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roosterforme · 1 month

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You rendered Bradley speechless and left him wondering if your students were the ones who wanted to know what he looked like or if it was really you who was curious. He wanted to know everything about you, but the urge to ask for more was mingling with his duty to keep things professional. You and he teetered on the edge... until you didn't.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley looking hot

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley found himself homesick in a way he never did before. He still had weeks and weeks of this deployment to go, stuck on the aircraft carrier, endlessly curious about someone he barely knew anything about and a classroom full of kids he'd never met. But he felt like he wanted to know more about you and them.

At least he was too busy now to dwell on the fact that it had been days since the last mail call. He was never one who was lined up, eager to collect something from a loved one. Vanessa and all of his other ex girlfriends never sent him handwritten notes or snacks. He'd gotten sporadic emails in the past, but nothing that made him smile and laugh out loud. Never anything that made him sad when he realized he had reached the end of the note, hoping for more.

He wanted to go back to the lounge and check his email, but he was afraid he'd have nothing new to read. There was really nobody else other than you who would send him anything right now, and he was sure you had something better to do with your time than comment on the photos he'd send of his jet and the engine parts. And even if you had written back, how long could he really keep this conversation with you going? How soon would you run out of interest in his deployment?

Bradley knew he'd be much better at talking to you in person, but how the hell was he supposed to get there? Jesus Christ, you were probably married. You probably already had someone back home wrapped around your fingers, and here he was, still thinking about you.

"Pitiful," he muttered, making his way to the lounge anyway. He would keep it professional with you. One hundred percent. But he still wanted to know if your students got to see the photos and if they had any questions about them.

When he logged into his email account, his heart skipped around a bit when he saw that he had something new from you. Then he opened it up and read it, and his lips parted softly in surprise at what you'd sent.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now.

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

Bradley read it again. Still surprised, he read it a third time. Were you the one asking for the photo? It seemed like you might be. Or was he just projecting here? Shit. Maybe. He'd been thinking about how he'd respond if you asked him something personal, and this felt like you and he were teetering right on the edge.

You even echoed his own thoughts, but it still made him warm all over to know that you looked forward to hearing from him. That it made your day better when he sent an email. He decided he was going to keep this going as long as he could.

He logged out again and headed to the mess hall for dinner, because there was no point in responding until he had the photo you just asked him for. One where you'd be able to see exactly what every inch of him looked like. As he ate his meatloaf, his thoughts all settled on that one pertinent question: were your students really the ones who were curious about how he looked, or were you? Because it sounded like it could be the latter. He fucking hoped it was. And he fucking hoped you wouldn't be disappointed after tomorrow when he sent you exactly what was asked of him.

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

You thought you were ready, but you weren't. Not for this. Not for him. Not even close. Thankfully it was still early enough that none of your students were in the classroom with you, because Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw had responded to your slightly tipsy email from a few nights ago. He sent exactly one photo, and your only response was to softly moan, "Holy hell."

To say he was attractive looking standing there in his flight suit next to the jet with his name on the side of it would have been the understatement of the century. He was hot. Unbelievably hot. Top tier. You shamelessly zoomed in to get an even better look at his face which was complete with a crooked little smile and a fucking mustache.

"Who does he think he is?" you asked the empty room, voice filled with need. "The audacity."

Even his messy, wavy hair looked soft enough for you to want to rub your face and lips against it. Where did that idea come from? You uncrossed and recrossed your legs as the most delightful thoughts filled your mind. You already knew he was sweet, kind, attentive and humble, but now you knew he was easy on the eyes, too. If only you could hear his voice.

After several minutes of uninterrupted gawking, you realized he'd written a few sentences to you as well, addressing you just as he always had. But this felt more personal. Maybe a little intimate.

For reference, I'm 6'1" and 205 pounds. That should give you and your kiddos a good size comparison, yeah? Also, just a little curious myself here.... are you sure they were the only ones who wanted to know what I look like? Or did you want to know, too?

So he called you out. Your whole body felt too hot and too light. You were floating off of your chair even as your heart pounded. You must be two feet in the air by now. He already knew what you looked like, but now you cared more than ever what he thought about you. Because you had a massive crush on your classroom pen pal.

"How embarrassing. You drunk emailed him! How are you supposed to respond to this?" you whispered as you closed your laptop and pressed your fingers to your lips. It was hard to tell if his tone was playful or not. He was smiling in the photo, which made you think that he was. But perhaps he was trying to put a stop to any topic of conversation that could be considered personal.

Then it hit you like a bolt of lightning. No way was this man single. He was handsome. That would have been enough on its own. But he also had an impressive career, all of his hair, and he was tall. And that didn't even scrape the surface of his sweet personality! You couldn't embarrass yourself further. You just couldn't. You wanted him to keep writing to your class, because they were already so attached to him. You couldn't ruin this for them.

When your students came flooding into the room, they led off with the same question they had every morning now. "Did we get anything in the mail from Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

"Not yet," you replied, still trying to decide how to respond to his photo. "But hopefully soon. He did email another picture though."

All of them were immediately headed for your desk, wanting to see what their pen pal looked like. You pressed your lips together, bracing yourself as you opened up that photo again, and then the kids all interjected into your thoughts.

"His jet is so cool!"

"It's huge!"

"He looks exactly how I thought he would!"

"Can he send us more stuff?"

It took you a good, long while to get them all into their seats. Clearly you weren't the only one who was entranced by him. Their questions overflowed, most of which still had to do with the aviation topics you'd been teaching them. Bradley Bradshaw had turned your classroom upside down, in a good way. And the more you thought about it, the more you just wanted to make sure you weren't missing out on something here. This man was better looking than the last three guys you went out with all combined, and he already made you feel tingly inside before you knew that for a fact.

You went home after work and did it again. You drank some wine and logged into your work email account and wrote back to him less than a day after he wrote to you. Part of you recognized that you'd look desperate, but you simply had to know so you could stop thinking about him if necessary. You started typing.

It was definitely, absolutely my students who wanted to know what you look like. It had nothing to do with me. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. That being said...nice photo. Very nice.

My kids also wanted me to ask you if your spouse or significant other is in the Navy. And they'd like to know how old your kids are if you have any. Once again, just to be clear, I'm only asking these things on their behalf...

"Send," you whispered, doing it before you could stop yourself. Then you were left with your intrusive thoughts and the rest of the wine, ultimately deciding to just go to bed. He wasn't going to respond right away. He was busy working. You just hoped it didn't take too long.

But it did. Days passed. You normally tried not to think about your work email account during the weekends, let alone check it. Saturday was miserable as you logged in almost hourly to check and double check if you had something new from Lieutenant Bradshaw. It was so bad, you ended up initiating a movie night with some of your friends, opting to lock your phone in the center console of your car rather than take it into the theater.

Sunday was no better. You took yourself to the beach for the afternoon to try to read and sunbathe. But there was a group of guys in US NAVY TOP GUN shirts playing football, and you wondered if Bradley ever did this kind of thing with his friends. Or his family. Jesus Christ, why couldn't he just write back and tell you if he had a pretty wife and six adorable kids who loved to play football on the beach with him?

When two of the guys in the TOP GUN shirts purposely threw the football toward your towel and tried to play it off as an accident, you didn't even feel like returning their flirtatious banter. Neither of them had a mustache or soft looking brown hair. Neither of them left you wanting to know more.

You went home and tried so hard not to check your work email, but you failed miserably. But then you were happy you caved, because he wrote back. Bradley Bradshaw actually responded again. And a few seconds later, you were giggling and trying to control the squeal that escaped your lips.

When the mail arrived on the aircraft carrier yesterday, I was one of the first officers in line, and I wasn't disappointed. I got the second box from your class, and I can't wait to start reading and responding to everyone's notes this week. I'll let you know when you've got more mail coming your way.

Since your students seem to be showing quite an interest in my personal life, please let them know I actually don't have a spouse or significant other at all. Nor do I have any kids. Their letters (and your emails, too) are the only ones I'm getting this deployment. No one else has been writing to me. Nobody stateside is waiting for me. I hope that answers their questions to your liking.

And now it's your turn to answer a question for me. Is there a guy in your life who is going to try to beat the crap out of me if I tell you that I think you're gorgeous?

I'll just be waiting impatiently for your response.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

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

Bradley was so tired. The kind of bone deep exhaustion that only comes after the completion of a dangerous mission when your adrenaline finally wears off. All he could think about was how badly he wanted to be back at home in his bed in San Diego with a soft, warm body next to his and a sweet voice in his ear. But he was picturing your face and your body, already convinced you'd have the sweetest voice he'd ever heard.

Shit. He needed to focus on what the admirals had to say instead of drift into daydreams.

"No need to report to the strategy room in the morning, Lieutenant," his commanding officer said as Bradley unzipped the top of his flight suit. "Take some time to rest."

He saluted the admiral and walked off toward his bunk and a hot shower. But even as the steamy water eased the ache in his muscles, he thought about how he already knew he wouldn't be able to sleep right now. Not when he still had a few messages from your students to respond to. Not when those notes always made him smile.

This time you'd only included a very short note in the box, but it wasn't typed up and printed out. It was written in your pretty penmanship on a sheet of lined paper.

Lt Bradshaw,

I hope this package finds you well. Please prepare yourself for approximately seven hundred more questions. Thanks again for sharing your time with us.

He didn't mind one bit. In all actuality, he was living for this shit, already thinking about how he could maybe visit your classroom someday soon. Several of the kids asked him if he could. They all asked him to take more pictures of life on the aircraft carrier. Then he laughed for a solid minute over the photo that Jayden sent of his Cocker Spaniel named Vanessa.

But Bradley had purposely been neglecting his email inbox for the last few days. He was too afraid to read your words telling him that you were in fact taken, and that he was stupid for thinking you'd been the one who wanted to know what he looked like. He was rather enjoying the delusion that you might let him tell you how pretty he thought you were over email and maybe someday in person. He decided to respond to the rest of the notes in the box before getting rejected, otherwise it would be too hard to do this.

He finished writing back to Oliver and Cooper and then tucked the box away under his bed before drifting off to sleep while dreaming of his own bed. But the next day, he had literally no work to do. He's been given the entire day off. He hit the gym and avoided the married woman like the plague. Then he ate lunch and contemplated going back to the gym again, but his feet carried him to the lounge instead. At the very least, he promised you that he'd let you know when you had mail on the way so the kids could get excited. He should take the time to tell you he'd be sending more responses to your class by air mail.

Somehow Bradley had convinced himself so thoroughly that you were in a relationship, he almost couldn't fathom anything else. But there was a new message from you in his inbox, and it felt like a gift when he opened and read it.

Lt Bradshaw,

I must say, I was surprised to find out that my emails and the letters from my class are the only ones making their way to you. Not that I'm complaining. Not one bit. I just find it hard to believe that you don't have a lot of interested parties hoping for a chance to be the one you think about when you're deployed and all alone.

My last boyfriend didn't like it when I talked about my fourth graders. He didn't really see any value in what I do for a living. He would have never taken the time to read something they wrote let alone answer their questions individually. So no, there's nobody who would be upset with you for making me feel like there are butterflies permanently living in my belly now. If you want to tell me you think I'm gorgeous, I'm certainly not going to stop you.

Here's my personal, non school affiliated email address. Just in case you feel like using it. If not, you can keep responding here, and I can take the hint that we went far enough.

I hope you're doing well and staying safe.

Frantically, Bradley checked the date and time stamp. "Fuck," he growled, his fingers not quite able to keep up with his brain when he realized you'd sent this to him days ago. More than five days ago! "Shit. Fuck!" He had been keeping you waiting! As soon as he got his hands working at the same speed as his thoughts, he copied and pasted your personal email address and started a new thread like his life depended on it.

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

You were just curling up with a cup of sleepy time tea after a long day at work, wishing someone would put you out of your misery, when your phone vibrated on the couch cushion next to your leg. You were half tempted to ignore it, reasoning that it was probably time to accept the fact that Bradley Bradshaw already lost interest in you and delete his photos from your downloads folder. You should learn how to stop embarrassing yourself.

Then you glanced down and saw that you had a new email. It was from a now familiar sender. It had been sent to your personal account. You immediately scrambled to unlock your phone and read it.

Hey, Gorgeous,

I'd like to take it further.

Yours Truly,

Bradley Bradshaw

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

What the fuck, Bradley, you smooth man! Take it further, take it further, take it further! I love how impatient they get when they want to hear from each other. Now go ahead and get a little more personal. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who sent me messages and asks about this fic.

PART 4

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azulock · 1 month

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sorry for the sporadic posts, aside from my wrist just healing recently, I've been working nonstop, sadly it seems I'm in my hustle era ugh, but here, have a lil something on the house

how the guys get off when you're not around

panty stealer.

whenever he leaves for a trip at least one of your panties leaves with him. maybe more. and of course, he's gonna go for the used ones. can be found jacking off vigorously with his nose buried in the underwear he stole whenever he misses you too much. or just whenever he gets horny. if he knows hell stay away for long enough he is for sure stealing more than one pair.

ISAGI, NESS, BACHIRA, Shidou, Hiori, Rin

cinephile.

if a picture is worth a thousand words, a video is even more. his second favorite thing is watching the filthy videos he has of you - the first is filming them. he can't deny the appeal in filming you getting fucked by him, an appeal that gest him going even faster whenever he's horny and alone. he's gonna have his cock in one hand and the phone in another, stroking himself and imagining the next thing you two will film.

OLIVER, KAISER, KARASU, Shidou, Sendo, Reo

voice kink.

it doesn't even matter what you are saying, really, especially when he's missing you you could be saying anything and he'd get horny in the spot. he's gonna pull up whatever audio of yours he has, or even a video, he doesn't care for the image, all he cares is for the sound of your voice. if he's feeling so bold he might even call you, say he misses you, and try to silently jack off while you talk about your day.

NAGI, REO, KUNIGAMI, Sae, Sendo, Ness

phone sex.

sometimes it just becomes too much, and he just needs a little more than a photo, a video, or some other memento of you. sometimes he needs you there, even if from a distance, even if he can't see you. but just hearing how horny and needy you are for him on the other end of the call already has him crazy. and it just builds up anticipation for how he'll see you, and touch you, soon enough.

NAGI, SHIDOU, SAE, Ness, Kunigami, Oliver

cam guy.

when missing you becomes way too much for him to bear with he always ends up needing to see you, even if you are on the other end of the continent. it's not exactly what he wants, but it's more than good enough. and getting yo see your body, getting to see you masturbate through the camera is hot as fuck, there's no denying that. and he just might like seeing himself through the camera too? yeah, just a little bit tho.

OLIVER, SHIDOU, KAISER, Sendo, Reo, Karasu

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #oliver aiku x reader #michael kaiser x reader #shidou ryusei x reader #seishiro nagi x reader #mikage reo x reader #kunigami x reader #sendo x reader #itoshi sae x reader #alexis ness x reader

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winterrrnight · 4 months

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“here we are again” — new beginnings chapter II

PAIRING: stepdad!soft!rafe x mom!reader

WARNINGS: none!

EDITH SPEAKS: hello mls! I hope you enjoy reading this chapter <3 just a lil note: updates will get a bit sporadic for the upcoming week or so because I have some big things coming up which unfortunately require more attention than my silly little fics :( I greatly apologise for that, but let me tell you once I'm free I'll have great fics awaiting you all!!

please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading and don't hesitate to let me know any of your thoughts 💕💕

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↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

You let out a huge sigh as you lean back in your chair and close your eyes shut. You’ve been trying to find a good preschool for Sage, after you had to pull her out of the one she was earlier in because their fees increased exponentially, and unfortunately you haven’t been earning enough to support Sage going to such an expensive school.

“Mamma mamma!” You hear her call you out from a different room. Her footsteps are audible as she comes running to you, basically banging the floor with her feet.

“Mamma!” She says, smiling wide, standing next to the front legs of your chair and tugging on your pants. You look down at her and plaster a big smile on your face, picking her up and placing her on your lap.

“Yes baby?” You coo, leaning to press a kiss on her soft cheek, which is tinted a light pink.

“I made something for you! You have to see it now,” she says, now tugging on your crewneck. You get up from your chair, Sage on your hip as you go to the room she was just in.

You set her down on the floor, and she picks up a folded paper. “Here,” she grins, and you take the paper from her.

You unfold it and you see a drawing of you, her, and one strange man standing next to the two of you. She’s colored in the drawings, her colors going out of her drawn lines, assuming their own directions, but nevertheless, you can’t help but grin wide at the present.

“Sage baby,” you get on your knees in front of her, “this is so cute! You’re my talented little kiddo, aren’t you?” You smile, tickling her sides. She laughs and squirms to get away from you, her little hands trying to swat you away.

“But who is that?” You ask, pointing at the drawing of the strange man.

“Fafe!” She yells excitedly.

“Fafe? Who’s ‘Fafe’ baby?”

“We met him, at the, at the store! He was big, veryyy big!”

And suddenly it strikes you. The handsome, handsome man who you met at the grocery store. It’s been around a week since that day and you had nearly forgotten about him.

Nearly.

Until this exact moment.

Now everything comes back to you; the exact moment you saw him, your eyes sinking into his, your heart beating so loud it might as well jump out of your chest.

“I remember him baby, why did you draw him?”

“Because, because he was very nice to me,” she says, her hands at her back as she’s swaying side to side in her position.

You aren’t sure what to reply to her with. She drew a man you met and didn’t even talk for more than five minutes on a random Tuesday, and showed you three being a family.

Dad, mom, and Sage. A family.

Is she expecting you two to just get married to him? To bring him in your house this quick?

But, at the end of the day, she’s a four year old little girl, with a wild imagination, and a desire to have a father figure in her life.

You’ve tried your level best to never let Sage feel the lack of a father in her life, but you always knew deep in your heart that one day, she will wonder why she only has a single parent, and why can’t she have two parents like all her friends. But you never expected this day to come so early.

You shake your head and come back to reality, and let a smile pull onto your lips. “I’ll hang this on the fridge next to all your other art,” you tell her, and she jumps up and down with excitement. You make your way to your kitchen, your daughter on your heels as she’s giggling, and you pin her drawing up with a magnet next to the rest. You take a step back to admire the splash of colors on your fridge door, your heart feeling content.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

You smooth out the wrinkles in her dress, and tie the bow of her dress tightly. Sage is especially giggly today, your hands roaming over her little body which constantly creates a tickling sensation on her skin.

“Mamma, where are we going?” She asks you, carefully pocketing a candy you gave her. You pick her up and take her to your kitchen island, settling her in her chair to hand her her cereal.

“We’re going to a new school baby,” you say, pouring milk into her bowl and mixing it well with her fruit loops.

“But, I love home,” she puts, her eyes big and wide, and you know she’s trying her best to convince you to stay at home by putting on a puppy dog face.

“You know that face doesn’t work on me,” you smile, sitting next to her, and gently smoothing a hand over her hair. She only giggles as her answer and you pick up her spoon, and start to feed her. Even though she knows how to eat on her own, you’re worried she might get messy and spill the milk on her dress.

You were worried she might not like the idea of going to a new school. She really liked the previous one, but you knew you couldn’t keep her in there for long. But here she is sitting next to you, eating her cereal as excitedly as if you’re about to go to an amusement park.

Once she’s done eating, you both leave for the school. This one also happens to be closer to your home than the last one, so you're quick to reach there. You help Sage get out of the car, her light bag hanging on her shoulders and her hand securely in yours, as you lead her to the main doors of the school.

When you go inside, the receptionist leads you to the classroom Sage has been assigned to. A few children are sitting on the floor of the classroom, empty white sheets spread around them along with unopened boxes of paint.

You hear Sage audibly gasp as she notices all the art supplies, her eyes shining with a desire to create art. You look around the classroom to spot a teacher, but there’s no one to be seen.

You decide to maybe talk to the receptionist once again; maybe she’s making a mistake? You leave Sage in the classroom and turn around, and almost in the next fraction of the second you bang into a broad chest.

“Oh gosh I’m so sorry!” You grunt, your eyes closed from the impact. You run a hand over your forehead, feeling a slight pain from your collision into the broad and muscular chest.

You finally open your eyes, and you see the last person you would expect to be here.

“Rafe?”

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

what do you all think Rafe is doing there? 🤭

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intothegenshinworld · 4 months

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Fate’s Destiny ~ Chapter 9 || Gnoses

You somehow, not being able to explain it, had fallen into the Genshin world you know oh-so-well. You were no new player and had explored most of the nooks and crannies of the world. When you first had woken up in Windrise you wondered; it might be a dream, after all, you were behind your screen usually, and now- here? It made no sense, and the world was keen on keeping it that way.

Warnings: Spoilers for main story.

Word count: 6.4k+

Summary chapter 9: we continue where we left off; you with the gnosis in the inn and Kaeya bursting through the door. Why is here here in Liyue? And more importantly; will he be able to aid you with your deteriorating memories?

Auteurs note: The beginning of the year was a bit hectic. Expect sporadic updates!

Thanks to: all the people who showed love on the last chapter <3

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Kaeya stands in the doorframe. He is out of breath. You watch his chest rise and fall rapidly, and his expression is twisted into distress, a strange thing for a supposedly joyful reunion.

“Kaeya?” You watch a drop of water fall from his navy blue hair onto the wooden floor below. “I don’t understand… What are you doing here?”

As you gaze at him, his expression softens. His gritted teeth relax, making his mouth fall open, and his eyes soften as he stops furrowing his brows. He radiates stress, yet you can still sense his usual warm and inviting aura.

A grunt escapes his lips and you watch him struggle to get any words from his mind out of his mouth.

Worry now flashes across your face as you turn your head to look over at Lumine. “Did something happen?”

Aside from Kaeya, the Cavalry Captain from Mondstadt being in Liyue , she too seemed distressed when she first opened the door. Her golden eyes make contact with yours before they move over to the side. She stares at something slightly to the left of you. When you follow her gaze, your eyes meet the gnosis standing solitary on the table.

Without any thought, you’re reaching your hand forward to the potent object, securing it in your seemingly powerless hold before returning her gaze.

The gnosis hums a low tune throughout your body. "Are we in danger?"

Lumine quickly shakes her head. “No, no. We’re fine.” With the flick of her wrist she turns the handle of her sword, dissipating it into elemental particles that shimmer in the air before disappearing. She continues, “Nothing happened.”

“But Kaeya?" With confusion, you gesture your free hand to him. The whole ordeal seemed too strange for her answer to be ‘nothing’.

“He…” Lumine trails off as she looks up at the Cavalry Captain.

He still hasn’t said anything at all. Not a ‘hi!’, not a ‘how have you been? Last time I saw you we were about to get into a fight on Dragonspine.’; nothing. And when you start to think about it, you’re unsure whether you prefer the silence over the inevitable explaining you’ll have to do.

“He had a long journey,” Lumine says as she gives him a pat on the back. “I think he needs a shower and some dry clothes before he’ll be able to explain everything.”

“Right.”

You look over at him. If only you could tell him he’s awaiting a much worse explanation from your side than he'll ever be able to present himself. Nonetheless, a smile finds its way onto your face as you watch your familiar companion move through the room.

Kaeya was able to salvage his spare clothes from his drenched backpack—which probably has seen better days. You admit he does appear to be in a better state once out of the shower. You had only traveled long distances once with Lumine, and his journey from Mondstadt city to Liyue harbour was much longer than the one you made. Perhaps he’d been overwhelmed instead of distressed.

As you observe him, he notices your fixated gaze on him and he sends you a toothy smile, one which you return with joy. “You look better.”

“You too.” He replies.

You're unsure of the meaning behind his words. When you try to think about it, your mind blanks. Had you really looked worse in Mondstadt? All you can remember is the cold welcome you had gotten, so perhaps he meant you looked more relaxed?

For a while, you can’t quite grasp your head around the situation, and you’re not sure why. If anything, with your dull eyes and your skin seeming to fade into transparency, you should look worse.

Your eyes follow Lumine as she walks across the room. Once she reaches your side, she takes a seat on the couch next to you. On her other side, Paimon stops flying and plops down with a soft thud. The pixie had been quiet when the three first came back, but she’s returned to filling the air with her usual chatter again.

A high-pitched voice interjects the silence.‘’Paimon knows everyone is relaxing, but Paimon is still confused. We know that Kaeya was in Liyue as a diplomat to check up on local business, but that doesn’t make sense. Why would the Acting Grand Master send Kaeya after Rex Lapis returned?”

Kaeya crosses his legs and sends her a teasing smile. “What can I say? Word about the geo Archon’s death spreads faster than his revival.’’ He twirls his hand into the air, “When I was on the road, rumors had already begun to circulate. With new information but no visual confirmation of it, I wouldn’t have been able to return to Jean, would I?’’

“Paimon knew that!” She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest.

You catch a fleeting moment of eye contact between Kaeya and Lumine. With the latter next to you and the former on the loveseat across, it’s inevitable, yet you refrain from pointing it out.

An unsettling feeling arises in your chest.

You feel left out.

After a moment longer, you clear your throat. “So nothing happened after we got separated on Dragonspine?”

Kaeya’s eyes move from your figure over to your Lumine once more. Despite being happy to see him again, neither of you had a chance to say goodbye when you suddenly ended up in Liyue. And now he’s here, sharing hesitant glances with your travel companions while everyone refrains from giving you the full story of what had happened in your absence.

“To be honest, you certainly gave Albedo and me a scare when you disappeared. Admittedly, it took a while to convince Eula to calm down, but once Albedo’s doppelganger left, we all dropped our weapons to figure out what had happened.“ Kaeya sighs and shakes his head. “Not that it made much sense after. But… I was able to feel your aura. Though I wasn’t able to pin down where you went, I knew you were alive. And for the first few days, that was enough.“

“Wait, a doppelganger ?“

“Yeah,“ Kaeya tries to smile confidently but he ends up cringing instead, “We let Albedo handle that one on his own.“

“So the Acting Grand Master is not mad for you hiding me?”

Kaeya locks eyes with you, his gaze strong and unwavering. He sends a warm smile your way. Despite the tension from before, you feel your heart skip a beat. “I am thankful, but please don’t worry about me, dearest Creator.”

You feel the weight of the gnosis in your pocket. It suddenly feels like a heavy burden. For a moment, you felt yourself again, but with the way Kaeya said it, you have to believe his words; you are the Creator.

“Woah. Paimon suddenly feels very grateful that Paimon didn’t give you an ugly nickname.“ You watch Paimon shiver as she imagines it. “Though we’ve already met a god, the Creator of everything seems much more powerful.”

A laugh escapes your lips, breaking the short silence. “What nickname would you have given me?“

“Well…“ Paimon buckles under the pressure of your curious gaze. For a moment, she intensely thinks about it, only to shake her hands defensively in front of her figure right after. “Paimon obviously can’t say it!“

Lumine taps Paimon’s shoulder, throwing her off balance. “And this is why you shouldn’t give every single person you meet an ugly nickname.“

“Paimon can’t help it!“

The warm sound of infectious laughter reverberates through the room. Kaeya holds a hand to his stomach, the eye without the patch closed. As he struggles to compose himself, his victorious smile radiates, casting a warm glow across the room. “Seems you've found your place here quite seamlessly.”

Paimon huffs, arms crossed. “We tried to tell you.” Her expression sours, “But Paimon thinks Lumine would’ve been worried as well if she had many bad dreams like you did.”

Your eyebrow raises before they settle into a frown. “Bad dreams?” You turn your head to Kaeya who looks guilty. “You’ve been unwell?”

“Don’t worry.” Lumine cuts in and a sigh of relief echoes through the room. “A lot has happened these past few weeks but I promise you that Paimon and I will keep you safe. Simply focus on getting your memories back. Afterward, all should be better for everyone.”

Lumine speaks rationally but her promise doesn’t sit well with you. Ultimately, try as you might, there was no counterargument against her. Even as the Creator, with your remaining memories slipping through your fingers, there was nothing you could do.

Seeing the outlander's determined gaze, you find yourself unable to mirror the same resolve. As thoughts circulate, you start to feel pressure build up in your mind, trying desperately to cling to the last memories of your identity.

“I must say, I’ve been quite curious.” Kaeya saves you from your thoughts as he speaks out to you. “You seem to have a more exciting story to tell compared to mine. Meeting the geo Archon and simultaneously reviving him after he fakes his death just because he wants to be with you? Now that’s a headline.”

“It’s less exciting than it seems. It might be a long and boring conversation.”

Kaeya crosses his arms and makes himself comfortable in the lovechair. “We’ve got all the time in the world, my dearest Creator.”

After Kaeya prompted you to talk about your adventures, you rambled for nearly two hours. Not that he ever seemed to mind your neverending word vomit. Throughout your one-sided catching up, he kept an inviting smile on his face, only ever interrupting you to ask questions that got you talking for even longer.

Lucky for you, with the rain continuously pouring outside there wasn’t any rush for Kaeya to leave. For a moment you could let all your worries out. It was a nice change of pace from glaring at the gnosis and hoping it’d give you back your memories in due time.

You move in your seat. “Are you staying in Liyue for long?”

Kaeya inhales sharply. He lowers his head, causing the curtain of his bangs to cascade over his face. “While I’d love to be at your side for longer, my ride back to Mondstadt is leaving tomorrow and I still have business to take care of.”

A silent nod conveys your understanding. While you weren’t surprised at his answer, you had hoped he could aid you in your quest to recover your memories. His presence alone had been enough to make you feel at ease during these distressing times.

“Oh?” Kaeya smiles playfully. “You look at me as if this is goodbye.”

“It’s not?”

“I certainly hope not.” He fixes the strands of hair that hang in front of his covered eye. “Besides, it is fate that has led us together all this time. I have the feeling that I’ll see you again sooner or later.”

You smile to yourself. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

After giving you a firm nod, Kaeya stands up from the lovechair. He stretches both of his legs and then moves his head to face Lumine. You’re unable to capture their expressions from your position but you witness them nod once—seemingly in agreement, before returning their attention to you.

Kaeya speaks up first, letting out a laugh between words. “I better head out before my ride gets upset.”

The pixie hovers closer, “Paimon was wondering, who took you to Liyue? Paimon doubts anyone would willingly visit this chaos. It must be someone important, right?”

“Some people would argue his importance in this situation, but yes. You know him. A certain redhead we’re both familiar with had to check up on business after his connections got shut down. And I won’t say no to an opportunity where I can steal a few bottles of wine in the shipment he’s making.”

“Oh!” Paimon realizes something. “You mean Diluc? He is the only winemaker with red hair that we met in Mondstadt.”

“And basically the one to own the entire industry there,” Kaeya states playfully. He turns his head back to you.

A torrent of emotions engulfs you, a tumultuous mix of grief, joy, fear, resentment, bliss, and emptiness,—each of them hitting harder than the last.

It disappears as quick as lighting strikes, leaving you to doubt if these emotions were real or a figment of imagination.

Kaeya speaks again, pulling you back into the presence. “Good luck with everything. I know you’ll figure this out, whatever ‘it’ might be.” He then looks at Lumine, “I fear you’ll have to be better at protecting them than I have. Be safe, alright?”

The traveler meets his gaze, giving him a reassuring nod that acts as a silent promise.

Before closing the door, Kaeya sends each of you a wave. A bittersweet feeling swirls in your stomach as you bid him goodbye. “Safe travels, Kaeya.”

Paimon, too, waves at him as the door closes.

“Bye Kaeya!”

Lumine seems different ever since she returned with Kaeya. Something is off. She seems worried.

Paimon, on the other hand, seems more cheerful than before. She clings to your side whenever she’s allowed to and has spent the last hour discussing all the things you should do together after you regain your memories.

You don’t have the heart to tell her that you fear it might never happen at this point.

“So… What do you want to do next? Paimon saw how much Kaeya’s advice seemed to help you. Maybe you needed the short break from the gnosis.”

Right, Kaeya did give you advice on the matter.

You look down at the gnosis in your hand. Kaeya had never seen one before, which made sense, but it took you some effort to explain what it was without making things complicated. Such a small object holds such a great power. It’s ridiculous.

He turns his eyes from the gnosis back to you as he starts speaking. “Why don’t you ask Rex Lapis himself? After all, he is the best person to seek answers from. As much as I love Mondstadt, I fear our Archon is as free as its people, so I can’t advise you to come back with me on a journey to find the lost Barbatos.”

You remember how your mind spun at his words. For some reason, his advice seemed so familiar. Even now, you don’t doubt you had heard it before and had simply forgotten. With memories slipping in and out, it’s hard to make out what you did and didn’t already do.

Then, you recall Zhongli. Or, Rex Lapis as you should say. He gave you the gnosis, something you supposedly had given him in the past.

Was he right to put his faith in you?

“I think I’m afraid of disappointment. Zhongli—I mean Rex Lapis—he looked at me with so much confidence… as if I could save the world if I wanted to and yet I’m unable to remember anything about myself.” You look down at your hands. “I’m afraid his belief in me might be misplaced. What if I’m a fake after all?”

Kaeya was quick to respond. So quick, your doubts washed away with his words. “I assure you, you’re not.”

He had moved his hand on top of yours, the gnosis now engulfed by both your hands and one of his. If he felt the vibrations from it, he did a good job of hiding it. The suave smile he sends you floods your brain with shortlived memories, enough to last a lifetime of him by your side.

Then his hand squeezes, and he speaks again. “I might not worship the geo Archon, but I’m confident he’ll answer any questions you’ll have.”

The gnosis is currently on the table. The moment Kaeya left, you put it down and away from yourself. Its glow is dim once you’re out of reach and you no longer feel its energy pulse through your body. It’s a relief.

Maybe you should arrange a meeting between you and Zhongli. It’s not like you hadn’t thought of it before. But the question remains; how? You weren’t ready to expose yourself to the public as long as you didn't have answers, so how could you contact him discreetly?

Lumine finally decides to enter the conversation between you and Paimon by sitting down next to you. She seems hesitant, and it takes her a moment to voice her own opinions. ”If you’re not sure what to do next, we can always wait a few more days. There’s no need to rush this.”

You want to agree with her, you really do, but you know you’re running out of time.

You can feel it slipping away while a feeling of impending doom nestles in its place.

”I know I’d want to meet the geo Archon again. Last time I was overwhelmed and I had no idea how to even talk with him, but now I’m prepared. I’m sure I’ll be able to get answers this time.”

”Paimon is so excited!” She floats up before hovering down again. ”It seems like you finally know what to do to get your memories back.”

You let out a breath of air you had been holding on to. ”I don’t, but Rex Lapis will.”

”So you’re meeting him again?” Lumine asks.

You nod. ”I’m not sure how to get his attention though. Last time he made a big spectacle. I hope to avoid that this time to preserve the little privacy I have left.”

”Paimon is not sure who to ask either. But maybe Paimon and Lumine could ask the Qixing for you!”

You look at Lumine. She seems less keen on this plan and offers something else after a moment of thinking. ”We can go tomorrow morning together before crowds begin to form. This way you won’t be alone and you’ll immediately be able to meet Rex Lapis when we ask the Qixing for an audience.”

”Are you sure I won’t cause a commotion?”

”Paimon and I have been in the city lots of times these past days. Usually, crowds start to form at eight in the morning.” Lumine looks up at the clock in the room. She seems to calculate something in her mind. ”The Qixing most certainly wakes before the common citizens do. If we head out right before the sun starts to rise, we will be fine.”

You nod to yourself. It sounds like a good plan. With Lumine by your side, you will feel safe enough, and you’ll be wearing your trusty cloak, so you agree to her plan.

“It’s already so late. Paimon didn’t expect Kaeya to stay for as long as he did. Seems like he’s fond of chatting, as usual.” She states in a dramatic tone which makes you laugh.

“Maybe, but I enjoyed the reunion. I feel more certain about myself. I’m not sure why though.”

“You know,” Lumine hesitates, “You can talk to us as well if you need it.”

There’s an underlying disappointment in her words. You’re not sure if it’s directed to you or herself, but she makes a fair point. In these past few weeks, you haven’t made the best effort to properly ask her for help when you needed it, even when she had been ready to set aside her own mission to aid you. You hid your troubles away, which might’ve only made her more worried as a result.

You look at your hands. They feel distant from you and you can see the floor through your skin. Seems like that hasn’t changed.

Tomorrow you’ll properly thank her for all she’s done. Hopefully, when you meet Rex Lapis all the missing puzzle pieces will fall in place and you’ll be able to recognize yourself again.

A yawn echoes through the room. “Well. Paimon is heading off to sleep. After all that talking and running around, Paimon can barely stand. If you need Paimon, wait till morning!” She lazily rubs her eyes one last time and then flies off, assumingly to sleep.

“You should sleep too if you can.“ Lumine says. “Tomorrow is a big day if all goes well.“

A sigh escapes your lips. “I hope so.“

With a swift but calculated motion, you grab the gnosis from the table and stand up from the couch. Familiar energy pulses vibrate through your body, but instead of making you feel alert and awake, it soothes you and puts you in a relaxed state.

“Goodnight, y/n.“

You put your last remaining energy into a smile for Lumine. “Goodnight.“

You don’t quite remember waking up. Hell-, it’s still pitch dark when you stand outside of the main exit to the inn, ready to confront an Archon for answers. However, it would undoubtedly turn into another tea party if it were up to Zhongli.

The only comfort you get this morning comes from the energy flowing from the gnosis into your body. It hums and cradles the nerves inside your chest. Once again, you look back down for the so-manyth-time since stepping outside. And once more, the glow of the gnosis is concealed by your cloak.

You just need to keep it safe for a while longer. A low hum echoes through your mind in agreement, and you squeeze the gnosis just a tad tighter to your body.

A voice squeaks over your loud thoughts, “Paimon isn’t sure where we should look first. Maybe we could ask the people at the docks for some information? They always seem to know a lot.“

Lumine huffs out a sarcastic laugh. “Word travels faster to the Qixing than we’ll find it. All we have to do is walk around the harbor and wait.”

“Do you think it’d be that easy?” You reply.

“Yes. Even before, the Qixing is widely known to have eyes everywhere. And with the Creator walking around in their domain, it’s only natural for their gaze to be fixed upon us.”

As the three of you depart from the inn and further into the harbour you find yourself growing more anxious. There are only a few people visible on the streets. Most of these people are setting up shops or stalls to prepare for the crowds that’ll inevitably suffocate these streets within mere hours, but it’s not the people who make you nervous. It’s the festive decorations that have been put up.

More than once, you realized it had been a celebration for the Creator, so you can only hope no one will recognize you while your face is pasted on every corner of Liyue.

Paimon, who’s been floating next to you, turns her head to the side. “Paimon thinks you don’t have to worry. Remember the lady who was with Rex Lapis when he gave you the gnosis?”

You nod. If you hadn’t been as caught up in your world you probably would’ve spent more time observing her, but it was hard to forget a face like hers. She looked familiar.

“Well, she’s the Qixing’s Tianquan, Ningguang. From the Jade Chamber above, she is aware of every confidential meeting, every private conversation, and every new visitor to the city! A storyteller once told Paimon that she enchanted the Jade Chamber in a way that allows her to eavesdrop on everyone in the city's private conversations.”

Paimon visibly shudders after her own story. She wraps her arms around her body as she floats forward. “Though Paimon hopes that the last part is wrong. Anyways, she’ll surely find us like the traveller said.”

“Not to mention the geo Archon himself,” Lumine adds. “It’s only a matter of time. We just have to be confident it’s either one of them noticing us, and not the Fatui.”

As the three of you continue to walk through the harbor, you notice that Lumine never takes a shortcut and actively goes out of her way to remain in the public eye. A few people already recognized her and have waved in her direction, greeting the traveller and Paimon as they pass the stalls that seemingly appear out of nowhere.

While it makes you uncomfortable, you realize Lumine is doing all of this on purpose. She’s actively putting herself in the spotlight while making sure you remain in her shadows. All to get the attention of the people you’ve been trying to reach.

And while Lumine had mentioned the Fatui before, you had foolishly forgotten any enemies you could’ve made during your stay in Teyvat. After all, it wasn’t long ago that a whole nation had decided you were an imposter and tried to cause an uproar because of it.

Perhaps your comfort had been the exact reason why someone was able to grab hold of your arm and force your body into the dark ally.

You hear Paimon yell before you can, the sharp movement of a sideways pull makes you feel as if you’re being dashed forward and successfully takes the breath out of your lungs, making you unable to scream for help.

A hand gently but firmly replaces its hold on your forearm. It guides you to the side and you’re certain you’ll fall—until you don’t. For some reason, your attacker tries to steady you, making sure you don’t tumble forward or hurt yourself.

Your heart races against your ribcage and your breaths are shallow and fast. One moment you’re close to feeling safe in public and then you’re back into danger, or so you assume.

You blink a few times, slowly getting adjusted to the darkness.

“Xiao?”

Dark hair with teal undertones frames a pale face that homes a serious expression. Out of everyone, you hadn’t expected to see him today. While the situation he put you in was questionable, you trusted him.

His golden eyes move over your form until they hastily land on Lumine who now stands at the front of the entrance to the alley, her swords sheathed and appearing equally as confused and alarmed as you by the situation. She takes a step forward, hesitating to attack but determined enough to keep you safe if needed.

“You’re being followed.” Xiao’s warning is directed towards Lumine and his voice is a tone colder than it used to be in past conversations—there’s an unfamiliar sharp edge underneath his words. Xiao eyes something you can’t see.

You finally register his words.

“Wait what? Who? ”

“The Fatui.” Lumine spats the words out, catching on quicker than you do. Her voice is close to venom and she turns her body around to face the assumed stalker. Because of her reply, you’re certain she already knew the identity of the one following her.

You try to turn your head towards the scene but with the way Xiao holds you, it’s impossible to fully capture what’s going on—and more importantly—who the person might be. You rely on your hearing to fill in the blank spaces.

As you focus, you hear footsteps rapidly approaching. “Wait. Why would anyone,–” You struggle in Xiao’s protective hold, still trying to turn your head, and unlike what you’re willing to do, Xiao spends no time waiting to see who comes around the corner.

Your vision darkens. It’s pitch black for a moment, and then a sharp light blinds you. You instinctively grip Xiao's arm for support, and in return, he holds you closer to his body.

Teleporting three times ever since arriving in Teyvat, you’ve grown accustomed to the feeling. Still, it takes you a second before your surroundings stop spinning.

“Xiao, you need to go back.” With a sense of urgency and desperation you look around, noting both the absence of Lumine and Paimon through your spinning vision. Alarm seeps through your words, “You need to bring me back.”

The Yaksha gapes and then closes his mouth. He’s holding out his arms as if he’s waiting for you to fall forward, or to comfort you, you’re not certain. Either way, he’s not helping you in this situation—he is not helping Lumine or Paimon.

“Please, Xiao. If the Fatui were following us it’d be my fault.”

A mocking laugh echoes through the room. “I highly doubt that.” The feminine voice sneers and you feel the room grow colder. As the woman continues to talk, you hear her smile through her voice. She continues to mock you. “Why, our Creator? Because it was I who ordered them to stop chasing your little friends. On behalf of the Tsaritsa, of course.”

You turn away from Xiao and towards the platinum-blonde woman standing next to Zhongli. Behind her, you see two people in what you recognize as fatui clothing. You take a moment to look her up and down. Her stance radiates confidence to a degree where it borders arrogance instead of intimidation. Her blond hair falls over her right shoulder and a black mask covers the same half of her face. When your eyes move to inspect her clothing, you first notice the elegant dress that morphs from a white color to a mix of pale brown and greyish color. It hugs her figure and it stands in contrast with the crimson-red colors of her sleeves, and what you assume to be, the cape that hangs over her shoulders.

It is only after you’re done with looking her over that you realize the cloak had fallen from your head and thus had revealed your own face. Light grey eyes are busy inspecting you in the same way you inspected her, though she seems to be far quicker with making her judgment. In one quick swoop, she eyes your character before her eyes remain stuck on your torso.

“So that’s where the gnosis went.” The woman chuckles once more and you intuitively hold the small object closer to your figure, desperately trying to shield it away.

“Relax, Creator .” She calls out your title in a mocking way, “The Tsaritsa already called everyone back. I no longer have use for it.”

“Who are you?” You spat out in response to her sardonic jab.

Her face changes at your question, and her expression is unlike anything you’ve seen from her in the past minute. Your words had genuinely amused her.

“Never heard of the Fatui Harbingers before? I must admit, I’m a bit embarrassed.” Her confidence replaces any kindness or pity you might’ve seen in that short moment of genuinity, and you frown in response.

Xiao shifts behind you and it’s a hard reminder that you weren’t alone in the room. Your eyes glance over from the woman to Zhongli, who lightly tilts his head in response to your recognition.

“La Signora,“ He lifts a hand and gestures it towards the woman next to him. “Is the Eight of The Eleven Fatui Harbingers. They are acquainted with the Tsaritsa, or as you know her, the cryo Archon.“

Your mind gets stuck in a moment of stupid clarity.

Right. I am the Creator. I should know the Archons.

And despite your better judgment, you ask the Harbinger;

“The cryo Archon, no–, the Tsaritsa. Do you… does she know about my memories? Are you here to help?“

The eyes of La Signora widen and you realise you startled her with your question. Of all things, she had not expected this. That much was obvious to anyone in the room.

Like La Signora, the two Fatui guards behind her stiffen up. They share a glance of confusion as they remain on one knee behind the Harbinger.

“Your… memories?” The blonde woman in front of you squints her eyes. Her voice is uncertain and she seems to test the words in her mouth.

While her smile remains, you can sense the mask behind her faux confidence as she ponders over your question about your lost memories.

You’re glad to know neither Zhongli nor Xiao had mentioned your memory problems to her. At least they give you control over who to share it with and who not, though, that raises the question of why she was here originally.

You turn your head to Zhongli. You feel like a fish out of the water so you instinctively try to chase comfort in his presence. “We were searching for you. Well, technically we were searching for the Qixing to contact you– what I’m trying to say is .” You take an inhale so the following words don’t come out in the wrong way. “I wanted to talk to you about, well, everything.”

Zhongli nods urging you silently to continue without a care for the others in the room.

“I’ve been trying to get my memories from the gnosis but after spending literal days staring at it in frustration, I feel like it’s only getting worse.” I feel as if I’m losing my mind.

You clutch the gnosis a bit tighter in your hand. Soft vibrations echo through your body and it steadies you.

You speak with more confidence, “I want to know why I’m here. I want to know who I am.”

Zhongli takes a calculated breath, “I’d prefer it if we were to discuss this in a more private setting, your Grace. That is if you don’t mind.”

You shake your head. “Not at all. I probably shouldn’t’ve assumed the Harbingers or the Tsaritsa to know.”

With Zhongli’s request for privacy, you wonder if the woman had been better off not knowing about your situation. In the corner of your eyes, you can see thoughts race behind her cold eyes. Either way, word is bound to reach the Tsaritsa sooner or later. Your memories won’t become better without a solution, so you’re not bothered by this revelation. If anything, it might prompt the cryo Archon to answer your questions and recover your memory if possible.

“La Signora.” Zhongli addresses the woman with an intimidating undertone. She snaps out of her thoughts and her confidence returns in the blink of an eye.

She snaps her fingers and the two fatui members stand up straight behind her.

“It seems like our mission is finished here.” She doesn’t seem to address anyone in particular but the Fatui members respond with a simple, ‘Yes, lord Harbinger’.

“Creator–” She calls out your title with less mockery than before, “it was a pleasure to meet you.”

You mirror her words, realizing that it was the first time she had truthfully told you what had been on her mind. Whether for good or bad, she would not forget this interaction anytime soon.

And so, La Signora makes her exit. She doesn’t waste time with any more pleasantries and disappears almost as fast as you had appeared. When the doors close behind her, the tense atmosphere dissipates as well.

With the stressful situation out of the way, your mind instinctively moves to observe the unfamiliar room you had been teleported into.

Your gaze glides across the room. You are greeted by a warm and strangely familiar atmosphere. The room has the same style as the one in the inn, but it radiates more luxury and wealth, almost to an exaggerated point.

The deep orange hues from the lights above dominate the room, casting a soft golden glow on everything it touches and complimenting the golden lining in the wooden cabinets, desks, and chairs. Aside from the obvious golden details nearly everywhere in the room, the other furniture exudes an air of luxury and sophistication, not unexpected—considering Zhongli seems to be using it as his office right now.

Everything seems to be carefully placed with a purpose.

Wooden screens divide the room, hiding you from the maids and workers walking around and giving you some privacy with the Archon and yaksha. And as you move your head around further, your eyes fall onto the silk tapestries that are suspended from the ceiling. They depict important historical figures and events in Liyue. When you look closer, you see a figure that seems to represent you.

Zhongli walks up to you.

He smiles as he follows your line of sight. "I admit that Miss Ningguang has exquisite taste when it comes to decorating. The line between modern and antique furniture overlaps in a tasteful way, and yet nothing seems to be out of place."

"Wait, is that you, Xiao?" You point to a specific silk tapestry in the room.

Xiao follows your pointed finger. The picture depicts you and Xiao, along with four other people you fail to recognize. It takes him a second to reply, "Yes."

"Do you recall any of these moments?" Zhongli, who remains at your side, asks you with care.

“I recognize myself. It’s difficult not to. Aside from the clothes, it’s exactly how I appear right now. I also recognize you and Xiao, but the other people in the pictures aren’t familiar.”

Zhongli's expression remains neutral, as if he anticipated your answer. ''It's no surprise that you recognize yourself. Every single one of these tapestries depicts significant events throughout the history of Liyue, in which you played a major part.''

You hesitate, “In a way, they feel familiar, but I’m unable to remember what happened or who the other people are. All I know for certain is that these events happened, even if it’s merely a feeling.’’

“In that case, Would you like to sit down?” Zhongli places a hand on the small of your back. “If you have time I’ll be able to tell the stories behind each tapestry.”

You reply, “I would like to, but I can’t stay here. Not while I know that Lumine and Paimon are both looking for me. I hope nothing bad happened after I left.” You look at Xiao. “I am confused though.”

Xiao hesitantly speaks out, “Your Grace?”

You continue; “You said it was the Fatui who were following us? Does that mean that the woman— La Signora —was lying?”

Zhongli lets out a deep chuckle. “I apologize, your Grace. It appears the situation might’ve grown a bit confusing as a result of my actions.”

You look up at him, waiting for him to explain.

“In the past, I was approached by La Signora to make a deal with the Tsaritsa. My final contract. However given the unexpected change in our situation, the contract was deemed void. Upon further instructions from the Tsaritsa, La Signora was ordered to cease operation within Liyue and return to Snezhnaya with the other Harbinger who is also staying in Liyue.”

Zhongli glances over to Xiao as he speaks, “I assume it was the Eleventh who acted independently and continued to follow the traveller despite his new orders?”

The yaksha nods, confirming Zhongli’s words.

“But isn’t that a dangerous situation for Lumine and Paimon?” You ask.

“I assume by now that the Harbinger will have put all the given information together and realized why the mission was canceled and he was recalled. Confronting the traveller was the final push he needed to realize the truth.”

ㅤ

You lift an eyebrow, unsure why he held you in suspense. “The truth being…?”

ㅤ

“A bigger purpose, you, the Creator. ’’

If you liked this chapter and think I deserve a comment, please leave one behind! I appreciate it a lot and it'll make me more motivated to write in the future ♡

#sagau #sagau x reader #kaeya x reader #lumine x reader #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #sagau isekai #isegau #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #xiao #kaeya alberich #lumine #zhongli

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johnnys-breastmilk · 10 months

Text

what are you doing, step-bro? | steve harrington x reader

a/n — something short to get out of that slump! title isnt serious just the inspo behind the fic, enjoy!

words — 1.9k

summary — After a close encounter in the tunnels with the Demo-dogs, Steve finds you in a defenseless position.

warnings — reader is stuck in a "wall", anal, dirty talk, y'all know the drill by now, biblically accurate hairy steve harrington!

~~~

“Guys? Help!”

What had been an easy mission for the Party—traversing the tunnels under Hawkins to cover as much of it with gasoline—didn’t come easy for you. You found yourself buddied up with Steve, who suggested that the two of you split up when you hit a fork in the road. It made sense, each of you had a tank of gasoline, and there seemed to be no presage of danger in either path.

Then came the time when you ran out of something to douse the infected trails with, and you used your walkie, an old and unreliable TRC-206 model, to let the rest of the group know that you were on your way back to their designated meeting place. While retracing your steps, you heard a screech come from the direction you were heading back to. Your eyes darted for a place to hide, and in the dark, bluish-black tunnels, you spotted a faint red glow coming from the tunnel’s wall to your left. You darted to it, assuming that it had to lead to a little divot or room that the creature couldn’t get to. In some long stretch of your willfulness, it led to the tunnel Steve went down and you could get him to fend the alien off. It was a shot in the dark but maybe it would hit the creature head-on and confuse it long enough to save your ass from becoming an otherworldly snack.

You felt like a mouse scampering to its burrow in the night when something stirs.

But the hole was too small, and even though you could fit your upper half in, it was a struggle to get it out. You were embedded into the wall. The rest of your body was stuck on the outside of the thing you now knew to be a portal, as the air and view reflected the stories that members of the Party had shared with you—all of them being their experiences with the Upside Down. Tufted spores floated around you and reacted to your panicked breathing. You tried several times to free yourself but knew it was impossible thanks to the welling of gasoline at your feet, making it impossible to get a solid footing on the ground.

Every channel laid dormant—static being returned as you waited for an answer. Distant calls of the same monster you heard in the tunnel echoed around you here. Footsteps approached, but they were lighter, more focused, and less sporadic like an animal charging at its food. It was the human kind of gait as only two steps could be heard every second or so.

You should have known that splitting up would mean an awkward reunion. You felt at ease when Steve’s voice was the one coming from behind you. He was still in the real world and could pull you back into it. “Hey—jeez, what happened?”

“Steve, thank fuck. I tried hiding from one of those demo-monsters and got stuck. Watch out, it might still be out there.”

“I didn’t see anything, but I don’t want to wait in here to be proven wrong.” Steve shrugged off his backpack and let it hit the ground. The sound of an empty canister of gasoline rang through the tunnel.

“Get me out of here and we can handle it together, at least.” You swore Steve could have agreed, but the worlds-apart separation made some things he said unclear.

Steve spread his stance out to get as close as possible whilst not getting his shoes muddied from the infected soil and gasoline mixture at your feet. His hands—gloved and still coated with moisture and bits of dirt—took ahold of the bottom of your torso just about where the hem of your jeans hugged your body. At first, he tried pulling, a lot of pulling. When you didn’t budge, he got closer and pressed as much of himself as he could against you to find some leverage.

“C’mon…” He groaned. “I’ve never dealt with something this tight before…”

He wasn’t ready to accept defeat, not yet. There was no way in hell he would leave you stuck in the wall, Steve was firm on that. He couldn’t help but feel like he was trying to help a square that actually fit through a circular hole. Steve knew he wasn’t too far off, they were already in a place they didn’t belong in, and this tunnel system must have had passageways for creatures that surely weren’t human. As expected, his countless efforts to pull you back didn’t work.

Steve reached under you, pushing up the layers on your upper half and undoing the button on your jeans. His gloves gave him a bit of trouble but he undid it nonetheless. Cold air ruminated on your skin in all the places where your jeans used to be. You couldn’t see what he had done, but you could feel it and felt the sudden urge to ask.

“What are you doing?” The sensation of fabric layered over itself, irregularly touching you around only your shins and lower let you know he had pulled any sort of protection over your bottom half down.

“Maybe if I loosen you up, rock you back and forth a little, you’ll slip right out? It’s the right kind of movement we need, and it’ll be more fun than doing it clothed, restricting ourselves, yeah?” Steve stepped away, the heat coming off of him and onto you following him back. It wasn’t really Steve that was the issue. No, it was the situation. The noise, the heat signature—if it could read that—would be potential giveaways to your not-so-successful hiding spot.

Your view on it didn’t change, “All I need is your help, Steve.”

“All you needed was a chance to spread your legs for me and you’d do it.” The faint sound of a belt buckle, then a zipper, then the two falling in tandem play out one by one. You couldn’t see it, but he was cupping himself in his one hand. When a tent formed, he stroked himself through his boxers.

What else could you do but insist on him to quit playing games, “Just help me out, Steve.”

His presence ghosted over you again, some of his leg hair gently bristling against your own skin. His boxers must have been gone by this point, though you couldn’t be sure. “I have to help myself, first.”

“This is kind of your fault since you got me all distracted. You couldn’t go crawling in the opposite direction? Well, if it had to be your mouth I’m stuck with…” You felt a smack to your ass. His gloves were gone, probably thrown to the floor and pulled off with his mouth so he could easily send his hand flying down against your markable skin. “But this is even better.”

Steve was his own shade of red and monstrous. His cock, hot and heavy, could faintly be seen as a raging red in the soft blue glow in the underbelly of Hawkins. Blood rushed to the place he struck with his palm the same way it did to his dick. He was fully hard, and you were still solid enough to stay in place—even with his giddyap smack. Then a sharp pain—more painful than a claw or tooth from one of those Demo-demons piercing the outer layers of your body—darted throughout your body. Steve invited himself in, entered without knocking. If there was a name for a rude intrusion, it would describe the pain in your backside perfectly. You thought that he might have done something, anything to prepare you for his home-runner.

There was nothing except some pooling pre-come that had barely formed enough to cover his tip; the friction at your entrance could have been enough to start a fire then and there. A clash of feelings followed by his roughness. Both were deadly combinations with gasoline surrounding your steps, something that you were only reminded of when he entered you and made your legs shake.

He found the gas to be an easy thing to work around, finding the right footing to swing his hips in the motion he claimed would fix it all. Inch by inch, he pushed himself in and hoped that you would move with every inch he pulled out and pushed himself back in. You felt your world shift. One moment, you were jolting forward as he slammed into you, the world of the Upside Down feeling like it was leaping toward you. The next, it felt like that world was slipping away.

Steve moaned, the sound of it channeling through the barrier between the both of you. “I could loo—oh—ook at you like this all day. Just a cumdump for me.”

There was a sensibility in his words—you could be stuck for a while until the Party got shovels, excavators, whatever they needed to get you out of this mess. Until then, you could be all his and have very little power to stop him.

You tried to ground yourself in his world, how Steve felt, specifically. Maybe the thought of being back in that world would make the one you were partly stuck in show pity, if it could understand such a thing in its laws of nature. Steve was hairy, and his pubes tickled your ass when he pressed himself deep into you. His hands were a bit clammy, cold and sweaty from gripping onto you and dealing with the chill inside the tunnels. Notably, he still wore his jacket and shirt, the zipper of the jacket grazing over you with every thrust.

The zipper seemed to disappear, though, like Steve had raised his arm. And sure enough, while you couldn’t see it, he had placed a hand on the soil-like substance that the wall of the tunnel was made out of for support. His other hand came down to strike your ass, sending a harsh smacking sound through the burrow.

When you started to move less and less, the view of the world around you growing still, you could almost tell that Steve was losing his patience. He was ready to come. His intention came true as Steve gave a few final, slow plunges into you and flooded your ass with stickier webbing than what you had pushed through to get into the second world. After the sensation of it all died down for the two of you, you realized that his so-called plan barely worked.

“I haven’t moved an inch!” If anything, he fucked you further into the other world. “Tell me you're done so you can go get some actual help.”

“Not yet, I love seeing you like this, and I’ll be nice…”

You felt your pants and everything slide up your body, being lazily adjusted back into place as they had been when Steve found you. You could feel yourself leaking with his come, getting your underwear wet with him. The faint sounds of his shuffling resounded behind you, and after a moment, he smacked your ass, “Don’t go anywhere! I’ll be back with help!”

#stranger things #x male reader #x reader #gay #steve harrington x male reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x male!reader #joe keery x y/n #joe keery x reader #joe keery #stranger things x reader #stranger things x male reader

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harrieatthemet · 1 year

Text

Vulnerable

in which Harry’s sensitive and you’re completely undressed.

He’d prefer if you stayed.

It’s his ideal perception of comfort; the warmth oozing from the usually unoccupied side of his bed, a faded essence of vanilla perfume tied in with a bit of rose oil shampoo, the amenity of another body lethargically intertwined with his.

Bouncing back and forth between one place to another, one city to the next; it’s inconsistent. And for a while, inconsistency worked. He had nestled himself comfortably into the odd routine of inconsistency. That’s what the bulk of his foundation in larger areas of life was built off of, and you were no exception.

“Casual,” and he used the word exactly months ago, “let’s keep it casual.”

He knows what happens when he puts his hand to the flame; he gets burned. He’s learned that lesson the hard way once. And again after that, and once or twice more after that. Casual meant there wasn’t any real need for consistency. Keeping a relationship with you as casual as possible seemed like the best fit; one that made sense.

At least, back then it did. All that coming and going, late night text messages, sporadic sleepovers after over indulging on wine and really shitty romantic comedies, it became consistent. 2 minute phone calls every now and then turned into one, sometimes two hours at least once a day. He’s caught himself checking his phone so that he doesn’t miss a text. He’s not used to consistent. This, however, is the type of consistency he’s becoming quite fond of.

“5 more minutes,” he’s barely gotten his eyes open but his hands are awake, pulling you a little closer to him, “s’all we need, yeah? Just 5.. maybe 10.”

There’s a content flutter purring in his chest when you hum in response, your body readjusting as he slinks an arm over your waist. He’s not ready to draw the blinds yet. There’s a straggling strip of outside light that's fighting it’s way through the gap in the drapes. It’s got to be well into the afternoon by now, but he doesn’t wanna check his phone to confirm. Instead he just pulls you closer; he’d rather stay here, like this, instead.

“Mm,” the scruff from his chin brushes up against the back of your neck when you hum, “I wish I could.”

“Don’t wish,” he giggles, “just do.”

He frowns when he feels you peel your body away, a small gust of cool air hitting his bare stomach when you tussle the sheets off and sit up. And he watches forlornly from his spot; admiring the way he his shirt hangs on you.

“I can’t,” you’re whine is playful as you snatch your pants up from the floor, “I’ve got a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Mhm,” you assure, “a date thing.”

It’s like a punch to the gut. The words coming out of your mouth put a bad taste in his. He doesn’t even wanna talk about it beyond this point. Ignorance really is bliss, but the curiosity will eat away at him if he doesn’t try to dig a little deeper.

“Been seein’ him long?” He’s glad your back is to him because you can’t see the worry in his face.

“Oh yeah,” that’s one more punch to the gut; he was hoping you’d say no, “we’re getting married on our date tonight.”

“What??”

“Harry,” your laugh is muffled as you tug your shirt over your head, “m’fucking with you.”

His shoulders drop a bit before he sits up in the bed. Watching you get dressed has always been one of those things he enjoyed; teasing you about outfit choices, making remarks about how he should take it all off again. 90% of the time he actually does end up taking everything off again. But this time just fucking sucks. You’re not getting dressed to go back to your place; you’re getting dressed to go back to someone else’s place. At least, that’s where his mind is taking him.

You’ve still got him all over you; a little bit surely still lingering inside of you. This no-named competitor might get to touch you like he did just minutes ago. He wonders if he knows all your best spots, whisper in your ear, hold you while you sleep. Is he gonna kiss you the way you like, run fingers down your spine until you hum in content. Can this guy please you like he can? Does he know that the the little indent above your right knee is from when you fell off your bike as a kid? Does he know you sleep with two pillows and not one? You can’t sleep with one pillow; Harry always keeps an extra one freshly fluffed for you when you spend the night. Which, evidently enough, has become more frequent than not.

“So deep in thought, eh?” You tease, “What’s going on up there?”

He smirks briefly when you extend your pointer finger towards his head, swirling it around as though you’re mimicking his jumbled thoughts. He’s got no right to pry. After all, the groundwork of the terms regarding the dynamic between the two of you were his idea. God is he regretting that now. The idea of another man knowing you at all makes his stomach hurt, let alone knowing you the way he does.

“Oh m’not,” he shrugs, idle hands twirling the loose sheet on his bed, “s’nothing.”

“Going once.. going twice.. give me something, Har.”

With your hands on your hips; expression playful, eyebrow cocked and breath baited in anticipation, he’s realizing that now might be better than ever to speak up. The answer to every unasked question is no, after all.

His mind is racing with the worst of thoughts. He doesn’t want you to leave at all. Especially if you leave now to meet with the embrace of any other man except him. It’s not a possessive thing. Part of what makes him so feral and drawn to you is how open and genuine you are with the everyone you know.

“This guy,” he trails, “I mean- like is this a date?”

“You writing a book or something?” You chuckle.

“No.”

He knows that was a joke. It wasn’t his intention to answer so seriously and he wishes so badly he could take that knee jerk reaction back. The look on your face falls and so does his heart; right into his fucking stomach. The energy of the once playful banter is ripped right out from beneath the both of you and now it’s just uncomfortable.

“Yeah..” Your tone wanders as you look for your socks, “3rd one, I’m pretty sure. Why?”

There’s about an infinite amount of ways he could match that question. One of them being just high pitched screaming from frustration. Not even with any words, just endless agonizing groaning on a loop. Christ, the thought of it all just makes him want to melt into the mattress and become nothing. In theory he should’ve just kept his mouth shut and suffered in silence while he waited for the next time you texted or called. But he’s dug himself so deep playing 50 questions with you that there’s no point in retreating. He’s doubling down now; all or nothing.

“Know him well?” He spits out.

“Well enough.. still getting to know him a bit.”

“S’good,” he feels it coming, the word vomit and he just can’t stop it from pooling on his tongue, “knows you like I know you?”

If he was religious he’d start praying to God, any one of them, that you answer with a firm no. How could anyone know you like Harry knows you? He’s convinced that it isn’t possible. This morning, when he was wrapped up with you in a fresh set of linens sheets, he’d be so sure that nobody else had intimate access to you like he does; sexually and emotionally. Right now though, he’s starting to do something he seldom does; second guess himself. Maybe he was naive to be so sure before.

“Not gonna put all my cards on the table just yet,” oh how badly he feels like dying when you talk all confused like that at him, “but yeah. I mean, I guess.”

You think of how silly that question is. Why would he ask that? Everyone you know gets the same version of you; honest, open, and real easy going. You’re an open book and your relationships are all reflective of that. You are who you are, proudly and comfortably. So yes, of course he does.

And all he’s thinking is how desperately he wants to rewind to 15 minutes ago when he wasn't the only naked person in the room. He just wants you to get back in bed; stay with him a little bit until he feels like the only one again. Turmoil and anger coincide with one another as it bubbles in his stomach, metastasizing before it becomes so unavoidable that he can feel it in the pit of his throat.

“Hm,” the sarcasm and bitterness in his tone is so goddamn thick, “lucky him than, yeah? Have fun, m’s real happy fo’ you.”

“Ok...” and he can tell by your voice that you’re offended, “I’d say thank you but that felt more like an insult.”

Your jeans still aren’t buttoned and now that you’ve slid your shirt back on, he notices that your arms are folded over your chest as well. He doesn’t like the look on your face. It’s like you’re accusing him of something. And he really doesn’t like that the shirt you slept in, his shirt, is in a ball at the foot of his bed.

“Can take it however y’want,” he answers flatly, “not sure how that’s my problem.”

“Well what is your fucking problem?”

You’ve never taken that tone with him before. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this cross before in general. He knows for sure you’ve never been this cross with him. It’s frustrating that you’re lagging in an attempt to catch up to the very obvious point he’s trying to make. The only easier route to take would be to flat out tell you how he’s completely hooked on you. He doesn’t want to do that though, not right now.

What’s his problem? Are you genuinely that dense? Oblivious? His problem is you and how, against all odds, have become a crucial influence on whether or not he’s having a good day. His problem is if he doesn’t hear from you after a while, he gets grumpy. He hates waking up and rolling over to the left side of his bed made up and untouched. That’s where he wants you to be sleeping. All the time.

His problem is you’re leaving to be with someone that isn't him.

“He knows you like I do?” he reiterates, “Fat fuckin chance.”

“Harry you of all people know that I’m-”

“Shy?” he’s talking over you now because he’s completely lost all motor control between his mouth and his brain, “I know y’shy. Know that y’do tha’ little thing with y’lip, when you’re reading or real focused on something. Y’hum in the shower and, I never said this but it’s bloody fucking annoying sometimes ‘cos it’s off key. S’off key ‘n I almost like it.”

You blinked; face flat and arms fallen to the side. All you could do was blink. And he wants to stop. God, he wants to stop talking so bad but this is your fault. You got him started so he has to keep going.

“I know y’favorite pair of socks- those hideous fuzzy green ones with th’hole in ‘em.”

He’s standing upright, now. How he got here, two feet planted on the ground with less distance between the two of you than two minutes ago; he’s not sure. There’s no specific expression on your face for him to pinpoint, so he considers edging himself a little closer towards where you’re standing. Until he’s right in front you, about to wave his white flag when he manages to break your blank stare and lock eyes

“Knows how y’like to be touched?” he’s brought his voice down a few octaves now, his index finger grazing over the undone button of your jeans, “knows.. how to get y’off? Like I do?”

His eyelids are low, pupils blown as he peers down at you. A finger of his tucks away a stray piece of your hair before it embarks on a mindless journey; grazing your jaw before before he places it strategically under your chin. Then he lifts it. He’s giving you no choice but to look at him when he asks you.

“Do y’wanna know him,” he sighs, “th’same way y’know me?”

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icallhimjoey · 11 months

Text

short bit of writing to help me process a deeply personal current situation - slight chance more of these will pop up in the upcoming few days as i move through all of what needs moving through Wordcount: 1.2K

---

Suddenly Gone

“Hey, it’s me, let me in,”

It sets you off immediately, face scrunching up and everything tensing from your stomach up until it builds too much and sobs slip out. You hold the buzzer down and see in the intercom how Joe needs to turn to push the door open with his shoulder. He’s carrying bags of shopping and, fucking hell, you’d just stopped crying and calmed down enough to maybe go for a big food shop yourself.

It’s been tears and tears and tears. In stupid places. Normal places too.

Just, all over, really.

It's waking up and crying over breakfast because you forgot for the first twenty minutes of the day. It’s yoghurt slowly going salty because you suddenly remembered.

It’s wet cheeks after seeing initials hidden on a number plate when parking outside a supermarket.

It’s kindly unaccepted apologies as you try to croak through a bunch of them for not being able to answer the phone with an unhitched voice.

It's dark clouds but somehow also sunbeams that break through sporadically, because isn’t it all so stupid? Seeing something that you know they would find hilarious, and instead of it making you laugh, it does the exact opposite?

It's stupid.

It’s also people offering and offering and offering.

“Let me know if I can do anything!”

“If there’s anything I can do...”

“Call me whenever, all’s fine, just let me know,”

But you don’t even know what needs doing. What you want. What you need. You know, besides distraction. And your fridge filled. But, that’s weird to ask. It’s polite for people to say nice things but what do you actually ask for? What do you say without burdening someone? Do you just text? With words?

“Hey,”

Bags get put down and you quickly find yourself stood in an embrace, arms wrapped with tenderness and strength, pulling you into a safe haven of solace. Encircled in his arms and surrounded in his warmth, a cocoon of security is created. You’re protected. Understood. Shielded from all the absolute shit that’s found you over the past couple of days.

“How was today?” Joe speaks into your hair.

“Long,”

Leaning into the hug more, Joe allows you a brief respite from the heavy weight of grief. It’s difficult to feel vulnerable for such a long time, for so many consecutive hours. Really drains you.

“Did you get everything sorted?”

“Nearly,”

You feel emotions surge once more, but Joe remains steadfast in his hold. Stable anchor in the storm, keeping the whole ship from drifting, from tipping, from sinking.

You stand there for a long time, and when you start to think of the bags on the floor that hold items that might need a fridge or a freezer, you also notice that the tightness in your chest has eased. Breaths have become deeper.

Joe notices the shift, and pulls back, but only to use both hands to cup your face and connect with you beyond arms embracing and bodies being pushed together.

“Funeral’s Monday,”

And fuck off, just saying wild crazy insane outrageous shit like that gets you. Makes you tense your mouth to keep the whole thing from wobbling, but corners get pulled down as far as they can go anyway. Makes you frown hard to somehow try to keep tears from spilling, which obviously, they do anyway.

Joe uses his thumbs to swipe. Kisses just below your eyes. Presses your head into the crease of his neck below his chin to hide you there, away form the world. Lets you burrow there.

The hug lasts a long time, and you try to convince yourself that it’s not too long. That Joe probably is glad that he gets to help by just holding you a couple of minutes. People keep saying they want to help, and that you just need to let them know.

It’s nice that Joe didn’t wait for you to ask for anything.

He’s just there.

Here.

“I brought food,” he says after a little while, and you’re reminded of the bags once more.

“I’m not hungry,”

It’s not a lie, but you know Joe won’t have it as an answer.

“That’s all right, you can just eat without feeling hungry,”

Kisses get pressed to your forehead, and after one last tight squeeze, bags get taken into the kitchen. You want to help, keep hands busy. Focus on a task. For a moment you’re scared Joe’s going to tell you to let him do it, to go sit down, but Joe knows. Distraction is a welcome temporary escape from overwhelming thoughts and emotions.

But it’s all tricky, isn’t it? It's all fickle things.

You don’t notice how deep you’re lost in thought until you get pulled from them by Joe taking the jar of spaghetti sauce from your grip. You’d been staring at it after pulling it from one of the bags.

“Oh, sorry,”

You watch Joe place it where it goes. You’re not even sure if it’s the brand that she liked, but she fucking loved spaghetti.

“Actually,” you stop Joe from closing the cabinet. “Can we do a bolognese tonight?”

Joe smiles, pulls the jar back from where he put it and leaves it out on the counter.

“Of course.”

Before you know it, there’s hot tears stinging the raw skin once again. And it’s so frustrating. Had you been alone, you would’ve called yourself a stupid bitch out loud because who the fuck cries over the prospect of dinner?!

But you’re not alone. Because Joe’s there, even though you hadn’t asked, hadn’t let him know like everyone asked you to in all their kind messages.

And so tears are just... they're just part of you now.

And you manage to not hate yourself for it.

S'okay.

And Joe doesn’t even really mention it which is exactly right.

“And can we do it with chicken instead of beef?”

“Absolutely,”

It’s how she liked it. Something about the texture of ground beef she hated.

“I know it’s weird,” you start, but before you can finish your sentence, Joe places a packet of diced chicken breast onto the counter.

It’s a gesture that shouldn’t get to you as much as it does, and yet...

“You ok?” Joe asks when Joe giving you want you want, the thing you asked for, has the opposite effect it would usually have – more tears instead of less.

“No,” you shake your head, big wet eyes looking into concerned ones.

“But I will be,”

You’re not sure if it’s happy tears, or maybe if you’re just tired and drained, but you know you’re right. Not all right. Not yet. But you will be. Joe’s there, with hugs and kisses and, you will be.

“S’just a lot,” you shrug, and Joe frowns at you, says, “Of course it is,” like he’s almost upset that you even have to say it. Like he doesn’t understand.

He does.

“But I’ll be fine,”

And he knows you’re right. Doesn't question it. Doesn't say shit anyone else would tell you, that you don't have to be, that you are allowed not to be. Accepts it for the truth, and says,

“But you'll be fine.”

And hearing it from him sets it in stone. Makes you smile, even if only for a second. You will be fine.

the end

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hopelessdelusional · 1 year

Text

Literally got a dream after i read this prompt, went insane, and then basically wrote a whole book

so it’s safe to say im obsessed

word count: 4K

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ─ ✩ ─⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Bakugou Katsuki is a hero.

He is a Pro Hero, number 2 to be in fact (damn Deku). He has made a living fighting battles and saving lives, jumping off roofs and flying in the sky. He is a real life super hero, putting his life in danger. Every morning he wakes up has to prepare himself for the things he may see that day. The blood he might shed, and the people he may not be able to save. He has learned to be fearless, never finding himself nervous when jumping into the fight.

And yet, he’s never felt more terrified right now.

He met you three years ago, after quite literally crashing right into the very studio you record your music. He was battling a woman who had the ability to make and control giant vines, and apparently are explosive-proof. Todoroki almost hit him with a blast of his shitty ice, making him turn to his so called “partner” and cuss him out. However, that gave the villain the chance to grab him, and send him flying.

Bakugou soon found himself miles away from the fight, as he had to use his quirk in order not to fall to his death. But as many know, his quirk is sporadic.

That is how he crash landed into your studio.

It hurt like hell sure, but when he opened his eyes and saw you standing over him with nothing but concern in your eyes, he instantly forgot the many injuries he gained. You were breathtaking, and not like anyone he had ever interacted with. You immediately made the terrified people in the studio help him up and you found the nearest first aid kit and fixed him up as best as you could before an ambulance came.

He was dazed, but you were so kind and made small talk. Bakugou had always been one to hate any type of small talk, but he loved every word that left your mouth. You were newly moved to Japan, some sort of opportunity came to you that you couldn’t turn down (Bakugou was severely concussed so a lot of what you said was a blur).

Bakugou does remember Mina and Kaminari mentioning you, playing your music whenever he came to either of their houses. You had such a unique voice, a bit raspy that caught the attention of millions of people. Surprisingly, also caught the attention to Bakugou, as he would play it during the rare nights when he’d be cooking alone in his kitchen. Your story telling was incredible, your lyrics were anything but bland. Making music about the bad and good exes you’ve had, your friends and family, your past, and even wrote songs about random characters your beautiful mind came up with. You always made sure to use all sorts of instruments, and the notes that you compacted into your songs never ceased to amaze Bakugou’s standards.

Now he was here, sitting on a table asking you all sorts of questions about you. Maybe it was the concussion, or maybe it was just your personality but Bakugou began to get addicted to you, never wanting you to stop talking.

“Here.”

You turned away from him, your hand leaving his knee instantly making him already miss the warmth of you as you shuffled through your bag.

He watched you with curiosity (and took the chance to shamelessly check out your ass) before you turned around with a newfound grin on your face. You were holding a pen, and he cocked an eyebrow at you, not understanding the excitement of this pen in your perfect hand. You walked back over to him, your perfume becoming addicting to him, and you gently grabbed his hand. You were making intense eye contact with him, and Bakugou suddenly felt…nervous? You smiled at the blush that rose on the hero’s face, before you clicked the pen and began to write something on his wrist.

Bakugou watched, feeling somewhat like a child, and once you finished and allowed him to look. He was pleasantly surprised to see your number on his arm.

His head instantly shot up, almost not believing this was happening.

“If I text this and it’s a scam, I’m gonna hunt you down.”

His gruff voice didn’t match the face he was making at you, and you threw your head back and laughed.

Once you caught your breath, you smiled at him, making him blush even more (he didn’t even know that was possible!).

“As fun as that would be, I promise that is in fact my home number. I would never trick my favorite pro hero like that.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw two paramedics walking through the door, ready to help him out of there. However, he chose to ignore them and smirk at you instead.

“Favorite eh?”

You giggled, still holding his hand.

“Don’t get too cocky mister, or else I’ll write a mean song about you.”

His grin widened, using his other hand to lead your hand to his lips. He gently kissed it, hating how chapped his lips were, but the blush that quickly appeared on your cute cheeks made it worth it.

“I’d rather the song have another meaning.”

The two of you held eye contact, and he soaked up every second of it not ever wanting to forget what color you eyes were.

You smiled at him before you turned to the paramedics that began to replace your presence. They helped him up, and walked him over to the bed that was rolled in by another paramedic. Once he was comfortable (as comfortable as someone with many broken ribs and a concussion could be) he looked back up at you. Bakugou was annoyed to see one of the paramedics talking nervously to you, asking for an autograph. However, the jealously slowly turned into admiration as he watched you beam at the man as you excitedly signed the crinkled piece of paper he had in his pocket.

“My daughter just adores your music, she started learning guitar because of you actually! It’s truly incredible watching her play, just makes me so proud of her.”

Your lip was pouted, as you stood listening to his words. You looked so genuine, so happy that he was telling you this. Bakugou could tell this means the world to you, watching you enthusiastically hugged him. The two of you quickly made your goodbyes, and you immediately turned to look his way. Bakugou would have been embarrassed that he was caught looking at you if you hadn’t beamed at him like that. You jogged over to him, making him chuckle how eager you were to be back in his presence. Bakugou instantly grabbed your empty hand again, not a single ounce of shame for how “down bad” he was acting.

“Talk to you later?”

Your voice couldn’t have been any louder than a whisper, making sure he knew these were words only for him to hear. Bakugou grinned, giving your hand a squeeze.

“Of course.”

Instead of one of your flashing smiles, your whole face softened and a small smile appeared on your face.

“In the meantime then, I’ll definitely be writing a song.”

That’s when Bakugou realized there was no coming back from you. He was officially obsessed, never wanting anything more than your hand in his.

Unfortunately for him, the two of you were rudely interrupted by the dumbass that got him here in the first place (not that Bakugou is complaining). Todoroki loudly coughed, making you jump and him scowl.

“I see you’re in good-“ his heterochromia eyes looked down at Bakugou and your interlocked hands, and then looked back up at Bakugou with a smirk.

“Good hands?”

Yeah, Bakugou definitely got teased for the rest of the day, and soon the rest of the week by all the people half-and-half told. But honestly? Bakugou couldn’t give two shits when had you texting him all day.

Besides, they were just jealous.

Kaminari and Mina especially lost their shit, begging for him to tell them all about you, even asking for your number. Obviously, Bakugou kindly told them to stop asking (he told them to fuck off and mind their fucking business) and soon enough the two of you began dating.

It was so easy being with someone like you. The two of you worked so well together, and you already understood the pressure of paparazzi constantly swarming you like hawks. Crazily enough, the reveal of you guys dating didn’t release until after your one year. Of course there were plenty of news articles and random fans on the internet who speculated it, but you interacted with enough people for your fans to also say you were dating them as well. Besides, the idea of you, an international singer/songwriter dating the number two hero in the world was not something that people could believe easily. But it was the truth, and people everywhere went crazy when you posted a picture of the two of you.

It was the picture of Bakugou picking you up by the waist in his kitchen. You were wearing his shirt and some random sweats because you had just gotten home from a concert the night before. Ochako was the one able to capture this beautiful moment of the couple. You had been teasing him for being able to cook but not bake, and he had enough of your jokes and simply picked you right off your feet. In the picture the both of you were smiling widely, especially Bakugou. When you posted the picture, fans analyzed the picture like crazy.

Bakugou knew he wasn’t the most well liked Pro-Hero, but the amount of people who tried to make a video showing the picture and claiming it was “obvious” that he was abusing you was a little annoying. You always reassured the blond when you caught him watching those videos, turning off his phone and climbing in his lap. His hands happily making his way on your waist as you ran your fingers through his hair while the other hand held his face gently. His eyes would close and you would whisper sweet nothings in his ear, praising him for anything and everything, sometimes even singing the songs you wrote for him.

Bakugou still remembers when the two of you were almost a year into the relationship (ten months and 6 days to be exact) and in the mist of him casually scrolling on TikTok a video of you performing at your concert popped up. He was certainly surprised to see videos already posted, since the concert had quite literally just ended. Obviously he watched the video, adoring how you talked to your fans.

“Now children, calm down so I can talk. I am not gonna talk over your borderline screaming, there’s no way in hell I’m gonna be able to sing after this if I talk like that.”

Bakugou snickered. He always loved when you were sassy and continued to watch.

“So whilst on tour, I’ve had a song stuck in my head,” the crowd went wild, probably thinking you were going to play one of your songs called “stuck in my head.” Your face lit up in realization, and you laughed at the mistake you made.

“Oh my poor babies, I’m so sorry but I am not playing that song.”

You gave your crowd an apologetic smile as they booed you. Bakugou’s eyebrows furrowed, upset as to why you were being booed, but continued to watch nonetheless.

“Oh my gosh get over yourself,” you rolled your eye waiting for the crowd to settle down before starting up again.

“I had like, this chorus just repeating itself over and over again. It was so annoying y’all! I felt like I was going crazy! And what made it even more annoying is that I couldn’t go to my safe place and sit down and write it cus-“

You gestured to your surroundings.

“-I’m on tour.”

The crowd went wild for longer than Bakugou liked, but you let them get it out, shaking your head like you were disappointed but the smile gave you away.

“Instead I had to settle with my oh so very empty tour bus bed, and write the song there. It was literally like, what? 3AM? And I was sitting on that bed with my guitar, notebook, and my laptop. I’m so glad I wasn’t sharing or like in a hotel because I was up until 5…”

You bent over to laugh, and the audience as well. Meanwhile, your now very grumpy boyfriend was about to close the app and text you not to do shit like that. You put on full fledge concerts for crying out loud! You should not be staying up that late just to write a goddamn song.

“And that was last night.”

The concert booed as Bakugou’s patience started to thin. What the hell were you thinking? You even texted him goodnight at like 2! Rest is very important and you need to-

“But I’m glad that I did, because I think this is my new favorite song. And I just can’t wait anymore, so is it okay if I play it for you guys?”

The crowd literally went feral. The person recording was screaming along with every goddamn person at that place. Bakugou was now fully sitting up in his bed, eager to listen to this song. He was a little hurt, he will admit. You always send him a video of the many songs that you write sporadically on this tour, and you’ve written a lot. So why didn’t you do the same thing here? What was so different about this song that he couldn’t be the first to hear it like usual?

“That sounds like a yes,” you reached for one of the many necklaces you were wearing and pulled out a very thin necklace with a familiar pendant. Bakugou immediately recognized it, as it was the one he got for you on your six month anniversary. It was one of the petals of a rose that you saved from your first date. He had it dried and put into a charm of a necklace when he noticed you getting upset that you couldn’t keep the flowers he got you. When he gave it to you, tears were falling down your face as he kissed you. That’s when he swore to himself that if he met any of your exes he wouldn’t leave without giving them a brand new scar.

You pulled it out and kissed it gently, before whispering into it.

“This is for you baby.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened, the crowd losing their minds and you started playing guitar. The two of you would make the smallest hints that you were in a relationship, but never as bold as this. Not that he was complaining.

Secretly he had been wanting to let the public know that you were dating, he wanted everyone to know you were his and he was yours. He was honestly sick of seeing people “ship” him with extras and he especially hated when the same happened to you.

He’s good for my heart but he’s bad for business

Tears me apart when he grants my wishes

All of my friends think I’ve gone crazy

But they don’t know me like my baby~

Bakugou remembers that moment like it was yesterday. His face instantly blossomed a bright blush, and his lips formed a soft smile. The crowd finally settled down after the beginning and he was able to listen to the song, closing his eyes pretending like he was there in the audience. He put the phone up to his ear and laid back down, soaking up every word and every note.

He’s good

It’s bad

The best I’ve ever had

And he’s so nice

It’s sad

He ruined all my plans

And he just makes me so crazy

I know everyone sees

He’ll be the death of me

That’s how he got here, standing in a special area in your sold out venue wearing your newest merch.

And Bakugou Katsuki was terrified.

 This was the first time he had come to see your concert, because last time you toured it was when your relationship was a secret. Now, he sat nervously in his chair, his colleagues on either side of him. You had given all of them tickets, making sure they had the best seats in the house but also allowed them to not be disturbed by fans.

Bakugou was bouncing his leg, picking at his fingernails as he watched the crowd. It seemed that nobody knew they were there, everyone waiting in anticipation of your show. Your music was so diverse, everyone knew that it would contain all sorts of emotions and energies. You were the type of performer who liked to be as close to the audience as possible, you loved adding commentary to your songs during the pauses, making faces, and dancing around. You loved to have fun, and let loose. When you got the green light to plan the tour, you were practically bouncing off the walls of your now shared home. You spent three months planning it, which was a new record for you, before announcing. However, there was just one thing that Bakugou didn’t like about the tour.

He knew absolutely nothing about it. In fact, you made sure of it. Hiding your notebook, changing your laptop’s password, making sure your manager didn’t tell him shit about it. That’s why he was terrified. His partner, his very famous singer/songwriter of a soulmate was about to do the very first night of the tour in Japan and Bakugou didn’t know a thing.

That’s why Bakugou Katsuki was terrified.

Soon enough, the lights began to dim, and people started to stand up. A hush fell over the crowd as the venue blacked out, and the wrist bands on everyone’s wrists lit up.

“Holy shit it’s happening.” Kaminari whispered to Bakugou, grin spreading across his face.

Ochako, Kaminari, and Mina happily took the evening off to see you, while the rest of your invites weren’t able to. Kirishima made Bakugou promise at least one photo of the two of them after the show.

A soft hum came out of the speakers, and suddenly a spotlight appeared to reveal you standing at the very far back of the stage. The crowd went insane, and you walked down the stage.

When it came to your outfits, you always had to keep it comfortable. You loved to jump around dancing, sometimes fall to your knees dramatically. You especially loved to squat. Jumping around in that position and when you stood up you always made sure to flaunt the ass that you worked very hard on in the gym.

You came out strutting down the stage in very baggy and flowy black pants and a very cropped black long sleeve sweater that allowed you to show off the lace bra that went down to your belly button. But that wasn’t where it stopped, nor was it the best part of your outfit. To Bakugou’s surprise you were wearing boots with an obnoxiously thick heel, that were very obviously Dynamite themed.

Bakugou smirked at the sight, taking in the rest of the little details of your outfit. You wore a giant ring on your index finger that was also Dynamite inspired, as a fan gave it to you, and Bakugou could see his initials sewn into the bottom of your sweater.

You stopped at the end of the runway, pulling the microphone away from your face in a dramatic motion. You slowly looked around, taking in your crowd. A smile spread across your face, and when your gaze looked straight forward to look for Bakugou, he made sure to make little sparks from his hands to let you know he was right here. You pointed at him with the finger that had the Dynamite ring on it, and Bakugou honestly felt like it was just you and him in the stadium. You mouthed an ‘I love you’ at him, and Bakugou was now ignoring the new roar from the audience.

“You guys should get married already.” Mina whispered in Bakugou’s ear, and instead of blowing her face up, he just smiled, still looking in your direction.

“I plan on it.”

The first song you sang was one of your oldest ones, which also happened to be a much slower and sadder song. Instead of listening to the grim lyrics (not because they were bad, just because Bakugou hated to remember how bad some of your relationships were and didn’t want to get angry) the hero closed his eyes and listened to your voice. He wanted to take in his environment and all the notes you sang. The song started to drift off midway, which confused Bakugou. His eyes suddenly snapped open when he heard your newest song, which was much more upbeat. He watched you jump in the air and sing the song with much more passion than the original version. The crowd recovered quickly from the switch up and was singing along happily.

You sang a couple more of your newer and upbeat songs, making sure to add new notes to them and even belt a couple of notes to get the crowd excited. You were having so much fun, and Bakugou had never seen you look more alive. This is where you belonged, and he wanted to be right here every time watching.

There was a pause for you to sit down at the edge of the runway. You sat criss-cross, and much closer to the audience for Bakugou’s liking. He always got nervous when you reached out for a fan’s hand, scared that they would do something that could hurt you.

Thankfully, that hadn’t ever happened, and you sat very cutely waiting for the audience to quiet down so you could speak.

“Wow. We’re halfway through already? Well, I think we all know what that means…”

You cocked your head to the side, and a soft piano started to play a familiar rhythm.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and everything in between, get out your tissues. It is now time to remember why you are no longer dating your ex, and for you to be reminded that your trauma isn’t just a thing that makes you funny.”

The crowd screamed, but almost immediately stopped when you began to sing in a much softer and lower register than before. As depressing as these songs may be, Bakugou firmly believes that these types of songs bring out the best in your voice. It allows you to challenge your breath control, and truly sing with so much passion and emotion.

A couple of songs pass, and Bakugou finds you when the stage gets lit up again. You’re in the middle of the runway, standing with your head down waiting for the band to begin. As soon as the piano starts, the crowd screams and yells. This is one of your all-time most popular songs, it was the one that caught a lot of people’s attention and boosted your popularity. Funnily enough, you actually hated this song because you wrote it in high school, so Bakugou was surprised to see you preform it.

“Is this Sick of Losing Soulmates?” Ochako yelled, because of the screaming of your audience.

Bakugou turned to her and confirmed her suspicions, making Mina and Kaminari start screaming along with the audience (as they were doing the entire time).

Bakugou watched as you began to sing, and noticed how you really got into it. You added a lot more dramatic pauses before certain lines, and even speaking some of the lyrics, making it feel more like anger than sadness.

Yeah, I’m sick of losing soulmates

Won’t be alone again

I can finally see you’re as fucked up as me

So how do we begin?

At one point, you laid down on your back, reaching for the sky as you sang your heart out, and Bakugou noticed you choking up a bit at certain lyrics.

We will grow old as friends

I've promised that before, so what's one more in our grey-haired circle, waiting for the end?

Time and hearts will wear us thin

So which path will you take, 'cause we both know a break does exactly what it says on the tin

The song soon ends, and your last pose has you on your knees, head looking down at the floor. The stadium goes pitch dark, including the wrist bands, before they light up again along with your stage. Bakugou sees you wipe a tear off your cheek, and you sit there once more taking in your fans that take the chance to start chanting your name. You put your lips together, closing your eyes and putting your hands on your heart. Your eyebrows are furrowed and Bakugou can tell you’re still crying. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to go to you and hold you, wiping away your tears and replacing them with tender kisses.

You open your eyes, putting the mic back to your mouth and the audience quiets down in order to let you speak.

“Oh boy, I am so overwhelmed by emotions. I mean that was the song that started it all right?”

The crowd was still practically silent, as you’ve trained them well. You get off your knees and get into a more comfortable sitting position (criss-cross of course) and continue.

“I used to absolutely loath that song, because I wrote that when I was at my lowest. I was so sick and tired of love, having to try again over and over again. Every relationship that ended seem to break a piece of me off, and I was honestly starting to give up.”

You let out a broken chuckle, putting your free hand over your eyes momentarily before starting again.

“But then I met Katsuki, in which he literally crashed into my life.”

The crowd stayed silent, but Bakugou could tell they wanted to start screaming. You were not looking at him, and to his surprise Bakugou felt a tear run down his cheek.

“Three years of paradise. I’ve always had a fear of losing you, but it especially hits when I sing songs like that.”

There was a pause, and suddenly Bakugou felt like he was back in that studio where he met you. Staring at you and falling in love all over again.

“I love you baby, forever and always.”

Bakugou smiled, and all that fear that was with him before left. You were his and he was yours, and that’s all that he needed.

“I love you too,” he whispered, and you knew.

Bakugou Katsuki was no longer terrified.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ─ ✩ ─⋅ ⋅ ──╯

none of the songs quoted are not mine!!! the first one is “Bad for Business” by Sabrina Carpenter, and the second one is “Sick of Losing Soulmates” by dodie

i hope you enjoyed bc boy oh boy i did

literally took me 4 hours to write but i couldn’t pull myself away from the keyboard

i rlly need to start writing other characters for x readers but oh well

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugou katsuki x reader #singer! reader x bakugou katsuki #sobbing #my hero academia #mha #whew #this one is a biggin #definitely got a little too into it #but oh well #i couldn’t get this out of my head so #love love love

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painted-bees · 7 months

Note

Weeeeeeee binge reading the Cortes blorbos to see if I missed anything (which I did lol, greatly enjoyed reading the new-to-me posts!) and I'm curious how Raf and Margie went from hey-come-crash-at-my-place to cool-I-live-here-now. also what was going through Margie's mind the first time she stayed at Raf's place? If he'd openly told her she could stay as long as she liked, how come she left before he came home from work? also did she talk about it at all at their next jam session?

(sorry for Wall of Text I didn't realize I had more questions until I started typing them out haha)

Yay!! I am so happy!! Thank you for going through all that Q vQ <3!!

In honesty once Raf realizes she's unhoused, and consequently invites her to crash at his place for the first time, he becomes kinda very "pspspsps🤌" to Magritte ever since, in effort to entice her to just--stay. Largely because he reads her as being very trusting, naive, and vulnerable, and really doesn't trust the world with someone like her. Magritte herself isn't as naive as she is in his imagination, and objectively, he does know that, but his brain naturally comes up with the worst-case scenarios for everything. Still, his paranoid nature also doesn't allow him to be wholly straightforward with her. He's unable to just tell her point blank "hey, make my place your own alright? I just want you to be safe." He can't, because if things ever go sideways and he suddenly wants her out, he wouldn't really be able to create that distance anymore without looking like kind of an asshole for doing so. So, he avoids making that commitment while trying to entice her to take it from him anyways.

It doesn't work lmao

Until this point, Raf has always been the 'skittish' one of the two of them, but when it comes to staying in once place for long, Magritte's own brand of protective skittishness emerges. And it's completely different from Raf's.

Magritte has become aware of the cycle that's repeated ever since she's started couch surfing and relying on the charity of friends + acquaintances. She's a fun, sweet, bubbly, cute person with a bit of a quirky vibe, and so things always start off fun and well enough. But inevitably, her presence becomes a strain. And her lack of contributions to the place she is staying at becomes a point of resentment. And justly so, she thinks. Try as she might, she's not a very clean or hygienic roommate--quite the opposite, to a degree that she knows should be more embarrassing to her than it for some reason is. Sporadic showering scheduel, forgotten plates of rotting food, unwashed clothing on the floor of her room for weeks...She leaves lights on, turns thermostats up too high, forgets to clean up after herself, when she does shower, she stays too long and uses up all the hot water. When asked to do favors, if she cannot preform them as soon as they are requested, there's a high likelihood she'll just forget to do them. None of these things on their own are a terrible deal-breaker...but when it's all of these things, often...and then the rent is due and the electricity and water bill is high, and Magritte's response is "Sorry, sorry! I can buy you lunch if that helps, I'm sorry!"--you know...it gets kind of...upsetting. And friends eventually come to resent her before they gather the courage to tell her that she's gotta find somewhere else to live for a while.

If she doesn't leave before things accumulate to that point, then she loses friends.

Raf has already proven that he's very protective/defensive about his space and his privacy. By the time Raf invites her to stay the night at his place, she's still trying to figure out his boundaries--and from her perspective, they seem to shift around a lot in unpredictable ways.

She likes the relationship she has with Raf. Their Thursday night jam sessions are the one thing she looks forward to the most every single week. She doesn't want to do anything to compromise that.

That first night Margie crashes in his guest bedroom, it's just really good timing and she's really happy to have a comfy, warm bed to sleep in. They get home some time around 1am, and both just...go to sleep almost as soon as they arrive at his apartment lmao. But she's awake as soon as she hears him up and about because she's worried that sleeping in will make her seem like a lazy, bad guest. Also, free coffee....... And they have a really nice, casual chat over breakfast about just...stuff haha.

Raf invites her to stay as long as she wants, but she leaves before he gets home because she doesn't...know when he'll be back, and what if she lost track of time and he comes home to a mess? What if she breaks something? What if she impulsively eats all the stuff in his fridge? What if the neighbors complain to him about the music?? She leaves his place shortly after he leaves for work, once the temperature warms up a bit outside. Because she not confident in her ability to take up only a 'polite' amount of space in his home. So she'd rather just--not.

And--she doesn't want to spend too many consecutive nights, because...then why wouldn't she just stay the whole day, too? How does she explain that she doesn't want him to dislike her for having the habits and manners of a gross little goblin creature? lmao

Raf's automatic assumption is that Margie doesn't like staying at his place cuz she just doesn't like his place. Maybe it's boring, maybe the smell of weed keeps her away lmao. But then he begins to realize how she literally won't do anything unless he's there to tell her she can. Like she's afraid to just make herself at home. And it's...fair. The few times she does attempt to own her space, his instinctive reaction is to point it out to her in one way or another, because the paranoia nips at his heels with "she's getting too comfortable". He's quick to correct himself or assure her it's fine, actually...but he gets annoyed at his own kneejerk responses.

Finally, after a few months of fruitlessly trying to encourage Magritte to treat his apartment as a place she can fall back on and stay in without worrying about imposing, Raf just...gives her a set of keys, "Here's your keys".

And Magritte slides them back over to him, "That's super sweet of you, but you'd get so sick of me, so fast haha."

Raf, a little stung by the outright rejection is just like, "Nah, I don't think so." and Magritte is like, "I know, but you gotta trust me."

She gives him the full lo-down on how this kinda thing has always gone in the past, her terrible domestic habits, her penchant for neglecting responsibilities and failing to deliver on favors. She can't even offer to contribute to rent in any reliable way, because her income and spending habits are so consistently inconsistent that she can't even promise herself that she'll eat two to three meals a day.

There are other people and facilities that she can lean on that would hurt her less if they decided they had enough of her.

She really, really, really doesn't want to screw things up with Raf. She likes hanging out with him. She doesn't want him to grow sick and resentful of her. In an effort to lighten the subject, she concludes it with "yanno, too much of a good thing, haha."

Raf has never wanted to scrunch someone up into a little ball and slam dunk them into a warm, cozy, protective little pillow fort so badly in his entire gd life lmao For someone who is so paranoid of being taken advantage of, he's really taken off guard by this kind of...idk, preserving refusal? On one hand, it's a really considerate gift, an expression of "I like you, not the favors and resources I can extract from you" he's never really had to navigate before. On the other hand, wrt the situation, it's extremely fucking frustrating lmao.

Raf admits that he worries about her probably more than he ought to, and he'd really appreciate it if she could just...oblige him on this. He promises to tell her if he ever feels like he'd prefer to have his space back, and that he'd do so well before it ever risks compromising their friendship. Because just as much as she likes hanging out and playing music with him, he enjoys it, too. It's not just her who's worried about ruining a good thing. "Just stay. One month, and and we can see how we're feeling about it after that. If it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out and we can still meet up to jam every week. But, if you stay here, we can play music any day we want."

She might have refused if he hadn't thrown in that last line.

#Hi-Note #rafael #magritte

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ditttiii · 1 year

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KINTSUGI. | 0T7 (M) || 04 |

◈ Hybrid AU || Ot7 x Reader

◈ Summary: Life is neither fair nor what you had dreamed that it would be, but the hand that fate had dealt them was worse than yours.

When you get a chance to adopt seven hybrids, all a little rough around the edges, do you take it? Will this last-ditch attempt at doing something right end with you buried six feet under the ground or will it finally give you the family that you have always secretly hoped for?

◈ Genre: eventual romance || hurt/comfort || angst (with a happy ending) || eventual smut.

◈ Chapter Four

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: none. (sfw)

◈ Masterlist

Moodboard By: @today-we-will-survive ❤

you know i didn't want to

have to haunt you,

but what a ghostly scene.

You feel like a live wire, buzzing and zapping sporadically in all the wrong places. This is a mess; you are a mess. Your feelings are tangled and knotted tight like a pair of old wired headphones, and the more you try to pull them apart, the tighter the tangle grows.

Sinking deeper into your hoodie, you exhale in an attempt to keep warm, shuffling across the sweeping, empty parking lot to get to your SUV as quickly as you can.

The wind outside is cold and no less harsh than when you had stepped foot outside hours ago, but somehow for the first time since you got here, you feel warm. The cold outside feels less hostile, less biting, and your inhales no longer make you feel like the air is trying to suffocate you the more you breathe it in.

It had taken hours for the whole thing to be done. More hours than you were comfortable with inside that place to finally get the seven hybrids registered under your custody, and with a pained sigh, you sink into your seat. Hands-on the steering, you still. Just for a minute.

I am sorry. I hope you can forgive me.

A minute. Just for a minute, you allow yourself to feel weak. Let your walls down alone and feel your heart squeeze inside your chest till it hurts to breathe, till the burn spreads from your thorax to your throat. Hold your breath till your ears pop and you feel enough pain to find just enough self-pity to stop scourging yourself like this.

I miss you.

The constant sense of vacuity and inadequateness you feel is now accompanied by the feeling of being undeserving and wholly unprepared for what is to come but shuddering a breath in, you let them settle.

The minute’s up.

Turning the gear into reverse, you back out of the parking lot.

In the time that it had taken you to finish all the formalities, the sun had set. Darkness shrouds the entire place, creating shadows that alter their shape if looked at for a second too long and play games with you. The already eerie place becomes even scarier, and you hasten to pick up the seven awaiting hybrids.

Coming to a stop in front of the building, you unlock all the doors and unroll the passenger side window.

“Hey, guys. So there’s enough space in the back for three people, but it would be better if the…um, smaller of you seven take the last seat?” Right off the bat, you hope your poor choice of words doesn’t offend anyone.

“Yoongi, Jimin, Hoseok; in the back.”

Unlike how it freezes you in place, Naamjoon’s commanding voice stirs his pack into action and wordlessly, the three climb into place; Namjoon takes the passenger seat for himself. The remaining three take the middle-row seats, and with a mute nod, you put the car back into drive.

“I live some 40 minutes away, so get comfortable. Also, I know it’s a bit of a drive, but we can make a pitstop along the way if someone needs something?”

“Anyone?” Namjoon reiterates.

Variations of I’m good, and I’m fine fill the silence in the car before the quiet reigns again, and you try not to think too hard about how they are really answering Namjoon and not you.

Did you even expect them to?—No—you know it too, but a very tiny part of you, buried deep enough where you refuse to acknowledge its existence, wishes that you all were at least talking to each other.

Taking the hint that they might not respond to you unless prompted by their leader, you keep quiet and drive back home in silence.

Blinking dry eyes wet, you press your finger into the biometric scanner of the main gate. A second passes as it registers who you are before the heavy main gate slides open electronically, and you drive in. Tall trees line both sides of your driveway. From the corner of your eye, you watch as the men in the back shift in their seats, leaning forward and showing maybe the first signs of genuine interest in something since you first laid your eyes on them. Soft yellow-lit lamps line the right side of the road, grass sprouting around and encompassing the path in stretches of green, interrupted only by the various stone statues you have gathered over the years. Some passed on, some bought by you.

It’s a consolation because even if nothing works out and you can never fully gain their trust or friendship, you can provide for them well. Do your best to give everything that they ever desire and protect them.

A soft gasp escapes Jungkook, bunny ears stirring under his pullover hoodie and the reflection of the passing lamps, the yellow and gold glittered clear amidst his large eyes visible even from where you are sitting. The sight of him unguarded for a moment warms your heart for a reason you can’t yet put your finger on.

Finally, after a lengthy, awkwardly silent ride, the car rests as you pull up in front of the main house gate.

“I’ll have to park the car in the garage, but you guys can get off here. I’ll come back around in a minute.”

“I’ll stay.”

You blink at Namjoon’s response, unsure of what that means for the rest of the hybrids. You weren’t very comfortable leaving them all alone in a foreign space either, but the property was secured, and there was no point in making them all walk back unnecessarily.

“Okay,” concludes Yoongi, getting out of the car. No one protests after, wordlessly following him and getting out one by one. You put the car into drive again with all of them off but one.

Waiting for the garage door to open, you sneak a peek at Namjoon. The wolf hybrid sits perfectly straight, his shoulders wide and broader than the seat rest behind him. Does he not trust you to come back? But that’s a ridiculous notion. Even if he didn’t trust you, which you are sure is the case one way or another, he’s smart enough to know you can’t exactly escape from them in your own house. Putting the car into park, you wonder. Is he being…protective?

In the distance, you see the six of them. Yoongi’s long silver hair made it obvious who was leaning a little space away from the rest of the pack against one of the lamp poles. Hoseok and Jimin are standing close to Jungkook’s hunched figure while Taehyung sits on one of the bottom stairs.

“Do you have any advice for me?”

There. You’ve said it. Regardless of Namjoon’s response, it’s worth a shot.

He remains quiet, not a break in his pace, and you turn to look at him fully. Long, black strands rest against a narrow, sharp face and a vain part of you wonders if hybrids are all genetically tailored to look unreal amounts of pretty or if it’s just your pack.

“Whatever you think is the best mistress.”

That word again. You shift to hide your grimace. The word leaves a bad taste in your mouth, and you need to figure out a way to get them to stop saying it.

“My name’s fine, really. You don’t have to–”

“Mistress, please.”

You pause. There’s–

“Don’t ask us to do that.”

Namjoon sounds…pained doesn’t feel right to you, but it’s something similar. You don’t know him well enough yet to be sure, but you can’t help but think he sounds resigned. It’s the kind of bone-deep weary resignation that makes you swallow back all of the arguments that you have.

“Alright,” you concede. You won’t broach the subject with the rest of the pack until you have Namjoon on your side, and if he isn’t ready yet, then you are willing to wait. Slow and steady.

“Jungkook likes you.”

Your eyes widen. “Sorry?”

Piercing hazel eyes turn to you, and you can’t even blink. Something about Namjoon’s presence is vital, he demands respect with every breath, and you unconsciously straighten up, giving him your full attention.

“He’s the youngest, but he trusts you already. He isn’t the easiest and he has his troubles, but—”

For the first time, you see a crack in Namjoon’s shell. It’s barely there, a very thin hair crack and you only see it because you are looking, but his eyes soften. Just the barest millimetre, and if you blink, you’ll likely not see it again. The edges curled in on themselves, warmth seeping into that otherwise impaling gaze.

“He isn’t cold. He still believes in goodness and wants a purpose,” Namjoon searches your gaze again like he had a few hours prior, looking for something you are unsure you possess.

“Mistress, if it isn’t too much trouble, please keep him around you. Let him help you. He’s honest and receptive to your wishes and it’ll be the quickest way for him to acclimatise to the change.”

You see Jungkook hunched in on himself, scared maybe but still curious as his head turns to look at you, and one of his ears pokes out from under the hoodie, crooked and curious as he sees you two approach.

“I will.”

Fishing out the house key from your front pocket, you jam it in the lock, twisting it with a little more force than you would if the weather out was a little warmer. You make a mental note to get the lock lubricated.

The door opens to darkness, and you step in, quickly reaching a few steps ahead to switch on the lights. The inside is blessedly warmer and you shuffle your new housemates in, locking the door shut behind you.

“This is it. Welcome!” The forced cheer in your voice is slightly awkward, tinged with nervousness and anxiety. You will now have seven housemates who also call you mistress and treat you as one.

This is going to take some time to get used to.

“Do you guys want a tour of sorts first, or I can show you your rooms, and you can freshen up?”

A gurgling stomach is the first one to respond.

“Right, I’ll get started with the dinner while you guys get cleaned up.”

“Dinner would be lovely, mistress.” It’s Hobi this time, and your lips curl into a bright, encouraging smile.

“Perfect. However, I am gonna need some help with cooking. I don’t have much experience cooking for more than two people, so do any of you know your way around the kitchen?”

“Mistress..” Seokjin steps up, his tall frame appearing from behind the huddle, “I know a few dishes and am decent with recipes for most others that I don’t know.”

Nodding, you beckon him over to the kitchen while asking the rest of them to wait for you to come back.

Quickly showing him what’s in the refrigerator, you pull out some vegetables and meat, explaining how you’d like him to cut them before you rush out to the remaining hybrids.

“Alright, follow me.”

Climbing the wooden staircase, you lead them to the first floor, where most rooms are. Explaining the basic layout of your house en route and letting them know to explore and figure out the rest. Pointing to the door of your room, you simply tell them it’s yours. Wondering for a second if maybe you should ask them to not go in without asking you but ultimately push back your inhibitions, deciding not to.

“There are three rooms on this floor besides mine, all large enough for two, but it could be a tight squeeze for three. There are another two rooms on the ground floor if someone would like those.”

Ultimately, you decide to let them figure out the details of their living quarters on their own and quietly make your escape once you have established they know the directions to the ground floor rooms.

Coming into the kitchen, you see Seokjin’s tall figure hunched over your granite counter, long thin fingers gripping the knife confidently as he slices in practiced, uniform motions.

“Need any help?”

Huh—the bear hybrid jumps, looking at you with a startled gaze and you rush to apologise. Maybe not all of them are equally as aware of their surroundings.

With another apology, you smile, coming to stand beside him.

“I have got it, mistress.”

Nodding, you leave him to finish the preparation as you work on making the broth.

“Do you want a bathroom break or something? I know I dragged you here first thing as soon as we came in. I can hold down the fort alone for a while if you’d like to get refreshed,” you offer, guilt weighing your stomach down at having to ask for help so soon.

Seokjin smiles, and it’s a small, soft thing. All full pink lips and gentle warmth and try as you might, you can’t force your gaze away from it. With a shake of his head, he reassures you and nodding you accept his response wordlessly. Still a little awe-struck by the smile.

It’s quiet as you work alongside each other, but the silence isn’t awkward or oppressive. Unlike Namjoon or Yoongi, despite his broad shoulders and tall height, Seokjin isn’t as intimidating. You have no doubt that if a situation arose that demanded it, the predator, that half of him is, would make an appearance. Sharp, long nails stretched out from the ends of his nailbed, a subtle reminder of his part identity. However, at the same time, in the warm yellow lighting of your kitchen, surrounded by a pile of finely chopped vegetables and meat and wearing your soft pink apron, he feels no part predator and all parts the man himself.

You exit the kitchen in a rush, handing him the apron hanging off a kitchen chair. It’s apparent you are stressed, worried about making them comfortable and maybe not knowing how to.

Jin isn’t the leader of the pack, but he is the oldest, and with it comes experience that even Namjoon lacks. He has known what it is like to be a hybrid the longest between them, had the most time to come to terms with it before the uprising, and in some ways, he feels for Jungkook.

Maybe that’s why the others aren’t entirely wrong in their assumption when they accuse him of playing favourites with Jungkook. Because while the youngest isn’t his favourite—he could never choose one of them, they are all his just as much as he is theirs—Jin is the most protective of him. It’s the kind of parental love that a hybrid never really has the privilege to feel, but a stroke of fate and his bleeding heart for those his kind had led Jungkook to experience it. In their own way, they all feel the most for their maknae, wishing to protect the most vulnerable of their group, not wanting him to be as jaded as they are, and he hopes it’s the same for you too.

He boasts of a past no better than any of his pack, but unlike Namjoon, who functions with cautiosness that stems from the self-alloted weight of his whole pack and then some, or Yoongi, who shields himself under a layer of hostility so thick very rarely has Jin himself seen the Yoongi that breathes underneath all that facade; Jin still trusts humans. He still remembers when things weren’t as bad and knows that not all of humanity is alike. There are vicious hybrids, just as there are kind humans, and denying the existence of either by the other is foolish.

He hears your voice as you pass him by the kitchen, the rest of his pack tailing behind you quietly while you chat; whether to fill the silence or to help them fill at ease, he doesn’t know.

Jin doesn’t feel comfortable with the unknown and is unaware of plenty.

Like—you; who you are besides what he has already seen and deduced, the real you. The you who chose to have them. He needs to know your reasons for adopting seven hybrids at the worst time you could have chosen. Jin is no fool; he realises how rare anyone wanting a single hybrid is nowadays, let alone seven. Had he been a human, your actions would have screamed a death wish to him. And yet you still did, choosing to do the unpopular and maybe even unwise.

He can hear the slam of a door closing as several pairs of feet walk above him, the distinct thump of feet against wood, and he hopes, despite all the unknown and unwise, that he is right for putting his faith in you.

Dinner is an odd affair. You aren’t used to having another person under the same roof as you, let alone half a dozen others. Once Jin and you are done cooking, you ask Jungkook—hanging by the kitchen entrance—to call the others, soon passing on a stack of plates to Hoseok and giving him free rein to set the table. When you come out of the kitchen, at last, it’s to the assumption that everyone else must have already picked a seat and settled down, but the sight that greets you is different. Disturbingly so.

The seven hybrids stand divided behind the two sides of the table, leaving both ends clear, with their heads bowed and hands folded. It shouldn’t surprise you after today, after everything you have seen and felt, after the almost breakdown you’ve had, realising the extent of their servitude and yet it does. Something about being under the same roof had fooled you into thinking they’d treat you just like they do each other. Something about the domesticity of sharing your kitchen space, cooking with someone and having someone waiting on you at the end had deluded you into a sense of normalcy.

The scene that you walk into quickly shatters that illusion.

“Sit down please, it’s late and we should all be heading to bed soon anyway,” you force yourself to be casual as you take one head of the table, unsure if the nonchalance is for their benefit or if you are just too cowardly to ask why they don’t feel comfortable sitting until you do.

Time. You’ll take it one step at a time, and this is a battle you choose to not wage today.

The sobs are quiet, muffled, and maybe some other day, you wouldn’t have heard them, but tonight you are careful and the unmistakable sound of crying brings you to a sudden halt. You debate going in, fearing the unknown and fumbling out of your depth as you stand there with sweaty fingers clenched white around the cool metal handle. You pray for resilience—strength you don’t have left after the long day, curse yourself for hesitating and force yourself to turn the handle.

Curled into himself, hands wrapped around his knees and eyes leaking tears hidden in the space between. You don’t need to remove the cloth over his head to know it’s Jungkook dwarfed in a frayed oversized hoodie. The shudders that were poorly muffled before are quiet now, his breaths seized as he no doubt registers your presence. A voice inside you supplies how he must have heard you even before you had stepped into the hallway with his abilities.

But if so, why hadn’t he quieted down then? Did he not think you would care enough to check?

Whatever remnants of hesitation were left regarding reaching out faded at the sight of him trying to curl his broad shoulders tighter into each other.

“Jungkook?” you call, moving closer.

He doesn’t answer, head lowering further into the gaps of his knees and the hood over his head slides away a little at the moment. One lonesome ear peaking out, down and tucked close, and you ache to gather him in a hug.

“Hey Koo…,” voice soft as a feather, you get down on your knees, inching closer until there’s less than a metre of space between you two. This close, you hear the barely audible sniffles as he breathes through a wet and, judging by the downturned head—leaking nose.

Jungkook shivers under your touch as you place a hand over his clothed knee and a semblance of hope bubbles in your heart realising that at least he hadn’t flinched. You think he’s frightened of the unknown too, but maybe he isn’t terrified of you.

“I won’t force you to talk if you don’t want to, and I don’t want you to explain something you don’t feel comfortable with. I just want to know if you are okay.”

The lone long ear twitches, rising slowly.

“Can we start there?”

Your words are still soft, quiet, so no one outside hears anything, and Jungkook finally stirs. A pair of deep chocolate brown eyes rise to meet yours and you don’t know if it’s the tears or the stark bathroom lighting reflecting back, but for an instant, you swear nothing has shimmered quite as bright.

“Yeah. okay.” he says, and it’s just as quiet and for a brief moment, you sit there in companionable silence, content to be still except for the small of your hand rubbing comforting circles on his knee.

Keeping hold of his gaze, you smile a small but encouraging smile. “Are you?”

“I don’t know.”

Nodding, you accept the unexpectedly raw confession. “That’s okay. To be honest, I don’t know if I am either but as long as you hold on. I think that’s ultimately what matters the most. Not giving up.”

Pools of deep molten brown widen, an emotion you can’t identify swimming in them before he averts his gaze, biting his lips nervously.

“I am sorry, mistress.”

With a shake of your head, you dismiss his apology. “There is nothing to apologise for. It’s okay to not be okay and to cry,” your fingers tighten around his knee, “Just know you are not alone. There are people who care; you know they care, and I care too. So let us be there for you, okay?”

His gaze still glistens but he gathers enough to where the shudders stop and you make yourself comfortable on the floor. At this point, there isn’t much you feel like you can do to make him change his mind over whatever it is that’s tormenting him, but at the same time, you know what suffering is like too. You’ve been there, down on your knees at your worst, crying and begging things to change to go back in time. Long for something you never had, for a release and a better next day.

So, you don’t know what he has been through and don’t see how you can make it better at the moment (if anyone can), but you do know loneliness. The poignant void that your mind can weave that makes you feel alone in a crowded room—thoughts that weigh your core—the only thing keeping you company, and it’s horrible. You hate being lonely but enjoy being alone and it’s that feeling of powerlessness. Being unable to understand where the feelings come from and only knowing how heavy they weigh you down settled around your shoulders, claws digging into your skin, leaving bruises unseen.

If being here is the only thing you can ever do for him–any of them–you’ll do it. Day after day till your last.

Moments and minutes blur into each other as you sit pressed with your knee against his, the reassuring warmth of company tugging you two back to the present and in place. Eventually, he nods. Long thin fingers peek out from a large hoodie to wipe away any residual tears.

“Yes, mistress.”

Smiling, you lean closer to Jungkook, the barest bit, cautious of his boundaries, and your heart physically warms when he moves to do the same. It’s not an embrace, with your head barely grazing his shoulder, most of its weight still being held up by your neck and one of his ears flopping down to rest against your ear, more a ghost touch than any real contact, but it feels better than any hug you have received in years. You stay there, enveloped in each other’s warmth and hesitant touches, until the tiles under you grow warm and your eyes start to feel heavy. The surprise of being comfortable in another’s presence omitted in your exhausted state of mind. Eventually, Jungkook moves. Or you slip. You aren’t sure which came first but when you finally start coming to, it’s to the feeling of Jungkook’s hands around your forearms, straightening you up as he supports your unsteady, half-asleep body.

“Oh god I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,” a blush cloaks your cheeks and you wish you were wearing an oversized hoodie too, if only so you could hide behind the comforting cloak of said fabric.

Jungkook shakes his head, both ears now on display as he smiles. It’s small and timid and he can barely meet your gaze for more than a second but it’s more than what you had expected to gain by the end of the day and certainly far more than anything you could have even hoped for.

Fragile and new it may be, but you two now have a bond.

It’s not onesided. You know you are not just fooling yourself when the same fingers lightly grab the back of your tee as you move through the hallway, intending to leave Jungkook at his bedroom door, preferably with one of his hyungs.

Slightly embarrassed, you realise you don’t exactly know which room he is in or with whom. “Which room did you pick, Jungkook?”

Shuffling a little closer to you, his fingers pinch your tee tighter and you slow your pace, leaning back to catch his gaze. “I mean, I know this sounds stupid, considering it’s my house but mind directing me to your room?”

His eyes visibly soften, and he nods, leading without another word. Jungkook lets go of the back of your tee only to grab your full sleeve from the side a second later.

You furiously squash the voice inside your head urging you to pinch his cheeks.

“I was planning on doing a grocery run tomorrow morning, so if there’s anything you want, just let me know.”

“Can I come?”

Surprised, you look at him. “Ofcourse you can, but you really don’t have to. I will probably leave early, and well, it’s just a grocery run. I will take you guys out to get some stuff later in the day. Today’s been long; if you want to sleep in, you should.”

He shuffles shyly, one hand in his pocket and one grabbing your sleeve. “I want to.”

Something in your chest constricts, too tight and too full as the rest of you feels slightly weightless. This boy is going to be the death of you.

Namjoon opens the door to the room Jungkook leads you, and the youngest wishes you night with a bow and a soft thank you before shuffling in. The straight, quivering ears give away the excitement and joy the rest of him so desperately tries to hide in favour of being poised.

It makes and breaks your heart. You are happy—beyond thankful—that he has started to consider you as more than just his owner, maybe not yet a friend, but at least someone he trusts. However, the way his responses, ingrained and trained, all have an underlying hint of servitude; it makes you want to protect him from yourself, lest you do something to encourage that sense of captivity that comes so naturally to him.

“Goodnight, mistress.”

Namjoon’s voice is all gravel and stone as he drops you off at your bedroom door despite all your protests.

There’s a thankyou somewhere lodged in your chest, pushing against the confines of your ribs and wanting to escape through the hollows in between, words that tickle the back of your throat, begging to come out and tell him how you think Jungkook trusts you now. Ask him shamefully if he thinks you are doing good, if he trusts you to take care of him and his family.

But the words never come, and with the greeting returned, you step inside your room, shutting the door on the longest day of your life.

a/n: i am alive. i am back and my apology comes in the form of this nearly 5k word chapter. this has been a long time coming and i have no excuse. i am scum. life just got away from me and it took all of me and then some to get it back on track. if you wanna talk to me, shoot me an ask. i am always beyond happy when i get the chance to talk to any of you so yes! i m here and i hope you are here too.

Lemme know what you thought of the chapter in the comments please! it's as always the support and comments that bring me back to some of my stories with the drive to give them the ending that they and you all deserve. We have got a long road ahead of us but i promise to make it worth it 💕 Thankyou so much for reading my story! i love you ❣️ i hope you have an amazing day/night ahead 🫶

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