#found one of those announcer poems in my notes too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

brywrites · 3 years

Text

Gifted

Spencer Reid x Reader. Summary: All his life Spencer Reid has been told he’s gifted. And all his life he’s wondered what the point was of those gifts that felt like curses. Until her.

--------

Though he holds so many memories in his mind, Spencer Reid isn’t quite sure who the first person to call him “gifted” was. It was probably his mother, he thinks. Certainly not his father, who thought he was strange. Perhaps a teacher, or maybe even his Aunt Ethel. All he’s certain of is that he’s lost track of the number of times people have praised the so-called gifts he possesses. His eidetic memory, his autodidactism, his absurdly high IQ. His mind, they say, is a gift. But it’s felt more like a curse for most of his life.

Those same things that helped him skip grades and earn the praise of adults brought him years of bullying taunts and miserable adolescent trauma. They isolated him from his peers. His companions were library books and stories and mathematic proofs – nothing with a beating heart. They plagued his nightmares, for his mother had been brilliant too and what had that done for her? And those gifts came with a tremendous burden of pressure, they demanded use in a powerful way. Reid was always terrified he’d fail to live up to that impossible potential, proving himself unworthy of such great and terrible gifts.

By the time he’s thirty-six, he wonders why he was ever given such gifts in the first place. Clearly he’s squandered them, spent them on chasing monsters he thought might be human. They turned out to be hydras – for each one they catch, two more take its place. He’s let his mind waste away on drugs, on grief. In shacks and in prison and in grudges he just can’t let go of. He’s saved lives, he knows, but his team do that same thing without the gifts he’s been cursed with. What’s the point of him? Of any of the talents or tricks he possesses?

And it’s that question on his mind as he walks into a Virginia library to interview a witness to the latest in a string of serial arsons. Her name tag says Y/N. She’s clearly nervous, a little shaken, but she manages a smile when a child runs up to interrupt and ask her how to find The Magic Tree House books. And when she turns back to look at Reid, that smile still lingers – her eyes so bright it catches him off guard. She takes him back to the area of the library that was burned to talk about the crime scene, and she off-handedly asks if he has a favorite.

And when he says, “Oh I could never choose just one favorite. I love books too much for that,” that smile returns, unexpectedly bright.

“A man after my own heart,” she says. “Tell me a few then.”

So he rattles off a handful, hoping at least one of them will keep that light in her eyes. They do. “Bradbury is one of my favorites, too. I just love Dandelion Wine. Sorry, I probably should focus on the fire. I try to distract myself when I feel stressed, and well, remembering what happened that night doesn’t exactly help with my anxiety.”

“It’s okay,” he tells her. “I tend to ramble when I’m nervous. Or excited. Really, I think I just talk a lot.” Another smile, one that crinkles the corners of her eyes. Over the course of the investigation, the BAU has to ask her to come to the station twice. By chance, Reid finds himself interviewing her both times, and both times he finds himself rambling a little more than he means to – because he finds himself inexplicably a little nervous and a little excited in her presence. It’s that smile, the one that lingers long in his mind after she leaves each time.

There’s something about her, about the light she seems to carry, that draws him in. That compels him to say yes when he shows up at the library to inform her they’ve caught the unsub and she asks, “Could I buy you a cup of coffee to show my appreciation? If that’s not too much, of course.”

“I think that would be perfect,” he says. And as they sit at the café across the street with lattes in oversized mugs, he’s never been so grateful for his vast knowledge of literature. Each title is a start into a new conversation with her, and they swap stories about stories – the ones they have lived and the ones they have loved. When she disappointedly announces her break is over, she adds, “But maybe we could do this again sometime?”

“Yes,” he says. “Please.”

“How should I get in touch with you if you’re not showing up at the library to interrogate me, Dr. Reid?” she teases.

He hastily withdraws his cell phone from his pocket and offers it to her. She begins to type in her number. “You, um, you can call me Spencer,” he tells her.

She grins at him and something in his chest shifts at the sight. “I’ll definitely call you soon, Spencer.” He’s never liked the sound of his own name more. And he thanks that eidetic memory of his for allowing him to replay it again and again in his mind until he can see her next.

They get coffee again the first chance he gets. And then again. When she asks how he has time to read so much and he tells her about how his mind works – about his memory and speed-reading and quantified intelligence, all the things that have been called gifts – she thinks for a moment before saying, “That must be lonely.”

The relief he feels at her understanding is immense. “It is sometimes,” he admits. “But it’s felt less so lately.” They go to a park together. Then out to dinner. By the time he realizes he’s falling, he’s forgotten what it feels like to be on solid ground. Fortunately, he isn’t the only one at the mercy of gravity. She feels it too. And when she laughs at his joke as he walks her home from dinner, he just can’t help himself. He leans in and cups her cheek to pull her to him, pressing his lips to her still-smiling lips. The taste of wine still on her tongue. And though he doesn’t drink anymore, the sensation of her is enough to make him feel utterly intoxicated.

Slowly, his life fills up with her. His sabbatical arrives with the perfect timing to allow him evenings and weekends with her. He picks her up after work. She meets him for breakfast. He takes her to the planetarium. She falls asleep on his couch. He tells her it won’t always be this way and she assures him that’s okay. But it gives him the chance to build the foundation their relationship needs. It’s in that time that he begins to catalogue her smiles in his memory. The dazzling ones she sends his way when she spots him at a coffee shop. The soft, shaky ones she wears after a long kiss. The coy ones that twist the corner of her mouth when she’s teasing him. The nervous one that slowly grows when she meets his team for the first time – not as a witness, but as his girlfriend. A title she declares like a badge of honor. He holds each smile in his mind, picture perfect thanks to that eidetic memory. When a case has been particularly tough or he’s away for longer than he’d like, he flips through them in his mind, trying to remember the cause of each one, trying to hold on to that light until he can hold her in his arms again.

He surprises her with flowers on her birthday. “You remembered?” she gasps, her eyes wide. “And these – these are my favorite. How did you know?”

“I could never forget,” he laughs, but she stares down at the bouquet and clutches them to her chest.

“I don’t make a big deal about my birthday, so people don’t usually remember,” she says quietly. “And nobody’s ever gotten me flowers before. Thank you, Spencer.” A pause, and then, “I love you.”

He grins from ear to ear. Forget the sound of his name, those three words are the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. “I love you, too.” It’s a first for both of them. And one week later comes another first – witnessing her panic attacks for the first time. She’s shaking too hard to tell him what she needs, so he tries to do what would help him. He sits down next to her on his living room rug and wraps her in his arms. He rests his head on her shoulder and murmurs the words to her favorite poem. She seems to breathe a little easier and so he recites another one she loves, and another until her breathing finally steadies and she unclenches her fists to wrap her arms around his neck, burying her face in his sweater.

Suddenly it doesn’t feel like such a curse to remember everything he reads when it means he can give her the words she loves when she needs them most.

The first time they sleep together is only the second time he’s been intimate with someone and he feels more awkward than he wishes he was. But he commits himself to studying, to remembering what she likes and what she doesn’t, and the next time he proves to be the quickest of learners when he succeeds at making her come within a matter of minutes. He discovers a new smile of hers, one of dreamy bliss and kiss-swollen lips. He loves it. He loves her, adores every single part of her she’s shared with him and every piece yet to be found. And to his continued surprise and delight, she loves him just as much.

He tries every day to be worthy of that love. He makes time for her. He goes to meet her friends and he shakes their hands even though he hates touching people, even though she insists, “You don’t have to. They won’t mind.” He does it because she’s the only person in the world whose touch he actually craves.

When she swoons over a dress Penelope has shown her on Instagram, he makes a note of it. She’s utterly enamored by it by her smile falls upon checking the price tag. It’s far out of her budget. So the next week when he’s out on a case in Atlantic City, he swings by one of the few casinos that doesn’t have his picture framed on the wall of their security office. He wins more than the cost of the dress in an hour and leaves before anyone can get suspicious. The dress arrives at his apartment the same day he gets home, and he invites her over to surprise her with it. When she opens the box, her eyes go wide.

“Spencer, this is… this can’t be. It’s… do you know how expensive this is?” Y/N asks.

Bashfully, he replies, “Now might be a good time to mention I’m banned from casinos in almost every state for my card counting abilities.” It’s well worth the little effort he expended to see the way her face lights up at the sight of it. And though he’s never been a gambling man, when he sees her wearing it for the first time he considers trying his luck a little more often.

At times he worries he’s doing too much, but how could it ever be when the way she loves him has been so much more than enough? For the first time in his life, he feels like maybe he’s enough. When she says, “I love you,” he believes it. When she says, “I’ll be back,” he trusts her. He’s given another person more of his heart than he ever has before, and for once he’s not afraid of it breaking. She doesn’t mind the strange hours he works or heaviness he sometimes carries with him. When he wakes up from a nightmare, she holds him close and keeps him grounded. He sends postcards from each city he visits and she makes his favorite food when he comes home and home is suddenly a place they share. She moves into his apartment and it feels like it was never complete without her there.

Not long after, there is a case in Boston. Their terrifyingly intelligent unsub taunts Reid as he leaves the interrogation room. “Judge me all you want, Dr. Reid. But I’ve used my mind to change the world. You’ve done nothing with yours.” The words haunt him on the flight home. He sits on the back of the plane lost in thought. What has he done? Sure he’s saved lives, but could he have done more? Could someone else have used those gifts he’s been burdened with in a way that was better? Why does he have any of these talents? Why has he acquired any of these skills?

His phone chimes. A text from her. Brought home a new book from the library I think you’ll love! Can’t wait to see you, dearest. And it hits him.

It’s her. All along it’s been her.

The answer echoes in his head as he races home to her. Everything in his life has led him to her, has let him be the person she needs. He can memorize all her favorite songs and poems to recite for her when her anxiety gets the best of her. He can remember every date that matters to her and everything she adores. He can read her favorite books overnight to talk about them with her in the morning. He can profile from her body language and her microexpressions when she’s having a bad day and needs him to be there for her, even when she’s too afraid to ask for what she needs. When she asks absurd questions out of the blue, he can give her actual answers with the useless encyclopedia of knowledge he’s obtained over the years. When she needs a distraction his rambling finally proves useful. It’s all for her.

She’s the reason his mind doesn’t feel like a curse anymore. How could he ever think of it with disdain when it’s the reason he can picture every smile she’s ever let him see? When he can catalogue every wonderful word from her lips, every inch of her skin, every action that drives her wild.

Reid can’t seem to open the door to their apartment fast enough. When he finally steps inside, she’s sitting on the couch. She turns away from the book in her lap to smile at him. “Welcome back,” she says. Then, tilting her head, “Is everything okay?”

An unshakeable grin spreads across his face and he knows he must look like a madman right now as he crosses the living to sit beside her. “Everything’s perfect. I just… I had this epiphany. All the things I hate about myself, you love. And all the things I can do let me love you better. It just feels like everything – everything has led me to you. Even the bad things, I mean, being in prison forced me to take sabbaticals and if I hadn’t we wouldn’t have had that time together early on and maybe we wouldn’t have worked and I don’t believe in fate,” he says, taking a breath. “But I can’t help but feel like for the first time, I’m right where I’m supposed to be. With you. Like that’s where I was meant to be all along. And I… I just thought you should know.”

His long-winded rambling is rewarded with one of his favorite smiles from her – one that makes her eyes soft and puts sunsets to shame. The kind she wears when she is incandescently happy. Her fingers lace through his and they are a perfect fit in his big hands. “There is nowhere else I’d rather be,” she says, leaning in to kiss him.

All his life, Spencer Reid has been told he is gifted. But this time, he thinks it might actually be true. He holds the greatest gift the universe has ever granted him in his arms and knows that no part of him is a curse if he is loved by her.

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #fanfiction #gifted #brywrites #spencer reid fanfiction #reid x reader

662 notes · View notes

btsxmalereaders · 3 years

Text

'Cause I Like You

Pairing: Yang Jeongin x male reader.

Prompt: "H-how long have you been standing there?" / "Long enough."

Word Count: 1,5k

Fluff | Requested

Masterlist

Don't forget to vote on whosfan and stream!

"Well, it's not like I haven't dated before." Changbin says as he plops down in the sofa, without taking his eyes off his phone screen. "So it doesn't feel any different."

"Now you have to be extra careful if you don't want it to be public, though." Chan intervenes. "Or at least you have the freedom to announce it whenever you and your partner decide."

As they keep talking about dating and how some other rules of the company, Jeongin seems to be more interested on the conversation he's having with you over the phone.

He chuckles from time to time, typing as soon as he receives a message from you. Your conversations for now consisted on sending each other memes and funny videos you found, and Jeongin always found that refreshing when he needed a break from his schedule. He also appreciated how you always are there from him, listening to whatever he needed to let out and to advising him when he was troubling. You were best friends for many reasons, but the fact that Jeongin would always find comfort and understanding in you, was priceless.

"Uh, Earth calling Innie, can you hear us?"

"Jeongin!" Chan finally makes him take his eyes off his phone by raising his voice a little. "How much are you doing on the phone? Ever since you came in you're smiling and texting."

"The dating ban just finished a couple of days ago and you've already found a partner? You really don't waste your time, do you?" Changbin laughs, making the younger blush.

"Shut up, I'm just texting Y/N."

"That's the only thing you've been doing lately, you finally gathered up the courage to confess to him your feelings?" Changbin casually comments, making Chris laugh as well.

"What? I don't- I-"

"Please," He cuts off. "We weren't born yesterday. It's quite obvious at this point and denying it is really useless."

Jeongin looks at Chan, wanting him to defend him and say that Changbin is wrong, but he simply shrugs. "What do you want me to say?"

"You're the worst." He simply states and continues typing, this time with trembling hands and reddened cheeks as he tries to hide the growing smile on his face.

So what if he has a crush on you, anyways? Jeongin never thought of confessing before as you two have a great friendship that you deeply cared about and has been really meaningful since you were kids; plus, as oblivious as it sounds, he hasn't noted any interest from you, so he is at least thankful he can have you as a friend.

"It'd be no surprise to see people confessing to you sometime soon, you know?" Chan says and pats his shoulder, now changing the tone of his voice to sound a bit more sweet. "Our Innie has always been so cute."

"You're embarrassing him." Changbin chuckles.

"I know, it's my duty as his hyung." He jokes and stands up. "Don't be shy around us about this stuff. You don't have to hide how you feel."

Before Jeongin can say anything about it, Chan exits the room with a smile and a small and careful movement to ruffle his hair.

Y/N - 04:48 p.m.

let's meet up later? :)

He nervously types his answer and sends it, trying to ignore how Changbin is repeating how cute he looks blushed just to tease him.

He may do something about his feelings, but not until he knew for sure you felt the same way.

To his own surprise, the words addressed to him a few hours ago by his leader came true. As he was leaving the building to meet you, a girl of his age whom he knew quite well and with whom he had started a good friendship walked towards him shyly, her cheeks so red and her hands trembling behind her back as she was holding a small box with chocolates.

Jeongin smiles and greets her as usual, not knowing her intentions and just listening carefully to her stumbling as she tries to calm down and properly confess her feelings for him.

In that precise moment, you walk to the building, not expecting to find that scene as soon as you step in. Your hands grip tighter the small bouquet of sunflowers you just bought and turn on your heels immediately, making your way back to whatever place you find empty to take a deep breath and maybe vent out. Of course, not being aware that Jeongin saw you from the corner of his eye and with the intentions to find you as soon as he could.

Jeongin was moved, for sure. But he didn’t feel that way about her. He tried to be as careful and considered with her feelings, but had to tell her that, even though he was flattered, he couldn’t reciprocate those feelings. He didn’t say it out loud, but for a moment he wished it was you saying those words instead of her.

She understood it right away, and with a shy smile, apologies from him and a hug, she walked away. Jeongin rushed to the exit and almost ran in the direction where you walked too, making quick stops at the front of restaurants and shops, hoping he'd find you there.

His heart is beating fast, and he spends a few more minutes walking and running from side to side, earning stares from the people around him but he doesn't seem to give up on finding you.

He walks to a nearby park and just as he is about to pick up his phone and call you, he sees you sitting on one of the park benches, and gets closer from behind you when he realizes you are talking out loud.

It's easy for him to tell you were feeling down; the way your voice sounds already gives away that you were trying not to cry.

"...'i really like you'? And then what? What was I expecting? Of course he only sees me as a friend." You groan, covering your face with your hands out of frustration. "Now I have to pretend that him dating another person doesn't hurt me... If I were only a few seconds early... Would it have changed a thing?"

"If it makes you feel better, you weren't late." He simply says, walking around the bench to stand right in front of you.

The expression on your face was a poem as soon as you realized he was there; had he heard you complaining? Why was he even there, in the first place?

"Jeongin," You hesitated, feeling embarrassed. "H-how long have you been standing there?"

He sweetly smiles at you, "Long enough."

"Oh, uhm-"

"Can you say it again, please?" He pleads, and you immediately know what he's talking about.

Your whole feelings for him could be better explained in a lot of words, but right now all you need to say is simple. "Jeongin, I really like you."

Jeongin's smile becomes bigger, and you swear your heartbeats could be heard by him now. He extends his hand for you to take it, so you do, standing up and being closer to him. His hands carefully travel from your wrists to your shoulders, and he takes another small step so that you can feel his fresh breath against the skin of your lips, longing for a sweet kiss. "Y/N, I really like you too."

Finally, you hear those words you've been dreaming with for a while. You put your hands on his waist and get a few millimeters closer, feeling like you're on cloud 9 while being on his arms.

You're barely a few centimeters apart but Jeongin still asks: "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes," You nod. "Please."

Now with your eyes closed, he makes that last movement it was needed to make for your lips to finally meet. It's sweet; the velvety and tickling feeling making you feel butterflies in your stomach.

Jeongin is careful, subtly sliding his hands to the back of your neck and his lips slightly parting in an attempt to deepen the kiss. You quickly keep up with him, still slow and gentle.

You both pull apart as the seconds pass, recovering from the dizziness in your heads as you two experienced something you've been yearning, so intimate and significant. Your smiles adorn your flushed faces and the tips of your noses brush against each other.

Jeongin moves his hands to embrace you and leave more kisses on your cheeks, losing all sorrow and just letting the happiness act for him.

"Oh." He murmurs and you separate from him. "You got those for me?"

You turn on your feet to look at the abandoned sunflowers on the bench and you chuckle, picking them up and extending them out for him. "I did. You like them?"

Jeongin takes them with another shy smile, "I love them. Thank you."

"You used to say that if someone were to ask you out someday, you'd want them to give you sunflowers, so... I had to."

"That was years ago, how did you even remember that?"

"I set that as a reminder for the time I gathered up the courage to ask you out," You simply say and take his free hand. "So now I am taking you out. Shall we?"

Jeongin giggles and leaves a quick kiss on your lips. "Yes, let's do that."

#stray kids x male reader #kpop x male reader #skz x male reader #stray kids x m!reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids male reader #jeongin x reader #jeongin x male reader #yang jeongin #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #requested #stray kids mlm #jeongin x y/n

349 notes · View notes

thefallenbibliophilequote · 3 years

Text

I Carry Your Heart With Me

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Valentine's Day can be hard, but not only for singles.

Word count: 2,262

Warnings: implied smut, mainly fluff, some angst.

A/N: this is my Hoelentine gift to @fandomoneshots-imagines I really hope you'll like it, have a happy Hoelentine!!! @amythedvdhoarder @chrissquares @drabblewithfrannybarnes

A/N2: And yes, the poem by E. E. Cummings inspired this and I have to say that I got emotional writing this. The idea that inspired this fanfic though, was the song by Taylor Cruel Summer. As always let me know via ask if you want to be added to the taglist! be warned that this is not betad and errors are probably hanging out throughout this story, i take full responsibiblity!

No one is allowed to repost my writing or steal or copy my work! Reblog on tumblr is fine.

Masterlist

"I don't think it'll fit." Natasha tilted her head, trying to picture Tony's sketches coming to life in the ball room.

"Of course it will!" you heard the two of them coming into the common room.

"Hear ye, hear ye! I am happy to announce that next week we will be hosting a Valentine's Day party!" at the few groans in the room he continued. "No you can't skip it, and yes you will have to get dressed up nicely."

"What if we accidently get hurt on a mission and have to miss it?" Sam quipped at Tony who was not amused.

"Girls love heroes, so if you somehow end up in that situation clean yourself up and get to the party."

"You can't just force everyone here to go to a party, what if I want to stay in?" you raised your eyebrow at Tony, you liked the plans that you had for valentines and you were kind of looking forward to it actually. You weren't the only one.

"Want to bet on it?" He joked but you knew for him it was an actual challenge. "Besides, what are you going to do instead?"

"Nothing, maybe I will watch a shitty valentines movie?" You hoped he will let this go, a shitty movie was not in your schedule but he didn't have to know that. No one did.

"You need to get laid on Valentines." He shook his head.

"We could set you up! Come on, I'll make sure he'll be a good one." Natasha was smirking at your horrified look. You shook your head before the words could come out of your mouth.

"She doesn't need to be set up with, leave her alone. If she doesn't want to go to the stupid party then she shouldn't have to." Bucky called from where he was sitting opposite you on the other sofa. You met his eye for a moment before you both looked away from each other.

"Don't be so grumpy, Frosty! Maybe we should set you up too, then you won't call my party stupid."

"All I need is peace and quiet, which is why I won't be attending the party Tony." Bucky dismissed it, shifting in his seat. You could feel his unease at the subject.

"Don't worry, I'll find you a good one. Nat and I are the best at that." Sam winked at Bucky and put his arm around Natasha who wore a smirk matching his.

"Leave him alone too. Wow the two of you are disgusting." You got up from the chair, taking the tea from the table. "Now if you'll excuse me I'll go to my room and I am going to stay there because no one is setting me up."

With a stern look at Natasha you turned and walked to your room, leaving the door unlocked.

Trying to stifle a laugh you reached for the lamp on your nightstand and as it lit up a beautiful face of a certain supersoldier hanged mere inches from your face. Now that you could see his smile, you leaned forward to capture his lips causing him to moan.

"What took you so long?" he got into bed beside you.

"Sorry doll, I was chased around a little, had to disappear. I can't believe they want to set me up with some girl." He pulled you closer to him, chest to chest. "I don't need some gal, I already have the best gal right here with me."

"What a sap." You laughed it off, but your cheeks felt hot and you knew that he could tell. You let yourself sink into those brilliant blue eyes of his, sighing in content at finally letting the mask fall off and being able to spend time alone with your boyfriend.

"What if we told them?"

"What? Doll we can't tell them." He pouted at you. You wanted for a while now to let everyone know that you're dating but Bucky never wanted that, he insisted that it'll stay a secret.

"Bucky come on, we are almost a year together now and I don't want to spend our anniversary apart from you and at a stupid party with someone else." You leaned up a bit to look at him properly.

"But we talked about this. I want to keep this amazing thing that we have just for us, for now at least." He tried to take your chin but you pushed his hand away.

"But for how long Bucky? I don't want to keep secrets just to keep you! It's hard not being able to kiss you, hold you whenever we are anywhere public outside of our rooms. Sneaking into your bed and you sneaking into mind… it's a bit tiring." You admitted.

"I don't know for how long, but we will figure this out. It could be dangerous if people knew and- doll, I want to keep this safe. This is so private and I've never had something like this before."

You understood where he was coming from, it still tugged on your heart but you only nodded to him. Lying back down next to him, he reached over you for the lamp with a smirk on his face and he kissed you as the light went out.

It's been a long agonizing week and you barely got to see Bucky with his sudden mission and the planning for the big party Tony was throwing. And then the big day came.

It has been one year exactly. You opened your eyes that morning, not surprised to find your bed empty but you still wished he had stayed a little bit longer. You picked up the neatly folded note from the side of your bed, smiling when you realized what it was.

Doll,

Happy one year anniversary to us! You know I'm not good with words but I still want to try and explain to you what I feel. A year ago I shared my first kiss with a beautiful gal, and now a year later I woke up to having that special gal in my arms. I never thought that I'll be able to keep you mine for this long, and while I can't spend this special day with you I am looking forward to spending every other day with you.

I love you with all my heart Doll.

-your Bucky

Bucky still is a sweet talker, and it had you smiling like a little girl and left you a blushing mess. He liked playing with you like that, and you couldn't help but love him more for it. It didn't come easy for him to express these raw emotions but with time you found a way through and you treasured every time you get to see him like no one else ever would. Kissing the letter and closing it, you got up from the bed and went to start your day. Maybe you'll get Bucky alone in the kitchen.

The minute you got to the living room, your friends kidnapped you and kept you hostage, showing you guys that they want to set you up with, they talked about your dress and shoes and whatever else you couldn't find yourself to care about when you haven't seen Bucky yet.

A spring of butterflies gathered in your stomach when Bucky was finally there, coming back from a run. He smiled his beautiful smile at you and pointed his head to the kitchen which he was heading towards.

After he entered you made a half-assed excuse and went to the kitchen. You were smiling when you saw him there, immediately going for a hug which for your sadness didn't last long when you saw Clint and Steve were there too, and Sam was just entering. Murmuring a greeting to everyone, you made yourself coffee next to where Bucky stood.

At this point you were experts in hiding a relationship from spies and soldiers. No trying to whisper to each other when Steve was around; being cautious about what you are doing when the archer is in the room; talking as friends next to people and being affectionate when you were alone in a room which was alright since Bucky will know if someone is coming. So you enjoyed talking to him a bit now until Sam took him away from you, telling him about the girl he found for him.

Bucky noticed when you exited the room right after without saying a word. He wished he could get his friends to stop pushing the topic.

That was how the rest of the day went, and by the time the party started you still didn't get enough time with your boyfriend leaving you with this emptiness inside of you.

Natasha and Tony introduced you to the guy they set you up with, the guy they thought could compare to your Bucky but then again no one could compare to him.

He was nice enough, his name was Nick and he was a developer at Stark industries. Trying to keep the small talk found to be difficult especially when you spotted Bucky in the crowd being introduced to a stunning looking girl, and you couldn't help the jealousy that decided to take over your mind.

The night moved on and Bucky, being the 40s gentleman that he is, danced with the lady while you could barely focus. You wanted nothing more than to throw her into the farthest wall away from Bucky.

So settling for lightly turning Nick down, you went from him straight to the bar hoping a drink or two will help. Worst anniversary ever.

In the middle of the dance floor Bucky struggled to stay far enough from the girl in front of him without offending her and making a scene. But the girl tried getting closer to him, and there were so many people around him he didn't have anywhere to go, then he saw you sitting alone at the bar crestfallen.

Seeing his girl so sad, that did it for him. He went away from the girl and knew exactly what he was doing as he walked towards the band that was playing with a look he knew belonged to the winter soldier, it did the job as the people scrambled to get out of his way until he got up on the stand and sent the singer away, pulling the microphone out of its stand.

With one breath in he started speaking.

"Everyone I need your attention, please. Cut the music." At the sharp tone of his voice all of the music stopped and the only thing heard in the big room were the whispers in the crowd. There were more people there looking at him now than he realized, but he wouldn't let himself back down now, it was too important for him. Looking out he caught you looking at him and smiled.

"Now, there's a beautiful girl here in this room tonight and she means everything to me but I was too goddamn scared of what will happen if I admitted what I am admitting right now." He never let his eyes wander from yours. "Y/N Y/L/N I love you more than anything in this world and it's been a year since I got over my fear and finally kissed you and now, now I want the whole world to know that I'm the luckiest guy in the world to be able to call you mine. I never let myself hope, aspire, or dream that I could one day find everything I wanted in a person but then I met you and you wrecked any plan I had to stray away from love.

You're my everything, my Doll," Bucky got down from the stage and walked to you until he stood in front of you and could see the emotional unshed tears your eyes held when you got out of the chair to stand in front of him. "I'm sorry it took me this long, and believe me when I say that I wanted to show you off as mine to anyone who dared to look at you, but I was scared and now it doesn't matter."

When a tear spilled out he wiped it from your cheeks and a smile spread on your face at his touch.

"I LOVE YOU." He shouted into the microphone even when his entire world now just consisted of you and only you. He repeated it again in a whisper just for good measure. "I love you and I need you to know that you're the only one for me Doll because you've got my heart in the palm of your hand and no matter how many times I'll say it it'll still not be enough to explain my feelings towards you. I love you Y/N, and I will love you until I die, and if there's life after that I'll love you then."

Not waiting anymore you threw the microphone to the side, not caring about the noise it made when you crushed your lips into Bucky's. You felt him grin into the kiss as he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

After the quiet there were cheers in the background but you could barely hear them over the pound of your two hearts, synchronized perfectly with each other.

"Your heart is safe with me, I'll carry it with mine." It was a promise between two lovers, a secret of just the two of them, and Bucky knew he had nothing to fear when he had her.

Tags: @callmeluna @sstanbarnes @buckys-other-punk @drabblewithfrannybarnes @easygoingtheatre @that-one-person @justab-eautifulmess @onceupona-happilyeverafter @wipplogg @supraveng @bucky-the-thigh-slayer @ayybtch @kitkatd7

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #fluff #angst #little bit #valentines #writing challenge #marvel #bucky barnes fluff #happyhoelentinesday2021 #my writing #i carry your heart with me

312 notes · View notes

author-morgan · 3 years

Text

Title: Picnics and Flowers Pairing: m!Eivor x fem!Reader Rating: T Summary: With the help of your little sister and her band of rogues, Eivor and you finally have to face the feelings you’ve kept from one another. Plot idea by @angstygunslinger. just took me six months to write it.

A FRUSTRATED SIGH escapes your lips as your little sister dashes off with the piece of parchment you were using for a letter —now half-written. Rising from one of the tables in the longhouse, you start after her. “Helga!” You shout, catching her disappearing toward the granary. “Come back here!” You round the corner of the longhouse in haste, colliding with a wall of warm muscle, the both of you falling at the sudden impact. A warm and familiar laugh fills your ears from beneath you. “Eivor!” You gasp, eyes wide in shock —he was not due back to Ravensthorpe for some time. He smiles at the flush of color creeping up to your cheeks. “Sorry, I was–”

“Chasing after Helga,” he finishes, laughing again, “as always.” Much had changed since leaving Norway, but Helga’s antics for mischief had not —you swear she must be one of Loki’s spawns with how often you have to chase after her and keep her from getting into serious trouble. You roll off Eivor, and he’s quick to rise, offering his hand —calloused from battle— to help you up.

Eivor smiles as he brushes the dirt from your shoulders and the smudge on your cheek. “It is good to see you,” he notes, the amusement gone from his voice. Of all the people in Ravensthorpe, he always finds himself missing you the most. Your gaze flicks away from Eivor, unable to meet his clear blue eyes and the soft smile hiding behind his golden beard without making a fool of yourself. “But weren’t you chasing after your sister?” Eyes widening, you dart off after Helga again. Eivor shakes his head, laughing to himself as he conducts his rounds.

EIVOR CALLS FOR a feast to celebrate the Raven Clan’s new allies in the north and his return to the Ravensthorpe. For now, he has no intention of leaving —at least not until the time comes to secure another alliance with the lords of England or Sigurd summons him away. It is a good feeling, knowing you will see Eivor more often —like the days before you fled Norway. You watch as he makes rounds, speaking to Gunnar and Wallace, among others who call this growing settlement home. He may not wear the title of Jarl, but Eivor is a good leader with the love and respect of his people.

Helga stumbles to where you sit, hiccupping with every other step and trying her best to hide the cup of mead behind her back. Part of you wants to laugh; you’d gotten into similar trouble as a young girl —Eivor and Sigurd your accomplices— but Helga is all you have in this world, and despite calling you sister, you’re the only mother she’s really known, too. “You are too young to be sipping on Tekla’s mead,” you tell her, giving her a cup of watered ale instead. She opens her mouth to protest, but you shake your head. “I won’t hear anymore on it, Helga.”

Pouting, she clambers onto the bench next to you, reaching for the last remaining piece of a berry tart at the table. If she can’t have any more mead and fun, then she’ll eat enough sweets to make you stay up all night to hear her complaints. Helga follows your gaze as she bites into the sweet raspberry tart Tarben made. You’re watching Eivor as he speaks to Mayda and Bertham —young lovers in a predicament with disapproving parents. Helga can’t say she’s surprised to find you staring at him. You seem to do that a lot. With the glances you and Eivor have exchanged all evening from across the longhouse, and after snatching a half-written poem from your desk a few days ago, she decides it’s time for her greatest plan yet. “Do you like Eivor?” She asks —words slurring together.

“Of course,” you answer, unsure why she would even ask a question like that. Helga knows how close you and Eivor are and how he oft comes in the late hours of the night seeking counsel, especially if he and Sigurd were at odds over something. “He’s one of my dearest friends.” Nigh every story worth telling from your childhood features Eivor.

Your little sister rolls her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “No” —she shakes her head, whole body squirming on the bench— “not like that. Like how,” she pauses, trying to find the right way to describe it, “Gudmund and Gudrun like each other?”

Skimming the hall, you find the two shipwrights —having sent Eira to bed, Gudrun sits on Gudmund’s knee, sharing laughs and exchanging quick kisses. You ignore the way your stomach and heart seize at the thought of having something like that with Eivor and decide not to respond to Helga’s drunken question, but she thinks silence is just as good as a yes or no. You narrow your eyes, seeing her struggling to keep hers open after drinking all that mead and stuffing her belly with meat, bread, and sweets. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?” The question perks Helga up. Across the table, Hytham hides his laughter behind a cup of ale.

“We are celebrating,” Eivor notes, throwing an arm around your shoulder as he sits next to you with a tankard of mead in hand —he winks at Helga.

IN THE WEEK following the feast, Helga tells the other children in Ravensthorpe to meet her behind the stables. Sylvi, Knud, and Eira all appear after their morning chores are done, looking to Helga for what their next adventure entails. Last time, they put a cowpie in Osbert’s slipper and spent the rest of the day hiding and running from the collector as he chased them about the settlement with his hammer and chisel, threatening to carve off their noses while they slept. The empty threats made for an amusing afternoon.

But this time, Helga’s plan is not nearly as nefarious. No, she likes to think she’ll be doing you a favor since you seem oblivious to the obvious. “He’s always staring at her,” Sylvi says, peeking over the stable fence to see Eivor watching you pick raspberries to help Valka with her elixirs and salves. “You know, they both smile more around each other too,” Eira whispers. All of Ravensthorpe seemed brighter when you and Eivor reunite.

“I have a plan,” Helga announces to her cohort of merry troublemakers, motioning the three of them closer.

HELGA FINDS EIVOR fishing off the docks, a woven basket next to his feet almost filled with eels and trout —a successful morning, which means he’ll be done by the time you finish with the stew and her plan can come to fruition. “Eivor!” Helga shouts, skipping onto the wharf and stopping next to him, peering down into the murky water of the river Nene. “Will you come to our picnic?”

He regards Helga and the sweet smile on her round face —she’s up to something. “I think I can make time,” Eivor tells her, what few duties he had could wait until the evening hours. Besides, whatever your sister is plotting will undoubtedly be far more entertaining than writing correspondences to the Raven Clan’s allies.

“Can we pick flowers first?” Helga asks —she made sure to find a patch of wildflowers nearby where your favorite wildflowers in England grew. With you tending to a pot of stew in your shared cabin, she knew this plan would work out just dandy. Eivor agrees, pulling in the last of his catch for the day —a good size bullhead. Taking the basket of fish and eels to Merton, Eivor follows Helga as she leads him to the eastern part of the settlement, where there’s a dense patch of wildflowers growing atop a small knoll, knowing she’s up to something but saying nothing of it. He’s always found Helga’s antics to be amusing, but not quite as amusing as your exasperation after catching her getting into mischief.

“Those are–” Helga starts, looking at the handful of purple vetch and cornflowers “–your sister’s favorite,” Eivor finishes with a smile. He kneels, offering one of the flowers to Helga, tucking the stalk of vetch behind her ear. “Can you keep a secret?” Eivor asks, already knowing she couldn’t —the quickest way for Ravensthorpe, and even Fornburg, to learn of something was to tell Helga and tell her it was a secret too. Leaning closer, he whispers at her ear, smiling as her eyes and smile widen. Eivor rises, looking down at your sister with a glint of mischief in his eyes too. “Where should I meet you and your friends, Helga?” He asks.“

“Under the tree near the waterfall by Valka’s,” she answers, scurrying back to find her friends and tell them the good news.

SIGHING, YOU SIT down a small pot of stew under the tree where Helga said to come —only your sister and her friends are nowhere in sight. You pinch the bridge of your nose, not believing you’d fallen victim to another one of her ploys. You’d been up since the crack of dawn to make a pot of pork and leek stew to pair with a loaf of Tarben’s brown bread and apple preserves. Hands on your hips, you glance around, searching for Helga and her friends up in the tree, or hiding in the bushes, but it’s just you, birdsong, and the soothing calm of the waterfall.

The low croak of a raven perching on a branch above startles you —Sýnin. The raven looks down at you, croaking again, but this time it sounds as though he’s laughing at your folly. You scowl at Sýnin, jumping when you feel someone tap on your shoulder. Turning, you find Eivor standing behind you, holding a bouquet of wildflowers with an oddly bashful look about him as he rubs the scar on his neck. “Eivor?” You ask, heart racing and stomach-churning with butterflies —you hadn’t expected to see him so early in the day, especially in your current state. Eivor doesn’t care if your hair isn’t plaited or the apron you wear has a few stains. To him, you’re just as beautiful now as you are dolled up for feasts.

Remembering the flowers, he pushes them forward. Smiling, you take the bouquet. Vetches and cornflowers are among your favorite, but Eivor already knows that. You inhale the peppery sweet scent of both flowers —smile widening and mood improving after being caught up in another of Helga’s games. “Be a pity to let this go to waste,” Eivor remarks, gesturing to the pot of stew.

In agreement with that, you and Eivor sit beneath the great tree. You ladle out two bowls of stew while Eivor slices into the loaf of brown bread. “I think we’ve both been deceived,” you mutter, still glancing around the pool and bushes —expecting to see Helga hiding somewhere.

Eivor laughs, knowing it to be the truth. Helga had orchestrated the perfect moment —the perfect opportunity— for him to confront and confess the feelings he’d kept locked away for years now. Eivor decided quite some time ago he’d prefer to love you in secret to protect the precious friendship you shared, then speak of his heart’s desires and risk everything. He sets aside his bowl, shifting. “I don’t mind if it means time with you,” he smiles, reaching for one of your hands. It’s instinct to curl your fingers around his —thumb running over his scarred knuckles. Eivor whispers your name, leaning toward you.

He kisses you —without warning or permission— lips brushing against yours, only just. A chance for you to pull back, but you don’t. Smiling, you press your lips against his, chasing away any doubt he could have harbored of if his sentiments are returned. You lift a hand to his scarred cheek, loosely combing through his golden beard. There’s a pause, where you both draw back, just barely, letting out shaky breaths. Eivor slips his hand from yours, cradling the back of your head as he takes another kiss, this one firmer —confident— taking the breath from your lungs yet calming the racing of your heart. “Eivor,” you breathe upon parting, still cupping his cheek. His smile is wide, and his eyes clearer than you have ever seen before. He leans back in, kissing the corner of your lips and then your cheek, knowing these kisses are just the first of many more.

Glancing over his shoulder, Eivor sees Helga and her accomplices peeking out from behind Valka’s hut. “You can all come out now,” he calls, laughing. Your sister and her friends come forward, unable to hide their victorious grins. You wish to scold Helga for the deception, but you cannot find it within yourself to be upset with her, especially not when Eivor takes your hand, kissing your knuckles before he begins ladling out stew into the remaining bowls for the children with a smile. No, this time, you may even have to thank her for her antics, for she had just brought you together with the man you love.

[taglist: @angstygunslinger @vanillabeanlattes @withered-poppies @ananriel @itseivwhore @maximalblaze @dynamicorbit @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @elizabethroestone @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @thedragonqueenfan @callmemythicalminx @edelaen ] if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know!

#Eivor #Eivor Wolfsmal #Eivor x Reader #m!Eivor #m!Eivor x Reader #male Eivor #male Eivor x Reader #Eivor Imagine #Eivor Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Valhalla #Assassin's Creed #my writing

116 notes · View notes

stiltonbasket · 3 years

Note

Hi!! Could I perhaps request LQR baby-sitting A-Yu and A-Lan for the renouncement verse? Thanks, love you <333

(brief author’s note: please please reblog if you can, since that’s how we get prompts for future chapters!)

Lan Qiren’s nephews keep overworking themselves.

This wouldn’t be a bad thing if they hadn’t been doing it for the last several years, but it’s beginning to wear on them. Xichen’s eyes are always red and swollen from writing letters by candlelight, and Lan Qiren doesn’t remember the last time he saw Wangji without trade reports in his arms and spit-up milk on his robes, so he finally puts his foot down and decides to give all three of them a break in early autumn.

“Xichen, go take a soak in the hot springs,” he orders, sweeping into the hanshi and shoving everything on Lan Xichen’s desk up one of his sleeves. “Now.”

Lan Xichen is so exhausted that he tries to paint a line of calligraphy onto the expensive wood of his writing table. “Shufu?”

“You heard me,” Lan Qiren scolds. “Go on! I’ll finish the petition forms by tomorrow.”

Somewhat bewildered, Lan Xichen ambles out through the hanshi’s back door and splashes into the hot spring, leaving Lan Qiren to march down to the jingshi and confiscate all of Wangji’s trade contracts. He also confiscates baby A-Lan, who is lying in Lan Wangji’s lap and trying to eat his jade pendant.

“What are you doing?” Wangji asks, watching him tug the rest of his letters out of Wei Ying’s hands and stuff those up his sleeves, too. “Uncle?”

“You and Wei Ying need a rest,” he announces. “I am taking your work to the meishi, and I am also taking your children. Do not come to fetch them until sunset.”

And with that, he straps Wei Shuilan to his chest and takes Lan Yu by the hand, bundling them off to his own residence before their parents have time to do much more than blink at him in confusion.

“Huh,” Wei Wuxian says, after he leaves. “I think your uncle has a point, actually. Let’s go to bed, Lan Zhan.”

When Lan Qiren gets back to the meishi, he settles A-Lan down for a nap and gives Xiao-Yu a snack and some silver puzzle rings to improve his hand-eye coordination. “It almost reminds me of the old days,” he sighs, as Shuilan kicks her chubby little feet before falling asleep with her thumb in her mouth. “Even if Wangji never went down for naps without a fuss.”

Lan Qiren was nineteen when he became acting sect leader, and he was also nineteen when he received custody of Xichen: not coincidentally, because the clan hoped that taking charge of the sect would prevent him from raising his nephew and allow one of them to take over his care instead. But Lan Qiren was nothing if not stubborn, so Lan Huan went with him everywhere—to meetings, discussion conferences, and even the odd wedding now and then, and was generally such an amiable baby that he adjusted to his uncle’s fraught travelling schedule without a fuss. In fact, the first time Lan Huan met Jiang Yanli had been during a week-long cultivation event at Lotus Pier, yawning in a sling on Lan Qiren’s back while Jiang Yanli napped on Jiang Fengmian’s chest, and Jiang Fengmian had even mentioned the possibility of a betrothal between the two babies when they were older.

“My wife wants to contract an engagement between Xiao-Li and a son born to her sworn sister, but Jin-zongzhu and Jin-furen have not yet had a child,” Jiang-zongzhu had sighed, letting his daughter’s little fingers wrap around his. He looked heartbroken at the mere thought of parting from her, Lan Qiren remembers—which was probably why he named her yan li, to hate separation, because Jiang Yanli’s premature birth nearly stole her away from her parents the moment she entered the world.

“Lanling is closer to Gusu than Yunmeng,” Lan Qiren pointed out. Yunmeng Jiang would make an excellent alliance by marriage, and he was fairly certain at the time that Jiang Yanli would grow up to resemble her mild-mannered father rather than her hot-tempered mother. He was right, of course, since Jiang-guniang took after Jiang Fengmian in both looks and character, but contracting a betrothal with her for Xichen would have done both of them a disservice—because Xichen could never have loved her as she would have wanted to be loved, and he could never have given her children, either.

“Shugong?” a little voice says at Lan Qiren’s elbow, distracting him from the possibility of a world where Lan Huan married Jiang Yanli and crippled Lanling Jin’s influence after the Sunshot Campaign. “Xiao-Yu is done with the puzzle. I have another one?”

“Already?” Lan Qiren asks. This is yet another trait Xiaohui inherited from Wei Wuxian despite not being related to him, and Lan Qiren feels his heart swell with pride at his great-nephew’s intelligence. “Then you may play with the wooden blocks on that shelf, and see how high you can build your tower without letting it fall over.”

Xiao-Yu settles down on the hearthrug to stack up the fine-carved building blocks, and Lan Qiren goes through his nephew’s papers in peace for another hour before A-Lan wakes up from her nap and wails for her milk at the top of her lungs.

“Do not cry,” Lan Qiren soothes, securing the child in her swaddle before heating a bottle with a warming talisman. “Here is your supper, and your xiongzhang is there on the mat.”

He has to keep A-Lan in his arms after that, since his tiny great-niece is so used to being held that putting her down would break her little heart; and Lan Qiren would rather die than let go of her, because he dearly misses holding his nephews, and not so long ago he was certain he would never have the chance to hold a baby again.

And then, as if cuddling A-Lan to his chest wasn’t wonderful enough, Xiao-Yu pulls one of Wangji’s old picture books out of Lan Qiren’s storage trunk and runs over to sit in his lap, pushing the trade contracts aside and replacing them with the fable of the magic lotus lantern.

“Shugong, read to Xiao-Yu?” the little boy begs, snuggling into Lan Qiren’s overgown next to his cooing baby sister. “A-Die likes this story best.”

Of course he does, Lan Qiren thinks, as he flips the cover open and starts to read. The tale of the magic lotus lantern was written about a child whose mother was stolen away from him, taken back to the heavens by force when her godly brother discovered the magic lantern that illuminated her way to the mortal world—and for a while Wangji believed that his mother was like the immortal Sanshengmu, who loved a human man and had a child with him before returning to the realm she came from. Sanshengmu’s story ended with her being reunited with her husband and son, and the little Wangji never gave up hope that his own mother might come back in much the same way, even after he was old enough to stop believing in fairy stories.

“Why did they fight?” Xiao-Yu asks, leaning closer to see the picture of the goddess’s lover with his brush and scroll. “That’s against the rules!”

“Sometimes people who love one another fight because they cannot understand their feelings,” Lan Qiren tells him, tapping the point of his soft button nose. “So it was with Sanshengmu and Liu Yanchang-gongzi, and when he awoke, she revealed her true identity, and explained why she sent a rainstorm to plague him after she read his poem.

“Both apologized profusely. Days went by, and Liu Yanchang finally recovered. By then the goddess and the scholar had fallen deeply in love, and marriage naturally ensued. Encouraged by Goddess Sanshengmu, Liu Yanchang continued with his journey to the capital to take the imperial examination, and months later, the goddess gave birth to their son, whom she named Chenxiang.

“At the same time, the goddess’s celestial family had learned about her marriage to an earthly man. Her brother, known as Divine Erlang, found his unruly sister and demanded that she renounce her new family and return with him to their heavenly home, but Sanshengmu refused, and battled him with the power of her magical lotus lantern…”

“I want to paint a portrait of this,” Wei Wuxian whispers, when he and Lan Zhan creep into the meishi after sunset to find Lan Qiren fast asleep on the floor, with A-Lan snoozing on his chest and Xiao-Yu curled up in the crook of his arm. “They’re so sweet, Lan Zhan!”

“Mm,” Lan Zhan murmurs, his eyes softening as he looks at the open book on his uncle’s desk. Lan Qiren clearly just finished reading it before he fell asleep, because the book is open to the very last picture; a color painting of a goddess embracing a youth and an older man with a lotus-shaped lantern hanging at the crook of her elbow. “Bring a blanket and a pillow, Wei Ying. We should let them sleep.”

(Lan Qiren often finds himself toting his little great-nephew and niece around the Cloud Recesses after that, and Xiao-Yu’s favorite place to play in his parents’ absence is always the house where his shugong lives.)

#wangxian #mo dao zu shi #my fic #wangxian arranged marriage au #renouncement verse #lan qiren #lan xiaohui #wei shuilan

192 notes · View notes

aaetherius · 3 years

Text

@cxffexngel:

[ cxffeexngel ] modern AU!! || because this has been in my mind for days sFÑKDSFDf have soft time!

Unlike the pouring rains of an announced storm and a message sent in a whim. Sandalphon’s invitation fell on a calm day, with pillowy clouds dusting the canvas of the stretching blue skies on a quiet afterwork hours of sundown. A confession made in days passed and an evergrowing bond with stolen gazes and lips touching whenever extra eyes did not pry over them. Sandalphon adored kissing lucifer, adored those warm welcomes whenever Lucifer was the one already first thing in the morning for their shared shifts, or taking that mantle himself and welcome the taller with cups ready in their favorite spot under the gaze of the sun filtered through the windows adorned in flowers that never had ceased coming as offerings and all the more secret words his voice couldn’t hope to whisper to the other. The you g man resided now during one of those free days closing the flowershop, dusting off tables and leaves, changing pots and moving those that needed extra hours of sun before the evening would claim the rest of the day thorough. The slightest tinge of anxiety clinging behind his mind, after mulling for hours to pour just exactly which words to type over the phone and let Lucifer know he could come over if he wanted to, having deleted the message over and over until settling with the simplest ’ I have nothing to do, feel free to come over if you want ’ only to be replied within seconds with the most adorable message, if not perhaps a bit formal considering Lucifer’s tendencies if not to how he adorned his texts with cutesy stickers the young man failed to not blush for or ever not find them less than endearing when they were between sheep, drawn cats happy with sparkles and very colorful animated ones. Ah, he really finds ways to fall in love with this man everyday, isn’t he? With the flowershop properly locked, and turning over the ’ Open’ sign to seal it for the day, the young barista and shoopkeeper is done for the day, the welcoming aroma of freshly brewed coffee permeating every inch of his home as it rests in idle silence, if not by the gentle song of water heating over the stove not too far from the main room - and the open bags of beans and cups ready to be filled. For now, Sandalphon only attempts drowning every voice about how anything could go wrong, his coffee going acid, the temperature not being right - thinking too much like Gran often liked to poke fun at the cranky barista those days the young man inadvertently broke into his house somehow despise having checked each of his locks twice or even trice just to ensure that the pest the other adored to make himself out to be couldn’t get in. Always futile because it seemed like no lock was match against Gran’s lockpicking and his indestructible will to simply invite himself into Sandalphon’s home. Sometimes even with the girl in blue who made it even easier for the barista to simply cave in and let them stay and steal his food. - those memories are enough to ignore the impending doom that could brew should he mull over the little details about this and that. A soundless sigh slips past somewhat dry lips, tired eyes blinking calmly when attention flicks towards one of the windows as gentle breeze blows curtains into a serene dance matching leaves of branches and leaves outside, palm over his cheek scratching aimlessly any tension left that arises as spontaneously as it leaves. Only finding light within the autumn scarlet within his eyes when spotting the familiar shine of opal locks shimmering behind the blurriness barely transparent curtains of white could offer casting a shadow over that form that Sandalphon could arguably recognize even amidst a crowed street. His body moving before he could think towards the main door, and fingers curling tightly over the handle to twist it and push the frame open for the other, a sheepish smile drawn all over dusted rose pale features, sporting Lucifer’s borrowed hood and black legging the young man often wore whenever there was no work to be done, and the always needed pair of heeled boots rarely Sandalphon took off. “A-Ah! Welcome, Lucifer! ” Sandalphon almost wanted to visibly wince at how drearily hoarse his voice comes despise his initial joy - but he doesn’t, instead clearing his throat with a small cough over his palm. “ Please come on! I’m readying our cups, feel free to choose any seat if you’re tired. ” Continues, while stepping to the side giving the taller enough space so he could finally step in, and their time together start and go along however it takes - ah, how feeble his heart is that the thought alone of Lucifer in his home makes it leap into his throat, and rob any coherent thought or even the plans he mulled over the whole morning about everything.

Sandalphon’s text had kick started his heart after he had returned to his apartment to try out a handful of new coffee recipes he had written down in his journal when he hadn’t been attending to customers this afternoon - something that had become a less frequent habit of his following his confession as the slow hours were typically spent with his attention fixed on the barista instead of a notebook these days. He’d texted the other back before thinking much about his response - he could never deny Sandalphon’s company, and he had tossed off his work clothes to change into something a tad bit more casual in a matter of minutes as well…only to pause as he was slipping out of the door with a mildly displeased Ellie seated comfortably, he thinks, on the plush cushion nestled inside of the feline backpack strapped safely around his shoulders. After all, he couldn’t leave her alone for the night - that would be downright criminal when she’s spent a night on her since he had rescued her. His unwilling companion (who would have been perfectly content to romp around the apartment unattended) aside, he had realized that he hadn’t prepared anything to give to the other. Perhaps it was a somewhat trivial notion, but despite all of the flowers and beautiful poems Sandalphon had gifted him with, he hadn’t done much in return for the other. His own knowledge of flowers had come from the barista himself, and he had little talent when it came to writing out meaningful poems. Even Michael, who had known him nearly his entire life, struggled to follow his notes. Neat as his handwriting naturally was, he had a terrible habit of jotting down notes in a manner only he could truly understand. Ah, and bringing flowers to a flowers hop didn’t seem like a suitable gift either. Sweets wouldn’t do wither, Sandalphon favored bitter and savory foods, much like how he preferred his coffee. So, quickly, the smile upon his features had faded as he lingered in the doorway of his apartment, smiling softly at the various neighbors that walked past him. A low hum rumbles in throat for moment as he strokes his chin absentmindedly before turning tail back into the apartment, gingerly removing a handful of things from the cluttered bookshelf and carefully tucking them away behind Ellie so they weren’t terribly apparent before he slipped outside to a day distinctly unlike the one he had mindlessly invited Sandalphon over on when it had been storming dreadfully.

The walk to the flower shop is a short one, yet, despite that, he checks his phone constantly on the way. He had memorized the address when the other had sent it to him, but the rush of joy that had held his heart tightly enough that it made his chest throb was enough to make that information leap to the very back of his mind. He had never been to the barista’s home before, and he hadn’t been aware of the fact that he owned a flower shop until very recently - to say he was delighted would be an understatement when he feels something akin to excitement for the first time in years; perhaps for the first time since he had dabbled in coffee that fateful say more than a decade ago. And his hand comes up to press firmly against the center of his chest as if doing so would somehow quell the swan song of his heart as every step brought him closer to the one he loves most. For so long, truthfully, he had felt numb - the emotions he harbored had been tucked deep within him, unable to break free from the constant guilt and sense of melancholy that hung over him. He had forgotten what feeling excited was like - what looking forward to something could be like, and he had thought, for quite some time now, that he was incapable of feeling something so unbridled. But Sandalphon brings him more joy than he could have ever dreamed of experiencing, despite the pain that comes alongside it, so he can only tighten his hold around the fabric clumped between his fingers as he exhales in the humid air, and allows his gaze to wander upwards towards the clear sky. Its color paling now that the better part of the day had come and gone, but it still casts a gentle, blue shadow onto his pale features as he stops in front of the flower ship, and Sandalphon’s home. Pearly strands of hair absorb the colors cast upon them, and reflect them back with a gentle shimmer that almost makes it appear as if wayward strands of his hair are glowing in an array of dazzling colors. Sometimes, he’s reminded, the world can be a beautiful place. But, truly, he’s always found the sky to be something remarkable - something free; something wondrous, and grand. As a child, he used to dream of reaching his hand up high enough to touch the clouds despite knowing all he would come away with were damp fingers. Even now, a small part of him is still drown to the vast blue, and the gentle, creamy clouds that float through it without a care.

The click of the door draws him away from his thoughts, and he quickly loosens his hold on the white shirt he’s wearing before trying, and failing, to smooth out the wrinkles he’s formed in the fabric before trying, and failing once more, to cover them with the light blue sleeve of his hoodie as an impossibly warm smile spills onto his rosy lips. Their hue nearly the same shade as the color that dusts over Sandalphon’s features, though the utterly fond look stretched across Lucifer’s visage doesn’t quite match the other’s sheepish one. And it brightens all the more once he realizes the barista is wearing the hoodie he had borrowed from him. And that, too, makes his chest ache, but in a different way than the anticipation that had crept through his bloodstream a moment ago. Love is a strange thing, he thinks, it’s not a singular emotion but rather a collection of so many complex feelings he can’t place individual names to that he hardly knows what he’s supposed to feel at any given point in time. “Good evening, Sandalphon,” he offers, his voice gentle and soft and full of affection. And the sound of the other’s name appears to be all it takes for Ellie to meow loudly from her bubbly, lavender prison upon Lucifer’s back as she tries to crane her neck around to curiously peek beyond her owner’s shoulder at the younger man - her keen eyes narrowing into a glare once she spots that familiar nest of auburn hair. Lucifer, for his part, seems entirely unaware of Ellie’s struggles when he’s utterly captivated by the sight of Sandalphon dressed in his hoodie alongside his typical leggings and heels. “Thank you, and thank you for allowing me to visit you. I’m looking forward to tasting the coffee you’ve made, and – ah, I have something for you, as well, when we have a moment.” It’s hard for him to focus when he’s still awestruck by the sight of the homely flower shop that doubles as the barista’s residence. Something about it seems magical to him, perhaps if only because it’s where Sandalphon lives. And he can’t imagine a place he would rather be than beside the other, yet, even so, stepping into the smaller’s home is a strange mixture of comfortable and wonderful. His eyes wander everything and anything for a moment before he shakes his head gently to snap his attention back to Sandalphon. “I’m grateful you invited me over, and I’m so very happy to see you, Sandalphon.” Slowly, he reaches out his hand to push a few strands of auburn hair behind the other’s ear - his fingers gently gliding over the other’s skin as he leans forward to place a kiss in greeting upon the top of the smaller’s head before withdrawing again at the sound of another meow echoing against the rounded window of the backpack Ellie is still seated in, and he can’t stop the hoarse chuckle that falls from his lips. “Forgive me, I may have brought an uninvited guest along. She has never been left alone, so I’m afraid I didn’t have the heart to leave her behind today. I’m certain; however, that she’ll be on her best behavior. She’s rather fond of you after all.” Fond is not the word most people would use to describe Ellie’s feelings towards rival, and it most certainly wasn’t how the feline felt to the man she had dubbed an intruder in her quiet, and peaceful life, but, well, Lucifer, for whatever reason, was convinced they got along wonderfully.

#cxffexngel #| ☩ i would bend the skies; realign all the stars in space; just to be with you ☩ (cxffexngel: sandalphon) |#| ☩ to meet with you again ☩ (verse: au - modern) |#| ☩ thread 100: sandalphon: cxffexngel ☩ |#{ Thank you for sending this! }#{ Okay so I got hit with the new post editor finally and I am attempting to use my old man brain to figure out #how to works and what the heck I am doing }#{ so if I post this and it looks like a hot mess I'm sorry GFDJKHJBFCGKHD }#{ I am not afraid to admit that I have not a single clue as to what I am doing but I am doing it anyway gfdfjghjdkhjsf }#{ Lucifer 100% has one of those cat window backpacks no I do not accept constructive criticism bvfghfdkgjfvd }#| ☩ and once again the sky rises; sincere and melancholic ☩ (ic) |#{ Oops forgot that one fghdjgfjkd tungle ate all of my tags with the update ;u.u; fdjghjdhsj }

22 notes · View notes

noire-pandora · 2 years

Note

“This reminded me of you.” for whoever you feel like writing ❤

Hello and thank you for the prompt! I'm writing this for Damir Cadash/Cassandra. For @dadrunkwriting

The poem isn't mine. It's called Air Vif by Paul Eluard. I found the English translation here.

Waiting was not Cassandra's forte. Waiting patiently while others travelled Theda's roads to save the world did not appeal to her.

Cassandra moved from one corner of the room to the other, dodging books and scrolls on the floor. She counted the minutes and hours since Damir had left for the Hissing Wastes to face the Venatori who threatened the safety of the world.

Instead of taking her with him to protect him and the rest of the group as best she could, Damir advised rest after days of fighting with the numerous enemies who ambushed them along the way.

"I do not need rest!" she said, still pacing. "I can take care of myself very well."

A sharp pain ran through her thigh, as if contradicting her words. She hissed and sat down on the Inquisitor's bed, biting her lower lip to stifle a whimper.

Of course Damir was right. She knew he was. Even the strongest warrior needs time to recover and reflect. Especially in times of war. But the thought of her lover fighting alone, without another warrior to watch his back, to protect him from the Venatori who wished him dead, only brought anger and frustration to her heart.

Frustration at her own body, at the flesh that ached from days of trecking in the snow, at the scars that burned night after night. In moments like these, she wished the Maker made her as resilient as Andraste.

Cassandra sighed and rubbed her temples. The throbbing headache announcing a long, restless night. How could she sleep in a bed with fresh sheets and a comfortable mattress when the Inquisitor-her lover-roared without her shield to protect him?

With a grunt, she rose to her feet again to continue her nervous walk, her back giving a cry of pain in protest at her decision. Even if Damir would be disappointed in her decision, she could not rest. She refused to rest.

Until a book hidden under the Inquisitor's pillow caught her attention. Damir collected books as if his life depended on the endeavour, and Cassandra learned to recognise each volume just by its cover. The bright red leather piqued her curiosity and though she preferred to respect his privacy, the corner that peeked out from under the pillow called to her.

Careful not to damage the book, Cassandra carefully pulled it out, her fingers brushing over the cracks in the old leather. The title, engraved in gold letters, read "Poems." The simple yet enigmatic title urged her to open the book, the spine cracking.

As soon as she did, a yellow piece of parchment slipped out of the pages and onto the floor, and Cassandra hurried to pick it up, afraid she might ruin the book. A smile formed on her lips at the sight of Damir's neat handwriting, and the small but elegant letters bringing a pleasant warmth in her stomach.

Cassandra, the letter said, I know you will not rest while I'm gone. You're too stubborn for that. I know you too well. But instead of digging a hole in my bedroom's floor with your pacing around, I thought maybe you should read this book.

Please accept the poem on this page as an apology for leaving you behind.

With love,

Damir.

Cassandra chuckled, not surprised by Damir's gift. After all, both had a secret passion for romance and love poems. Curious to read the recommended poem, she slipped the note into her back pocket and opened the book again. A short poem awaited her on page 57, written in green letters:

At the end of all my travels,

At the bottom of all my torments,

At the turn of all the laughter

I saw you.

In my house, I saw you.

In my arms, I saw you.

In my dreams, I saw you.

I will never leave you anymore.

She rarely cried. A warrior had to stay strong, for their sake and for the sake of those they protected. But as Cassandra read the verses over and over, tears ran down her cheeks and stained the pages of the book. And with them, longing and sorrow poured from the heart of a mighty warrior.

#dadwc #dragon age #fanfiction #cassandra x cadash

10 notes · View notes

dr-spencer-reids-queen · 3 years

Text

Plain Sight: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, and angst

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

"Don't forget that I cannot see myself -- that my role is limited to being the one who looks in the mirror." - Jacques Rigaut

Being the youngest one on the team not only made you feel like you needed to work extra hard to prove you were worthy of your place on the team, but it made you feel like an outcast because everyone was so close and tight-knit. The only person you really knew was Gideon, but he was more closer to Hotch than anyone else since they were closer in age than the rest. The person closest to your age is Spencer which is why you feel like you connect more with him than anyone else.

It’s his birthday today, and everyone is celebrating at his desk with cake and trick candles. They seemed to be having a good time, and you didn’t want to join them and ruin their fun. It didn’t feel like you were part of this family just yet since you were fairly new with abilities they’ve never seen before. However, even if you weren’t celebrating with them, you still got Spencer a present. It’s special since you knew he would hold it dear to his heart. You were pretty proud of yourself for finding the exact item you wanted even though you were at the point of ripping your own hair out.

Hotch and Gideon were off to the side to watch the rest of the team celebrate, and you stood by them with your arms crossed shyly.

“Make a wish!” Elle grinned.

“Come on man! Blow, baby blow!” Derek teased when Spencer kept blowing at his candles despite them not going out.

“I thought you are full of hot air, Reid,” Elle joked.

“Come on, Reid.”

“They're trick candles, Spence, okay? They gonna come back on every time,” JJ caved in after seeing him try so hard to blow them out.

Derek grabbed the ends of Spencer’s big blue birthday hat and shoved it further down on his head with a huge smile.

“Oh, mommy to rescue you!”

“Mommy?” Spencer scoffed, shaking off his friend.

“Is it amazing he knows what he knows and he's only 24?” Hotch asked his friend with a shocked smile.

“Imagine what he’ll know by fifty.”

“I’m twenty-two,” you spoke up, causing both heads to turn to you.

“Why aren’t you over there with them?” Gideon asked.

“I don’t feel like I’m part of the family just yet. I mean, I’m the youngest, so I feel like they think I’m a kid or something. I don’t know. I’m weird,” you chuckled nervously.

“Hey, lil’ mama,” Derek called out for you when he noticed you off to the side. “Come on.”

“Yeah, come over here,” Spencer smiled.

Once he chimed in, the rest of the team wanted you to join them. Blushing, you hesitantly walked over to the group, and Derek wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“You’re part of this team now. You’ve proven yourself,” he grinned.

“Thanks, Derek,” you smiled right back.

“You blew wax on the cake, man,” Derek scoffed playfully, taking his arm away to help cut the cake.

Spencer got up to replace your spot next to Gideon since Hotch needed to take a call.

“Is this homemade or store bought?” you asked.

“I made it,” JJ smiled widely.

“Wow, this looks amazing and I bet it tastes amazing too,” you chuckled.

She put the first piece of cake on the plate, turned to Spencer, and called out to him.

“Hey Spence, first piece for the birthday boy,” she smiled.

Spencer looked from her to you, and you gave him a shy smile with a wave. He said something to Gideon before heading over, and he took the plate.

“Thank you.”

“Birthday boy,” you sang, taking a piece of cake that JJ handed you.

“When’s your birthday?”

“Not long after yours. Mine’s in February. I’ll be twenty-three. Sometimes I feel like I’m too young to be here.”

“I know that feeling,” he chuckled.

“Sorry, guys,” Hotch interrupted as he set the phone down with a sigh, “the party's over.”

The team knew what that meant, so they packed everything they could as fast as they could so they could discuss the case you knew was waiting for you in the briefing room. Each team member started for the stairs, but you grabbed Spencer’s arm to hold him back for a second.

“Sorry, I just, um… I know I haven’t known you for very long, but I got you something. A birthday present.”

“You did? You didn’t have to.”

“I know, but, um, you’ll have to wait until the end of the case to get it.”

“Why?”

“It gives you something to look forward to, yeah? Plus, we usually end cases at night, and I know you were born at night so why not make it memorable.”

“You remembered what time I was born?” he asked, shocked you took the time to do so.

“Reid, Y/N, let’s go,” Hotch announced from the conference room.

“Why wouldn’t I remember that?” you asked, brushing past him to rush to the conference room.

Spencer looked at you as you left, and he couldn’t help but give a hint of a smile at that piece of information. The files were already passed out, and you and Spencer took your seats so that everyone else could begin. There was no need to apologize since Hotch just jumped right into this one.

“We're going to San Diego.”

“Not for the surfing, huh?” Derek commented.

“They're calling him the Tommy killer. Six women raped and murdered in their homes in the last three weeks,” JJ shared.

“Six in three weeks? That's a short fuse,” you whistled.

“And getting shorter. The first two were eight days apart then the next four in two weeks.”

“Rapid escalation. Do you think he's regressing to a psychopathic frenzy?” Spencer asked.

“No, he's too controlled for that. See you on the plane,” Hotch answered, getting up to leave the room. However, before he could, Derek stopped him with a question.

“Why the Tommy killer?”

“You know the rock opera? This unsub glues the victims' eyes wide open.”

“He wants them to see him,” Spencer noted.

“And feel him,” you added.

“Brenda Samms was found yesterday by her children when they got home from school. She had been strangled with a thin ligature, possibly a wire. No weapon was left at the scene,” Hotch ran over the details of the case once everyone was on the plane.

Since it was one of the smaller jets, everyone was in close proximity of each other with you and Spencer seated next to each other, JJ, Gideon, and Elle in the middle, Hotch across from you and Spencer, and Derek all by his lonesome towards the front.

“The residue on the wrist and mouth indicate that duct tape was used and then removed. Also not found at the scene,” Spencer remarked. “Brought it with him, took it with him.”

“He also started leaving messages at the fourth scene,” Hotch explained, reading from one of the quotes left on the mirror at the latest victim’s house. “This was on the mirrors. ‘Fair lady, throw those costly robes aside. No longer may you glory in your pride. Take leave of all your carnal, vain delight’.”

“I’ve come to summon you away this night,” Spencer finished. “It's a ballad from the late 1600s. A dialogue betwixt death and a lady.”

“A 17th century ballad?” you thought.

“Essentially, a woman begging death to live.”

“What kind of person knows this ballad? Are we looking for a literature professor?” Elle wondered.

“Anyone with an internet connection, actually. You should see what comes up when you type the word ‘death’ into a search engine,” Spencer chuckled.

“Reid, no wonder you can't get a date,” Derek teased, but it wiped the smile off the young doctor’s face.

Leaning over the small space, you got close enough to his ear so that only he could hear you.

“Don’t listen to him, Spencer. You’re a catch,” you patted him on the shoulder before sliding back into your normal position.

“Reid, you stay on the messages. See if there's a deeper meaning,” Hotch ordered.

“It definitely looks like he ransacked the crime scene pretty well. A lot of damage, but nothing seems to be taken,” you observed.

“The eyes are the thing, the signature. The behavior that isn't necessary for the murder, but necessary for the emotional release. That's what he's there for,” Gideon stated.

“There used to be a widely held belief that the eyes record a snapshot of the last thing a person sees before they die.”

“Yeah, that's right. People used to write poems about talking to death,” Derek commented.

“Ballads,” Spencer corrected him.

“Whatever.”

“You think they'll ever run out of new things to do with their victims?” Elle asked.

“Well, finding new ways to hurt each other is what we're good at,” Gideon sighed.

wanna be tagged? add yourself to this document! if your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@averyhotchner @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel @fan-girl-97 @paulaern @inkstainedwritergirl @royal-avengers @estrela-rogers @abitchforjay @kwbaby24 @redsalv20 @joonie-centric

97 notes · View notes

judediangelo75 · 3 years

Text

He Hates Me!

Person A has a huge crush on Person B, but Person B is convinced that Person A hates them. Idea coming from @pairing-prompts

There’s no real time line here. I have a small burst of inspiration so I’m taking it with both hands.

Main Character friend for this story: Katriona Cassiopeia aka future Mrs. McNully @kc-needs-coffee

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

“Talbott, mate, you’re staring again...” The avian Animagus knew this. Nor did he really care.

“Tell me something I don’t know Egwu,” he mumbled, never taking his eyes off the figure sitting at the Hufflepuff table. Andre rolled his eyes.

“Talbott, I’m pretty sure she can feel you burning holes into her skin at this point. Stop it,” the style wizard chided. A small part of him whined, not wanting to take his eyes of the vision sitting just a few tables away from him.

But he relented and turned his gaze to his fellow Eagle.

“Happy,” he asked.

“Ecstatic. Talbott, why don’t you ask her out already? It’s been years,” Andre pressed. A small blush colored Talbott’s face as he stole a glance at the witch in question.

Judith Harris.

His longtime crush.

At first, he wanted nothing to do with her.

He’s seen her around before, but that was the first time he’s seen her up close. She was really pretty and Talbott wasn’t sure how to properly talk to her when she shyly came to him to ask for his help to become an Animagus. When he rejected her, it was a knee jerk reaction.

He never meant to hurt her feelings.

Whenever they were together, he started to feel things that he never felt before. Despite his coldness and aloof attitude, she still smiled at him.

His heart never failed to flutter at the sight of it. He wanted to see it more often. Directed at him.

He found himself opening up to her.

He told her about his parents.

He felt like he could trust her.

Things were going good. They were slowly starting to form a friendship.

Until he messed it up by avoiding her.

He was 15 when he realized his feelings for her. Unsure on what to do, he started pushing her away. He declined her attempts at eating lunch with him or even offers to go flying for a bit. Very rarely taking her offer to play Gobstones or go out for a Butterbeer.

He did study with her on occasion but never for long.

He found it hard not to get closer to her and indulge his desires. He usually abruptly leaves before he did something stupid.

Like hugging her close. Playing with her hair. Holding her hand. Nuzzling her neck. Kissing her soft lips.

Now, it’s gotten to the point she rarely went out her way to talk to him first. She became skittish around him, never lingering around him like she used to.

And he wanted her to.

Talbott bit the inside of his cheek as he narrowed his eyes at her.

Sweet Gods, he’ll do anything if he meant that he can get close to her heart.

“Talbott?” The young man in question blinked and turned back to his mate.

“You said something?” Andre stared at at Talbott completely unamused.

“I said quit staring at her and answer my question!” Talbott looked a little disgruntled before sighing.

“I’m not sure how. Whenever I get close to her, I can’t seem to find the right words. I feel like I’m pushing her away than bringing her closer,” he admitted, feeling his chest constrict a little.

Andre looked at him with sympathy.

It wasn’t easy to befriend Talbott but eventually, they’ve become good mates. Only time they had a real issue was when Talbott confronted him about Judith being his Celestial Ball date.

Andre just walked into the Ravenclaw Common Room after dropping Judith at her’s in the Hufflepuff basement. He felt like he was walking on air after spending the night dancing with the beautiful witch. The feeling quickly disappeared when he came face to face with an irritated Talbott.

“Talbott, what’s-”

“Out of all witches you could’ve gone with, you picked her?!” Andre immediately raised his hands in surrender at the angry hiss.

“Woah, easy there mate! You didn’t go to the ball so why do you care?” Talbott paused, a soft blush dusting over his cheekbones before he looked away.

“...” Andre furrowed his brows, thoughtful for a few moments before the lightbulb went off.

“Crikey, you like her!” Talbott immediately turned his gaze back on him, red eyes wide with alarm and annoyance.

“Announce it to the whole damn castle why don’t you?!”

There was no hard feelings between the two. Whilst Andre did like Judith, he knew that was just a simple crush.

An admiration for the Hufflepuff and nothing more.

Talbott however...

It’s clear that he got it bad.

The blatant staring.

The blush that colors his cheeks whenever her name was mentioned.

Andre even caught Talbott writing a love poem about her.

What Talbott felt was more than a crush. He was in love with her.

And Andre can’t stand to see his mate pining hopelessly after her.

What Talbott needed was a push in the right direction...

“Maybe I can help...” Talbott side eyed him. Normally he would be strongly against seeking help, but it’s not like he’s any closer to receiving Judith’s affection with what he’s doing now.

“I’m listening...”

—————————

Katriona gave her friend her signature pout as they walked to the Quidditch stadium to practice for a bit.

“Oh come on, Judith! You’d never know unless he talk to to him.” Judith ignored the flush on her face with eye roll.

“The day I decide to tell Talbott how I feel is the day I jump into the Black Lake,” the Hufflepuff witch huffed.

“Oh stop being dramatic. He likes you,” Katriona insisted. Judith stopped to give her an “You’re joking, right?” expression.

“Oh of course he likes me! How can I not tell by his glaring stares that threaten to light me on fire? Or by the fact he rejects my company? Or that he basically runs out early on our study sessions? Face it, KC, he hates me!” Katriona did her best to suppress a wince.

If it wasn’t for a certain Ravenclaw Seeker, she would’ve assumed the same thing.

“Maybe he’s just having a hard time expressing how he feels,” she offered to comfort her friend. Judith scoffed.

“Talbott told me himself. His life is too complicated to be anything but direct,” Judith sighed. Katriona resisted the urge to slap her forehead.

She never meant someone that almost had a comeback for comment until she met Judith. It was annoying just as it can be funny.

They reached the Changing Rooms and went to change in their practice robes.

Katriona just hoped that Talbott found the right locker...

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

Judith stared at the piece of paper that was stuffed into her locker with a small flush on her face.

“I haven't stopped thinking about you. It's like you put a spell on me."

“What the hell,” Judith mumbled as she walked out of the tent with the note still in hand.

“Whatcha got there?” Judith stiffen momentarily before relaxing once she realized it was KC.

“Just a note...” Judith tried to brush it off but Katriona was quick to snatch it and read it.

“OOOOO~ Looks like you have a secret admirer~!” Judith felt her blush worsen as she snatched the note back and stuffed it in her pocket.

“Oh stop it. It’s not that serious,” Judith hissed as she sped walked to the pitch. Katriona giggled as she ran to catch up to the embarrassed Hufflepuff.

“What if it’s Talbott,” she teased. Judith looked away, not willing to let her face betray her true feelings.

“That’ll be the day hell freezes over...”

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

Judith blinked as she found another sheet of paper sitting her desk in Transfiguration class. She quickly took her seat and read it.

“In a world of secrets and lies, I feel like you are my truth.”

One of her hands rose to cover a red cheek as she glanced around the room to figure out who could’ve possibly left the note.

No one seem to be paying her no mind. Not even Tal-

‘Oh crap, I spoke too soon...’ she thought. The aloof Ravenclaw, who originally was facing the front of the classroom, turned his gaze on her the moment she looked at him. Judith wouldn’t be surprised if she was blushing to the roots of her hair at this point...

“You okay, Judith?” Judith turned to find Andre sitting next to her. Judith can still feel those red eyes looking at her.

“Y-Yeah!” Real convincing...

“Sure... what’s up with the note,” Andre asked.

“Oh, this silly little thing? Nothing import- HEY!” Andre took the paper to read it. The style wizard spared her a smirk.

“Seems like you caught the eyes of a certain wizard, huh,” he teased. Judith let out a soft growl and snatched the note back.

“Nosey Ravenclaws,” she mumbled under her breath. Andre chuckled before asking,

“Have any idea who this secret admirer is?” Judith blushed and shook her head. The Ravenclaw Seeker rose a brow at her.

“Anybody you hoping it’ll be,” he asked instead. Judith let out a soft cough.

“Yes... but he hates me...” Judith completely missed the small surprise on her friend’s face.

And never did she noticed the shell shocked form of a certain Animagus.

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

Talbott sat in the library, doing his upmost not to fidget.

He know that he was terrible at communicating his feelings but he didn’t realize that Judith would misinterpret it for hatred.

He was determined to clear the air between the two.

He was gonna admit how he felt.

It was currently Saturday morning, nobody came into the library. And they normally sat pretty deep in the library, where Pince couldn’t bother them if one of them accidently spoke too loud.

He had a rose hidden in one of the sleeve of his robes.

A yellow rose with red tips.

“H-Hey Talbott...” He looked up to find Judith taking a seat next to him.

He graced her with a small smile.

“Hello, Judith,” he said softly. Judith blinked in surprise and felt heat rush to her cheeks.

‘What the actual hell? Did he just smile at me?’ Judith mentally shook her head and tried not to think about it too much.

“S-so, you ready to get some studying done,” she offered lamely, trying not to look the handsome wizard in his eyes.

Talbott wasn’t having it.

Gently, he pinched the girl’s chin between his thumb and index finger, raising her gaze to meet his own. Judith’s face was slightly red and her pretty gold eyes screamed her confusion and embarrassment.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something...” Judith bit her lip, completely unsure what this conversation has in store for her...

“W-what about?” Talbott studied her silently, his fingers brushing aside a loose curl from her face.

“Have you been receiving any notes recently,” he asked, never taking his eyes off of her. Judith brows furrowed her brows at this.

“Y-yes... h-how do you know y-you know about that?”

‘Now or never, Winger...’

“I never tried being a secret admirer before. I hope you like them,” he whispered as he produced the rose from his sleeve and placed it behind her right ear.

Judith stared at him silently.

A minute or two passed and Talbott felt his bravado crumbling with each passing second.

“Y-you... you like... but I thought you hated me!” Talbott winced a little at her shocked pitch in her voice. Thankfully Pince wasn’t in right now or else they would’ve been shelving books.

“I never hated you, little bird. I’ve had feelings for you for years now... I was just really terrible at showing that,” he said shyly. Judith felt her face flush a dark red.

“I’m not good at dating or anything. I never tried it before but... I’m willing to give it chance for you,” he offered, hopefully. Judith let out a soft chuckle and smiled at him.

“I would like that...”

#hphm #hphm mc #judith harris #hphm talbott #hphm talbott winger #hogwarts mystery talbott #talbott x jacob's sibling #talbott x mc #talbott winger #talbott winger x jacob's sibling #talbott winger x mc #otp prompts #fluff prompts #jacob's sibling #jacob's sister #hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts mystery

58 notes · View notes

jaskierswolf · 4 years

Text

The Bard of Kaer Morhen pt.1/4

Summary: In which Geralt is not the first witcher that Jaskier meets. He's completely enthralled when a witcher saves his life whilst he was studying at Oxenfurt and makes it his life's work to change the world's opinion of witchers. Meanwhile Geralt is intrigued by the amorous bard that Eskel has befriended and sets out to find out more.

On AO3

Jaskier was sixteen the first time he met a witcher.

He was drunk off his face and fast asleep on a stone bench in Oxenfurt when he was woken up by a hand squeezing around his neck and lifting him into air. He still had some growing to do but he wasn’t short by any means and yet his legs dangled limply beneath him as he clawed at the calloused fingers that were cutting off his air supply.

“Fuck!” He choked out, he knew that he shouldn’t have listened to Valdo. They had a big exam coming up and the idiot knew that he could never beat Jaskier without sabotaging him.

He was dumped back onto the floor rather abruptly, his knees screaming at him as they hit the damp cobbled street. He looked up at his assailant with wide eyes and gasped.

A witcher.

It just has to be.

The man was incredibly well built, eyes glimmering amber in the light of the moon and a jagged scar etched into the pale skin of his face. On the man’s back were two swords, thankfully sheathed, although the witcher clearly could kill a man with just his bare hands should the mood hit him.

Jaskier should have been scared. He should have been fucking terrified.

In truth, he found the whole affair rather titillating.

He’d always been a bit weak in the knees for partners who could throw him about a bit and this glorious specimen of a man could certainly do that.

Jaskier gazed up at the witcher through his eye lashes and smiled his most seductive smile.

“Why, witcher, if you wanted me on my knees you could have just asked.” He purred in a low voice. He knew the effect was probably ruined by the fact he almost certainly looked like a mess following his night on the streets but Jaskier was a flirt by nature, he wouldn’t pass up an opportunity like this when it was easily presented.

The witcher, unfortunately, only laughed at him and pulled him to his feet. His grip was firm and strong on Jaskier’s arms. Jaskier pouted at the witcher’s laughter but wasn’t deterred.

Rather than letting himself be steadied as he was pulled to his feet, he fell towards the witcher’s chest. “My my.” He breathed as he felt the solid muscle under his fingers, hidden beneath layers of armour but still obvious beneath his touch. “Aren’t you strong, like a…” He stammered as words failed him. “sexy ox?”

The witcher snorted. “A sexy ox? Oxenfurt has really gone downhill since my last visit if that’s the shit they teach you these days, either that or you’re drunker than you smell.”

“Yeah. Well.” Jaskier mumbled.

“Get home, bard. It’s not safe on the streets stinking of booze.” The witcher artfully extracted himself from Jaskier’s arms.

“Care to escort me?” Jaskier winked.

The witcher rolled his eyes. “Persistent aren’t you?”

“For a handsome man such as yourself. Always.” Jaskier grinned.

The witcher shook his head. “I’ll take you home, bard, but I’m not bedding you. What are you, twelve?” He smirked.

Jaskier gaped and stammered back. “I am sixteen!”

“You’re a child.” The witcher pulled him along. “Where do you live?”

“At the university.” Jaskier grumbled. “I’m a student.” He paused. “How did you know I’m a bard?”

The witcher grinned. “You stink of resin and your fingers are covered in ink stains.”

Jaskier gazed in awe at his new friend. “That’s incredible!”

The witcher scoffed and punched Jaskier lightly in the arm. “You’re not bad, for a human. Come along, bard.”

The witcher, named Eskel as Jaskier eventually found out as he tried to lead the man the longest way back to his room at the university as possible, had been hired by one of his professors to kill a monster that was picking off drunk students at night. That was why Jaskier had been so rudely awoken from his drunken nap. Eskel had been trying to save him. A small part of Jaskier’s brain wondered whether the witcher had been intending to use him as bait for the monster but he seemed to genuinely care that Jaskier got back safely.

He also seemed surprised that Jaskier was being kind to him, that he was flirting so brazenly. Apparently not many people found Eskel to their liking which was honestly a crime. His eyes were like burning suns, his smile was gentle and warm like a hearth on a cold winter’s day, and he had a sharp wit that rivalled Jaskier’s.

All in all Jaskier was rather smitten but Eskel continued to reject his flirtations, such a damned shame. The witcher did, however, make up for it by telling him an incredible tale of one of his hunts, a fight against a succubus that turned into a long night of passionate love making.

Jaskier was hooked and itching for a quill so he could capture the tale in a ballad or epic poem, anything that would put Valdo’s work to shame.

Jaskier was devastated when they eventually came to a stop in front of his bedroom door.

He sighed. “Last chance, witcher?” He gave Eskel one last wink.

The man chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint, bard.”

Jaskier sighed dramatically. “You break my heart, dear witcher. Tell you what come to my graduation at the end of the semester and heal my broken heart with more tales of your witchering. I have a feeling there are many more ballads in you yet! I’ll even give you a cut of the profits!”

Eskel considered it for a moment and then nodded. “Throw in a bath and a hot meal and you’ve got yourself a deal bard.”

Jaskier smirked. “What about a bed for the night?”

The witcher cuffed him over the back of the head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I’d like to think of it more as charmingly irresistible.” Jaskier purred jestingly at this point he wasn’t seriously flirting with the witcher. He knew a lost cause when he saw one but it was fun to flirt and Eskel humoured him.

“Incorrigible.” Eskel insisted firmly. “Sleep well, bard.”

And with that, Jaskier’s first witcher left his life for the first time.

__________

Geralt finally felt his muscles relax as he knocked on the doors of Kaer Morhen. The cold was biting against the exposed skin of his cheeks even though his cloak was pulled tightly around his neck. Roach whinnied and stamped on the ground impatiently, butting him on the shoulder. He murmured soothing words under his breath as he stroked her mane. Until the great doors opened.

He was home.

At last.

The last few months had been bizarre. Geralt was used to the hatred of humanity. He was used the suspicious glares and the never-ending litany of insults that the humans threw his way. Every witcher that lasted long enough to go into a town was used to that. It had only gotten worse after Blaviken but he had only himself to blame. He should have known better than he let himself be backed into a corner like that in a place so crawling with humans. He’d never stood a chance. They would never have listened or understood the truth. It was his word against Stregobor’s

The bastard.

What Geralt wasn’t used to was the songs and poems that had begun to crop up around the Oxenfurt and slowly spreading into the wider area.

They told tales of monster hunts, of witchers acting like knights and heroes. It had certainly made it easier to get coin after a hunt in those areas but he just didn’t understand where it was coming from. He was hoping that one of his brothers would be able to illuminate the situation.

It turned out he wasn’t the only witcher that was confused by the sudden change in fortune. Lambert greeted him with a hug and immediately asked him what trouble he’d gotten himself into this time that had inspired such songs.

“If you’re asking whether I’ve fucked a succubus, Lambert, then you should know I don’t kiss and tell.” Geralt smirked. “At least not sober.”

“Well it wasn’t me!” Lambert defended himself.

All became clear when they shuffled into the dining hall to eat and began to catch each other up with their years on the path.

Eskel grinned as he stuffed his face with a bread roll that was the size of his head. “I got myself a bard!” He announced, spitting crumbs all over the table. “A human from Oxenfurt, picked him off the streets, drunk off his face when I was hunting in the town.”

Lambert choked on his ale. “You got a what now?”

“A bard.” Eskel thumped Lambert hard on his back.

“So it’s your fault.” Geralt noted. “With the songs and poems.”

Eskel nodded.

“You fucked a succubus?” Lambert cried earning a disapproving stare from Vesemir.

Eskel rolled his eyes. “Of course that’s what you got from this.”

“It’s made payment easier.” Geralt noted, kicking Lambert under the table and ignoring the redhead’s curses. “The songs. He’s not scared of us.”

Eskel grinned. “That’s the best part. It’s like he’s immune to fear when it comes to witchers. He even wanted to join me on an adventure.”

Vesemir scoffed. “A human bard on a witcher hunt. That’s a foolish idea, wolf”

“That’s why I left him behind but it wasn’t easy. Bloody fool is worse than ivy. He clings onto you and doesn’t let go. An outrageous flirt too.”

Geralt raised his eyebrows at Eskel. A human who openly flirted with a witcher was either a whore trying to trick the man into bed and then demand payment, or someone who bored and wanted to try something exotic.

Neither options were particularly ideal but that was life.

“I think he might be cursed.” Eskel suggested. “I’ve never known any human, let alone a man, to try so hard to seduce a witcher, and it was genuine! I could smell it on him.”

The witchers all shared an incredulous look. Lambert patted Eskel sympathetically on the back. “You sure you weren’t on Fissttech. First the succubus, second….” Lambert trailed off.

Eskel launched across the table and soon they were wrestling on the floor. After a year apart tensions were always high before they settled back into their routine for winter. Scraps like this were unavoidable much to Vesemir’s dismay. He barked at them to take it outside or save it for the training ground.

Geralt was too lost in thought to watch the fight between his brothers.

A human bard that had taken it upon himself to change the way the world viewed mutants like him. A human that wasn’t afraid of them. A human that genuinely wanted them around. He scoffed. It was impossible.

Wasn’t it?

But what if it wasn’t?

Geralt was content with his family in Kaer Morhen. During the winter months they could all relax and enjoy the comfort of being home. They didn’t have to watch their backs every second of the day and they could all indulge in the physical comfort they craved during the summer months.

The witcher mutations were fickle. Whilst it was true that it dampened most witchers’ emotions, unless the witcher was foolish enough to undergo further mutations, they heightened other instincts. This varied depending on which witcher school you attended. The bears were solitary witchers. They were brutal and efficient and raw power but they struggled to find humans that wouldn’t flee in terror. The griffin’s style was more acrobatic. They danced and flew through the air. They parried and dodged and pirouetted in aerial attacks that were lethal and precise but the mutations had some of the worst success rates and even those who survived were often damaged and didn’t heal as well as they other schools. The cats were similarly light on their feet. They attacked from the shadows. They were the assassins and the school that gave witchers a bad name.

The wolves didn’t like the cats very much.

Unless your name was Lambert, but then he’d always liked to find new ways to piss of Vesemir and fucking the enemy was apparently his new venture.

The wolves, Geralt’s school, were a family. In the beginning, before the siege and before humans had turned on the ones that were meant to protect them, the wolf witchers had travelled in packs. They were skilled and ferocious on their own, but they were unstoppable together. These days it just wasn’t practical and they were caught in crippling loneliness for the majority of the year. Geralt felt it more keenly than his brothers, the second dose of mutations fucking with his emotions more than most.

During winter the wolves would hug each whenever they ran into each other during the day, they would wrestle on the ground whenever the mood hit them and they could often be found in a pile by the fire after a long day of training and chores. Casual affection during winter was the key to survival during the rest of the year.

No human would every allow a witcher close enough not unless they were being paid and Geralt simply could not afford regularly visits to a brothel.

But if there was really a human who wasn’t scared of witchers, that liked them even…

Geralt growled and stalked up to his room.

He wasn’t going to get his hopes up. Even if the bard did like most witchers, he would still hate the Butcher of Blaviken.

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #eskel #witcher eskel #geralt/jaskier #the bard of kaer morhen #wolfie's witcher writing #I'll post next chapter tomorrow or check out ao3 for the rest

116 notes · View notes

cinnaminsvga · 4 years

Text

intermission • v | moonshine

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. jihope + seokjin) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: homoerotic tension (?), delulu shippers, seokjin is a nosy motherfucker (as per usual) → words: 7.3K → a/n: it’s been,, ten million years,, sorry to my fox rain readers but let’s just say my brain has been a smoothie for a while but now!! it is still a smoothie but perhaps a little chunkier ;w; anyway, we love jihope in this household,, and seokjin,, is seokjin,, we love him too

— • masterlist | prev | intermission v | next • —

In a small studio apartment somewhere close to your university campus, notoriously handsome and oh-so-talented Kim Seokjin wakes up in cold sweat, his heart beating a mile a second and a chill running down his spine. “There’s been a disturbance in the force,” he mutters lowly to himself, a drop of sweat making its way down his razor-sharp jaw.

He had been in the midst of a wondrous dream wherein he, the universe’s protagonist, was being showered with praise and adoration after the sensational debut of his autobiographical documentary. Men and women alike were at his feet, peppering his heaven-sent toesies with the worship that he deserves. Everyone was there, even you had been there, his self-declared rival! But just as you were about to reach the head of the line, lips puckered and ready to go, Seokjin was ripped away from his kissies without warning.

You, of course, were not the reason for his mind-bending, earth-shattering, cock-jizzing premature arousal from his slumber. No –– Kim Seokjin does not wake up prematurely, for every moment of his life is a beacon of perfection. Only events of the most catastrophic order were able to wake him up from his slumber, so whatever cosmic force caused him to awaken must’ve been no joke. He had to take this seriously, as it might mean thousands of lives were at stake.

Seokjin jumps to his feet with a flourish, his entire body oozing grace, so much so that it would make any grown ballerina cry. He rushes to unplug his phone from its charger, unlocking it and immediately going to search through his social media accounts. As he scans through the tweets and posts, his well-trained eye sifts through the dreary and the mundane, his only intent to find whatever it is that might forewarn him of a natural disaster.

His follower count is stable. His engagement graphs show that his posts are at an all-time high. To any other novice, this might have been a sign that his gut feeling had been nothing but a fluke. Surely, nothing is wrong in the universe? But no, Seokjin is not some mere amateur! He wouldn’t be as successful at being a prick celebrity social media influencer if he didn’t have the reflexes that he did. He has to keep searching and pick out any little thing that might indicate that something was amiss.

It takes a hot minute (three hours to be exact) for Seokjin to find it, but he does. And oh, his intuition had been right: this was a level nine catastrophe. To give you an understanding of what that might mean, then here’s some context to scale: a level eight catastrophe would be if you ever found that he might have had a crush on you when you first met each other; a level ten catastrophe would be if Kim Seokjin lost all his followers overnight and was forced to relinquish his title as an Instagram baddie. So yes, level nine was dire, if not almost life-threatening.

The evidence?

...

To the untrained eye, it might look like nothing. But to a delulu devoted JiHope stan? This was a living nightmare.

Oh god, the signs are all there! The context, the timestamps, the emojis… They all made sense in Seokjin’s complicated maze of a mind. Like a seasoned detective, he’s able to connect all the dots to make a valid hypothesis that yes, JiHope is in danger of breaking up*.

[Addendum: Please note that JiHope has never dated before. Kim Seokjin is a lunatic and the constraints of reality do not apply to those of his kind. Please read the rest of this report with that in mind. Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

“FUCK!” he exclaims (with feeling), dropping to his knees as he cries (with feeling). The signs are all there: something is causing a rift between his two favorite homos* from staying together and he, as the chosen one, must do something to save them before it’s too late.

[Addendum: Well, technically he’s right, but Jimin is bisexual at the very least, but that’s a matter of semantics… But that’s pretty much as “factual” as Kim Seokjin is ever going to get, so let’s take that as a blessing. Noted by: Min Yoongi (again).]

He can’t jump headfirst into this madness, however. He needs a plan; not only did it need to be foolproof, but it also had to be undeniably fabulous and downright heinous. Seokjin never did see himself as the morally right hero from those dreary Marvel comic books despite the allure of their skintight spandex and ostentatious capes. No–– Seokjin is of a higher calling, one where the hero needs to pull his dirtiest tricks in order to save the day.

Which is why Seokjin finds no error in his ways when he decides to stalk Jimin and Hoseok throughout their day, trying to pinpoint which clogs in his JiHope machine need oiling and lubing.

Nothing is ever too much for Kim Seokjin. In fact, he’ll go out of his way to follow them to their homes if he has to, but luckily (for Jimin and Hoseok), he doesn’t need to go that far. In fact, it’s a downright fucking miracle that his intuition from this morning had been correct, made apparent by hour ten (10) of his stalking misadventures:

It’s nearing five in the afternoon. Kim Seokjin’s patience and determination has been put to the test before, but never like this. He could never ever imagine himself setting foot in this damned place, what with its overflowing abundance of knowledge, nerds, and public displays of integrity. He nearly gagged the moment he took one step in the library, and not even the thought of seeing Jimin and Hoseok together was enough to settle the bile climbing up his throat.

To make matters worse, you were there too. Not that Seokjin particularly cares (he does) that you are, but there is something… annoying about seeing you just sitting there, teaching Hoseok like it was normal*.

[Addendum: It is fucking normal. As per usual, Kim Seokjin is a dipshit who has never worked a day in his life and does not understand the notion of helping others study for their courses. To this day, I can’t understand how he’s passing his classes, though I’m kind of afraid of finding out how. Some things are better left… unsolved. Noted by: Min “I’m-not-paid-enough-for-this” Yoongi.]

He had been busy following Jimin around before this, but he was forced to change targets when one of his adoring fans had distracted him while asking for an autograph, causing him to lose track of Jimin entirely. It was of little consequence, however, given that he knows that Jimin was also going to be tutored by you later on anyway, so he just hopes that Jimin doesn’t do something stupid while he’s out of sight for the time being.

Normally, he’d try to find out where Jimin was going next, but the hardest part about following Jimin is that he didn’t have a fixed schedule like Hoseok did. Even Seokjin didn’t quite understand what Jimin was majoring in, and he prides himself in knowing every single detail of both their lives. But for now, it didn’t matter; at least Seokjin was left with one schedule to follow, so it made sense to just let Jimin be and go to wherever Hoseok was probably at the moment.

When Seokjin had finally located him walking out of his last class, Hoseok hadn’t appeared all that different from his usual demeanor. A bit dazed maybe, but that could be brushed off due to the essay he had to cram for that morning (a fact that Seokjin had learned through various connections). He walks lazily to the nearby library where he would be meeting you, and with a heavy heart, Seokjin follows suit.

You were already there when the two of them arrive. Seokjin is lucky when your eyes train automatically on Hoseok, ignoring him completely. In any other scenario, Seokjin would’ve felt incredibly scorned by this. He would’ve immediately stomped over to where you sat, making sure to announce his presence to you and everyone else within a fifty-foot radius. But today was not an ordinary day, so Seokjin is forced to hold his tongue and save his bitchin’ for another day. And so, he quietly slinks away to a seat a few tables away, his contemptuous aura causing all the previously seated students to vacate the table in a rush.

Much to his chagrin, it feels like Seokjin has just wasted an hour as he watches the two of you being productive (Seokjin lets out a shudder), not even bothering to film your tutoring session due to how little information he was getting. The only point of interest is how pissed off you seem, though it’s not like Seokjin has ever witnessed you in any other state anyway. He watches as Hoseok’s sunny disposition slowly chips away at your foul mood, and to his awe and surprise, sees you crack a smile just as the hour was about to pass.

It isn’t like that was important to Seokjin, though. So what if he noticed that you were happier with Hoseok around? It’s not every day that Seokjin catches you in a good mood (and he reluctantly admits that it’s always nice to see you smiling, even if his presence unfailingly causes a deep-set frown to appear on your lips.)

That was of little importance, he told himself.

Seokjin had hoped that when Hoseok’s tutoring session would end that he might manage to see him and Jimin cross paths. Unfortunately, it seems like Hoseok has other plans as he quickly shuffles his things into his bag, looking apologetic as he waves a hasty goodbye to you. You and Seokjin gaze at the empty spot he has left in his wake, both of you knowing even without Hoseok’s admittance that this rift between him and Jimin was far deeper than either of you had imagined.

Seeing Hoseok so skittish has a terrible effect on one’s psyche, and Seokjin feels despair growing in the pit of his stomach at what might be an unsalvageable situation for the JiHope community.

“Nonsense!” his inner-voice (that suspiciously sounds like you) chastises, whacking him with a proverbial rolled-up newspaper. “There is no such thing as unsalvageable when it comes to the magnificent Kim Seokjin!”

“You’re right,” Seokjin says (out loud), slamming his fists on the table. The jittery librarian’s assistant by the front desk jumps up in surprise, but Seokjin pays him no mind.

Seokjin is so immersed by his own internal monologue that he doesn’t notice the aforementioned librarian’s assistant leave his station with a small handwritten note clutched tightly in his hand. Seokjin also doesn’t notice when he speaks to you with pink dusting the apples of his cheeks before returning to his desk, sans note*.

[Addendum: I’M SO MAD WHY DOESN’T ANYONE NOTICE FUCKING JUNGKOOK??? NEXT TIME I SEE SEOKJIN IT’S ON FUCKING SIGHT HOW DARE HE NOT SEE MY LIL BABY WALK TO HIS ***** AND FULFIL ALL MY HOPES AND DREAMS? I’M GONNA KILL YOU KIM SEOKJIN! (Angrily) Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

It doesn’t take long for Jimin to arrive, and he’s kind of hard to miss with how loud his entrance is. Seokjin nods in approval as the younger enters the drab library with an astounding flourish, complete with his hair gently flowing in the (nonexistent) wind and hips swaying to the (nonexistent) beat.

None of this out of the ordinary, especially with how unfazed the general library populace was to Jimin’s commotion. What is a little different, however, is the beaming, oversaturated, downright diabetic smile on his face, complete with his signature eyes creased into their cute little crescents.

It isn’t that Jimin wasn’t a naturally sunny person; on the contrary, his kind and gregarious personality is what drew Seokjin into shipping him with Hoseok in the first place. But there was something about this level of overflowing giddiness that is a bit… disconcerting, for lack of a better word.

Even you appeared to be dumbstruck by Jimin’s odd mood. You squint curiously at Jimin, taking his worksheets from his hands without another word. Seokjin covertly takes out his phone to pretend to take a selfie, but proceeds to tape the whole tutoring session for him to review later that night. He strains his ears to try and catch the bits and pieces of your conversation with Jimin, but he’s left high and dry when he realizes that you were the type who actually liked to whisper at the library, further foiling his plans.

“Dammit,” he mutters to himself, hastily shoving his “textbooks” into his sling bag as he moves to a table slightly closer to the two of you. He doesn’t bother unpacking them again on the table, foregoing the pretense that he was actually there to “study” when in fact he had goals much loftier than those of an ordinary university student.

He carefully adjusts his camera, trying his best to stay out of your and Jimin’s view. He cranes his head forward as far as he can, face crumpling (handsomely) from the strain.

Seokjin had missed it when he was busy relocating to his better position, but it seems like you had finally gotten fed up with Jimin’s strange behavior. He only sees Jimin look shocked by your irritability, but that quickly fades away as his previously dopey smile comes back at full force. Knowing you, your eye is probably twitching right now, but Seokjin attributes that to the stick permanently stuck up your ass.

“It’s, umm…” Jimin looks extremely bashful all of a sudden, and Seokjin makes sure to zoom in on his face for better analysis later. There’s a slight pause, and both you and Seokjin wait for Jimin to continue. “Do you know… uh…” He takes a deep breath, blushing all the while. “Y/N, you know Lee Sera, right?”

Since you’re faced away from Seokjin, he doesn’t get to see what type of reaction you might be sporting on your face. He has a guess though, and that’s mostly because he already knows what Lee Sera means to you.

Seokjin only just saw the forum post this morning when he was going through his social media. Since he was one of the only people who actually knew you were the author, he’d known from the get-go that Lee Sera had probably written that post revealing herself as the author as a way to get easy clout. Nothing annoyed Seokjin more than people getting more famous than him, so he was honestly a strongly-worded call-out post away from revealing the truth to the masses, but was eventually stopped by the thought of your desperate face from days ago.

As much as Seokjin was a slut for drama, even he isn’t that mean. He can be mean in other ways, such as by putting an ugly filter on your face as he continues to videotape you without your consent. Case in point:

“What?” you say, almost shouting. Unbeknownst to you, there is a pooping baby currently superimposed on your forehead. The film looks shaky at best, but that’s all because of how hard Seokjin is shaking from trying not to laugh.

“Do you know if she likes anyone?” he replies, still dreamy. The AR pooping baby is also on his head, but Jimin manages to pull the look off.

Seokjin waits for your explosion to come, but he underestimates your self-control because he completely misses the next few words you say from how calmly and quietly you speak, though he only imagines that you must be on the way to a mental breakdown soon enough.

The calm before the storm, Seokjin thinks giddily to himself. He could always post your mental breakdown on Youtube for a couple thousand views. C’mon… let’s go viral, baby!

Jimin watches you eagerly from the sides and waits for your response, but you’re too busy short-circuiting right in front of him to give one. Seokjin almost feels sorry for you, but he’s too busy trying not to burst into laughter as it is. God, you’re such a fucking sad mess.

Lucky for you, your timer goes off to signal the end of your tutoring session, and Seokjin notices the way your shoulders slacken with relief. And Jimin seems to have forgotten all about his query because he’s started to pack his things already, humming softly to himself. Once he finishes, he pulls out his phone to read something on his screen, tapping away through his social media as he waits for you to say goodbye.

You’re too busy packing away your own things that you don’t notice when Jimin’s eyes begin to bug out, his mouth dropping and his nostrils flaring with the intensity of his breathing. When he scrolls a little bit further down, he lets out a sharp gasp, catching you and Seokjin off guard.

Jimin has just seen the post, didn’t he? Either that, or he saw porn on his timeline, though Seokjin doesn’t think that would excite Jimin as much as the former would. You seem to guess the same, judging by how stiff you become at his exclamation.

“Y/N! Y/N, she–– she’s––!”

Your fight or flight instincts activate, and Seokjin has to scramble after you as you powerwalk out of the library, desperate to get away from Jimin and his revelation. Unfortunately, you’re not entirely in your best shape right now, so it would be an absolute miracle if you were ever to outpace Park “abs of steel” Jimin. Jimin continues to titter beside you, unaware of the waves of tension running rivers down your form.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she? And she’s so humble to have kept quiet about the whole thing, too. Wah, she’s so…” Seokjin hears Jimin say, and he has to stop himself from snorting at how blatantly love blind Jimin seems to be. Seokjin isn’t anywhere near as good as you when it comes to writing (though he hates to admit it), but even he knows that Lee Sera isn’t as capable as you are. Jimin must really be a sucker for bitches in tight skirts and basic nude pumps because honestly… Why have the knock-off when you can have real Gucci?*

[Addendum: Hey it’s me again… Just wanted to say… Why is Seokjin lowkey kinda making me wanna ship him with Y/N… This is for real weird… Stop this… I’m scared… Noted by: Confused Min Yoongi.]

“I never really paid it much attention, but now that I’m rereading the poem… she’s so talented.” Jimin continues to gush, and you look half a second away from painting the walls with your vomit. Your head is bowed, so you don’t notice when the library doors open and a student in a loose white shirt and flowy black pants enters, looking as far removed from the environment as Seokjin did. “It’s no wonder it blew up so much, she’s such a gifted––”

“Who’s such a gifted what?” the new intruder asks. Kim Taehyung stops right in front of you in all his indie glory, and the sudden apparition of another of one of your “muses” must have frayed your unraveling mind even further. Seokjin is already turning his camera to your face with a dramatic pan left zoom, the pooping baby filter still on your head. It slips a turd onto your grimacing face.

Jimin, ever the sweet himbo, has already forgotten about you and instead rushes over to Taehyung with the news. “Tae! The author of that poem you’re always raging about––”

Seokjin watches with interest as Taehyung elbows Jimin strongly in the gut, a strong blush coating his cheeks.

Jimin continues, undeterred. “The author of the poem, it’s Lee Sera! I know I always ignored you when you talked about it, but now…” Seokjin has already stopped listening in favor of watching the way Taehyung’s expression slowly morphs from bashful embarrassment to careful indifference. His eyebrows raise even further when Taehyung’s gaze sweeps towards you, unwavering despite the animated prattlings of his best friend beside him.

Inch-resting… Inch-resting indeed…

Seokjin leaves then, not wanting to be caught by any of you as he slinks away unseen. He stops his recording, an array of thoughts swimming through his head as he tries to piece together the puzzle in front of him. He’ll need to follow you, Jimin, and Hoseok again, and he knows in the pit of his stomach that the tsunami is fast approaching.

x x x x x

And so, Seokjin follows the three of you around like a parasite, waiting for any of you to drop the ball on him. It’s the next Monday now, and he’s still not any closer to witnessing the “climax” of his JiHope prophecy. While he is aware that Lee Sera is undoubtedly going to be the catalyst for breaking his ult ship, he can’t exactly fix the problem unless something wrong happens first.

Of course, he could always slip a laxative into Sera’s disgusting tummy tea when she isn’t looking, but Seokjin finished using all of them up when he slipped them into your breakfast a few weeks ago. Plus, drinking tummy tea is punishment enough, so he’ll hold his punches for now.

Seokjin has a strong feeling that today is going to be the day where something finally shifts. He doesn’t know why he thinks this, though he likes to tell himself it’s a God-given gift of JiHope senses, but he digresses.

He’s starting to lose hope in his trusty JiHope senses, however, when he watches another fruitless tutoring session between you and Hoseok. Man, if not for the fact that Seokjin was a delulu JiHope shipper, he’d totally be the type to shove Hoseok down the toilet in middle school. That dude… he’s too smart and studious for him, and Seokjin is always threatened by anyone who can get a score above 4 in an exam.

Hoseok leaves in a rush as per usual, and Seokjin has since figured out that it wasn’t because the English major was keen on rushing back home to jack off. Hoseok’s eyes search around frantically as he exits the library, like he’s afraid of running into a certain someone. It causes Seokjin’s grip on his pencil prop to tighten, so much so that he snaps it in half when he sees it happen for the third session in a row.

The situation in the JiHope fandom is much worse than he can ever imagine, and Seokjin resolves himself to fix it no matter what. He’ll even ask you for help, if worst comes to worst.

Hoseok practically leaves a dust trail in his wake, hurriedly vacating the premises just as you say goodbye. Just as Hoseok leaves, Jimin enters the scene with his signature bubbly laughter echoing through the rows of shelves. Seokjin turns his head towards the sound, but he can feel something is amiss already. There’s… someone with him.

I can smell the cheap drug store perfume all the way from here. Seokjin sneers to himself, crinkling his nose as the sound of another pair of footfalls confirms his suspicions right away. When he turns to look at you, the look of utter rage and disbelief on your face is almost enough to make him forget about the horrendous stench of Lee Sera.

Sera tears herself away from Jimin when she catches sight of you, and Seokjin’s heart clenches when he sees the utter look of confusion replacing the grin on Jimin’s face. She was just draped over Jimin’s arm a few seconds ago, but the complete 180 definitely must have bewildered the poor lovesick fool.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Lee Sera craved the attention she was being given after coming out as the “author” of the poem, though Seokjin finds her neediness distasteful. As someone who loved being in the limelight, Seokjin didn’t go around taking other people’s credit for his success! Clearly, he was the better one (as he always is in any situation).

Anyway, point stands: you look like you’re about to shit yourself from anger. Seokjin isn’t really listening to the conversation between the two of you, instead focusing on both of your body languages. Sera is playing the role of the remorseful peasant, begging for reconciliation from you, the ireful landlady who refuses to watch another second of her quivering lip.

It’s all very dramatic. Even though Seokjin is mostly recording the fight for analysis purposes, he’s probably going to keep the video for archival purposes as well. The rage, the hurt, the chaos… Seokjin could turn this entire narrative into its own wildly popular musical! He would obviously play himself as the omnipotent, all-seeing jack-of-all-trades, and you’d probably be played by some hag he can cast from the street. Seokjin can almost feel the Tony award jutting up his ass.

Slap! Seokjin jerks to attention and his dreams of his musical fade as he watches, slack-jawed, at the aftermath of your rage. The sound reverberates so loudly that Seokjin feels his ears ringing. In his surprise, he instinctively turns off his camera, ready to go and join stop the fight. Before he can take a step forward, however, a whirlwind shoves past him in a blur, but Seokjin already knows from his lean form that Hoseok had come to intervene. Seokjin hadn’t even noticed the lilac-haired boy was still around the library, but it doesn’t matter now that he’s here to save the day like the bishounen protagonist that he is.

Hoseok holds you back, but it does nothing to quell your anger. “How could you say that to him!” you cry, arms struggling to free themselves from Hoseok to throttle Sera. You look a bit like a rabid animal, teeth bared as you squirm in Hoseok’s hold.

To the side, Jimin chokes up in silence. He’s begun to regain his senses, limbs shifting as he prepares to escape. Seokjin doesn’t miss the shine in his eyes, tears forming and threatening to fall. He turns on his feel, high-tailing out of there without another word.

Hoseok says something into your ear and you nod mindlessly in response. He lets you go, watches as you chase after Jimin. His jaw is set, fists clenched by his sides, but he doesn’t make a move to follow. He takes one last look at Sera’s bamboozled expression, tuts angrily to himself, and walks away in the opposite direction.

Seokjin is speechless.

What the fuck was that? Seokjin isn’t a stranger to the current happenings of your sad love heptagon, or whatever the fuck you want to call it. It probably could have been solved much sooner if you just confessed to him already, but he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy the drama*.

[Addendum: She literally does not have a crush on Seokjin. If she did, I’d block her immediately. I didn’t raise Y/N for her to fall in love with this psychopath. PLEASE. Signed: Min Yoongi.]

No, Seokjin isn’t confused about the whole Sera thing. What he’s more confused about is why Hoseok isn’t going to comfort his boyfriend lover homie like he’s supposed to! Something must have caused a rift in their friendship, and Seokjin is determined to find out and fix this mess once and for all! There’s no need to fear for Seokjin is here!*

[Addendum: “Hallelujah!” said no one ever. I hate this dude. Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

x x x x x

After spending an inexcusable amount of time planning and plotting later that night, Seokjin comes to campus early the next day to put his incredibly profound plan into motion. Lucky for Seokjin, he’s equipped with a myriad of skills that go beyond that of acting and being a nuisance, so it comes as no surprise that he’s quite handy with Photoshop. He uses his Amazing Incredible Fantastic Photoshop skillz to their limits to print out a dozen or so fake posters for a new dance exhibition on Saturday.

Why? Because Seokjin is a genius of course! He knows for certain that Jimin will want to attend the exhibition to cheer himself up after the whole Sera debacle. He always did like watching the university’s dance club from the windows, always wistfully looking but never joining even though he COULD dance if he WANTED to but of course he wouldn’t! Because his beloved Hoseokie-hyung wouldn’t be there to be his partner and it’s all very sad and romantic, yadayadayada… Long story short, Seokjin is whipped for this BL trope and he will die on this hill if he has to!

However, Hoseok is going to be a bit harder to bait... He’d never be caught dead attending a dance exhibition, so Seokjin has to scavenge the last remaining brain cells he has to think of an event that Hoseok would want to go to. He settles on making a fake poster for a book signing by Pi Ness Hughman that is “mandatory” for all English Literature majors to attend. He even goes the whole way and makes a spoof e-mail to send to Hoseok, and no, Seokjin will not be explaining how he did that because he might be bordering on being a criminal, but that doesn’t mean he wants other people to be criminals too. That’s just how great of a person he is!

And what does any of this have to do with anything? Well… He’s going to lock them together inside a classroom and hope that they solve their differences there. Is Seokjin certain that his plan is going to work? Not at all. Is it more likely to use this as an excuse to get inspiration for his upcoming 100K slow burn enemies to lover fic that he’s been planning on starting? Absolutely.

Point of the matter is that Team Kim Seokjin never loses, and he’ll still end up on top even if everything goes to shit, and that is honestly all that matters.

Seokjin proceeds with his plan, going as smoothly as he can. He places the posters around areas that he is sure the duo would pass by. He also makes sure to accidentally “misplace” other posters and advertisements on the cork board that might serve as distractions, but you didn’t hear that from him. He watches stealthily from the shadows, carefully keeping track of their movements to make sure that they see the posters and that everything goes according to keikaku*.

[Addendum: Hey, it’s Yoongi again. I just wanted to say that I saw Seokjin when he was doing this because I caught him taking down some of the ads near my residence, and let me just say that his version of “making sure they see his fake posters” is literally just shoving the papers in their faces and then running away as soon as he can. So, I guess he did succeed on what he aimed to do, but was it moral? Was it just? Well, dear reader… I’m leaving that judgment up to you. (Tiredly) Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

It’s Saturday afternoon and Seokjin has just finished setting up his “trap” when he hears footsteps approaching where he was. He quickly jumps inside a nearby utility closet, keeping the door ajar to observe the upcoming interaction. Seokjin doesn’t even need to look to know that it’s Hoseok who has arrived first, always notoriously strict when it comes to scheduled meetings. He begins to worry, realizing belatedly that Jimin is the exact opposite of Hoseok when it comes to things like this, and while that makes for a good fanfic couple trope, it doesn’t really help Seokjin in this case.

He watches Hoseok peek into the classroom, brows scrunched in confusion as he must wonder why nobody seems to be at the supposed book signing. He snatches the poster from inside his satchel, squinting at the meeting details that should say that his class was supposed to meet at this very much abandoned classroom in the Law building. For how smart Hoseok is, he certainly didn’t question the sketchiness of the venue that Seokjin had chosen.

Hoseok taps his shoes against the linoleum floor, lips pursed as he debates on what to do. Just as Seokjin is about to blow his cover and just shove Hoseok into the classroom himself, a loud bang resounds from the end of the hall. They both flinch, looking over to see a head of red hair zooming towards them.

Jimin is dressed haphazardly in a ripped jean jacket and comically short shorts – you wouldn’t be able to tell what season it was based on his clothes alone. He looks like he’d just jumped out of bed, what with the noticeable drool stain still caked around his chin. He grinds to a halt in front of the classroom, breathing heavily through his mouth and still not yet aware of the company he has found himself with.

“Jimin? What the fuck?” Hoseok exclaims, staring incredulously at him. Jimin finally looks up, pausing in his heavy breathing to stare back.

He straightens up, pointing an accusing finger at the elder. “GASP! What are you doing here?”

Hoseok points his own finger. “Did you just say ‘gasp’ in real life?”

“I asked you first!”

“I asked you second!”

“Well,” Hoseok coughs awkwardly, gesturing to the empty classroom mindlessly. “I’m supposed to be here for a book signing, but I feel like I got a fake ad by accident.”

“Hah! Foolish of you,” Jimin snorts, nose high in the air. He procures his own fake poster from his short pockets, presenting it to Hoseok. “You must be Miss Steak Anne, because this classroom is supposed to be where a dance exhibition is being held. I knew you wanted to watch them dance! You’re just trying to cover up your embarrassment!”

“What?” Hoseok splutters, snatching the poster from his hands. He reads it, narrowing his eyes at Seokjin’s masterpiece of deception. “Dude. The poster is fake too. They spelled ‘dance’ like ‘dunce.’”

Jimin takes it back, slack-jawed when he sees that Hoseok was right. “What the fuck,” he says. He groans, smacking himself in the face. “I’m the foolish one now!”

Before Hoseok can retort, Seokjin chooses that moment to burst forth from his hiding place. “Hello, boys!” he greets, not waiting for a response. The two boys jump in surprise, but they don’t even have time to scream before Seokjin promptly shoves them into the classroom. He clicks the lock in place, grateful that he scouted this place during his first year in case he’d ever need somewhere to lock his unsuspecting classmates in*.

[Addendum: Me. It was me. He locked me in there when I told him JiHope was the worst ship on campus. Y/NKook for life! Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

“Hey! Let us out!” Jimin yells from behind the door, his tiny fists banging uselessly against the door. Seokjin cackles maniacally from the outside, doing a funny dance through the frosted glass window.

“Not until you guys fix whatever angst bullshit you have going on! I’ll be back in an hour. Until then, homos!” Seokjin singsongs, skipping away from the mess he created. But not to worry, dear readers, for Seokjin had planted microphones all over the classroom in advance so that we may all be privy to the ensuing drama/hotness courtesy of JiHope! Oh, how incredibly big-brained of him! The following is a transcript of the aforementioned recording because, as you know, Seokjin always wins.

Transcript by Min Yoongi:*

[Addendum: Paid-slash-blackmailed, by the way. I would never do this willingly. He knows too much about me… It’s sickening but also he offered to buy me chicken nuggets and I’d be an idiot to decline that. Anyway, here’s this pile of shit. Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

[0:00] *heavy banging from Jimin’s tiny baby fists*

[0:10] Jimin: Ugh, this shit BLOWS! *proceeds to stomp around like a baby before sliding to the ground with a thud*

[0:20] Hoseok: Well, it could be worse. We could have been kidnapped by a serial killer.

[0:25] Jimin: I’m pretty sure Kim Seokjin categorizes as one, but go off.

[0:30] Hoseok: *grumbling* I’m just trying to lighten the mood.

[0:35] Jimin: Oh wow, thanks soooo much. This is all your fault, by the way. Can’t believe your dumbass got bamboozled by Seokjin.

[0:40] Hoseok: How the fuck is this my fault? You were fooled too! And will you stop sitting like that? I can see everything with how short your shorts are.

[0:45] Jimin: Oh, and now you’re going to police how I dress? Bitch, people would be honored to see my nuts! They’re prized nuts!

[0:50] Hoseok: *snorts* Sure, if you say so.

[0:55] *there is a short pause and you can hear Jimin’s heavy breathing* Jimin, mumbling: Taehyung says my nuts are great…

[1:00] Hoseok: Well, Taehyung is an idiot. He probably says that shit to everybody.

[1:05] Jimin: *gasps* TAKE THAT BACK! HE’S MY FUCKING SOULMATE!”

[1:10] Hoseok: Oh, he’s your soulmate, is he? Guess you like throwing that word around to just about anybody, huh? Because last time, I remember you calling me your soulmate!”

[1:15-6:15] *literally just five minutes of silence* *you can hear Jimin crying a little bit but it’s obvious he’s trying to hold it in* *Hoseok (?) or maybe Jimin is pacing around*

[6:20] Hoseok: I, uhh... *hesitates some more* I didn’t... Mean to say that.

[6:25] Jimin: *starts to laugh hysterically* Fuck…

[6:30] Jimin: *slams his tiny baby hand against the wall again* Fuck!

[6:35] Jimin, choking up: You didn’t mean to say what? That we really were soulmates? That we used to be best friends?

[6:40] Hoseok, quietly: Jimin... No, I meant––

[6:45] Jimin: What do you mean, huh? I can never understand you. You never explain yourself. It’s always a guessing game with you and I just end up getting my feelings hurt because I always make the wrong assumptions, isn’t that right?

[7:00] Hoseok, choking up: Of course not. You’re right, I’m stupid and––

[7:05] Jimin, yelling: That’s right! You are fucking stupid! You’ve been stupid since day one and I can’t believe I wanted to be friends with you! *sniffles loudly* And I’m even stupider for still wanting to be friends with you.

[7:20-7:30] *there is a long silence except for the sound of Jimin’s heavy sniffling*

[7:35] Hoseok, sighing: I know that I don’t deserve to be your friend. I’m ashamed. I’m so fucking ashamed. There isn’t a day where I don’t regret not telling you about giving up dance all those years ago. I should’ve been more open with you.

[7:50] *Jimin stops sniffling* Jimin: Yeah. You should’ve. You should be. Asshole.

[8:00] Hoseok: And every time I try telling myself that I should apologize, I’d just get cold feet. It got even worse when you started hanging around Taehyung more... And I just... Lost it.

[8:10] Jimin, laughing harshly: Oh? So you were fucking jealous? Please.

[8:15] Hoseok: It sounds childish, but yea. I was.

[8:20] Jimin, quietly: Oh.

[8:30] Hoseok: And then when I saw you hanging off of Sera’s stupid little finger like a lovesick fool, it... It really fucking messed me up.

[8:40] Jimin: Oh my god. Was that why you’ve been so moody these past few days? Holy shit.

[8:45] Hoseok: When you put it that way... Ugh, this is so embarrassing. I’m really not a feelings guy, you know? I’m always just supposed to be the happy-go-lucky sunshine guy.

[9:00] Jimin: You’re allowed to feel, you know? Get rid of that toxic masculinity bullshit you have going on. This is why we fucking drifted in the first place!

[9:10] Hoseok, laughing hoarsely: Yeah... You’re right. *sound of a body sliding down to the floor... Hoseok must have sat beside Jimin*

[9:30] Jimin: We are literally so stupid. Do you realize how dumb our arguments sound? We’re being so childish, and for what?

[9:40] Hoseok: *sighing* I know… I’m the asshole here. I know what I did and I’m the reason why our friendship shifted. I’ve never been considerate to you and now…

[9:50] Hoseok: You probably hate me. And I used to tell myself that it’s better that you moved on but I know the reason why you never applied for the dance program is because of me.

[10:00] Jimin: I mean, yeah. That’s true.

[10:05] Hoseok: Wait, the asshole part or…

[10:10] Jimin: Pretty much everything. Yes, you’re the asshole. Yes, you ruined our friendship. Yes, I didn’t apply for the dance program because of you.

[10:15] Hoseok: *sighing* And you probably hate me, right?

[10:20] Jimin, softer: No, of course not. I could never hate you, hyung. Hell, I thought you hated me! You never hang out with me anymore! I literally only started taking those tutoring lessons from Y/N so that I would have an excuse to see you sometimes.

[10:35] Hoseok: ...oh. I didn’t know… I guess I’ve been a little bit too self-absorbed.

[10:45] Jimin: Understatement of the century, hyung. I just fucking miss you, okay? *sniffles loudly* God, I am so sick of crying all the time! First that shit with Sera, and now this…

[10:55] Hoseok: *panicking* Shit! Jimin-ah, please don’t cry… I’m such a fuck up! Why do you even want to hang around me?

[11:05] Jimin: Don’t you get it? You’re my best friend! How could I just erase years of friendship over what? Just because you don’t wanna dance anymore? Listen, I know I always pester you to go dance with me again, but I’d be more than happy just having you as my friend. I don’t care about that shit anymore! I just want you to look at me without looking so fucking guilty all the time.

[11:35] Hoseok: Well… I still want to dance. All the time, believe me. But… I can’t go around wasting my time when I made a promise to my dad.

[11:45] Jimin, hesitantly: Your… your dad?

[11:50] Hoseok: Yeah. He told me it was his greatest wish if I followed in his footsteps and became a teacher… I’m sorry, Jimin. I couldn’t just let my old man down like that. I…

[12:00] Jimin: Oh my god. You idiot. You fucking dunce. You dick for brains.

[12:05] Hoseok: What the fuck? What did I do now?

[12:10] Jimin: Have you ever considered… that you could teach shit other than English? Huh?

[12:15] *Hoseok.exe has stopped working*

[12:20] Jimin: Oh my god! I have a fucking feeling your dad meant he just wanted to see you teach kids, not necessarily become an English teacher like he was! You fucking stupid piece of shit!

[12:30] Hoseok: I… literally didn’t think. How the fuck..?

[12:35] Jimin: Are you literally just telling me right now that we could’ve escaped 3 years of stupid misunderstanding if you just hadn’t been an idiot? Give me a break! How the hell do you think you’d ever become a teacher?!

[12:50] *there is a pause before the two of them start laughing loudly*

[13:00] Hoseok: Jesus. Guess I really am the asshole, huh?

[13:05] Jimin: You think? Ugh, maybe getting locked in a classroom with you isn’t so bad after all…

[13:10] Hoseok: Speaking of… When do you think Seokjin is gonna let us out of here? I kinda need to piss and as happy as I am to be your friend again, I don’t think I wanna relive our toddler years together either.

[13:20] Jimin: *snorts* Gross. *shuffling* Hyung! Stand here! I’m gonna climb you and try to open the latch to the window over there. Shouldn’t be that far of a jump. Then I’ll just open the door for you.

[13:40] Hoseok: Jimin, are you insane? That could be dangerous! Let me do it.

[13:50] Jimin: You and what? Your skinny ass? Please! Do you see the gloriousness of this ass? I can get us out of here in no time.

[14:00] Hoseok, whispering: Assuming you can even squeeze through the window…

[14:05] Jimin, yelling: EXCUSE ME? I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT THIS ASS HAS WON ME MANY FREE MCDONALD’S HAPPY MEALS IN MY DAY––

End of Audio

x x x x x

Yoongi pauses from his typing to recheck the file, making sure he hadn’t accidentally paused the recording. When he sees that the audio does end there, he leans back into his chair, letting his headphones fall back to settle around his neck. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, sending a quick text to Seokjin to ask what happened to the two stupid lovebirds.

288 notes · View notes

dany-is-my-queen · 4 years

Text

Born To Be Yours | Part VIII

Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually)

Season 1-8

Word Count: 2,165

Note: Leave your thoughts please! 💛

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.9

“I don’t want to leave King’s Landing! What about you and Tommen? No one can separate us! Please Y/N, I don’t want to go to Dorne.” Myrcella was weeping holding you tight by the waist.

“You’ll be safer in Dorne, little one. It’s dangerous if you stay. I promise you I’ll visit Sunspear as soon as I can. They will give you a warm welcome. Nothing bad is going to happen, okay?” You keep saying to ease her worries. She’ll be just fine, you thought.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“You are my sister. We’ll be in each other’s hearts till the end of time.” You wiped her tears.

“Princess Y/N, Princess Myrcella.” Sansa greeted you. Another two courtiers arrived to be with her.

“Lady Sansa, I love your dress! Did you make it yourself?” Myr announced.

“Yes, princess.” She chuckled.

“You should teach me how to do this beautiful stitching. Sadly we don’t have the time.”

“I’ll send you a golden gown as a present on your nameday” She grinned and went off to play hide & seek with the ladies. “You are going to miss your sister.” Sansa said.

“A lot. But I know it has a purpose. She’s strong.” You nodded.

“Just like you. I miss Arya. We had a complicated relation, she was always so annoying and I was a brat. I should have cherished the moments we had together. She’s out there all alone.” With a sad voice she spoke.

“We will find her.”

“May I ask you something?” She doubtfully inquired.

“Anything.”

“You don’t like to be around Joffrey?”

“No. And I’m glad he hardly ever request my presence. We had a messy childhood. I’ve been closer to my siblings since they were born. They brought light to my life. There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for them.”

“I admire you, Y/N.” You smiled.

“Lady Sansa, do you fancy poetry?”

“I do! It’s very romantic.”

“Well, I’m happy to hear that. I made you a poem... you inspired me. Here it goes...

Big vivid blue eyes

Gentler than the ocean sea

Long silky auburn locks

Warmer than a sunset

This a lady, a lady who will own the world.”

You created it the very first day you meet her, of course, you wouldn’t recite it to her when you barely knew each other. It was way too short but it meant something.

“Woah... Y/N I’m speechless. You are so sweet. I don’t deserve a friend like you.” Right, friend.

“Of course you do.” You said. She kissed your cheek the same way you kissed hers the other night. Swiftly and subtly. Gods it felt so good. If anyone was watching they could see how blushed you two were.

“May I ask specifically what the King has in mind?” Tyrion was weary of his sister’s stubbornness.

“You may, specifically, or you may ask vaguely. The answer will be the same.” She nonchalant answered.

“It’s important we talk about this.” He insisted.

“It’s the King’s royal prerogative to withhold sensitive information from his councilors.” Cersei was looking from the balcony to the gardens the longing stare Sansa had on you. You watched with a heavy heart over the younger princess so you weren’t paying much attention. The Queen Regent didn’t like the idea of that kind of closeness between you both. She didn’t suspect anything either, not more than devotion the northern lady held for Y/N. Still, it bothered her you always stood up for her. “That whore should stay away from my daughter.” She declared.

“Why? It seems they get along pretty well, your son loves to torture her. She found someone who treats her right. I don’t quite understand the reason you’re mad about it.”

“She’s poisoning her. Manipulating her. Y/N is so naive. That girl thinks she has her under her claws at her disposition.”

“What you are saying doesn’t make any sense. They are just girls. What harm can they do to each other?

“Will you send her away as well? Maybe you should have considered Y/N instead of Myrcella.”

“You haven’t changed a bit. Still so bitter and distant with Y/N. She knows how to fight, how to defend herself. She’s brave. Just like her father Robert Baratheon was. Only three of your four children are sane. But I’m really curious about this... how can you put one of them above the other? Being so hurtful with your actions and your words, Y/N experienced that. Where were you when she needed you the most?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I love her. In my own way. She’s my blood, and for good or for bad, blood is for life.” Tyrion let out a tired sighed of disbelief. Then he left.

“My friend...” Varys approached you.

“What news, Lord Varys?”

“Your uncle Renly. He’s dead.”

“How?”

“He was stabbed in the heart. Some say it was Lady Catelyn Stark, his own Kingsguard, and others Stannis Baratheon himself. We don’t know for sure.” You knew this was a high possibility due to the quarrel between Stannis and Renly, though it was soon you were pretty sad about the fact he’s gone. He was always good to you.

It was the day Myrcella was leaving home to be in an unknown place. She was terrified, truth be told you were too but you had to remain strong and positive.

“My lioness, I’m sure the next time we see each other you’ll be even more beautiful. Five years, twenty years, we’ll always be the same.” You were trusting Dorne to take care of her.

“Just a bit older. Who is going to stay with me when I have a nightmare or when-“

“As father told me, don’t be scared even in the face of danger. You will never be alone. I love you.” You kissed her forehead bidding her goodbye.

“Promise you will never forget about me Y/N.”

“I promise.”

“May the seven guide the princess on her journey...”

Tommen was sobbing, the septa cleaned his face. You held him whispering she was going to be safe and soon enough you’ll be seeing her again.

“You sound like a cat meowing for his mother. Princes don’t cry.” Joffrey hissed with his arms folded. You were to busy comforting your baby brother to pay him any attention.

“I saw you cry.” Sansa blunted out.

“Did you say something, my lady?” He turned to her.

“My little brother cried when I left Winterfell.”

“So?”

“It seems a normal thing.”

“Is your little brother a prince?”

“No?”

“Not really relevant, isn’t it?” He irritably replied.

“Some people care for their siblings, you don’t care for any of us. That’s why you are so stone-hearted about it.” You kept looking at Myrcella almost gone boat. He gave you a withering look before walking. Sansa was emotionless, perhaps because of her younger brothers, Bran and Rickon. Hopefully, they were alright.

“Come, dog.”

You followed the guards. In the hall, a crowd started to yell things at the King. Tommen was taken back to the Keep while your mother and you stayed close to each other, she held your hand.

“Hail to the King!”

“Murderer! Bastard!”

“Please your grace, we are hungry!”

Suddenly a piece of cow excrement was thrown to his arrogant face. “Who threw that? I want the man who threw that! Find him and bring him to me! Kill them! Kill them all!” Sansa handmaidens were keeping her close. The Lannister guardsmen shielded you and Cersei while the folk tried to get to your eldest brother. They were rioting, it was chaos.

“Move, move!” Tyrion ducked his head. You tried to follow the tall girl but she left your sight.

You entered a big gate to safety. “Where’s the Stark girl?” Tyrion shouted.

“Let them have her!” Joffrey furiously screamed.

Wasting no time you ran to the exit not caring about the riot happening outside.

You entered a short corridor, almost tripping by your feet. When you found her she was on the ground with her clothes ripped off, crying while trying to break free from the man’s grip.

“Have you ever been fucked?” You heard the disgusting person say.

“Take your hands off her!” You pushed one of them and hit him. The other flee and the last punched you in the stomach and then slapped you. The northerner was terrified. In that precise moment, before you kept fighting, The Hound arrived and spun the leader down, then disemboweled him, the second begged for mercy, resulting in him cutting his throat. He first offered to help you what you refused so he could carry the Stark girl. She was in shock.

Now you were in the gated area. You heavily sighed. “The Princess is hurt! So is the little bird.”

“Thank you, Sandor.” He nodded.

“Y/N! Are you alright? Did the assailants do something to you?” Tyrion worriedly asked you.

“No, no I’m fine.” You shook your head, trying to catch your breath.

“That was stupid.”

“Well, Joffrey is a slow thinker.”

“Your mother is going to be so angry about this.”

“I don’t care, uncle. You know it.” You smiled at him and he shook his head in disapprove. “My lady. They will take you back to the Red Keep. I will personally treat your wounds okay?”

“You already have done too much, my princess. I-“

“Please.” She nodded. “I’ll be with you in a few moments.”

You entered Cersei’s chambers, she was expecting you. Both hands on her waist. “What the hell were you thinking?! Are you an idiot? I’ve sent one of my daughters away and now the other is almost raped and killed the same day!” She was all hysterical.

“Mother, your son wasn’t deciding. Someone had to. Without Lady Sansa we’ll never see Jaime again. I’m the only person who cares for the innocent people? I wouldn’t let them hurt her.” You fought back.

“She is not worth risking your life for. You are trying to follow your father to the grave! It’s not about honor. It’s about your safety. I can’t lose you, Y/N.” She argued.

“You won’t.” You walked out leaving her with a mad expression.

“She was so brave Shae! She came to my aid when I thought those people were going to hurt me. She’s so fearless.”

“It was a very silly act. Things could have gotten worse.”

“But they didn’t. Sandor also helped. But Y/N,s boldness is remarkable.” Shae peered at her knowing what Sansa really meant.

You knocked on the redhead door. “I hope it’s not too late. My mother kept talking, I couldn’t wiggle my way out.” You excused yourself.

“Come in. I was waiting for you. Shae insisted on do it herself.”

“Princess. My lady.”

“Goodnight, Shae. She’s in good hands.” She gave you a little smile.

“Did you have supper already?”

“Yes, I took a quick bath too.” Sansa gestured you to sit down.

“I see. Your hair is still wet.” You quipped.

“You saved me. Again.” She began.

“Actually, Sandor saved us. I’m glad I arrived in time.”

“I thought they were going to kill me.”

“I wouldn’t let them. I won’t let anyone touches you ever again. I’m sorry. It must have been very frightening to you.”

“It was. You rescued me. I’m so grateful, Y/N. But your life is way more important than mine. Stop doing it.”

“I’ve heard that before.” You took the kerchief smearing in it some ointment.

“I’m serious. You are very brave. I don’t want you to get seriously injured because of me.” She insisted, more serious this time.

“I wouldn’t blame you. No harm will come to you while I’m around. I mean it. What I wouldn’t do to save you?”

“You are so stubborn. I would have given them bread if I had it. I hate the King more than any of them.”

“I know you would and I know you do, we share the same feeling about him.”

“Oh, gods! I’m a fool! I didn’t notice until now that you are also hurt.” She concernedly acknowledged.

“It doesn’t matter.” You brushed it off.

“Of course it does.”

“You first.” With the fabric, you began to swab her eyebrow cut.

“Auch.”

“It’s not deep. Does it hurt?”

“A little. What about yours?” She carefully touched your lower lip with her thumb.

“It’s just a scratch.”

“Let me clean it.” You found her eyes staring at your lips.

“The-the cut will disappear soon.” She stuttered.

“I won’t.” She looked up yo meet your eyes.

“What?”

“I won’t stop risking my life to keep you safe.” Not only you were doing this for the promise you made to Lady Catelyn, or because it was the right thing to do, not even for honor or recognition, but because you were falling harder and harder for her, you were deeply in love with the she-wolf.

#game of thrones fic #got #sansa stark x reader #sansa stark #sansa x reader #sansa x fem baratheon reader #house baratheon

94 notes · View notes