Fortune as they ate at the food court. "What? Nothing more punk than giving gender norms a big ol "fuck you"! Did you think it was weird or something?"

"No, it's cool for guys to wear skirts and dresses. I'm just shocked you found one that made it look like you actually have the hips for it."

The insulted gasp was Fortune's only warning as a fry hit her cheek, making her burst into a fit of laughter. "You're getting too catty!! Maybe I should ask Koda to send the cats off for a few days so you can tone it down!"

"Noooo, stop! You're bullying me! I'll call Aizawa crying, don't test me!"

The white haired man cackled, gently pinching her cheek. "Alright, alright! No tattling now!" With that, he went back to his fries, the milkshake he sipped on colourful and sweet. He offered a taste which Fortune accepted.

"So, are you starting to get excited about going?"

"A bit...Make sure to remind me of that seam in your dress when we get back to the dorms, by the way. I can hem it!"

"I will. And good!! I'm glad you're getting more into the idea!" Fortune beamed, leaning forward a bit on the table as she took a bite of her mango chicken. "So, are you going to dance with anyone but me? Not that there's anything wrong with it, I'm just trying to picture it." She couldn't help the snort when she thought of Spooks, a towering 6'4, dancing with Principal Nedzu.

"D-Dance? Oh um, I don't think this is one of those kinds of parties, but I still wouldn't mind dancing with you! Not many people I could think of that I would want to dance with, after all! Keheheh…"

The redhead cocked her head, green eyes looking over the man in front of her. He was behaving…odd. His bravado was dampened, eyes shifting nervously, he was fidgety and toying with his piercings… Fortune narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"Hey, Spooks-nii-san, were there any other reasons you didn't feel like coming to the party? Like, I know you said you didn't feel welcome, but...were you also maybe...scared of seeing someone there?"

"H-Huh? No, um. It's not that, I mean a little bit it is but, I also just...didn't want to ah… aye, dios…" Fortune waited patiently as he cursed under his breath, seeming to argue with himself about something. "I did not want to um...make myself embarrassed...in front of another?"

"You didn't want to humiliate yourself in front of someone?"

"Yes! Bah, that."

Fortune was quiet as she studied the long haired delinquent, the other quietly sipping his shake as he looked around, his glasses occasionally catching the light.

...He didn't want to embarass himself. He was nervous about going, he could think of very few people other than her that he wanted to dance with…

Lightning practically shot down her spine as she gasped, piece after piece clicking into place as she pointed a finger at him. "You…"

"M-Me?! What? Listen I said sorry about eating the last piece of taffy-"

"-YOU have a CRUSH on someone!!"

The rate at which the older man paled was hilarious, the only colour being the red that bloomed on his face and ears as he stuttered, panicked. "What?? I!! I just, um! I don't want to talk about this topic! I refuse!"

"Too bad, I'm your little sister! Now tell me who you have a crush on!"

#bnha fic #mha fic #tabf fanfic #bnha oc #mha oc

8 notes · View notes

athenagc94 · 3 years

Text

Delving Beneath the Surface

Hello! Here is the first chapter of my new Stardew Valley fanfic - Delving Beneath the Surface. Follow my farmer, Verona, as she searches for dwarven artifacts to learn their language, lost to the ages. If you’re interested in following along, I’ll be updating it here on AO3 and here on Wattpad. Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~

The Stardrop Saloon was the place to be on a Friday night.

More accurately, it was the only place to be in Pelican Town on a Friday night.

Verona chatted amicably with Emily as she fixed her a drink behind the bar. She asked Haley to join her, but she chose to spend the night with Alex instead. She mentioned something about not wanting to interact with her sister more than she thought was necessary, but Verona struggled to understand why. Sure, Emily had her quirks, but in the end, she was sweeter than Robin’s strawberry crumble.

And she always gave her a discount on drinks when Gus had his back turned.

Emily slid her drink across the beaten counter. “You should really stop by more often. You brighten up the room with that aura of yours.” She motioned to her, the crystal beads on her wrists catching the light like a disco ball. “It has this shimmer I don’t often see around here. Maybe because you’re from out of town.”

“Thanks,” she heard the doubt in her voice, “I think?”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s a compliment.” She sighed dreamily. “I think you’re rubbing off on Haley. Her aura used to be so blah, but now it’s much brighter. I suspect you have something to do with it.”

She merely smiled as she took a sip of her drink. The orange juice and grenadine barely masked the burn of liquor. Emily was also very generous with her alcohol. One of her mixed drinks left the room spinning if she drank it too quickly. And she never needed more than one. It was a mistake she only made once after she woke up, half-naked and covered in hay, with Shane. The pair agreed never to speak of it again. They had taken to avoiding each other ever since.

Even now, he refused to meet her eye from across the bar.

Clearing her throat, she set her drink aside and said, “We both know she’s a lot nicer than people give her credit for. She just needs to warm up to someone first.”

Emily leaned against the bar, cradling her cheek in her palm. “Oh, I know how sweet she can be, but I like to see her hanging out with someone who isn’t Alex. I love that boy, I really do, but he’s a bit bland for my tastes.”

Verona shrugged. “Alex is fine.”

“No one wants to be described as fine,” Emily said with a knowing smile, “Unless they’re being called fine.” Verona shook her head, earning an airy laugh. “You know I’m right.”

“I will neither confirm nor deny such things.”

Emily pouted. “Boo. You’re no fun.”

At the end of the bar, a harried-looking Elliott plopped down in a seat and waved Emily over. She eyed him warily, then turned back to Verona. “He must have finished another long writing session,” she whispered so only she could hear, “he always comes here for a celebratory glass of wine, but if you ask me, his first order of business should be the bathhouse.”

Verona hid her smile in her drink.

With a smirk, she added, “I got to keep working, but let me know when you need a refill. It’s on the house. Just don’t tell Gus.”

“You spoil me.”

“Anything for my sister’s best friend.”

Like she said, sweeter than strawberry crumble.

Drink in hand, Verona wandered over to the game room on the far side of the saloon. Abigail and the boys normally laid claim to it before she arrived. The enduring smell of cigarette smoke and old pizza proved that much. To her surprise, the trio was absent that evening and the game room abandoned. She stepped inside, studying the games consoles on the long wall.

She lingered on one – Journey of the Prairie King. The monitor transitioned between the trial and the high scores.

The coveted first place belonged to someone with the initials SQM.

She glanced back at the bar. No one paid her any mind. The chatter was loud enough to drown out the jaunty music coming from the console. Surely, no one would miss her if she played a game or two.

Fishing a coin from her pocket, she shoved it into the machine. The monitor transitioned away from the high scores and straight into the game. The goal was simple enough. Shoot enemies and avoid getting touched. She could manage that.

Her fingers flew across the control pad. Dodge, shoot, collect. She enjoyed the thrill that came with these games. No strategy needed. Something to kill time and sweep her away. That was exactly what she needed after a long week of farm work. Ten minutes came and went in the blink of any eye. The LED lights on the marquee lit up followed by the crawl of the ‘high score’ animation across the screen.

She threw her hands up and whooped triumphantly. “Take that SQM.” She replaced their initials with her own – VDS. The screen popped up and she took a moment to revel in her victory. Pulling a coin from her pocket, she started another game. At the very least, she could knock SQM to third place before she called it a night.

“What are you doing?”

Verona whipped around. Sebastian leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed tight over his chest. She shifted in front of the console and sputtered, “Me? I was just killing time, or whatever.” It beeped and flashed, signaling her loss. “And I’m not very good.”

“Whatever.”

He made a beeline for the pool cues on the far wall. She watched as he reached for one, then seemed to reconsider, grabbing the one beside it. He weighed it in his hand with a satisfied hum and turned to the table.

“Playing pool by yourself?”

He ignored her as he organized the balls in the triangle rack. She stood opposite him, watching quietly. The soft clack of plastic filled the empty air between them as she waited for him to acknowledge her. A minute passed before she sighed and took the cue ball, rolling it idly between her hands. “Not much of a talker, eh?”

Silence.

“Haley mentioned that you like to keep to yourself.” A muscle in his jaw tightened. “And that you don’t get out much, which seems kind of mean if you ask me. One could argue that I don’t get out very much because I—”

“Look,” Sebastian cut her with a glare, “I’m not interested in…”

He trailed off, zeroing in on her chest. Her blood coated her veins like a thin sheet of ice. She should have been used to the stares by now. It happened all the time in Zuzu City. On the street, the subways, around the Joja office. Eyes followed her wherever she went. She hoped Pelican Town would be different, but evidently not.

“Where did you get that?”

Her brow pitched. “Where did I get what?”

He took a step towards her. She matched it with a step back. Surprise colored his features as he studied her. The full brunt of his gaze unnerved her, but it felt far from predatory in the way that she was used to. The fear that swelled in her gut must have translated on her face because he stepped back, giving her the space that she needed. The pressure that weighed on her chest lightened until she could breathe again.

“That.” He motioned to her chest. She followed the line of his gaze to the pendant hanging off her neck. A pale blue gemstone on a simple chain. “Do you know what that is?”

She found the gemstone while exploring the mines earlier that week. Amongst the snow and ice coating the lower levels, she almost missed it, but it caught the light of her flashlight just right. When she got home, she decided it would make a lovely necklace and threw it on a chain.

“It’s a necklace.”

He gave her a long look. “That’s a frozen tear.”

She stared at him. Was that supposed to resonate with her or something? He scratched irritably at the nape of his neck. The shaved underside of his head had grown out and curled around his ears. She noted the reddish hue at his roots and bit back a smile.

“Legend says those are the tears of yetis that inhabited the mines thousands of years ago. The museum used to have one, but it was stolen with the rest of the collection.” He gave her a once over – like he suspected her of stealing it. She had a killer alibi considering that happened years before she arrived in town – and they both knew it. “How did you manage to find one?”

“I found it while gathering ore the other day.” She brushed her fingers over the gemstone, marveling at how it still felt cold to the touch. Maybe there was some truth to the legend after all. “I had no idea these were so rare.”

“Wait. You went down to the mines by yourself?” She braced herself, already anticipating the direction this conversation was about to go. “Why? Wouldn’t that ruin your manicure or something?”

She threw her whole body into the eye roll she gave him. He had no idea. With all the work she did on the farm, there was no hope of salvaging her cuticles. The closest nail tech was two hours away. She had neither the money nor the time to do anything about it.

“Well, yeah, it does,” she deadpanned, “but I also want to commission some tappers for trees to make a little extra money, but Clint’s ore prices are ridiculous.”

“You’re telling me that little miss pageant princess went down to the mine alone?”

Verona resisted the urge to groan. If she had known that rumor would spread like wildfire, then she would have kept that chapter of her life to herself. Granted, she never expected a polite conversation with Jodi to end with half the town knowing about her history with frilly gowns and tiaras. She came here for a fresh start, but she couldn’t escape her past that easily.

Sebastian sized her up. “And you came back unscathed? I call bullshit.”

“I wouldn’t say unscathed.” She teased the sleeve of her sweater. “I had to buy a drugstore worth of bandages and antiseptic from Harvey when I got back. Those bats are merciless.”

She pushed up her sleeves and showed him the bandages wrapped around her forearms. The cuts had stopped bleeding, but a few gashes still looked nasty, so she kept them wrapped until they healed a little more. Harvey warned her that a few would probably scar, so there went her flawless skin. Her mother would have a meltdown if she ever found out, but she could cross that proverbial bridge later.

“Okay,” Sebastian grimaced, “but why go down?”

“The prices here are ridiculous,” she reiterated, “Pierre already bleeds me dry at the turn of the season when I buy seeds. I can’t afford Clint’s ore prices on top of it. If I can gather it myself, then I will.”

“Fair enough.” He turned back to the pool balls, signaling the end of their conversation.

Verona was never one to pay attention to those signals. “So, are you playing pool alone?”

He sighed. “Sam got stuck re-stocking shelves at work and Abigail is helping her dad with inventory. They’ll stop by later, but I decided to come ahead and set things up for us.” He swiped the cue ball from her hands and set it on the table. “So, no, I’m not playing alone.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who plays pool.”

He snorted. “Yeah, well, I would have never pegged you as a gamer.” He nodded to the consoler. “I was ranked number one, but I guess I’ll have to settle for second place.”

Her blink betrayed her surprise. “SQM?”

“Sebastian Quincy McCarthy. What? You thought Sam had the high score?” He rolled his eyes and turned back to the pool table. “I love the guy, but the guitar is the only thing he has going for him. You de-throned me, so thanks for that.”

With a shrug, she said, “In my family, second place is unacceptable.”

“I’m used to second place, so whatever.”

A frown toyed on her lips. What was that supposed to mean? Before she could press, her phone vibrated in her back pocket. A text from Haley greeted her, followed quickly by three more. She skimmed the messages and cursed. Alex ditched her for a last minute gridball game and she wasn’t taking it well. She tucked her phone away. That meant her night and this conversation was officially over.

“I gotta go.”

Sebastian hummed in response, which was better than being ignored, so she took it. Turning to leave, she stopped short. Her gaze fell back to the necklace. Genuine awe like his was hard to come by. It’s not like she needed this frozen tear. She had plenty of gems to make jewelry at home. This obviously meant something to him.

“But before I go,” she pulled the chain over her head, “I want you to have this.”

She offered it to him. He made a face, caught somewhere between surprise and his usual jaded indifference. The two emotions fought for control until he ducked his head. The crown of his head burned crimson. “What? Why?”

“Consider it a gift.” She kept her hand outstretched towards him.

Sebastian shook his head. “No. You’re the one who found it. It’s your prize for surviving the bats. I’ll find one eventually.” He hid his hands in the pockets of his oversized hoodie. Verona sucked irritably on a tooth. As if that would save him.

“I find plenty of cool things in the mines,” she countered, “I can make necklaces from a jade or ruby. This means something to you. I want you to have it.” She took another step towards him, nearly flush with his chest. His breath hitched as she peered up at him through her lashes. It might have been a cute moment if not for the fierce determination coloring her features.

“I insist.” Standing on her tiptoes, she managed to drape the necklace over his head.

His fingers wrapped instinctively around the gem. The corner of his mouth twitched up into the faintest hint of a smile. “It’s still cold,” he breathed in disbelief, “but how? It’s the middle of the…” His eyes fluttered as he refocused on her face. Sawdust and cigarette smoke clung to him, barely masked by the smell of peppermint on his breath.

“Thanks, I,” he swallowed hard, “I appreciate it.”

She beamed at him as she stepped away, breaking whatever that moment might have become. “I’m glad I could give you something you really wanted.” If possible, his blush darkened. “And if you ever want to play pool and the others aren’t around. I’d be more than happy to—”

The bubbly beat of Haley’s ringtone cut her off. Verona swore under her breath and brought it to her ear. “I’m on my way. You can tell me everything over a glass of wine.” She threw a wave over her shoulder as she hurried out of the saloon, not bothering to look back and see if he returned it.

#stardew valley #sdv #sdv sebastian #sdv fanfic #sdv emily #sdv farmer

4 notes · View notes

brooklynislandgirl · 3 years

Text

Beth,

I hope you like this, I wanted to get one with a shark, but I didn’t think any of them looked very good and like sharks and that’s just disappointing. I thought this one was maybe neater anyways because it’s different kinds of shell and pearl, but shiny! So, it made me think of you. Because you are also beautiful and shiny, obviously. But not literally shiny, I mean. In the way that you are the most wonderful person.

BE thought it would be good to leave you a gift too, but since it was his artistic stylings of dug out litter art, I politely told him to just sign the card instead.

We love you very much,

Anakin & BE

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

Christmas had always been a bizarre amalgamation of traditions growing up.

Those years that the Admiral was home for the celebration it was a very by-the-numbers type affair. Many perfectly wrapped gifts under a large fir bedecked and baubled in almost monotone schemes, the kind of thing one would find in a Fortune Five-Hundred Magazine. As if anyone was going to judge a well-connected physician who was also a captain of the Navy and could buy and sell the islands twice over, in true conquering imperial fashion. All accompanied by snide comments about how things were done back in civilisation, with snow and staff and things that she has no real truck with.

When it had only been her mother, the sea and ships claiming her spouse, it was a more riotous affair. The tree smaller, the ornaments hand-made by children’s hands be it her own or extended clans of cousins. The baked goods were closer to island food than gingerbread. Everything mismatched and colourful. Stories of Santa and Elves became the kindness of Lono and the work of the menahune.

And eventually that became Andy doing everything in his power to keep her believing in Santa Claus, tracking in sand that he would vacuum up as soon as the gifts were open and stockings plundered, all very middle of the road between their parents.

When Billy came back to them, they added traditional English aspects to the Irish and Hawai’ian and it all worked in it’s weird way, despite there being so many differences between the three siblings. Beth liked to think that it was love, the spirit of the season that made it all possible. And if she were to talk about it, which she doesn’t, she’d be keen on recalling faces; the way Jay laughed with her hand in front of her mouth, full of some succulent treat, Andy waving a spatula around while wearing a flour covered apron, Baz fiddling with the lights so that they blink in tune of the music, Billy sitting behind her, head on her shoulder. Father Vincent perched on a couch arm going over the keen points of the four masses he’d preform in the twenty four hours starting at midnight.

If there was ever true magick, those were moments of it. Nothing spectacular. Just warmth and love and kindness for all. It was all Beth really wished for, deep down. And she missed those New York City holidays. She missed her cabal, her family.

Though she has to admit, Anakin had been a champion in the last couple weeks. Taking her to all the unique New Orleans celebrations, not once complaining about too many people, the bustle and crowding. He didn’t complain over volunteering at various shelters, of helping her deliver clothes and food to those who are not as fortunate as they are, playing with the children as she made arrangements with some parents. Covering a bill here, declining payment for a medical expense there.

Beth knows she is fortunate, even blessed, and to her the best way to handle it all is to make sure as many people as possible could experience even a fraction of what came to her through other people’s labours. Of course that’s not to say she didn’t enjoy the smaller and quieter moments, the ones that had been meant for just them. She will dream in the days to come of Anakin stretching impossibly thin and putting those ridiculously long limbs to good work hanging the more breakable ornaments high in the tree that she couldn’t herself reach all with promises that no, of course, Bugs will not climb up there to knock them down. She has had to replace at least five ornaments every year with the same or similar thanks to Houdini and his fantastically elaborate heists to do just that. She gets to show Anakin a picture of her cat when Uncle Luis sends her a card featuring both feline and not-actually-blood-relation sharing cocoa against the Manhattan skyline.

She will dream in the days to come of Anakin sitting on the floor with her, bowls of cranberries and bowls of popcorn, stringing them with needle and thread that end in half-strung massacres with broken kernels in their hair, berry juice staining fingers and lips, both of them laughing so hard that they can hardly catch their breath, having rolled around in mock combat, carols playing in the background and Bug Eater watching in true feline disdain from one of the couch arms {having thrice been turned away from trying to steal the finished strings when he thought no one was looking}.

And she will dream in days to come of things that didn’t happen either. The way there were moments when she wanted to bury her face in his neck, which wouldn’t be easy to do, and sway tightly pressed together under the snow that doesn’t fall in New Orleans without a hefty and not very coincidental at all dose of storm-wife rotes. Hot chocolate kisses. A little too much cheer in his eggnog and how sweet it lingers in a softly exhaled breath. Not that she wants this because she feels he owes her something, not even close to that.

And she would be horrified if he did think that. No matter how close they have become, no matter how their continued comfort with one another makes it hard to think of them as separate entities. Which brings into question if they are friends, if they are master and apprentice, if they are some nebulous other that exists without boundary or definition, and which strews emotional landmines everywhere she can think to step.

And straying too far one way or another, it would make her feel like the people she despises. The ones that use Anakin for their own purposes, who have roles that they want him to play for them without any thought as to what he might want, what he might feel about things.

So no, she doesn’t act on her impulses, though at times it’s difficult.

Like this one. The box is not proportional to the amount of nervous energy he exudes, nor the way his normal day-to-day twitching and fluttering of fingers, toe-tapes, an entire pervasive and subtle language all of his own, comes so loudly after he bestows it on her that even she, who sometimes misses verbal cues and instructions and entire conversations, can misjudge it. Which in turn makes her nervous too, because she doesn’t especially know what side of the line he falls on. If it’s anxiety because he doesn’t particularly like what’s in the box or because he likes it too much and fears what she will make of it. After all, there are only so many things that can fit inside it’s shape and size and she takes a breath to fortify herself for whatever it might be. And in the anticipation of a multitude of different delights and disappointments so keen that even in her own mind she has to err on the side of alliteration, she sets the box on her knee, and takes her time to unwrap it at a snail’s pace. She can feel the weight of his gaze on her. It’s a wonder that something so soft, so airy, so delicately blue should feel like a sack of bricks on her bones. She almost offers to go into another room to open her gift, if that might make him feel any more relaxed but she knows doing so would only make him feel worse, and deprive him of the honesty of her reaction. Beth has, of course, no real ability to lie. She cannot hide the things she feels even in the presence of her father, which is why she hasn’t seen the man since Andy’s funeral. And she feels that honesty is important because no one enjoys feeling as if they’ve had something hidden from them. No one likes to think they are being taken advantage of or misguided even in the sake of kindness, and she thinks with Anakin it is doubly so.

The wrapping paper parts sometime before the turn of the century before it’s folded up carefully and tucked into the pocket of her robe. The ribbon is taken and tucked carefully into her hair. It doesn’t matter to her if it clashes with her pyjamas, she thinks it’s delightful. And she has no intention of changing into real clothes. Or putting on make up. Or any of a dozen other things, she’s cozy as she is. A flicker of green rises to his face and falls again back to the box. Which she opens now only to find…another box. Her lips crinkle in the beginnings of a grin, the faint tickle of amusement as if wondering ~teasingly of course~ if this is going to be a series of smaller and smaller containers. She lifts the lid of the next one and…

…and time stills, entirely.

The subtle music fades completely out, drowned into and perhaps eaten entirely by the sudden spiking pounding of her heartbeat, that pulses hard enough that it can be seen, were one to look closely enough, shaking the scoop neck of her pyjama top. And with it comes a bright flush spilling across her cheeks, neither in embarrassment or shock but in genuine surprise, followed a plethora of other emotions not so easily distinguished.

Even by herself. Parts of her recognises the gift for what they are, a beautifully breath-taking necklace that will look stunning against her skin. She recognises the abalone, the gold, the fresh-water pearl. They are all elements of the sea, true and tangible. Even the hasp that keeps the pendant parts has a feeling of the ocean to it. She has no words for it, not ones that would make sense, and her features for a moment become slack, entirely without any discernible cause, complaint, query.

Little by little it comes to life again. In the way that her nostrils flare as she takes and expresses a single breath. The way her throat rises and falls with a slow swallow that doesn’t quite make it all the way down. The sting prickling the backs of her eyes for what she interprets laying there against fluffy cotton, perhaps more meaningful that even Anakin can really understand. “Oh, Anakin.”

Because it isn’t a necklace.

He has plucked Mahina from the sky and captured Her in a gown of gold that lets Her shine pale and milky in warm embrace. Mahina who married a mortal man and lived happily together until ʻAikanaka died of old age.

He has brought too Manaiakalani, the great fish hook of Māui. And reminds her of the connection to all things; for it was baited with the wing of Mahina’s pet bird, the ‘alae, when he tricked his brothers into dredging up the islands. He told them to paddle as hard and fast as they could but to never look back. Of course one did and the line snapped, throwing Manaiakalani into the heavens, though the islands remained. And he has given her, too, her childhood, which sees tears lining the rims of her eyes at the near overwhelming sensation. Memories that she’d forgotten or rather… misplaced. Because as her fingertips follow the wavering lines of shell that remind her of kelp and shells and other things from home, real home, she can’t help but recall almost the first song that she’d learned to sing, one her mother would sing all the way back to the crib. It’s little more than a whisper now, trembling at the edges of the words, hardly even a song. Anakin and the cat are probably the only people who have heard it in a good twenty years or so.

“Kahuli aku, Kahuli mai, Kahuli lei ula, Lei akolea.” A smile starts to blossom. Quirking the corners of her lips as the second verse takes on a bit more substance than the previous. “Kolea, kolea, Ki’i ka wai, Wai akolea.” She doesn’t close the box when she picks up the card, needing a moment to not exactly distance herself, but to collect all her feelings and figure out a way to put them into her appreciation, her thanks, her everything that seems to fall short and unsuitable, unworthy of his gift to her.

She scans the words he’s written her. Her eyes skip over the grammar and spelling mistakes because hey, everyone has challenges, and hers and his so happen to be the spoken and written word respectively and she’s not going to take him to task over things she doesn’t even really notice. Besides, every bit of it is genuinely Anakin. The heights of his enthusiasm, his native sense of self worth {and sometimes lack there of} and it just makes his gift even more perfect than it could already possibly be.

The bit about Bug Eater’s contributions and the smudged paw print only tie it all together. The love he declares, the thoughts behind it all. And it makes her heart feel a hundred times heavier than before. Still and solid in her chest. The note gets secreted into another one of her pockets for the time being. Eventually she’s going to put it in one of her scrapbooks that live in her room away from prying eyes ~not that she wouldn’t share them with him, if she thought he’d care to see them~ so that when she needed this moment the most in some unplanned and yet to be created future, she could easily find it there, sorted by year. Her hands still shake a little as she picks up the necklace, the box occupying the space she had just been sitting in. Several measured steps bring her inside his personal space and them more so as she wraps her arms around his waist and buries her face into his chest. There might have been something about mahalo a couple dozen times, repeated like her rosary in countable decades. Or she could have been weaving a curse upon his house for a million generations of bastard cat sons, it’s really hard to tell when she’s muffled and not even speaking pidgin but pure Hawai’ian. Eventually though, definitely before Epiphany ~which they would be making a king cake for~ she finally pulls away from him and takes his good hand in hers, laying the necklace against his palm. Her chin rises and brings green in line with blue, and every bliss and joy and ounce of nostalgia is there, naked in those depths. “Anakin, I…” Love you. You’re wonderful. I can’t tell you how much I adore this because words aren’t enough. She turns. Gathers up the heavy fall of dark hair and holds it just so. “It’s perfect. Beautiful. I…I need help putting it on.”

4 notes · View notes

snow-whiteandred-rose · 4 years

Text

Spending Valentinsday together - Hyung Line

A/N: Hey everyone! So here are the dates for the hyung line. It was more difficult for me to write them than the Maknae Line. But I did my very best and hope you like it. Vanessa :)

genre: fluff word count: 2,2K

Namjoon

“Tickets, please,” the zoo employee asked you. “Oh, wait. I put them in my wallet.” Namjoon said and searched in his jacket pocket for his wallet. After a few seconds he found it but only for searching the tickets. The staff raised one eyebrow. “I know they must be somewhere,” he excused. “It´s okay when you can´t find them, Joonie. We will buy it again. It wasn`t that much.” You cheered him up because you were used to his Scatterbrainedness. People asked you sometimes if it wasn´t exhausting but the truth was: that was one point why you loved him. Things never would be boring with him. “Ah, I found it. I told you I put them in my pocket.” You smiled when he gave the staff your tickets and he let you in. It was a sunny afternoon and for February it felt like spring. After Namjoon had spent the last days working on writing new lyrics he asked you yesterday if you would like to spent the afternoon with him. He needed the distraction from work sometimes especially when he did the same thing the last 72 hours. After he visited a public location and absorbed the environment he felt fit enough to return to work. “How does it goes with the lyrics?” you asked him and curled up in his arm. “We are making good progress. Half of the songs are finished and the next step are our solo songs. Everyone is working on his own now to create something what match with our personalities,” He explained. When it came to producing music you he was clearly the expert. “And do you know what your song should be about?” “Yes I think its gonna be about you,” he simply said. “Em about me? “ “Yeah about what love really means. It is just a little simple word but everyone perceives it in a different way. We usually don´t notice it until it`s happen and realize that someone has become really meaningful and important to you... and that`s what happen to me,” he took your hands and stroked his thumb over your hand. “I really fell for you,” he said a little bit shyly. “I fell for you as well,” you smiled and leaned towards him that you can kiss him softly. After a few minutes you two went on the path and came to the aquarium. Of course he had to go at to the crabs first. He watched them fascinated. “Do you knew that crabs aren`t that stupid as everyone thinks? They have complex learning abilities and a spatial memory. It has been scientifically proven that they can find their way even in a labyrinth.” “Oh really? How have they prove it?” You asked him and watched how his eyes began to shine when he explained you ‪the experiment‬ and you went to the next Aquarium. “Last month I read an article about dolphins memory. It is similar to that of humans.” he chaired his knowledge with you. “I also read something like that. Dolphins can still remember former companions after more than 20 years,” you answered. It wasn`t strange to talk about topics like that. You loved his knowledge and that you learned so much new information. He gave you a soft smile and kissed your fingers softly before he put an arm around your shoulder. It made you realise how happy you were.

Seokjin

“You look so beautiful princess,” he told you when you walked down the stairs and stood in front of him. You wore your new blue dress you bought few days before. The heart cut-out underlined you Décolleté perfectly and your long hair fell over your shoulders in curls. He made you blush with his comment and you smiled shyly. “Thank you, I was scared that you don´t like the dress because one time you said that you prefer light colours.” “Even when I told you this it didn´t mean that you weren´t allowed to wore something dark. Also it match perfectly with you eye colour. I like it a lot,” he pulled you towards him to connect your lips. “I have something for you. I found it in London and it reminded me of you.” He pulled a rectangular box out of his jacket pocket and opened it carefully. The content let you took a sharp breath. It was a necklace with a butterfly which was decorated with little decent sparkling stones. It was really beautiful. Softly you stroke with your fingertips over the pendant. “It is really beautiful Jinnie, but it looks like it cost a fortune. You know that I don´t want you to spend so much money on me.” “Yes I know it, that is a reason why I love you. You are not interested in my money and that doesn't let me hesitate when I want to buy a gift for my princess.” He took the necklace from the box and you turned around that he could put it around your neck. You felt the pleasant coldness of the metal on your Décolleté and his fingertips which stroke gently your hair away from your neck so that he could close the gap. Slowly you turned towards him. “And how do I look?” You asked him with a bright smile. “Handsome as her boyfriend. The prize for the handsomest couple on earth goes to us,” he laughed loud and you playfully punch his arm. “Are we ready to leave?” You asked him. He gave you his arm so you can hook up with him. Together you went to his car. You two wanted to spent the evening at a new restaurant which celebrated his opening today. It was the first evening together after he was back from his tour. Three month you didn´t saw each other so you couldn´t really believe it that he was finally back home now. You often didn´t know for how long it was so you enjoyed every moment together. When you arrived the car he opened the door for you but before you could enter he held you by your arm. You looked at him questioningly and he cupped your face between his hands and his thumb stroke softly above your cheek. You leaned into his touch. “I`m really happy that I`m home now. I really missed you princess.” “I`m also happy that you are by my side again, I love you.”

Yoongi

The sun shined in your face caused you to blink. Tired you pulled the blanket above your head and groaned. It couldn´t be later than half past eight and that was really early for you. You turned around to the other side of your bed, but it was still empty. You sighed and stroke with your finger tips above the sheets. Another night where he didn't came home. It was normal that he spent one or two nights a week in his studio but now it was the third night in a row. You slid to his side and cuddled your face into his pillow inhaled his smell which was still on it. Slowly your eyes closed and you fell back to sleep. The second time this morning you were awakened but this time it was because someone pecked your lips softly. You opened your eyes slowly and looked in the dark eyes of your boyfriend. “Yoongi, you`re home,” you smiled and pulled him closer to you. “I´m sorry I have left you alone the last few days but there was so much to do.” “It is okay, I know how busy you are. You don´t have to explain anything. I´m glad that you are home now,” you kissed him softly and he put his hand on your neck because he knew how much you loved this. Your lips moved tender against each other and you felt how his tongue against your bottom lip which let you sighed. He ended the kiss with another short peck and said: “As much as I want to do things with you now but then the breakfast will get cold.” You smiled because it was a long time ago since you two could ate breakfast together. Often you had to wake up very early, to early for him. You stood up and went with him to the kitchen where he set the table with all things he knew you loved. It was a breakfast like you knew it from your home country. So the table was full with bread rolls, croissants, marmalade, cheese and so on. You eyes grew big. It was really difficult to find these things in Korea because it was really untypical to eat these things for breakfast. It was a lot of work to organized something like this. “Yoongi, where did you got all this?” “Near our studio opened a international supermarket so one part I bought there. Yeah, that was the easiest. For the other things I searched through the net and the croissants I made on my own. I hope they are good.” You hugged him tight. “Thank you so much.” “You know that I love you, right?” he said a little bit shy. It wasn´t often that he said these magical three words. So you knew that it meant a lot for him to say it to you. “Yes, I know it. I love you as well.” The next half an hour you spent together eating and talking about the things you missed. When you started to tidy up the kitchen your gaze felt on the calender and you noticed the date. You looked to Yoongi and watch him cleaning the table. You smiled softly. Valentinsday wasn`t important for you. Anyway it made you happy that even when Yoongi wasn´t the cheesy type of boyfriend he showed you his feelings with these little gesture on a day which stood for everything about love. You went to him and pull him close to you. “Soo now where we are ready, what do you think? Do you wanna go shower with me?” You asked him in a deeper voice. “Good suggestion and I promise you it's not just gonna be about taking a shower.” You smiled and dragged him towards the bathroom.

Hoseok

Thank god it`s Friday! That was a horror week. You loved your job as a teacher but sometimes it was hair-raising. Especially when they plotted against you and there was no other solution then gave them detention. That turned in angry parents which called you late in the evening and told you how incompetent you were. You did well not to spent much thoughts about that but sometimes it caught up with you, like today. You entered the apartment and leaned yourself with your back against the door, fought against the emerging tears. “Jagiya? Everything fine?” You heart your boyfriend called. “I`m fine,” you tried to say but your voice betrayed you. Hobi came with fast steps out of the living room. “Sunshine, what happened? Why do you cry? I don´t want you to be so upset.” “It will be over in a minute, I promised.” He cupped your face between his hands and stroke carefully your tears away. “Whatever it is, it isn't as bad as you thought. You know what? I let you in a hot bath and then you told me everything. Okay? How sounds that?” You tried to smile. “Thank you, that would be great.” He dragged you to the living room and told you to wait until the bath is ready. You loved his caring type. He noticed every time when you are sad or didn´t feel good and he always knew exactly what he could do to make you feel better. After a few minutes he called you. “Jagi, the bath is recessed.” Slowly you entered the bathroom where he waited and helped you to undress. You sighed when you got into the tub because the hot water made your muscles relax. You leaned back and closed your eyes. Hobi took a sponge and let the warm water ran over your shoulders. “Do you wanna tell my what made you so upset?” He asked after a while when he noticed you got calmer and you began to tell about your horrible week. He was a great listener and never gave you the felling that what you were saying was shit. Hobi understood your thoughts. “I know it was right to keep them in detention and I also know that there exist always people which aren´t pleased with me. I don´t know exactly why it made me so upset,” you explained after you told him the whole story. “I know you do a great Job Sunshine and being a teacher isn´t always easy. So sometimes your body needs this time off and he needs to cry so that all pent-up emotions can be released.” He kissed you softly and you sighed. “Thank you for listening. I`m so sorry that I was so upset especially on Valentinsday.” “You don´t have to apologize for you emotions and I´m here for you with pleasure, Jagi,” he gave you a soft kiss and made you smile. How lucky could you be having such a caring and lovely boyfriend like him? “So what do you mean? Wanna put on our pyjamas and cuddle on the bed?” He asked you. “Nothing would make me happier.”

#bts #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts reactions #namjoon #hoseok #j-hope #hobi x reader #yoongi #bts suga #rapmonster #btsfluff

73 notes · View notes

voldemorthatesnose96 · 4 years

Text

ABRUPT

My second “first meet” AU of SOBBE. Please enjoy❤️❤️❤️

“Happy birthday to me... happy birthday to me... happy birthday dear Robbe... happy birthday to me...”

A lonely brunette hair guy blows the candle on his birthday cake—well, it’s not actually a cake but a single chocolate cupcake he bought earlier after walking from the morning shift at the mini market. Today is his 20th birthday and Robbe IJzermans is celebrating alone, again. His friends back home and his parents are congratulating him, of course, but it doesn’t feel the same when they’re all together.

Robbe is an exchanged student from Belgium and been studying at University of Central Florida (UCF) for two years now. Time goes too fast, and there isn’t a single moment passed without him missing home and everything.

It’s only eight in the morning. Even though, his body is tired but his mind is restless. Robbe’s already know this kind of situation. There won’t be any use if he’s trying to get some sleep. So instead, after eating his cupcake, he grabs the jacket, backpack and leave his humble flat—suddenly have this idea of going to the theme park and treat himself there.

———————————

It takes more than two hours by train from his flat to Universal Studios, and when he’s finally get there, he whispers to the air, “home!” and smiles to himself as his feet enters the theme park.

Robbe ALWAYS love the theme park, any kind of it; probably the second favorite place in the world besides the local caffe near the college. His inner child screams in utter joy whenever he sees rides such as roller coaster, haunted house—basically, everything.

Wizarding World of Harry Potter is the place where he can NEVER EVER get bored. So many things to do, too many things to buy, but he always saves the rides for later. For now, he just needs to take a walk for a bit to clears his mind. Not many people comes at this hour, so it’s a good thing.

After buying a cold butterbeer, Robbe’s first plan is to see the castle and takes a selfie (if he brave enough).

“Ah, what a beauty!” Robbe says while admiring the Hogwarts Castle from afar. He knows he’s a Hufflepuff through and through but would it be so much more amazing if this school actually exists in real life? A guy can dream.

When he’s satisfy enough looking at the magical castle, Robbe continue his walking to the ice cream parlour. When he’s almost there, for the tenth time since he got there, Robbe stumbles over his own feet and.... he accidentally trips his drink over someone’s t-shirt and also knocks down theirs.

“SHIT SHIT SHIT! I AM SO SORRY! SO SORRY!” He panicks without looking at the person. “I DON’T HAVE TISSUE! SO SO SO SORRY! I STUMBLED OVER MY FEET! YOUR DRINK IS FELL TOO! I’M SO STUPID! SORRY SORRY SORRY! I WILL—“

“Dude, stop!”

Robbe’s body freeze for couple seconds after he looks up and sees a guy around his age, wearing black everything but his bleached hair is making a beautiful contrast to the appearance. This guy’s looking... handsome? Devilishly handsome? In a way; and he’s looking rather pissed.

I’m dead, Robbe thought.

“I’m so sorry. I accidentally—“

“Yeah yeah, I heard you before. You accidentally stumbled over your feet, I know. I’m not deaf. But now what’re you gonna do to fix this? This clothes is expensive. Can you buy me another one?”

Robbe is super embarrassed right now. Cursed his feet and his too-clumsy nature!

“Look, I can make everything’s right again, okay?” He finally manage to find his voice and courage. “I can wash your t-shirt, even your jeans and buy you another drink. But please, forgive me! I’m sorry!”

Not long after, the bleached hair guy snorts and laughs loud; he’s too loud, almost everyone looking at them now.

“OH MY GOD, YOU SHOULD SEE YOUR FACE! YOU LOOK TERRIFIED. SMILE A LITTLE, DUDE! IT WAS JUST A JOKE!”

“W-what?” Robbe asks, genuinely confused.

“This fucking t-shirt isn’t expensive,” the bleached hair guy says after he finally manages to calm himself from laughter. “In fact, I wanted to burn it.”

“But why? It’s nice.”

“Nope, you should buy me a cup of stracciatella ice cream then I’ll talk.”

Robbe can’t believe this weird guy; a total stranger, a little bit bossy but also exciting at the same time can stunned him easily. Feels like there’s an invisible sign above his head that speaks “DANGER!” but to hell with this—it’s still his birthday and no danger will be happened at the theme park, as far as he knows.

“Yeah, okay.” Robbe says as he follows the handsome stranger to the ice cream parlour.

Robbe almost trips when the bleached guy abruptly dead-stop in front of him.

“What is it?”

“Almost forgot,” he says, as he turns around and offers his hand. “Sander, 22, Juilliard student.”

Robbe takes Sander’s hand. It feels warm and strong in his, “Robbe, 20, exchanged student at University of Central Florida.”

Sander smirks, letting go the handshake, “cool. Come on, then!”

After they buy some ice creams and eat them on the spot, both agree to ride a Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey after this.

While they walking side by side, Robbe says, “now that I’m finally bought you an ice cream, mind to tell why you wanted to burn your clothes?”

Sander doesn’t answer for a minute or two. But when they walking pass the souvenir shop and Robbe’s being a little distracted by the wizard hat in the window, Sander says.

“Because my girlfriend gave it to me,” then he adds. “Well, an ex now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be,” Sander shakes his head. His voice is surprisingly calm and playful still. “She was cheating on me. Here, at this very park.”

“ARE YOU FOR REAL?!” Robbe absentmindedly yell but quickly compose himself. “I mean, what? Here? That’s not possible!”

“But it IS possible, Robbe.”

“I’m sorry...”

“Stop saying that!” Sander giggles. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m glad I could finally get rid of her!”

“Can we... can we just sit somewhere and talk?”

Robbe doesn’t know where he gets the idea but one thing for sure, he also have the need to pour his heart out too to this guy. They may just know each other less than 2 hours, but... don’t know, but Robbe’s already trust Sander; something that never happen with anybody else, ever. And mostly, he feels that Sander need someone to talk to, even though his exterior speak otherwise.

“Because it’s you, I’ll do it.”

Wait, what? What does it mean because it’s me? Robbe thought, feeling bewildered but doesn’t mind.

“Before I continue,” Sander says after they finally sit at the cafetaria. It’s so crowded now, that they have to wait for almost 15 minutes to get a seat. “Do you think I’m a bad person for saying those things?”

“About?”

“That I’m happy for getting rid of her.”

Robbe shakes his head and smiling softly, “not at all. I swear.”

“Okay, then,” Sander sighs in relief. “We’ve been together for nearly a year now. Ups and downs, of course. But never in my life, even for a second that I thought she’d cheated on me,” he sips his iced-tea before continuing. “Like I said before, I’m a Juilliard student, that’s in New York and she’s in USF, which means we had a long distance relationship. You can still keep up, right?”

Robbe nods, not saying anything.

“Long story short, I just got here yesterday and we’re supposed to have fun today blablabla... then when I came back from the restroom, she was supposed to wait for me near the giant globe but she was nowhere to be seen. Was looking for her for nearly half an hour when I accidentally saw her french-kissed this asshole near the haunted house. Well, I took a pic of them, sent her that and said ‘wow! A public porn!’. She still had the audacity to sent “I CAN EXPLAIN, OK?!” but I blocked her number after that. The end. Happily ever after.”

“Wow...”

Sander gives him a mocking snorts, “that’s it? Just wow? What’s wow about that?”

“Um, sorry. No, of course it’s not a wow. Not that kind of wow. It’s just,” Robbe takes a deep breath to calm himself. Damn this nervousness! “I can’t believe someone actually did that. Cheating and everything.”

Sander lets a huff and rolls his eyes, “but some people could. But enough about me. Let’s talk about you.”

Robbe is a bit perplexed by the sudden change of topic, “me?”

Sander smirks while pierce his stares at him, “only you.”

Why does everything he said does something weird to my heart and stomach??? Robbe thought with annoyance.

“What do you wanna know, then? Ask away!”

“Why are you here alone?”

“Because I want to.”

“Give me a better answer, Robbe.” Sander mocks.

Robbe gulps. He plays his thumbs as self-assurance that what he’s going to say next isn’t that embarrassing.

“Well, today’s actually my birthday and I’m celebrating alone for 2 years now. I’m from Belgium, by the way. I always miss it and my friends.”

Looks like there’s only single information that Sander catch because he says “happy birthday” without making any comment about other things.

After saying that, he smiles as his hand ruffling Robbe’s hair. This gesture make Robbe’s heart beats even faster than before. But it’s only a friendly gesture, right? Like what big brother usually do to his little brother? Or as a friend. Right? No matter what is, he likes it too much to care.

“Thanks.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

Robbe laughs at this, “no.”

“Boyfriend?”

“No but I’d love to.”

Sander’s green eyes widen, “so, you’re a...”

“Gay, yep!”

“Good for you,” Sander grins. “But did you realise that you just come out to a stranger?”

“You’re not a stranger anymore,” Robbe mumbles shyly as he holds his glass tighter. “I trust you, Sander.”

Both are silent for few minutes before Sander taking off a necklace around his neck and place in Robbe’s palm. It’s a gold necklace with a mini violin as the pendant.

“Yes?” Robbe asks, utterly confused. His brain’s momentarily has stopped working when their hands touch once again, but this time they linger.

“This is your present.”

“For what?”

“For your birthday, dummy!” Sander says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“No, Sander. I can’t! This is too expensive!” Robbe yelps but the bleached hair guy holds his hand even tighter.

“I need you to keep it!” He demands, “my mom gave it to me for my 4th birthday. It’s for a good luck and now it’s yours.”

“But—”

“I gave it to you, okay? Keep it,” Sander cuts him. “Or if you still insist, give it back to me when we meet again next time.”

“What?”

“I’m having a solo concert at Juilliard in two months. Would you be there?”

At this point, Robbe can never say no to him. Probably ever. He doesn’t know the reason why, but he’s certain that this sudden friendship will turn into something more. Hopefully. God, is he already whipped for someone he just met today?

“Are you gonna play a violin?”

“Yes,” Sander beams. “So? Would you?”

“I’d love to.”

“You promise?”

It’s true that they just met, it’s true that both doesn’t know each other that well yet, it’s true that this is quite abrupt but who would’ve thought, behind Sander’s devil-may-cry attitude, there’s an innocent and child-like insecurity? And Robbe is more than happy to get to know more about this special person.

This time, Robbe place his hand on top of Sander’s hand and whisper gently, “I promise.”

He isn’t sure how it’s gonna be, where it’s gonna lead but just them being like this—it’s more than enough. It left unsaid, but both already understand.

And that’s all that really matters.

#wtfock #wtfam #my edit #fanfic

61 notes · View notes

wistfulcynic · 5 years

Text

On What They Fall 1 /4

SO this began life as a drabble. It was a teeny-tiny idea that I wrote on my phone in the middle of the night that grew and grew and GREW so now it is two chapters. And that is ALL. Because I can’t do any more than that. And also because then @thisonesatellite has to buy me a bottle of whisky 🥃. Heh heh.

SUMMARY: Killian Jones is an angry young man. He has no family and few friends, and he’s stuck in a small town where everyone views him with fear and suspicion.

Everyone but Emma Swan.

She’s everything he wants in life and everything he can’t have. What he doesn’t know is that she wants him too.

Part 9 of Secret Things.

(There are hints at attempted suicide here, just light references but be aware if this is a trigger for you)

Rated: T

On AO3

Tagging some folks who might enjoy it: @kmomof4, @stahlop, @mariakov81, @teamhook, @resident-of-storybrooke, @darkcolinodonorgasm, @shireness-says, @thejollyroger-writer, @ohmightydevviepuu (Give me a shout if you’d like a tag for Chapter 2 THE FINAL CHAPTER)

On What They Fall:

It’s past one in the morning when she arrives at the bar where he’s drinking, a dingy little dive near the harbour. Young women rarely frequent it unless they mean business, which is one of the reasons he goes there. She though, she, with her hair and her face and her body in that soft pink dress, she stands out like… like an inflamed digitus primus manus.

She’d laugh if he said that to her, he thinks.

(Like a what now?

A sore thumb, Swan.

Well, why can’t you just say that?)

One a.m., he thinks. Not her birthday anymore.

Her eyes find him the minute she walks through the door. He’s slouching against the bar, all lean limbs and nonchalance, his eyes on the game of pool going on in the corner. Her mouth goes dry at the sight of him, as it always does.

She wipes her palms on her skirt and makes her approach.

“Hey, Killian.”

He turns and a small smile quirks the corners of his mouth, crinkles the edges of his eyes. It looks involuntary.

“Swan,” he replies.

She swallows hard as his voice seems to stroke her, sends a shiver up her spine. “Hi.” She attempts a smile. “I’m, uh, back for the weekend.”

“So I see,” he says, pushing himself upright in one liquid motion. “Happy birthday.”

She tries not to read anything into the fact that he remembered. If he did remember. If he didn’t just deduce it from her presence here in the bar she was too young to enter until yesterday. She tries, but the hope in her heart doesn’t listen.

“Thanks,” she says.

He takes a small box out of his jacket pocket, square and flat and tied with a red ribbon that’s slightly crushed. He holds it out to her like a challenge.

“What— what’s this?”

There’s tension in his smile now, a brittle stiffness in his posture. “It’s a present, Swan, surely you’ve seen them before,” he snarks. “Quite a few of them I shouldn’t wonder.”

He’s deflecting, she thinks. He’s embarrassed to be offering her something.

She understands him far better than he thinks.

She takes the box from him with a shy smile and he relaxes just a fraction, but when she starts to untie the ribbon he almost lunges forward to stop her, letting his fingers brush hers just lightly before he yanks his hand away again. His fist clenches at his side. “Don’t open it here,” he says quietly.

“Why no—”

“Just, please, Swan. Don’t.”

“Okay.” She tucks the box into her bag and starts to ask him how he’s been when from the corner of her eye she sees a petite brunette waving at him from the pool table. He nods at her and gives her a wink, and the smile he directs at Emma turns dismissive. No, she thinks, feeling desperate. Not yet. He can’t leave now, it’s too soon, she’s barely seen him. She’s been looking forward to this for weeks and he’s just going to ditch her after a two minute conversation?

“If you’ll excuse me, Swan,” he says, but she doesn’t move.

“Another one, then,” she sniffs, letting her eyes flick towards the pool table.

His eyes are shuttered, defensive. “Aye,” he growls, “What of it?”

“Nothing, nothing.” She attempts to walk back from her catty remark. “It’s just... well, I guess it must be fun, all the attention. Women falling all over you wherever you go. But don’t you ever think—” She’s had a few drinks in other bars, liquid courage to help her come here and speak to him, and it loosens her tongue a bit too much. “Don’t you want to fall in love?”

His mouth twists. “I am in love,” he says harshly. The words seem wrenched from him. “For all the bloody good it does me.”

She starts to laugh, but then she sees his face. “You’re serious!”

He smirks. Her heart clenches, stumbles in a chest that’s gone painfully tight as the room seems to shrink around her. Of course she knows he sleeps around, he has since they were teenagers and never bothered to hide it. She’s even teased him about it, burying her hurt in humour and clinging to the small consolation that with her, with them, it’s different. He talks to her, sometimes for hours, and she’s always thought that maybe… once he stops being so angry at the world… maybe they might find their way to each other. She’s prepared to wait for him, for as long as it takes. But this… this she didn’t see coming.

“Who is she?” Emma asks, and her voice sounds so small.

His is flat, emotionless. “Someone who will never return my affections,” he says.

“So that’s why you...” She gestures at the brunette.

“Aye.”

“Does it help?”

“Not really.”

“Then why don’t you stop?”

He laughs, bitter and angry. “And do what instead? Sit at home and think about her? Fantasise about all the things I want and can’t ha—” he cuts himself off.

“You could—”

“Swan, please. I really don’t wish to discuss this with you. Just let me do my ‘man-whoring’ as you so charmingly call it, in peace.”

She puts her hand on his arm, holding her breath so he won’t hear how much touching him affects it. His arm is warm even through his jacket, the muscles hard beneath her fingers. Her heart tries to beat clear out of her chest. “I regret I ever said that,” she whispers.

He shrugs. “It’s okay. It’s the truth.”

He sounds breathless, and his jaw is tense. He pulls away from her touch, steps back. Gives her a small, mocking bow. “See you around, Swan,” he smirks. She stands for a minute, groping desperately for calm, and when she goes to look for him again both he and the brunette are gone.

She opens his present in bed, curled under the blankets in a private cocoon. It’s a pendant, a delicate rendering of a swan in silver filigree. It’s gorgeous. Her fingers tremble as she removes the necklace she’s worn for years, the one her high school boyfriend gave her. She has no idea why she’s kept it this long, perhaps as a reminder that sometimes when you think someone’s an asshole it’s because he is. She replaces it with Killian’s gift, then closes her fist around it and lets her tears fall. She would have been so happy receiving this just a few hours ago, she thinks. This thoughtful, personal gift. But now that she knows he’s in love, it feels like something he’d give a little sister, not a woman he might someday… but she can’t finish that thought.

She seeks him out the next day, down at the docks where he’s working on his boat. An old wreck of a thing he bought on his twenty-first birthday, one he’s been working to fix up for nearly two years.

“Are you ever going to be done with that?” she calls.

He grins, bright as the sunlight. “A ship is always a work in progress, Swan,” he says, patting the mast fondly. “But she’ll be seaworthy soon enough.”

She comes on deck and as she approaches his eyes land on the pendant, framed by the low neck of her shirt. Something flashes across his face, gone in the blink of an eye but she sees it, and she hopes again.

“I came to thank you for this,” she says, brushing her fingertips over the swan. “It’s beautiful.”

He shoves one hand into his jeans pocket, waves the other one dismissively. “It’s nothing,” he says.

“It’s not nothing, Killian, it was very thoughtful—”

His hand closes into a fist. “Don’t make a big deal of it,” he snarls. She doesn’t recoil. It’s always there, this anger, tightly coiled inside him and just waiting for a trigger. She’s used to it. She gives it time to recede, which it does, quickly, leaving him looking contrite. “I’m glad you like it,” he whispers.

“I love it.” I love you.

They stand in silence for a moment as he looks at his feet and she tries to will him to stop, to look at her instead. When he doesn’t she sighs. “I’m going back to school this afternoon,” she says. “I’ll be home again at Thanksgiving.”

“Perhaps I’ll see you then,” he mumbles.

He doesn’t look at her as she gets back in her car and drives away.

When she’s gone Killian kicks a coil of rope and then a bucket, then slumps against the boat’s rail, pounding it with his fist as he presses the heel of his other hand against his aching chest. He didn’t really think through how it would look, giving her that pendant. What she or anyone else might read into the gesture. He thought only that it was beautiful and she should have it. She deserves every beautiful thing, and it’s so rare he has a chance to offer her one.

He hopes she won’t tell her father who gave it to her. The sheriff is hostile enough as it is.

When Killian first came to Storybrooke his anger was sharper, more volatile. Fresh from losing first his brother and then his parents, with no close family left and still eight months shy of his eighteenth birthday, he’d found himself unceremoniously deposited on the doorstep of his distant cousin Belle, a woman hardly older than he was himself, in a small American town where everything from his clothes to his accent to his furious grief seemed to offend people. His first day at school three boys followed him home, taunting him, and before he could think he lashed out with fury and with his fists. He wasn’t big or particularly strong, but he knew how to fight and how to do it dirty and he laid all three out flat in the middle of Main Street with almost the whole town watching. All of them, staring at him with expressions of horror and disgust, all plainly writing him off as a violent troublemaker who would come to no good.

All but one. Emma Swan never looked at him with anything but compassion, with understanding, like he was someone who mattered— even when her father hauled him away to spend the night in a holding cell.

She appeared in the sheriff’s station hours later, bearing a cup of cocoa and an extra blanket. “It gets cold in here at night,” she said, offering them to him through the bars of the cell.

Killian stared at her, waiting for the punch line, but she just smiled. “Go on,” she said. “Trust me, you’ll need them both.”

Trust me. He took them, his fingers brushing hers around the warm paper cup. He blamed the shock, the comedown from adrenaline, the soul-deep exhaustion and the terrible fear that he’d fucked everything up completely when he’d only been in this town a day, for the next words that came out of his mouth.

“Are you an angel?”

She laughed. “No. I’m Emma, the sheriff’s daughter. Emma Swan.” She held out her hand again, this time for him to shake. He did, and felt the shock of the contact to the tips of his toes. Emma’s eyes grew wide and her smile softened, and when she withdrew her hand she held his heart in it.

He doesn't see Emma again until Christmas, when she and her friends return to his bar. Graham spots them instantly, sitting up straighter and waving them over, his face lit up with pleasure. Killian struggles not to envy the other man’s freedom to smile at Emma, to laugh and tease her. Graham is one of his few friends —too new in town to have any preconceptions about ‘that Jones boy’ and from the correct side of the pond, albeit the unfashionable side of the Irish Sea, Killian jokes when he wants to rile Graham a bit—but he’s also the Sheriff’s favourite deputy and a man that David would clearly welcome into his family with open arms, if the smile on his face whenever Emma and Graham are together is any indication.

Graham greets Emma with a hug and a Merry Christmas, which she returns warmly. Killian’s jealousy is acid in his gut but he swallows it down, gives Emma a stiff nod and stands to go, to find someplace where he won’t be a third wheel. When Emma puts her hand on his arm to stop him he barely suppresses a flinch. Her touch burns him, makes him yearn for things that can never be his, and he is terrified of what he might do if it goes on too long. Carefully, he pulls away to just beyond her reach and hates himself for the hurt that flashes in her eyes. She tries so hard to be his friend, it’s not her fault he wants far more than friendship from her.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” she attempts to tease him.

He shrugs. “Just thought I’d give you two a chance to catch up.”

“I saw Graham at Thanksgiving,” says Emma, and the acid threatens to choke him. Of course she did. Of course Graham was invited to her family’s celebration. “I haven’t seen you since my birthday. How have you been?”

“Same as always, Swan, nothing ever changes for me,” he replies, trying not to let the bitterness choke him. “I go to work, help Belle at the library, fix my boat. That’s the extent of my existence.”

She looks like she wants to hug him and he takes a step back, fights the urge to flee. He’ll never fathom why she finds him worth talking to, why she continually seeks him out. It was different when she lived in Storybrooke, they had things to talk about then, but now she’s in college and her world has opened up while Killian’s remains the same narrow slog through the days and weeks and years of pointless grind that’s all he has to look forward to in life. He can’t think of anything to say to her now.

“I’m going to play some pool,” he says. “Happy Christmas, Swan.”

Emma fights her tears as she watches him go, pastes a smile on her face and turns back to Graham, whose bright, hopeful expression should be welcome but instead just makes her feel trapped. Her dad’s been dropping some less-than-subtle hints lately and she supposes she really should give Graham a chance. He's a great guy, sweet and funny, and she likes him a lot. He clearly likes her too, but he just doesn’t get her, doesn’t see her the way Killian does. Killian sees everything she is, and he understands all of it in a way that Graham and her friends and even her parents could never hope to.

He’s caught so deep in her heart she can’t extract him from it, not without ripping herself apart in the bargain. Not even to please her father.

But Killian is across the room determinedly ignoring her, and Graham is charming and funny and there, making her laugh and delighting her friends, and she likes him. When he asks her to dinner she hesitates, looks over to where Killian is leaning into a tall brunette, smiling his flirtatious smile as he toys with the ends of her hair. She swallows hard and pushes away her foolish hope. She says yes.

Graham is thrilled. He’ll pick her up tomorrow at seven, he says, and she agrees then leaves the bar before she can lose her hold on her tears. This is the right decision, she tells herself. Killian's in love with someone who is clearly not her; he doesn’t want her as she wants him and she has to accept it. She can’t keep keeping her hopes up when all he ever does is crush them.

Killian claps his friend on the back and listens to him enthuse about Emma, how beautiful and kind she is, how he’s never felt like this about anyone before. He keeps a smile plastered on his face and makes all the right noises, nods in all the right places until he can't take it anymore and he slips away, hunching his shoulders and stuffing his hands deep in his pockets as he walks home. His mind is in chaos and his heart feels raw. He has no idea what to do.

He buys a bottle of rum from the convenience store then goes home, sits down at the kitchen table and proceeds to drink the whole thing, one shot straight after another until the glass becomes a pointless waste of effort and he just drinks straight from the bottle. When it’s empty he takes out the half bottle he already had and finishes that off. Then he digs out the sambuca Belle got as a gift last Christmas. It’s still unopened. He drinks it all.

When Belle wakes up that morning she finds him sprawled on the floor, barely breathing. She calls an ambulance, clings to his hand as they race to the hospital. Killian’s eyes flutter open. “Belle,” he croaks.

“I’m here,” she whispers.

“Don’t— don’t call Emma,” Killian begs. “Please.”

Belle nods, understanding. “I won’t.”

At the hospital they pump his stomach. It saves his life, the doctor says. Acute alcohol poisoning can kill you.

“Shame it didn’t,” mutters Killian, and Belle looks at him sharply. She doesn’t think he did this on purpose but she’s not convinced it was wholly an accident.

“Killian I know you’re hurting but you have to stop doing this to yourself,” she insists, once the doctor has left. “Emma wouldn’t want—”

Killian pulls his hand from her grip. “Emma doesn’t give a damn,” he snaps.

“Now, you know that’s not true. She cares about you—”

He runs his hand over his face. “She’s a kind person, she cares about everyone. Not me in particular.”

Belle opens her mouth then closes it again. She’s tried to argue with him about this before but ultimately she knows there’s really no point— he’s got Emma on far too high a pedestal, he simply can’t believe she might love him.

And Belle knows from personal experience that he has to learn to love himself or he never will.

They keep Killian in the hospital overnight for observation. The next morning he’s released, and Belle comes to drive him home. Though they’re only very distant cousins she loves him like much closer family, calling him her ‘little nephew’ when he cheekily refers to her as his ‘Auntie Belle.’ He was only meant to stay with her until he turned eighteen, but by then they’d formed such a bond Belle offered to let him stay as long as he needed and he gratefully accepted. She doesn’t charge him rent but he insists on earning his keep, cleaning and cooking in addition to his job at the docks and his volunteer work at the library. He saves every penny he can and she knows one day he’ll leave. He was never meant to stay in Storybrooke forever.

When they drive by Granny’s Diner and see Emma and Graham walking through its front gate together, Belle senses from Killian’s blank face and tense shoulders that the moment of his departure might be soon.

When they get home she makes him sit down at the table and have breakfast, bacon and eggs and toast and strong coffee. He obediently eats it all, but his mind is clearly not on the food.

“I’ve finished the boat,” he says. “She’s ready to sail.”

“That’s great!”

“Yeah. I was thinking I might go.”

“Go where?”

He shrugs. “Just go. I’ve got enough money saved to last a while, if I keep things simple. I might just sail. No destination. See where the sea takes me,” he jokes with a faint smile.

Belle nods. She’ll miss him but she knows he needs this. He needs something to help him see what he’s worth, and Storybrooke will never provide it.

Killian continues, his voice strained. “I just can’t bear to see Emma... to see her... I want her to be happy,” he says fiercely. “She deserves that. She deserves someone like Graham who has so much to offer her, and who her family likes. I just— I can’t watch it. I can accept that she doesn’t feel as I do. But I can’t watch her fall in love with someone else. I have to go.”

“I agree,” says Belle.

“You do?”

“Yes. Storybrooke is my place, but I’ve always known it’s not yours. You’re always welcome here of course, but you have to go and discover what more the world holds for you. You have to find out who you are, Killian, because this…” she gestures at his wrinkled clothes and hunched shoulders, “…this isn’t it. You’re so much better than this.”

He snorts. “I’m really not.”

“You are. I’ve always believed that. Now go find a way to believe it yourself.”

Killian leaves at sunrise the next morning. He doesn’t say goodbye. It’s Belle who tells Emma he’s gone, watches as her face goes deathly pale and tears slowly fill her eyes until they overflow and pour in rivulets down her ashen cheeks. She doesn’t make a sound.

Finally she whispers, “He left?”

Belle nods.

Emma’s voice drops until it’s nearly inaudible. “Is he coming back?”

Belle answers truthfully. “I don’t know.”

Tears cascade down Emma’s face and drip off her chin, leaving splotches on her blouse. She doesn’t notice. “How,” she whispers. “How could he… why…”

Belle is torn. Killian’s feelings aren’t for her to share, but it’s so obvious his leaving has broken Emma’s heart and Belle’s heart breaks for her. She has to give Emma something.

“Killian… he has some things to sort out,” she says. “A lot of anger. Unhealed scars from his childhood.”

“His brother,” says Emma automatically. Belle is surprised, she had no idea Killian told Emma about Liam.

“Yes,” she says. “And his parents.” Emma nods in understanding; so she knows that story too. “He just—” Belle thinks of how to say what Emma needs to hear without saying it. “He doesn’t have anything to offer another person right now.”

“He does,” says Emma fiercely. “He just doesn’t believe it.”

Belle studies the younger woman closely as realisation begins to dawn, wondering how Killian could possibly be so blind. She’s always known Emma cares for her nephew more than he is able to see, but this— this is a love as deep as Killian’s own. She tries to think of something to say, some comforting platitude to give, when Emma speaks again and floors her. “He wants to get away from her, doesn’t he?” She spits the pronoun with so much venom Belle is alarmed by the shift in her mood.

“Who?” she asks.

“The woman he loves.”

“He told you he’s in love with someone?” Killian, it seems, has revealed rather a lot of very personal things to this woman he claims could never be interested in him.

“Yeah.” Emma’s face crumples and she finally sobs. “He did. Do you know who it is?”

Belle can’t lie, not about this. “Yes,” she says. “But it’s not—”

“Not your secret to tell. I get it. But is she the reason why he…”

“Yes,” Belle replies. “To a large extent she is.”

Emma nods, sobbing harder, and her nose begins to drip. She sniffs and looks around for something to wipe it, and gratefully accepts the handkerchief Belle hands her. She dries her tears —for all the good it does as they don’t stop falling— and blows her nose then looks helplessly at the sodden mess of cloth in her hand.

“Keep it,” says Belle. “It’s one of Killian’s.” She doesn’t miss the way Emma’s fingers tighten on the small scrap of fabric.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and presses the handkerchief against her heart.

Killian, my lad, you’ve fucked things up something proper, thinks Belle.

#cs fic #cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan #angst #mutual pining #secret love #pining idiots #idiots in love #for real you'll want to bang their heads together #a bit modern au captain duckling #sort of #Emma is raised by her parents in Storybrooke #and Killian is very angry #on what they fall #profdanglaisstuff

115 notes · View notes

everlastingdreams · 5 years

Text

BETA John Constantine x Reader : Heaven And Hell Chapter 1

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Summary: The reader has been travelling alone for a while now, running from her demons. When soon she finds herself dealing with real ones. At first she appears to be just a psychic, but as time passes John finds himself wondering if that is all she is. The rising darkness is coming closer everyday, what part does she come to play ?

Notes: Damn, the start is always hard to write isn’t it ? This is just the very first chapter of this story. I will follow the whole damn show lol Also, this is the beta.

Chapter: 1/?

Word count: 7056

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Water splashed beneath your feet as you walked home in a fast pace. You had spend some time with your friends after school and lost track of time. You were expected home soon. It was spring time so luckily it wasn't dark soon and the walk home was only a few minutes and there was always a lot of people on the street that you knew since you you were very little. It could be a bit awkward for your 10 year old self when Gerda from the newspaper stand would pinch your cheek when she saw you walk by, but at least you felt safe knowing there was always someone making sure you were getting home safely.

You started walking on the last street to your home and checked your watch for the time again. When you looked up you noticed how a man was sitting on the ground, in the rain, his hand outstretched to all the passer-by's. He pleaded to each of them and all ignored his existence.

You thought about crossing the street as you were taught to do but you didn't feel unsafe here so you decided to keep walking on this side.

When you finally reached the man on the ground, you stopped. He didn't stretch his hand out to you as he kept his head low. You reached in the pockets of your jacket and took out the small amount of coins you owned. Your family wasn't rich, often the opposite, but seeing someone in the pouring rain and turning a blind eye wasn't something you wanted to do.

You stretched your hand out to him while you held the coins “Excuse me, sir.”

He looked up, a little suprised.

You nodded to your hand holding the coins.

His eyes fell on the coins before he looked up at you again “Are you sure, child ? You could buy yourself something to eat with this.”

You were suprised by his manner of speech and his reaction. You were hungry, however. But this person was clearly going through worse things then just hunger. And maybe all you could do was help him with that.

You gave him a nod “I'll be fine” and you let the coins fall into his hand.

“Thank you.” he said quietly and you turned, walking away again before you would be home late.

“Child !” the man called for you and you walked back to him. He stretched out his closed hand and nodded to it. You opened your hand and he let a necklace slide into your small hands. That suprised you. On the necklace was a round pendant it had a cross and angel wings on it, the rest was unclear to you and when you turned it around it had, what looked like skeletons, crawling over stuff. You turned the pendant over a couple of times before you looked down to the man again and you stretched your hand out, wanting to give it back to him.

He shook his head and chuckled a little as he took hold of your hand and closed it, making you hold the pendant in your hand “Oh no, young one. You will need this.” His mouth twitched as if he wanted to smile but changed his mind.

“Why ?” you furrowed your brows, confused as to why someone who clearly needs more help would give away one of their few possesions.

“In time, we will need you.”

His explanation just confused you more “Who is 'we' ?” you asked politely.

He ignored your question “You should head home. You don't want your parents to worry about you.”

You nodded to the strange man, and put the necklace over your head as it was a bit too big for you for now.

“Thank you.” you quickly said and started walking again.

You were sure you were going to be late now, you walked a little faster and glanced at your watch and stopped when you saw the time.

It was like the watch hadn't moved the entire time you spoke with the man. You checked and saw that the watch was still working as it finally ticked to the next minute. You looked behind you and saw that the man was no longer sitting on the ground. He was gone, as if he was never even there in the first place. The only thing that helped you believe that it wasn't a dream was the necklace around your neck.

Years later...

You were driving down the last bit of the dirt road you had been following for about 2 minutes. The place you were called to was a former farmhouse, no farming was done there anymore however. It wasn't the first time someone had heard about your 'gifts', even when you tried to keep a low profile word still got around. The man who had called you heard about you through a local priest that you had once met with. The man had spoken to the priest about his strange problems concerning his house, the priest had tried to help him but was unsuccesfull.

The man had called you, asking if you would be able to help. He was hearing things but only inside the house. Scratching and sometimes whispers. Stuff would move as well. You could hear the fear in his voice through the phone. You agreed to meet him at his house to see if you could help him with his problem.

You pulled up on the driveway of the house. The man was waiting outside for you already and you walked up to him.

“Good afternoon, Mister Peterson. I'm y/n l/n.” you held out your hand.

He shook your hand “Good afternoon. Thank you for coming, please just call me Harold.”

You nodded “Alright, Harold. So this is the place ?” you tilted your head to the door.

He sighed deeply “Yeah.” he walked to the door and held it open for you, you stepped inside and almost immediately you could hear it.

“It's been doing that for the last hour again.”

“And you had people check for rats or other reasons, correct ?” you walked further in the house towards the noise.

“I did, they found nothing. No rats, no mice, no busted pipes, nothing.” he followed you into the kitchen where you stopped.

You had visited people's homes before, everytime it was just a spirit trying to seek contact with their loved ones. You had managed to send them all on their way when the familly had gotten their closure.

But this was different, the scratching wasn't something you would usually hear. Voices ? Yes. Shadows ? Yes . Scratching ? No.

You walked around the room a bit as the sound continued.

“When they came to check, they never heard it, the scratching I mean. Like it only makes itself known if it's just me.” Harold stood in the doorway.

You nodded, you had hear that one before. It could drive people insane and make them desperate. “They were never going to find anything. Or hear the scratching. Whatever is doing this, it's doing this to torment you. Drive you over the edge, isolate you, make you feel like you can't escape an invisible enemy.” you listened to the sound again.

“So..you think it's really a ghost ?” Harold swayed a little uncomfortable.

You clicked your tongue “I'm not sure. The scratching... it's not something I've heard before. It could be a malevolent spirit or-” you stopped yourself from saying the word, knowing it wasn't smart to cause the man more fear.

Before he could ask you about it, you spoke again “Please don't think that I am being rude, but I need to be alone in here for a bit. I can't really focus when someone is around, and I really need to be focused.”

Harold looked around the room before he stood upright “Uh.. alright.. I'll leave you to it then.” he paused for a second “Do I close the door ?” he asks.

You nodded “Yes, please. I'll call for you when I'm finished or if I have a question.”

He gave a short nod and closed the door. The moment the door was closed the scratching got louder as if it had been waiting for this moment. You couldn't really figure out where the sound was coming from exactly, only that it was coming from this room. You wondered if you could trigger a vision and stepped close to the wall. You reached for it but before you could place your hand on the wall of the room, Harold knocked on the door of the room.

“It's okay. You can come in.” you called out.

Harold opened the door a little, probably afraid to be face to face with a ghost, as he only poked his head past the door to look at you “Sorry, I didn't want to disturb you but there was a guy at the door and he insisted that he knew you. Said you two worked together.”

You frowned at that, you had no idea what Harold was talking about considering the fact that you always worked alone.

You stepped away from the wall “I'm afraid I don't- ”

The door opened wider and a man brushed past Harold rather rudely. You arched a brow at the blond-haired guy.

“'Scuse me, mate. Sorry I'm late to the party, luv. Traffic. You know how it goes.” he directed it to you as if you knew him. You obviously saw straight through his bullshit.

Harold was looking at him suspiciously and so were you.

“Look, I don't know-” you started to speak but the guy pulled a card from the pocket of his coat and handed it to you.

You stared at the card for a moment. Was this guy for real ?.. Did he seriously have a business card for this ?

“I don't know what entity is housing in this place either, but we'll figure it out. Won't we ?” he turned to you again, he was hoping you would play along.

You looked at him annoyed, this guy had the nerve to just burst into this place and interupt you.

You wanted to tell him to leave. But you looked at the card again and maybe, just maybe, this guy was for real.

“Sure thing.” you gave him your best fake smile, your eyes were probably shooting daggers. “Harold, we'll handle it from here. I'll call you when you can come in the room again.”

Harold gave a short nod and left the room again, closing the door behind him.

“So, Mister Constantine.” you flicked the card between your fingers “Wanna tell me why you're here ?” you weren't going to just act all friendly to a guy who just showed up and pulled you into a lie.

He turned to you in slight suprise “I was wondering the same about you, looks like we're here for the same reason, luv. No need to be afraid.”

You scoffed loudly at that “Let me make something clear here. I am not afraid of you..” you held up the card he had given you and took a few steps in his direction “Oh Master of the dark arts.” you mocked.

He looked at you for a moment, as if he wasn't sure how to react. Then he smirked “Not fond of competition, I see.”

You shook your head biting your tongue, you had a feeling he was arrogant the second he walked in and you were right to think so.

“This isn't a competition. Constantine.” you stepped closer to him “At least, not for me.” you lightly smacked your hand to his chest and let go of the card. He catched the card against his chest before it could fall.

“This is people's lives. I do this to help them. I'm not pissed at you because you might be better at this, I'm pissed because you waltzed in here, lying your ass off and I don't trust you. That and I was getting ready to solve the mystery that haunts this house, I don't like to be interupted when doing these things.” you kept your voice low as you spoke, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Ever heard of a scry map ?” he seemed reluctant to tell you this.

You arched a brow “ A what now ?”

He took a step towards you “A scry map. It detects supernatural activity in the city. If something is happening, the place on the map gets..highlighted. And this place lit up like a christmas tree.”

His explanation did sound trustworthy, you didn't know how else he could have even found out about this place or that it was haunted by something.

“So, what now ? I don't like to work with other people.” you shrugged and crossed your arms.

He smirked and you knew he clearly didn't plan on just leaving “I prefer to work alone myself, but I'm guessing were stuck in the situation, luv.”

"Why do you keep calling me 'luv' ? I got a name you know." "Wasn't able to pull that information out of ol' Harry when I was at the door. Just told him I knew ya, hoped he would mention your name but he didn't." he explained. "Hah, I thought we were friends ?" You fake pouted. He stood a little awkwardly and you felt bad for him "It's y/n l/n." "That will make things a bit easier, luv." This time you visibly rolled your eyes at him

Loud scratching close to your feet made you jump backwards, you looked to the floor but nothing was there.

Constantine took a few quick steps to you, his expression alarmed “What is it ? What's wrong ?” he looked to the floor as well.

“Did you hear that ??” you kept looking at the floor, scanning for whatever it was that cause it.

He focused on your face now, his eyes narrowing when he did “Hear what, luv ?”

You looked at him and realised that he had no idea what had just happened “The very loud scratching.. you didn't hear it ?”

He looked to the floor again “No. I didn't.” he looked back to you “But somehow you did, which makes me wonder..”

“What ?” you were still startled.

“Do you see or hear things often that other people don't ?” he looked around the room, scanning it as well.

“Are you trying to call me crazy ?” you calmed down a bit. Your annoyance with him was getting stronger then your fear.

He chuckled “I'm the last person who should be able to call you that, believe me. I meant, do you get visions, hear spirits ?”

You thought for a second, thinking about saying no, but then again this guy was an exorcist and what not. If you sounded crazy, so did he.

“I've been having them since I was very young. As I grew older, they grew stronger. More frequent.” you tried to shrug it off. It wasn't the first time you had told someone you could hear and see things.

“A psychic then.” he concluded “Not the type one should call when dealing with this.”

You narrowed your eyes at him “Are you saying that I can't handle this ?”

He walked around in the kitchen a bit “I'm saying you shouldn't handle this alone.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Then the scratching started again, this time close to where Constantine was standing. It didn't startle you this time and you marched to where he was standing.

He almost stumbled back at your quick pace “What-”

“Shut up.” you whispered as you kneeled and placed your hands on the wooden floor.

He understood what you were doing and kneeled down next to you, waiting for you to speak.

You didn't even have to focus much before you saw people, sitting together at the dinner table in this kitchen. A young woman and what looked like her boyfriend were in light conversation, laughing and smiling. You couldn't hear what they were saying.

You blinked once and the vision was gone. It wasn't what you were expecting to see, especially not with the scratching. You had expected something..scary ?

Constantine was watching your facial expressions “What did you see ?”

You blinked again, almost having forgotten that he was next to you, you pointed at the dinner table in the room “A woman and her boyfriend, I think, sitting at that table. They were enjoying their meal.”

You were a little disappointed that you didn't get anything usefull from the vision. You slapped your hands on your knees and pushed yourself off of the ground sighing.

Constantine was still kneeling on the floor, he knocked the floor a few times before he stood up as well “HARRY !” he shouted suddenly and you almost jumped. Why was he so loud ?!

“It's harold !” you corrected him and he just smirked at you again. He knew.

Harold opened the door a little hesitantly “Is it gone yet ?”

Constantine looked at you then back to Harold “I'm afraid it's a bit more complicated, we'll have to look around the place for a bit. You don't mind do ya ?”

Harold looked at the two of you worried “Uuuh..”

“It will make things easier. Can't send this thing away if we don't know what we're dealing with.” Constantine took of his jacket and put it on the chair.

“Okay. Sure. I'll stay here then ?” Harold asked a little awkwardly.

You took a step towards Harold “If you don't mind, of course ? We won't be nosey. We just have to get a bit more information on this thing.”

Harold nodded.

Constantine walked past him and opened the door, you followed him. You had set one foot past him before he spoke again “Oh, just one more thing, do you have a basement ?”

Harold seemed suprised at the question “Not that I know of.. no.”

“Alright, well. See you in a bit then.” he said before closing the door, leaving Harold in the kitchen on his own. You felt a drop of water fall on your jacket in the hallway, you looked up and saw that there was water dripping down slowly. It didn't come as a suprise to you, the house was rather old.

“Are we seriously leaving him alone in a room with all that scratching going on ?” you didn't get this guy at all. And he didn't seem to act very professional, at least not compared to his card.

“He'll be fine for now. But we have to find this thing before it get stronger and manifests itself.” he walked towards the stairs “It's not a demon, if that's what you're worried about.” he looked over his shoulder at you as he walked to the stairs.

“How do you know that ?” you followed him up the stairs.

“The smell, mostly. That and a demon wouldn't just wait all this time. It would make it's presence very clear.” he reached the top of the stairs and waited for you.

You were about to take the last step but then you froze as another vision took over.

You looked behind you, down the stairs and saw a man running up, his face full of blood. He was running for his life and you could feel his fear. It looked like he was going to run right into you and you stumbled backwards. A hand gripping your arm snapped you back to reality. You almost fell over the baluster but Constantine was quick to react and prevented it.

“Alright there, luv ?” his eyes were wide as he held onto your arm and guided you safely up the last steps.

You shook your head, your body trembling a bit “I had another vision..”

“What happened ?” he held onto your shoulders as you looked at the stairs, trying to catch your breath.

“That guy from my other vision, the boyfriend ?” you drew a breath “He was running up these stairs. His face was bleeding badly. I could feel his fear, he was running for his life. Something was chasing him.” you doubted you would ever forget the sight.

Constantine let go of one of your shoulders, giving the other a squeeze to keep you focused “Did you see what was chasing him.”

You shook your head again “No, but whatever it was, it's was trying to kill him.”

He gave a nod, before pulling you a bit further away from the stairs again. “I wonder who the people in your vision were.” he put his hands in his pockets “ I haven't seen any familly pictures in here, could have been the previous tenants. Let's check here first.”

He tilted his head in the direction of a door “Your visions are getting stronger aren't they ? You were even able to pick up the fear the guy felt.” he walked inside first and clicked on the light. It was a bedroom. “But you're not in control of your visions, it's a dangerous thing. Makes me think that you haven't learned how to control them.”

“Didn't realise that being a psychic comes with a manual.” you replied drily as you stepped into the room after him. "I was very young when I first started seeing things, my parents just brushed it off as a vivid imagination. When I got older, my visions.. they started to get more clear. I could understand them better. When I got older and made friends that weren't imaginery, my friends thought it was exciting, me being able to see shadows..visions. That didn't last long once I told one of them that I saw her father's death. She thought I was messing with them. A couple of days later, her father died. Just like I saw it in my vision. None of them spoke to me again, I think they believed that I had a part to play in that man's death." You let out a light scoff when you thought back on it. "So you are right, I'm not an experienced... whatever." You couldn't find the right word "But with the little I know, I have helped people, helped them to process the deaths of their loved ones, made it known to them that their spirits were at rest. But I haven't actually done anything other then seeking contact with spirits. I only know a summon spell or two for that." You admitted.

John swayed a bit on his feet "A lot of people.. well most of 'em can't handle the idea that there are things in our world, that aren't supposed to be here. Their minds.." he clicks his tongue "..maybe it's for the best. Imagine what the world would be like if this thing we do was normal." You let out a chuckle at the idea "It would be the damn apocalypse." "Exactly, and we don't want that. So, don't pay attention to the people who don't understand what it is like." Constantine walked past you, stopped and looked at you past his shoulder "And for that spell part, carefull with those. It's not just friendly ghosts hearing you, luv." You followed him into the next room "Yeah, I'm aware." He picked up a photo frame and looked at it "So, tell me. Why would a medium, wannabe mage, come to a haunted house in the middle of nowhere ?" You resisted the urge to flip him the finger "A priest that helped me once, asked if I would check this out. He doesn't know anyone else who deals with this sort of thing." You explained and he put the frame down. "Still, what would you have done if the thing here isn't just a friendly Casper ?" He strutted around the room, knocking the walls a bit. "I've seen enough horror movies to know that getting the hell out of here would be my best bet." You eyed him curiously. "Maybe next time, ask for an excorsist first. Preferably one that dabbles in the dark arts. If you really want Hell out of this place, that is." He played on your words. You sat down on the bed in the room "I prefer to work alone, sorry." "And why is that ? if you don't mind me asking. Most mediums are better when teaming up with others." Constantine seemed interested in the answer. The answer to a question people have asked you before, the answer you have locked away because it was too painfull. You opened your mouth to lie, but he suddenly focused on the bathroom door. You wanted to ask what was wrong but he held up his hand, silencing you.

Then you heard it. "Do you hear that ? I can hear something but the noise is faint." He took a few steps to the bathroom door and you got up from the bed, following him. You focused on the noise and within seconds the noise became clear to you, louder "It sounds like someone is crying." You told him. He nodded and pushed you aside gently before he slowly opened the door. He stepped inside carefully "Can you still hear it ?" You gave a quick nod, your eyes scanned the room and then you froze. He was far more relaxed then you and that's how you knew he couldn't see what you were seeing. He wanted to step further into the room but you grabbed hold of his arm, stopping him from doing so. He was suprised at your sudden action, first looking at your hand on his arm before his eyes focused on your face. The moment he did, his expression became serious. He stepped back until he was standing next to you. Your eyes never left the figure your were seeing, holding their knees to their chest as they were weeping. Short brown curly hair hiding their face. The dress she was wearing was torn and bloody.

After another moment of just starring at the sight you slowly stepped forward until you were just a few steps away from the spirit, you looked over your shoulder to Constantine. You hated to admit that you felt a bit safer having an exorcist there. He followed close behind you, and you felt him put a hand on your shoulder "I can see her too now. Careful." he whispered. You gave a nod and looked back to the ghost "Hey..." striking up a conversation with a ghost like this wasn't something you had done before. You could use that manual now. She started to lift her head up and a bunch of horror movie cliches jumped through your mind. Her hair was wet, something dark making it stick together. When she finally looked in your direction, her eyes were wide, filled with fear. She put a finger to her lips, motioning for you to stay quiet.

"Leave." You almost didn't hear it as her voice was so quiet. "Sorry ?" "While you still can." She whispered through her sobs. You didn't move and hoped she would give you more information. "LEAVE !" She shouted the word so loud that it made your ears hurt. But that wasn't what made you tumble back and scramble away in terror. She vanished as if she had never been there at all. You continued to scramble backwards until you felt yourself being pulled up of the ground. Constantine stood behind you and had pulled you off of the ground. It didn't look like his ears were ringing, he didn't seem affected at all. "Alright, it's alright, just breath. She's gone." He stood next to you now and held you by your upper arms. "You're looking pretty pale there." "I could feel it... like a wave crushing down on me when she shouted..." you were feeling rather dizzy. He studied your face as if he was looking for wounds "What did you sense ?" You looked at the spot she had been sitting at "Fear. Horrible fear. " you looked at him "whatever happened to her... she was terrified."

“Something's definitely going on in this place.” he looked over your shoulder, his eyes shortly locking on the spot where you had seen the woman. “Let's get you downstairs before you blow a fuse.”

Nodding, you followed him and stumbled a bit before he took your arm and guided you.

Constantine helped you down the stairs, Harold stepped out of the kitchen as he heard the two of you coming down the old creaky stairs and looked confused. "Get her a glass of water will ya, mate ?" Constantine said to Harold as he helped you down the last steps. Harold quickly nodded and went back into the kitchen. Constantine followed him into the kitchen with you and Harold was quick with giving you a glass of water. "Thank you." you gave a gratefull smile as you took the glass from his hands.

You took a swig from the glass and swallowed. Then frowned, the sensation you felt was... odd. It felt as if the water was still in your mouth so you swallowed again, but it didn't help. You grabbed your throat and started to panic, you couldn't breath. Oh no, you knew this vision was going to be bad. Constantine was beside you instantly when he saw that something was very wrong, seconds later you fell to the floor. You tried to gasp for air but only more water went into your mouth and soon all you saw was water all around you. You felt something around your throat, pressing down on your chest, your head.. something was preventing you from trying to escape. Then to your suprise, you were able to grab hold of what was keeping you under and you tried to fight the hands that kept pushing you down. Suddenly your vision became clearer and that's when you saw Harold's face. You thought the vision was finally over but then you realised there was still water everywhere. Harold smilled down at you wickedly. The hands left your neck and you couldn't move, that's when you learned the truth. This had been the last moments of the drowned woman in the bathroom. And then as quick as it had started, the vision stopped. You gasped for air and coughed loudly, relieved that that nightmare was over. Constantine looked down at you in horror as he shook your form "y/n ! y/n ! Please, talk to me !" You looked at him and then you looked at Harold, your sight a bit blurry from the lack of air "You killed them.. it wasn't a demon or a monster.. it was you." your voice raspy.

For a moment the space was so silent that you could have heard a needle drop.

Constantine looked down at you as the reality dawned on him as well, then Harold moved away from the both of you. Harold quickly runned over to a cupboard and pulled out a gun. Constantine saw what was happening, or he had a hunch. He pulled you up from the ground again and hoped he could at least get you out of harm's way.

Harold pumped the shotgun “Don't even think about it !” he shouted as he aimed the gun at you.

“Easy there.. let's not make a mess here.” Constantine put his hands up and you did the same.

Harold's calm and friendly attitude had taken a turn "I called you here to get rid of them, not chit-chat with them. Look what you are forcing me to do !" He kept his aim on you.

“You killed all these people.. why ?” you looked at him in disgust.

Harold laughed as if it was a dumb question “Everyone has a hobby. Some like to fish, some like sports. The weather can get bad here, sometimes people end up with a flat tire and no place to stay.”

Constantine looked at him in disgust, his eyes were cold “And that's where good old Harry came in to save the day.”

Harold nodded and smirked “It was so easy.”

Your stomach turned “You're a monster ! No wonder these spirits are making your life miserable, you deserve it !”

“You're lucky I need you to get rid off them, you wouldn't be talking anymore if I didn't.” he threathened. John kept his hand up a little "Easy there, Harold. She won't be able to send those spirits away, there's too many and she's only a medium. You're barking up the wrong tree here. I'm the only one here who can send them on their way." John was clearly trying to pull Harold's attention away from you. And it seemed like it was working as his eyes darted between you and John before he aimed the gun on John. All you could think about was how many times someone had lost their life around you. You had a gift but it was as if you were also cursed. Feeling like you were the opposite of a good luck charm. You had to do something, or else this would not end well.

You barely knew a summoning spell, and the one you did know had failed you more then once, leaving it up to the spirits to contact you if they wished to do so.

But you knew you had to try.

You started to whisper the spell to call upon the spirit of his victim.

“You who lingers here, hear my plea.

I call you from my soul to yours.

Come back from the shadows into the light and show yourself here.

Help us fight the darkness so we may bring forth the light.”

You felt the pendant starting to glow, it rarely did.

You felt the room get cold, very cold. The room filled with the spirits of the people who had lost their lives to Harold, including the young woman you had seen before. But this time, she was not weeping. John looked around the room before discreetly glancing your way. Disbelief and shock written all over his face. To be fair, you never thought you would be able to bring all the spirits out. You had directed it to the woman in the bathroom. Harold stepped back in terror as he saw what was happening. The gun flew from his hand across the room and the young woman appeared in front of him. She grabbed him by the neck and screamed a deafening scream. Harold let out a scream as she attacked him and soon the other spirits got involved. You wondered if you should try and save him, but when you saw the spirits, many young women, men, children.. you didn't. Maybe you couldn't even save him. You let them drag him down into the wooden floor that was cracking open. Before he was dragged down completely, he tried to scream but only water came from his mouth, then they pulled him down. The room was silent, there were no screams, no scratching, nothing. You could only hear yourself breathing. John stood motionless as he watched the hole in the floor. You carefully walked to it and pulled out your phone and switched on the light and shone it into the hole. "Looks like you'll be able to grant the spirits their rest." You told John after seeing what was down there. He snapped out of it and walked up to you and peered down as well. The hole had uncovered a basement holding Harold's secret as it held the skeletons of the victims. "Damnit." Constantine sighed at the sight and you clicked of the light. "The scratching I heard..” you thought back to it.

“It was them, they were trying to warn us all this time.” he looked at you oddly.

“What ?” you asked oblivious to why he was looking at you that way.

He stepped away from the hole and you followed him as he plopped down on the chair where he had left his coat when he first got here “How did you do that ?”

You were confused for a moment before it clicked “I just said the only summoning spell I knew and hoped for the best.”

He looked at you, a brow raised “ You're a psychic that has barely any experience summoning spirits. Yet you just summoned what ? Twenty spirits into this room, and you did it so well that they were able to manifest themselves physically.”

“It wasn't my intention for the spirits to attack him. I was trying to make them appear so we could catch him off guard. I don't know how they were able to physically attack him." "Could be another effect of the rising darkness." Constantine muttered. "What ?" Confussion washed over you. He sighed before explaining " It's been happening all over the city. A dark energy is leaking into our world somehow. Making things that are normally weak or calm become strong and act erratic.

“You mean like the apocalypse ?” that didn't sound good at all, rising darkness ? Seriously?

“'Fraid so.” he dragged a hand across his face. “But I'm working on it, whatever is happening, it won't be able to hide much longer.”

You nodded and sat on another chair, your eyes focused on the hole

“Everything I felt since I walked into this place is what they felt in their last moments. They wanted me to feel it so I could help them." you shook your head and swallowed the lump in your throat. "They must have seen something in you that they didn't see in me. I'll admit I wouldn't 've been able to do this without your help. I probably would have ended up like them if it weren't for you." he admitted. "I never would have known what happened here if they hadn't shown me. He just seemed like any regular person." You whispered to yourself mostly. "Not all monsters hide under beds." he stood up and walked to the hole "Some hide in plain sight.”

He stretched his arms out “Ever seen spirits pass over ?”

You shook your head “No. I've seen them vanish but never the whole..leaving your body and bones behind part.”

He smiled at you over his shoulder before looking at the hole in the floor again “Well then, stay silent and watch.”

You stood up quietly and watched as he spoke the words and soon you could see the souls dance into the air seconds before they disappeared forever.

“Are they free now ?” you asked him.

He nodded as he put on his coat “They are. Do you have the number of the priest that send you here ?”

“Yeah, why ?” why did he want the number of the priest.

He pulled out his phone “I should have a chat with him, make him see that he should call me too next time before he sends a young woman out in the middle of nowhere.”

You rolled your eyes, but he was right. This could have ended very badly for you.

“Shouldn't we call the cops ?” someone must be looking for these victims.

“I'll call my contact, but we should get out of here before the cavalry arrives then.” he pushed in the number of the priest as you read it out to him.

“There's people in the police force that believe in this kind of stuff ?” you chuckled at the thought.

He put his phone back into his pocket “There's mages, psychics and other kinds of magical beings everywhere around us. The police force is no different.”

“I've never actually met anyone like me.” you admitted. Never once had you met anyone like him either.

“And I haven't met anyone like you either, never seen an untrained psychic with a gift like yours.” he looked at you admirable.

You didn't like the word 'gift', you saw it more as a curse after all the things it had cost you“Thanks. You're not that bad either, Mister Constantine.”

“Just call me John.” he winked at you.

Was he seriously trying to flirt with you here ? Next to a hole with skeletons ?

“Alright, John.” you stood a bit awkwardly.

“Usually I work alone, but you seem like someone who can handle herself. What do you say we go and see if we can help some other poor sods ?” he looked nervous “I could teach you how to control your powers, maybe even refine them.”

You were grinning “Are you asking me to come with you ?”

He cleared his throat before looking at you “I am.”

You swallowed, no matter how much you wanted to say yes, you couldn't. Your gift hadn't brought anything but misery to those around you, you doubted it would be different with John.

“I'm sorry.. I can't.” you felt horrible when you saw the disappointed look in his eyes, he really did want you to go with him.

“I understand. What I do...it's not for everyone.” he swallowed.

You smiled softly “I'm sure the great master of the dark arts, will be fine without me.”

He chuckled at your choice of words, looking down for a moment before looking back up to you “It's been a pleasure, luv. Maybe our paths will cross again someday.”

You nodded hopefully “Maybe they will.” you reached out your hand to him, he took your hand in his and shook it softly. You froze for a moment as the touch of his hand on yours triggered a short vision of him as a child. You snapped out of it so fast that he hadn't even realised it that you just had a vision.

He let go of your hand and your vision made you look at this man in a different light. Even as a child, he had seen monsters. Human ones.

“Goodbye, John. Maybe I'll see you around.” you said your goodbyes as you both walked out of the house.

“I hope so, y/n.” he smirked at you one last time as you got into your car and drove away.

CHAPTER 2

#John Constantine #john constantine x reader #nbc constantine #Constantine #constantine reader #john constantine!reader #constantine reader insert #constantine!reader #legends of tomorrow

108 notes · View notes

tiaragqueen · 5 years

Note

Can i ask for yandere!Baekhyun when the reader disappears before he gets to confess or kidnap her? Like, he gets obsessed with her after they meet each other and its up to you if she knows that theres something wrong with him or not and if he meets her again years later or not. Sorry if its confusing.

Last Resort

Well, I think I made the MC a little sassier than I’ve intended her to be…

If you like mywriting, please support me on ko-fi!

“Sometimes your closest friend is your greatest enemy.” - Jason Fong

The picture sat on the nightstand, reminding Baekhyun of the bittersweet memories he used to share with you.

It wasn’t your fault, honestly. You only wanted to achieve your dream, and the opportunity just so happened to present itself in another country. Therefore, it wouldn’t be strange if you took it. You were an independent woman, after all. You’d saved plenty of money for this kind of thing, and you were more than ready to leave this exhausting life behind. He had no doubt that you could adapt to the new environment very well.

However, just because he acknowledged your adaptation skills, it didn’t mean that he was as ready as you were.

Of course, as his best friend, you’d reassured him many times before that you wouldn’t ‘neglect’ him. That you wouldn’t forget to text and call him once in a while. Baekhyun merely nodded, a bit satisfied with the alternative way after he’d begged you to stay, yet disappointed nonetheless. How could he not? He’d tried so hard to make you understand that departing wasn’t the right choice, and you would be safe in Korea instead.

But you were stubborn, saying that you would definitely survive. You also added that that country had a low criminality percentage. Obviously, he wasn’t convinced. Criminals existed everywhere, and a dumb statistic meant nothing if the possibility of you getting hurt was still present.

That, and because he feared that he wouldn’t be able to confess his true feelings for you had something terrible befall you.

So, Baekhyun tried to offer some job vacancies he’d searched day and night from various sources, online or newspaper. You didn’t know about his efforts – about how far he was willing to force you to stay – and snapped at him. You’d told him that you’d expected him to be glad with the news you’d brought; that you finally had a chance to live the life you’ve been wanting. You were terribly upset, and left with a huff.

The pain of witnessing you lashing out stung more than seeing your bright smile when you bounded up to him to announce the unexpected news.

Baekhyun persisted, however, and visited your apartment that afternoon. He’d planned on confessing as the last option, but it was clear that luck wasn’t on his side these past few days.

Your apartment was empty, saved from the basic furniture. There was barely any sign of existence in there. The closet was barren from your clothes, the bed slowly losing your natural smell, the floor was a bit dusty from the lack of proper cleaning. Heck, even the fridge was vacant from the snacks and beverage you’d regularly stocked to consume during midnight. The tick-tock of the clock remained as the only sound left in the living room. It was like you simply vanished from the face of Earth.

Now, he could handle your temper. He was your friend, after all. But this? Baekhyun ain’t taking none of your shit.

Gritting his teeth, he kicked the lone chair like a child throwing a tantrum and returned to his house. Baekhyun didn’t want to have to resort to this; he’d wished you would come to your own understanding. However, your disappearance gave him no reason to prolong the inevitable any further.

“Is she here now?”

The burly guard bowed. “Yes, she’s currently in the basement.” he replied in a raspy voice.

Baekhyun nodded and dismissed him with a flick of his hand. After the guard left, Baekhyun glanced at the photo frame on the nightstand. You were facing the camera and gave a peace sign, while he grinned with one arm slung around your shoulders. The sparkles in your eyes were visible as you beamed, something that he would never got tired of watching.

Smiling, Baekhyun turned his back and headed to the basement. He could already picture your clueless and shocked self of being awaken in a strange place, bounded in a chair.

And true to his mental image, you were sitting on a chair with ropes wrapped around your stomach and hands. Your eyes lit up immediately at his arrival as you wriggled, eager to have him releasing you. Baekhyun clicked his tongue, yet you were too absorbed in your little joy moment to notice.

“Baekhyun!” you beamed once he ripped open the black duck tape that plastered your lips. “Oh, thank God you’re here. Some men dressed in black knocked me out and brought me here! I was so scared… Can you take off these ropes, please?”

The hopeful request fell into blind ear as he held the golden pendant near your cleavage and inspected it.

“How beautiful,” he said absent-mindedly. “From who?”

“Oh, ah, it’s from Yoongi.”

Baekhyun froze, unconsciously squeezing the necklace in the process. “Yoongi…?”

You nodded, a bit confused with his sudden drop of mood. “He went abroad during my birthday, so he gave me that instead. A late birthday gift, he said.”

“Who is he?” When he heard you hum questioningly, he rephrased his inquiry. “Who is he to you?”

“A friend.”

“Friend?” he sneered. “I thought I was your friend.”

Now, your confusion grew to consternation. “What? Of course you are! I–” you stopped mid-sentence and narrowed your eyes. “Wait, do you think I only have you as my friend?”

Baekhyun remained quiet, eliciting a scoff from you due to his ridiculous yet perplexing naivety.

“Honestly, Baekhyun. How antisocial do you think I am? Of course, I have other friends. It’s not just you.”

Each word you spat out sent daggers into his heart, but he refused to surrender. Not when he finally had you where he wanted you to.

“So, you betrayed me.” he concluded.

“Huh? The hell are you talking about, Baekhyun? Just because I have other friends, doesn’t mean I betrayed you. Don’t be so possessive.”

Baekhyun dropped his head and mumbled, “That’s the thing, [Name]. I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”

“Oh, so you wanna cut off our friendship because I befriended other people? Fine by me. At least, you’ve proven yourself that you’re toxic. The trash finally get rid of itself, huh?”

“No!” he growled, angry at your cluelessness and low opinion of him. How dare you thinking that he was toxic? And a trash, too? He loved you more than those so-called friends, especially that bastard Yoongi. He could buy you any jewelry you wanted at any price. You just needed to say the word. “I love you, [Name]! I’ve been wanting to tell you that, but instead, you came up to me and told me that you’re gonna leave soon. Heck, you even disappeared to that bastard Yoongi! Well, that just won’t do.”

“What?!” You reeled back in shock, eyes widened the size of a saucer. “Wait. So, this is about my departure? Goodness, Baekhyun. I think we’ve over this discussion already.” The epiphany dawned on you the longer you stared at his muddled irises. “Don’t tell me you’re the one who ordered those men to kidnap me…”

“So, what? Why does it matter? You’re mine, anyway. I can do anything to you.”

You scowled. Oh, the urge to strangle him had never been this strong before. “Don’t pretend to be dumb, Baekhyun. You can get in prison for kidnapping an innocent. And what the fuck with this sudden ‘mine’ thing?! I’ve never agreed to be yours, or anyone for that matter. I belong to myself! Not you, nor anyone. Nobody!”

“Oh, well. I guess I have to prove that to you, then.” Baekhyun ripped the pendant from your neck and turned to the guards that had been standing silently in the dark corners.

Your heart started to thump at his ominous tone. “What are you gonna do, Baekhyun?” When he didn’t reply, you lurched forward and yelled. “Oi, answer me!”

“Something that I should’ve done a long time ago.” He blinked, face devoid of any emotion. “Guards, get rid of Yoongi and bring back his head.”

The guards merely bowed despite your pleas and screams and went to do their mission.

“Baekhyun, what the fuck are you doing?! You couldn’t just ordered them to kill someone. That’s a crime!”

“It’s not a crime if you do it secretly.” he explained solemnly and peered over his shoulder. “Besides, we have to eliminate any witness. Wouldn’t want them to report us to the police, right? That, and because he’d touched you. It’s a crime in itself, you know?”

You gaped, clearly loss of words. Where was the sweetheart Baekhyun you’ve come to know all these years? Where did he go? Who was this man? What happened to him?

“If only you surrendered willingly, [Name], then perhaps I wouldn’t have to resort to this option. But you never gave me a chance, anyway. Why should I wait any longer?”

187 notes · View notes

ignis-scientia-estrogen-brigade · 5 years

Photo

If you’ve been following me on Twitter, you might have seen my thread documenting the Ignis-inspired itabag I made in order to have something to display all of my Ignis charms when I headed up to Anime Expo last Thursday. I sewed all night and day to have it done in time for AX and I only just now got around to taking some decent photos of it! Construction details below the cut:

Once my collection of Ignis swag had grown beyond what a single lanyard could reasonably carry, I started looking into itabags that could better display all of my stuff. Wanting something that would fit the theme, I found this skull itabag online that I felt would be appropriately Ignis. But at $40, my first thought was, “I could probably make that for less.” I also thought that I could make it even more on the nose by having a purple Coeurl-print lining peeking out from behind the skull, so I headed down to my local fabric store in search of leopard print fabric. As I was shopping, I had an epiphany—instead of just making the bag mildly Ignis-themed, why don’t I take it a step further and make the display area his shirt? And thus, a plan was born.

I think what really solidified my idea was finding some crinkly leather fabric that matched his collar, as well as black denim that closely resembled his Crownsguard fatigues. I also found a leopard-print in the bargain bin that, while I wouldn’t consider to be cosplay-accurate, was definitely good enough for itabag purposes. Since it was clearly a synthetic material, I had to buy some specialty dye to achieve the desired level of purple.

This was the color of the fabric before I dyed it. Mostly black and white, with a slight hint of blue. The spots were a little bigger than what was accurate to Ignis’ shirt in the game, but all in all it was quite the awesome find!

After one round of dye. I used about half of the recommended amount of dye for the dye bath because I wanted a very subtle color. This turned out to be too subtle, so I dropped it into the bath again.

Round two. I really should have stopped here, but Ignis’ shirt looks different depending on the lighting and angle and I was afraid this was still not quite purple enough. Into the dye bath once more.

I had a #yolo moment and added more dye to the bath, which proved to be my undoing. This certainly doesn’t look awful, but it’s not what I would call screen-accurate (too purple). I wasn’t making this for cosplay purposes though, so I decided to just roll with it and move forward with the bag construction.

This was the pattern I had initially started to use for the backpack, but ultimately the only thing I took away from it was the shape of the outside (which I ended up changing in the end anyway). At the very least, it helped give me an idea of how a backpack should be put together. More importantly, however, was getting the look of the “shirt” right, so I spent a lot of time measuring, pinning, pleating, and ironing. “I love sewing pleats!” said no cosplayer ever. >.> (Also, you can see how differently the fabric photographs depending on the lighting.)

The “access point” where you stick your hand in to hang your charms is right down the middle there. There’s a long strip of velcro just behind those buttons, which seemed like a good idea at the time but in practice proved to be not as ergonomical as I had hoped.

The #1 most important part of this project for me was including the skull pendant my dear friend @hypaalicious sent me after my dad died. I’ve had it for a while now, and while I’ve worn it here and there, I was always afraid wearing it too much for fear of losing it. I’m so happy I finally found a perfect place to display it! ♡♡♡

After finishing the shirt, I moved on to the rest of the bag. The arrangement here was modeled off the aforementioned skull itabag, although now having worn it around for a day I would definitely do this layout a bit differently. At this point the backpack was still square (like the backpack pattern in the link a few paragraphs above); ultimately I rounded the top corners a bit to better match what a traditional backpack looks like.

The perfect Ignis denim I bought came with the unfortunate caveat of being stretchy, which is not a quality you really want in your backpack material. There are ways around this; fusing it to another fabric will rid it of most of its stretchiness while adding a bit of stiffness, something you do want in backpack material. Unfortunately, I severely overestimated how stiff I would need it to be and fused it to duck cloth, which is just about the thickest, stiffest fabric out there. That meant my sewing machine really had its work cut out for it when it came to sewing through multiple layers. At its thickest, I was sewing through ten layers of fabric! I broke five needles trying to get through everything. If I do this project again, I’d definitely fuse the denim to something much, much thinner.

I wanted an inside pocket to put my chapstick and other small things in; even though I knew no one else would see this besides me, I took the time to line up the spots on the pocket with those of the lining. :D

#restofthefuckingowl It was getting late and I was in a hurry to get everything done, so unfortunately I don’t have any more photos of the process after that. But here’s a photo immediately after I finished it! You can see that I added side pockets modeled to look like Ignis’ jean pockets (I ended up storing business cards and a bottle of sunscreen in mine).

I hope you enjoyed this write-up and/or are inspired to make your own themed-itabag! I got a lot of really wonderful feedback on Twitter and I sincerely appreciate the warm response. I did have a few people asking me if I would ever take commissions; I think this project is probably a bit too labor-intensive for these to be reasonably priced, but I’ve already begun to think about a better 2.0 version of this bag, and I think selling a pattern + in-depth tutorial for it at a nominal price could conceivably happen! If I did that, I’d probably sell this particular bag (sans necklace), so keep your eyes peeled here or on Twitter in the future for news on that. :)

Twitter || ISEB Store

#final fantasy xv #ignis scientia #itabag #ffxv itabag

112 notes · View notes

lavender-rebellion · 5 years

Text

The Reality of Existence Chapter one

Masterpost

AO3 Link

Ships: Analogical and Royality

Description: "Thomas looked around his living room and felt a stone in his gut. He had four freshly human sides before him. Four human, terrified, grown adult men who had never lived a day in the real world. Four men who didn’t legally exist, permanently in reality. They were in his care now, and that dormant panic made itself known once more.“ A story about learning to live and learning to love. But also about being roommates, first jobs, being an adult, and that friendship really is the strongest force on earth. They all have things to teach and things to learn, but that’s part of being human. (They have to learn how to do that too, though)

TW for a panic attack and what can be seen as depression symptoms.

Thomas closed the door noisily behind him, letting out a heavy sigh and quickly making his way over in front of his TV, the familiar spot lending him some comfort and he could feel most of the anxious energy fall from his shoulders. He took a moment to take in the new perspective of his living room the spot gave him, before rolling his shoulder and finding the threads inside him. Thomas tugged at the one thrumming with more nervous energy than usual, watching Virgil appear on the stairs nearly immediately. Seems he was waiting for him, which was fair considering that Thomas had been thinking of this all day.

“It’s bad.” Virgil agreed quickly, wrapped up tight in his hoodie with darker bags than usual. Thomas still wasn’t sure if they were natural or makeup, and Virgil always dodged the question. Honestly, he didn’t know which one was more troubling, if Virgil apparently hadn’t gotten a good days sleep ever or if he thought it was a good fashion choice. Speaking of bad fashion choices…

“I knew it, they hated it!” He despaired, running a hand through his hair. Virgil nodded solemnly.

“There is an unusual amount of icky-sticky energy in here.” Patton rose up, hands on his hips. “If I didn’t know better I’d think your name was Vicky!”

Thomas let out a small chuckle at the Fairly Odd Parents joke because while it wasn’t Patton’s best it was clear that he was trying to cheer him up. Virgil sent a tense smile at the other side, who seemed to pick up on the mood and clapped his hands together.

“Alright then, what’s the problem, kiddo? I’ve got my listening ears on and I’m ready to ear you out!”

“It’s his new shirt!” Virgil chimed in, gesturing. Patton looked confused.

“My friends hated it!” Thomas clarified, “I looked awful all day, and they kept sneaking looks at it with this look on their face..”

“Thomas have we not already gone over your cognitive distortions? It was only a few months ago, surely you remember?” Logan rose up, flipping through a planner. He looked up to give Thomas a disapproving look, before returning Patton’s wave and sharing a smile with Virgil.

“Well yeah, but this is different.” Thomas insists, feeling a little silly but mostly like he needs to change his name and go into hiding.

“Look, Thomas, there is only one option and you know it. It’s time to move away to a remote village and become a hermit, never showing your face again.” Virgil cut in, chopping his hands down to emphasize his point. He nodded along, crossing his arms and wondering how long it would take to pack up his entire house and buy a new one. One without internet access, he couldn’t ever go online again.

“Uhhhh….” Patton looked up at Virgil dubiously. Logan shot him a similar look.

“That’s a bit of an overreaction, is it not? We can’t just go into hiding over a bad ‘look’.”

“Watch me.”

“What’s wrong with his shirt, again? I’m lost.” Patton asked.

“And why are you reacting so strongly to this, it’s hardly the worst thing you’ve worn out of the house,” Logan added, and Thomas clutched at his chest, offended. What could he possibly be talking about, and why was he so quick to remember it? Was it recent? Had Thomas just been walking out of his house looking like he got dressed in the dark for ages?

“Not helping, Lo!” Virgil ran his hands over his face, dark bags still perfect afterward which lent weight towards the natural theory..what were they arguing about again? “Anyway, that’s not the point, the point is that Thomas looked ridiculous all day and it’s all on camera!”

Oh right, that.

“OH! That’s right, you were filming that collab today weren’t you?” Patton jumped, clapping his hands together again. “How did that go?”

They all looked over at him, disbelieving, before turning back to the conversation.

“Everyone is going to see my stupid shirt and laugh, and screenshots are going to be all over Tumblr and there will be memes-”

“Are you really that worried about a bunch of 13-year-olds making fun of you?” Logan interrupted. Thomas ignored him.

“-and people are going to think I’m silly and then they’re going to realize that I’m a weird 30 year old who records himself talking to himself and posts it on Youtube-”

“Tumblr is not just a bunch of 13-year-olds, there’s plenty of young adults and adult adults. I mean, we’re on Tumblr, and so is Joan.” Virgil argued.

“Plus 13-year-olds are really mean,” Patton whined. Still ignoring them.

“-and they’re going to stop watching my videos which means I’m going to steadily lose money until I’m making none and then I’ll have to get a stuffy desk job-”

“That’s true. It’s like the John Mulaney skit, ‘13-year-olds are the meanest people in the world because they will make fun of you, but in an accurate way’.” Virgil quoted.

Patton gasped, “Oh I love John Mulaney! He is a very funny man.”

“That’s ridiculous, there’s no factual evidence that 13-year-olds are meaner or more observant than any of the ages near them.”

“Clearly you’ve never spoken to a 13-year-old.”

“-and I’ll spend the rest of my days living in a grey, unfulfilling haze where my coworkers make fun of me and send office emails around full of my earliest vines and those awful screenshots-” Ignoring them, just continue ranting.

“We are both sides, I’ve met every 13 year old you have.”

“And you’re still defending them?”

“Yeah, I’m on Virge’s side in this, Logan. 13-year-olds are just cruel.”

“I’m not defending them, I’m simply saying that there’s no logical reason-”

“There’s no logic in pre-teens-”

“Not even a teen- sy bit-”

“-and that will be my life, mockery and the cold confinement of office routine, no friends or boyfriends and I’ll die alone, without even a cat for company because I have this stupid allergy-”

CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP

They all went quiet, echoing the clap and looking over at Roman, who had appeared a second ago while they were bickering.

“How am I supposed to practice my one-man duets if you are all making a racket?” Thomas squinted at the gaudy necklace he was wearing, a giant ruby pendant resting in the center of his chest. While he watched, it flashed a dim red light. Must have been the light catching the gem.

But everyone else glanced at it as well, including Roman. He looked pleasantly surprised.

“I didn’t know it did that. Neat!”

“What on earth are you wearing?” Logan sighed, glaring at the necklace in suspicion.

"Oh, it’s a best friend necklace! The Dragon Witch gave it to me-”

“The Dragon Witch?” Virgil interrupted, looking at him like he was crazy. Roman glared at him, but it lacked any real heat. He placed a hand on his hip and popped it dramatically.

“Yes, the Dragon Witch. We totally patched things up and are now great friends! Honestly, it was super judgy of me to declare her as evil just because she happens to be a dragon and a witch. She can’t help that! And there are good witches and dragons! Like Sabrina, or the characters from Dragon Tails!” Roman argued, waving his hand around. Patton nodded along, looking proud.

“That is so true! That’s so cool of you, Roman! And may I just say it is be- ruby -ful!” He beamed.

“Ayyyyyyy-” Roman pointed at him, looking delighted. Thomas hid his laugh behind his hand.

“That feels ill-advised,” Logan argued, Virgil gesturing at him in agreement, looking baffled. Personally, Thomas didn’t see the problem with it. But they were once again off track, and Thomas’s problem still hadn’t been solved, so he shrugged and decided that there were no real arguments against Virgil’s idea and that must mean it was fine. He turned and moved to grab his suitcases out of the hall closet.

“Maybe you should evaluate why you hate dragons and/or witches because it’s not her problem that you have a bias.” Roman sassed.

“I have no problem with either of those things, I’m simply saying that prior behavior suggests- Thomas where are you going?” Logan cut off, confused. Thomas blinked and jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

“Gotta pack, so I can become a hermit.”

Logan sighed and adjusted his glasses. “You are not becoming a hermit.”

“I’m not?” “He’s not?”

Logan glared at Virgil and Patton. “No, you aren’t. Thomas, I know you remember our conversation about cognitive distortions so I’m not going to bother rehashing it, and instead let’s get to the root of this problem. Yes, you may have looked silly today, and your friends may or may not have noticed it. Your outfit will certainly be in the video, and others may or may not make fun of it. But we both know that is where it will end, and that it is a minor problem. So why are you making such a big deal about it?”

“Yeah, buddy, it’s not like you to make mountains out of mole-hills.”

It was Thomas’s turn to sigh, body slumping out of its tense position. “You’re right- (“I’m always right.”) - I’m overreacting. I’m just worried about Cartoon Therapy.” He admitted.

“That’s the new script you and Joan are working on, right?” Patton wondered.

“Yes! It’s going to be amazing, you are just going to love the therapist, Pat!” Roman gushed.

“But that’s the thing, what if it isn’t amazing? What if it sucks? I’ve never made such a long scripted episode, what if it gets boring or repetitive? What if people don’t like the new characters? I mean it isn’t like I made you guys up, and I don’t write our scripts from scratch-”

“Take a deep breath, Thomas.” Virgil soothed, looking a little frazzled but much more relaxed compared to earlier. Thomas hadn’t even noticed his anxiety ebb into a dull static. He did as he said, sharing a smile with him at the reference.

“Thanks.” He murmured quietly.

“Give yourself some credit, you’ve created characters people have loved before, in much shorter bits. Take your personification of Sleep, for example. He is well-liked and barely fleshed out. I’m sure characters you can take your time establishing will be just as well received.”

“And if you can’t give yourself credit, give some to Joan. We all know they are a creative genius.” Patton added, speaking softly. “The script will be fine, and the characters will be great. All you can do is give your best try when writing, and watch it come to life.”

“For now, distract yourself and allow yourself to calm down. Put on Parks and Recs! It’ll work out.” Roman suggested. Thomas nodded, feeling much calmer than when he came in. He took another deep breath and grinned at his sides.

“Thanks, guys.”

“It was no problem, I a- shirt you.” Patton shot him finger guns and winked, and then-

Just stood there. Thomas’s brow creased in confusion, watching panic slowly bleed into his expression.

“Pat?”

“I-uh,” The others were looking at him in concern now, “I can’t sink out.”

“What?”

“I can’t sink out.” He stressed, and Logan fidgeted with his glasses.

“How is that possible, Patton-”

“I don’t know!” Patton snapped, looking very upset. “I just know I can’t!”

“I can’t either.” Virgil blurted out, his voice layering.

“This is probably nothing. Lets just all take our own deep breaths, close our eyes and focus on the living room.” Logan said, terse. Thomas watched them all do so, fear rising inside of him at an alarming rate. None of them sunk.

“What’s happening?” He asked. They all looked a little crazed, wide eyes darting around.

“I don’t know, this shouldn’t be possible! What could have-” Logan’s head darted up from where it was buried in his hands. “Your necklace!”

Roman jumped, alarmed at the outburst. A lightbulb went on over Thomas’s head.

“It flashed earlier! When you arrived!”

Roman looked even more alarmed, hands going to the chain and frantically yanking it up over his head, tossing it to the ground. There was a split second of relief on all of their faces before the ruby once again lit up, this time with a blinding red light that filled the entire room, too bright to see through. Thomas could hear the sounds of bodies thumping to the floor and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear the spots from his eyes.

Four men were crumpled on the floor (and stairs), but they weren’t the men who were there just a minute ago. They were all dressed like his sides, but it wasn’t his face looking back at him. He could feel his breath hitching in his chest, his lungs empty and his chest burning. He sunk to the floor and curled up, sticking his head between his legs. He could fuzzily recognize this as a panic attack, though he had never had one this severe, and clumsily went through tactics he remembered reading when researching Anxiety. It took him a while, but eventually, he was back to being aware. The men were still on his ground.

In Patton’s place was a man with curly blond hair and a scattering of freckles across his rounder cheeks. He was a bit softer all around, and round glasses lay on the ground next to him. Roman had been replaced with a tanner version of him, a face that was similar to Thomas’s, but his hair was a dark ginger and thicker, his swoop larger than usual. He seemed broader than usual as well, but he was crumpled oddly and Thomas couldn’t be sure. Instead of Virgil, there was a slight man with wild purple hair, lightly curling around his face. It looked like there was a suggestion of freckles on his pale skin as well, but he was too far away and the maybe-freckles were light if they were there at all. His makeup -or not?- was gone, replaced with very real eye bags that were much less severe but still noticeable. And not-Logan was, well, tall. Not giant, but he appeared taller than before, with black hair neatly styled out of his face, which also looked much like Thomas’s own. Actually, they appeared like they could be siblings, and not-Logan looked the most like who he should be. Does that make sense? Thomas didn’t really care, he was still panicking.

Not-Patton looked the least like Thomas, with not-Virgil hovering somewhere between him and not-Roman. There was a strong suggestion of Virgil’s features but they were more…delicate somehow. Like a distant relative of Talyn’s and a less distant relative of his. Patton didn’t look much like him, while Roman could be a cousin and Logan could be his brother. Because that’s who they were, he knew it and he had to stop lying about it. Those were his sides, only they weren’t very side-like at all.

A low groan came from Logan, the body shifting on the floor and pushing up into a sitting position. Thomas froze, looking at the strange frame which suddenly felt like it was sitting much too close to Thomas’s own. He scooted back, tense. Logan blinked the spots from his eyes as well, before freezing. He was looking straight at Patton. Thomas was sure he was just as startled as he was, but then Logan relaxed and leaned back against the wall.

“Oh good, we’re back.” He hummed quietly to himself.

“Uh, what the fuck ?” Thomas blurted, feeling somehow more confused and nervous. Logan nearly jumped into the air, head whipping around to face him, dark blue eyes blinking once more at him. His brow drew down in confusion.

“Thomas? But how did you- maybe the light….no, because we never appear like this with you around…” He muttered. They were both interrupted by movement on the staircase, Virgil righting himself on the steps, holding his head. His face was scrunched tight in discomfort, and Logan’s attention snapped to him.

“Are you alright?” Logan asked Virgil, lowly. Virgil nodded, eyes clearing the last of the light and locking with the other sides.

“Fine, Lo. We’re back then?” He noticed the tight line of Logan’s mouth and suddenly Thomas was staring into green. Virgil’s eyes aren’t brown anymore, either, a grey-green color replacing the familiar warmth. They narrowed.

“That’s not right…”

“What is going on?!” Thomas asked forcefully. He doesn’t get an answer, Patton stirring by the curtains interrupting them. He fumbled for his glasses, clumsily shoving them back on his face and opening his eyes.

“Well, that sure was a pain in the neck , very ruby of that Dragon Witch if you ask me.” Patton joked, though it lacked humor. Just like the other’s his body went slack when he noticed the others, but straightened as he immediately took note of Thomas. He absentmindedly noticed that Patton’s eyes were a sky blue. “Why are you in our living room?”

“I-what-” Thomas spluttered. Patton’s attention shifted just as fast as it came, and he let out a little gasp when he noticed Roman’s unconscious form.

“I don’t think he’ll be waking up for a couple of minutes, at least. It appears we woke up based on how close we were to the initial blast.” Logan offered, his eyes darting back to Virgil every so often, who was also watching Roman with concern.

“What happened?” Patton asked, distressed, and Thomas could have laughed.

“That’s what I’ve been fucking asking!” He burst out, earning a startled expression from Patton.

“Language.”

“That is the least of our problems, Patton! You all knocked out and you aren’t you and you’re still in my living room and no one is telling me what’s going on so take your language and shove it. ” He snapped, and his sides reeled back in shock. He felt a little hysterical, he might laugh anyway. It was either that or scream, because one of them was climbing up his throat.

“We don’t know what is going on, any more than you do,” Logan said.

“But, you- you look!”

“This is how we appear in the Mind Space. When you manifested us for the first time you did so with an image in your mind, so that’s how we appeared.” Virgil explained carefully, looking wary after Thomas’s outburst. “In fact, we look like the short’s characters you imagined us as, so while some features you seemed aware we had, like glasses, the rest of it wasn’t originally us.”

What? “So I decided your faces and clothes and personalities, and forced it on you?”

“Not quite. Admittedly, we dressed very similarly before manifestation, and our personalities have been ours since we started existing. You’ve always been aware of those things, just like you’ve always known our functions and of our existence.” Logan corrected.

Patton piped up, though he wasn’t meeting Thomas’s eyes. “It’s just part of being a manifester, kiddo. Well, we assume so, there isn’t exactly a guidebook on it.”

He suddenly felt bad about his outburst, the metaphorical wind leaving his metaphorical sails. “I’m sorry, Patton, I shouldn’t have yelled at you. At any of you.”

“It’s fine! We’re all freaking out, I can understand your reaction.” He was warmer this time, and Thomas sighed.

Roman let out a dramatic groan and made to sit up against the TV stand, body swaying unsteadily as he adjusted to being conscious. These eyes were familiar and comforting, even squinting suspiciously at him. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

Patton tapped the ground to get his attention and quietly started filling him in on what little had happened, while Logan started looking around the living room.

“Earlier, you said we were still in your living room,” Virgil commented, watching Logan. He nodded, and Logan mirrored it.

“He’s right, this isn’t our living room. The pictures are wrong, and things are displaced. Like, look, your blankets are not on the couch, and my book and our tea are missing from the table.” He pointed out, and the other three glanced around.

“We didn’t sink out.” Patton devastated.

“And we’re in our real forms, which shouldn’t just happen out of the Mind Space,” Virgil added, grave.

“Something is very wrong.” Roman finished.

“Nothing would be wrong if you hadn’t worn a necklace from the Dragon Witch.” Logan pointed out, edgy. Roman looked a mix between guilty, stricken, and offended, and it twisted his face into something that could have been funny outside of the circumstances. Thomas still wanted to laugh, but that might be the shock setting in. Was this shock? He thought for a second and decided it didn’t really matter. But maybe he should get a blanket?

As the sides began some tense arguing, he spotted his phone lying where he dropped it in his panic attack and realized what would help even more than a blanket. He grabbed it and opened up the call feature. (When was the last time he did that, honestly?)

“It was a gift given of good will, I had to wear it! How could I have known she would do this?”

“Maybe because she was the Dragon Witch ?!”

“Listen, just because she’s the only female in the Mind Space doesn’t mean she has to be the villain!”

“No, she’s the villain because she’s evil! ” Virgil argued.

“He has a point though. Why is the only woman in our realm a villain?” Patton offered, hesitant.

“Roman created her. And he accepted the necklace that got us into this mess!”

“Are you saying this is my fault, Virgil?”

“I’m not not saying that.”

“Virgil!”

“What, Patton? I’m not wrong.”

“But you shouldn’t say it..”

“Patton!”

Thomas hung up and clapped to get their attention. They went quiet once more. “Joan is on their way. Maybe they’ll have some ideas on what’s going on.” And they can tell me I’m not going crazy, he thought, but maybe that was preferable to this situation.

For the first time in his memory, they all lapsed into uncomfortable silence, Virgil tossing his hood over his head and withdrawing into himself while Patton wrung his hands, Roman sulked, and Logan fumed. He had never seen them like this, never known them to be this upset, especially with each other. Things have gotten tense, people have gotten upset or argued, but this disconnect? It was new and somewhat frightening. Minutes passed like snails, slow and dragging, leaving a film behind. Maybe that was the shock.

Finally, a knock on the door drew them out of their heads, and Thomas got up to let them in. They were in their pajamas, and it was only then he thought to check the time. Midnight.

“I’m sorry for dragging you out this late.” He said automatically, but Joan waved him off.

“It’s clearly important, and what are best friends for if not traveling across town at midnight when something important happens?” Joan joked, but Thomas could only give him a weak smile. “You said something happened with the sides?”

He gestured them in, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not good. I was just chatting with them after I got home, everything was normal, and then they couldn’t sink out.”

“They couldn’t leave?”

He shook his head, hovering by the door and speaking quietly. No point in causing the arguing to start back up before it was necessary. “Roman came in wearing this necklace the Dragon Witch gave him-”

“The Dragon Witch?”

“Apparently they made up recently. Today, I think, the others didn’t seem to know about it. Anyway, they figured that was what was preventing them from leaving so Roman took it off. But it let out this bright light, completely blinded us. I heard them all fall and when I could see again they were unconscious and in their real forms.” At their look he tried to explain, feeling jittery and uncomfortable. That was the panic. Shock? “They look different in the Mind Space, they said. They’ve never looked like this outside of it, apparently, they actively control the change. They still can’t sink out, and they keep arguing..”

Joan placed a hand on his arm, seeing him start to panic (had he ever stopped, though?) and Thomas lent into the steadying touch. He smiled at them, thankful. Finally, they moved into the living room, where the sides were waiting. If their new appearances startled them, they didn’t react.

“So you guys are stuck.”

“Understatement of the year,” Virgil grumbled, and Thomas gave him a disapproving look.

“Don’t be mean to Joan. They are just trying to help.”

“Sorry.” He looked guilty, but Joan waved him off.

“Everyone is upset and tense, I understand. But arguing isn’t going to help anything so can we leave that for when this really bad thing isn’t happening?”

They all nodded, and Joan clapped their hands. “Alright. So, once again, you’re stuck. You’ve all attempted to sink out after you woke I’m assuming?”

“Yeah. Before I felt a barrier, almost. I didn’t notice it at first but looking back it was definitely there. But now…now I don’t feel anything at all.” Patton answered, looking down at where his hands were fidgeting in his lap.

“It’s like the Mind Space is just gone.” Virgil agreed. Logan messed with his glasses again, looking agitated.

“But that’s not possible, unless Thomas had something severe happen to his brain or…he wasn’t breathing anymore. Clearly, neither of those things have happened.”

“Yeah I haven’t bonked my head recently, and I’m still kicking. I think?”

“You are,” Joan assured him, seeing the distress in his eyes. “So that means you’ve all lost your connection with the Mind Space, most likely. Can you still conjure things, or access any of your Mind powers?”

They all waved their hands around to no avail, looking crazy. Frustration was clear to read in all of their expressions. Joan grimaced.

“And my shadows are gone,” Virgil said, rubbing his thumb under his eye. “I’ve always had them, I don’t..”

“So, no powers, no shadows, no connection to the Mind.” Joan ticked off. “Forced appearances, as well. Thomas,”

He looked up. “Yeah?”

“You once mentioned you could feel the connections to them, like strings tying you together. Are those still there?”

Oh. He reached deep into his chest, where the strings he had used to call Virgil had always lied. There was just empty. He couldn’t recall ever feeling this empty. The tightness in his throat returned, and his face fell. A sob burst from his lips. “No. No, they aren’t there anymore. I can’t feel them, I can’t feel you guys.” Tears welled up in his eyes but he didn’t care, struck by the realization. “It’s all empty. I thought that was shock, but..”

Joan looked upset, and he distantly felt bad about bringing them into this, but now he was crying and he couldn’t stop. He was reeled into an embrace, and he went willingly.

“It might be shock, from having the connection broken,” Joan admitted, before looking over his head. “Do you guys still feel..”

It was clear from how they trailed off that the answer was no. They couldn’t feel Thomas anymore, and that wrung another shaking sob from him. It took him a few minutes to gather composure, but eventually, he straightened from the awkward hunched position he had had to make, making a small wince at the wet spot on Joan’s chest. A glance at the other sides showed that he wasn’t the only one crying though. He wiped his eyes.

“So, you have no connection to the Mind, or Thomas. But you’re still corporeal, I can see and hear you. Maybe….you’ve become real people. Somehow.”

Oh. He had been so wrapped up in what had happened, he never stopped to think about what it meant. The others looked just as gobsmacked.

“That’s impossible, though,” Logan whispered, but it was obvious to himself.

“Let’s test it. Have any of you moved from your spots?”

“I’m just so used to not being able it didn’t even occur to me,” Virgil admitted, getting to his feet. He swayed a bit, but didn’t fall. The rest rose as well. Patton took an unsteady step forward, likely stiff from hours sitting, and when he didn’t hit a barrier he took another. Virgil climbed down the stairs to meet him in the middle, and Roman stepped forward too. Patton’s eyes brightened slightly, and he reached for Roman.

“I wonder…” He grabbed Roman’s arm and pulled him into a hug. Roman gasped, eyes going wide, and when Patton pulled back he gave Roman a wobbly smile, face brighter.

“You felt it, right?” He asked, before gesturing Virgil to come closer and pulling him into a hug as well. Virgil let out the same surprised gasp and gripped Patton tight.

“Everything feels like it’s dialed up to, like, 15. Lo, come feel this!” He held out a hand to Logan, who placed his own on top and wove their fingers together. His eyes widened. Patton released Virgil and moved hesitantly in front of Joan.

“May I?” They nodded and suddenly Joan had an armful of Patton, who was beaming like it was Christmas.

“I can touch you,” Joan exclaimed, looking shocked. While they had always been able to see the sides, they had never been able to touch them before. Their hand had always gone right through them, like ghosts.

Thomas looked around his living room and felt a stone in his gut. He had four freshly human sides before him. Four human, terrified, grown adult men who had never lived a day in the real world.

“Is this permanent, do you think?” He asked.

“I think, Logan said haltingly, unsure, “ That we have to assume it is. Go into this with a ‘worst-case scenario’ mindset.”

Four men who didn’t legally exist, permanently in reality. They were in his care now, and that dormant panic made itself known once more. He couldn’t take care of them. He didn’t have the space, let alone the funds. And again, they didn’t legally exist. And how was he going to explain this? Only Joan and Talyn knew he was a manifester!

He caught Virgil’s eye and could tell he was thinking the same thing, saw him work himself into a similar panic.

“How can we live? We don’t exist in the eyes of the government, we have no papers! And without papers, we can’t get jobs! Where will we live? What will we do?” Virgil echoed his earlier thoughts, and Patton’s face fell. Roman was still quiet, arms wrapped around himself and staring at the ground. Logan looked deep in thought, lips moving silently. The tension in the room was back, and suddenly Thomas felt exhausted down to his bones. He just wanted to sleep, and let everything disappear. Just for a little while.

Joan seemed to pick up on this, and as frazzled as they now looked, standing in the center of Thomas’s living room in their pajamas at nearly 1 am, they once again smiled. “It’s late. Let’s order a pizza, I’m sure we’re all hungry, and then call it a night. We aren’t going to get anywhere tonight. Figure it out tomorrow.”

They all sagged, and while Joan quietly ordered they all moved to sit. The sides collapsed, leaning against each other, on one part of the coach while Joan and Thomas sat on the smaller side. He absently thought how lucky he was his couch was too big, but mostly he thought about how comfortable it was, and once again how much he wanted to sleep. There was quiet while they waited for food, but it was born out of exhaustion instead of anger.

Once they started to eat, however, some energy managed to fill them again, and quiet chatter started up. Roman mentioned quietly to Patton how cool it was to have a full sense of taste, while Joan struck up a conversation with Virgil and Logan on living in the Mind Space. He listened to them talk about the bookcase filled with books Thomas has read, about their rooms and the emotions connected, but only when Thomas was with them or they were feeling heightened. Roman chimed in with talk about his Realm filled with creativity and stories, while Patton mentioned the dog they had conjured and kept for a couple of weeks.

By the time the food was gone Thomas was nodding off, but he managed to get up and gather four sets of pajamas, mismatched and some grabbed simply because he didn’t know what would fit them. Like Virgil, who seemed too small for his pants and instead got a pair of boxers he bought a size too small, and Patton who he had to dig out one of his slightly larger shirts for. He wandered back to the living room on autopilot and took them all up to the spare bedroom.

They took the clothes from him and Patton grabbed a bunch of spare blankets, setting up two beds on the floor. They looked as out of it as him, and the chorus of “Goodnight, Thomas”’s were more mumbles than speech. He closed the door behind him and went back down to Joan, who was dozing on the couch.

“Thank you for coming over.” He said softly, “And thank you even more for being so helpful. I couldn’t have made it through tonight without you, and I’ll never be able to express how much it meant to me.”

“Everything is going to be alright, Thomas.” Joan insisted, and he smiled.

“Yeah, it probably will. But would you do me a favor and spend the night, so I know it’s not all some crazy dream tomorrow when I wake up?”

They took the hand he offered and pulled themselves up, giving him a teasing grin.

“What, you thought I was going to leave? It’s nearly 2 am, you owe me a place to sleep, dude.”

They headed sluggishly to bed, and everything else was tomorrow’s Thomas’s problem.

(tagging @strickenwithclairvoyance because they told me to, and they inspired me. Hope you like it! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters! (Also bold of you to assume there won’t be Deceit because he wasn’t ejected.))

#analogical #royality #fanfic #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides #ts sanders sides #ts virgil #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton

59 notes · View notes

cottonblush · 5 years

Text

promise me | lmh

❧ word count: 3,403 maybe?

❧ genre: fluff, one mention of a cut so like gore i guess

❧ notes: installment one of the skz powers au!! this one is kinda a drabble series?? also i’ve discovered i love the whole “i hate u” “u love me” thing a little too much but it’s not hurting anyone so yee to the haw my guys!

The first time Minho realizes he’s a gifted one, he’s on the rooftop of his apartment building, unclipping some extra laundry from the clothes line. The wind picks up all of a sudden and the large bed sheet he just unclipped comes flying at his face. He’s trapped, a tangled mass of fabric and limbs, the opaque sheets doing nothing to aid his vision.

The sheets seem to act as a pair of wings, lifting the young boy into the air. It’s just a couple of feet at first, but then he keeps going higher and higher, and Minho can’t get rid of the sinking feeling in his stomach.

When he finally manages to untangle himself and take in a deep breath, he makes the biggest mistake. He pries open his eyes and looks down. There’s no building below him now, just the apartment complex’s playground and park. It doesn’t help that he’s afraid of heights. In that moment, he feels like a cloud, yet he feels like the weight of the world is pressing down on his shoulders.

The fear overwhelms him, clouding his mind, and Minho starts to freefall out of the sky. He tries to scream but can’t seem to find his voice. All that’s left is the seemingly infinite supply of salty tears welling in his eyes and streaming down his cheeks.

In the few seconds it takes to fall, the world seems to slow down. Minho sees flashes of his past, though there’s not much since he’s only at the ripe age of eight years old. He sees his mom making him ramen with an egg on top for the first time; he sees himself in the mirror, small hands running over the scar on his stomach from a surgery he needed; he sees his friends gathering around him to show him the stray cat they found behind a dumpster; he sees you, his next door neighbor and best friend, on the first day that you two met, eyes wide and curious about all the world could offer.

He won’t get to say goodbye to you or anyone else, Minho realizes. He screws his eyes shut and hopes everyone will at least remember him in a good light.

And then everything goes dark.

“Minho,” comes your high pitched voice after what seems like an eternity, “what are you doing hanging from Mrs. Yang’s terrace? Hammocks are meant to be set up close to the ground, silly! And you can’t use a bedsheet. My daddy says you have to buy a special thingy for it.”

Thankfully, the universe has decided it just isn’t Minho’s time yet, and when he realizes this, the boy scrambles to try and get to the terrace.

“Y/n! Please, help! I don’t wanna be in here anymore.”

You run off, causing Minho’s heartbeat to skyrocket, but you return moments later with Mrs. Yang. The woman quickly sees how serious the situation is and cautions Minho not to move.

“I’ll come get you so stay put,” she says, moving quickly.

Once the boy is safely back on the ground, he can’t stop crying, snot and tears turning his once pristine face into a soppy mess. You take the boy into your arms and the two of you fall to the ground, remaining in a tight embrace. Even though Minho is a couple of months older than you, you know it’s no time to point it out and make fun of him.

Instead, you hold him tighter and hope that only good thoughts can reach him, tiny arms doing the best they can to support the taller and larger boy.

Mrs. Yang calls Minho’s mom and she rushes downstairs to get her son, worried expression softening when she sees him safe and sound. She starts to pry him away from you and pick him up in her arms.

Before he can get away from you, you stick out your pinky finger.

“Promise you’ll tell me what happened?”

“I promise,” comes the reply, a matching pinky finger hastily wrapping around your own to seal the deal.

When Minho comes to terms with the fact that he has powers, specifically the power of flight, the first thing you do is urge him to start training to become a super. It’s your latest obsession, the name ‘Megaman’ leaving your mouth at least a billion times a day.

You tell Minho that you want to marry the famous super one day, regardless of the fact that there’s more than a decade between you two. That’s when the boy starts to think that maybe if he becomes a super, you’ll want to talk only about him instead.

Although it doesn’t take much convincing, actually getting Minho up in the air is the difficult part. You have to take it slow, holding his hand even if he’s only a couple of inches off the ground.

After weeks of the same results, it doesn’t seem that Minho will be able to make any improvements, so you do the only thing your ten year old brain can think of.

You unclasp the silver chain that rests around your neck, pendant shaped the same as the first letter of your name, and put it around his. Your hands come to rest on his shoulders, face serious as you try to pretend you’re like a sergeant from your dad’s favorite war-time movie series.

Minho scrunches his brows and tilts his head as he asks, “What’s this for?”

You giggle, serious façade immediately breaking, “It’s a good luck charm! This way, I can be with you whenever you’re flying and you don’t have to be scared.”

“For real? I can actually keep this? You’re awesome, Y/n! I’ll never feel scared if I have this with me!”

You give the boy a tight hug, a giant smile contouring your lips. Minho mumbles something into the crook of your neck, but you don’t quite catch it, so you pull back, hands still grabbing his shoulders and keeping him at an arm’s width away.

He looks unsurely down at the ground for a moment, contemplating if he should voice what he’s thinking or not. However, when he sees your that your encouraging smile hasn’t faltered one bit, it’s just the boost of confidence he needs.

He places his hands atop your own and says, “The necklace sure is great and all, but do you know what’s even luckier?”

You get pouty for a second, thinking your best friend might dispose of your precious gift. With a frown on your face, you grumble out, “No. And I don’t really care either.”

“It’s you, dummy!”

“Hey! Don’t call me a dummy when you’re the dummy, dummy!”

Minho resists the urge to roll his eyes because of course you’d find it in you to argue in a moment like this.

“Ugh, fine, I’m the dummy,” he concedes. “Anyway, I was thinking you can be my lucky charm! As long as you promise to never leave me, of course. And then we can be best friends forever!”

“Really? That’d be perfect, Minho!”

“Promise? That you’ll be by my side forever?”

“I promise.”

Flash forward a couple years and the two of you are sixteen. You’ve become on of the top students in school, balancing grades and your responsibilities as student council secretary. Minho has made a name for himself as a super, dedicating most of his time to saving lives and counting on you to catch him up when he returns home late at night.

However, with people on the streets becoming more aware of him, it also means bad people are better equipped to deal with him.

It’s one fateful night, the wind is howling in his ears and lightning flashes every couple seconds. He’s managed to sneak his way into a gang meeting, trying his best to calm his heartbeat and memorize every detail about the scheme that’s supposed to occur in the coming weeks.

The lightning ends up being a dangerous adversary, its light illuminating Minho’s crouched figure from his place beneath one of the windows on the second floor. One of the grunts notices something is amiss and whispers a command for the building to go into lockdown. He also alerts a guy who appears to be an interim boss of Minho’s location.

The other grunts have him in no time, using their familiarity of the layout to their advantage and sneaking up on him. They grab his arms, forcefully pressing them against his back, and drag him downstairs to the boss.

Minho finds himself seated in a chair. It feels like an investigation scene from the popular crime show on TV, the nearest source of light being an old lamp shining directly in the teen’s face. He gulps, knowing if whatever he says doesn’t please the boss—and it likely won't—he could end up in big trouble.

However, there’s one more mistake Minho makes, and that is overestimating the amount of leniency he would receive. He doesn’t even get a chance to speak before the breath is knocked out of his lungs. Next comes a sharp punch to the face and he knows that’ll leave a mark that won’t be so easy to cover up.

The gang members are relentless, each taking their turn punching or kicking the poor guy, until it’s finally the leader’s turn.

The bulky old man whips out a switchblade and slowly stalks forward. He places the tip of the cold blade on Minho’s forehead, applying enough pressure to draw blood. Minho’s eyes widen in recognition when he realizes what’s about to happen: the man is going to cut off his mask.

He can’t allow that to happen so he wills his body with all his might to break out of the death grip that the grunts have him in. He flies up into the air, shooting through one of the windows and making his escape. Although he does manage to make it out without anyone seeing his true identity, he flies home with a large cut on his forehead, gash slightly tearing into the edge of his mask.

Minho knows that if he goes home and his parents happen to see him in his current state, they’ll find out he’s a super and even worse, they may forbid him from doing the job he’s come to love so much.

Instead, he lands haphazardly on your bedroom’s balcony. He gives the sliding glass door a weak tap, hoping you’ll hear him over the sound of the raging storm above.

Like an angel sent from above, you do hear his call for help and crack open the door.

“Minho,” you call out, voice laced with drowsiness as it’s almost the middle of the night, “what are you doing? Come inside.”

You slide the door open even more, allowing his drenched body to weasel its way inside. You tiptoe across the room and turn the lights to the lowest setting that the dimmer can possibly allow. When you turn around, you resist the urge to yelp, instead rushing forward as Minho’s body collapses.

“Oh my god, Minho! What happened to you? Look at your face. It's…”

You can’t even finish your sentence, your thumb tracing over the delicate skin on his forehead, not ignoring the way his temperature is rapidly falling.

“We need to get you warmed up first,” you urge.

First, you plug in your space heater and position it in front of your bed. You then grab some spare clothes of Minho’s from your closet and turn, ready to hand them off when you see that his form is too exhausted to move on its own. Carefully, you peel off his suit, embarrassment not even close to being present in your mind due to the severity of the situation. You dress him as quickly as possible, making sure to avoid his open wound when sliding on his shirt.

Lugging his body onto your bed, you cover him with your blanket as well as the winter comforter you usually keep tucked away beneath the bed.

Thankfully, the wound is not as deep as it first appeared, and you hope that you can get away with treating it with ointment and wrapping it in bandages, at least until you can get Minho to a doctor.

You lean over his weakened body as you dab the cut with the necessary ointments and creams. Minho doesn’t make it easy for you. His right hand refuses to let go of its grip on your left wrist, skin never losing contact with your own. However, you let it be, knowing that just like that fateful day years ago, the best thing to calm him down is a nurturing touch.

He falls asleep like that and you can only hope for the best, refusing to sleep until you hear his breath even out.

When the sun rises the next morning and Minho comes to, you practically pounce on him, arms winding tightly around his neck.

“Can’t breathe,” the young man chokes out.

You instantly jump back, worry plaguing your features and tears threatening to spill onto your skin.

“S-Sorry,” you say, voice warbling and hands self consciously coming to rest at your side.

Minho softens upon seeing you so concerned, hands reaching out to grab your own.

“I’m fine,” he tries to assure you.

He tells you that he feels much better; he can’t even feel the cut on his head anymore, and that causes you to laugh, telling him he’s being absurd.

“I was so worried, you know? I really thought you were gone for a second there.”

“Don’t you remember our promise? I’m never leaving you and you’re not getting away from me anytime soon.”

“Of course, I remember. But I want us to make a new promise. I want you to promise me to always be careful on missions and always, always, always make sure to come back home safe to me.”

“I promise. I love you, Y/n. I hope you know that.”

“I love you more. And I’ve always known, dummy!”

“Hey!”

“You can’t even argue this time. You literally have a giant cut on your head. You are officially the dummy.”

“Oh god… Do you think my mom will notice?”

“It’s impossible not to. But maybe we can tell her you tripped on the way to school? She must’ve already left for work by now so at least you won’t have to worry about that for now.”

“Ah, what would I do without you?”

“Don’t know. Probably something dumb, dummy.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me!”

“…I hate when you’re right.”

You’re seventeen, not quite a dancing queen, when you’re first asked out to a school event: the winter formal dance. You’re giddy with excitement, chatting with your girl friends about the insta-worthy proposal all day. A classmate who’d recently been in a group project with you, Younghoon, asked you by stopping you at your locker with a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates.

Because you’re so caught up in the excitement, Minho has to learn of this event through social media, grip turning his knuckles white when he sees that a picture of you and Younghoon in a side hug is your most recent post. He thinks bitterly to himself that you would’ve liked lilies or snapdragons instead and would’ve much rather preferred Haribo sour gummy bears to a cheesy box of chocolates.

He doesn’t know why he’s so irked, to be honest. He thinks maybe it’s because you’ve always attended school functions together as a tradition and you could’ve at least given him a heads up.

However, on the day of the dance, when Minho sees you leaving your apartment through the tiny peephole on his front door, he swears his heart stops. Even through the distorted view of the glass, you look stunning. Your hair is styled and you’re wearing a beautiful floor length gown, but the only thing Minho can think is how you seem to glow. You’re not wearing any makeup but it looks like a fairy came and sprinkled you with glitter and fairy dust. Your million watt smile is just as bright as any other day, but it has Minho’s heart going a mile a minute like he’s seeing it for the first time.

While you spend the night dancing with your supposed prince charming, Minho spends his night at a table sulking. His close friend, Jisung, tries to get him to dance with one of the many girls who are head over heels for him, but he doesn’t have the heart to, telling his friend that he’s just not feeling well.

As Minho downs his sixth glass of punch and crushes the flimsy plastic cup between his fingers, he makes a promise to himself. He promises that from now on, he’ll try his best to make you see him as someone you can spend the rest of your life with. Because maybe all of the 'I love you’s that he’s said to you weren’t a way to express platonic appreciation, but actually are his way of showing how he wants to be able to call you his own and vice versa.

Nothing seems to be catching your attention. You’re quite dense for an eighteen year old. Even his famed flirting and aegyo tactics breeze right by you. Minho swears if he could use one word to describe the whole situation, it would be the infamous r/woosh.

Everyone in your friend group knows about his not-so-little crush, but they’re waiting for him to make a big move. However, Minho’s used all the moves he knows. He’s about to give up hope when a friend suggests a last ditch idea: the silent treatment. That’ll have to get you to notice him.

He never predicted it would be so hard, though. Seeing you in the halls and living right next door to you but not saying a word isn’t as easy as it first sounded. You’re the first person he wants to speak to when he gets a good grade. His finger hovers over your number when he sees anything he thinks you would enjoy doing together (which is pretty often since he basically thinks about you 24/7). You’re the first thing on his mind when he wakes up and the last thing his mind remembers before he goes to sleep.

It’s taking a toll on you too because after a long week, you corner him at his favorite dinner.

Sliding into the booth across from him with a serious expression adorning your face, you inquire, “Did I do something wrong? I swear I haven’t and there was probably just a misunderstanding.”

“No,” Minho denies. “There was no misunderstanding. I just needed some time to clear my head, I guess. Something my friend said really got to me.”

It’s not a complete lie, but Minho would rather be swallowed by a black hole than admit he resorted to something as petty as the silent treatment, especially when it comes to wooing a girl.

“Next time, give me a heads up, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

You change the subject, offering to split a milkshake with him, eyes turning their focus from his face to the menu in front of him. You use your fingers to maneuver the menu around to face you, calling over a waitress. You order a vanilla milkshake with two straws and no maraschino cherry on top: the classic order for the two of you.

Minho hesitantly asks after taking a sip of the cold and sweet milkshake, “Hey, I know we’ve made a lot of promises, but I want you to make me one more.”

When you don’t reply but look at him with attentive eyes and an open heart, encouraging him to feel comfortable and speak his mind, he gets the extra boost of confidence he needs.

“Promise me you’ll give me a chance.”

“What? Wait, a chance at what?”

“I guess I should’ve said, 'give us a chance.’ Go out with me?”

The smile on your face is so bright and full of joy that Minho swears he’ll go blind if he sees it again, but the thought is dismissed when you jump up and reach across the table to pull him into a tight embrace.

Placing a light kiss on the tip of Minho’s nose, causing it to scrunch up in an adorable manner, you whisper, “I promise.”

56 notes · View notes