#and any chance for relaxed six hours traveling back to my apartment are gone | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blessedlance · 3 years

Text

pretty baby.

[r18+]

[wc:] 4k

[cw:] sub!atsumu, softdom!reader, femdom, oral (f. receiving), riding, pegging, mommy kink, puppy kink, minor dacryphilia, collar-play, restraints

! haikyuu manga timeskip spoilers. atsumu is 24. !

a/n: oh my god i haven’t written for leisure in literally 10 years i hope this is bearable LOL. @luvsicksubs wrote a lil tidbit about sub!atsumu a while ago and i have not known peace ever since so big thank you to ari for the inspo! pls enjoi :9

Atsumu’s been gone lately. A lot.

Too much.

You know it’s not his fault. The Jackals' practices have been brutal lately. So when Atsumu does eventually trudge his way back to your shared apartment every evening, he can only muster up enough energy to shower and collapse into bed. You’ve had to wake him more than once, chiding him to get up and at least dry his hair before bed.

“You can’t afford to get yourself sick by sleeping with wet hair, ‘Tsumu.” You’d whisper, shaking him gently awake. Usually he’d just groan in response and bury himself further against your body heat beneath the comforter--unwilling to give up even a second of precious, blissful sleep. You’d even gone so far as to physically pull his heavy, six foot athlete’s body out of the bed and into the bathroom to dry it for him once or twice.

It’s for his health, you reason. You can afford to pamper him a little--especially when he’s been working so hard. And the way his body slumps while he sits, his features softening--long eyelashes kissing the tops of his cheeks as he dozes off into half-sleep at the feel of your fingers tussling his hair with the gentle heat of the blow dryer… He becomes so soft in those moments, like putty in your hands.

It’s dangerous, because it makes you crave the sight of him like this--fragile and reliant on the comfort of your touch--even more.

You sigh. Reminding yourself again, for seemingly the millionth time since this excessive practicing for the championships started,

‘It’s not his fault.’

He’s been good. So, so good. Trying so hard to make sure you know he loves you and he’s sorry. Texting you to check in whenever he has the chance.

> how are you today?

> how’s work going??

> what’s for lunch??? ლ(≧ڡ≦ლ)

Sometimes sending videos of himself and Hinata hashing out new plays (only the ones they’ve mastered, though. You may be intimately familiar with every embarrassing piece of him, but he still wants to try to look cool in front of his girlfriend.)

And it helps. It really does. But you also know the texts are just as much for his own sake as they are for yours. You know how needy Atsumu gets when you two are apart.

You remember the time he’d called you from his hotel room after an away game in Tokyo. How he whined into the phone at the sound of your voice when you whispered.

“Touch yourself for me.”

The way a soft cry escaped him at your command--your name leaving his lips with a breath.

You want to feel him like that again. To see him beneath you, squirming and desperate--begging for you to just touch him, just sit on his face, his cock, anything you want just please--

You abruptly stop your line of thinking--not daring to continue dwelling on this recurring fantasy. Atsumu doesn’t deserve the punishment you crave to dole out on him to relieve this frustration.

… But he might want it.

Championships are tomorrow. Just 24 hours stand between you and the feeling of Atsumu Miya’s taut muscles beneath your fingertips.

You take a breath, summoning the remnants of your willpower.

You could do this. You would make certain that the wait would be worth it.

For both of you.

---

The Black Jackals win their first match because of course they do. Honestly, sometimes you feel a bit bad for the opposing teams. Their skill, their teamwork, their passion, their absolute willpower to win is stifling. Atsumu texts you that they’re going out for celebratory dinner and drinks. Bokuto’s idea. (Obviously). He promises he’ll be home as soon as he can. They’ve all got tomorrow morning off, and a whole day before the next round of matches. Some indulgence is well-deserved.

You type out your reply.

> Take your time and enjoy yourself! You’ve earned it. 💕

Knowing you’ve got at least two hours or more before the boys’ exhaustion ushers them all home, you decide to spend some time... preparing.

You’re reclined on the couch, watching something you can comfortably give your half-assed attention to while scrolling on your phone. You hear the front door unlocking, the handle turning, and your heart leaps into your throat. The thought of finally, finally having Astumu all to yourself makes you absolutely giddy.

You turn expectantly, and can’t help the way your lips curl upward into a smile.

Atsumu pushes the door open and turns toward you, already smiling when he opens his mouth.

“Hey.” You murmur.

“Hey.” He breathes back, and you watch the way his features relax at the sight of you. The way the confident, assiduous Atsumu Miya--a man who wakes up every single day and strives for perfection in everything and every one---melts into something softer.

Something that’s silently begging for you to tear him apart and piece him back together again.

He slips off his shoes, drops his gym bag to the floor, and brings his long, heavy body to lay over yours on the couch.

His face--tinted pink (presumably from the drinks)--buries itself against your neck, lips pressed to your skin.

Your fingers assume their familiar position, nestled in the blonde locks atop his head.

“Missed you…” You say lowly against his ear.

The small shiver that runs down his spine does not escape your notice.

“I’ve been here every night!” He protests.

“You know what I mean.” Your fingers press against his head, tugging on the strands the slightest bit.

“Mmm…” He affirms softly--your skin keenly feeling the gentle hum against its surface. He knows what you mean. He’s been here, yes, but it’s felt more like the ghost of him--wisping into your bed for a few hours and gone again in the morning.

“You were really in the zone today.” You comment. “I felt bad for the other team.”

He huffs out a small laugh. “Don’t. They played fine. We were just better.”

“Hmm…” You take your unoccupied hand and run a single finger up the curve of his spine.

He exhales, and you listen for the tremble in his breath you know will be there.

Just a little more.

“Either way, you were so good.” You can’t contain the coy lilt your voice takes on. You know damn well what you’re doing--using the very words that always make him quiver. He knows what you’re doing, too.

Atsumu thinks he doesn’t mind.

It’s quiet for a beat. The two of you simply basking in the warmth of your bodies pressed against each other. You stretch beneath him, and… readjust yourself in a way that presses your breasts against him just a little bit more...

And Atsumu finally, finally breaks.

He inhales sharply, and lets the subsequent exhale freely pass against your neck. A muffled word that sounds a lot like a plea leaves his throat.

“What was that?” You ask, purposely grazing your lips against his reddening ear.

“Please…” He begs.

You consider being mean for a moment. Consider pushing him to his limit in desperation. The way those sharp brown eyes would turn glassy and tearful, his dark brows pulled together, pleading you to hurry up and take him--touch him--let him touch you--fucking anything. However you want, wherever you want. Make him vocalize that burning desire, and only concede when he well and truly begs.

But that can always be arranged another time.

You’re far too heady with desire yourself to enact such cruelty on him right now. Not after he’s been so good.

You shift your weight, moving to switch your positions by sitting up and pressing him beneath you. Your straddle his hips, purposely pressing your weight down against his pelvis ever-so-slightly.

“You’ve been working so hard, ‘Tsumu…” You murmur, lowering the top half of your body to lean over his. Hands sliding under the hem of his shirt, running up along the taut muscles that tremble at your touch. “Such a good boy…”

Atsumu’s bites his lip in an effort to stifle the deep moan that leaves his chest. The way his body almost involuntarily reacts to that phrase every. single. time… It’s just too good to pass up.

You wet your lips.

“Let me make you feel good.”

And you press those lips ever-so-softly to the juncture between his jaw and neck. Soft touch turning to a light bite, and then back to a soothing kiss.

Atsumu is crumbling--his hardening length pressing insistently against you.

“I got everything ready. We can use whatever you want: rope,” and you press a slow open-mouth kiss to his neck,

“your collar,” then one to his collarbone,

“a toy,” traveling down to his pecs,

“the strap…” ending just beneath his belly button.

You look up at him from beneath your lashes, watching keenly for his expression to shift in interest at any certain one.

Atsumu doesn’t give an immediate answer, his gaze unable to meet your own. Your hands trail back down his body, grazing a nipple with your fingernail just to see the way he twitches at the sensation.

“C’mon baby, how am I supposed to treat my good boy if he doesn’t tell me what he wants?” You purr, bringing your hands to the hem of the worn, oversized t-shirt covering your top half down to the juncture of your thighs. You’d snatched it from his dresser earlier to lounge in. Another carefully plotted detail. You knew just how riled up he got at the sight of you wearing his shirts. Even more so if he lifted it only to find those black and gold lacy panties underneath… Or if there was nothing…

Stretching your body, you pull the shirt up and off of your torso, tossing it aimlessly behind you. Atsumu’s gaze immediately returns to you--spotting that very set’s match: a black bra with intricate gold stitching around the lace adorning your skin. His hands are on you in an instant--palms sliding up your ribs to reach your breasts and gently squeezing around them.

Astumu had never been good with the concept of patience.

Normally, you’d stop those big, calloused setter hands in their tracks--admonishing him for not asking permission, first. But this was about him. About fulfilling every whim his exhausted mind and body had the energy left to want. You could allow a little insubordination tonight.

“You even wore my favorite.” He grins, that cheeky, self important tone of his sneaking back out. You smile coyly and tilt your hips downward, pressing your bare core against his still-restrained cock. He inhales sharply--dropping the attitude once more.

“Part of the reward.” You grin. “Now, what does my good boy want?”

His eyes drift upwards from their fixation on your breasts, meeting your gaze.

“I want…” He bites his lip. “Wanna make you feel good.”

Your eyes widen at the admission, but he’s speaking again before you can inquire.

“You’re always so patient with me when practice gets like this. I just want to... To give you a reward, too.”

You’re taken aback for a beat, pleasantly surprised at the acknowledgement. Atsumu still manages to surprise you with how observant he is. One of the more unexpected traits he shares with Osamu. Your eyes soften and you reach up to gently cup his face. He turns his head to kiss your hand and murmurs against your palm.

"Let me taste you. Please."

He knows how you get when he’s busy like this. How--despite your authority and confidence in the bedroom--you still long for his affection and crave his touch when he’s gone.

And this… This is the perfect way for him to express his gratitude while still pleasing both of you.

“Okay.” You breathe, moving to kneel over his face. “Whatever you want,” you gently drop your weight toward his mouth. “my sweet boy.”

He practically preens at the praise, moaning against your core. Again, Atsumu demonstrates his struggle with patience and savoring the moment. In an instant, he’s gripping your thighs and pulling them closer against the sides of his face. You know you could sit your entire weight atop him and he’d thank you, but tonight calls for something gentler. It’s enough to know you’re the only person who gets to see him like this. The only one who gets to watch the diligent, cocksure Astumu Miya, one of--if not the--best setters in Japan, become so vulnerable and desperate beneath you.

He flattens his tongue and runs it slowly up from the start of your opening to the top of your clit.

“Fuck, ‘Tsumu…” You moan, hands rushing to grasp at his hair. He groans, too, at the sensation of your fingers tugging--the hum sending a vibration through your body. You grind your hips, silently urging him on, and his tongue laves at your clit with small kitten licks. The feeling of those tiny, gentle laps against your most sensitive spot, so diligent and soft--it’s like electricity coursing through you, running up into every limb.

“Mmhmm.” He hums against you. He knows just how you like it. When he services you like this--like the obedient puppy he is. “So wet… Y’taste s’good...” He says, hot breath fanning against you while he catches his breath for a moment.

You press yourself back against him insistently. “Who said you could take a break? Use your fingers, too.”

His mouth is back against you immediately, right hand sliding beneath your thigh to reach your opening. Carefully, he presses two fingers against it--testing the give, while his tongue continues to lick and suck at that sensitive nub. Spit has dribbled down from his mouth to where his fingers are pressed, and he slides his digits against the wetness, adding to the natural lubricant. Then, finally, he pushes those long middle and ring fingers up and into you. They slide in easily despite the way you feel yourself clench around the intrusion. He was right--you’re soaked. He finds a comfortable rhythm to compliment his tongue’s lashings easily and your head falls back, a deep moan escaping past your lips.

“‘Tsumu… ‘Tsumu, fuck just like that--you do it so well for me, baby… Right there--”

You’re cut off by the feeling of his fingers curling within you--searching, and then pressing against that spot so nicely.

Your thigh muscles twitch against his cheeks--breath fleeing from your lungs at the sudden rush.

“Yes, ‘Tsumu--fuck yes.”

You chance a look down at his face. Those long lashes closed, brows knit together in concentration while he pleasures you. Atsumu’s a pretty boy, but you think he’s prettiest like this.

Fuck, you want more of that desperate expression. Want to edge him over and over until he’s drooling and can’t remember his own fucking name.

You’re getting close. That climbing ecstasy rising dangerously high within you. You pull yourself off him before you can climb too high, and the release of suction from his mouth makes a small, wet pop.

“You eat it so well, baby. So, so good for me, pretty boy.” You coo, caressing the sides of his face. His lips are pink and wet and you return your hips to their place atop his length. His lip wobbles with a whimper, back arching against you in search of more.

“I think you’ve earned your reward now, don’t you?” Your eyelids fall, half-closed seductively while you lean your chest toward his face. You reach behind your back and release the clasp of your bra. His hands tighten themselves into fists, trying to restrain the urge to reach up and touch. The fingers of your left hand splay out against his chest, holding your weight, while the right moves down to pull off his boxer briefs. Then, your wet folds are sliding against his erect, bare, length. Slowly, up and down.

“Mmm please can I--can I touch--”

You interrupt him with a small lick against those still-wet lips and chuckle quietly to yourself.

Oh, so now he’s ready to ask first?

“You can.” You affirm, reaching down to line him up with your entrance. His breath is coming harder now, those hardened pecs rising and falling beneath you. The anticipation is rapidly unraveling him. Atsumu’s hands are on your back, tugging your chest back down towards him. As they slide forward around your ribcage to grasp your breasts, his gaze flits up to you.

“Can I--?”

“Mmhmm.” You nod--knowing what he wants. His mouth closes around your nipple, sucking with that perfect amount of harshness to tighten the coiling pressure in your lower body. His tip rests right against your opening. You can see the precum dribbling out of him--can feel the way he’s pushing himself slightly further up--desperate to get inside. Were this any other time, you’d reprimand him for such impertinence. Tie his hands above his head and deny him completely. ‘And you were being so good, too, asking permission and everything. You wanna be inside that bad, maybe I should remind you how it feels to be on the receiving end, hmm?’

But, honestly, he’d nearly tipped you over the edge with just his mouth earlier. You were becoming impatient, yourself.

Finally, blessedly, you sink yourself down onto his cock, revelling in the way his mouth falls open and his head flings backward against the couch pillow with a cry.

“Mmm.. ‘s it that good, baby?” You tease.

“‘S been a while… So tight…” He hisses, almost like it’s too much.

“Yeah?” You tease. Your hips are gradually picking up speed. Slowly rising up, up, up, as far as you can go before it feels like he might just fall out of you, and then your hip fall again, taking his full length deep inside.

“‘Tsumu…” You say, rising back up again. “I wanted to pamper you tonight... “ and you slide back down. “Give my cute, sweet boy a reward for all his hard work.”

Atsumu keens, whimpering beneath you.

“But I think I wanna be a little selfish, too.” You breathe, leaning in close enough for your breath to fan against his face. “Is that ok baby?”

A high pitched moan leaves Atsumu’s throat, and you clench around him.

“Yes…” He sighs between ragged breaths. “Yes... Please, I--”

“Please, what?” You interrupt him.

“P-please…” You watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. “Please, mommy…”

“Ohhhhh, that’s my good boy.” You moan, restarting the rise and fall motion of your cunt around him. “Gonna make you feel so good. Just the way you deserve, ‘Tsumu. But you have to promise you won’t cum until I say so, mmk?” You’re holding his face, running your right index finger along the line of his jaw with a feather-light touch.

And Astumu Miya shudders beneath you, staring up in reverence. The way those big brown watery eyes look at you… He’d look so cute with a collar clasped around his neck right now.

He nods. “I--I won’t. I promise. Please.”

Your hand moves up to stroke his hair softly. “Good boy.”

You restraighten your back in your seated position atop him. Your hands come to rest against his chest for leverage, and you begin riding him in earnest. Atsumu’s eyelids fall closed again, head thrown back while his mouth hangs open in pleasure.

“Is this what you wanted ‘Tsumu? Just want to feel me fuck myself on you until I’m satisfied?” You tease as you bounce. You slow to almost a halt and grind your hips in a circle, feeling the way his cock buries itself to the hilt. Atsumu’s hands are balled into tight fists against the couch. He’s moaning freely now--little cries escaping him as your cunt eagerly swallows him down over and over and over again.

“So good… You’re so good inside me, ‘Tsumu. Stretching me out so much every time. I know you know how good that feels.”

“Ahnn--!” He keens at the memory. The way your soft hands had pressed his legs up against his chest. Wetness from the lube dripping down so tantalizingly slow between his ass cheeks. The cock of your strap buried within him. How utterly full he had felt, stretched around it while you softly cooed praises at him, stroking his cock.

Fuck he wanted to cum like that again.

More than that, he just wanted to cum. His hands clench and unclench--mouth hanging open while he revels in memory--in the feeling of your tight, wet, heat sliding up and down him just how he likes--how he needs.

“I told you it was OK to touch, baby.” You reach down to grasp his hands with your own, bringing them to rest on your hips. “Hold onto me while I fuck myself on you.” You whisper.

Atsumu’s eyes open at that, watching your body bounce on him. HIs left hand hastily comes up to grasp a breast, relishing the feel of the soft, pliable skin in his grasp.

You gasp lightly at the sensation of his hand grazing your sensitive nipple. “Fuck yeah. So good for me baby--so good. Gonna make you cum in me like this--”

Atsumu’s head falls back against the cushions again, his expression knotted in pleasure. “You feel so good. So good… Please… Please I’m-- Ahh!-- I’m getting close.”

“Aww you’re close already? You wanna cum baby?” You shouldn’t tease. You know you’re close, too. That cresting peak getting closer and closer with every push of his cock into your deepest places. Your breath is ragged from the exertion of your body. You reach behind you blindly, refusing to miss an instant of Atsumu’s delicious expression. Eventually, you find the small bullet vibrator you’d stashed beneath the cushions earlier. You bring the toy to your clit and immediately feel it; that powerful wave looming just behind--threatening to take you over the edge. You steele yourself the best you can, inhaling deeply.

Atsumu slides his eyes open at the sound and unleashes the mostly ungodly, moan. His voice trembles when he speaks.

“Can I--can I come? Please--please baby let me come. Let me come.” His hands hold fast to your hips, grip growing steadily tighter as the sensations continue to climb. Faster now--exponentially faster. He’s not sure he could stop if he wanted to.

“Mmmm hearing you beg like that… Good boy. You can cum, baby. I’ll even cum with you for being so good. Go ahead. Cum in this tight pussy.” Your words are rushed, breath catching here and there. “Give it to me.”

And Atsumu shatters.

The way his cry lilts up--high-pitched and unabashed. That wave crashing into him so hard and so completely it takes you down under with him. Atsumu’s mind is empty. Nothing but blinding white as he expends everything he has in him in an instant. His name spills past your lips over and over like a mantra while you ride out your high. The two of you so in-sync, it feels as though your cunt convulses in time with his every pulse. Everything feels so, astonishingly good and intimate.

You’re both breathing heavily, eyes shut tight as that shared bliss slowly dissipates. You let yourself come down to rest on his chest. It’s suddenly very quiet save for your shared breaths. Eventually you rise onto your elbows, face directly over his.

“I love you…” Atsumu murmurs, eyes slightly flitting about while he studies the intricacies of your face. He memorized them all long ago, but even in this he is never sated. Your eyes soften, chest fluttering at his tone: so tender and soft.

“I love you, too.” You say, gently caressing his face. “So much.”

Atsumu can’t help the smile spreading across his face. In one quick motion, his arms are around your neck and tugging your face down toward him. His head tilts, lips melding themselves against yours when they make contact. The kiss is unusually tender, his lips trying to convey what his words cannot: how he is so thankful and lucky to have you. You, who understands how dear his passion, his career, is to him yet helps him remain grounded so that it does not consume him entirely. You, who remains so, so patient when he is away. You, who is always there to help him take care of himself when he is too busy or exhausted. You, who holds him when he finally fractures under the stress of giving his everything all the time--and who helps him put his pieces back together again and get back at it.

Your head returns to its resting place on his chest. His heartbeat steady beneath you, lulling you to sleep. You both need to get up, clean up, and get into your actual bed, but the bliss of finally feeling Atsumu’s hard body beneath you. Knowing it is completely yours, at least for a short while… You don’t want to relinquish it for even a second.

There’s another beat of silence before you speak.

“Wanna go to ‘Samu’s and get tuna tomorrow?” You ask.

Atsumu groans his approval loudly--so much so one would think he hadn’t just finished a massive meal with the Jackals. That signature cheeky grin returns to his face.

“Oh my god I love you.”

#atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #sub!atsumu #atsumu smut #haikyuu smut #atsumu such a lil bastard i wanna take him down a peg if u kno what i mean ;)))#miya atsumu

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booksweet · 3 years

Note

Could I request a Gojo fic/drabble/whatever based around Halsey’s song Colors?? I feel like it fits Gojo perfectly. Angsty. Fluffy. Whatever you’re feeling.

Hollow Purple

starring: sorcerer!Gojo x human!reader

synopsis: there was happiness when blue and red met, but they didn't know grey would claim their place in between them.

contents/warnings: ANGST, SFW, slightly mention of blood, trauma, violence (if I miss something, please warn me), both reader and Gojo are 18+

WC: + 2k

A/N: hello, anon! I swear to god I tried to make it a fluff, but I coulnd't, it screamed angst on my mind. This request reminded me I'm into writing pain stuff like my heart was broken a thousand times, and I wish I could say sorry for the pain, but I'm NOT hahaha no regrets. Enjoy!

tags @noritoshiikamo

main navi | masterlist

You were gone. You were gone and destroyed every piece of him, every inch of him were carved by you.

He knew by the first time he saw you that you'd have so much power over him, you could end him without even using words.

And that's what happened.

You with your beautiful eyes, and beautiful red dress. You broke him.

His blue eyes now devoid of bright, of color.

But he knew it was his fault.

His fault to insist bringing you to his world while you should've had stayed in yours, oblivion to everything related to jujutsu. Yet, he couldn't regret it. He would never regret meeting you, and being with you this whole time until you got apart.

There he was, above the skies, searching for cursed spirits who ran away from him, their fear reasoned since he was the strongest above all. He couldn't care less about their feelings. Within the curtain, without non-jujutsu sorceres, he just wanted to finish that spirits as fast as he could to call his day off and eat some sweets.

"Guess I'll have to go a little rough now, uh?" With a movement of his hands, he felt his cursed energy shaking inside him like an ocean of power, such powers had he overwhelmed by years until he could plenty control them.

But suddenly he felt another presence, aside cursed spirits and jujutsu sorcerers, he felt a human presence. With a frown of his browns, he took off his blindfolds, revealing beautiful blue eyes, in order to find out who or what was that feeling. His flowing energy all at once disrupted.

And then, he found you. He found you walking calmly through the lonely streets wearing a red dress he could never forget. "What an interesting..." He muttered checking out if you were truly human, six-eyes working hard to find it and, when he was certainly of it, his interest on you just grew even harder.

You were about to cross an alley between two buildings and he took the chance to teleport there by connecting his hands. You took a few steps and stopped to admire some store's window and he couldn't help but wonder how you were still there in that chaotic place so relaxed and withou fear.

"Who are you?" He came closer to you and you stepped back with surprise, staring at that tall white-haired man with suspicious eyes and a smirk on his lips.

"Who's wanna know?" Your hands ready to punch his face if he dared to try something on you. His growing interest reached alarming levels as his heart bumped hard on his chest.

"I'm Gojo Satoru," He said without approaching you, and with a bow, he added. "The strongest above all. At your service."

"The strongest?" You said while lifting your chin up to him in defiance. "Oddly of you to say that, isn't?"

And he at that right moment, he knew he was lost. He was lost to you.

- x -

He was supposed to protect you, he was supposed to take care of you ever since you met. Instead, he brought you danger, he brought you pain, he brought you despair.

What's the point of being blessed with six-eyes if he couldn't protect the only one he cared the most?

Not a bless, but a curse. A sin held upon his shoulders. A burden so heavy he couldn't breath.

A sin so harmful that had stained you. Your naive soul. Innocent. Heavenly.

And he missed you. He missed your red lips. You red clothes. He missed how your smile seemed to warm him just like the red sunset you two watched once. His blue eyes missed staring at your for hours, drowning in yours.

Blue and red.

Red and blue.

Two parts independent from each other, yet they floated against them, their souls wiling to be one.

Convergence and divergence.

Divergence and convergence.

And when both opposites reunite...

The second time you met, Gojo wasn't on a mission and you weren't in danger at all. You had an average day and stopped by a coffee shop to drink some hot coffee, eat your favorite sweet and maybe read your favorite book just to get away from craziness of your life, you wanted to relax. You were at your favorite table, alone, and the costumers were passing around you and you weren't giving them attention when the doorbell left out a "ring!".

He couldn't help but desire some sweets, it was his nature as sweet-eater. He knew he would bring attention to him, he was tall, handsome as hell and was wearing a blindfold, of course everyone would've looked at him.

But you hadn't looked at him. You didn't even take your eyes out of the pages to check what happend at the cafe. Nevertheless, once again you caught his attention and he recognized you from your first meeting. "What do we have here?" He muttered with a glimpse of a smile on the corner of his lips.

He ordered a chocolate cake and signed the waiter to take it to your table. Meanwhile, he moved his long legs on tour way, like you were a force bringing him closer and closer each step. He moved the chair loudly and had his seat in front of you. "Hello, Y/N! Long time no see, ugh?"

Surprised by his suddenly entrance, you put your book down and looked straight at him. That weird man you met months ago, still you felt different about him. "Long time no see, strongest above all" you replied playfully. "What bring your majesty up here?"

— x —

When you third met, it was your first date. That turned into a second, and then a third, a fourth... And suddenly you were about all his life, above your weird friendship. All at once you became the one he needed the most to feel himself.

Yet he chose not to tell you about jujutsu. He chose not to tell you about his powers. About why he couldn't stay a little longer with you at your place. About where he would've been travel out of city for weeks without giving any news if he was okay.

He dissapeared for weeks in a roll. And you worried about him. About his blue eyes. You worried about never going to see him again, even though you didn't figure out what you feared at all.

Once, he came back of one of those long trips, after several weeks of nothing about him, but what he gave you to remind of him — his shirt, a photograph of you two, one of his blindfolds.

And you couldn't help but cry while kissing him. You couldn't help but to say you loved him you never wanted for him to disappear. And he would retrieve, he would say he loved you so hard you had him in your hands. He was yours to be loved, to be destroyed.

The strongest on his knees at a human's mercy.

Had never his eyes sight such a colorful being, such a colorful existence. He was at your mercy, his existence, his entire being was yours to paint, to stain, to rip him apart if you wanted.

And then, when you two lay down together, messy sheets and pillows. Blue and red met once again, but not apart, they were together. That time blue and red turned into a beautiful tone of purple.

— x —

Someday you would find out, he knew it. Yet, he still longed for time to be with you, time to be himself without necessarily being the strongest, the head of his clan, the balance between cursed spirits and jujutsu sorcerers.

But he knew he had no time, you had no time with him. There wasn't enough time with jujutsu and curses. They would've come for you by anytime.

He masked his worries from you. He always seemed so happy in his nonchalant and playful way. Always trying to annoy you and make you laugh everytime you spent together.

You mocked the "strongest above all" out of him every opportunity you had. And this had him caring about you more and more.

But then it wasn't a joke anymore.

Jujutsu were real.

Cursed spirits were real.

And you were just a human.

Alone.

Blood. Red. Everything is red. Everything is blood. Pain. You were in pain screaming. You couldn't see what hurt you, but that ominous feeling was still there in your place. "What happened? What happened? Who are you? Who are you?" You couldn't help keep muttering it like a prayer, thinking of Gojo who was to come by and see your hurt state.

But Gojo Satoru felt the overflowed cursed energy arisen from your place. His bare eyes naked with worry and, for the first time, fear. And then he broke. Every piece of him.

He found you on the floor, muttering non-sense words — including his name in your dizzy state — blood running over you limbs, torso and head. A cut on your beautiful face. And above you, at the ceiling, that goddamn cursed spirit laughing out loud mocking you. Mocking your pain. Your despair.

He ran out of control. He released this powers untamed, uncontrolled. In a blink of an eye he exorcised that cursed spirit from existence. He was furious, feral. He could bring fire to the world if it means to keep you safe, to keep you alive. "Y/N?" He came closer to you, checking out your pulse as his hand held your wrist. It was so weak his heart almost stopped. "Don't leave me, please. You don't deserve to die."

— x —

When everything fell apart, he took you to Shoko at Jujutsu High nursery. She healed your physical wounds in silence while he stayed by your side. You kept unconscious the process, sometimes mumbling while your expression turned into a painful one.

When you woke up at his place, you said nothing. Nothing came out from your mouth, even though he tried to make you speak. He kissed your forehead, your cheeks. You could hear him say "Love, love, love, please, talk to me" in a desperate broken tone.

Yet you couldn't say a thing.

When purple turned into grey, everything faded away. Everything blurred.

Happiness overpowered by despair and pain. You were broken such as the beautiful thing you two had.

"Y/N, please, please, I'm begging," Once more his voice muffled on your ears. Why they hold such pain? "I'm on my knees, Y/N, please, come back, come back to me."

He told you the truth about him so many times expecting some reaction, something from you. Yet he received anything at all. You were numb to reality, there was nothing he could do about that.

But one day, after weeks and weeks of him trying to call you back, you spoke for the first time. Pale eyes meeting him lifeless. And he felt his world falling apart again. "I want to go" You whispered and he widened his pretty eyes full of tears.

"What, Y/N?"

"I want to leave. I wanto to go away from here. Take me out, take me out, take me out..." You kept saying repeatdly, each time a knife stabbing his heart.

"Y/N, love..." He tried to touch your hair, but you moved away from him.

"No, no," You muttered afraid. "It's your fault. The monsters. The blood. The pain..." You shrunk yourself in your bed, crying. "The nightmares. It's your fault." Your crying getting louder and louder. "I wish I could forget you."

"Y/N, I-I," He struggled his words, afraid and crying. "You know I can protect you, you know I will."

Your voice cold in his ears aside your tears. "No, you can't."

— x —

Blue bright eyes once, but not anymore. Not when the reason they shone for now It's gone. When you've chosen to forget him since your accident.

That was what you asked, to forget. To forget the pain, the blood the nightmares, him...

It was quite easy to manipulate your memories, cursed energy manipulation and then it's done. Not that it means it did not hurt him, but it had to be done.

When light came back to your eyes, Gojo's bright faded away.

When you smiled red, blue was not his color anymore.

When your life was colorful, his was grey and devoid of any color.

Red and blue turned into purple. His heart was craved by yours, when you were together.

Purple danced in front of his eyes as his memories overflowed his mind. Blue eyes crying because of red.

Blue eyes seeing grey because now red is gone forever and blue is alone.

#sofi is writing — jjks #jjk gojo #gojo satoru jjk #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo angst #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru headcanons #gojo satoru jujutsu kaisen #gojo jjk #gojo satoru angst

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sweetkingdomstarlight-blog · 3 years

Text

watching you

Pairings - Lee Bodecker x Reader

Word Count - over 2.5k (loads of them)

Warnings - stalkerish Lee, arsehole ex, gun violence, eventual smut, breeding kink.

A/N - firstly if you are a minor then shoo, come back when you’re 18 please. Secondly thanks to my wife @buckyownsmylife for proofing this for me and as always hyping me up enough to post. This is for her 2k birthday challenge and if you aren’t already following her then what are you waiting for?

A/N 2 - @dreamslikeaheartbeat surprised me with this awesome mood board earlier and I love it. I encourage you all to go and have a look at her work she’s amazing and you won’t regret it.

Being one of the only detectives in this small town meant that most people respected Lee Bodecker, he would always get a table at the diner, always go to the front of the queue and locals knew to do what they were told when he asked.

That was until you arrived, moving here from another state you knew absolutely nobody and decided to open a coffee shop across from the station. The day before you opened you took a tray of coffees and freshly baked muffins to the station to say hi and let everyone know you were excited to get to know them. You had everyone under your spell with your first smile but Lee knew something was up, young girls like you don’t just move from big cities to small towns for the hell of it.

It took him a week but he had you, you were running away from your husband, he was a small time criminal but his wrap sheet was one of the longest Lee had seen in a long time. You were only married for six months before you showed up here and he wanted to know why, he was only protecting the town from future problems or at least that’s how he justified it to himself.

You weren’t due to open for another hour when you heard someone at your front door banging to be let in, you were covered in flour from making the cafes daily selection and didn’t really want anyone to see you like this but they were so persistent. Wiping your hands on the nearest cloth you peered out of the kitchen and were confused to see Detective Bodecker smiling through the window at you waving to be let in. You opened the door slightly and got a shock when he barged in locking the door behind him “hey sweetheart I’m glad we finally have time for a little talk” looking up at him slightly confused “I’m not open for another hour Detective can you come back then, I’m a little busy right now” turning your back on him and walking back to the kitchen.

Unsurprisingly he follows you standing a little too close and breathing down your neck “i said i wanted to talk” rolling your eyes you look up at him “and i said I’m busy” turning back to the bowl of blueberry muffin batter and adding more cinnamon, you’re about to mix when you see his thick finger dip into your bowl then into his mouth. He moans as he licks his finger clean and smirks as you visibly cringe at the sight “what the fuck! You can’t do that” you shout at him, furious inside as now you have to dump it all and start again. “Relax sweetheart you can make this my batch I’ll pay you for the loss” before dipping his finger again and pushing it into your mouth as you’re about to protest. You pull your head back and slap him across the face “get the fuck out of my cafe now, what the fuck is wrong with you?” You shout, watching as he wipes his finger across your apron and soothes his cheek “you’re feisty, i like it, we’re going to have some fun darling” and with that he turns and walks out leaving you stood in shock unable to understand what just happened.

A week goes by and he hasn’t been back so you put the little incident down to some sort of hazing and try to forget about it but you can’t, you see him all over town and he always seems to be watching you. You’re not sure what it is he thinks he’s going to catch you doing but he’s always there.

The next day you’re in the florists when you see him walk past and wink at you, enraged by his inability to leave you alone you pay for your bouquet and storm out looking for him. Marching down the street you can’t believe this is the first time in a week you haven’t seen his smug face watching you, you relax for a moment before you feel someone grabbing your arm and pulling you into the alleyway.

Your back hits the wall and you want to scream out but his hand is over your mouth before you can “you looking for me sweetheart?” He whispers in your ear, licking the outer shell and managing to dodge your knee as you attempt to introduce it to his balls. “You are trouble, I don’t like trouble in my town, I like an easy ride. I don’t want your shithead of an ex wandering into town and messing things up” your body stiffens at the mention of your ex and Lee noticing this chuckles “you think I don’t know who you are? Who he is?” You bite his hand to get him off you and suck in a deep breath “he doesn’t know where i am, he’s not going to show up here. Is that why you’ve been following me all across town you fucking creep?” Anger flashes across his face and he wraps his fingers around your throat “this is my town and I’ll follow who I like, do you understand?” You roll your eyes and nod your head knowing you aren’t getting out of this alleyway if you don’t “fine, follow me, see if I give a shit. I don’t do anything interesting anyway. If you’ve got nothing better to do than watch me all day so be it” he loosens his grip and takes a step back, admiring your bravery he doesn’t expect the punch to his gut as you pick up your things and walk away. Too winded to follow he watches you turn the corner and slumps down the wall to get his breath back.

The whole town loves your cafe and you feel settled as your regulars make their way in for their usual orders, enjoying the fancy coffee recipes you come up with everyday and clearing out your cakes by lunchtime. You hadn’t seen much of Lee since that day in the alley but you can always sense him nearby. His smell seems to have invaded your life in so many ways.

Closing down for the day you have your back to the door when you feel some hands wrap around your waist “why did you run away baby?”. Your blood runs cold, his voice makes your heart pound and his grip on you hurts probably leaving purple bruises on your sides, you try to pull at his thumbs to weaken his grip but he knows all of your moves now “baby come on didn’t you miss me?” Swinging your head back into his face he stumbles backwards giving you the chance to run for the back door, running through the kitchen you see Lee sitting on your counter eating some of your chocolate and looking smug “he’s here, he’s out there” pulling out his gun he stalks out to the seating area and sees him sat waiting.

“Well, well Ransom Drysdale what brings you out here to our little corner of the world?” Keeping his gun aimed at the man he keeps you behind him, protected, safe. Ransom sizes him up deciding what his next move will be when he stands moving towards them slowly “i don’t want any trouble. I just want my wife to come home with me, you can understand that surely?” Looking around Lee you scream “I’m not going anywhere with you! Now get the fuck out of my place” Ransom stops and stares at you, shaking his head “always so angry with me, come home and let me make you happy I’ll buy you anything you want you know that. Nothing is too much for my baby”. You grab the second gun off Lee’s belt and step out pointing it at Ransoms head “just leave me alone and go back home you don’t want me, you just don’t want people thinking you’re anything other than perfect” that's all it took he strode towards you unsheathing his blade screaming insults at you when you heard a loud bang and felt a warm splash on your face, looking at Lee he licks his lips “he can’t have what’s already mine and i won’t let anyone hurt you” he says walking towards you and catching you as you pass out in his arms.

You wake up in a hospital bed, your throat dry and your head throbbing. Looking around you’re shocked but not surprised to see Lee sitting in the chair next to your bed eating jelly beans and reading the paper “you’re awake” he says a little too loudly for your liking “Lee, what are you doing here. You took care of him I’m not a threat to your little town I’ll be gone before news travels round” he chuckles at you “oh you aren’t going anywhere sweetheart, we have unfinished business” throwing your head back you look up at the ceiling “what is it with men? Why do you all think you can control me?” He leans forward and licks your ear “you like me more than you realise, sweetheart. I’m patient though, I’ll wait” and with that he leaves, turning and winking at you before he exits.

It’s been a week since the incident, the police have cleared your cafe for opening again and quite a few of your regulars have arrived to help you with the cleanup, smiling at them all you unlock the door to let them in but scream when you see Lee sitting drinking a cappuccino at the counter “what the fucking fuck are you doing in here?” Walking up to him and turning him around on the stool “how did you even get in?” He looks you over checking to see if you’re ok “did you not realise this was my building sweetheart? I’ve got the master key I can come and go as I please” you groan loudly and turn to look at the damage, confused when everything seems normal you look back and see the biggest shit eating grin on his face “you're welcome sweetheart” kissing your head and walking out towards the station you watch him dumbfounded before making drinks for all the volunteers.

That was the start of his weird courtship, it never occurred to him that letting himself into the little apartment above your cafe and leaving flowers on your pillow was creepy, or that one time when he had your car towed because he thought he heard a weird noise one day when you came back from the market. It took him three months to ask you out and another two for you to agree but here you are now, wearing lingerie in his favourite colour excitedly waiting for him to come home. You sat on his sofa waiting to hear the jangle of his keys but they never seemed to arrive, you tried his phone but he didn’t answer either so you sat and waited. Next thing you know you’re being shaken awake by a sorry looking man who you haven’t decided is still your boyfriend, he looks you up and down blushing at the soft green lingerie you’re almost wearing “is this all for me sweetheart?” You scowl at him, angry that he’s almost three hours late and couldn’t send a quick text to tell you he’d be back when he could.

Running his hand down your face you bite the pad of his finger in warning “it was all yours hours ago, now I’m not so sure” sitting up and shifting away from him you try not to smile when he gets on his hands and knees and crawls to you for forgiveness. “I’m sorry there was a case, some kid we’ve been tracking for a while showed his face and I needed to go and see him”. You still won’t look at him so he kisses and nibbles up your leg the way he knows drives you wild his hands moving up your sides and pulling your bra down so he can rub and pinch your nipples relaxing once he hears a gentle moan from you. Kissing higher he licks around your belly button and nips at the flesh “you gonna finally let me fuck a kid into here baby? I can’t wait to see you all swollen with my son” grabbing him by the hair and pulling him up to your face “oh yeah and what if it's a girl?” You challenge him, going soft when he replies “even better, two of you to love for the rest of my life”. You pull him closer to you kissing him deeply, your tongue tickling the roof of his mouth making him jerk his hips forward before you pull back “you still have some making up to do” he smiles and pulls the tiny scrap of material covering your wet folds to one side before licking and nibbling at you like he’s a starving man. Your hands grip at his hair, his shirt, anything that will keep him exactly where he is, he knows exactly what you like making sure to spend as much of his time showing you as he can. He sucks on your clit, his warm mouth covering it before he flicks his tongue over it making you scream out his name, he could cum just from hearing you but tonight he’s going to give you all of him, it’s time.

He quickly strips as you come down from your high kissing your neck and jaw before picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom. You lay down watching him stare at you, you’ve never felt more loved than you do when he looks at you like this he always looks so grateful that you’re with him, he doesn't realise how much you love him. You hold your hand out and pull him down to you giggling when he almost falls, laying next to you he plays with your breasts “i can’t wait until these are full of milk for our baby” moving his hand down lower and rubbing your belly “until this is swollen and I have to care for you” his fingers move down lower, very slowly rubbing soft circles on your clit “fuck Lee, i need you” you whine, he leans down licking and nibbling on your nipple “you gonna let me do it? You gonna let me fuck a baby into you?”. You grind your hips up trying to get more friction “please, fuck please” licking your ear “please what sweetheart?”

Not able to take anymore you grab him and push him down on the bed sinking down on his length, moaning at the stretch before leaning forward and kissing him. He grabs your hips and bounces you up and down, groaning loud at how tight you are. He needs you to come quickly or he’s not going to make it. His finger rubs at your clit pushing you over the edge squeezing his cock tight he cums hard, decorating your walls with his seed. You collapse forward and kiss his face all over, taking your time to appreciate him. He goes to move away but you grip him with your thighs “don't move yet, we have to make sure it all stays inside me don’t we” you smirk at his shocked face before laying on top of him content, already thinking of baby names and picturing the nursery.

#lee bodecker #lee bodeckerxreader #sebastian stan #bucky

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wesimpforxiao · 3 years

Text

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 3.4

Two weeks later.

"Did Xiao ever say when he'd return?" You caught up to Aether at the front of the group. "I'm getting worried. And what about Mr. Zhongli?" The team had just entered Liyue Harbor to inspect three nameless treasure boxes that you'd found all over western Liyue.

"Nope. Not a clue. But we can stop by the funeral parlor to look for Zhongli if you want."

"Paimon thinks you worry too much. The Vigilant Yaksha can handle himself just fine."

"I-I know that!" You spoke a little too loud and a few pedestrians gave you the side eye. The tips of your ears burned red.

"I have some business to attend to regarding the winery. I'll meet you tomorrow morning." Diluc walked off without another word.

"He's not a people-person just like Xiao, don't you think?" Paimon nudged you suggestively.

"What're you saying, exactly?"

"It seems our emergency food forgot her place," Aether defended you despite his urge to tease your urgency over Xiao's return.

"Stop treating Paimon like that! I am not food!"

"She's not wrong though," Childe cozied up to you. "A little eager to see Xiao again, are we?"

"I already told you guys, it's not like that! I'm just antsy because he said he'd be back soon and it's been a few weeks now--"

"Sounds like you really like this Xiao person!" Bennett chirped. "I wonder what he's like?" He swung his arms at his side, completely carefree despite the soreness in his previously-broken arm. It had healed within a day because of his healing abilities.

"You guys are just teasing me because I'm the only girl on the team!" You pouted and crossed your arms.

"Oh come now, don't be like that." Childe put an arm around your shoulder. "What else did Xiao tell you before you left? How much he loves you and how much he'd miss you while you were away? If you want, I can tell you those things too, ojou-chan〰"

"Cut it out, Childe!" You snapped and pushed him away. That's when you noticed a few strangers were whispering and pointing at the Harbinger. "Hey--"

"Ah, don't concern yourself with them." Childe returned to a more serious nature and continued to walk behind Aether. "Let's just say I'm not as welcome in Liyue as the Traveler here."

"That's because he kicked your butt!" Paimon taunted.

"Do not forget that I've grown stronger in recent months. If you are so certain he could defeat me a second time, I'm more than happy to prove the two of you wrong."

"Why does it feel so tense all of a sudden?" Bennett whispered in your ear.

"They have a weird rivalry going."

"Ah."

"We're here--annnd it's closed," Aether's shoulders drooped once the group reached the antique shop. "'Open at 6p.m.' Great."

"That just means we have time to relax! Quick, Paimon wants to go eat some classic Liyue dishes!" She dragged Aether with her before he could protest.

"Uh...we'll meet here at six!" He called over his shoulder.

"I still don't understand how she could eat so much," Childe shrugged. "Well then, I'm off. I have some business to take care of at the bank. See you soon."

"Guess it's just you and me?" Bennett laughed nervously.

"Wanna eat lunch first?"

Your offer lit his eyes up. The two of you had practically become best friends during these past few weeks, and he found it a relief that you weren't phased by his bad luck even when it did backfire on you. To think he had found such a great friend and adventure team no less--was incredibly motivating.

After several hours of eating and checking out all the harbor had to offer, you and Bennett ended at the docks. The sun was nearly setting and cast an orange glow on its subjects. You dangled your feet over the edge and soon enough he did the same.

"I had so much fun today! Thank you for showing me around!" Bennett ate the dango you had bought for him.

"Mhm!" You didn't feign cheerfulness, but by now it was exaggerated. Bennett caught on.

"Hey, are you okay? You've been acting weird since this morning."

"I don't know. I just feel lonely without him."

"The Xiao guy? I get how that feels. I'm always lonely," he sympathized. "You can rant to me if you want. I'm a good listener."

"See, that's the thing. I'm not sure if it's safe for me to talk about it with anyone." There were brief moments in the night in which a gentle breeze would caress your skin, but they were briefer than the first and infrequent. Your heart ached and missed the comfort of knowing he was watching over you the longer he was gone.

Bennett quietly pondered your words while he swung his feet in the air. "If there's anything I know about thoughts and feelings, it's that they'll tear you apart the longer you keep them bottled up."

"Yeah...you're right." You let out a long sigh and lay your back against the cold wooden planks. "I want to get closer to him, but it feels like something bad will happen if I do."

"What do you mean?"

"He says we might be in danger, but he won't elaborate on it. I feel like unless that danger is eliminated, I won't have a chance to get to know him fully."

"I see." Bennett copied your position and reached toward the sky. "Well, I think--"

"There you are," Childe entered your field of vision. "We're all waiting for you. The antique shop is open now."

...........................................................

"--These markings are those of Liyue," Linlang of the antique shop continued to explain as you approached the rest of the group. "You can see inscribed here is the anecdote of Azhdaha. They say Azhdaha was a dragon spawned by a convergence of the spirits of Geo in Liyue, and that even Rex Lapis could not easily subdue it. Rex Lapis thus summoned three adepti to his aid, and together they created a cavernous realm. Rex Lapis then battled the creature, luring it into the cavern, before ordering the adepti to seal the entrance, trapping Azhdaha within.

"The patterns on the things you brought seem to describe the three adepti joining hands to create the cavern. This crane must be the adeptus Mountain Shaper, and this deer might be Moon Carver...But this last one...huh? It seems like this pattern has been intentionally ground away by someone to the point where I can't make anything out. Who was this third adeptus? Eh, no matter; this is beyond me. Regardless, it is a complete set. Would you like to sell them or keep them as keepsakes? I can make a generous offer."

"We'd like to sell them!" Paimon nearly yelled with excitement over the potential mora.

"Wait! May I see the third artifact?" The clerk held it out to you, and you examined the damaged box in your hands. Something about this box called to you, though you didn't know why you felt that way. You were mesmerized as you rubbed the ground-out etchings in the material with your thumb.

"Do you know something about these?" Childe suddenly became much more interested in the conversation and leaned toward you.

"I've never seen these before, but...I feel like this one is familiar."

"But there's nothing readable on it," Bennett remarked. "How can you think it's familiar if there aren't any distinguishing features?

"I...don't know..." She said these were depictions of three adepti, right? Moon Carver, Mountain Shaper...Could it have been a depiction of Cloud Retainer? But why would it be scratched out if that were the case? Maybe it's one of the yakshas? W-wait a second--

"Do you want to keep it?" Aether pulled your head out of the clouds and you lost your train of thought.

"No, that's okay." You placed the box on the counter, mind wondering once again as LinLang explained her offer to Aether. Hopefully you'd get the chance to look at the artifact set again. Maybe you could ask Xiao about it when he returns--wait. Your eyes locked onto the damaged box again.

Was it possible that he was the one depicted on the box?

The theory made sense...The Guardian Yaksha worked in the dark, and he wasn't really known in the mortal world. Festivals were thrown for the adepti, but no one mentioned or prayed to him. He could have scratched the box himself, or it could have been Rex Lapis's doing. Your hands curled into determined fists and you walked away from the group before anyone could notice.

Xiao! You silently called his name once you returned to the docks along the harbor. Xiao! I know you can hear me. No response; the wind was absent. Why is it that I'm running into more things relating to adepti ever since you departed? You dunk your hand into the ocean and traced a figure-eight in the water as you thought to yourself. We found some interesting boxes with three adepti etched into them. It's strange; one of them is scratched out, but I feel connected to it, almost like it's connected to you. Weird, huh? You shook your head at yourself. What a silly idea, to think that one of the mighty yakshas could hear you. I'll leave you alone now. I'm sure you're getting tired of listening to me ramble every day. Or maybe you can't hear me at all in the first place.

A hand suddenly landed on your shoulder.

"Xiao?" Your head snapped behind you in high hopes that the adeptus had returned.

"Ouch," Childe winced and grabbed his chest as if he got hurt. "It's just lil ol' me." He took the liberty to sit next to you.

"A-ha, you scared me there. Sorry."

"You really like him, huh?"

"I guess so. I don't really know what to do with myself since he left." You watched the moon rise over the horizon.

"Do you know where he was headed? I can go find him for you." You shook your head. "I'm surprised he didn't take you with him. The two of you were practically attached at the hip."

Hm? The hair rose on the nape of your neck. Something about his words was off.

"Childe, do you know something about why he left?" Your eyes left the moon and locked onto your questionable teammate.

"Whatever do you mean, ojou-chan?" He was good at feigning ignorance, but you didn't fall for it this time.

"Tartaglia."

"Now why would I be interested in the adepti? Why are you so suspicious of me all of a sudden?" His eyes narrowed dangerously. "If you're looking for a reason to fight me, all you have to do is ask and I'll say yes. I'd love to fight you and go all-out. It's been awhile and I could use the exercise."

You opened your mouth and shut it. You couldn't throw around accusations like they were Childe's Fatui money, after all. If your suspicions were unfounded, it would cause strain in the team. And he was true to his word on fighting; he could take you out in a single blow if he thought it was necessary. You thought carefully about this and decided to drop it.

#xiao genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #xiao one shot #xiao fanfiction #genshin x reader

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brywrites · 3 years

Text

Focus II

[Part I] If you’re looking for something to distract you from the looming anxiety of election results, here’s something else to focus on for a few minutes. ;) This was definitely longer than I thought it would be! CW for mentions of triggers/flashbacks, mild smut!

Summary: Reid faces unexpected challenges returning to the field after his reinstatement, but the Reader remains the one person who can help ease his mind when it all gets to be too much.

----------

For once, the world has chosen to be gentle with them. Following Scratch’s demise, the Bureau mandates that the BAU takes six weeks of leave. It comes as a relief to all of them after living in a constant state of anxiety for the last year. Rossi disappears on a vacation that includes visiting Ringo Starr, who he reminds everyone is “a close personal friend.” JJ stays at home with her boys, happy to be nothing but “mom” for a little while. Tara fits in research, Luke goes camping with Lisa and Roxy, and Garcia divides her time between MMORPGs, her grief group, and babysitting Hank Morgan.

Y/N spends a good amount of the time on Emily’s couch, watching old seasons The Bachelorette and whatever 2000s rom-coms they can find. But when she’s not at her best friend’s apartment and she isn’t at home attempting complicated recipes in her kitchen, she’s with him.

Spencer is spending a large portion of his break attending mandatory therapy sessions and redoing fitness courses in Hogan’s Alley in order to meet his reinstatement requirements. But whenever he gets the chance, he’s by her side. They get coffee and wander through museums and parks, they go for long drives and make out on his couch. They talk about everything and nothing and all at once it’s wonderful. There is a strange giddy feeling that takes her over every time his hand finds her in a crowded place or he goes out of his way to do something nice for her or he can’t help but smile while kissing her. He’s so gentle with her, leaving sweet notes around her apartment and burying his face in the crook of her neck as he holds her close.

There are no cases. There are no monsters. There are no press conferences. There are only warm days and wine and the sound of Spencer’s laugh echoing in her living room.

With two weeks to go, she realizes the world might not be quite so gentle. She swings by the BAU to help Matt move case files out of her office, and as she’s on her way out she spots Spencer at the end of the corridor, rubbing at his eyes the way she’s only seen him do the night Scratch stole Emily.

He doesn’t even seem to register her approach until she says his name. And when he turns to her, he’s miles away. “What is it?” she asks. “Spencer, what’s wrong?”

“The scenario I was running in the Alley… there were multiple unsubs in the laundromat and it was just – it was too much like – it was…” He presses his palm into his eye.

Too much like Luis. He’s told her that story already. “What do you need?” she asks. She reaches out to grab his hand, lacing her fingers through hers.

She feels him tense for just a second before, squeezing her hand tighter, he starts down the hall with her. The door to Garcia’s office is open and he pulls her inside, shutting it behind him. Before she can ask what he’s doing, her back is against the door and his mouth is on hers.

He kisses her fiercely and when he slips his tongue past her lips, she wraps a hand around the back of his neck to pull him closer to her. He’s still holding her hand, his grip tight as he rolls his hips against her and though it’s caught her completely off-guard, the feeling of his body against her is exquisite.

She winds her fingers in his curly hair, eliciting a moan from him that rumbles through his chest. His free hand slips down the curve of her back until he can cup her ass. He catches her bottom lip between his teeth. Every action is hungry, desperate. Her skin feels hot everywhere he touches her.

He stops suddenly and wraps her in a hug. His sweater is soft against her cheek and he smells like ivory soap and coffee and his embrace is so secure. This is a different kind of passion – less frantic, but just as strong, as he rests his head on her shoulder and attempts to steady his breathing.

“It still works,” he sighs.

“Hmm?”

Spencer releases her from his arms. “When it gets bad, and my mind goes… there, your touch helps keep me here. Everything else just disappears. I can’t explain it, but it still works.”

“So… kissing me is a like a grounding technique?” she asks, trying to surprise a giggle.

He chuckles in spite of himself, and the distance in his eyes is gone. He is himself once more. “Something like that, yeah. It’s pretty amazing actually. Even just holding your hand helps. But um, kissing you is…” He clears his throat. “A little more effective, it seems.”

“Well,” she says, “I’m certainly happy to be of assistance.” She gives him a quick peck.

“What am I supposed to do in the field?” he asks. “I’m still having flashbacks and even a basic training exercise triggered a trauma response today.”

“Love, you’re a genius. You know that PTSS is like an injury. And that means it’s gonna take time to heal. But you’ll find a way to cope and stay grounded while you heal.” She caresses his cheek, the stubble he’s continued to grow rough against her hand when he leans into her touch. “Even if that means sneaking off to a back room with me,” she teases.

Their time of rest is coming to a close, the hours ticking by until the day they’ll return to work and Spencer will face his reinstatement evaluation. She savors the quiet while she can, the ability to go to bed early and sleep in, the simple joy of waking up in her own bed, or sometimes in his. She can tell he’s anxious though – scared that he’ll be denied reinstatement and scared that the trauma will continue to hang heavy over him.

When it gets bad and his mind steals him somewhere far away, he reaches for her and she always welcomes him. She’s grateful for any reason to be close to him, and if it helps to keep him here in the moment, that’s even better. She can always tell when he needs her to clear his mind by the way he kisses her. When he’s not himself, he pins her against the wall, gropes at her ass, holds her face still as he bites her lip. He’s impulsive and needy. But when his firm grasp fades to soft caresses, when he places kisses on her cheek, her forehead, when it becomes a sweeter sort of passion, she knows he’s come back to her.

So when Emily announces his reinstatement to the team and she kisses him quickly and his hand squeezes hers just a little tighter than she expects, she knows there’s something bothering him. They grab their go-bags from the bullpen and she asks him about it, but he just kisses her forehead and promises that they’ll talk later.

Emily goes over the case on the plane, women in caregiving roles stuffed into suitcases. The team goes over victimology and she tries to take notes, already thinking of questions to ask the families and directions to take with local media. It’s easy to get lost in the work when it demands her full attention.

Upon landing, there is already a couple waiting for her in the interview room. Laura Westin is their latest victim, and her parents are devastated. They paint a picture for her with their words of their daughter – a bright, beautiful, generous woman who was mourning the death of her own friend. The grief has traveled in waves.

“Who would do this to her?” Mrs. Westin sobs. Her husband places a hand on her shoulder. “She’s such a good girl, she is – she was… Oh, god!”

“She was,” Y/N repeats. “And she is always going to be your daughter. And the people who love her will remember all of the good she did.” They cry and she listens and she assures them that they’re doing everything right and while she knows not to make promises she can’t keep, she does promise that they’ll do their best.

When they’ve shared everything they know and settled back into a state of relative calm, she walks the Westins to the door of the station and returns to conference room, where the team is working on the profile.

“Welcome back,” Rossi says. She sits down next Spencer. It’s clear to her that he’s lost in his own thoughts. Out of the corner of her eye she sees his fingers form a fist and he begins to bounce his leg under the table. Their chairs are close together already, making it incredibly difficult for anyone else to notice that she reaches across beneath the table to rest her hand on his thigh. The moment she does, he stills. He inhales sharply and clenches his fist a little bit tighter for just a moment – but then relaxes. She strokes steady circles with her thumb while she tells the team about Laura Westin.

They team files out of the room for a quick break and she stays behind with Reid. He’s relaxed enough to give her a smile. “How was interviewing the family?” he asks, lacing his fingers through her own.

She sighs. “It never gets any easier. But I know it’s important for them to get a chance to talk to someone about her. Someone who won’t tell them it all happened for a reason and she’s in a better place now.”

“You’re so good at that,” he says. “You always make the people around you feel better.”

“What about you? What’s going on in your head?”

He stares down at his coffee cup. “There was a… condition for my reinstatement. For every one hundred days I’m in the field, I have to take thirty days off.”

“Like a sabbatical? Does Emily know?”

“Yeah. She thinks it’s a good idea.” He aimlessly strokes patterns on the back of her hand.

“I know I’m not an expert, but I think she might be right,” she says. “Spencer, what you went through – you’re going to struggle. And you’re going to need to rest.”

“I know,” he says. “But Y/N, I’m worried that–”

“Y/L/N!” Alvez’s entrance startles them both. “There’s a reporter for the Daily News out here. Sorry,” he adds, noticing Spencer’s hand still holding hers. “He’s, uh, trying to call this guy ‘The Baggage Claim Killer.’”

“Of course he is,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “Thanks, Luke. I’ll go talk him down. And we’ll talk later, okay?” she tells Spencer. Though the man in the lobby is annoying, wrangling a reporter is far easier than talking to a grieving family. It doesn’t hurt her heart to lay into someone trying to profit from another person’s pain, and she’s always been good at using her kindness to guilt trip them.

That evening at the hotel, there’s a knock at her door. She knows who it is even before answering it and his face is a welcome sight.

“I missed you today,” Spencer says, closing the door behind him.

“I missed you, too. I like you much better than those reporters,” she says. She takes a seat on her bed, patting the spot beside her. “But we didn’t get to finish talking earlier. What’s got you worried?”

Spencer plops onto the mattress, heaving a sigh. “I’m worried that maybe I’m not ready to be back in the field.”

“Do you not want to be?”

“I do! I do, I just…” He runs his hands through his hair. “I wanted to kill Scratch. You know that. And I would have if Emily hadn’t stopped me. Just like I would have killed Cat and just like I almost killed the guys at Milburn…” His hands are shaking so she reaches out to hold them. “What if this is who I am now? What if the next time I’m face to face with an unsub I just…”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know what I did in there… what I had to do…”

He screws his eyes shut and she knows she’s losing him. She kisses his cheek, because she wants him here and she wants to be close to him and she hasn’t been able to hold him all day. It’s a mutually beneficial situation, she figures, when his mouth finds hers, and he kisses her so deep she thinks she might drown in the feeling. His hands slip under the hem of her sweater and his fingers are so warm against her skin. She tangles her hands in his deliciously unruly hair and tugs, needing him closer, wanting to keep him grounded.

“You’re here,” she murmurs. “You’re right here.” His hand is on her breast and his lips are on her neck and she tries so hard not to moan. The last thing she needs is for a team member to walk past her room and overhear them. He sucks hard enough at the skin of her collarbone that she knows it’ll leave a mark. She captures his mouth once more, and he pulls her down onto the bed so she’s lying on top of him. When she’s kissing him, she can forget too. She can erase, for a brief moment, the fear that she’ll let those parents down. That she’ll say the wrong thing or overlook a rogue reporter. She can stop worrying that she’s not doing enough to get justice for those women for just a minute, because when he holds her she doesn’t have to be a perfect liaison or have all the right words. All she has to be is in this moment with the man that she loves. It’s all he needs from her and he is everything she needs right now.

She swipes her tongue over his lower lip before pressing kisses down his jaw. Her hands work away at the buttons of his shirt as she goes, carving a path with her lips down his chest, the soft skin of his belly. He bites back a groan but she can feel how tense he is still, his breathing shallow. It occurs to her that being back in the field might be making things worse than usual. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to take things a step further. He needs her, and god does she want him.

She shrugs out of her sweater before flicking open his belt buckle and undoing the zipper of his pants, pulling them down his legs. His cock is already straining against the fabric of his boxers, and when she drags a finger over the length of him he presses his hips into her hands. They haven’t gone this far before. Her heart beats out a staccato rhythm of anticipation as she reaches for the waistband of boxers.

But this his hand grabs hers, his grip soft but firm.

“Y/N.” He’s not looking past her anymore. Spencer’s hazel eyes are completely focused on her, shining in the dim hotel lamplight. “I don’t want my first time with you to be like this.”

“I don’t mind,” she assures him.

“But I do,” he says. He sits up on the bed, holding her in his lap. He brushes her hair back from her face, letting his touch trail down the side her face to caress her cheek. “I want this, but I – I don’t want you to think for a second that I’m using you. I want to do it right. You’re not just another pretty girl or a way for me to clear my mind or a distraction. You’re my favorite person. You’re the one I love. And Y/N, I want to love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

“You do,” she says. How can he possibly think he doesn’t when he sends her pictures of things he finds that will make or smile or reads her favorite books just to memorize the words she loves or holds her as though nothing so precious has ever been within his grasp before?

“I need to prove it to myself though.” And though she doesn’t quite understand, she relents. But when she asks if he wants to be alone, he says, “Can I just stay here? With you?”

“Of course.” She trades her slacks for a pair of pajama shorts and asks, “So you do think I’m a pretty girl though?”

He laughs. “The prettiest. But you know that already.” She curls up under the covers with him and watches him fall asleep with his arms around her. His breathing steadies and in sleep he looks more peaceful than he has his days. His body relaxes. A small smile graces his face. Like this, she can almost pretend that Mexico never happened and nothing ever hurt him. She loves him in all ways and all parts, even when he’s hurting, but she wishes she could take that pain away from him.

By the time she arrives at the unsub’s house with Rossi, Luke is leading William Lynch away in handcuffs and Spencer is walking the survivor to the meet the medics. Once she’s in the ambulance, Y/N meets him on the sidewalk.

“I didn’t hurt him,” he says.

“I knew you wouldn’t.” He pulls her into a hug, and to her surprise, there is no tension in his touch. He’s not far away. He doesn’t need her to keep him in this moment. He just wants to hold her. She rests her head against his chest, relishing that simple fact.

That week, she can see a lightness in his step at work. His smile comes easier and stays a little longer. He seems to be finding his footing in the office and with the team once again, and he’s even excited about the prospect of the seminars he’ll be teaching. The weekend is welcomed with a Friday night dinner at Rossi’s, after which Spencer drives the both of them back to his apartment. When she steps inside, she finds the living room lit up with string lights and her favorite flowers sitting on the kitchen table.

“What’s all this?” she asks.

“For you, Pretty Girl,” he says. “I told you I wanted to do this right. Flowers have been a symbol of romantic love for centuries, particularly when given as a gift, so that was obvious. And dimmed lights are typically used as a way to set a romantic mood, although also have a skill for lighting up the life of everyone you meet, so there’s that too. Maybe that doesn’t make much sense,” he says, laughing at himself. “But I wanted to make it clear that I was thinking of you and I wanted to make tonight special. Not that anything has to happen tonight, of course, but if you still wanted to I just thought that maybe, well–”

“It’s perfect,” she assures him. “More than perfect. I love it. I love you. And this is exactly what I want.” She stands on her toes to kiss him before he can start rambling once more. Spencer leads her to the bedroom and unlike the rush of movement and need in Florida, he knows exactly he wants. Every kiss is languid and longing, every touch so precise and electric. He helps her out of her dress and places kisses between the valley of her breasts, the curves of her hips. He lets her guide him to where she wants him most and responds to every cue she gives him. Every inch of her body is given careful attention. As if he needs nothing from her at all but to love her.

It’s so much more than sex. As much as she hates the term making love she doesn’t know what else to call it. Because in every gesture, every kiss, he tells her without words that he loves her. And with every touch she tries to tell him the same. He devotes himself to ensuring she comes first, and makes good on that promise with ease, but when he finally reaches his release the sound of him crying her name is the holiest benediction she’s ever heard.

It takes him several minutes after to regain the ability to form words, during which she lies there in contended bliss, stroking his hair. “I love you,” is the first thing he says. “I love you, Pretty Girl.”

She smiles to herself, delighted to be not just a pretty girl who steals his train of thought, but his pretty girl. The one who gets to stay by his side and take his breath away and push the nightmares back. “I love you, too.”

“I’m so glad you kissed me that day.”

“I’m glad Emily gave me such an outrageous idea,” she giggles.

“Thank you for being patient with me all this time. I know I say that you help me forget, but it’s more than that. You’re the one who helps me remember who I am and what matters. But I love you for so many more reasons than that. I’ve asked a lot of you lately and I want to make sure I make you feel as loved as you make me feel.”

“Spencer, you asked me to kiss you. That’s hardly a burden. And I like listening to you. I like being with you – because you make me feel so loved, all the time.” She snuggles closer to him. “I like you like this, when you’re sweet and gentle and you. But it’s, um, it’s not a bad thing when you lose control a little bit. It’s sort of hot – to feel like you just can’t help yourself.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Well, I will absolutely need to remember that. You know, it scares me sometimes, how much I want you. How much I love you. But I’d much rather be scared by that than by the person I am without you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says. Because they’re both better when they’re together.

He makes her brave. She gives him strength. They change each other for the better, and as the days pass, the world feels a little lighter again. The sabbatical proves to be a good idea. With rest, with time, with therapy, she watches him heal. He doesn’t need to run off to kiss her hard against a wall to keep himself grounded (though when she’s in a certain mood, he’s more than happy to). He can focus in the field without her by his side. But when he’s having a hard time, his hand will still find hers. He’ll stand a little closer to her, and look at her, letting the rest of the world fade away, and feel better, every time. And there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

#fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #imagine #brywrites #focus

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dulce-pjm · 3 years

Text

under the table

word count: 3.8k

genre: fluff

summary: you’re doing great! 100% amazing. a-okay! alright, no you’re not. but what does everyone say is the perfect cure for a heart that never had the chance to be broken? game night, of course! but knowing you, there will always be complications.

You’re at peace.

When things are like this, the universe is in harmony. You’re tucked away from the rest of the world, cuddled up under a blanket next to the thing most important to you, a relaxed smile across your face. You think you could spend the rest of your life here, content and happy. Safe.

But you’ve never been particularly lucky.

“The fuck is a board game club?”

“It’s fun, I promise!” Mina looks you up and down as she stands in the doorway of your bedroom. You know how you look, sprawled on your soft comforter in sweats and a grease-stained t-shirt. Your laptop sits beside you, a trashy drama playing in the background, while your hands are occupied with your phone and a large bowl of popcorn.

“But I’m having fun now.” You gesture to your well-planned setup, grimacing when Mina turns the lights on. “Dude. Warning, please.” She sighs, stepping into the room with a stern look on her face. You can already feel your stubborn resolve slipping.

Mina shuts your laptop and moves it aside, plopping onto the bed next to you. She takes your non-butter-coated hand in hers.

“Y/N, I love you. But it’s Friday night. We haven’t gone out in a month. A month!” You glare, offended she’d bring up the subject.

“Because you know what happened last time!” Mina opens her mouth to argue, but shuts it quickly. This discussion always goes the same direction anyway.

“This won’t be like last time,” she reassures, taking the popcorn bowl from you, much to your dismay. “I promise. You like games! It’ll be fun and tonight we’re betting, so if you win you might even have some cash to take home.”

“But I’m so happy here.” You cuddle your pillow childishly, puffing out your bottom lip. Mina is not amused. She sighs, massaging her temples.

“I didn’t want to do this,” she begins. “But you owe me, remember?” You cock your head, no memory coming to mind. She sighs in exasperation. “You dragged me to that stupid dance class last semester! By the end I thought I was gonna puke!” You scoff.

“Oh, puh-lease, you were practically drooling over the instructor. He was so hot I forgot about the pain. Too bad he has a girlfriend now. I stalked him on Instagram.” Mina laughs, a light tinkling sound compared to your usual guffawing, abrasive and obnoxious.

“So… you’ll come?” You take a moment to think, despite already knowing your answer. You were too easy to guilt-trip, you knew. Too trusting, too. But Mina was right, you did owe her. You sigh.

“Fine. I’ll come.” Mina’s entire face lights up as she cheers and hurries to her feet. Your joints creak as you heave your limbs off of the bed while Mina begins babbling instructions your way.

You were rather talented at board games. And silly banter. You might even have a chance at walking away with the money. This will be fun, you assure yourself.

“...So, yeah. Just bring ten bucks. And maybe change first.” Her eyes take one last glance at your outfit in light disgust. “Be ready in half an hour?”

“Mhmm,” you groan, stumbling to your closet. You sniff one of your old sweaters and when no ungodly stench meets you, you shrug it on in place of your tee. Mina thanks you before trotting out of the room, taking away your snack with her.

This will be fun, this will be fun.

Or, at least it better be. You make a mental note that, if this goes south, you aren’t leaving this apartment for the next six months.

After sprucing up your appearance and coating yourself with cheap perfume, you approach the supposed ‘board game club meeting’ (how the hell did that get approved, anyway?) with a newfound sense of confidence. Your smile is beaming, your shoulders are back and unbothered, your skin glowing. Wait, doesn’t that phrase mean you’re pregnant? You can’t remember. Not that pregnancy is even a remote possibility for you anyway. What with you never leaving the apartment and all.

You trail after Mina as she weaves through the library halls, before slowing in front of a corner study room. You’re astounded she made it here so easily, you had no idea this was even here. To your knowledge, this wing of the library was reserved for storage and staff.

Just as you’re about to follow her through the door, she spins to face you.

“You know, I’ve been thinking and you know if you really don’t want to go-”

“Oh my god, we’re here already! Let’s just go in!” You smile at her teasingly while she blushes. Despite how it might look to outsiders, you and Mina care about each other deeply. You appreciate how considerate she is of you.

“Alrighty then!” She turns back around and throws open the door, drawing the greetings of everyone else in the room. Your eyes land on Mark, Mina’s boyfriend, who’s already shot to his feet and pulled Mina in for a kiss.

You barely have time to scan the rest of the crowd before Mark’s wrapped you up in a hug, ruffling your hair. He’d always been friendly, definitely a little much for you. But his affectionate ways are perfect for Mina.

“Hey! Didn’t expect to see you here.” He finally parts from you, allowing you room to breathe. You shrug sheepishly.

“Well, here I am.” Your hands fidget nervously at the belt loops of your jeans. “So expect to lose.” Mark laughs, wrapping an arm around Mina. You suppress the part of you that’s immensely jealous of their easy-going relationship. You’ve never been able to achieve quite the same thing. Your relationships rarely lasted longer than a few months, at best.

“I believe it. You always outplay me in Monopoly.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder. “But Yoongi might give you a run for your money.”

Your blood runs cold. Chills travel across your skin. A fire fueled by anger and embarrassment that had almost sputtered out over the past month is suddenly reignited, a blazing furnace beneath your face and chest.

“What?” Mina’s smile becomes strained while you stand there, face void of emotion despite the thunderstorm raging inside. Her voice lowers to a harsh whisper. “I thought you said he wasn’t coming!” Mark, oblivious to the brewing conflict, smiles happily.

“Yeah, but his work thing got canceled, so I told him there was still plenty of room.” Pride beams off of his face. At any other time, Mina would congratulate him for his efforts to be inclusive and encouraging to their mutual friend. But right now, she was starting to be as panicked as you were pissed.

Your mind is flooded with memories of fun conversation, casual flirting, and, ultimately, anxious nights spent staring at your phone screen, waiting for a very specific notification to appear. But it never did. You’re starting to see red.

“God, Mark, I told you about this!” Mina turns to you, eyes frantic. “You know, if you just want to go back home, that’s okay. I’ll go with you, we can watch dramas and eat pizza and-”

“It’s fine,” you spit through clenched teeth. You force your fists to relax, allow a gentle smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes to settle across your lips.

“A- Are you sure?” Mina touches your arm with concern, forcing you to tear your gaze away from a certain someone across the room. You shrug nonchalantly, forcing your smile to go wider.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Y/N, you seriously don’t-”

“It’s fine, Mina.” She immediately clamps her mouth shut, knowing your will is set in stone by the harsh tone of your voice. She nods vigorously and steps back into the arms of a very confused Mark.

“Okay, okay.” She puts up her hands defensively before smiling and facing the rest of the group. “Who’s ready to get started?” She’s met with cheers and smiles as Mark settles into a seat beside her and starts dealing cards, leaving one empty chair, across from Yoongi.

You slide into it, meeting his intense gaze as he looks up from his phone. Not that it surprises you, but he appears exactly the same. He’s fucking gorgeous. His features are soft, yet when he meets your eyes with that piercing gaze and unreadable expression, he becomes sharp and intimidating. His greyish-brown locks just barely sit above his dark, umber eyes, effortlessly tousled. Even his taste is good, his outfit composed of a leather jacket and vintage band t-shirt, topped with a single hoop earring.

God, he is so perfect. Was so perfect, until he’d ignited your unending anger.

“Hey,” you mutter, words coming off much more bitter than intended. Whatever. It’s how you feel, anyways.

“Hey,” he replies. “Been a while.” His eyes never leave yours.

“Sure has.” Your nostrils flare against your will. “You doing alright? Gone on any more blind dates?” Yoongi’s lips twist into a scowl.

“Can’t say I have. You were the one and only.” The staredown between you two could start wars. The negative energy you’re generating sends a chill down an unsuspecting Mark’s spine.

Your brooding is interrupted when a shiny, white sticker is passed in front of you.

“It’s a name tag!” Mina explains, looking between you two anxiously. “You can decorate it. It’s fun.” You internally roll your eyes at Mina’s not-so-sly attempt to break up your silent argument.

You grab a stray pen to scribble your name, but just as the ink begins to meet the sticker, fingers tighten around your wrist. With his free hand, Yoongi takes the sticker from you, bringing it to his side of the table.

“Let me do it. Your handwriting is shit.” You grimace. He isn’t wrong. You work to get your mind moving, you’re already behind in the insult-slinging. After a brief moment, Yoongi releases your wrist and snatches the pen from your fingertips, dipping his head to start writing.

“So are your dialing abilities.” Yoongi pauses, his eyes lifting, a poorly built facade of confusion masking what you’re sure is smug pride. The little shit.

“What?” he asks curiously, pen lowering.

“You heard me.” You cross your arms and lean back in your seat, as if daring him to challenge you. This asshole had the nerve to pretend he enjoyed your company despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, treat you to a nice date, not call you ever again, NOT EVER CALL YOU AGAIN, and then pretend he didn’t know what you were talking about? God, you’d really dodged a bullet there. Or, you would have. If Yoongi had picked up the damn phone and taken a shot in the first place.

After a few seconds, a smirk plays on his lips and he shakes his head, returning to the sticker.

“I see you and Yoongi are acquainted!” Mark comments, throwing an arm over your shoulder while blissfully unaware of the situation. Oh, to be pretty and ignorant. “He’s a monster at Risk, let me tell you. He could probably take over the world if he really wanted to. Most of the time, he’s the lucky guy walking away with the payout.” Yoongi shrugs, eyes still focused on the project before him.

“Or you guys just suck.” Mark laughs, the boisterous sound rattling from his chest.

“Either way, he’s the guy to beat.” You nod in understanding as a plan hatches in your mind. You rub your hands together, not unlike a cartoon villain. Your fixed smile becomes slightly crazed and Cheshire cat-like.

Interesting. Very interesting. So, if you were to, perhaps, theoretically, make some private bets and win this game night, Yoongi would be out a shit ton of money? Now that sounded like fun, Mina be damned. Screw closure and moving on, revenge is much more gratifying.

When Yoongi finishes your nametag, you slap it on your sweater without so much as a glance, oblivious to the way his face falls.

If it took every fiber of your being, you were going to beat Yoongi’s ass, steal his money, and never ever see him again.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Fuck!

How was it possible for somebody to be good at Candyland?! The game’s pure goddamn luck. But here Yoongi was, having claimed victory for three out of the six games played so far (you claiming the other three) and being well on his way to winning the seventh and final game: Uno.

You, Yoongi, and Mina are down to three cards each, while Mark and the other participants are too caught up in rambunctious conversation to care that they’re losing terribly.

Mistakes have been made. You had egged Yoongi on into raising the bets between you two from ten to fifty dollars. And now you were fearing you’d lose. But your will was still strong, refusing to give up so easily. And where there was a will, there were Draw Four cards.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?” Yoongi groans, reaching to draw from the pile. But at the last second, his fingers flicker back to his hand, slapping his own Draw Four card onto the table. You sigh, banging your head against the table without an ounce of embarrassment or true anger. That time had long passed. Now you were just exasperated.

Mina cries out in protest, but having nothing to counter with, she begrudgingly draws eight, eliminating her from the close race between you and Yoongi, having two cards each. Yoongi smiles apologetically, making you laugh quietly to yourself.

When he wasn’t being an ass, Yoongi still made pleasant company. He was nice and sarcastic and introspective, never failing to add something new to the conversation. Despite your initial resolve, you’d found yourself opening up to him once again, obnoxiously cracking your own jokes and telling wild stories from your past experiences. Whenever Yoongi smiled or laughed at you, your heart soared. If only he had called you back, things could be different.

But they weren’t. This is a war now. A war you intend to win.

“What are you doing?” The question startles you from the goofy selfie you’re taking as you wait for the play to make its way around the table. You set down your phone, ignoring the way that, in the picture, your eyes are straight ahead, meeting Yoongi’s, rather than directed at the camera.

“Texting my nephew.” Yoongi cocks his head, brows furrowing. “He’s five and has a tablet for some godforsaken reason. We just send each other pictures of ourselves making stupid faces back and forth. It’s silly.” You don’t know why you’re suddenly sheepish, heat rising to your face. It’s probably the bad air conditioning in this place. Yoongi’s confused expression melts into a soft smile, making the furnace beneath your cheeks blaze hotter.

“Cute,” he murmurs.

“What?” He shrugs, taking a sip at his soda. Your eyes narrow. What kind of game is he playing? Does he think flirting with you will distract you from the mission at hand? Because if so, he’s an absolute idiot.

“You’re an idiot!” you’re yelling just a few minutes later. Yoongi’s practically cackling from across the table, clutching his middle with one hand, the other holding just one card. You still had two, but no matter. It’s pretty unlikely he’ll be able to play his hand anyway. “The cookie is the backbone of the entire Oreo! Without it, the whole experience is ruined! Don’t disregard it so easily.” Yoongi only snickers more, his gums peeking out from behind his massive smile. He’s enjoying the way you get riled up so easily, how quickly he can get under your skin with the most meaningless of words.

“It doesn’t even taste good, Y/N. The least they could do is make it taste like sugar, since that’s practically all an Oreo is.” You roll your eyes.

“That ruins the whole balance. The only thing you could possibly add to an Oreo to make it better is peanut butter.”

“Peanut butter?” Yoongi leans forward in interest and slight disgust. You nod assuredly, finding yourself leaning forward as well.

“Trust me, it’ll change your life.” Yoongi looks at you earnestly.

“I’m pretty sure it’s you that’s the life-changer.” Your eyebrows pop upward, jaw momentarily dipping open before you snap it shut. No. No. You’re not falling for this again. You scoff and fall back into the incredibly uncomfortable chair, which only makes Yoongi smile proudly.

“Y/N, it’s your turn.” Mark nudges you and you barely acknowledge him, slapping your blue four onto the pile easily.

Yoongi looks at you oddly, lolling his head to the side.

“What?” you snap, giving him your best glare.

“You’re done with your turn?” he asks, expression turning slightly concerned. God, he was such a fucking tease.

“Yes I’m done, you dipshit. Play your turn.” You glance at your phone screen, seeing several notifications from your nephew and a scolding text from your sister for encouraging his behavior.

Yoongi sighs, drawing his card when he can’t play. When you glance up, there’s a smirk on his face once again.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Yoongi’s smirk deepens.

“You didn’t say ‘Uno.’” You stare at Yoongi. He starts to snicker again.

“Fuck!” you shout, ignoring Mina’s many comments about ‘language!’ and ‘non-competitive dialogue!’ Yoongi laughs in your face, not even bothering to cover his mouth and try to spare you. You’re about to go ballistic, your fists clenched as Yoongi does the favor of drawing four for you, sliding them in front of you. God, you hate him.

In the end, neither of you wins. Some freshman with glasses you didn’t know took the victory, teasing his apparent girlfriend for losing. Who even let freshmen in here, anyway? The participants decide that the winnings will be divided between you and Yoongi, since you both won three games, and the mini-bet between the two of you becomes null, with neither of you able to fully stake your claim.

But you’re the one who’s really been defeated. You couldn’t even succeed in getting a second date with this guy, what made you think you could beat him in board games?

You give Yoongi a small, meek nod before standing to go. Mina left with Mark already after double and triple-checking that you were okay to walk home alone. You make for the door, open the handle as unexpected tears threaten to prick at your eyes.

You’re so pathetic. You’d let a fucking blind date get you so upset you’d barely left your apartment in the past month except to go to class. Could you really be faulted? You hadn’t had so much fun with someone in your entire life. You could feel the connection, the spark, between the two of you. You were certain this was the one that would last. So you took the leap, gave him your number, proposed a second date. But he never called you. Not once.

You’re unlikable. Unlovable. You don’t deserve to win game night, let alone to win at life or relationships or-

“Y/N, wait up.” Yoongi’s found his way next to you as you trudge out of the library, staring straight ahead.

Great.

“What is it, Yoongi?” You shoot him a dark look, only to find his ears tinged pink and his hand awkwardly scratching his scalp.

“Well, uh, I was thinking.” The sentence ends, thought hanging unfinished in the air.

“You were… thinking?” Yoongi jolts, like he’d forgotten you were here. His eyes never meet yours, contrary to his crude confidence from before.

“Yeah! And, um-” He sighs, taking a deep inhale through his nose. “I think we should use the money we won and go on a second date.”

What.

“What?” You’re openly gaping at him now. “Why?!”

“Because I really enjoyed our first date and I’d like another one.” You’re running out of air, sputtering on your breath.

“But- But you didn’t even call me! I asked you out and now you suddenly change your mind?” After an excruciating moment, Yoongi’s eyes meet yours, panicked rather than unreadable. The image is unsettling and unfamiliar. You’re starting to feel dizzy.

“Because you gave me a fake number!” You gawk at him in confusion. “Or that’s what I thought, until you were talking earlier and I put it all together.” He grins, seemingly finding his confidence again. “Your shitty handwriting made me misread your number. I almost thought it was on purpose until now, that you just wanted to get rid of me. But it was all a misunderstanding.”

The weight of his words settles on your shoulders, making your head spin. All a misunderstanding? All those stupid tears and endless nights over… a misunderstanding? You could laugh. You do, actually. The sound makes Yoongi jump as the two of you step outside, the night oddly warm despite the time nearly reaching midnight. A stupid, dopey grin spreads across your face.

Yoongi doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t think you’re stupid or unlikable. You’d done everything right, well, almost everything right. It’s humorous, really.

“So, uh… What do ya say? Tomorrow? Seven?” You smirk.

“Bold of you to assume I’m free.” Yoongi’s grinning too, enjoying the casual banter significantly more than the way his face grew flushed and he couldn’t seem to spit out what he wanted to say.

“Well, then cancel your plans.” His eyes flash wildly and you giggle childishly, taking delight in his antics. You nod, your cheeks beginning to ache.

“Tomorrow at seven.” Yoongi grins as you prepare to go your separate ways.

“Tomorrow at seven.” You spin and begin walking the other way, but not before Yoongi can call after you again.

“What?” You laugh, yelling at him from down the sidewalk, the streetlamps barely illuminating his figure.

“Check your nametag! And text me when you’re home so I know you’re safe!” You laugh again.

“I don’t even have your number, dipshit!” Yoongi sighs loudly, the sound echoing down the empty street.

“Just check the fucking nametag!”

“Fine, fine!” You giggle as you peel the sticker off your shirt. Your giggle intensifies when you see its contents.

Along with your name, Yoongi decided to draw a small picture that you could only assume was you, composed of an angry face, frazzled hair, and devil horns. And in the bottom right corner is a string of digits. You’re grinning from ear to ear as you stare at the piece of paper. You tell yourself to find a safe place to keep it when you get home.

“Goodnight, Y/N!” he shouts, figure fading farther in the distance.

“Goodnight!”

You practically skip home, your body singing with adrenaline and joy.

You muse that your world might never be in balance or harmony, not in your lifetime, anyway.

But with you beside Yoongi, you thought it’d be pretty damn close.

#bts #bts scenario #bts fanfic #bts fluff #yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenario #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #suga #bts suga #bts yoongi #bts x reader #fjdslkfsdl this took me too long #watching jk's live while editing this lmao #hope you enjoy!!

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monsterywriting · 3 years

Text

Zhulgan (orc) - Prologue

next part | masterlist

AN: Thank you to those who left the kind comments on my update post :) i know i said i’d post this yesterday but reading it again i wanted to fix up some stuff and ended up pretty much completely rewriting it... i hope you all enjoy the story.

word count: 7.4k

f!orc x f!reader

When the notice of war finally reached your village, half a year had already passed since the document had been signed and issued by the king. A town meeting was called and went throughout the night. The village leaders had been nervous to hear the news, not knowing if the fighting had yet to even begin or if it was already on your doorstep. It was eventually reasoned that because no soldiers had been seen in your village nor others nearby, there was no reason to panic just yet.

It wasn’t long after that a foreign platoon swept through the village of Ozryn, pillaging the grain stores and burning down every home and storefront for good measure. No one had been prepared, all the residents sleeping soundly when the attack began.

Most of the village was wiped out, people you’d known your entire life gone in a single terror-filled night. You were among the few survivors led out of Ozryn at dawn in chains, all of you still wearing your nightclothes and most barefoot. Only a fraction of the population were spared and it was immediately noticeable that they had purposefully kept the young women alive, making their motivation for taking you all prisoner all the easier to deduce.

Still, you refrained from sharing your grim observation as some in your pitiable party wept their prayers thanking the Maker for their miraculous survival. You simply didn’t have the heart to crush their hopes so soon—not when you were still trying to come up with a concrete plan for your escape

Unfortunately, the longer the group walked, the more you worried about nightfall. You no longer recognized the land and had lost track of how far from Ozryn you were, unable to concentrate on anything besides putting one foot in front of the other once the adrenaline drained out of you.

The sun was above your head when Mauve, the blacksmith’s daughter, slowed until she closed the distance between you, the chain that connected the two of you dragging along the ground. After a few moments of tense silence to see if any of the soldiers had noticed, she whispered.

“I know where we are.”

You froze in your tracks, playing off your shock as though you merely stumbled in the mud in case any of the guards actually were watching the interaction. You took in the surrounding country, willing the endless hills and marshes to suddenly become familiar to you. It still looked like a bunch of muddy grass when Mauve continued.

“We’ll come up on another village in a day or two. Tasca, halfway to Vircia.”

The names were familiar. Tasca was to the northwest of Ozryn, Vircia straight north. It made sense Mauve would have a pretty good grasp of the land, often leaving the village with her father to make deliveries. Despite the information making your planning a bit easier, your heart still sank. Another village meant another night of death, possibly more prisoners. From Mauve’s grim expression, she had come to the same conclusion.

“Keep it to yourself for now; they can’t know we’re talking,” you finally whispered back, both of you moving back apart.

It took all your willpower not to run your hands down your face in frustration, instead directing your energy to include more people in your revised escape plan.

At some point in the afternoon, the group stopped, word traveling down the procession to set up camp. You were all left to sit around, still chained together and several soldiers guarding your group. While the others all but collapsed where they stood, you forced yourself to remain on your feet, trying to get a head count of everyone who was still alive.

While you recognized all the faces, you knew only a few by first name. Winnie, the baker’s daughter, was closest to you, the only one chained behind you. Her face was relaxed as she was already asleep. Mauve looked similarly exhausted in front of you, though she still managed to remain awake as she laid sprawled on the ground. The rest were from the farming families that lived near the village, all faring marginally better, groups of sisters sitting close together to mourn their losses quietly.

Altogether there was twelve of you, six families left represented of the thirty or so that called Ozryn home- but you crushed that thought before it began.

“What are we going to do?” The elder of the two Littlerock sisters, Rose, whispered. She was around the same age as you and Mauve, the three of you in the same class when you were in school. It took you a moment to realize she was talking to you.

You look down at the Blackbriar sisters, by far the youngest members of your group, all three still teenagers. Everything was still so uncertain—such as how the twelve of you would outrun an entire platoon with horses and crossbows and the twelve of you debilitated and on foot with not a single shoe between you. The most you could share was your line of thinking, much of your plan dependent on opportunity that wasn’t likely to present itself in the middle of an enemy camp.

“We will have to wait and see if they separate us tonight,” you begin carefully, some of the older girls’ expressions flashing with disgust as they caught the subtext. “We need to gather our strength and escape. Preferably by tonight. We’re getting near Tasca; if we can get enough of a head start, we may be able to warn them and get to Vircia.

“Or, Dumir’s soldiers are already on their way and we won’t have to do anything,” you added lamely after a moment, the paltry hope you offered clearly doing little to dispel the gloom hanging in the air. The chances you would be found by anyone able to help and before nightfall were slim, and you all were just as likely to be killed in the chaos of a battle. The only true escape would be to escape on your own, something everyone had to come to grips with on their own.

When a soldier approached your group once again, everyone scrambled to huddle together, Winnie roused from her slumber and dragged close.

You alone remained standing, facing him down and doing your best to block his view of the others. Despite your best effort to keep yourself from showing any of the fear you definitely felt, you couldn’t help but take a step back when he got uncomfortably close. He grinned at you concession, the predatory look he gave you sending chills down your spine. Perhaps you wouldn’t even have until tonight to need to escape.

“All of you, get near the fire,” he finally said, ignoring you to address the group before jerking his head towards the center of camp where a large bonfire was already going strong. “What for?” You demanded in one final act of defiance, refusing to let your gaze drop when he turned back to you, annoyance twisting his features as he now loomed over you in a different threat.

Before he could say anything, a hand fell on his shoulder, the man sending the soldier away without a single order passing through his lips. You immediately recognized him as their leader, the one riding in the front of the procession and the one who had ordered the village be burned to the ground after capturing you all.

“There’s a hot meal for you all by the fire. None of my men will bother you there,” he smiled.

You didn’t trust the kindness of his words nor the honorable front he put on. It was obviously not for any of your benefits that he protected you from the soldiers; if that were the case, none of you would be prisoners in the first place. His words did, however, give you more information about your circumstances. He needed you all alive and unharmed, if not for his soldiers or himself, then for his higher-ups and possibly until you were out of Dumir - which meant you could potentially have plenty of time to escape before finding out.

You followed after him as he turned to the fire, the others trailing close behind. He led you all to a vat hanging over the fire, soldiers serving bowls of broth and handing them out. You watched carefully as your meals were served, making sure nothing was slipped into the bowls before the hand off. Despite the likelihood of the soup already being poisoned was low, you still waited until you saw the soldiers eating before cautiously digging in.

Taking the opportunity to observe the camp’s layout, you tried to absorb your surroundings. They had set it up in a small valley, the size hidden from anyone traveling unless they happened to be right on the hills immediately surrounding it. The smoke form the fire, however, would make their location visible for miles, which meant they were either unaware that there was a village nearby or they weren’t worried about it. The former seemed even more unlikely as soldiers began to turn in to their tents despite the sun not being even close to setting. That there would be another attack that night was the more likely option.

Just as you were about to voice your observations to the others, you caught the leader staring directly at you, your eyes meeting for a brief moment before you quickly looked down at your plate. The encounter left you shaken, fearing that you had given away your intentions and ruining any chance of escape.

You woke later that evening, hours after you had been led to an empty tent and eventually fell into a fitful sleep after shaking at every noise that ventured too close to your tent. You had laid closest to the tent flap, making it a bit awkward for the others to sleep with the connecting chain but wanting to make certain that you could hear if anyone was going to enter.

There had been a guard posted outside, but as your eyes adjusted to the dark tent, you realized the camp was completely silent—save for snoring just outside the entrance.

While you don’t risk looking out and waking up the guard, you couldn’t contain your excitement as you roused everyone else from their slumber.

You couldn’t just walk out the front, the chances of the twelve people passing a sleeping guard waking him too great, but if you could crawl out the back without jostling the tent too much, then you could run up the hill and disappear in the marsh. You hurriedly whispered your plan to the others, Mauve telling them your destination should you get separated sometime in the night: the Great Gorge to the east that would lead you north, eventually near Tasca.

You, Rose and Mauve eased the back two stakes from the ground, the only injury a splinter in Rose’s finger she quickly pulled out. Once free, the canvas flapped slightly with the wind, hopefully any movement later attributed to that.

Once Mauve had the stakes, however, she got the idea to break the connecting chain, running along loops in your shackles and only fastened at the ends. While you all also had individual chains keeping your arms together, it would be much easier to move without being tethered to each other with a loud chain. Carefully looking at every link in the long chain until she found one with weak welding, she laid it on the ground and stuck the two points of the stakes into the hole, pressing down on the wider tops with both palms with all her weight until it snapped open. You all waited, everyone laying down on the chain in case the guard heard the noise.

After carefully extracting everyone in between the two people at the ends from the chain, Mauve and Rose slowly raised the fabric of the tent in the back, giving you a large enough gap to crawl out.

There was no soldier waiting to catch you as soon as you got out, fortunately. You glanced around the sides of the tent to see if there was anyone near the fire who would see all of you scaling the hill, holding on to your chains tightly as you moved so they wouldn’t make any noise.

The camp seemed deserted with the only snoring audible form the soldier that was supposed to be your guard; definitely unlikely for a camp of forty some odd men after spending the night before attacking a village to be so silent. An unease settled deep within the pit of your stomach but you brushed it aside, the more pressing matter of getting out undetected on the forefront of your mind.

The others crawled out once you signaled it was safe, immediately running as soon as you pointed them in the direction to go. Once Rose was out and gone, you held the tent open for Mauve, dropping it as soon as she was out and the two of you moving between the tents as stealthily as you could. Just as you were about to make a break for the hill, you were yanked back by your collar.

You gasped in surprise, the same soldier you had a run-in with earlier grinning once again with his sword pointed directly at you. You were caught. You tried to tell Mauve to run, but your throat was seized in panic.

Gathering every ounce of your courage, you spat in his face instead, trying to draw his attention away from Mauve so she had time to escape. It worked, his grip leaving your chain and wrapping around your neck as he shook you.

Instead of running, Mauve appeared behind him, wrapping her chain around his neck and pulling, his eyes bulging out in surprise as he dropped you with a squawk. For a moment you sat there, dazed until you realized the soldier was loud. If anyone was still in the camp, they’d definitely hear his gurgling screams. You scrambled to your feet, coughing as you gripped the shackle around your dominant hand as best you could and smashed it over the top of his head, blood spraying from the impact.

Your entire hand throbbed with pain, most acutely in your wrist. A sob escaped you almost immediately after but it had the desired effect, the soldier going limp. You stared for a moment as you watched him stare at you, twitching and then growing still. Too still. He continued to stare. You and Mauve blinked up at each other.

If he was found, it would be obvious you all escaped and in what direction. Mauve pointed at the tent and you both moved quickly to drag him back to it, you one-handed. Mauve rolled him underneath the gap while you held the loose material, careful not to get any blood on it to give yourselves that much more time.

You then ran blindly, time ticking before your group’s escape and your gruesome act were discovered. Your legs burned as you went uphill but you didn’t dare slow even after you and Mauve scaled the hill. The soldiers were already on your heels in your mind, easily following your footprints in the soft ground just as you and Mauve were following your companions’.

You weren’t sure when, but you found your hand in Mauve’s at some point as you ran, both of you tugging on the other whenever one of you stepped into a hidden pockets of water. The two of you were in the true marshland now, the tall grass making it impossible to tell where the wet soil ended and water began. The moon was but a sliver in the sky, as though she kept her light to herself to keep your trek cloaked in darkness from your pursuers. You looked over your shoulder feeling your stomach drop when the column of smoke originating from an orange glow wasn’t nearly as far as you imagined.

“How far is the ravine?” You pant, your hand and throat still throbbing.

“We should make it before dawn,” Mauve answered.

Over the course of the night, you rejoin Rose and Winnie, the latter one of the first to take off but a slow runner. None of you let her fall behind, forcing your group to move slower. It was dawn when you reached the gorge, a jagged break in the landscape with eight ghostly figures visible standing at its edge.

Rose ran ahead, pulling her sister Lily in a tight embrace. You, Mauve and Winnie, being the only members of your respective families to survive, are much slower to join, feeling awkward to interrupt the reunion and somewhat envious that there was no one for any of you to rejoin.

“You’re covered in blood!” Winnie suddenly cried out, looking at you and Mauve in horror in the morning light. You had thought the blood had been washed from you with all the water you fell into throughout the night, but if Mauve’s red face was any indication of what you looked like, you could understand the concern.

“We’re fine,” you said grimly, “but we need to assume that they found out we’re gone already and move fast.”

“Are we going to climb down?” Grace, the eldest of the four Cedar girls, asked, her voice hoarse.

You look at everyone, all covered in mud and looking about as tired as you felt. Unfortunately, your morbid gift in the tent had undoubtedly been found by now, so there could be no breaks.

“Yes,” Mauve answered for you, looking over the edge, “We can rest once we reach the bottom, but up here we’re too exposed.”

You look down as well, the slope steep but not an entirely sheer drop, likely the result of rockslides and time. Swallowing back the growing lump in your throat, you began to pick your way down, sitting forcefully whenever the rocky surface would break away under your bare feet.

A rock suddenly bounced off your back, very nearly making you lose your balance as you feared the entire thing was coming down on you. You looked up, the others also moving down the path you left. The further you descended, the colder the air grew, the small amount of sun you did have disappearing behind rock.

Contrary to what Mauve promised, you pushed the girls to continue moving, following the tapering stream north. The only way to tell the passage of time was the brightening sky, white fluffy clouds moving across the narrow strip of blue you could see. You pass natural grooves in the stone face, not quite large enough to be considered caves but which could provide a decent refuge when you do decide to stop, keeping you hidden from anyone looking from above.

You wanted to put as much distance as you could between you and the soldiers, hopefully going far enough out of their way that they couldn’t justify wasting resources searching for you. Unfortunately, none of you had much strength left to keep moving, the group forced to stop when the youngest Blackbriar girl collapsed in exhaustion.

Everyone huddled into one of the grooves, too cold and scared to split up though that was probably the wiser option. You planned to remain awake, listening for any sign that you’d been followed, but you passed out almost as soon as you leaned against the wall only to be shaken awake by Rose what felt like only a moment later and feeling entirely unrested.

Because your group was at the clear disadvantage - traveling with limited visibility in every direction with the tall cliff faces and the winding path of the ravine - you decided it would be best to travel by night, which would also allow the others time to rest.

You, Rose and Mauve remained awake to come up with a plan, Tasca still half a day’s walk away at least and no food or water to sustain the twelve of you until you reached the village. It was then you finally shared your concern that the reason you all were able to escape the night before was because the camp was empty. It was unlikely you could make it to the village before the battalion, if they did indeed leave to attack it as they had Ozryn.

Rose sobbed as you pointed out that even if you did go straight to Vircia and managed to survive without eating, none of you had any money or appropriate clothes, meaning it was still necessary to go to Tasca and hope there were still some valuables left untouched for you to take.

It was the third morning since the attack that your emotions finally hit full force, weeping silently into your hands until you finally slipped into unconsciousness, and even then the faces of the people of your village haunted you. You replayed the moments you tried escaping, running through the garden as you felt an incredible heat on your back as your home was engulfed in flames behind you. Once again you were cut off by a soldier on horseback and dragged back into the heart of the village, the faces of the stacked bodies you passed stared blankly up at you, covered in soot and blood. You thought about the same look on the soldier’s face back at the camp.

You didn’t let a single noise leave you, not wanting to wear down the others’ spirits any further. For some reason, possibly from some misguided belief that because your father had been the justice of the peace of Ozryn that you were the natural person to listen to, they were all relying on you to get them all to safety. For better or for worse, you would have to remain strong.

When you suddenly felt a hand press onto your shoulder you jumped, whipping around to see Winnie looking at you with similarly glistening eyes. You reached blindly for her and she immediately embraced you. You were grateful for her sturdy frame engulfing you, the two of you falling asleep like that, comforted by each other’s presence.

That night, you travelled again until dawn, stopped for a short rest and then looked for a way to climb out of the gorge safely. The walls were significantly less steep here - about double Rose’s, the tallest of your group, height - not nearly as much of a canyon as it had been out in the marshland. Despite that, none of you could afford any injuries in this pivotal moment in your journey. If the attack on Tasca was anything like Ozryn, the battalion was likely long gone, but you wanted to be prepared for the worst case scenario.

One of the Blackbriar girls found something better, noticing an old goat path along the cliff face with just enough space for each of you to ascend in a single-file line, the river they were brought to long gone but the route carved by countless cloven hooves remaining.

Once the group cleared the gorge, you found yourselves in a pine forest, the mud replaced with dried needles. The unfavorable terrain made everyone slow down, the sharp points of the pine needles making everyone flinch at some point or another.

“Do we all have to go?” One of the Cedar sisters suddenly piped up, her voice trembling with emotion, “Shouldn’t some of us stay in the gorge?”

You sighed, knowing her concern wasn’t entirely unfounded and likely mirrored the thoughts of most of others. You also were loath to see another ruined village, but to split up was dangerous, especially with no supplies or familiarity with the area.

“I’ll go into the village, but you should all stay close,” you answer, quickly adding, “Spread out but keep within each other’s line of sight. Run the moment you even think there might be danger.”

There were slow nods of agreement, but Mauve stepped forward to stop you from leaving.

“I should go, too,” She argued, “two sets of hands is better than one.”

You shake your head firmly, “You have the most profitable skill among us, Mauve. We need you if we’re going to make it in a larger city.”

You didn’t give anyone else time to argue, venturing through the forest the rest of the way alone. There was no smell that would suggest an entire village was burned two nights ago as you approached, but the forest was also completely silent save for the birds flitting through the tops of the trees. When you finally reached the first buildings, they were all still intact but there was no sign of life.

Entering a few of the homes confirmed your suspicion. Tasca had been deserted, likely long before just a few days ago as there was no evidence of a mad dash to get out. Nothing had been left disturbed, wardrobes and dressers carefully closed once emptied, picture frames and other personal items - things that would have been left behind if there was a sudden attack in the night - gone. Even if the soldiers hadn’t ransacked the village two nights ago, you suspected that you wouldn’t find much.

Just as you ended a fruitless search of the village center, you were suddenly seized outside the building, crying out as you were hauled by your hair out into the commons. You caught only a glimpse of your captor, bile rising in your throat as you immediately recognized the leader of the platoon.

Your heart leapt into your throat, any kind front he put up the day before gone as he glared down at you with purple-faced fury. You looked frantically around at the other soldiers surrounding you, your relief that no one else had been caught short-lived as you began to worry about your own fate.

The leader was yelling at you, but you didn't hear much as he shook you like the answers would come tumbling from your lips. You couldn’t say anything as you tried to keep your neck stiff, your stunned silence only seeming to stoke the flames of his wrath. The soldiers were silent as he dragged you to his waiting horse, snatching his riding crop from the saddle and bringing it down on your exposed calf.

You could only scream, mind completely blank with terror. It’s impossible to think, to come up with some means of getting out of this situation alive, but you were struggling to even believe you could.

Suddenly, a horn - an unmistakeable signal for battle - blasted from the forest, seemingly from everywhere by the way the sound bounced off the pines but definitely close. Shouting erupted around you, though you were only vaguely aware of the chaos as you had gone entirely limp, no energy left in you to react to yet another dramatic turn of events. The leader attempted to pull your dead weight onto his horse, shouting for one of his men to help him, but he was alone in focusing on taking you prisoner, everyone else simply trying to survive the apparent ambush.

You managed to get a full view of the scene unfurling in front of you, not quite registering that orcs were storming into the village from the forest and attacking the platoon. In your defense, you were no where near the orcs’ lands, their shared border with Dumir to the west and definitely not extending this far south or east - orc raiders were the last thing you would expect to suddenly save you, more likely perhaps than only the king of Dumir himself or aliens.

You were released suddenly, narrowly avoiding getting stamped into the ground by the leader’s retreating horse. You ran unsure where you were going but well aware you couldn’t remain in the middle of a battle, at least having the wherewithal to go at a 90 degree angle from where the orc horde was currently pouring out of the forest in an attempt to get out of their way as fast as possible.

You could only pray that the others heard the ruckus and managed to escape, focusing on getting as much distance between you and the fight. Had you any money to bet, it would have been squarely on the orcs, but you weren’t about to stick around and risk getting killed or captured all over again, especially once they realized the village was empty.

The pines began to thin and you began to slow, believing you were nearing the gorge. You immediately skidded to a halt, your heart pounding in your chest as an entire orc caravan stared back at you, clearly as startled to see you as you were to see them.

When an old orc woman stood, you swiveled to your left and ran, though you didn’t even make it more than a few steps before you ran straight into another orc.

You floundered in his hold, unable to understand anything he was saying to you in your panic until a familiar name cut through - Ozryn. Before you could ask what he knew of your village, you heard your name, looking over your shoulder to see the others all standing there, clean and wearing different clothes. Their restraints were gone.

“We thought you’d been caught!” Winnie cried, her and the others rushing forward towards you, “It’s okay, they’re here to help.”

“You speak orcish?” You asked, still somewhat dismayed by all the things happening in such quick succession.

“No, I speak common,” the orc answered instead, much to your surprise. His accent was thick, because of his native tongue or from the tusks you weren’t certain, “The soldiers that destroyed your village trespassed on our land when they crossed into your country. We tracked them from then.”

A bitter taste was left in your mouth as you imagined how differently things would have been had they found the soldiers sooner, even if by just a few days. You would have still been at home, at this time likely taking taking your father and brother their forgotten lunches.

“I am Alkgan. Come, let’s get those chains off. Then you can bathe and change clothes, too,” he said, ushering you towards one of the wagons.

Various weapons were leaned against its wooden side, Alkgan disappearing to talk with whoever was inside the wagon. While you waited, you took in your surroundings, not quite ready to accept that you were completely safe just yet. Beasts milled around the wagons, tearing at the grass; it took you a moment to realize they were cattle, never seeing a breed so large before. The camp was populated mostly by children, from toddlers to young teens. It was obvious where most of the adults were. Few of the children paid you any mind, and those that did seemed more interested in your shackles than the group of strangers walking around the camp.

“This is Vulgud,” Alkgan said, bringing your attention back to the wagon, “He is our weaponsmith.”

The tall orc in question was stepping down from the wagon with a small iron object in hand. You had expected the chain to be broken with a large hammer on the anvil on the ground nearby. Instead, he took one of your hands and searched for the key hole, inserting the tool and seemingly randomly jiggling it around. Within moments, the shackle popped open, giving away and swinging while he repeated the process with your other hand.

You thanked Vulgud, running your finger along the bruised skin of your dominant hand’s wrist, evidence of what you did the night you escaped. It was big, spanning from your knuckles down your arm.

You quickly hid your arm as the old orc woman from before approached, a herd of young children following her. She held a bundle of clothes and ushering you towards a large basin.

Small, chubby hands of every shade of green held onto the rim, all trying to see who was in their tub. You smiled in between scrubbing the mud from your body with soap, the water thankfully opaque with all the grime and dirt from the last two days. They didn’t speak common, directing their questions in orcish to the old woman. She bared her teeth and growled, sending them all scattering, nodding to you before leaving you.

When you were finally changing into the clean set of clothes, Rose gasped, her gaze directed not to your arm but your legs. You looked down as well, noticing the welts that had grown more pronounced on your leg. You had felt the sting while you walked, but you hadn’t realized they had gotten so noticeable with all the dried mud. You pulled up the trousers, covering the marks. The clothes were clearly made for orc children, fitting your waist around but the leg not quite reaching your ankles. Fortunately, the boots you were provided made up for the difference, making the shorter length look purposeful.

Rose left the matter of your wounds at that, both of you returning to the others silently. Once you rejoined the others, Mauve filled you in on what happened while you were in Tasca.

Apparently, they had been found by the orc caravan shortly after you left, before they even had a chance to split up as you planned. They thought they were residents of the village before they saw the chains. It was a fortunate coincidence that the very people you all were running from were the same ones they spent weeks looking for.

“So, what now?” Mauve finished with a question, the others now gathered around you, “Do we still go to Vircia?”

“Shouldn’t we return home to Ozryn?” Grace argued, “The soldiers are all dead, it should be safe now!”

“Why can’t we stay here?” Winnie asked, “It’s safe; at least for a few days…”

“What if we rode along with the orcs?” Rose said, “I’m so tired of running… they’ve helped us so far. I’m sure they’ll pass by Vircia, at least.”

“You haven’t heard?” You all jumped as Alkgan approached the group, all of you watching him expectantly. “Most of the villages we passed were burned down… The larger cities are the same since humans have been fleeing Dumir through our lands for months-”

You stopped listening, despondent over the revelation. Your entire world had literally been razed to the ground just a few days ago and the final shred of hope you had been clinging to had been ripped away as well.

The others were staring at you. You could feel it, but you had no comfort or assurances to offer this time. The news was just as abrupt for you and you had no fallback. They all expected you to be like your father, always knowing exactly what to do and how to adapt, but he also never had to deal with situations of this magnitude in Ozryn so you felt entitled to take a moment.

Wordlessly, you turned around and walked away, unable to provide them the answers the so desperately wanted and overwhelmed with the weight of twelves lives you had found thrusted upon your shoulders. You had convinced yourself that everything would be alright so long as you could reach Vircia, that there would be people there who would no what to do, that you could somehow escape the rest of the war. It was the only way to convince yourself to keep moving and not just curl up and wait to reunite with your parents and brother.

Tasca gone you could handle - you had already suspected it to be the next target of the soldiers and it was always meant to be a stepping stone - but to learn that every other village and town was no longer an option…

You walked straight out of the camp, eventually leaving the forest behind and squatting down in the tall grass. You didn’t sit, not so besides yourself in grief as to dirty the borrowed clothes so soon but still trying to curl up as small as possible. You tried to dampen the nausea you’ve felt for days now, willing yourself to stop dry heaving. There was nothing in your stomach to bring up, but that fact did not stop your body from trying.

Alkgan appeared next to you at some point, plopping down on the ground and waiting for you to compose yourself before speaking.

“The others look up to you. They said you were the reason they were able to escape. Even refused to leave after we removed their shackles.”

“I see,” you croaked, not really seeing anything but wanting to be polite. You wondered why Alkgan didn’t go with the other raiders.

“You aren’t pleased that they see you as their leader?”

You snorted at that, “I’m no leader. There’s just no one else left from our village; they didn’t have any choice.”

“Of course they had a choice!” A deep rumbling that you soon realized was laughter came from deep within Alkgan’s chest as he looked down at you with amusement, the colorful beads that adorned his twin braids rattling together, “They had eleven others, or even choose no one. If you do not accept their trust, then you waste it… and you will need it if you are going to survive.”

You were taken aback by the unexpectedly profound piece of wisdom, the encouragement seemingly from out of the blue. Perhaps that was Alkgan’s role for the caravan, his insight so vital he didn’t go out into battle.

Before you could thank him for his advice, however, the sound of the horn once again echoed through the forest, signaling the return of the raiders. Before the sound even faded, Alkgan was up and walking back to the camp and you close behind, the orc woman leading the group calling out to him in orcish.

She was tall, a whole head taller than Alkgan once he was standing in front of her, who you thought was too tall already. Her armor was dented and covered in blood but she seemed to be in a good mood after the battle, baring her teeth in a gruesome smile and shaking her black plaited hair out of her helm. You gulped as she looked at you, her gaze clearly analyzing you. You were definitely intimidated, glad that you were not been the one to have crossed the orcs.

Mauve had told you that the warriors had already split off from the main group when they were found, so they definitely had no idea why a bunch of humans were in their camp. You could hear nothing while the two talked, the snippets you caught all in orcish anyways, but there was a lot of pointing and looking over at you, which was disconcerting. You stayed rooted in your spot, trying not to look as anxious as you felt while Alkgan walked back towards with you, the orc woman following him. You managed to at least maintain eye contact, even when you had to crane your neck back as they got closer.

“This is the chief of this caravan, Zhulgan,” he introduced the newcomer before turning to her and saying something in orcish.

You could definitely see a resemblance up close even without the similar names, their facial structures strikingly similar and the same mottled shades of green. The two went back and forth for a minute, both seemingly getting annoyed with the other.

The nausea flared up again as your imagination ran wild about what they were discussing, clearly about what to do with the twelve of you. The most obvious thing was being taken prisoner again. Even if your experience thus far told you differently, you felt that orcs would be a less desirable captor than fellow humans.

“We’ll be leaving soon,” Alkgan finally met your gaze once again and you relaxed slightly, though the apologetic look he gave you kept you from fully calming down, “She says… your group should leave now.”

The tension immediately returned to your shoulders. You hadn’t expected to be faced with a decision on what to do so soon, despite having just discussed you options with the others. At the time, it had seemed far away, like you had been getting in front of the issue before it became one and you hadn’t even been able to come to a consensus.

“I- but- Surely you could just stay for the night? If you can just leave in the morning-?” You floundered, trying to think of some reason that could buy you some time to figure out what to do.

“I’m sorry, but we’ve remained on this land for too long already, especially during a war. We’re low on supplies already, we must go,” Alkgan said, the pity clear in his eyes.

You were on the verge of panicking, your mind and heart racing as you willed yourself to come up with some plan, an easy fix that would knock out all your problems. You had no time, unable to pause the conversation to talk to the others, so you were forced to act on impulse.

“What if we travelled with you?” You asked, the desperation clear in your voice. It was a long shot; Alkgan knew your plan was to go north and they were heading west; not to mention that you had nothing to offer them as payment in exchange.

Alkgan didn’t even bother to translate your request before responding, “That’s not possible. You’re humans-”

Zhulgan said something in orcish, Alkgan shaking his head.

“If everyone is fleeing Dumir, we will probably need to leave, anyways.”

“You can cross the border faster here.”

“Some of the girls have family out west.” A blatant lie, but necessary to try and sway Alkgan with a plausible enough excuse. “If they left, it would have been through the orc lands.”

You suppressed every nervous tic that threatened to disrupt your straight face, willing Alkgan to take the natural next step in his argument: that you had nothing to offer. You couldn’t decide who to look at to implore - Zhulgan was the chief, but Alkgan was taking charge of the conversation - so you awkwardly flitted your gaze between the two as a compromise. Zhulgan was staring solely at you, apparently trusting her brother enough to allow him to do so.

“Well you can’t cross without-”

“-paying tribute,” you finished with just a tad too much eagerness but now confident that you could win this argument, “As you know, our village was destroyed. We have nothing of material value to offer you, but we can work off our debt. Mauve knows how to work in a forge and can work metal. We can also help you procure supplies from any of the towns- or work with your animals or help take care of the young ones-”

Alkgan laughed, boisterously loud and making you jump. Zhulgan was still watching you closely, an unreadable look flashing across her eyes, though it was possible you imagined it. You were breathing heavily, not having taken in any air during your passionate monologue. You weren’t entirely sure if Alkgan was impressed with your quick thinking or convinced that you were completely insane.

Rather than clarify, he turned to speak with Zhulgan. You had no way of gauging if the discussion was in your favor or not, Alkgan still looking amused and Zhulgan’s expression frustratingly impassive.

After what felt like an eternity, Zhulgan turned to you, her expression inscrutable. “Your group may travel with us.”

Your jaw dropped, never once suspecting that she could understand what you were saying the entire time. You were embarrassed, believing she would only get a summarized explanation of your words. Still, your proposition had been accepted either way and you were relieved.

Of course, you didn’t have long to enjoy the victory, Zhulgan ordering the orcs to begin loading the wagons. You would have to break the news to everyone else - a prospect that made you dread the role of unofficial leader anew. Grace had already expressed her desire to go home and at least some of the others must agree. However, Alkgan’s words came back to you, putting some air back into your sails. They trusted you to keep everyone safe and you wouldn’t waste it.

#exophilia #monster girlfriend #orc #reader insert

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cherryhanji · 3 years

Text

vivid

oneshot. hyunjin x reader

genre: fluff, childhood friends au, a travel to other universe au (pfft), bit of angst, purely platonic, female reader

words: 2.4k

warning(s): mention of injury and death(not that serious tho), coarse language, italicized words are in present

•••

The dismal frown never left your face ever since you woke up four hours ago after you accidentally banged your poor head against the cold tile of your bathroom last night. You thought you'll die at that moment because you were unconscious all night (but you were just overreacting because you were here, mentally cursing the poor coffee for being lukewarm)

Your gaze turn to the window displaying the current state of weather outside your home. "What a gloomy day", you thought. You suddenly remembered your "friend". How warm his smiles are, his laugh that is soft to the ears, how he patiently told you that you were his "childhood bestfriend". You wish you were, but in reality, he's only a product of your vivid dream.

____

"What a heavy sleeper, tsk." A voice of a guy woke up your senses, but it is utterly impossible that it is your roommate carrying you because he just left yesterday for their three-day retreat in Incheon. You slowly opened your eyes, trying to focus your vision on the guy gently laying you down to what it seems like a comfortable surface, probably not your bed because it's not that comfortable unlike this one. Once you got a good view of the unfamiliar human being beside you, your mind jolted awake and stand up from where you were lying down. The blonde guy frowning at you, as if you were being weird. Well, this whole thing itself is weird. Just who the hell is the guy and what is he doing in your apar—

Wait. This isn't your apartment. Your apartment is quite messy since it's been a week when you last cleaned it. This one is so neat. The wall decals are too— cute, you think. You were not into wall designs and customization after all.

"What the hell." You mumbled, enough for the guy to hear it because of the proximity between you.

"Yeah, what the hell, Y/N. You know, you were the one who told me we're going to watch a movie. I left a while ago to check for the popcorn, I came back when I heard a thud but it's just you, being a sleepyhead as always." He huffed and flicked your forehead making you grunt and swat his hand away.

"You— how do you know my name and how the hell did I end up here?" You blurted out making him stifle a laugh.

"Y/N, you better stop watching dramas from now on. You know what, stop joking a—"

"I'm not joking around." Something about the seriousness in your voice made the boy stop his banters. Confusion started pooling around his eyes as he stare at you. While you remained silent and impatient, impatient to know what kind of fuss is happening to you right now.

"Now, will you tell me who you are and how did you know my name, and how did I end up in here... I assume this is your apartment." He nodded slowly at your assertion. He cleared his throat and shifted on his seat to fully face you, while you move a bit away from him, feeling awkward at the unfamiliarity of the person. He looks harmless, though. The type of guy you want to befriend. His soft features slowly making you relax, as if you've known him for a long time. But you just don't have any clues about him. Everything. You are clueless.

"Uhm, if you're being serious right now... I'm Hyunjin, your neighbor and your childhood bestfriend. We knew each other since we were seven. We attend the same school, we're inseparable as hell and... You end up here because you texted me last night telling me that you want to watch movies. You fell asleep for like an hour ago then we're here." He shrugged while your mouth just stay agaped, completely stupefied at what he just said. You remembered not having a childhood friend since you were seven, because your parents never let you play with your neighbor's children. You don't remember having someone attending the same school as you. You and your roommate attend different schools.

"Are you okay?" You went out of your trance when Hyunjin asked you softly, not wanting to scare you. His warm hazel orbs soothing your confused mind. It's like his soft gaze made you respond. Your response made him keen, he smiled and gesture to you to wait for him as he stand up from his seat and went somewhere.

While he was gone, you got the chance to fully look at his apartment. Your eyes glued to the one picture displayed on the rack beside his tv set. A picture of a younger version of a boy that you assume was him and "you". You were certain it was you. Because the child looks exactly, exactly as you. The way you dressed when you were a kid. The way you put clips on your hair, it's exactly like the kid on the picture. Your appreciation of the room were cut when Hyunjin went back, a box in his hands.

He placed the box in front of you, your brows morphed from calm to knitted, confused why would he bring a box to you.

"This box contains all the shit we did together, in case you forgot. Open them, and see for yourself." You contemplate at first, but the curiosity made you open the box. Lots of papers, lots of sentimental things a person keeps whenever it holds something dear for them. You see an empty packet of candies inside, surprise to see that it's your favorite candy. You huffed softly when you saw a metal spoon from a restaurant, grabbing it hearing a chuckle from him.

"The fork's with you. Remember that? Six years ago, you gave me a dare to take home those utensils from that restaurant? I almost peed on my pants when the waiter looked at my direction while i'm putting those inside my bag. Good thing I already closed my bag. I gave you the fork for a proof, you told me." He rolled his eyes and chuckle as he recall the memory, but you just smiled, weirded out with your other you's antics. You carefully placed the spoon back and grabbed a folded yellow pad paper with lots of scribbles in it.

"Ah, that one. I asked you some answers because I really don't have any fucking idea that we have a long quiz on Mathematics that time. And being the good best friend you are, you gave me your answers. We were almost caught, but I'm good at hiding." He said and winked. You continue inspecting the contents of the box. Everything have different memories held with them. Every memory your other you made with him. At one point, you wished that you lived in this life. You wish you were your other you. You never experience all these things. You were a loner. You barely had friends and one reason is because you just suck at socializing. Your only roommate is who you consider as a good friend. But not as sentimental as Hyunjin.

"A-are we really that close?" You asked and he just nod in response.

"Uh huh. And no one can separate us. Even our parents." He said and emit a hearty chuckle made you did the same.

"S-sorry..." You mumbled, stopping him from his chuckling. He just tsk-ed and ruffled your hair. You just felt sorry for him, you don't know anything about him, personally. You don't even know his family name, only his first name, and the things he told you that you two did together back then. But you like his warm persona, a kind of friend you wish you had.

"Don't be. You didn't do anything— wait, the popcorn! I almost forgot. Why don't I get them first and let's start this movie marathon, hmm?" He stand up and went to the kitchen to get the popcorn. A feeling of contentment bubbled up your chest. Maybe staying here won't hurt, right? The feeling pf warmth, comfort, and having a good friend (take note, a childhood bestfriend) are all here. Even if it's just a dream. A dream that you wish was reality.

____

You were calmly watching a movie that Hyunjin picked himself. The feeling of aloofness already gone, comfort and coziness was more patent especially when you let Hyunjin leaned his head on your shoulders. You smiled as you look down at him, your hands unconsciously ruffling his blonde locks emitting a hum of content from him.

"No wonder you're really you." He said, making you retract your hands from his hair and mumbling sorry to him.

"Tsk. Stop saying sorry, will ya?" He chided, grabbing your hand and placed it back on his hair, your fingers spontaneously fiddling with his soft tresses, the feeling was nice, and you don't want to stop. It seems like you were really the one to do it.

"You love ruffling my hair, remember? Especially when I bleached it. You won't stop running your hands on it. You always tell me how badly you want to bleach yours too but your mom won't allow you." He explained and pinched your cheeks. You just gave him a bonafide smile. You never felt so happy before. With the short span of time you had spent with Hyunjin, having a good buddy is so new to your feeling. It's like you can be you in front of him, no pretense, and you're glad that your other "you" has the same characteristics like yours, it feels like this is really your life, your universe where your "childhood best friend", Hyunjin, exists. At some point, you thought to yourself that you don't like to wake up anymore. That you'll stay here forever in this universe, in this dream, with your friend. Basking in the warm fuzzies you felt as Hyunjin embraced you with platonic affection, like a good friend that he is.

"Hyunjin..." You called him softly, his eyes forming crescents when he finally heard you call him with his first name since you woke up from your "weird sleep". He hummed as he straightened his position from leaning his head on your shoulders. You grinned at him and held his hand with yours, his expression is a bit confused yet his smile never left his lips.

"Uh— I... I just wanna say thank you." You felt your cheeks flushed as his warm orbs stare at you.

"For what? For letting you eat all the popcorn and chicken? Oh no, you don't have to thank me, I know how much of a pig you are." He jested but you just laughed it off, realizing that you ate too much of the food he prepared for the both of you.

"Oh- okay! But, no. That's not what I meant. I mean— thank you... For being a good friend to me. T-thank you for staying with me. Thank you for treating me like I am someone special." You felt his hand squeezed yours affectionately, even though in his point of view, you were being weird today.

"You know, with our years of friendship, even if you don't tell it to me that you're thankful, trust me, I can feel it. And I hope you feel it too, that I'm grateful to have you as my best friend, my confidante— and please" he said and frowned, removing his hands from your grasp, your mind confused at his sudden change of actions.

"Can we stop here? I'm not used to you being so sentimental. So dramatic" he scoffed. You just stifled a laugh as you remember him crying at the movie from a while ago. Dramatic and sentimental huh?

"Wait, who's the one crying over a movie?" You taunted hearing him huffed in defense.

"Why? The movie's genre was drama! And it's really heartbreaking! Gosh! You're not watching, no? The movie's so nice an—" he stopped when you suddenly snaked your arms around him, squeezing him.

"Okay okay Hyunjin! Haha! I-I'm the dramatic one okay? Now, let me stay like this hm? I kinda want to squeeze you right now." You said and snuggle yourself in his warmth more, familiarizing yourself with this comfy feeling. He just huffed and played with your hair, making you a bit sleepy.

"Hmp, admit that you just want to hug me, idiot." He remarked but he just let you. The calm beating of his heart, his hands caressing your locks are like a lullaby that is slowly putting you to sleep, and it successfully did. Hyunjin's warmth made you fall into slumber.

___

Your eyes slowly opened, squinting when the strong ray of sunlight passed by your flimsy curtain—

"Thank God you're finally awake, I thought I need to call doctors now." You heard Seungmin's voice from your door. You're back. You're back in your real world. This is the reality where you belong, and at some point, it saddens you. But you need to accept that it was just a dream, a vivid one. A wonderful dream you'll never forget.

"Uh... Y/N? Are you okay?" You jumped when your roommate slowly tapped your shoulder, you just sighed and nodded.

"Hm yeah. Wait- you're supposed to be in Incheon for three days right? Why are you here? It's already done?" He just frowned and shrugged.

"Well, the school cancelled it because of the weather. I went back last night, and I saw you lying on the bathroom floor, you know what, I outright panicked. But you're still breathing and it seems like you fell asleep, so I brought you here." He said and you just nod slowly. Remembering nothing after you slipped, only your dream with your friend.

"Uh, thanks. I slipped and banged my head on the floor. The impact is kinda hard but, I'm okay now." You said and fished for your phone to check the time.

"You sure?" He insisted and you just nod.

"Okay then. Oh— I prepared some breakfast for you. I already ate, I don't want to wake you up so–" he smiled sheepishly making you smile.

"It's okay Seung. Thanks." He just nod and smiled before leaving you alone to prepare.

That short time with Hyunjin was a nice journey. You can still feel the warmth, Hyunjin's hearty smile, his welcoming persona. You wish that in this reality, you'll also meet a person like him. You'll also meet the "Hyunjin" here in your own universe, not only in your dreams.

#districtninewriters #inkidz #stayhavennet #skzwriternet #stayverse #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids oneshot #stray kids imagines #hwang hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyunjin fluff #stray kids au #hyunjin x reader #stray kids x stay

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petersasteria · 4 years

Text

168 Hours - Haz Osterfield (8)

Pairing: Haz x Reader

Haz Osterfield Masterlist || Ultimate Masterlist || 168 Hours Masterlist

DISCLAIMER: *This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: In which your son’s wish comes true and it turns horrible. Now, he has to fix it in 168 hours.

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 something to happen can only go two ways. One, it can go really well. Two, it can fail and it'll make us want to crawl in a hole and die of shame. Amadis and Harley were really nervous. They only have one hundred and twenty hours left for their mission. If you translate that in days, they only have five days left. Time was really ticking and they really need their plan to work.

They weren't nervous about asking Harrison to join them because Harrison was a free guy. It was Y/N they were worried about. She's always near Tom and they were worried that Tom might join them for their lunch. If that happens, they'll have to think of a back up plan. A back up plan that they don't have yet.

Take note: in planning something, we must have back up plans until we finish all the letters of the alphabet. When all twenty-six plans fail, that's the time when we should crawl in a hole and die of shame.

"Will this work?" Harley asks as he bites his nails. Amadis glances at the ten year old boy and scrunches his face, "First of all, stop that or God won't let you grow any nails anymore."

Harley looks at him innocently and stops biting his nails.

"Second of all, I'm not sure if it's going to work. But since I literally work for God, there's a big chance that it might work." Amadis tells him. Harley just nods as they both stare at the restaurant's door.

"What does your Apple Watch say?" Harley asks after a minute.

Amadis checks his watch and sighs, "It says here that they're getting ready."

"But that was like an hour ago!" Harley whines and rests his head on the table.

"Don't be overreacting, Harley." Amadis chuckles. "It was just ten minutes ago. Besides, they're probably on the way now."

As soon as he says that, the restaurant doors open only to reveal Y/N and Harrison walking towards them.

"Well, speak of the devil." Amadis says in shock.

"Isn't that against the angels' law or something? Talking about the devil?" Harley asks in confusion.

"I don't think so. If it were against the law, then all of us angels would be sanctioned. So far, no one's been sanctioned for years." Amadis shrugs as he stands up and pulls out a chair for Y/N.

"Aww, thank you." Y/N smiles sweetly as she sits down. Harrison sits next to her and they all greet each other. Amadis goes back to his seat and they all order.

"Thanks for inviting me! I honestly thought I'd never see you again." Y/N chuckles as she puts the table napkin on her lap.

"Well, you're wrong." Amadis chuckles lightly. "So how's your engagement and stuff? All good?"

Amadis notices her face falling after he asks that. Y/N quickly gives them a small smile and sighs, "It's, uh, really stressful. Can we- Can we not talk about it? I was really hoping for a relaxing day."

"I'm sorry for asking." Amadis bites his lips, immediately feeling guilty for asking.

"It's okay. You didn't know. Tom isn't really helping with the planning. He's always so busy and he's out of the country right now." Y/N tells them.

Their food arrives and they begin to eat.

"Where'd he go?" Harley asks.

"Prague. He told me he was there for business. In fact, he just left today." Y/N shrugs.

Harley and Amadis quickly look at each other before turning back to Y/N. Amadis smiles and says, "Speaking of Prague, I'm going there for work too."

Harley puts his acting skills to use and begins to act all sad. Amadis pats Harley's head, "This is why I asked both of you here. I was wondering if both of you could watch him while I'm gone?"

"How long will you be gone?" Harrison asks.

"Two to three days. Depends on how long they'll need me." Amadis shrugs.

"Oh, okay. I can totally watch him." Y/N smiles. "I love kids."

"Same here." Harrison grins. "But wait, where will he stay?"

Harley speaks up, "I just want to stay at the apartment if I'm being honest."

"I can stay with you." Y/N and Harrison say at the same time. They look at each other and laugh. Amadis subtly nudges Harley as Harley just looks down to hides his smirk.

"I'm okay with both of you staying there." Amadis says. "You guys can temporarily move there later, because I leave later tonight."

"Oh, okay." Harrison nods. "I can pack now so we can hang out earlier. I have nothing to do anyway."

"Same here. I'm kind of avoiding my best friend. She's acting like a bridezilla." Y/N rolls her eyes.

"Bridezilla? I thought YOU were getting married?" Harrison furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

"Yes, but she's the one who's helping me plan and she's so... ugh! Let's just say that she's not my favorite person right now. There are four days left until the wedding and I just need a break." Y/N sighs.

"I can help you plan." Harrison says as he looks at her. Y/N looks at him and it's the first time she's really looking at him. She notices his blue eyes and his glowing face and beautiful smile. She swears to herself that he's different from Tom. A good different. She wasn't really happy with Tom anymore.

"Really? That'd be amazing. We can plan at the apartment." Y/N smiles.

"I can't wait." Harrison beams. They stare at each other and Amadis clears his throat for both of them to snap out of it. They look away from each other and chuckle.

"I'm glad both of you are getting acquainted pretty well. I hope you'll get acquainted with my... brother too." Amadis says.

Harley just nods.

"I think we'll get along pretty well." Y/N smiles.

"Okay are you sure both of you will be okay with it?" Amadis asks. He's worried about the plan now.

"Yeah we'll be fine, Amadis." Harrison chuckles. "Don't worry about it. Good luck on your work."

"Thanks, man. I owe you one." Amadis says as he takes his backpack. He looks behind him and bids goodbye to Y/N. Harley runs up to him and gives him the biggest hug.

"I'll miss you." Harley whispers.

"I won't lie, I'll miss you too." Amadis sighs. "But we need to make this work, okay?"

"I know. Good luck in Prague." Harley smiles and pulls away.

"Okay, bye guys! See you guys in a few days!" Amadis smiles and leaves. He quickly runs up to the rooftop where Saint Christopher is waiting. When he gets there, Saint Christopher is sitting on the ground as he scrolls through his phone. Amadis clears his throat to make his presence known and Saint Christopher immediately looks up from his phone and stands up, "What took you so long?"

"Well, I had to say goodbye." Amadis says.

"Let's hurry up! I want to go to Prague too." Saint Christopher says.

Amadis walks to him and looks at him weirdly, "I thought you've been there a couple of times already because people to to you whenever they travel and stuff."

"Just because they pray to me doesn't mean that I go there with him. There are a lot of them and I can't split myself into billions." Saint Christopher playfully rolls his eyes.

"Whatever. let's just go. I want to see what Tom Holland is up to." Amadis holds on to Saint Christopher's arm.

"Tom Holland the soon to be CEO or something? His mother just prayed to me hours ago! How fun!" Saint Christopher giggles as both of them teleport to an angels' apartment in Prague.

They quickly get there in a second. Amadis looks around and looks at Saint Christopher, "Are we here already?"

"Yup!"

"How did that happen?! I literally just blinked." Amadis says in shock.

"I know." Saint Christopher smirks. "Now let's get settled in so I can take you to where Tom is."

"You guys talking about me?" a familiar voice says. They turn around and see Saint Thomas Aquinas with his arms crossed.

"Nope. We're talking about Tom Holland, the soon to be CEO of the Holland Incorporation or whatever." Saint Christopher chuckles.

"Oh, I know him! His mother prays to me even after he graduated college." Saint Thomas Aquinas chuckles and shakes his head.

"Yeah, well he has younger siblings that are still in school." Amadis shrugs. "Anyway, we should settle in now. The quicker we settle in, the quicker we find him. I really have a feeling that he's up to something bad and if he is up to something bad, the easier it'll be for Harley's parents to fall in love and get together! It's fool-proof!"

"Okay let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? Let's get settled in." Saint Christopher says as they walk to the elevator with Saint Thomas Aquinas tagging along. They patiently wait for the elevator and quietly get inside as soon as it arrives.

"I think it's funny how the patron saint of transportation and traveling is riding an elevator when he can just teleport." Amadis says, breaking the silence.

Saint Christopher playfully glares at him and Saint Thomas Aquinas just laughs. They exit the elevator when they reach their floor and they walk to their room that Amadis reserved earlier that day.

They quickly put down their bags and Amadis checks his watch to track where Tom is.

𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐲.

Amadis hastily searches where the restaurant is and smiles to himself when he successfully finds it.

"So, where is he?" Saint Christopher asks.

"At a restaurant nearby." Amadis says and shows the two saints the location. The two saints gasp and happily cheer. "What?" Amadis asks.

"We know that restaurant! Patron saints of the Culinary Arts own that." Saint Thomas Aquinas says happily. "Let's go because I'm hungry and I want decent seats."

"Same here." Saint Christopher says.

"Let's go!" Amadis chuckles. Saint Thomas Aquinas and Amadis quickly hold on to Saint Christopher to teleport to the said restaurant. They arrive at the alley next to the restaurant and they quickly enter the restaurant. The hostess shows them their table which is right next to Tom's table.

"Wow. God's good." Saint Christopher mutters as the other two agree.

"So you lied and told Y/N that you were here for work? You didn't tell her you that it was a short vacation?" Brad asks. The two saints and the angel subtly eavesdrop in the conversation. They turn out to be really good at acting.

"Nope." Tom says, popping the 'p'. "I feel like we should have time apart for a while, you know? I'm sure she needs it too after all that planning with Saoirse. She ranted to me the other day about Saoirse being so bossy and I kind of agree. Like, it's our wedding. Why does Saoirse have to meddle with everything?"

"Maybe it was a second opinion thing." Brad shrugs.

"Nah, I doubt it." Tom shakes his head. "I still can't believe we hooked up with her before."

"Yeah, thank God we got out of that situation." Brad laughs.

"I know right! I also want to thank Y/N for coming in my life the very next day after that." Tom chuckles. "Anyway, let's go to that new club later. The owner invited me when he heard I was in the country."

Brad shrugs, "Sure! I miss drinking, man. Holy shit."

"You're welcome." Tom chuckles.

Amadis, Saint Christopher, and Saint Thomas Aquinas look at each other as if saying that they'll go to the club too.

They leave the restaurant a little while after Tom and Brad left so that it's not obvious that they're following him. They arrive at the bar and they're surprised to see a lot of people. After all, there are no bars or clubs in heaven. They only have a grand hall where birthday celebrations happen.

"So, uh, do we split up?" Saint Christopher asks.

"What??" Amadis shouts over the music. "I can't hear you!"

"AYE AYE CAPTAIN!!" Saint Thomas Aquinas laughs.

"La la lap stain?? That makes no sense!" Amadis says.

"I SAID— DO WE SPLIT UP??" Saint Christopher shouts over the music.

"OH." Amadis shouts. "NO, WE SHOULDN'T. WE SHOULD STICK TOGETHER AND KEEP AN EYE ON HIM. IF WE CANT FIND HIM, MY WATCH WILL NOTIFY ME."

"OKAY." Saint Christopher yells. All three of them order a drink as they scan the whole place. They see Brad dancing really close to a girl. They scrunch their face in disgust and look the other way.

'So this is how people dance on Earth. Very different from the dance in heaven, I see.' Amadis thinks to himself.

Saint Thomas Aquinas leans in to Amadis' right ear and says, "Hey, I can't find the guy. I think he left."

Upon hearing this, Amadis looks around again only to realize that Saint Thomas Aquinas is right. Amadis quickly looks at his watch and the two saints look over his shoulders to see what it says.

"Oh my— This makes me want to say a darn curse word." Saint Christopher shakes his head. "You know, I was kind of rooting for him. I'm disappointed."

"I saw it coming." Saint Thomas Aquinas says. "He's a guy after all."

"Thomas, he's the guy we were talking about when you saw us." Saint Christopher says.

"The 'Tom' guy?"

"Yup."

"What about him?" Saint Thomas Aquinas asks.

Amadis tells the whole story to Saint Thomas Aquinas and at the end he gasps and looks at Saint Christopher, "This makes me want to say a curse word too."

"Exactly! But that's how Y/N and Harrison will get back together so I guess it's kind of good, right?" Saint Christopher says.

"I guess, but I thought he wouldn't do something like that, you know?" Amadis sighs as he looks at his watch once more.

"Let's go Amadis. I don't like the energy here." Saint Thomas Aquinas says as he leaves with Saint Christopher.

𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥.

* * * *

Jaeden Martell as Saint Christopher

Aidan Gallagher as Saint Thomas Aquinas

𝐇𝐀𝐙 𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @abrielleholland @silencetheslaves @imeanlifesabitshit @joyleenl @hjoficrecs @myblueleatherbag @poguesholland @harryismysunflower @justanothermarvelmaniac @lonikje @lizzyosterfield @itstaskeen @ilarbu

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell @justasmisunderstoodasloki @rubberducky-jrr @petersholland @osterfieldnholland @miraclesoflove @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @perspectiveparker @parker-potters @itstaskeen @call-me-baby-gir1 @the-panwitch @iamaunicorn4704 @chloecreatesfictions @holland-styles

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield fanfiction #harrison osterfield fanfic #harrison osterfield fic #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x y/n #haz osterfield #haz osterfield fanfiction #haz osterfield fanfic #haz osterfield fic #haz osterfield x reader #haz osterfield x y/n #in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh

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evening-starlight · 3 years

Text

Chances {Chapter Twenty-Four}

Final Chapter babes

Wtf do I write now?

Master List

Fin

Word Count: 1659

I met him on a hot and sunny day in Lower Los Angeles, six months after I broke up with the man who showed me what love really was. I was on the phone with Robbie, walking down the street with coffee in one hand and eyes on the ground.

"Robbie, I'm telling you, Thor and Loki are totally fine," I say with a heavy sigh. "They're animals, and they get along just fine. So go have fun with your family."

"Let me talk to them. You're with them, right?" Robbie asks in a slight panic after seeing a cat that looked like his across the country in Maine. Naomi and Robbie's family got together for a family reunion after getting engaged a month ago up at Robbie's grandfather's property in Maine.

After releasing our second album and a quick third album by my own design, the band took a break. Heather is backpacking across Canada while Robbie and Naomi are on the east coast. I stayed stationed in LA, taking care of the couple's pets.

"Robbie, I'm getting coffee. They are totally fine." I hear Naomi nagging him on the other end. "I love you, but you're a helicopter parent." He sighs and hangs up with a quick goodbye. I almost have my phone in my back pocket before it rings again.

Guilt and anxiety settle deep in my stomach like a boulder as I read the name over and over again. I go to decline it, only to have my shoulder bumped, causing my phone to fall onto the pavement. I bend down to pick it up at the same time the stranger does. "Bloody hell, I'm so sorry, ma'am." I freeze with my hand just above the phone at the voice. It couldn't be him. We haven't seen each other since the breakup.

He picks up my phone, glancing over the screen to assesses the damage. He pauses and looks from the phone to me. "Stella?"

"Hi Tom," I say, offering a small smile. He laughs and hands me my phone before offering me a hand to help me up.

"I didn't recognize you. You're blonde," Tom's voice is light and cheerful as he points out that my long black hair is now short and blonde. "And you're wearing a bloody dress." I laugh with a nod, tucking my hair behind my ear. "It's been a long six months, hasn't it?" I nod again, looking over Tom's face. He hasn't changed since the last time I saw those beautiful blue eyes. They shine the same way they did when I first met him.

"It's good to see you," I mention after a few seconds of silence. "You look great."

"Speak for yourself. You're glowing, Stella." I laugh. "I was actually calling because I've been thinking about you as of late, and I wanted to see if you'd be up to talking?" Tom shuffles on his feet, nervous about my answer.

"I'd like that very much, Tom." His smile lights up his entire face. "I know a park just around the corner we could sit at and talk." Tom nods and follows my lead to the park I was already making my way to.

We talk on my favorite bench about all the little things that have gone on in our lives. Tom talks about finishing his new show down in Atlanta, about his reading list, and about all the traveling he's been doing since we've been apart.

I tell him about Robbie and Naomi's engagement, about them naming their animals Thor and Loki - which he found hilarious - and I tell him about the new wardrobe change courtesy of Heather.

"I heard your songs," Tom mentions while I take a sip of coffee. "They're outstanding. Not that I thought they wouldn't be," He defends. "You're really good at what you do, Stella." I blush and look away from Tom. "I also heard the second album." My attention snaps back up to him from my coffee cup while I cover my mouth.

"I'm so sorry. I was going to ask your manager for permission to add those voice memos, but production went faster than I expected, and suddenly it was out." Tom laughs and sets a hand on my knee, my skin immediately erupting in a fire.

"I'm okay with it. It was nice to relive those days with you. I didn't know you recorded so much, however." I chuckle with a shrug. Our eyes meet, and I can't pull myself to break the contact first. "I've missed you terribly, Stella," Tom admits.

"I've missed you too," I say. "And what I did, I wouldn't be upset if you never forgave me. I have no excuse for why I did it. PTSD can really fuck up your perception of life." Tom nods as he runs his thumb in circles on my leg. "I really did love you. I still do, if we're totally honest. I'm still so ashamed."

"I understand, and I forgive you," Tom says, scooting closer until our hips touch on the bench. "Jared came by two weeks after it happened and told me everything. I needed some space to heal, but I've never missed someone as much as I have you in these few months."

"Jared told me he told you. He talked to me, and I finally got the closure I've been trying to find. He hasn't been in my life since it happened. It's... weird. I don't have to look over my shoulder every day." Tom smiles and squeezes my leg.

"I'm glad, you deserve that." Tom leans closer, resting his forehead on mine. "I've missed you so bloody much. I felt like I was dying every time I had a second alone. I love you so much, and I would love to start over again if you'll have me."

Any coherent train of thought left the station the minute Tom's skin met mine. I felt like I could finally breathe again. All the weight and stress I felt lifts off my shoulders. I felt as light as a feather for the first time in six months. I could get used to this feeling.

I lean in to connect our lips, which Tom happily repays with a hand on the back of my head. After a second, I pull away to look Tom in the eyes. His are still shut as a smile dances across his lips. "I will always have you, Tom," I say as his eyes meet mine. "Always."

After intense couple's therapy for a month, Tom and I made it official again. We still have things to work on, but we have healthy coping mechanisms now. Tom is the best thing I ever took a chance on, and I will do whatever work it takes to make this a lifetime commitment.

I saw Jared for the first time two weeks after Tom, and I made it official. He was on a date in the same restaurant Tom and I were on a date in. It wasn't awkward or scary. We made eye contact, smiled, and let it be. I haven't seen him since. A part of me wants him to go through hell the way I did, the way he did to me. But a bigger part wants him to be happy, the part that will always love him. He was my first love, as toxic and abusive as our relationship was. It was love.

Robbie had me as his best man at his wedding; Heather was Naomi's maid of honor. Tom was my plus one and at the reception, asked me to move in with him. We moved everything out the following week.

We still have dance-offs, singing competitions, and trips to the beach. Tom taught me the violin, and I taught him the art of relaxing for more than an hour. We sit and read together on lazy days, and on rainy days we dance in it.

Bobby came into our lives the day after I told Tom I wanted a dog. A beautiful chocolate brown Cocker Spaniel who I can honestly say I love more than Tom most days. I'm sure Tom feels the same.

The band and I have weekends together, going to clubs and doing normal young adult things. Heather found a partner when she was in Canada who now lives in LA with her. They're the cutest couple I've seen in my life, including Tom and me. We're all now a happily taken band.

I understand my cheating was shallow, especially when you use the lens of sex insecurities. But it was so much more than that. Jared had a hold on me, and I was weak around him. He was the only person I had for so long, so when I was scared, insecure, and frustrated, he was the first person my brain told me to go to. I was a child when I met him, and I'm still working on that tangled mess he made inside of me. I genuinely wish him the best, but I don't want him in my life.

Now that we're nearing the end of the book, I'm sure you're all wondering why it's called Chances. It's simple, really. If I never took the chance to start my band, I would never be where I am today. If Tom hadn't given me a second chance, I wouldn't be sitting in bed, with him snoring next to me, feeling like I finally belonged in my own story.

As horrible as my story started, I wouldn't change it if it meant I couldn't end up back here, right now. With the love of my life next to me and my dog resting his head on Tom's chest. Where my band is going on a world tour in 2022.

So that's it. That's Stella Thompson's fucked up mess of a life.

By the way, Tom snores really fucking loud.

Taglist: @queenofallhobos

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #i got 99 problems and tom hiddleston could fix everyone of them #Jared Leto imagine #jared leto #jared leto fanfic #jared leto fanfiction #love #romance #fiction #fanfic #fanfiction #chances #og #oc #Original content #original character

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sixtyeightdays · 4 years

Text

Best Friends

Part 1 (here) • Part 2

Marinette and Adrien were childhood friends.

No scratch that. They were childhood best friends.

The kind of best friends who insulted each other at every chance they got, the kind of best friends who barged into the other's house and called their parents 'Mom' and 'Dad', the kind of best friends who stole clothes from each other whenever they could, and the kind of best friends who got matching t-shirts.

How did they meet, you may ask?

Gabriel Agreste was moody. He was starting his own business at the age of 24, but so far, there were next to no customers. His wife, Emilie, supported him fully and commissioned pieces from him, but it wasn't the same.

He needed coffee.

He walked around Paris, stopping by the nearest café, which was called Tom and Sabine's Patisserie (a/n: not sure if thats accurate).

He stepped into the quaint store and could immediately smell the rich chocolatey scent of cocoa, as well as fresh baked pastries and cookies.

Gabriel's mouth watered and he made his way over to the counter, when he realised his wife was sitting at the counter, chatting with a large man in an apron holding a rolling pin.

Gabriel strode over to the two, before clearing his throat.

Emilie looked startled before looking towards her husband.

'Oh! Gabriel, what are you doing here?'

'I came for a coffee.' He said dryly.

The large man let out a bout of laughter before a short blue haired lady made her way over to the three, holding a cup of coffee.

The man picked the coffee out of the woman's hands, before placing it on the counter in front of Gabriel and wrapping an arm around the lady.

'I'm Sabine, and this is my husband, Tom.' She gestured towards her husband.

'This is my husband, Gabriel.' Emilie pointed towards the man in question, giving him a small poke in the ribs when he continued to regard the couple with cool indifference.

Gabriel started and reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet, when a large hand stopped him.

'It's on the house.'

Gabriel, Emilie, Tom and Sabine spent the next hour chatting with each other (even if it took a while for Gabriel to loosen up around them), the shop owners occasionally having to leave to help customers.

It ended up with a customer coming in, and noting Gabriel's outfit, asked him if he designed it himself.

He had nodded and the customer smiled, before commissioning him to make the customer a new dress for an upcoming gala, and eventually led to the Agreste brand becoming famous worldwide.

Gabriel, Emilie, Sabine and Tom became extremely close friends after that, Gabriel believing that it was partially Sabine and Tom's bakery that had led to his big break.

Once Gabriel had made enough money, he paid for the bakery to move somewhere nearer to the new Agreste manor, in a bigger place, and paid for an apartment to be on top of the bakery, for convenience.

The two had protested against Gabriel spending money on them, but he persisted and now Agreste brand were the main sponsors of the bakery, paying for bakery rent and ingredients, while Sabine and Tom paid for their apartment rent.

When Emilie had Adrien, and Sabine had Marinette, the two had shared a hospital room after the birth was given. Adrien was a day older than Marinette and the new mothers promised to let their kids play together often.

When Marinette and Adrien were 5, they met at the bakery, coincidentally. Adrien had wandered up the steps to Marinette, who was struggling to make her way downstairs to her parents.

Their parents panicked when they couldn't find their kids, but relaxed when they found the two kids sleeping on the couch in the apartment. How they got there no one knew.

When Adrien turned 9, Emilie had disappeared. Dead, in a coma, travelling-- no one knew where she had gone. Adrien was heartbroken and Marinette was there to comfort him.

During this time, Gabriel had started falling into what he was before meeting Emilie-- cold, indifferent and uncaring. Adrien suffered the brunt of his father's sudden coldness, but took it all in stride with the support of Marinette, who had yelled at the elder Agreste, telling him to treat his son better.

Gabriel, who wouldn't admit it but was slightly scared of the bluenette, remained indifferent to everyone other than Sabine, Tom, Marinette and Adrien.

Marinette and Adrien had become closer than ever, and it was rare to see them apart anymore, they were almost joined at the hip.

Most of their clothes were idiotic and funny, most made by Marinette, who had been taught by Gabriel how to design and make clothes when she was 10.

(Their favorites were Marinette in a red t shirt with the words 'Mari Memes' and Adrien in a black one with 'Adrien Puns'.)

When the two were 10, they were enrolled in the nearby school, Francois Dupont, and spent their whole time there together, becoming close friends with Alix, Kim and Nino, who had a chemistry like Adrien and Marinette.

The two had met Chloe Bourgeois, the Mayor's daughter, when they were following Gabriel to a meeting with the mayor.

The three had hit it off, bonding over their families (Audrey and Andre had coincidentally met at the bakery too, but they just weren't as close.) And the three became friends.

Chloe had joined Francois Dupont a few weeks after Marinette and Adrien, and the three were good friends at school, although Chloe had her own best friend, a girl named Sabrina.

Sabine and Tom had taken to calling the duo Madri (May-dree), a combination of both Adrien and Marinette, after they got lazy to call both Adrien and Marinette.

The two had made a joint Twitter account when they were 12, called @/MadrisCenter and became famous and verified within a year for their 'sheer funny-ness and badass-ery'.

No one knew who the two were other than the two themselves.

It was then when the two started communicating through their expressions, just because they knew each other extremely well.

When Mari and Adrien were 13, Gabriel had pulled Adrien out of school to be homeschooled by his new assistant, Nathalie Sancouer.

Marinette and Adrien weren't able to see each other as often, since they didn't have school together anymore, Adrien started to model his father's designs and Mari making her own design website and persona, MDC.

Instead of seeing each other everyday, they had started seeing each other twice a week. When Adrien had left, Marinette had withdrawn into her shell, becoming the shy and quiet student.

When Adrien had left, Chloe helped Marinette get through everything and eventually Marinette was back to the outspoken meme making girl, although she only did that around her close friends.

When they were 14 and a new class was starting, with Alix, Kim, Nino, Chloe, Sabrina and Marinette together, they decided to split up into different personalities and keep it that way until Adrien came back.

Chloe had adopted a 'Queen Bitch' attitude, Sabrina a meek servant one, Alix and Kim playful rivals, Nino the shy DJ and Marinette the shy quiet girl.

Conveniently for them, their previous teacher had left and was replaced with a new teacher named Mlle. Bustier.

A year later and no one suspected the six having any close relationships, especially since Chloe had taken to teasing Marinette.

But when they were 15, Chloe had texted them all.

'Adrien's coming back!'

Everyone was excited for the model's return, even if Marinette still saw him every other day.

The day passed and Adrien didn't show up, much to the group's disappointment. They couldn't wait to let go and be themselves again.

The day after that, Adrien had shown up in the middle of roll call, and the group couldn't contain themselves and pounced on the blonde, Marinette jumping on his shoulders as she always did.

Alya, who thought of herself as Marinette's 'bestie', jumped and glared at the boy.

Marinette knew Alya took people not telling her things as an insult and it annoyed the bluenette because she thought that everyone was entitled to their own secrets.

Mlle. Bustier was shocked at the normally quiet students in loud laughter playfully hanging out together, with Chloe and Marinette getting along, the latter riding Adrien's shoulders.

Once they got settled, the seven explained themselves to the class, and Alya sulked in her seat when Marinette moved to the back to sit with Adrien.

Part 2 will be when the two get their miraculouses and will be up sometime tomorrow probably

this isnt the best but i had this idea in class and it isnt original but oh well

also can someone suggest a better title

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neptunesnxpple · 4 years

Text

Adopted by the League Part 7 (Shigaraki x male!reader)

****Minors Do Not Interact****

Summary of the Series: You move to a new country- only to find out the apartment you moved into is the home base of a league you don’t even know about! This is sort of a found family situation where reader takes care the league.

Warnings/Tags for this Part: reader is a man or masc identifying, new years celebrations, alcohol, reader and shigaraki get extremely drunk, kissing, going to bed together

Part 1 ;; Part 2 ;; Part 3 ;; Part 4 ;; Part 5 ;; Part 6 ;; Part 7

New years eves you were passing out the glasses, mugs, and any other drinking apparatus you had stored away in the kitchen. You really hadn’t planned to have this many people over at any given time, but well, that hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. A month and a half ago you moved to Japan, got a small one bedroom apartment in a lower income area, and started work at a local market before being transferred to their café department. Unfortunately, your apartment wasn’t really that vacant- at least not after the first few days. Then, part of a league moved in. Without anywhere else to go, you didn’t feel all that great about kicking out six or so people even though technically the apartment was in your name. Now you shared the bathroom with a minimum of six other on any given day, kitchen space, living room, at least your bedroom was limited to one other person- the leader of the league, Shigaraki.

Now you weren’t always the drinking type, usually sparingly if so, a glass here a glass there, but this was new years eve and you had a couple of conversation topics you wanted to get off your chest so to speak. You had already pre-gamed at a bar after work, gotten a drink or two, before heading back home with the left-over pastries- the café was closed on New Years Day and they weren’t a fan of keeping food around past the 24 hour mark. It was only two hours until the count down, you had laid out the pastry spread, Toga and Twice had worked together to pick up a couple of osechi-ryori for the group, Compress, Magne, and Spinner had put up decorations, and Dabi and Shigaraki were in charge of the alcohol, although you had a hard time imagining them working together. Shigaraki had gotten the others to bring the television out of the bedroom and into the living room where you could watch some kind of count down leading to a fireworks display. You hummed anxiously, finger tapping the edge of your glass and foot jittering. Shigaraki made his way over, pushing his hood down and taking your glass, drinking what was left in it, before capping it off again.

“What’s got you so amped up?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Why do you ask?” you accepted the glass, bringing it to your lips and not even pretending to look his way. You stared blankly at the tv screen,

“You’re standing out here in the kitchen while everyone else is in the living room, and I’ve seen how many glasses you’ve downed so far. I’m pretty sure your eye keeps twitching, not like I’m looking or anything,” he muttered the second part of that, now fixated on his own mug. You looked over from where you were leaning. He looked soft. The front part of his hair was tied back, and you knew it wasn’t from his own doing. But it looked nice all the same. Seeing that much of his face. The skin around his neck wasn’t as crusted or peeling like it had been. There were still nicks, the excessive scratching and picking a hard habit to break, but it was nice to see some change.

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” you answered shortly, careful to not appear curt, “I’m glad you all were able to take off,” you said, changing the subject and watching the slight tense in his shoulders at the mention of work. Now it was his turn to feel uncomfortable. He wrinkled his lips, pressing them together for a moment,

“Yeah, we had some plans but decided to hold off on them. At least until after the holidays.”

“I didn’t take you for the celebratory type.”

“I- We wanted your first New Years in Japan to be with friends. As a thank you, for letting us all stay with you,” he blurted out, rushing through the words. You could tell the wine was working, his face was flush and he wouldn’t normally be so transparent about these types of these.

“You don’t have to be so worried about this kind of thing, I would have been fine,” you moved a hand to your cheek, rubbing it as if to make sure this moment was real enough. “Thank you, though.” You let the sound of friends talking and the news caster reporting take over for the time being. Shigaraki had given you a great transition to something you had wanted to bring up. You heart began to beat harder in your chest, swallowing dryly, “there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. Well, a couple of things. I’ve got a lot of things to talk to you about tonight, but I’m not really sure which I want to do first, they’re not exactly… easy to talk about,” you turned fully to face him, both hands on the stem of your glass and nervously tracing it. You glanced up at him briefly, enough to catch the panic on his face. “N-nothing too bad. Well, one of them isn’t that good objectively, but the other is, or could be good,” you rattled on, sensing that this was actually making him more nervy or at least as uncomfortable as you were. You had a feeling you were losing him if you didn’t pick up the pace.

“I’m, I,” you stuttered, stepping back for a moment to take a deep breath, “I really like all of you, and this past month and a half have been some of the best times of my life already, but, it’s really cramped in here. It’s kind of hard getting ready for work when there’s people sleeping all over the living room, and the bathroom is really tough to figure out. I bring a spare travel case with a tooth brush and tooth paste just in case I can’t get in before work. I don’t want to rush you all out, but I think I could use a bit of personal space from time to time. We could still hang out of course! I wouldn’t mind sleepovers every now and then. Have you had any luck, searching for a new base?” you all but pleaded, tongue feeling thick and heavy. You took a moment between heavy breaths to see how Shigaraki was taking it, worry clear in your brow. The answer was not well. His lips turned up into what could best be called a grimace, taking a half empty bottle of booze and stalking off towards the a particularly dark corner of the room, barking at Spinner to hop off the bean bag chair and flopping in it, loose strands of hair falling in his face. Your hands continued to shake, bringing you to the realization that they were shaking in the first place. You leaned back against the counter, shock and horror filling every muscle and bone in your body. You had just ruined everything. You set your glass down, grabbing the bottle of wine you had been sipping out of and deciding to make the process much quicker. The next thing you knew, a familiar shadow drew near,

“Rough night?” Dabi asked, pointing to the bottle. Your hand squeezed the neck of it tighter, shrugging,

“I’m not sharing,” you joked, voice falling flat,

“Relax, I don’t drink wine. Reminds me of people I’d rather not think about. So, what’d you say to get him so riled up? Did you tell him you’d have to reschedule the wedding? You know he’d prefer something in the fall.”

“Shut up,” you snorted, smiling and giving him a shove.

“See? That wasn’t so hard was it? Now you’ve got me in the perfect spot between tipsy and drunk, which means if you want to spill your guts about anything without anyone else knowing, nows your chance,” he offered, picking through the assorted pastries until he came across a chocolate stuffed croissant.

“I think I said something stupid. Something that messed everything up,” you sighed heavily, that weight being applied directly to your shoulders.

“I’m sure it couldn’t be that bad.”

“I asked him when you guys were thinking of moving out,” you forced out, feeling ashamed immediately, “I didn’t even mean it that way, it’s just…”

“Relax. I know we’re a lot to handle, I mean Spinner just learned to pick up after his sheds not too long ago, there’s no way you should be expected to deal with seven other peoples craziness on top of your own.”

You perked up a little, setting the bottle back on the countertop.

“I mean, you didn’t really think it was customary to let strangers live with you while they apartment searched, right?” Dabi said between bites,

“Well, at first I did,” you admitted sheepishly,

“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about. Chances are his panties are just in a bunch because he thinks you’re kicking him out. For good.”

You tilted your head in confusion,

“I sort of am though.”

“No, I mean like from your life. He pissy because he thinks you’re trying to push him out, and he doesn’t want to admit that he’s taken too long to do anything about it, unless there’s something you’re keeping from us?”

“Taken to long to do anything?” You paled, nausea coming back to you.

“Yeah, he’s been trying to make a move since you let us move in here but has been too chicken shit to do anything. It’s embarrassing, really.”

You looked over past Dabi, seeing a sulking Shigaraki that looked like he was locked in a conversation with Toga, Twice, Spinner, and Magne that he’d prefer not to be in.

“Alright, advice time over, you don’t have to leave but don’t talk to me,” Dabi shooed you away, making his way down the buffet line. You stuck around in the corner for some time longer, lost in thought as you planned your next move. There was an hour left for midnight, more than enough time for you to work up some courage and practice what you wanted to say.

Thirty minutes remained. You were back to your glass mode, keeping the liquid confidence going as your body felt warm, light, like you were made of all things sparkly just like the liquid in your hand. You were aware that you were a bit clumsier, bumping into the corner of the couch and taking a second to balance yourself out, slowly, slowly inching your way closer to Shigaraki. The energy had simmered out since an hour and a half ago, almost everyone was trapped in their own conversations. You guest starred in a few on your way over, buying time but also enjoying yourself. You had really grown quite fond of everyone in such a short amount of time. Ten minutes to go and you had only a couple more feet to go, your speed dramatically reduced, both anticipating and dreading the eventual meet up. Shigaraki was still in the bean bag chair, and while you made a point not to check out the situation, you were sure he was just as grumpy as before. Five minutes left and you arrived, drunk, and feeling absolutely wiggly. You felt like a worm on the string being pulled around, and you wouldn’t lie, you could feel the smile pull on the corners of your lips. You knew something he didn’t know that you knew. You went to sit in the space next to him, miscalculating and ending up partially in his lap, throwing and arm around his shoulder and sipping your drink, kicking your feet a little. This was fun. It pleased you even more when Shigaraki didn’t try to push you off. At least not right away.

“What are you doing?”

“Hanging out. What are you doing?” you asked, a knowing grin rising to your face. He raised an eyebrow, eyes fixed to you. You could feel it, his breath was a little more labored, he was just as drunk as you.

“Hanging out.” He repeated. He adjusted, moving an arm behind you, “I don’t want my drink to spill,” he explained. You looked at the countdown on the screen. Two minutes.

“I know something you don’t know,” you started, mischevious glint in your eye. You leaned toward Shigaraki, speaking just to him, “Something you don’t know that I know. I found something out.” You whispered, inching closer. Your hand brushed the back of his neck, feeling how warm it was and the sweat that beaded along the jackets’ edge.

“Oh? And what did you find out?” he lowered his drink, resting his free hand on one of your calves,

“Something about you. Something fun,” you did the same, setting down the glass and poking his chest with your fingers. You twirled the drawstring of his hoodie. One minute left. You felt his breathing grow ragged, face flushed and not looking away. You watched the timer on the tv.

“Something fun…” he repeated, trying to coax you along after some time. You nodded, resting your cheek on his shoulder and talking quieter now,

“Something we have in common,” your eyes, half lidded and having trouble keeping them open, stayed glued to the clock. Sitting down had caused a wave of wooziness to wash over you, enjoying the way the room spun slowly. You felt his arm wrap around tighter, finally it was time. You sat upright, staring with wide, wide eyes as you heard your friends chant along.

Ten

Nine

Eight

Seven

Six

Five

Four

Three

Two

One!

You turned to Shigaraki, the cheerful shouts of your friends as they celebrated became background noise. You bravely took the leap forward, pressing your lips to Shigarakis’, feeling both of your bodies tense before he tightened his grip even more, both arms around you now and pulling you closer. You both let out a breath sigh of relief, foreheads touching,

“I found out that you like me. I mean, like like me,” you teased, eyes closed. Eyes closed felt nice. You felt yourself melt into Shigaraki, feeling more like liquid and less like solid mass. Shigaraki adjusted underneath of you, hand rubbing your back and pressing his lips to the top of your head. Your hands kept busy with his hoodie, twirling the draw strings and feeling the soft fabric, “which means you have to carry me to bed,” you joked, doubting that someone as scrawny as him could carry you too far. Or at all.

“Alright,” Shigaraki slipped on arm under your leg, the other remaining wrapped around your back. He shifted in the overly amenable bean bag chair, pressing his feet firmly pressed to the ground, and putting as much force into standing as possible. He shot up, swaying clumsily with you in his arms. Your eyes snapped open, throwing your arms around his neck and holding on tight. Shigaraki continued to sway until his back was propped up against the wall. He adjusting you more, tossing you up higher on his shoulder for better grip and with a lot of swaying and stumbling from side to side, he got you in your shared bedroom, dropping you on the bed and flopping down on the blanket nest beside you. You rolled on your side to face him, pulling on of the warmer blankets around you and eyes drooping shut. “I thought about what you said.”

“Hn?” you sleepily responded, shuffling closer to him.

“I was talking with some of the league, and we agreed we need a bigger apartment. You can have your own room, if you want,” Shigaraki said softly.

“My own room,” you repeated, smile creeping onto your face, “with you all. In a bigger apartment.” That sounded nice. You’d figure out logistics later, but for now you’d enjoy the idea, the fantasy, of living somewhere spacious enough for all of you.

You wouldn’t mind sharing a room with Shigaraki, wherever that room might be.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x m!reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shimura tenko x reader #shigaraki tomura #bnha x reader #mha x reader #requests are open for headcanons

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gaylotusthatexists · 5 years

Text

By The Sea

Virgil's life may be going downhill, but at least he still has his island and he still has the sea. However, when he meets a certain writer staying in the hotel he works at, it appears that something more important has arrived.

Roman's life seems to be going great, but he knows that soon all that may change. He has travelled to this island, along with this two best friends, to focus on his work, but when he meets a certain guy that he's sure he recognises, how can he focus on anything else?

And with only twelve days on the island together, will they be able to make it work?

Pairings: Prinxiety, Logicality, Remile

Word Count: 24160

This was written for the @ts-storytime, and boi did it take a while so I hope that y'all enjoy this. The full fic has been posted onto my ao3 here. You can read the first chapter below but I’m not planning on posting the rest on Tumblr, unless any of y’all really want me too.

@justisaisfine made some beautiful pieces of artwork for this fic which you can find here, seriously guys go follow them, their art is amazing.

As far as I'm aware, there isn't anything in this that would be particularly triggering, but if y'all spot anything please let me know and I'll put up a warning. At the very worst there is some negative thinking and crying, but it's mostly fluff honestly. It also contains Deceit, who could be viewed as sympathetic or morally-grey, honestly idk.

There are some bits that are in Spanish and I would like to apologise in advance for the terrible Spanish, I used Google Translate which I don't really trust but I also don't speak Spanish so y'know. If any of y'all are Spanish-speaking and know a better translation, please let me know, I'd really appreciate it.

Anyway, I think that's all I have to say? Hope y'all enjoy it! I certainly enjoyed writing it, haha

DAY ONE

00:09

The sea shimmered in the moonlight, thousands of stars reflecting off its gentle waves. Pulling his hoodie tighter around his body, the boy exhaled. This was his home, his true home - the sky and the ocean and the island. Sat here by the sea, he could feel the wind brushing past his cheeks and the water washing over his feet. He could have stayed there, in that single moment, forever and ever, and he'd never grow tired of the feeling.

But it was late and he had to get back to the apartment. He couldn't stay out here all night, not when he had to be up so early for work in the morning. Sure, the chances of him actually sleeping were slim, but it was better resting inside that out. And he needed rest to be ready for tomorrow.

Glancing up to the sky for one last look before returning to reality, he saw a flashing light moving across the black. All he could do was sigh. That would be a plane, filled with visitors. People who come to the island to catch sun or whatever they do. People who Virgil would have to deal with for a couple weeks before they exit stage left. People who probably won't even notice that Virgil had a life of his own.

But hey, they're also the people who pay the bills, so could Virgil really complain?

This was his life. He had to deal with idiots like that for a while, but at least he had this. He had his island, and he had the sea.

Virgil stood up and started the journey into his future.

6:00

A blaring alarm jolted Roman out of bed and, for a moment, all he wanted in life was death - not specifically his own.

"Who the hell set an alarm?" he groaned, sitting up and rubbing his forehead. The horrendous sound still rung out through the room, hammering into his skull, until it was finally cut off and Roman was able to breath.

"That would be me," Logan said, casually. He was already out of bed and heading into the bathroom. "We've got to get on if we want to get breakfast."

Roman sighed, closing his eyes again. "Logan. We're on holiday. We're supposed to be relaxing. Not getting up at six am."

Logan poked his head out the door. "The restaurant opens at seven, Roman."

"That doesn't mean we have to be there at seven," Roman argued, lying back down and pulling the sheets over his head.

"If we get there first, we're more likely to receive better food, and as you know, breakfast is the most-"

"Yeah, yeah, most important meal, you say this every day," Roman said. "Can't we just, like, grab a quick brunch later on?"

Logan sighed. "No, Roman. That is not how any of this works." He slammed the door shut.

A few moments, maybe minutes, later, Roman peeked out from under the blankets. "Pat?" he whispered.

No response. Patton must have still been asleep. Of course Patton would be the one who got to sleep through the alarm and the argument.

Roman turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. It seemed as though he wouldn't be getting back to sleep anytime soon. All whilst Patton was laid there still sound asleep. That was so, so unfair.

He couldn't really do anything, though. Patton has always been a heavy sleeper, unlike Roman. And he supposed that Logan had a point - getting up early would certainly help with this work, since they hadn't just come here for a vacation. Whilst the promise of sun had been one of the deciding factors, the actual reason that the three boys had travelled to the island was to get away from city life and focus on their work - Logan was studying some science mumbo-jumbo that Roman didn't understand, Patton was hoping to work on his photography, and Roman needed to get this goddamn novel finished. A quiet, whilst kind of touristy, place like that seemed like the best place for them to focus, and in the case of the other two actually added to their work.

That didn't mean Roman was okay with getting up so early, though. Not after he spent God-knows-how-long travelling and then only getting around three hours of sleep. Maybe the next day it would've been fine, but he seriously doubted he would be able to focus at all today.

There was no harm in trying, though. If all else failed, he could always take a nap later on. But for now, he had to focus on his plan. He was in for the adventure of a lifetime, and he wasn't going to waste it.

8:09

Virgil stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed his coffee mug, chugging the entire thing in one go. This morning he would be working on pure caffeine and spite, which perhaps wasn't the best idea when he was supposed to look happy for the 'guests', but if it got him through the day then so be it. Upon realising that his cup was empty, he grabbed the one next to it, not bothering to check who's it was, and chugged that too.

"Remy isn't going to appreciate you drinking his coffee," one of Virgil's roommates said, from the other side of the kitchen.

Virgil put the cup back down and looked over at Emile, who was sat crosslegged on top of the counter sipping his cup of hot chocolate. "What a shame." He began pouring out another cup of coffee.

"Are you doing okay, buddy?" Emile asked, jumping down from the counter and stepping towards him. "'Cause, uh, that's an awful lot of coffee."

"If I don't drink this, I'll end up punching a dude, and then I'll lose my job again. Which I can't afford to do."

Before Virgil could drink a third cup, Emile gently pulled it out of his hand. "Virgil, you're going to end up killing yourself."

"Oh no," Virgil said in monotone, trying to get his coffee back but being unable too as Emile held it out of his reach.

A third person came strutting into the room and snatched the coffee out Emile's hand. "Was Virgil trying to steal my coffee again?" he asked.

Emile smirked. "He did steal your coffee. And then made another one."

Remy faked annoyance. "How dare he."

Virgil just sighed.

"Well," Emile said, "I should get off. I've got a client at ten."

Remy smiled and planted a small kiss on Emile's forehead. "Good luck, Em."

"Ew," Virgil said.

"This is our apartment, I'm allowed to kiss my boyfriend," Remy said, as Emile moved away towards the front door.

"I also live here," Virgil reminded him.

"Only because your poor," Remy countered.

"I make more than you."

"And Emile makes more than both of us combined."

Virgil considered that for a moment. "I mean, yeah, I guess."

"When you get yourself a rich significant other, then you can move out and you won't have to watch us be gay." Before Virgil could reply, Remy left the kitchen.

Shaking his head but allowing a small smile to creep out, Virgil grabbed his backpack and left the apartment.

9:32

"Why are we up so early?" Patton moaned, as the three of them walked out of the hotel.

"We've gone over this, Patton," Logan said. "We have to make the most of our time here."

"We have almost two weeks, Logan, surely we can spare a day to rest," Patton argued.

"You're not allowed to complain," Roman chimed in. "Since, y'know, you got an extra hour of sleep."

"Speaking of," Logan continued, "I set an alarm for a reason. It would be great if, in the future, you both got up at the designated time."

Patton sighed. "Alright, Logan."

Logan smiled. "Thank you for understanding, Patton."

9:35

Virgil glanced at a group of three boys making their way out of the hotel as he made his way in. He could tell they were new arrivals from their pale complexity - and from the fact he hadn't seen them around yet. They might have been on last nights plane. But if that were the case, why were they up so early?

Maybe they were the type to get out and do things. Which was good for Virgil, because that just meant less people to slave after. Although, they did seemed to be the loud type, judging by the fact that he could hear their conversation perfectly, which he did not care for at all. Perhaps they would be a problem later on.

Not that any of that mattered. It wasn't as if any of them would talk to him. Properly, he meant. They weren't going to walk up to him and willingly start a conversation. No one ever did. They would just get what they need off him and then leave him be.

"You're late," someone said, as soon as Virgil stepped foot into the lobby.

He sighed. "My shift doesn't even start until ten." He walked up to the counter and leant his arm on the side, looking up to the person who had spoke, the manager. He was wearing a black and yellow suit, with a waistcoat, a bowler hat and a bowtie - over the top, really, for a less-than-fancy hotel in middle of nowhere. Down one side of his face, he had a scar surrounded by burn marks, from some mysterious tragedy he refused to talk about. Virgil had met him a couple years after said tragedy, and had been somewhat-friends with him for some time. Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't still a harsh boss.

The manager - Declan - smiled. "You're meant to arrive at half nine."

"I know, I know." Virgil shrugged. "But five minutes doesn't hurt."

"Sure," Declan dragged out.

"So, what's the deal?" He leant back. "Who we got this week?"

"Not a lot of visitors," Declan admitted. "Mostly people on business."

"Cool." Virgil breathed out. "I'll go get changed."

"Why don't you ever get changed at home?" Declan wondered.

Virgil shrugged. "You have a changing room here. Might as well make use of it."

"Is it because you don't like walking here in uniform?" Declan guessed, sensing that Virgil was lying.

"You got me." Virgil smiled. "See you in twenty."

"It doesn't take that long to-"

Virgil had already left the room before he could hear Declan finish.

19:26

"Can I take your order?"

Roman looked up at the waiter and all words fled from his mind. The man was perfect. His soft, dyed purple hair swooped in front of his deep brown eyes, which were outlined by a thick layer of black eyeshadow, kind of smudged after the long day. He had dark, smooth skin, but chapped lips, and he looked like a mess, actually, but for some reason Roman was drawn to him and only him. Everything else seemed to fade away. It was just him.

Logan nudged Roman.

Roman continued staring.

The man walked away.

Roman's world came back.

"Roman?"

His head shot to the source of the voice - Patton. "Huh?"

"You alright?" Patton asked.

Roman blinked. "Uh, yeah, I'm fine, why?"

"You didn't speak when he asked for your order," Logan said.

Roman frowned. "I..."

He breathed in. He had never felt that before. Never lost control over his words.

But... maybe that wasn't bad. Maybe something great was about to happen.

He had to see that man again.

CONTINUE READING HERE

#ts-storytime 2019 submission #sanders sides #thomas sanders #prinxiety #logicality #remile #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #remy sanders #dr emile picani #deceit sanders #nate sanders #fanfiction #my fanfic #my writing

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lemonyellowlogic · 4 years

Text

the harder the rain, the sweeter the sun: chapter twenty-one

-o-

masterlist

first

-o-

chapter twenty-one: the merperson

His mind screamed at himself to swim faster, faster. He knew that they were following him, they had to. They let him go too easily. His entire family, they were all gone, taken away. They were probably going to die if he couldn’t do it. He had to save them, but how was he supposed to do it?

Faster, faster, faster! The voice in his head screamed louder, and his tail ached which each push it gave. But then, he panicked, snagging his tail on a boulder, which caught. He felt himself get pulled back and he screamed, convinced it was a human.

He twisted to get out their hold but then his fin tore, and he screamed out in pain. He tried pushing himself to swim again, but his own blood started to seep into the water and his senses became confused.

No, no! He had to keep swimming. He had to find Diego. He hadn’t seen him in years, but he knew he could help. He had to find him or he had no chance to live. Without Diego, he would die.

He cried out, his echolocation pinging off the rocks around him and echoing for miles. Last time he’d seen Diego, he lived near a river, so he just hoped that he still did.

All he had was hope, and Patton was holding onto it.

---

The group of six walked along the river still, Emile flying ahead to make sure their path was right, with Remy leading the group. Virgil and Diego tried their best to ignore Roman and Logan and tried talking about anything to drown them out, but the two kept bickering loudly.

Virgil sighed, at least they weren’t as bad as the first night, where Logan kept quietly threatening to hurt Roman if he said anything wrong. Now, three days later, he was still angry, but not furious, and he allowed his anger to be taken out in biting comments instead of death threats.

It was a start.

Roman gestured widely as he argued, “All I’m saying is that relying on the stars for directions nowadays is useless and ineffective! We have compasses now!”

Logan rolled his eyes, “Sure, but what would happen if you didn’t have a compass and became lost? You would be trapped without any idea where to go. By using the stars, you always know where to go since flukes aren’t as often made, human.”

Roman huffed, “Oh, keep arguing, Logan, it’s not like we have at least five compasses.”

Logan’s wings tensed and he unknowingly rose them as he angrily gestured, “But if we did not have them, the only thing we would have would be the stars!”

Roman rolled his eyes, waving his hand vaguely and walking ahead, leaving Logan behind, angry and annoyed.

Logan flapped his wings a few times in agitation before taking a breath, pinching his nose bridge as he walked back to the group, ignoring Roman.

For the next few hours, the two walked in almost complete silence, broken up only by quiet angry bickering with Virgil telling them to shut up from over his shoulder as he kept talking to Dee.

Eventually, Roman and Logan walked up to them, and Virgil allowed Roman to hold his shoulder as they walked, ignoring the look Logan shot at Virgil.

Emile soon landed again and led the group with his partner. The two adults had been quietly leading them all, sometimes Roman helping Remy figure out where exactly they were heading, when Diego gasped, holding his hands to his head as he turned to the river.

Remy turned towards him, their eyebrows furrowed, “You okay, Dee?”

Diego’s jaw stayed open as he listened to a sound it seemed like only he could hear, and the entire group gathered around him.

Virgil asked, “Diego? What do you hear?”

Diego looked up to the dragon, his eyes wet and glossy as his lips shook, “Patton, he’s hurt, I’ve got to go, don’t leave here!”

Diego pulled away from his parents and the teenagers encircling him and he ran into the roaring river, his clothes melting away and his legs turning into a golden fishtail as he swam quickly downstream.

Emile yelled his name down the river, but Diego was already too far away to hear.

Roman looked over to Remy, asking confused, “Wasn’t Patton that one friend he had when he was a child?”

Remy hummed in response, sitting down in an overturned look as they replied, “I think. He doesn’t talk about him much, I’ve never met the kid, but they were close. It hurt both of them when Patton left, so they hadn’t seen each other in years, but I guess that Diego heard him.”

“How?”

“Echolocation, maybe. I’m not sure, I’m not a merperson, but they can communicate through large expanses of land. Specifics don’t matter much right now, better just relax here for a bit before we’re off again.”

They looked up at the sky to see the sun about to set, and they pursued their lips, “We’re gonna camp here, it’s almost night. Emile?” They called out, asking his opinion.

Emile pursed his lips as well but nodded, “We’re waiting for Diego anyway, waste of time to not take advantage of it.” He waved his hand to the three teenagers, “Can one of you collect firewood while another starts one? The one left out will help me fish while Remy sets up the tents.”

Logan immediately huffed into the woods, and Roman began setting a place to create the fire. Virgil looked at Roman, jaw open at how fast he started, and Roman only winked in his direction, “Go fish, dragon-boy.”

He rolled his eyes, following Emile to the river’s bed and allowing magic to fill his hands, peering down and seeing fish swimming fast. This’ll be fun.

Diego beat his tail against the water, swimming as fast as he could. He hadn’t heard that sound in years, but immediately recognized it as the one Patton had taught him. Patton had always said that he’d only use it when he needed him or he was in danger, so Diego’s blood ran cold as he swam closer and closer.

His knives were still on his hips attached to his belt in their sheaths. Whenever he shifted with them on, they stayed on him, so he never worried about being without them. He might actually need to use them now, so he was glad.

Patton called out again, this one edged with more fear than before. Diego called back in a reply, letting the other boy know he was coming and he kept swimming, the gills on his sides taking in oxygen quickly.

“Diego!”

Patton yelled, panicked, having heard his response and knowing he was close. Soon, Diego came across the merperson, thrashing wildly on the silt of the river, his tail caught.

“Pat, I’m here, I’m here!”

Diego grabbed his arm to stop his thrashing, and Patton froze looking up at him, eyes red with tears unseen and mouth agape.

“Diego!” Patton tried throwing himself into Diego’s arms but failed, his tail not letting him move. Patton cried out in pain and started thrashing again, but Diego held him down, “It’s okay, calm down!”

Patton shook his head, his eyes wide with fear, “No, no, Diego! We can’t calm down! We have to swim away!”

Diego moved to pick up the rock holding Patton down, but turned, confused at his words, “What do you mean, why are you trying to get away?”

Patton sobbed, “Please, Diego, we have to go.”

“Okay, okay, Patton.” Diego raised his hands to calm him down, “Come with me then, my family is traveling away from the forest, we’re getting away from the attacks.”

Patton swallowed, pausing before asking, “Are you going to the human’s land?”

Diego winced, “We’re already there, Patton.”

The boy whimpered, but then nodding, “Okay, I trust you, Diego, I’ve missed you and I’m not letting you go so soon.”

Diego softly smiled, “I missed you too, now let me help you.”

Patton whimpered again, holding his arms tight to his chest before nodding, “Be careful.”

“I will.”

Diego swam to the silver tail’s end, and slowly lifted a large rock that had pinned the fin to the bottom of the river. Diego winced, if he hadn’t heard Patton, he probably would've had to rip out his fin, probably tearing it apart.

He shook his head, ignoring the thoughts and moving the rock off the tail, placing it about a foot away and dropping it down with a huff. The current moved it a few inches, but it hugged the sand tightly and didn’t move again.

Patton cried out as his fin touched the water, the sting overwhelming, but he sighed out, “Thank you,” Grateful he was free.

Diego reached out his hand to the sitting merperson, and he took it, wincing as he swam upright and hugged his friend tight. Diego paused for a moment before returning it, swinging him around with a shout of happiness.

“I missed you, Patton.”

Patton kissed his cheek, pulling away with a soft smile, his deep grey eyes wide and not as scared as before.

“I missed you too, Dee-dee.”

Diego snorted, beginning to swim towards where he left his family while holding Patton’s hand. Patton winced, but swam.

“It’s been a long time, Patton, where’d you go?”

“My pod had to move on, we’d stayed too long and the water was getting cold again. I tried visiting again the next year, but you were gone.”

Diego wryly grinned, “Yea, I uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck, “I ran away after another kid caught me pulling out my scales.”

Patton gasped, and he touched the silver scales dotting his cheeks with his free hand, “Why would you do that? You didn’t have any scales when I saw you last.”

“They started growing in after you left, and I had to get rid of them or else I could...ya know...be killed.”

Patton flinched, “Oh.” His voice wobbled.

Diego changed the subject, “So, Patton, why are you on the run?”

Patton hummed, and he opened his mouth to speak but only a weak croak came out. He shook his head, quietly responding, “My pod was attacked by soldiers.”

Diego froze, turning to his friend, who looked to the ground, his lip quivering.

“What?”

He sniffled, “They caught us off-guard, we-we were asleep, and they attacked. My mother made me swim away, but they...they were all captured. I-I don’t know-”

Patton hiccuped, and he began rubbing his eyes. Diego hugged him again, and Patton hugged him back, “I was trying to find you for the last day, I knew you'd make it better, and you already have.”

Diego smiled sadly, “I’m sorry that happened to you, Patton. But I promise we’ll get your family back.”

Patton looked up from underneath his eyelashes, “Really?”

Diego nodded, mouth pursed, “Another person in my group, an avian called Emile, who takes care of me and my friends, had his village destroyed a few days ago, and he only escaped with his nephew, Logan, but his parents were missing. We’re going to find them, and we’ll find your family too.”

Patton pursed his lips nervously before swallowing and nodding, “Okay, Dee. I believe you.”

“Good.” He smiled, and he continued swimming, leading his friend back to the group.

-o-

#lemon talks #lemon writes #thtrtsts #thtrtsts spoilers #thomas sanders #sander sides #ts sides #remile #dlamp #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #janus sanders #remy sanders #emile picani

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dontfeedthebabytigers · 5 years

Text

Forgiveness is a Four-Letter-Word

Crowley watches the bookshop for Aziraphale when a certain celestial being he would have rather never seen again walks into the shop.

ao3 link (x)

Crowley is bored as hell. Aziraphale is bored as hell. He, she, they are bored as hell. It's never a phrase that made any sense to Crowley. On a figurative level, he understands what it's supposed to mean— life at the moment was just as, if not more, boring than eternity. However, in a literal sense, hell is anything other than boring. Despite whatever an out looker may think when gazing upon the endless dark corridors of Hell, nothing about that place was boring. A demon can't get relaxed enough to be bored in hell, not with the murderers and torturers that watch your every move, all of them refusing to trust you for a second. They would all glee at the chance to kill him, Satan's favorite, but none of them will until they are sure they can get away with it. No, hell is anything other boring. Or maybe that’s just the way it is for Crowley. He's never fit in down there, or up there to come to think of it.

It took Crowley six thousand years before he found a place where he didn’t have to act a certain amount of heavenly or hellish, and he found that place in A. Z. Fell's Antique Bookshop. The coming week after the Apocalypse that never happened was begun with the realization that he could not safely return home. Ligur's bubbling puddle of demon goo and holy water made his apartment far too risky for him to reside in. So, while his apartment got expertly cleaned by a crew who by no small number of miracles didn’t ask questions about the strange puddle in his doorway, Crowley found himself staying on Aziraphale's couch. Aziraphale had offered the bed, but Crowley didn’t sleep as much as his angel did anyways. He doesn’t find the comfort sleep it that Aziraphale enjoys every night for eight hours. It was kind of Aziraphale to let him stay on his couch, but Crowley can't help and feel displeasure towards their sleeping arrangements for putting so much distance between them. A place to sleep nearby Aziraphale would have been more suited to Crowley's tastes— after all, Aziraphale's bed is the perfect place between too soft and too firm, and it is large, much too large for one angel. Still, despite what Crowley wants, he will wait for Aziraphale to invite him. Being on their own side is new and terrifying to his angel, and he's already waited six thousand years to be this close with him. What's six thousand more? Well, it seems to be starting off with him watching the storefront while Aziraphale goes out to meet with some book dealer about some first edition prophecy book. Crowley doesn't see the purpose in having a book that predicts the future after they recently had The Prophecy Book, but when he asked Aziraphale why he needs it the only answer he got was that he "just does." At first, Crowley had been excited to watch the shop and scare off customers in new and creative ways, but thanks to Aziraphale's unruly hours of operation, no one was coming in. He resorts himself to flipping through the children's books that Adam left when he clicked the reboot button. The story was entertaining enough, but Crowley can't stand reading. If Aziraphale doesn’t return soon Crowley is going to build a fort using the religious scripts to keep himself entertained. The mere fact that he's actually excited when the door chimes to announces a new visitor shows how desperate he is for something to do. "Well, hello." Crowley nearly buzzes from the excitement at ruining another sale, scarring another customer away forever. "What can I tempt you with tod..." There's a woman in the shop. At least that's what most people see— a woman in a white pantsuit with golden irises. But, Crowley knows that person— knows that it’s Her. He hasn’t seen Her since she stood over Crowley and ten million other pre-fallen angels. She looked at them with a scowl filled only with disappointment, and She had looked at everyone but him. "Hello," She smiles— Crowley's never seen Her smile before. "It's been a long time. What's the name you've been going by again?" "Crowley," he answers Her automatically. The emotion of seeing the Almighty, Creator of Worlds, and Keeper of The Great and Ineffable Plans are not dissimilar to seeing an old schoolteacher in the grocery store. Now, Crowley has never been to a public high school— though he did pride himself for inventing a cold, concrete building filled to the brim with angst-ridden teenagers— so, he's never actually gone through the experience of failing a class. However, standing face to face with Her, he feels the same way an ex-student would facing their Calculus teacher after failing the final. Except he failed Her in a much more dire way. "Crowley," his name slips off Her tongue without any inflection to hint at a negative or positive reaction towards his demonic name. "Unfortunately, we'll have to make this quick. I've been very busy since the failed Armageddon." His back straightens, but he doesn't prepare to fight or flee. Even if he wanted to attempt it, running from Her was pointless. "Are you here to kill me? Make sure Heaven still gets a win." She runs Her hands across the bindings of Aziraphale's collection; he wants to tell Her to stop. "No, actually I hoped we could talk. The three of us." Behind his sunglasses, Crowley's glares at Her. "He doesn't belong to you anymore.” When She holds up Her hand Crowley stops talking. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to bring him back. I’m quite pleased with the work Aziraphale has been doing on Earth.” “Then why are you here?” The shop’s bell goes off again and in stumbles Aziraphale with a stack of antique books that went all the way up to his chin. His hair is a curled mess, and he’s already rambling to Crowley— unaware of their visitor— about how incredibly rude his book dealer acted towards him. All the hesitance he had towards having Crowley as his guest disappeared days ago and the angel had grown quite used to his presence. His actual schedule hadn’t changed— one of the things he was most concerned about. Aziraphale still spent the afternoons reading in silence, but now he did so as Crowley drank wine and swayed to his vinyl. It’s a nice life. It’s a boring life. Certainly, one where he doesn’t expect the Almighty to be standing about in his bookshop. “Oh my. Lord, you’re here.” He’s frazzled, attempts to bow but he’s unable to do much more than nod his head. Aziraphale looks between Her and Crowley before dread washes over him. “Are you here to kill him?” She smirks at Aziraphale’s direct question. He’s gotten bold, She thinks. “No, I'm afraid my smiting days are over. I came because I have an offer,” gold eyes turn to Crowley, “for you. Saving the world deserves a reward, does it not?” Crowley’s almost at a loss for words. “A reward for ruining your Great Plan, saving the humans that you wanted dead." "I never wanted them dead." "What?" Aziraphale asked. "Is it that much of a shock? I did create them for a larger purpose than to kill them all off after six thousand years." She pulls a little memo pad out of Her suit pocket. The words "INEFFABLE PLAN" are written in marker on the front. "You've always had such a way with words, Aziraphale. I hope you don’t mind me stealing one of them." "Not at all." "What offer?" Behind his sunglasses, Crowley's irises find a way to constrict even more than they already had before. "What could Heaven possibly have that I would want?" "Forgiveness." Now, a long time ago, before the written history of the world, She had shunned half of Her angels. Crowley had fallen into a boiling pit of sulfur and felt his wings burn into blackened, broken appendages on his back. Angels like Aziraphale can travel by their wings should they ever feel the need, but most don't find the need to as they linger around their own respective corners of Heaven or their Soho area bookshop. Hypothetically, demons can also fly. However, flying for demons is a painful experience, like sprinting on a once broken ankle that never quite healed. They were unhealable by any demonic or angelic miracle, in fact, most demons lost the wings all together in the fall. Only God can heal them with Her forgiveness. Three words. That's all it would take. However, She has never forgiven one of the Fallen before, and there were no indications that She ever would. Satan had once been Her favorite child, and if She could not find it in her to forgive him the other angels stood no chance. That being said, most do not care for forgiveness. Most meant to fall. "Forgiveness?" "You mean he'd be an angel again?" Aziraphale puts the books down and goes to stand near Crowley who processes Her words. "Is that even possible?" "If it isn't I'll make it possible. Perks of being the creator of everything." She levels Crowley with a look. "I've missed you. The others aren’t the same without you, you know." "Oh, believe me," Crowley spits out. "I have seen what they call heavenly these days. Burning a Principality with hellfire for averting war and saving their holier-than-thou lives? When did that become acceptable behavior?" "Everything played out exactly as it was supposed to happen." She steps forward and puts a hand on Crowley's cheek, not deterred when he flinches back on instinct. "I miss you, Ra—" Crowley pushes Her hand away. "Don't. That isn't who I am anymore. My name is Crowley." "Your name was Raphael, and it can be again." She says. Crowley has yet to look over to Aziraphale since his heavenly name was uttered by the Almighty. Should he glance over he would see Aziraphale looking at him like he had placed the final piece of a puzzle that he had assembled blindfolded. The task is a truly daunting one, and once all the colorful pieces are stuck together and the blindfold is removed the puzzle solver is shocked. The image that they had created in their mind of what all the little cardboard pieces look like does not reflect the actual image. The shock isn't necessarily bad or unsatisfying, rather it is unexpected. "You're an archangel." He says softly. "Not anymore." Crowley uses that tone he reserves for when he still attempts to sound cool and not let on that he's affected by the events around him. It's a tone that always breaks Aziraphale's heart. "I don't have a side anymore." "You've always been on my side. Even fallen, you were loyal to me." "I did not fall." The words roll off his tongue just as all the most comfortable lies do. She smiles in Her all-knowing way— snide, clever, and slightly tragic around the edges. "You did fall, Raphael. It's the hardest decision I've ever had to make, choosing you." The air stills in a metaphorical sense, or maybe a literal one as well. Crowley has always been a powerful demon, more powerful than Aziraphale could fully understand, until now at least. The possibility of a shock that intense causing Crowley to unintentionally freeze time around them is not something he would put past his demonic partner. "What do you mean?" Aziraphale asks, takes a step ahead and puts Crowley behind him. "You chose him to fall?" "The antichrist needed both Heaven and Hell on his side," She looks to Crowley. "You understand. Don't you?" "Say it." Crowley sneers; his hand reaches towards Aziraphale's. He's surprised when Aziraphale reaches back to take it. "I want to hear you say it." "What would that accomplish?" "Just say it, Mother." Aziraphale holds his breath. He knows what he's about to hear. "I created you to heal them, even as a demon you can't escape that part of you. So, when I told the Archangels the Great Plan, the plan to kill all the humans, I knew you would seek other options. Question me. You couldn't help it." She holds out Her hand to him. "Now it's time to come home." They don't move, neither one of them. Well, that isn't entirely true. They do move their hands. Crowley and Aziraphale grasp each other’s hands, and they don't take a single step towards Her. She retracts her hand; the smirk doesn't fade away. "Think about it." Then, She's leaves. There's no puff of smoke or flash of light; She walks out the same door that She came in, enters a taxi, and goes wherever all-power creators go on their days off. Behind Aziraphale, Crowley's chest heaves and watches the taxi until it's gone. At the present moment, Aziraphale can't tell if Crowley is angry, relieved, or heartbroken by the unexpected reminder of his lost grace and status. He doesn't look to Aziraphale drops his hand and backs away. "Crowley," Aziraphale keeps his voice kind and soft as he speaks. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know." "I didn't want you to know," Crowley says. "I haven't been that person in a long time. Don't even remember what it feels like, not really." "Do you miss it?" It's an odd sort of question, the one where the answer should be yes but should also be no. Answer yes to prove that he regrets his demonic form, which is true on some level, but he doesn't regret the freedom he obtained after the fall. Freedom to go where he liked, when he liked, and with who he liked. Though he thinks that maybe saying no would be more along the lines of what Aziraphale would expect to hear. Tell him that he couldn't fathom being a celestial again and that he would hate nothing more. That the thought of having that power, that acceptance, that warmth... It should repulse him. He wants it to make him sick, but it doesn't. "I, well, it comes and goes." Flashes of white wings fly through his mind. They looked so much like Aziraphale's. Perfect in every way imaginable. "I'm sorry, Angel." "For what?" "Keeping this from you. I wanted to tell you a thousand times, but I didn't know if you would believe me. I wouldn't even believe me." He takes off his sunglasses and rubs his tired eyes. Aziraphale doesn't deny the initial implausibility of Crowley's angelic identity. "I believe you; you'd never lie to me, Crowley. But they told me that Raphael, that you were out there, healing people." "That," Crowley sighs as he drops onto the couch, "was Gabriel's work. A desperate attempt to keep the masses from panicking over two archangels falling from grace. Not a bad plan, though I'm surprised Gabriel was able to keep his mouth shut about the whole thing. Talk about a glory hound." "Crowley, slow down." Aziraphale interrupts before he can go on a longer tirade. He takes Crowley's hand back in his own. "I don't believe your life has been very kind to you, my dear." Crowley nods because there is nothing left to say. When Aziraphale sits down beside him, Crowley looks upon the wrinkles and dimples that he could picture with perfect clarity if he closed his eyes, even if he had not seen Aziraphale in a thousand years. He committed Aziraphale to memory millennia ago. He wonders if Aziraphale has done the same, and had he been able to read the angel's mind, seen the blinding light that shines in Aziraphale's mind when he imagines him, Crowley would have known how silly of a question that was in the first place. "Oh," Crowley takes Aziraphale's hand. "I don't know. I think I've been pretty lucky, given the circumstances." They smile at each other. Outside a bird's song floats in through the open window, and by some miracle, London is peaceful enough to hear a Nightingale sing.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #Aziraphale #crowley is raphael #good omens fic #miranda writes #she should be writing her wips #but writers block happens kid #and sometimes a girl just needs to write some good omens fic

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